Monthly Archives: November 2013
It has been a week of convergences that have me thinking and worrying. Due to a beloved colleague’s departure, we are accepting applications for a tenure-track position in American Literature. Offering the academic holy grail means we already have numerous applications for the position just a week after the ad went live. But as I read through the letters and teaching philosophies of highly qualified, desirable people, all but one of whom we will have to turn down, I am troubled by what happened at a faculty forum on campus yesterday.
The forum was an opportunity for faculty to ask questions about the strategic plan. Some faculty members pointed out that the suggestions crafted by committees to be included in the plan were not there, namely raising faculty salaries to median average and addressing gender and other pay inequities. Other concerns were low morale and suggestions that the strategic plan include more objectives and fewer vague aspirations.
1. Information on median average salaries is not available; therefore, we can only strive to raise salaries to average.
2. Erasing pay inequality based on gender is a laudable goal, and we should add that to the strategic plan.
3. We can raise salaries but that will require raising tuition — do you really want to do that to students?
4. Don’t you want to aspire?
First, the information on median average salaries has to be out there. None of us believe that accrediting agencies and university associations do not gather this type of information. Second, good lord, gender pay inequities — let’s please address this as a nation as well as a university.
The last two — of course, we don’t want to raise tuition on students. They already bear a huge financial burden. But I am so tired of the continual guilt trip that is the discussion of salaries in higher education. Yes, we teach for reasons other than money, but we also have to pay our own enormous student loans and save for our own children to go to college. I looked up our average salaries on the Chronicle site during the discussion. Bleak. We are listed as “far below median” — the average assistant professor salary for my university is listed as $50,000, 9%. My actual salary is less than that. My salary has gone up $4000 since I was hired in 2007. On the flip side, the President of my university makes $349,000 a year.
So I look at these wonderful job applications –the fresh new PhDs and the people who have numerous publications yet have been stuck in adjunct or instructor positions — and I feel such warring emotions. I want to tell them what opportunities they would have here, how they can learn and grow, how they will have so much freedom in how and what they teach. I want to tell them how wonderful our students are, how they will get to have personal relationships with incredible young people who go on to do amazing things. I want to tell them how much they will love our department, about how much we love each other. But I also want to tell them that they will not be fairly compensated for their education and experience. That they can make more money as office managers. That they will struggle to pay loans and mortgages and to save.
It’s such a privilege to teach. But it’s also an incredibly demoralizing financial sacrifice.
It’s November. Thanksgiving Break is next week. After that we have one week of class and one week of finals and the semester is over.
November is a time of panic and tiredness and too many assignments and too much to grade. But it’s also National Novel Writing Month, a sheer exuberance of words, a glory of writers. It’s Thanksgiving, a time of reflection and generosity and gathering.
My students are finishing their 20% Projects and will give presentations during exam week. The goal is for each student to find his or her passion, the thing that will get them out of bed on cold November mornings year after year.
Right now, though, we are all tired. Break is still a week away and presentation glory awaits in December. Right now, we have to remember why we do what we love, why coming together in stuffy classrooms on cold, November mornings is worthwhile, why writing and reading and communing is an absolute privilege for which we are daily thankful.