One Lecturer's Last Lecture on Lecturing (Written May 2016)

[Update: this was not the last one by any stretch...]

This is one lecturer’s set of perspectives and perceptions of how notions of fairness and justice manifest themselves in the NTT faculty milieu. These are my personal experiences and views. They definitely dovetail with the narratives of several of my lecturer peers, but not with all, or perhaps even most, of them. If other lecturers are struggling with their economic compensation, benefits, or course loads, then I am certainly eager, as one of their elected representatives on Senate, to do what I can to help. In this treatise, however, I am seeking to capture one particular type of situation.

There are aspects of the lecturer system here that I have found to be exceedingly fair, just and in adherence with a meritocracy. I fully understand that I should be paid significantly less, and teach much more, than a Sparks or Pugh Professor who has devoted time and effort to researching, writing, and publishing acclaimed scholarship. I had all the ability, opportunity, and expertise to research and write lots of great books in my field. I have certainly done extensive research, been well educated, published articles, presented work at conferences, and composed theses and a dissertation. There are two reasons for why I have not published lots of books and I take full responsibility and personal ownership of these faults: I was a bit lazy and a lot fearful of failure. I was terrified by the idea of moving around the nation, of facing rejection by publishers, and of the stark “up and out” tenure clock. I also simply didn’t do enough work. I absolutely do not deserve or merit the same pay or course load as a scholar who put in the work, endured the psychic trauma, and took the risks to build a stronger scholarly repertoire and achieve tenure.

Therefore, I would argue that there are absolutely no problems or taints of injustice to *my personal* salary, benefits, or course load. I’m probably paid more than I merit. Since I don’t spend much time on research, I have plenty of time to teach a lot of classes. I love teaching four different courses and five total classes (across five different departments, programs, and units – scheduling challenge!) every semester because this allows me to teach all of my favorite courses regularly and I get lots of variety -- which I need to avoid getting bored (not that I’d turn down a course reduction if it did not entail a concomitant salary cut). It makes perfect, logical, sense to me that I have earned a lower pay grade and higher course load than most of the tenured faculty. That seems absolutely equitable.

Opportunities here for lecturers to contribute to faculty governance are superb. The current Chair of our Faculty Senate is NTT faculty. I, myself, have been able to chair all sorts of Senate and Department committees. I was just asked to be Chair of Student Life next year. Soon, according to legislation approved by the president, lecturers will literally be on committees to promote themselves. That seems very fair.

Thus, I would argue that, in terms of economics and governance, lecturers have achieved a great deal here and that, in fact, our university does far better than most. The majority of lecturers in our college are full-time if they want to be and part-time if they want to be – it’s a free choice in *most* cases.

There is also a good deal of care and support for lecturers within the community. When, for example, I was in the hospital, a high ranking administrator immediately asked what he could do to help and offered a ride home if I needed one. Both TT and NTT colleagues may argue and snipe…but they also support each other through many of life’s dramas and traumas with grace and concern. The College formed this whole committee on lecturer issues, so that is pretty awesome!

There are also opportunities for lecturers to exercise creativity, build courses, and work with students. I, for example, have been able to develop and teach courses on the history of psychiatry (my major field) and history of family and gender (a minor field). I was able to design and teach a World Campus class on American religion (part of my major field). I’ve lead a study abroad trip to London, selected a graduate student to work with me on that trip, supervised honors theses, and taught a fun and fascinating array of writing classes. I get to teach a year-long honors class with a group of great people.

So, why do I spend so much time campaigning to improve conditions for lecturers when many of the basic components of our situation are so fair and just? The foremost reason is that I, and, according to reports from colleagues, others too, live in a near-constant state of deep and permeating fear: fear that I will be outright fired, fear that courses I have designed and developed will be swiped away from me on an administrative whim, fear of being reprimanded in situations where TT faculty would not be, fear of being hugely penalized regarding single issues within my complex job -- like giving grades that don’t please everyone -- despite the fact that a million and one other aspects of my teaching and contributions are exquisite.

A perpetual, strenuous anxiety and insecurity infest work life. A capricious randomness and lack of attention to logic and justice seem to infuse some decision making processes.

Are there minor changes that would come at literally no economic cost to the university that could make work conditions infinitely better? I believe that yes, yes there are. I have three major wishes, one minor one. All center around *cultural* issues that continually draw attentions to my own – freely acknowledged as being of my own making – inadequacies. Having openly confessed that I deserve and happily embrace a lower salary and higher teaching load, I wish that those could be “enough” in terms of publically demarcating my deficiencies as a publishing scholar.

First, I wish that I could be referred to as a Clinical Professor. That is the way that NTT faculty members who hold PhDs are referred to in the College of Business. My students consistently observe that my title doesn’t have the word “professor” in it. Alumni have asked me why I’m not a “real” professor. Parents of my award winning Schreyer Scholar and Paterno Fellows honors advisee with whom I spent hours of time attending graduation events and ceremonies, politely and sensitively tried to work out how it was that I was not the same as the other “professors”. People notice and it’s demoralizing.

Second, I wish that I had more control and ownership over my own intellectual contributions. I may not have published great books (and I acknowledge that as a flaw) but I’ve undertaken enough research and study to be able to create genuinely enlightening courses for our students. I have been very lucky to be allowed to devise and teach content-based, idea driven courses in my major areas of expertise. I am fortunate in that I am not always required to teach pre-packaged modules created by the TT faulty and, when I am, I’m given lots of latitude to make them my own (plus, they’re frankly pretty good classes!). Beyond luck, I have also worked incredibly hard to make my classes innovative and rewarding for our students. It terrifies me that the chance to continue teaching these classes could be ripped away from me (and I have occasionally been threatened with this) because of interdepartmental politics or because someone else, someone with more “pull”, wants to take them. It might be expedient for units to guard their classes for their own graduate students or even (totally hypothetically as this *could* happen and there are no ideals in place to prevent it) former romantic partners or random friends of their administration. But is that fair?

Third, I wish that I and other lecturers received more academic freedom and trust. This very, very rarely happens, but, on occasion, I find myself being denigrated for missteps that are not counted against the TT faculty. In addition, very rarely, training sessions are announced as “mandatory” for “lecturers and graduate students” while they are “optional” for TT faculty. The message here is clear: someone, somewhere in administration suspects that I am less able to perform my job without supervision than someone who has done the TT requirements (taken risks, endured the tenure clock, published lots of books, etc.). This is a little bit counterintuitive because the issues for which I might be supervised include grading and teaching classes I’ve taught before. This is ironic, because I have more experience with grading and teaching than some TT faculty.

Foremost among these ironies is the suspicion that I do not know how to give grades in my own classes (there’s another irony dealing with SRTEs, i.e. they are sometimes overvalued and scrutinized rather than being assessed in terms of broad, long-term patterns of excellence, but I’m focusing here on the grade thing). As one student (one among many, many, with similar comments) noted on evaluations: I am truly, exquisitely, gifted in motivating students to work hard and succeed; that I bring out the very best from within my charges. It does not seem fair to me that I live in profound fear of being penalized, stigmatized, or ostracized because of that special ability to be positive and inspirational. Other teachers may have the gift of challenging students through more of a “fear of negative consequences” approach. There should be room for educators with different philosophies and callings to work out varied methods for promoting learning. It all evens out in the end.

Last, and least, space allowing, it would be wonderful to have a private office. Like lacking the word “professor” in our job titles, it can be disconcerting to try to conduct business with students, visiting professionals, or colleagues from other colleges in a shared space. People notice and it’s a “red flag” to them. One student actually asked me what I had done wrong that I didn’t get my own office like his other professors.

In sum, I could cry with gratitude for the care, kindness, and support that so many members of my department’s, other departments’, the College’s, and the University’s administration have graciously given to me. Colleagues and administrators have gone out on limbs to help me and they have devoted hefty amounts of time and energy to enabling me to achieve at least some of my potential. I’ve seen them do the same for others. I am phenomenally blessed and fortunate to have this career with these people. I realize that academia is not a wish-fulfillment factory, so perhaps I have erred in terming my suggestions “wishes.” I chose the word, though, because it captures the extent to which my ideas would dramatically increase my own perceptions of job security and validation, and the degree to which they would demand very little in terms of resources and money.

This is my perspective. It was partly my idea to create this committee and I did so in the hope that it would allow administration to recognize and enjoy the bounty of the varied and singular individual talents among its extremely diverse NTT faculty. One last fear that haunts me is the concern that this committee, with new members, could one day become a standardizing, systematizing force for norming and de-individualizing the extraordinarily unique individual human beings who strive to create lives as non-tenured scholars and educators in our community.

Full Definition of professor

1. 1: one that professes, avows, or declares

2. 2a : a faculty member of the highest academic rank at an institution of higher education. b : a teacher at a university, college, or sometimes secondary school. c : one that teaches or professes special knowledge of an art, sport, or occupation requiring skill.