While putting together my third-year dossier the past several months, I found myself increasingly searching the blogosphere for others' stories along the tenure-track. I guess I was searching for a healthy dose of humanness to help ground, or perhaps alleviate, some of the anxiety, insecurity, and resentment that built with each day I spent writing and revising my materials. But what I found was really a whole lot more of the same -- academics scared to write about anything personal. Adopting pseudonyms and writing in guarded, veiled narratives to avoid being identifiable by anyone -- for fear of retribution, how blogging might impact chances for promotion and tenure, or how their personal blog personality might impact future job chances. Or on the other extreme, outwardly hostile and critical of all aspects of academic life (I guess if that were me I'd be thinking about how to get another job). But I did find a few, refreshing humans out there who just happen to be in academia. And so to save you some time looking, I've included them here:
Red Lips and Academics sounds like a person I could have coffee with. Down to Earth, and ready to tell it how it is. I particularly like her Geek Love post which made the front page of Wordpress .
Scientopia is actually a host of different bloggers, each of which is in love with science. So it's not all about academia, which I like, but when a post crops up it's usually pretty good. I particularly like Dr Becca, and a post that resonates with me a lot right now as I finally feel I am getting my own research and up and going!
Showing posts with label pre-tenure woes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pre-tenure woes. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Ms. Mentor Eats Humble Pie
There are far too many parallels between good parenting and good mentoring. Just like your children don't come with instruction manuals, neither do your students. And those little half-day workshops on mentoring are about as effective as those parenting seminars at the hospital. Sure, there are little kernels you tuck away for later use, but you never know what does (or in most cases does NOT) work until you have one of your own.
So it seems a bit more than coincidental that I would get my first born and my first graduate students at about the same time. All the faster to grey my hair, I guess. Or to assume a more positive outlook, double the lessons I learn each day. Most recently, I invited a prospective graduate student to visit campus. Driven, intelligent, and personable, she would have been the golden child in my lab. So imagine my excitement when, as I put her on the plane, she talked about the next steps in submitting her application to my program. For the following week, my head was in the clouds, designing the next set of experiments that would catapult my research from ho-hum to "check out that lab in the MidWest!" Yes, I know, a little far-fetched, but that's how a good student will make you feel when you are pre-tenure!!
Exactly one week later I received an email. She expressed her interest in my research, but regrettably had decided not to apply because she couldn't see how she "fit in", not just as a person but the region (flat, cold, and little diversity) was nowhere she could commit to for 5 years. I sent a warm reply, congratulating her on her maturity in making a tough decision and extending an offer of assistance should she ever need it. But as I wrote that email, I mentally tore up all those experiments I had planned. I began planning my alternate career path now that I was destined never to achieve tenure for lack of recruiting students to my lab. And I stewed. How could she be coming one day, and so quickly change her mind the next. I blamed my institution for not being prestigious enough, the region for being so cold 9 months out of the year, and anybody/thing else I could think of.
But then I ran into GossipGuy, a very gifted undergraduate student whom I have informally mentored since he took my course. He's been going through the arduous and often humbling experience of applying and interviewing for graduate school. He was glowing, if that's really possible to do outside in 10 degree weather. Just returning from UW-Madison, he was over-joyed at being accepted into a great program. Yet, as words spilled out of his mouth, I realized that it wasn't just the program, but the people and region in which he would be living. He told me that he really felt like he fit in somewhere.
As he shared with me all the great things about Madison, I mentally ate a piece of humble pie. I chose to work at my institution not just because I could do great research, but because I viewed it as a great place to live and raise a family. I felt like I "fit" here. How could I expect it to be any different for my students?
Much like my little boy teaches me at least one lesson each day, here my student had taught me something -- to think more broadly about what my students need to be successful. That some things are out of my control - and that's OK (even if disappointing). Most importantly, that becoming a good mentor is a long process but that I'm not learning on my own - my students will help me along the way.
So it seems a bit more than coincidental that I would get my first born and my first graduate students at about the same time. All the faster to grey my hair, I guess. Or to assume a more positive outlook, double the lessons I learn each day. Most recently, I invited a prospective graduate student to visit campus. Driven, intelligent, and personable, she would have been the golden child in my lab. So imagine my excitement when, as I put her on the plane, she talked about the next steps in submitting her application to my program. For the following week, my head was in the clouds, designing the next set of experiments that would catapult my research from ho-hum to "check out that lab in the MidWest!" Yes, I know, a little far-fetched, but that's how a good student will make you feel when you are pre-tenure!!
Exactly one week later I received an email. She expressed her interest in my research, but regrettably had decided not to apply because she couldn't see how she "fit in", not just as a person but the region (flat, cold, and little diversity) was nowhere she could commit to for 5 years. I sent a warm reply, congratulating her on her maturity in making a tough decision and extending an offer of assistance should she ever need it. But as I wrote that email, I mentally tore up all those experiments I had planned. I began planning my alternate career path now that I was destined never to achieve tenure for lack of recruiting students to my lab. And I stewed. How could she be coming one day, and so quickly change her mind the next. I blamed my institution for not being prestigious enough, the region for being so cold 9 months out of the year, and anybody/thing else I could think of.
But then I ran into GossipGuy, a very gifted undergraduate student whom I have informally mentored since he took my course. He's been going through the arduous and often humbling experience of applying and interviewing for graduate school. He was glowing, if that's really possible to do outside in 10 degree weather. Just returning from UW-Madison, he was over-joyed at being accepted into a great program. Yet, as words spilled out of his mouth, I realized that it wasn't just the program, but the people and region in which he would be living. He told me that he really felt like he fit in somewhere.
As he shared with me all the great things about Madison, I mentally ate a piece of humble pie. I chose to work at my institution not just because I could do great research, but because I viewed it as a great place to live and raise a family. I felt like I "fit" here. How could I expect it to be any different for my students?
Much like my little boy teaches me at least one lesson each day, here my student had taught me something -- to think more broadly about what my students need to be successful. That some things are out of my control - and that's OK (even if disappointing). Most importantly, that becoming a good mentor is a long process but that I'm not learning on my own - my students will help me along the way.
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