I do not hate this.
I do not hate this.
I do not hate this.
I do not hate this.
I do not HATE this.
I do not HATE THIS.
I do not
I do.
12 Jun
I do not hate this.
I do not hate this.
I do not hate this.
I do not hate this.
I do not HATE this.
I do not HATE THIS.
I do not
I do.
Posted by Brian Ogilvie on June 12, 2009 at 9:52 pm
Does it work?
My response to the whole 9 vs. 12 month business is to note that during the 9 months when school is in session, we do not get to take vacation, unlike 12-month employees who can schedule vacation as they like. That is a serious constraint, and our summer schedules should reflect it.
Since reasonable people need to take 4-6 weeks’ vacation per year to remain sane, that means that at least a third, and possibly as much as a half, of my summer should be devoted to not working. Now, since some work (on research, some teaching prep, and even some service tasks) is more than occasionally enjoyable, I tend to do the following: take 2-3 weeks of total vacation, not necessarily all at once, and spend much of the summer working for 3-5 hours per day and relaxing the rest of the time (catching up on novels, taking long bike rides, puttering around the house, etc.). That way I make progress toward my serious professional goals, I refresh myself, and I remain more or less sane.
And I set up an automatic reply to email, and an extended absence greeting on voicemail, that explains that I will not be as available as I am during the academic year, and how to text me if it’s really urgent (since I have an administrative job that does actually sometimes require acting quickly).
Tenure helps, but setting up reasonable expectations before tenure isn’t bad. I don’t think I worked more the summers before I got tenure than those after.
Posted by Lucky Jane on June 13, 2009 at 6:32 am
I think it was “Dr. Philip McGraw, Ph.D.” [sic] who claims to have invented the truism that you teach people how to treat you. Before I had even moved into my office three years ago, I was pressed into service on what continues to be talked about here as one of the most onerous assignments ever given to a new faculty member. The justification, I guess, was that I was “not really that junior,” having bounced around for a couple of years as a full-time faculty member. And since I was still able to publish, I could handle the burden. I’m not particularly eager to please, but even knowing what I know now, I still don’t know how I could have extricated myself from that service load, which seems to have set an unfortunate precedent.
Your advice on setting boundaries is excellent, though I’m not at all sanguine about being able to implement it. I’m not sure even any of my female senior colleagues could do so. People just seem to feel entitled to our time and attention.
What provoked my post yesterday was that, after being on campus all week for meetings in which I’m the juniormost-and-therefore-invisible member, I thought I had Friday off to catch up on writing—but nooooo: one of my administrative betters decides to haul me in for a chat. (So now I know not to answer the phone.) I’m on a deadline, which I’ve made clear to people, but they persist in thinking that I’m at home watching soap operas, or maybe shopping for shoes. In fact, some people assume I’m on vacation. Actually going on one would probably work wonders. I’m glad to know vacation is possible, from your example.
Posted by Lucky Jane on June 13, 2009 at 10:44 am
If by “it” you mean my mock incantation, then no. Epic fail, in fact.
Posted by Sisyphus on June 12, 2009 at 10:40 pm
Ugh! I hope you manage to soldier on through. Gimlets help, unless you’re in nasty humid heat right now, in which case I recommend a good blender and some daquiris.
Posted by Lucky Jane on June 13, 2009 at 6:41 am
Thanks, Sis. I’ve been contemplating a gin-and-tonic IV, but where’s the fun in that? I’ve also been eying my bottle of Pimm’s, which would necessitate going out for a cucumber and bitter lemon, which in this country is neither bitter nor lemony enough. Plus it’s like 8 in the morning now.