This is not a political post. But if you live where an election is going on, then go get your vote on. Well? What are you waiting for?
That’s better.
Anyway, spring classes have opened for registration. After a year of dodging graduate classes, I have been assigned a grad seminar that meets during the graveyard shift. For weeks now I have already been bracing myself for the experience. I dislike how long the sessions are, and if we have an off class, then too bad: that’s it for the week. I also dislike how, at JPU, most grad classes meet after dark for these high-stakes marathon sessions, by the end of which I’d be stupid to walk the six blocks home unarmed. But mostly I’m frustrated and underwhelmed by graduate teaching.
Whenever I meet up with longstanding conference buddies or former grad-school colleagues who teach at SLACs, small universities without grad programs, or even regional master’s comprehensive schools, though, they speak wistfully of my job, specifically the part about being able to teach grad students. Make no mistake about it: I have a great job. I get to teach any topic that takes my fancy. I never teach comp (though I loved it and was good at it when I did). Apart from gen ed surveys, I don’t teach non-majors, and when I do teach gen ed, I never have to read a word a non-major has written.
However, let’s just say JPU’s grad programs are not stellar, uneven, even (see what I did there?). In fact, most of our grad students are candidates for terminal MAs—as they should be, since humanities PhDs are, in the immortal words of Thomas Hardy’s fratricidal, suicidal, and just plain creepy Little Father Time, “too menny.” Just this morning I received a query about my spring seminar from one of our MA grads. The message betrayed a stunning ignorance of historical fact, as well as confusion about when to use an apostrophe. Sure, it was only an e-mail, but all the same I replied by making the class sound as unpleasant as possible, just so that I wouldn’t be saddled with week after week of historical ignorance and grammatical ineptitude. My reply means that I am lazy and elitist, the antithesis of a teacher: yes, I know. I know also that untenured faculty—especially untenured female faculty—really should be more accommodating.
Yet if it’s possible, I’m even less accommodating of grad requests for independent studies. Unlike thesis or dissertation advising, directing independent studies counts for nothing, though they can be almost as time-consuming as an additional class, and that’s taking into account that there’s only one essay to oversee and evaluate. I teach 3/2, and I have no desire to make my load 4/4 or higher. Because I specialize in a hot subfield, I get a lot of requests. Because my hot subfield is theoretical, students tend to appropriate its premises to examine texts I don’t know well or—as is more often the case—texts I despise, but on which the student needs a lot of guidance, given the complexity of the theoretical interpretive framework.
And the independent study never ends there, since I require that my grad students, regardless of the context in which they are “my” students, produce a presentable or publishable paper. This requirement may be another reason to request an independent study of me, since I’ve been the midwife of several articles in my short, slow time directing independent studies. Then also, of course, working so closely with me entitles a grad student to recommendation letters.
All of these things I have been happy to do, precisely because I’ve been so picky about accepting independent studies. Not only must the “lucky” few have taken a class with me, but they must also have earned one of the top grades in the class (in grad school, anything lower than a B is failing, so a “mere” A won’t cut it). It doesn’t matter if a student I have taught recommended me. If I’ve never clapped eyes on someone’s analytical writing, I won’t direct an independent study. I won’t even read a writing sample. Besides, I know that they’re really asking mostly because they don’t like our course offerings, which are not my problem, actually.
Yet those whom I turn away always seem stunned. They request explanations, try to change my mind. Indeed, they seem to think I should have been flattered that they asked. Well, I’m not. So there.
Posted by Sisyphus on November 3, 2009 at 2:09 pm
Dude, one-on-one attention that produces conf papers/articles *and* a good letter of rec? Sign me up!!! Particularly with the track record, that’s better than what most of the profs in my whole department do for their students. No wonder they are knocking down your door! Hmm, some of the ivy-league postdocs require that you pay (a lot) even to apply — I think as a way of cutting down on applicant numbers. Maybe you could assign some sort of freakishly hard task — like reading and producing an annotated summary of the complete works of Heidegger? — as a way of weeding out all but the most stubborn and persevering of students. Notice I didn’t say “smart.” Sometimes I think actually finishing grad school has nothing to do with smarts, only hardheadedness.
Posted by Lucky Jane on November 4, 2009 at 6:55 am
If I were allowed a vetting process (though there’s nothing in my department’s governance document that says I can’t implement one), I’d assign a task whose outcomes are useful to me. Thing is, I’m so OCD about research that I don’t think I could ever trust a research assistant: one more reason I’ll never be a STAH!
And yeah, those who finish the Degree are the most persistent. Those who left ABD, right after exams or perhaps after exhausting their funding, and went on to program computers or open restaurants, even—they were the smart ones.
Posted by bsgirl on November 5, 2009 at 6:57 pm
What’s your position on directing MA and PhDs?
We don’t do a lot of independent studies for grad students around here, so I’ve avoided that time suck, but I’ve started to get asked by LOTS of grad students to direct their theses/dissertations — and I’m discovering the hard way that O My God it’s a huge amount of work. These students want to spend hours talking to me about their projects, expect me to read drafts upon drafts of their writing, etc. — and I’m having a hard time establishing boundaries.
I’m inspired by your hard-line stance. Onward!
Posted by Lucky Jane on November 5, 2009 at 9:00 pm
Right now I’m on a PhD committee, and I directed only my second MA thesis last spring. Two years ago, however, I was coerced into directing a dissertation. The DGS overcame my (very reasonable, I thought) objection that PhD students should work with tenured faculty, who among other things have higher profiles and are much more likely to stick around to see the candidate finish. The student was conscientious but horrifically unfocused; no matter what I did I couldn’t compel him to synthesize an original, coherent thought. The ordeal (which I blogged in lurid detail ca. Feb 2008) ended in him firing me. He’s still in the program, but the beginning, let alone the end, of his dissertation is nowhere in sight.
But yes, theses and dissertations—and I would argue grad classes, as well—are enormously draining. Even though we’re experts in the field, our task is to train apprentices to do original scholarship, so we’d be letting them down if we just let them reproduce what we do, what we know. More often than not, I find myself having to retrace their research, which can be fascinating, but yes: O My God a huge amount of work.
As to boundaries, I can speak only for myself when I admit to overcompensating for what I thought were my advisor’s shortcomings. I’m the opposite of aloof! I don’t impose my hobby-horses on my advisees! I actively seek publication/fellowship opportunities for my advisees! Look at me! I’m totally fucking exhausted!!!!11111!