everybody wants to be special here

I have a blogging problem. As in, I keep wanting to update this blog, but I have issues finding the words to connect to my thoughts. It's a strange dichotomy--I read beautifully written blogs by friends, and I am inspired to write my own entry. But then, I think of those beautifully written blogs, and think that my blather certainly must bore my readers (all TWO of them, I swear) to tears. So! What to do?

I suppose the only way to get better at this is to do it, so...

note: I just dropped the cap of my thermos into my coffee mug. This is not an auspicious beginning.

...the title of this entry comes from "Here Comes a Regular", by the Replacements. (that's Replacements, y'all. You know who you are. Hee.). This line struck me particularly as I reflect on the end of the academic year, and all the angst--and joy--that came along with it. Of course, the line has a certain "duh" quality about it--everybody wants to be special everywhere, but I think that academia creates a certain special pressure cooker effect. It's not enough to be yourself, you must be a star! The misconception of the easy life of a professor is especially galling to those of us who are on the ground. Although we may only spend 12-15 hours or so in the classroom each week, we certainly find plenty of ways in which we spend our days. There's preparing for class--doing readings, updating lectures, finding new and innovative ways to present class material. There's the grading...oh, the never ending grading and feedback (and most of us give many assignments, and steer away from cookbook/multiple choice work, in the name of effective pedagogy). There are the meetings with students--an enjoyable part of the job, but time-consuming nonetheless. And then there are the parts of our job that have little to nothing to do with teaching: research, grant writing, programmatic development, outreach, recruiting, presenting at conferences, writing papers, and--oh yes, the committee work and meetings. How could I forget those? My point is that the nature of the job is such that no matter how many hours a week you work, there is always more to be done. It's very easy to get into the mindset that you are not, and never will be, doing enough. You must always do more, be better, be more special. While this has its good effects--most of us are deeply committed to our jobs, and many of us achieve things we didn't know were possible, it also takes a toll on mental, emotional, and yes, physical, health.

note: boy, I like the double-dash--don't I? Anyway--

The culture of academia feeds this pressure. While the tenure system gives security to those who have it, those of us who are not there yet, or who are not tenure track, have very little security. We are reviewed every year by multiple people. We are asked every week to do more--to support this new initiative, to serve on this ad hoc committee. And most of all, because we are all in the same situation, it is easy for this mindset--that there is never enough--to seem normal. It's easy to tell yourself that you're doing the right thing, and your colleague who actually seems to have a life is a slacker. Sometimes that is true, but it's easy to go overboard. It's easy to say "you shouldn't go to the gym today, you have grading to do." Or "you can't go home at 4:00, what would people think?" And so wellness falls by the wayside. (Forget the Freshman Fifteen, my fear is the Tenure Track Twenty!). Soon the internal tensions spill out into the world, and working relationships/friendships/family relations can become strained. This, I have learned, is no way to live.

So, by the end of the year, it's easy to become burned out, cynical. To ask oneself "why am I doing this?" And then a series of things happen....

...you get together for coffee or drinks with colleagues and realize that this job has allowed you to work with some of the best people you've ever known.

...you get an email from a student thanking you for everything you've done for him/her

...your student evaluations are fair, and even contain some gems ("you made me love science!" "we love you!")

...you travel with two students, two of your research mentees, who would not have had the opportunity to pursue research at a larger school. You see the joy and pure interest they have in their project. You see how the project allows you, and your students, to build community--not just with each other, but with colleagues from other schools, and with other cultures and communities.

...you see others working hard to provide access and opportunity to others, especially those who may be ignored by traditional educational systems

And when those things happen, you realize--that is why you do it. At least, that's how it works for me. I know that the next years are going to be fraught with worry, with tension, with uncertainty. I will strive to remain certain that there is a reason for me to do this, and that is what matters more than any line on my tenure dossier.

(next: how i learned to stop worrying and...ok that doesn't work. how i learned to achieve work/life balance. ok, that's not even true. how i AM LEARNING to achieve work/life balance. there. close enough).