Monday, December 31, 2007
We get that it's natural to speculate about who we are. But we've got to ask that you not do it in our fucking comment threads. We sincerely hope these threads are useful places for people to vent or read stuff about what other people are going through. So we really, really don't want to get rid of the threads. But since neither PGS nor I has the time to moderate comments, if speculation about who we are keeps going, that's what we're going to have to do. It'll suck, and I'd really rather not. But we've just got no incentive to provide a forum for people to try to fuck us over.
[W]hat do you folks think about the fact that people on the market are expected to dress in a way that significantly departs from what we wear in the classroom?To which I add a (related) question: Which is more regrettable, that many philosophers teach while slovenly dressed, or that job candidates are expected to wear semi-formal attire?
None of the above, I'm afraid.
My partner and I made a deal during the summer: I could spend all the time I wanted writing the dissertation and prepping articles (which meant never seeing her) so long as I wasn't writing blog posts when I could have been doing family stuff. Fortunately, the deal seems to have paid off, since we're still together, the dissertation is defended, and I've got a couple of articles under review. Now that we're on the other side of the APA -- and my interviews seemed to go pretty well -- I think there's a way for me to return to PJMB. (I've also got a number of reflections from APA interviews and interactions worth sharing.)
I may be showing up just as the party is dying down. But, I don't think that the passing of the eastern APA will be enough to tame the job market beast. At least not for me.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
I'm droolingly exhausted. Bed, please. Maybe when I wake up, a good three days from now, there'll be some fly-back requests waiting for me in my inbox. That'd complete this insane series of events rather well, I think.
But my interviews are over, for better or for worse. And although I still have a lot of job market shit to do--say, write a job talk I'll probably never give, figure out how to pay Visa for the cost of my hotel the past few days--I don't want to think about any of that for a day or two. I've got a long trip back home, and I'm going to spend it trying to relax. And I'm going to have my first cup of coffee in over ten days.
But worse, my schmoozing sucked ass. I had a discrete eye on a couple of departments' tables all night and the people I wanted to talk to were just never free. In comments, "Right Said Fred" says about the smoker, "Meet some people. Talk about your work. Terrifying." Well, sort of, yeah. When you're lining up with another dozen or so candidates desperate as you to meet those people, and when you've been told that how well you talk about your work that night could possibly affect whether or not you'll have a paycheck in September--then, yeah it is sort of terrifying. Or if not terrifying, then at least really, really shitty.
Friday, December 28, 2007
I'll have more real commentary on the smoker another time, but for now I'll just say my pick for the evening's highlights were the lights going up and down at random times. At a couple of points over the course of the night, the lights in the crappy corporate hotel ballroom got really bright, and it sort of felt that point at the end the night when the lights come up in the bar and the bouncers start kicking you out into the street. Then, at other times, the lights went almost totally dark, and all the cool kids who go to rock shows started cheering, I guess from some sort of indie-kid reflex.
Anyway, here's the problem we'll be facing tonight. For the civilians following along at home, there's an APA custom that says people who've interviewed should find the departments they interviewed with at the smoker, and make with the small talk. You know, show what a charming junior colleague you are. Okay, fine, right? What's the problem with that?
Well, my problem is, I have no idea how to start those conversations. I've been wracking my already shit-kicked little brain for natural openings, and pretty much all I can come up with is, "So, I'm supposed to come over and say hi, and I really, really want a job. So, um, hi."
Think that'll fly?
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
As an artistic phenomenon existence is still bearable for us, and art furnishes us with eyes and hands and above all the good conscience to be able to turn ourselves into such a phenomenon. At times we need a rest from ourselves by looking upon, by looking down upon, ourselves and, from an artistic distance, laughing over ourselves or weeping over ourselves; we must discover the hero no less than the fool in our passion for knowledge, we must occasionally find pleasure in our folly, or we cannot continue to find pleasure in our wisdom! Precisely because we are at bottom grave and serious human beings—really more weights than human beings—nothing does us as much good as a fool's cap: we need it in relation to ourselves—we need all exuberant, floating, dancing, mocking, childish, and blissful art lest we lose the freedom above things that our ideal demands of us.See you in Baltimore.
Anyway, I'm back now. Spending the day cramming in as much last-minute preparation as humanly possible. Bring it on, Baltimore.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
But also, I want to highlight the APA advice Old Fart was kind enough to leave in comments, since it's a little more philosophy-specific:
Old Fart here again.Echoing Mr. Zero in comments, let me just say, Old Fart, you are awesome.
Interviews are mostly noisy not informational. Mostly the interview committee -- especially if it has any degree of non-overlap with the search committee, which is sometimes the case at larger places- will not have read closely your writing sample or your dissertation abstract. That will often lead to their asking many not very deep questions about your work, on the basis of the little spiel you give them in the beginning. There will also often be interesting group dynamics within the interviewing group about which you will be clueless, but they may not be.
Imagine the crotchety perhaps somewhat clueless professor X who keeps pressing you on some inane point. You think to yourself "what an inane stupid point, why does X keep pushing me on this???" The others in the room are fully aware of how crotchety and clueless X is. What they're looking for from you is how you handle X, whether you can gracefully shut X up and move on, whether you can make lemonade out of the lemon that professor X is handing you.
Now suppose you do a great job handling the crotchety but clueless X. X's colleagues are impressed. They may think you are smooth and clever. They may even think you're deep.
Alternatively, imagine that you don't handle X so well that day. Maybe X gets you flustered and throws you off your game. Maybe X causes you to be distracted. Maybe X's colleagues don't really realize how clueless X is. Maybe they think X has hit on some deep point that points to some crater- sized hole in your approach. They sort of keep piling on. Now, you've blown your interview.
But now ask yourself have the committeed in the two scenarios I've imagined really gained much pertinent information about you? Is the information gained in scenario 1 more reliable information about you than the information gained in scenario 2?
My own view is that both scenarios are noisy. It's just that in the first the noise favored the candidate, while in scenario 2 the noise works against the candidate. In this connection, I should say that I tell my own students -- I have a good number on the market this year -- that they should think of the art of being a good interviewee as the art of introducing favorable noise and blocking the introduction of unfavorable noise.
That's what the professor who insisted that you shouldn't have to prepare for interviews was missing. If the interview situation wasn't simply and utterly noisy, then he would have a point. But to the extent that interviews are simply and utterly noisy, he doesn't have a point.
Is there a way to cut down on the noise?
Maybe somewhat. You could have the interview committee really read the writing sample and dissertation abstract in advance. The committee could come prepared with well thought out questions about the work. Then it would be more like a real philosophical conversation, in which the mutual background knowledge of the what's in the writing sample and abstract would make it less like that the discussion got sidetracked into stupid inane tangents.
This would be a lot more work for the committees, but it would lessen the need for the candidates to perfect the delicate art of introducing lovely noise and keeping out unlovely noise.
Short of that, I say that you should keep preparing for your interviews, keep practicing your spiel, keep repeating it to different people, let them interrupt you, tell some of them to act like clueless A-holes, etc. Learn to direct the discussion in ways that you want it to go, firmly but politely. Etc, etc.
Again, good luck to you all in these highly stressful times.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
If you had yourself organized properly, the researching and writing of your dissertation would be a fluid process which would end naturally and prepping for your interviews should be not that hard, since all the work you have been doing all these years is leading up to this moment – get your act together. It’s candidates like you [i.e., who actually prep for interviews] who just BORE me to death at APA.
Interesting. "Organizing myself properly" would make my dissertation work itself prepare me for talking about, say, how I'd teach classes I've never been allowed to teach as a grad student. Also, it would prepare me for asking a department well-informed questions about interesting things they have going on that I see myself contributing to. Well, that's one perspective.
Via Henry Farrell, we get another perspective from Ari Kelman, a historian giving advice to history grad students about how to prep for their conference interviews. You should definitely read the whole thing, but let me give you a taste:
5: Figure out as much as you can about the composition of the interview committee. No, this does not mean reading everything they’ve ever written. But you might want to know the arguments of their major works. And, at the very least, you should know what they’ve written about. . . .
6: . . . Know what your work is about, focusing on the so-what question. . . . It’s your responsibility, then, to tell the rest of the committee why your scholarship is important. . . .
7: You should also have a polished response explaining what you’d like to teach (recognizing that their needs not your desires should inform your answer), how you teach (methods and the difference between your introductory, intermediate, and advanced undergraduate courses, as well as, if relevant, your graduate courses), and what courses you’ve taught in the past. You should prepare an answer in which you detail how both your research and your teaching will complement what [the prospective employer’s] department already has on the books.
And at the terrible risk of BORING a Prof Who is Interviewing, Kelman adds:
8: Practice your answers. Which is to say, find a friend, have them ask you a series of questions that are likely to come up at the AHA interview, and make sure that you have replies that are both true and plausible.
Gosh, what different advice these two profs are giving about conference interviews! What could possibly explain the contrast? Well, one hypotheses is, the disciplinary differences between philosophy and history mean historians have to prepare for presentations of various kinds, whereas philosophers have the power to magically "organize themselves properly" so they never need to bother prepping for anything. Another hypothesis is, A Prof Who is Interviewing at the APA has his* head so far up his ass he has no fucking clue he's giving the Worst Advice Ever.
You know, I'm going to go with hypothesis number two. Not least of all because A Prof Who is Interviewing's advice is pretty much the exact opposite of what people in my program get told by the best senior profs in the department--that is, all of them except Evil Columbo. But also because it's the exact opposite of what all the junior profs tell us, who've all done this themselves in the pretty recent past. In fact, I'd say is just about the exact opposite of everything I've ever heard about interview prep from anyone who wasn't a complete know-nothing asshole.
*Yeah, I'm assuming a gender here, which I don't usually like to do. But come one, this is philosophy, and you know this asshole's a guy. If I'm wrong I'm wrong. Fallibilism!
Friday, December 21, 2007
has the virtue of simplicity and predictability, but its simplicity and predictability are also the reason why it inflicts such psychic distress. The APA holds job interviews between Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve, thus ruining the holidays for everyone involved. Job applicants must leave family gatherings early or skip them entirely. Even Christmas dinner is ruined by the anticipation of the distress to come.
"Ruining the holidays for everyone." No doubt. And to be clear, the holidays aren't just the time we get to see our friends and family. They're the time we get off from teaching in order to get some actual work done. Right now, I'm blowing day after day on interview prep, instead of finally--at long last--getting back to my dissertation.
Friends, family, and philosophy. A guy like me wouldn't ask for much more in life than that. And the APA fucks it all up.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
I was wondering if any of you or your readers would like to write book reviews for the Journal of Value Inquiry? (Books to be reviewed should be in the general area of "value inquiry" broadly understood--basically, anything normative is fine!--and should be published no earlier than 2006.) Of course, book reviews don't count for much, if anything, for SCs, and in any case I'm afraid that this offer will come too late to help anyone with this round of applications. But if someone's addressing a new(ish) book for their diss. anyway, this would be an easy way to get another line of the CV, and some experience with the publishing process. And we can easily work out Spring (or later) deadlines to fit in with people's schedules.
If anyone's interested, please do get in contact with me directly, at: jtaylor -at- tcnj -dot- edu
So toddle off and write some book reviews for the nice man, will you? Good kids.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
In comments, Anon. 4:04 says,
One of the mailed [PFOs] referred to the "APA meeting in Washington DC this year" -- it's lovely to know that it was just cut & pasted from last year's PFOs.
For the civilians reading along from home, the APA is in Baltimore this year. It was in Washington last year. Whoever wrote this piece of shit PFO recycled their department's old copy to make a "new" letter and forgot to change the name of the city. Holy fuck, that is one weak-ass PFO.
Anon. 12:15 has a fair take on what a PFO means if you get it this early:
Even if all of our preferred candidates turn out to be mouthbreathing cretins and we have to go back to our applicant pool, we still wouldn't consider your application. That's how sure we are!
The Search Committee.
No doubt. A PFO a this stage in the game says, "Even if you were the last philosopher on earth, we still wouldn't hire your sad-sack ass."
That said, there's something about getting a PFO now that I actually sort of like. Okay, maybe not like. But there is something about it that's better than getting the inevitable rejection in June. Or never.
Here's the thing. Not hearing a fucking thing from search committees for months--for the better part of a year--after my application had ended up in a recycling bin really hammered home just how much I counted for nothing. I spent hundreds of hours putting together an application package and hundred of dollars sending it all over the fucking place. Those applications were the distillations of years of work and hope. But fuck it. After a five minute skim, my application was done and so was I. That quickly, I became so unimportant, I didn't even deserve a form e-mail telling me to Please Fuck Off. It's like I just stopped existing.
So I sort of appreciate getting those PFOs now. It almost makes it seem like some search committees remember I'm an actual human being, even after my they've dumped my application.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The thing is, the job market is, above all else, about rejection--wave after wave of rejection smashing into your ribs, squeezing them so hard you can feel yourself suffocating under the weight of your own failure. I guess the idea is, we're supposed to keep fighting through all that until somehow, some year in the future, we end up with a job. That's the part that takes real work, I think--not the applications themselves, but seeing through rejection after rejection after rejection to the possibility of another shot next year.
So to those starting that now, I'm sorry. It doesn't make sense. There are no reasons to be found here. If you're going to do it again next year, good. Take some time off, and then start strategizing. If this year was your last stand and you're getting ready to give up philosophy, good luck. Now you get to live a life in a city you've chosen, near the people you love, doing a job where everybody's awed every day at how fucking smart you are. It's going to be nice.
Monday, December 17, 2007
But here, via Sisyphus, is their "political statement":
This edit is not malicious, but is rather our own attempt to make a political statement against the current misguided importance placed on academic job searches.
Please be so advised.
Oh my fucking god, that's stupid. Listen, fucktards, when you write a manifesto, it's supposed to, you know, explain your views. Marx and Engels did it, and so did the Port Huron Statement SDS guys. Jesus, even the Unibomber filled a few pages. But what the fuck does this explain? Why is the "importance placed on academic job searches" misguided? The importance placed by who? What the fuck are we supposed to be "so advised" about here? That all y'all are fucktards?
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
So here, from the Chronicle forums (where else?), is a truly awesome story about a candidate who, uh, fucked up her campus interview. What's the advice we learn from her example? Here it is, straight up from someone on the search committee:
You probably shouldn't have slept with one of the students who took you out to dinner as part of your interview. And if you simply had to do it, it probably shouldn't have been with one of our high-school-in-college students.
Tip: Never trust a 17 year old boy not to boast.
First of all, holy fucking fuck. But the thing is, there's an obvious question here, which another commenter gets to, "are [you] sure he didn't lie rather than boast?" I know I wouldn't trust a pubescent little dickwad not to make shit up about who's been in his bed.
But no, the search committee had the goods (so to speak). The happy couple made themselves some DIY porn, and the little punk put it on Myspace.
What can you say to that? It's just too awesome for words.
Friday, December 14, 2007
But I've got a lot of work to do. Like, a lot of work to do. Grading, dissertation, job talk, interview prep. And experience shows that there's no way I'm getting any of this shit done unless I sequester myself away somewhere away from both email and phone contact. It's gotta be the coffeeshop around the corner with no wireless.
Obsessively-freaking-out-chest-pains-from-the-anxiety PGOAT says, "Fuck the dissertation! You've got email to check! Obsessively. Every two or three minutes at least. C'mon. Think of how good that, "You like me! You really like me!" high feels. You could be getting that fix right now."
Second-order PGOAT says, "What are you, an animal? Get your shit together. You don't stand a chance of getting any of these jobs unless you get this work done. Stop fucking around, asshole. Get your ass to the coffeeshop."
Yeah, I know. Get my ass to the coffeeshop.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
But reading this today took the edge off it for a while. It's from a prof going by Old Fart. There's some stuff in here I'm not sure I get, but for now, when I'm getting the living shit kicked out of me, the empathy means a lot.
I was led to this blog by some conversations with my own students. (I've got a fair number on the market this year for whom I am either first or second reader of their dissertations.)Thanks, Old Fart. It's really appreciated.
Hope my speaking as an anonymous old fart won't be taken in the wrong way. But here's the thing I tell them all. I know this job search business can be a terribly discouraging at times. It's can be especially discouraging if you are one of the many younger philosophers who probably won't land that killer first job that fully matches your talents and ambitions. Of course, some do land such jobs first time out. And fortunate those who do. But many, many don't.
To that majority, I say try to think of it as a marathon rather than a sprint. And try hard not to let where you are at any given stage of the marathon get to you too much. You have to make up ground little by little sometimes on those who start out faster.
The first job is for most people just that -- the first job. It was for me. I started out at a two year job at good liberal arts college. It was a perfectly fine college, but it was just a two year job. Second year on the market, while I was still there, I got no interviews. Third year, after my two year job ended, I got exactly one, but fortunately I did get that job. It was a tenure track job at an equally good liberal arts college.
Eventually, hungering to teach graduate students -- since my work was then kinda technical and not necessarily accessible to even good undergraduates -- I went from there to a massive but underfunded state university with a mediocre graduate program. Hated it-- well I hated the university, but I did adore a few of my colleagues -- and was determined to get out of there. Eventually I did. It was at times very stressful, being at places I didn't really want to be. I tried hard to not let the demands of my job on me define my professional aspirations.
Through a combination of something -- hard work, good fortune, stupid blind thrashing about -- things eventually worked out -- after about 11 or so years in the profession. I finally landed a great job that I absolutely loved.
My old fart point. There are many, many paths to a good academic career. The race doesn't always go to the swift. The path is sometimes brutal. (I remember crying in the shower my first year on the market about how my advisors were so ineffectual and uncaring.) But it can work out. It doesn't always. But it can.
I hope you all take a little heart in that. I know it's not much. I'm not at all trying to sound like a pure pollyanna. I know how stressful and debilitating this can be for you all. I've watched generations of my own students go through it and I want through it myself many times.
It's hard to remind yourself, in the midst of it all, when you're watching your dream interview go to somebody else, that it's really a marathon for most of us rather than a sprint.
All the best to you all in these stressful times.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
What I'm realizing is, my school sends me a fuck of lot of spam. Not just forwarded announcements for talks I don't care about (The Humanities Council presents an interdisciplinary panel on the theme, "Derrida, Deleuze, Delovely!"), but actual spam. Like, ads for the dining halls. Um, I can feed myself, thanks, and I'd really rather not get those e-mails.
The thing is, before this waiting started, I think I just deleted the spam without it ever really registering in my mind. Now I'm hyper-aware of every stupid message, and I'm sort of surprised to learn my inbox is filled with all kinds of bullshit pretty much all the time.
Monday, December 10, 2007
2 days after Christmas I went to a philosophy confrence [sic]. It was horrible. There were 200 philosophers. They all did weird things. They couldn't make jokes, many had beards.
In the elevator it was worse. Once a philosopher got off on the wrong floor, so said, "wait for me." "We'll take you to the 27th," said another. Nobody laughed. "Get it there are only 10 floors," said some random old guy in a country accent. You get the point it was creepy.
. . . I'll never go to a philosophy confrence [sic] again.
"They couldn't make jokes, many had beards. . . . You get the point[,] it was creepy." Yes. I do get the point. I get the point loud and clear.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Yeah, yeah, I know. It's early, search committees procrastinate as much as I do, and most of the jobs I applied to haven't shown up on the wiki yet. But still, I really wanted something this week.
Friday, December 7, 2007
But fuck it. I'm taking the day off. Spending the day in bed with a pot of tea and three months worth of Harper's. You suckas can be all productive and hardworking and effective if you like. Me, I've got some lying around doing nothing to take care of.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wrong again, loser. I got an acknowledgment of my application this week saying it was incomplete because I hadn't included sample syllabi. So a couple of days ago I had to spend another $1.31 on postage to send them some syllabi. That brings me up to $450.79 for the year.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
I launched into my whole thing about how I didn't really accept the dichotomy of teaching and research. I was all about how I want my teaching to compliment my research by always forcing me to sharpen my knowledge of classic texts and ideas in the face of inquisitive young skeptics, and how I want my research to compliment my teaching by giving me fresh ideas to bring into the classroom and allowing me to model for my students the sort of curiosity I want them to learn in my class. So the thing about teaching and research is finding the right balance to make each compliment the other and blah, blah, fucking blah.
And the best thing about this answer is, I really think it's true. Maybe I'm an insufferable asswipe for buying into that shit, but I swear to god, I buy it all. So not only was I giving an awesome answer to the teaching/research, question, I even believed it. Holy shit, right? I figured I was hitting that one out of the park.
As it happens, I wasn't hitting it out of the park. I wasn't fouling the ball off, let alone connecting for a respectable base hit. I wasn't even striking out. No, I was standing at the plate with my eyes closed, swinging wildly at nothing in particular while I peed my pants for fear of getting hit by the ball.
No doubt, some schools would have eaten my answer up, but not the school I was interviewing with. The farther I got into my whole thing, the more the department chair's eyes narrowed and the less interested he got. By the time I was done, I knew I'd lost him. He'd asked whether teaching or research was my primary focus, and it was clear as day I'd lost him as soon the first word out of my mouth wasn't "teaching."
So I fucked up that interview. Oh, well. I'm still not changing my answer to that question.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
*Modern Languages Association. Come on, people. Don't you ever make to any school-sponsored grad student mixers? The MLA discipline people are the ones who are way better dressed than us.
Monday, December 3, 2007
So here it is, a big list of teaching questions to prep for, divided into my not-very-well-thought-out categories.
1. What kind of intro do you teach and why? As Anon. 1:58 puts it, "What do you cover in Intro and why? Do you give a historical or problems course? Do you emphasize methods or content? Primary sources or textbook?"
2. Inside the Philosophy Factory's got a broader take on the same idea. She asks, what's your "vision for 'normal' philosophy courses and your methods for teaching logic? Here you'll want to explain the kinds of exercises you'll do to keep students engaged. You'll also want to explain your assessment methods for those courses."
Interdisciplinary and cross-department teaching.
3. What would you teach if you got to design your own course integrating material from other disciplines?
4. From Sisyphus, "How would you teach our cross-listed courses with gen ed./the Core Curriculum/some other department/the writing program?"
As an aside, up to this point I'm feeling okay. I think I could get through these without so much as messing up my hair. But now things take a turn for the worse.
5. How would you engage students that are required to take philosophy courses but who otherwise would not have?
Uh, isn't this question asking me how to make the horse drink once I get it to the god-damned water? Because I don't know how to do that.
6. Here's a variation from Anon. 1:58: "How would you get students at our school interested in your class X? Why would our students want to take it?"
7. John Turri's talking engagement too, but he's going a different direction: "What techniques would you use to engage students, in the same class, of very different levels of ability and interest?"
Which bring us to. . . .
Okay, these next questions make me feel like I'm getting hit in the face with a pipe.
8. Back to Sisyphus: "How would you work with our students as opposed to the ones at your current institution" (i.e., differences in diversity, age, college prep, money, types of feeder schools, a religious mission, they are all huge b-ball fans, etc.)" To be clear, there's a lot of fucking diversity here: age, college prep, cultural background, money, religion. Holy shit, that's a hard question to answer.
In fact, that question put me on the ground, bleeding out of my mouth. Then the next one starts kicking me in the ribs.
9. Here's Inside the Philosophy Factory: What are "your methods for adjusting to different preparation levels in the classroom? Here is where you'll have to explain how you'll deal with the kid who can't read and the kid who had to come home from Princeton sitting next to one another in your freshman Ethics course."
Uh, so far my "methods" have been to teach at a school that pretty much only admits upper-middle-class white kids who mostly went to private high schools. Is that the wrong answer? Because it's the only fucking answer I've got. Moving on. . . .
10. How does your research inform your teaching?
11. From Anon. 1:58: "What is your strength/weakness as a teacher? What is special about your classes? What do you feel you need to work on?"
12. John T again: "What incentives do you build into the course to encourage your students to actually do the reading?"
Just go back to earlier themes, are you saying it doesn't work to threaten them with getting a grade as low as B+?
13. What technology do you use in teaching? Besides chalk, I guess.
14. From Inside the Philosophy Factory: How would you "deal with a few students who are doing badly in the class -- and how you would deal with a significant portion of the class that is doing badly? She recommends, "The key with the student is to offer more help and to understand what resources are available to help students who need more assistance. With the class who is doing badly, discuss how you'd do some review to reinforce some important concepts AND to do classroom assessment techniques like asking about the 'muddiest point' etc."
15. From Sisyphus, "what sorts of limitations do you see yourself working around in your research here (i.e., how will you deal with our heavy teaching load and research requirements at the same time?)?"
16. And Michael Cholbi underlines the point: "Be ready to talk about how you'd teach large courses (50+) on your own."
Michael C. also recommends having a handful of memorable points to make about your teaching. Now, nothing makes a talking point go down smooth like a charming little anecdote. . . .
17. From Anon. 1:58: "What was your worst/best moment as a philosophy teacher and why? How did you react/respond?"
18. Sisyphus again: "Describe a time you had to deal with a problem student."
19. And back to Inside the Philosophy Factory: Describe "your most challenging teaching situation and your most rewarding experience. Here is where you tell the story about little Jimmy who was sure he couldn't do logic -- who had talked himself out of being able to pass the class and who finally ended up passing the class"
I'm absolutely fucked.
20. Anon. 1:58: "From a religious school: How would you get along with our students?"
True story: I totally fucked this one up at least year's APA. Totally.
21. Inside the Philosophy Factory Again: Talk about "your professional development. Here is where you'll want to talk about the teaching seminars you're attending via your grad university, how you are a member of APT etc... This is not where you give details about conference papers, publications etc -- unless there is a research element to your position. Then you make it about 50/50."
Ah, yes. The teaching seminars I attended at my grad university. So, so many teaching seminars.
22. Anon. 1:58 again, this time with a real sphincter-clencher: "Suppose someone (perhaps a community member, and not necessarily a student) came to you and asked how to resolve moral problem X. What would you tell them to do?"
I wouldn't even know how to begin this. Couldn't I just pretend I'm deaf or something?
23. Finally, here's one I got last year: "Which do you see as you primary focus--teaching or research?" If I get the chance, tomorrow I'll tell the story of the bloody carnage that ensued.
Okay, that's what I've got. If you want more, read through the comments here and go check out Inside the Philosophy factory's advice. Also, Michael C. points us to a thread at his place that gives a good look inside the heads of search committees at teaching schools.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
(Fucked if I know why, but for some reason Blogger's not opening the image in a new window when you click on it. So you'll actually have to download the image to see a bigger version of it. Sorry about that. --PGS)
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Good work, team. All kinds of fantastic advice about teaching interviews left in comments. I'll leave it to PGS to write a post distilling out the most useful advice. He's responsible like that. Me, not so much. I'd rather draw your attention to the totally useless but fucking hilarious advice.
Here are Undetached Rabbit Parts' strategies for dealing with the super lame demand to spout new platitudes about the value of a liberal arts education:
Interviewer: "What are the liberal arts to you?"
Interviewer: "What are the liberal arts to you?"
Me: "What are the liberal arts to you?" (I throw their own question back at them. Now all of the pressure is on them.)
Interviewer: "What are the liberal arts to you?"
Me: (I excuse myself from the table and set off the fire alarm.)
Interviewer: "What are the liberal arts to you?"
Me: "English, philosophy, russian..." (I just list various liberal arts.)
Heh. Nice. And here's Blind Teaching the Blind on how absurd it is that we're expected to have all these insightful and original opinions about pedagogy when not one of us has any formal training in how to teach:
Isn't this a bit like expecting me to provide innovative military tactics when my background is playing RISK and watching war movies?
I don't know about you all, but my teaching philosophy is cribbed entirely from Mr. Holland's Opus.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thanks to people who've chipped in with thoughts on teaching questions. In the next couple of days I'll try to put together some sort of summary of what people have been saying.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
I've talked about how last year the Old World Septuagenarian and Evil Columbo were precisely no help at all in prepping us for interviews with teaching schools. The problem is, faculty in a department like mine are pretty much totally out of touch with what rural branch campuses or even some liberal arts colleges are looking for in a philosopher. The junior faculty are better on this stuff only in the sense that they're dimly aware there might be something here they don't know about. After all, it's not like most of them even applied to the kinds of jobs me and office mates might actually get interviews for.
So last year I got killed in the interview I had with a teaching school. (Tune in next week for a grisly account of the bloody carnage.) I don't want to killed again this year. I want to be prepped for those interviews. I want to be starting my prep for those interviews now. But how the hell am I going to do that?
Well, right now my plan is this: abjectly begging for help. If anyone with experience on a teaching school's search committee wants to tell us in comments what sorts of teaching questions you like to ask, please, please do. If anyone remembers getting hard teaching questions as a candidate, leave those too. And if we ask nicely, maybe we could get Inside the Philosophy Factory to put her grading down long enough to weigh in over at her place?
One more thing. I'm especially interested in questions that aren't "How would you teach such-and-such a course?" questions. Those are the teaching questions that research schools ask, so they're the ones even my faculty knows about. What I don't know is, well, anything else about any other kind of teaching question. Little help please? Please?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
I have to admit, I'm sort of torn about them. I've complained before about how philosophy's a snowy-white sausage party. I think that's a really bad thing, and I think schools' efforts to change it are really good things.
On the other hand, some--not all, but some--of those forms take a significant chunk of time, and when all's said and done I'll be looking at over 80 of those forms to fill out. And--how best to put this?--I'm fucking busy right now. Last year, I spent maybe an hour doing them before I threw in the towel and just chucked the rest in the garbage. What's more, they can cost more than time. PJMB reader T alerts me to the fact that Memphis' form doesn't even come with the return postage paid. Sweet Jesus, that's cheap.
So the real question is, what happens if we don't fill them out? The consensus in this Chronicle thread seems to be, probably nothing. But some people think a search can get canceled if not enough of the forms get returned. And, you know, there is that thing where I'm actually committed to making philosophy look a little less like a boys-only Donnie Osmond fan club.
So fuck it. I guess that means I have fill out the fucking forms, doesn't it? How about this? I'll fill out the forms if they don't take more than 30 second each and they don't cost me anything.
Oh, and they might end up smelling like Jim Beam too, since filling them out isn't a job that needs to get done sober.
Monday, November 26, 2007
This must be one of those things civilians find bizarre about the academic job market. By the time we're interviewing for jobs, we don't even know how to dress ourselves. And then, instead of just figuring it out like sane human beings, we go bat-shit crazy.
But the bat-shitiness doesn't just come out of nowhere. I can feel myself seizing on the clothes issue because it's one of the only god-damned things I can control about this process. Everything I've worked towards for years, everything I want for my professional life--everything--comes down to a process that seems as indifferent to my efforts as the tide to a king's order that it not rise. So I freak out about what font to use on my CV and what to wear for interviews.
That, and I start prepping for interviews like a motherfucker.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
I just used priceline to book a hotel for the APA, and it turns out that I got the official APA spillover hotel, the Renaissance Harborplace, with a bid price of $75 (rather than the $120 or whatever the APA rate is for a single). Note also that while priceline only guarantees one bed, nothing should stop someone booking a room through priceline from putting two, three or four people in a room.
A couple things to note for first time priceline users: bid for a four star in the Baltimore Waterfront zone. Start low, around 60 or 65 bucks. If your bid is rejected, add one other Baltimore zone at a time to get the chance to rebid, and up your bid $5 or so. So long as you're only bidding on a four star, you needn't worry about getting stuck in another area of the city, since no other area of the city has a four star hotel that has a contract with Priceline. There is no guarantee you'll get the Renaissance Harborplace, but whatever you get will be a four star in the area. (A friend of mine just followed this advice however and got the Renaissance for a $75 bid.) Finally, a very important note: You have to pay up front with priceline, can't cancel, and have to show up in person with ID and a credit card. That means if you get no APA interviews or whatever you're stuck with the room.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Now I need to start prepping for the interviews I might very well not have.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Since PGOAT's been talking about what women have to wear for interviews, I figure I should pass along the best advice I got last year about how to dress. Committee Member #3 told me two things. First, you need to be comfortable. But second--and this is the really important thing--your outfit has to be completely forgettable. A search committee shouldn't be able to remember a single thing about what you were wearing when they're talking over your interview afterwards.
So how do you dress forgettably? My sense last year was, a suit's not going to cut it. They're way too dressy for guys. (Not so for women, who can wear a suit with an open-collared shirt and no tie.) The guys in suits at the APA stick out like they're wearing Hallowe'en costumes. Actually, it's worse than that, because they're wearing costumes, but it's not even Hallowe'en. They're wearing Hallowe'en costumes to job interviews, for god's sake.
So it's got to be a sport coat and tie. Anything less than that and you'll be the under-dressed guy.
So what kind of sport coat and tie? It can't be the awesome vintage ultra-suede coat you picked up at the Goodwill for $15. I know, I hear you--that's a really sweet coat. But it's not going to be to completely forgettable, is it? Seriously. Think about how philosophers dress. If you wear something that's actually cool, you might as well get a tattoo on your forehead that says, "Do not hire me to be a philosopher, because I am plainly not one."
What says, "I'm a philosopher! Hire me!"? Well, obviously you could get the job done with a shitty old sport coat that's two sizes too big because it was fitted when Reality Bites was still in theaters, jauntily paired with your alma mater's tie. And if you want to really trick that look out, you can wear huge glasses too. Because they make you look like an owl. Which makes you look wise. Which philosophers should be.
But even at the APA, we have to cling to some small measure of dignity, don't we? So put on a nice but understated sport coat and a nice but understated tie, and you'll blend right in. Which is exactly what you want to do.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
True. But the philosophy job wiki says a couple of schools have contacted people about interviews already, and that's not helping me keep my shit together. Is it already time to start checking the wiki every fifteen minutes, every hour of every god damned day?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
So this one time a few years ago a colleague of mine was observing my teaching. Debriefing over beers later on, I'd thought the class had gone fairly well. He had a few minor tweaks to suggest. Making sure to call on people from both sides of the classroom. Some tips on how to get that guy to STFU. That sort of thing. Nothing big. But then he said, "Oh, and every time you turn your back to write on the board the entire class can see your thong."
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
And it cost me money. A lot of money. $24 for two sets of transcripts printed while I waited, and then $28.50 to get them sent overnight to the exotic foreign post-doc locale to make a hard deadline. So today's costs put me at $449.48 for the year.
God damn, that's really starting to hurt.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Anon. #1 says,
My undergrad did not have a Phi Beta Kappa chapter, so I had no opportunity to enter the PBK guild. I did however, previously work at BK. That is, I was previously a Burger King employee. So I am somewhat PBK. But I doubt that makes me PBK enough for Mississippi philosophy.To which Liberal Arts Prof. adds,
I, too, am PBK! Post Burger King. God, I hated that job. My last day I spilled the the old fryer grease all over the floor because my bozo of a manager left the plug undone. I think I quit rather than spend my break cleaning it up. My god, what hellish memories you bring back. Starkville would be much better.But the final word goes to Anon #2:
I feel a little sorry for them if it's true that they're being strong-armed by the university administration, but I also think that they deserve to get a good deal of Burger King-related prank mail, just to remind them of how retarded their job advertisement is.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I can't remember the last time I had that much fun spending $76.61.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
My success rate was about 50% for the rejection letters on my first TT search. I was a post-doc at the time, and made a 'wall of shame' in my office on which I stapled all the letters.
To be clear, when this guy says "success rate" he means he actually got a rejection letter from a school, instead of getting nothing at all.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Jesus. I haven't even paid for my share of an APA hotel room yet.
Friday, November 16, 2007
, MISSISSIPPI STATE UNIVERSITY , MS. Contingent upon funding. Asst. or Assoc. Prof., tenure-track. 3 courses per semester, usual non-teaching duties, research and publication expected. AOS: Open, but the department has special interests in aesthetics, bioethics, philosophy of religion or history and philosophy of science. AOC: History of philosophy. Applicant must be a member of PBK, able to teach full range of introductory-- Starkville
Wait. What? Applicants must be a member of Phi Beta Kappa? You might think, what the fuck for?
In fact, that's exactly what I did think when I read that ad. Now, via a trusted friend of PJMB comes word that, yes, applicants must be members of PBK. Apparently
Now get a load of PBK, with real class, bragging about how exclusive they are:
Only about 10 percent of the nation's institutions of higher learning have Phi Beta Kappa chapters.
Only about 10 percent of the arts and sciences graduates of these distinguished institutions are selected for Phi Beta Kappa membership.
What does this mean for
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Now imagine a fifth of Yale's med school grads never got jobs as doctors. Imagine a quarter of Chicago's law school grads never got jobs as lawyers. How do you think people would talk about those job markets? How do you think med and law students outside the top-10 would think about that market? Even at good schools, say, Minnesota and North Carolina? Why, I bet those students would be losing their shit pretty much all the time, wouldn't they? I bet it'd take a couple of ounces of Ballantine's and an hour of Brian Eno every night to keep their hands from shaking and their eyes from losing focus.
But in philosophy we don't need to imagine. That's our job market for real.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
And so. What to wear on the job market? We'll start with the shoes.
If you ever find yourself needing something to do during a particularly dry APA conference session--having already counted all the ceiling tiles, perhaps--try counting the Danksos on women's feet. You'd think we got a SWIP discount on these puppies. They're everywhere. It makes me happy. I kind of can't make myself wear anything else. They're seriously comfortable, but still shoes you can get by wearing with a suit. (Or so I try to convince myself.)
Don't get me wrong--I know it's important to present a professional-looking image when we're trying to convince the old boys that maybe a lady colleague won't spell the end of the world as they know it. (Heh. Little do they know... .) I really should wear proper dress shoes. But I'll have enough on my plate in Baltimore trying to avert the fantods; the last thing I'll need is sore feet.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
First, there seems to be some confusion about Inside Man's pseudonymity, and me and PGOAT have to take the blame for that. To be clear, me and PGOAT know him personally from philosophy circles we all run in. So we both know the rank of his program. More to the point, we both know he's heartbreakingly honest when it comes to telling grad students about how the market works, and his honesty has everything to do with him looking out for our best interests. But now that I think of it, there's a reason reporters tell you a little information about their anonymous sources, and if we'd done the same here, that probably could have headed off a lot of confusion. So mea culpa.
Of course, PGOAT and me are pseudonymous, so maybe us giving Inside Man our cred doesn't mean much to you. Fair enough. I can't say much to that. Lucky for me though, Leiter's been good enough to confirm pretty much everything Inside Man's said about how search committees use writing samples early on in the search process. I.e., if they get looked at all, they don't get looked at much. (Leiter also wants to deny some things Inside Man didn't say, but whatever. Didn't Bertrand Russell say no great philosopher has ever really understood anything written by another great philosopher? Maybe. Who's Bertrand Russell again?)
As for our pseudonymity, and the anonymity in comments, we're going to keep that. There are some things the profession won't let us say out loud. But just because we can't say them, that doesn't mean they're not true. Yes, there's a place for moderated discussion in moderate tones. It can be useful. But moderated discussion in moderate tones isn't so good at capturing the irrationality--both comic and emotionally brutal--of the job market. This shit isn't all like a day at the Lyceum. Good days are like an Ionesco play, and bad ones are like Kafka. So if people want to talk about the absurdity, the bad faith and the bullshit, this is the place for that.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Let me give you some background. When people in my department send out applications, we have to give the department secretary a stack of addressed envelopes, so she doesn't have to do anything besides photocopy our letters, put them in the envelopes, and drop everything in campus mail. If we don't give her an envelope with an address on it, she doesn't send letters.
Fine. But this weekend, one of my officemates told me this story. The secretary cornered her last week, showed her an envelope, and asked her if it was hers. The secretary figured it might be, because it was addressed to a school doing a search for something my officemate does. My officemate didn't think it was hers and, thank god, realized it was probably mine, since we're applying for jobs in some of the same areas.
But then my officemate asked the secretary where the envelope came from. Apparently, it came from behind the fridge in the department kitchen. Yes, behind the fucking fridge.
How the fuck did my envelope get back there? The kitchen's nowhere near the office. Was the secretary taking my envelopes for a walk when she was looking for a snack? I mean, I guess that envelope got found, so those letters are going to go out. But are there more of my envelopes lost around the department? Do I need to start looking under the microwave to find more? Or behind the toilet in the women's can, in case the secretary decided to take a pile in there for god knows what reason?
I swear to fucking god, this is not what I need to be worrying about right now.
You’re an excellent undergraduate. You apply to lots of departments and get in everywhere. Your advisors tell you about the Leiter rankings, and you choose to go to a highly ranked department. If students tend to act like you, higher-ranked departments will have better incoming graduate students. In addition, one learns a great deal in graduate school from one’s peers, and graduate students at higher-ranked departments will generally get more out of their peers (since their peers were better coming in). So one would expect graduate students coming out of higher-ranked departments to be better—even if there is no correlation between the Leiter rankings and how good the faculty are at training graduate students. This is why I tell prospective graduate students to look at the Leiter rankings, and it’s why I take them into account in assessing applications. It’s not about prestige: it’s that I think that there’s reason to think that, other things being equal, students coming out of higher-ranked departments will be better. (This is a pretty weak claim and doesn’t justify chucking the file of someone from a non-Leiterrific department with three publications in Phil Studies in favor of the file of someone from a Leiterrific department with no publications. Not that I would do that.)
(PGOAT reminds me that, given my reasons for taking the Leiter rankings into account, I should pay attention to a department’s ranking over time, including when the student was deciding. But that’s a pain, so I tend to just assume that the rankings are more or less stable over time.)
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
I bet that's going to work out great. Because everybody in HPS is going to scramble for a job at a school named for the Vatican enforcer who told Galileo, "The sun revolves around the earth--or else."
What's particularly annoying about the contingent faculty experience is the yearly ritual of meeting the new kids coming straight out of fancy programs with no teaching ability and no publishing record being interviewed for the job you've been fighting to get and will never have an interview for. I have nothing against them, but inevitably one or more of them will get the tenure track job, life will seem easy, and inevitably they'll start treating the contingent faculty as if they suffer from some sort of mild mental handicap. Because, you know, if you weren't mentally handicapped, you'd have a tenure track job or something.
Update at 12:54: Okay, it looks like the APA's server hamsters are back in their wheels and running at a decent pace. Maybe someone could get them some carrots or something?
Friday, November 9, 2007
But academia doesn't work that way. Yeah, it's not like an inside hire's never happened. But this, from the Chronicle forums, is dead on:
My favorite metaphor for this scenario is old whore/wife comparison. As an adjunct for these years, you have been their whore. They like you, they like the "service" you provide them, but they will never commit to you. They can't see you as "wife" material.
But my friend has got a good paper out, and his students and colleagues do like him. And yeah, he's worked himself into the ground for their department. So it's hard not to keep my hopes for the guy in check.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
So I’ve been reading PGS and friends gripe, in a sympathy-eliciting sort of way, about how hard it is to get hired. I’m not trying to get hired this year. (I already have a job, thank you very much.) But my department is trying to hire this year, and I’m on the M&E search committee. So I thought it was time for someone to gripe, in a sympathy-eliciting sort of way, about how hard it is to hire. But I realize that it will be well-nigh impossible to elicit sympathy, from those who are trying to get hired, for those who are trying to hire. So I won’t try to elicit sympathy. Instead, I thought I would do something else: namely, induce panic, despair, angst, ennui, etc. by telling those who are trying to get hired what those who are trying to hire actually do.
I’m at a Leiterespectable department that has aspirations of being Leiterrific. Our deadline was last week, and we’ve received hundreds of applications. We’ll be holding a series of meetings over the next month to come up with a list of a dozen or so candidates that we want to interview at the APA. The first step is to rule out all but 50 or so of the applications. Each file will get looked at by more than one committee member. We’re responsible like that. But on what basis do you think that we will rule out all but 50 or so of the applications? I’ll give you a clue: it doesn’t involve reading any writing samples. It’s not that we’re not required to read any writing samples. Nor is it that some irresponsible committee members won’t read writing samples. It’s that we’re all encouraged not to read any part of any candidate's writing sample at this stage.
That’s right, boys and girls. I know you’ve been slaving away at your writing samples for months now. I just wanted to tell you that, if other departments are anything like ours, chances are that most of the departments that reject you will reject you without reading your work. (Whether this is better, or worse, than being rejected by someone who has read your work, I don’t know.) You may get indignant if you like. I’m just here to tell you how things actually work.
Don’t shoot the messenger. If you shoot the messenger, I won’t come back and tell you about all the other horrible things that we do.
Update: Heh. Whoops. I totally just outed myself for thinking today was Friday, not Thursday. I'm so awesome. I can't believe how awesome I am. Frazzled, much?
Keep movin' folks. Nothing to see here. It's not polite to point and laugh at the crazy philosopher lady who's making an ass of herself in front of her esteemed colleagues.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
One minute I'm convinced I'm a philosophical fraud: I'm a total retard and my dossier is a piece of shit and I'm utterly unqualified for these jobs and I'm not going to get even a single interview. And then the next minute I look at the addresses on the envelopes and freak out because I don't even want most of these jobs: I don't want to live in Assfuck, Nowhere and I don't want to teach a 5-5 to hordes of mouth-breathing douchebags whose deepest philosophical conviction is that thinking deep thoughts probably makes you a faggot.
The best part is how talking myself down from one tends to bring on a fit of the other.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
But this e-mail, which was sent to PJMB friend (and non-philosopher) D, makes me think grade-school dating metaphors might be better. . . .
Hello! [Seriously. An exclamation point. --PGS]Let me introduce myself; I'm [Weirdly Non-committal Prof] and I Chair this year's search at the [Better Than Decent State University]. We are very interested in your application. . . . If you were offered an interview, what's your availability between [such and such date and such and such date]?
[Weirdly Non-committal Prof.]