I'm pretty certain that my department chair isn't reading ALI blogs, so I can safely quote a stand-out word from my annual review letter, which I read yesterday. He characterized my year as "tumultuous," what with the new baby and the promotion and the tenure debacle that preceded it. He has no freaking idea. Really, the last three years, since the Summer of Miscarriage and IVF, have been tumultuous; I just covered it up pretty well.
But the years of not getting much work done (well, more accurately, of not getting work published) have caught up with me, as per the fairly abysmal (okay, not abysmal but pretty much smack dab in the center) merit review. It made me mad and ashamed and all sorts of bad emotions, even though I expected it. Even though, in the whole scheme of not really getting raises, it doesn't matter in any tangible way.
It matters a lot insofar as once upon a time ago in a grad program far far away, I was a "star." I was one of those people who won awards all throughout high school and college and graduate school and then got not one but two tenure track jobs in a field in which less than 30% of people with PhDs get tenure track jobs (or at least that's the figure I seem to remember from back then; it's even worse now). And then I found myself a single mama at an R1 institution, completely overwhelmed by trying to navigate toddlerhood with what was expected of me. Spent my first three years writing and writing and getting things in the mail and creating a publication record thatshould did earn me tenure. Then LG turned into a normal human who slept on something resembling a normal human schedule and I passed my third year review with flying colors and found something resembling balance and decided to have kid #2, which brings us to the narrative of Something Remarkable.
For a long time school/work was my life. It was refuge for me growing up, and then those first few years on the tenure track when I was also struggling with the desire for motherhood, which quickly became infertility and pregnancy loss. And now that I find myself "post" infertility (which isn't really "post," as I am still infertile, but at least post-infertility treatment) and post-tenure, I'm back in a place where I really want to succeed in my profession again.
I have no desire to be a "star" in my field. I do have a strong desire to do my job well, without being harried and without stalling out at the associate level as so many female academics do. I know my next annual review is going to suck at least as much as this current one did, given I don't have anything coming out in the next few months. But I have higher hopes for 2013-2014.
I'm slowly making headway with two book projects, in two different fields. I have a number of other projects on the back burner, but still in the works. I have a sabbatical next fall and dammit with Tiny Boy in full-time daycare, I really should have a decent working draft of this book. Originally my plan for the summer was to race through and have a complete (but probably very sloppy) draft by the time fall rolled around, but I find myself back-tracking and redoing the last chapter I wrote, pushing it in different directions. I don't think that's a bad thing. It will be better for it.
After eleven years (holy crap, is that even possible?!) in this profession I think I have a pretty good sense of how I work. And what I need to remind myself is that those methods got me through graduate school. Those methods got me tenure. So really there's no reason to question my methods. I just need to keep plugging away, putting words on paper, and in about five years I should be ready to go up for promotion again, just as Tiny Boy starts elementary school. It's really amazing to contemplate.
But the years of not getting much work done (well, more accurately, of not getting work published) have caught up with me, as per the fairly abysmal (okay, not abysmal but pretty much smack dab in the center) merit review. It made me mad and ashamed and all sorts of bad emotions, even though I expected it. Even though, in the whole scheme of not really getting raises, it doesn't matter in any tangible way.
It matters a lot insofar as once upon a time ago in a grad program far far away, I was a "star." I was one of those people who won awards all throughout high school and college and graduate school and then got not one but two tenure track jobs in a field in which less than 30% of people with PhDs get tenure track jobs (or at least that's the figure I seem to remember from back then; it's even worse now). And then I found myself a single mama at an R1 institution, completely overwhelmed by trying to navigate toddlerhood with what was expected of me. Spent my first three years writing and writing and getting things in the mail and creating a publication record that
For a long time school/work was my life. It was refuge for me growing up, and then those first few years on the tenure track when I was also struggling with the desire for motherhood, which quickly became infertility and pregnancy loss. And now that I find myself "post" infertility (which isn't really "post," as I am still infertile, but at least post-infertility treatment) and post-tenure, I'm back in a place where I really want to succeed in my profession again.
I have no desire to be a "star" in my field. I do have a strong desire to do my job well, without being harried and without stalling out at the associate level as so many female academics do. I know my next annual review is going to suck at least as much as this current one did, given I don't have anything coming out in the next few months. But I have higher hopes for 2013-2014.
I'm slowly making headway with two book projects, in two different fields. I have a number of other projects on the back burner, but still in the works. I have a sabbatical next fall and dammit with Tiny Boy in full-time daycare, I really should have a decent working draft of this book. Originally my plan for the summer was to race through and have a complete (but probably very sloppy) draft by the time fall rolled around, but I find myself back-tracking and redoing the last chapter I wrote, pushing it in different directions. I don't think that's a bad thing. It will be better for it.
After eleven years (holy crap, is that even possible?!) in this profession I think I have a pretty good sense of how I work. And what I need to remind myself is that those methods got me through graduate school. Those methods got me tenure. So really there's no reason to question my methods. I just need to keep plugging away, putting words on paper, and in about five years I should be ready to go up for promotion again, just as Tiny Boy starts elementary school. It's really amazing to contemplate.
It seems to me that you've done a remarkable (!) job learning balance ... and I think that you're an amazing mother and academic.
ReplyDeleteThough I had to laugh at the "tumultuous" comment. I mean, really ... would anyone but a MALE write that?! HA!
Awww...thank you!
ReplyDeleteThe fact that you've been able to keep your job and get even a mediocre performance review after all you've gone through the past few years is just amazing.
ReplyDeleteYou'll have time to get back to being the superstar again in a few years...until then, revel in the mediocrity! :)
Such an interesting post. I had an... accurate annual review this year, which reflected the fact that I've been off having babies and not caring about anything, and I'll be having another one of those (er, accurate reviews, though also babies), perhaps several. It was hard to take as, I'd always had fairly stellar ones. And, like you, I don't need to be a star, but I do want to gain some new momentum some magical how. I kinda wasn't aware of how much I wanted that until I got an email for "mid-career" female faculty offering a series of workshops on how to deal with the "what next" phenomenon. (Hey, maybe your institution has some kind of formal support?) ANYHOW, it does sound like you can trust your process and just keep on doing what you're doing, given how awesomely it's worked!
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