It's been a year since I earned tenure, and I'm starting to think about the next big steps I want to take. One thing I want to do is edit a collection of essays about the work of David Wojnarowicz, the artist I've been studying for a few years. I realized that I don't really want to write a book about him because I don't really care what I think, but I'd love to know what other people think. That's when the idea of a collection hit me. I've co-edited a couple, so I certainly know how to do it.
Here's the question. What do people think of editors who include their own work as a chapter? Every once in awhile, I hear some criticize an editor for doing that. I've often thought of it as a good thing. It's the editor putting herself or himself out there just like the other chapter authors. Also, I assume the editor has some passion for the subject, so it's cool to see what she or he has to say beyond the general introduction. But maybe I'm in the minority?
Because here's the question. As I create a call for submissions and take the time to let people write abstracts and essays, I've wondered if I should work on my own essay and send it to a journal or save it for the collection. Anyone have thoughts?
This is going to start something of a series here. I'm questioning where to best place my energy, so I'm exploring ideas and options.
Showing posts with label Academic Culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Academic Culture. Show all posts
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Too Organized (Except When You Need Something from Me)
People often make fun of me for being organized. I'm not obsessive-compulsive, at least not unusually so. But I do have a place for everything and everything in its place, and when things get out of whack, I feel it and show it. I get flustered very easily. I know most jokes are in good fun. Today, though, someone needed a particular piece of paper from me. We went to my office, and I got it for hir, at which point, zie got a little wide-eyed and said, "Your office is freaking me out. It's too organized." At which point I said, "Good thing, too, or I might not have been able to find what you needed."
Zie changed the subject at that point.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Professors are People, Too
Last night, I led another book discussion, this one at Avon Free Public Library. The book was Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler. It's a very experimental novel with different narratives interspersed within a meta-narrative about reading, writing, publishing, and translating. The woman who coordinates the discussions was in the room when I arrived, and we discussed whether people would show up or whether they might have given up on the book and skipped this time around. Several people did show up, though, and we talked for well over an hour. It was actually almost ninety minutes.
I've led a couple of other discussions there before on books I knew rather well. The last one was on The Bell Jar, which I could talk about in my sleep. This time around, I told the coordinator to let me know what she would like to have discussed. I was game for anything. This being such an odd, experimental text, I was a little concerned about what to say about it. I made it clear at the start that I'm not a Calvino expert or even all that knowledgeable about Italian literature, but I threw out some thoughts I had about why I think he might have written the book and what it was about his life that might have influenced this book.
Toward the end of our discussion, one of the participants brought up that he would not have finished the book if it weren't for the discussion, and he was interested in hearing what an expert would say about the book. I reminded him that I was an expert, and I told him how my background in rhetoric influences my reading of any book because it pushed me to think about such things as the cultural contexts in which books are written and how the author's life influenced the text, which is why I gave the speculations I did at the start.
He then asked me if I would have read this book on my own, and I said that I probably would have picked it up, found the beginning interesting, but stopped before the book was done. That gave everyone a good laugh, and he said he was glad to hear it. He'd said earlier that he wondered if he didn't get the book because he wasn't smart enough to get it, and I said that certainly was not the case.
It was one of those moments when I remembered that some people do look at university professors as a different breed of people, a group that is smarter and perhaps even more refined than the general population. Thoughts like that always make me laugh. Anyone who has earned a PhD knows many professors who want people to think we are a step above the masses, but we also know that's clearly not the case. As much as it would annoy some of the professoriate to hear me say, it's not intelligence that makes us who we are. Our education makes us look at things in a certain way in the same ways that any training affects anyone, but it sometimes takes effort more than intelligence to get that education.
Shh, don't tell anyone.
I've led a couple of other discussions there before on books I knew rather well. The last one was on The Bell Jar, which I could talk about in my sleep. This time around, I told the coordinator to let me know what she would like to have discussed. I was game for anything. This being such an odd, experimental text, I was a little concerned about what to say about it. I made it clear at the start that I'm not a Calvino expert or even all that knowledgeable about Italian literature, but I threw out some thoughts I had about why I think he might have written the book and what it was about his life that might have influenced this book.
Toward the end of our discussion, one of the participants brought up that he would not have finished the book if it weren't for the discussion, and he was interested in hearing what an expert would say about the book. I reminded him that I was an expert, and I told him how my background in rhetoric influences my reading of any book because it pushed me to think about such things as the cultural contexts in which books are written and how the author's life influenced the text, which is why I gave the speculations I did at the start.
He then asked me if I would have read this book on my own, and I said that I probably would have picked it up, found the beginning interesting, but stopped before the book was done. That gave everyone a good laugh, and he said he was glad to hear it. He'd said earlier that he wondered if he didn't get the book because he wasn't smart enough to get it, and I said that certainly was not the case.
It was one of those moments when I remembered that some people do look at university professors as a different breed of people, a group that is smarter and perhaps even more refined than the general population. Thoughts like that always make me laugh. Anyone who has earned a PhD knows many professors who want people to think we are a step above the masses, but we also know that's clearly not the case. As much as it would annoy some of the professoriate to hear me say, it's not intelligence that makes us who we are. Our education makes us look at things in a certain way in the same ways that any training affects anyone, but it sometimes takes effort more than intelligence to get that education.
Shh, don't tell anyone.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Can't Wait to See the Search Terms That Lead to This Entry
For the NYU class I'm auditing, we're reading Catherine MacKinnon's Only Words, which is a short book that contains three essays on speech and equality. I'm still in the middle of the first one because I keep getting annoyed and have to stop. Anyone who has engaged with her work over the last twenty years or more can probably figure out why (check her Wikipedia entry if you want an overview of her positions). It's just so annoying that she creates a monolithic definition of pornography that ignores porn without women or without men, meaning gay and lesbian pornography.
Yet, she says that her ideas and activism should apply to all forms of pornography whatever their gendered makeup. For those with the book, see footnote 32, pages 121-2. And shall I note that she only comments on lesbian and gay porn in a footnote? She never says anything specific about how her analysis applies to non-heterosexual porn, and that just keeps pissing me off. She has examples from heterosexual porn, but she doesn't care enough about other forms to engage with them. She only wants throw out a blanket criticism and leave it at that.
I mean, she writes, "With pornography, men masturbate to women being exposed, humiliated, violated, degraded, mutilated, dismembered, bound, gagged, tortured, and killed" (17). Umm, what if there are no women in it? And that is nothing compared to "Empirically, all pornography is made under conditions of inequality based on sex, overwhelmingly by poor, desperate, homeless pimped women who were sexually abused as children" (20). It's the "all pornography" that gets me.
I can see how her argument fits a lot of heterosexual porn. I do believe that Deep Throat is quite possibly a film of Linda Boreman being raped. I have seen many examples of porn depicting the abuse and degradation of women. But to lump lesbian and gay pornography into the same category yet not say anything specific about why?
Sure, lesbian and gay pornography can celebrate abuse and degradation in the same ways that heterosexual porn can. But I think gay pornography especially has a unique history and grew out of particular contexts that are different than straight porn. And I do not think those histories and contexts should be ignored.
I don't want to dismiss her work, but the way she dismisses gay pornography makes me wonder if I should.
Yet, she says that her ideas and activism should apply to all forms of pornography whatever their gendered makeup. For those with the book, see footnote 32, pages 121-2. And shall I note that she only comments on lesbian and gay porn in a footnote? She never says anything specific about how her analysis applies to non-heterosexual porn, and that just keeps pissing me off. She has examples from heterosexual porn, but she doesn't care enough about other forms to engage with them. She only wants throw out a blanket criticism and leave it at that.
I mean, she writes, "With pornography, men masturbate to women being exposed, humiliated, violated, degraded, mutilated, dismembered, bound, gagged, tortured, and killed" (17). Umm, what if there are no women in it? And that is nothing compared to "Empirically, all pornography is made under conditions of inequality based on sex, overwhelmingly by poor, desperate, homeless pimped women who were sexually abused as children" (20). It's the "all pornography" that gets me.
I can see how her argument fits a lot of heterosexual porn. I do believe that Deep Throat is quite possibly a film of Linda Boreman being raped. I have seen many examples of porn depicting the abuse and degradation of women. But to lump lesbian and gay pornography into the same category yet not say anything specific about why?
Sure, lesbian and gay pornography can celebrate abuse and degradation in the same ways that heterosexual porn can. But I think gay pornography especially has a unique history and grew out of particular contexts that are different than straight porn. And I do not think those histories and contexts should be ignored.
I don't want to dismiss her work, but the way she dismisses gay pornography makes me wonder if I should.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
You're Reading Prof. Hacker, Right?
I hope all interested academics who read me are also keeping up with Prof. Hacker. We had our official launch last week, and I say "we" because I've joined the team of writers. You can check out the list of posts I've written, which will hopefully grow longer each week. The site is filling a need for academics, and I hope you let us know what you think and what you'd like to see us cover.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
The Existence of Homophobia
Some readers may have seen my comments on a post at Prof. Hacker about making student evaluations of our teaching public. I've received a couple of private comments about what I had to say over there, mainly from people surprised at some of the things I said. Basically, I posted some cautionary comments, and I admit that I kinda went all over the place with those comments. As part of my administrative job, I read hundreds of student evaluations each semester, and I have seen some very, very disturbing comments. I have seen a lot of racism, sexism, homophobia, ageism, and the like over and over again.
As we all know, in spaces that allow for anonymity, we can easily encounter people that throw around things like the N-word (which I refuse to type or say). I have been called a fag more than once on my own evaluations. Interestingly, in my case, the use of such words has not always coincided with low numbers or other negative comments. In fact, they often come with perfect scores and other positive comments. For example, there was the student who called me one of the best professors she or he had ever had, giving me the highest rankings on the quantitative side, but my being a fag still creeped him or her out.
As I mentioned over there (perhaps unclearly), the thought of posting such evaluations online disturbs me for various reasons. One of those reasons is that I just don't want to be reminded again and again of how often I have to deal with homophobia in my daily life. And that is where the private comments I received came from. People who keep up with my blog and other online presences have been surprised to find out that homophobia is a part of my life because I never talk about it.
Quite frankly, I never talk about it because it hurts. Also, I often get the feeling the people don't believe me. It's kind of like Elaine Scarry's argument that those who feel physical pain are certain they are in pain while those around them often doubt if the pain is as bad as it sounds. If I talk about encountering a moment of homophbia, I often get a "Really?", as though people aren't sure it was as bad as I described.
See, here's something I have never said on the blog but that I have said in private conversations. I have encountered more moments of homophobia since I moved to New England than I ever did living in the south or the midwest. There may be lots of reasons for this, including the times of living in each place and other individual elements of life in these various places. But people have told me that I must be so happy to live in a place that is so gay friendly. We have gay marriage here! We have anti-discrimination laws! We have all this stuff that other people are fighting for, and we do have those things. But that does not mean homophobia is gone.
In fact, I sometimes wonder if the reason why Da Man and I have had difficult times here is because the larger political climate is gay friendly, so those who disagree with that ideology feel pushed to do things that reflect their homophobic thinking. Now I am not arguing at all that I wish those laws were gone or that activism should end. No, no, no! I am just trying to get people to acknowledge that remnants of homophobia that exist, much like the racism that still exists after Obama's election. On one level, there have been major changes. And on other levels, people are pissed and fighting against those changes. And some of us encounter that anger more easily than others.
Over on that post at Prof. Hacker, I felt like I did a brain dump of lots and lots of ideas, allowing important points to get clouded. I mixed up the idea of inappropriate and personal comments with comments that reflect damaging ideologies like racism, sexism, and homophobia. I do think there is a difference. Perhaps that difference is subtle. How do we know that comments about a straight, white man's clothes or body shape are truly an individual attack and not a reflection of an ideology? And how do we know that the same comments about an African-American lesbian are not a reflection of such ideologies and are truly a personal attack? In the continuing discussion about posting student evaluations online, those will be topics that have to be addressed if not answered.
My point in this entry is simply that many of us encounter general moments of hatred regularly even if we don't talk about it. Now, many might say I should talk about it. I should mention each and every instance on this blog and get it out there. I should confront it head on. And there's a lot of truth to that. But sometimes that confrontation is just exhausting. I do sometimes confront people directly. I sometimes don't. I sometimes process it in my paper journal. I sometimes try to let it go. I sometimes wallow in the pain and feel it deeply. And I sometimes try to shove it aside and ignore it so I can stop feeling the pain.
Having been keeping a blog or online journal for over ten years now, I often get comments from people who say they admire me for writing about myself and my life so publicly, and I appreciate those comments so much. Maybe I haven't been fair by not talking about everything, by not creating a complete picture of my life. Yes, such completeness is impossible, but some might see not talking about such things as a gap that should not be here. I'm sorry for that.
And it's not like it never appears on the blog. I've certainly gotten public comments that I am wrong to be living my life as I have been living it, though I don't think I've gotten any of those on this blog, yet. And I have not let the homophobia stop me from living the life I want to live. Some may say my lack of discussion shows I'm hiding, but I disagree. I don't think of myself as someone who hides who I am from the world.
Even if none of the women you know talk about sexism, it doesn't mean they don't encounter it regularly. Maybe they don't, but maybe they do. And take all the other damaging ideologies and do the same thing. Not all marginalized people encounter hatred, but many do. It's a part of just about every aspect of our world. There might be people who get away from it, but a lot of us don't.
As we all know, in spaces that allow for anonymity, we can easily encounter people that throw around things like the N-word (which I refuse to type or say). I have been called a fag more than once on my own evaluations. Interestingly, in my case, the use of such words has not always coincided with low numbers or other negative comments. In fact, they often come with perfect scores and other positive comments. For example, there was the student who called me one of the best professors she or he had ever had, giving me the highest rankings on the quantitative side, but my being a fag still creeped him or her out.
As I mentioned over there (perhaps unclearly), the thought of posting such evaluations online disturbs me for various reasons. One of those reasons is that I just don't want to be reminded again and again of how often I have to deal with homophobia in my daily life. And that is where the private comments I received came from. People who keep up with my blog and other online presences have been surprised to find out that homophobia is a part of my life because I never talk about it.
Quite frankly, I never talk about it because it hurts. Also, I often get the feeling the people don't believe me. It's kind of like Elaine Scarry's argument that those who feel physical pain are certain they are in pain while those around them often doubt if the pain is as bad as it sounds. If I talk about encountering a moment of homophbia, I often get a "Really?", as though people aren't sure it was as bad as I described.
See, here's something I have never said on the blog but that I have said in private conversations. I have encountered more moments of homophobia since I moved to New England than I ever did living in the south or the midwest. There may be lots of reasons for this, including the times of living in each place and other individual elements of life in these various places. But people have told me that I must be so happy to live in a place that is so gay friendly. We have gay marriage here! We have anti-discrimination laws! We have all this stuff that other people are fighting for, and we do have those things. But that does not mean homophobia is gone.
In fact, I sometimes wonder if the reason why Da Man and I have had difficult times here is because the larger political climate is gay friendly, so those who disagree with that ideology feel pushed to do things that reflect their homophobic thinking. Now I am not arguing at all that I wish those laws were gone or that activism should end. No, no, no! I am just trying to get people to acknowledge that remnants of homophobia that exist, much like the racism that still exists after Obama's election. On one level, there have been major changes. And on other levels, people are pissed and fighting against those changes. And some of us encounter that anger more easily than others.
Over on that post at Prof. Hacker, I felt like I did a brain dump of lots and lots of ideas, allowing important points to get clouded. I mixed up the idea of inappropriate and personal comments with comments that reflect damaging ideologies like racism, sexism, and homophobia. I do think there is a difference. Perhaps that difference is subtle. How do we know that comments about a straight, white man's clothes or body shape are truly an individual attack and not a reflection of an ideology? And how do we know that the same comments about an African-American lesbian are not a reflection of such ideologies and are truly a personal attack? In the continuing discussion about posting student evaluations online, those will be topics that have to be addressed if not answered.
My point in this entry is simply that many of us encounter general moments of hatred regularly even if we don't talk about it. Now, many might say I should talk about it. I should mention each and every instance on this blog and get it out there. I should confront it head on. And there's a lot of truth to that. But sometimes that confrontation is just exhausting. I do sometimes confront people directly. I sometimes don't. I sometimes process it in my paper journal. I sometimes try to let it go. I sometimes wallow in the pain and feel it deeply. And I sometimes try to shove it aside and ignore it so I can stop feeling the pain.
Having been keeping a blog or online journal for over ten years now, I often get comments from people who say they admire me for writing about myself and my life so publicly, and I appreciate those comments so much. Maybe I haven't been fair by not talking about everything, by not creating a complete picture of my life. Yes, such completeness is impossible, but some might see not talking about such things as a gap that should not be here. I'm sorry for that.
And it's not like it never appears on the blog. I've certainly gotten public comments that I am wrong to be living my life as I have been living it, though I don't think I've gotten any of those on this blog, yet. And I have not let the homophobia stop me from living the life I want to live. Some may say my lack of discussion shows I'm hiding, but I disagree. I don't think of myself as someone who hides who I am from the world.
Even if none of the women you know talk about sexism, it doesn't mean they don't encounter it regularly. Maybe they don't, but maybe they do. And take all the other damaging ideologies and do the same thing. Not all marginalized people encounter hatred, but many do. It's a part of just about every aspect of our world. There might be people who get away from it, but a lot of us don't.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Remember That Journal I Asked About?
A few weeks ago, I posted a question about what to do when it has been almost a year since you'd heard about a journal submission, and the editor keeps giving you the runaround. After hearing people's thoughts, I'd decided that I was going to wait until it had been a full year since the first email from the editor saying they had received my essay and then email them, asking for a response and saying I really appreciate the opportunity for feedback but saying that I would send it elsewhere after two weeks. That was the plan, at least.
Sunday night, when I went to check email before bed, there was a message from one of the members of the editorial collective. They liked the essay and thought it was a great fit for the journal and wanted one change "before a final review prior to publication." And the change was pretty simple. I'm writing about specific moments related to my teaching of issues related to gender and sexual identity, and I presented the discussion through the framework of my body, what it means when my body is in the classroom teaching different things. They said that it seemed I was talking more about identity than the body, so they wanted a shift in how I framed the essay. And that makes perfect sense to me. So, I spent this afternoon making those changes and emailed it back to them tonight.
I admit that I'm not getting my hopes up too fast, though. First, the email thanked me for resubmitting my essay. But this was the initial submission. I'd never received a revise-and-resubmit request. And I wrote back Monday saying I could get the revision to them soon, asking how they wanted to receive it. I hadn't heard anything, though we're just approaching the third day after I sent it. If they really think it's that close to publication, then fantastic. I thought it needed more work, but that's why I needed responses. Considering how the timing has gone so far, it may still be a long time before this moves forward, but I made the requested change and got it out of my inbox fast.
Sunday night, when I went to check email before bed, there was a message from one of the members of the editorial collective. They liked the essay and thought it was a great fit for the journal and wanted one change "before a final review prior to publication." And the change was pretty simple. I'm writing about specific moments related to my teaching of issues related to gender and sexual identity, and I presented the discussion through the framework of my body, what it means when my body is in the classroom teaching different things. They said that it seemed I was talking more about identity than the body, so they wanted a shift in how I framed the essay. And that makes perfect sense to me. So, I spent this afternoon making those changes and emailed it back to them tonight.
I admit that I'm not getting my hopes up too fast, though. First, the email thanked me for resubmitting my essay. But this was the initial submission. I'd never received a revise-and-resubmit request. And I wrote back Monday saying I could get the revision to them soon, asking how they wanted to receive it. I hadn't heard anything, though we're just approaching the third day after I sent it. If they really think it's that close to publication, then fantastic. I thought it needed more work, but that's why I needed responses. Considering how the timing has gone so far, it may still be a long time before this moves forward, but I made the requested change and got it out of my inbox fast.
Friday, June 5, 2009
A Question for My Academic Peeps
At what point do you tell a journal editor to pull your article from consideration? I sent an article to an editor last June. In July, I get an email saying to give them six months. In January, after six months, I email, and she says I will "hear soon." In May, I email and hear they are really sorry but they will let me know the status when they are in the office on Monday (this was a Saturday that I emailed). In a few weeks, it will be a year.
To be honest, it's an article I wrote very quickly because I wanted to have something else in my tenure packet under submission somewhere. Sure, I worked on it, and it's got some things I like, but I'm not so fully invested in it, certainly not in its current state. But I'd love the feedback. I learn a lot from that feedback.
So I could just wait, but I'm beginning to wonder if that passivity on my part will encourage their passivity, and I'll never hear a thing. Do I pull it? Perhaps by replying to the email that says six months so I can show that I've waited a year? Am I the one being unreasonable? Do I wait?
To be honest, it's an article I wrote very quickly because I wanted to have something else in my tenure packet under submission somewhere. Sure, I worked on it, and it's got some things I like, but I'm not so fully invested in it, certainly not in its current state. But I'd love the feedback. I learn a lot from that feedback.
So I could just wait, but I'm beginning to wonder if that passivity on my part will encourage their passivity, and I'll never hear a thing. Do I pull it? Perhaps by replying to the email that says six months so I can show that I've waited a year? Am I the one being unreasonable? Do I wait?
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Processing What CCCC 2009 Meant to Me
I'm at the airport in San Francisco about four hours before my flight, the red-eye to Minneapolis where I'll transfer to a Hartford flight, arriving close to lunch tomorrow. Having grown up in the Central time zone, I'll often joke with Da Man--who grew up with Eastern--about which time zone is "correct." I don't think either of us will ever want to argue for Pacific. It's only three hours, but I'm too used to things over on the other side. As Da Man said, "If it's good enough for the Founding Fathers, it's good enough for me."
But this has been a pretty damn good trip. If it hasn't already, the complaining will begin soon. And, sure, sometimes we have to complain to make needed change happen, but it seems like I hear the same complaints about CCCC every year, that it's out of touch and too massive and too expensive, that too many people read their papers or that too many people didn't put enough effort into their presentations and spoke off-the-cuff too much. I've been going to this conference off-and-on since 1996, so I've heard a lot of complaints. And maybe they are justified. Maybe I'm not invested enough in the field to see what should happen. But that fact remains that I always leave this conference inspired.
Some of the inspiration is professional. My presentation went better than I exepcted. I had people stop me throughout the day to comment on it, which I wasn't expecting. All joking aside about a PowerPoint full of pensises, I do think porn is worth talking about, and I'll continue to do so. I now know others are open to hearing it.
Also, I'm inspired to continue thinking of myself as a teacher first and a scholar second. It's how I've thought of myself for a long time, but I didn't say it a lot because there is a certain amount of shame that comes with putting teaching first, at leasat in academia in general. But I got tenure with that attitude, and I know I can and shoudl maintain it. The panels that I attended where people talked specifically about what they did in the classroom were, as always, my favorites. I got a lot of ideas. After Jenny's panel, I'd love to incorporate some archival work into my classes. And from other panel, I came away with a list of readings or assignments or ideas. The only time I was disappointed was when one panel was less about teaching than it sounded. Ah, well. I'm sure it worked for others in the audience.
At various points, I ran into each of the colleagues from Univ. of Illinois at Chicago who did their job search the same year I did. Back in 2003, we each found good jobs. And in 2009, we each earned tenure at them. That was great to hear, whether we were close or not. I also got to spend several hours yesterday with one of my best friends from my years at Ohio State, a woman who also went on the market and started her job in 2003. She earned tenure this year, too, which makes me so happy. She was actually in literature but with a strong rhet/comp background, and we meet back in 1995. She spent many Thanksgivings and July Fourths are our place, calling Da Man and I her Ohio family. I hadn't seen her since 2003 when we all went to dinner with our mentor before moving to other parts of the country. Since then, she'd married, and I got to meet her husband yesterday, too. And he's way better for her than either of the guys she dated seriously back in Ohio. Da Man didn't feel like he was missing anything by not joining me on this trip until he heard that she had flown in. She hadn't told any of us and just called my room and left a message on Thursday. It's great to see so many people from my grad school days doing well.
That partly exemplifes how conferences for me are not just about the professional inspiration. I usually do see people from my past who played a role in the person and professional that I've become, and it's great to feel like I've grown. It reminds me of the work I did to get to this point in my life and the work I have to do to stay here (or continuing moving in the directions I want).
I guess you could say it's also inspiring to be in a great city like San Francisco. I've only been here twice, but I've had a blast both times. Yes, "gay-friendly" does not even begin to describe this city, and it's great to have a range of places to choose from for a night out. And it's great to have a good time, too. Okay, I will admit that I get hit on more in San Francisco than anywhere else. Even happily-married, middle-aged, overweight guys like to get attention now and then. Da Man was not sorry he missed seeing any of that happen.
But there's more, too. I spent a good chunk of today at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It was free since it was Family Day sponsered by Target. Thanks, Target! And, about six months ago, they started allowing people to take photos of the art (without flash). As soon as I heard that, I geeked out. I took about three hundred photos. I got up close and just took shots of bright colors and odd lines. I got on the floor to get some odd-angled shots of various sculptures. They don't allow photos of all exhibits, and I did get told twice to stop, but it's not like I saw any signs and knew what was allowed when. And they didn't make me delete anything I took. I can't wait to download them and seee what came out. Working without flash or tripod can be tricky, but out of three hundred, some have to be good. I realized once again that a contemporary art museum is always a happy place for me to be. I need to go to them more often, which I know I've said before.
All this said, though, I think I'll be opting out of CCCC 2010 in Lousiville. I had a blast when I went to the Watson conference there in 2006, but I often need a break from the intense energy of CCCC, which is why I like to have a city in which I can wander, places where I know I can "hide" a bit, whether those places be clubs or museums like I did on this trip. And Louisville isn't that kind of place for me. Plus, there are some other conferences I'm thinking of for next year.
At any rate, CCCC 2009 was a hit in my book. I'm ready to get home, really ready. But I'm glad I came.
But this has been a pretty damn good trip. If it hasn't already, the complaining will begin soon. And, sure, sometimes we have to complain to make needed change happen, but it seems like I hear the same complaints about CCCC every year, that it's out of touch and too massive and too expensive, that too many people read their papers or that too many people didn't put enough effort into their presentations and spoke off-the-cuff too much. I've been going to this conference off-and-on since 1996, so I've heard a lot of complaints. And maybe they are justified. Maybe I'm not invested enough in the field to see what should happen. But that fact remains that I always leave this conference inspired.
Some of the inspiration is professional. My presentation went better than I exepcted. I had people stop me throughout the day to comment on it, which I wasn't expecting. All joking aside about a PowerPoint full of pensises, I do think porn is worth talking about, and I'll continue to do so. I now know others are open to hearing it.
Also, I'm inspired to continue thinking of myself as a teacher first and a scholar second. It's how I've thought of myself for a long time, but I didn't say it a lot because there is a certain amount of shame that comes with putting teaching first, at leasat in academia in general. But I got tenure with that attitude, and I know I can and shoudl maintain it. The panels that I attended where people talked specifically about what they did in the classroom were, as always, my favorites. I got a lot of ideas. After Jenny's panel, I'd love to incorporate some archival work into my classes. And from other panel, I came away with a list of readings or assignments or ideas. The only time I was disappointed was when one panel was less about teaching than it sounded. Ah, well. I'm sure it worked for others in the audience.
At various points, I ran into each of the colleagues from Univ. of Illinois at Chicago who did their job search the same year I did. Back in 2003, we each found good jobs. And in 2009, we each earned tenure at them. That was great to hear, whether we were close or not. I also got to spend several hours yesterday with one of my best friends from my years at Ohio State, a woman who also went on the market and started her job in 2003. She earned tenure this year, too, which makes me so happy. She was actually in literature but with a strong rhet/comp background, and we meet back in 1995. She spent many Thanksgivings and July Fourths are our place, calling Da Man and I her Ohio family. I hadn't seen her since 2003 when we all went to dinner with our mentor before moving to other parts of the country. Since then, she'd married, and I got to meet her husband yesterday, too. And he's way better for her than either of the guys she dated seriously back in Ohio. Da Man didn't feel like he was missing anything by not joining me on this trip until he heard that she had flown in. She hadn't told any of us and just called my room and left a message on Thursday. It's great to see so many people from my grad school days doing well.
That partly exemplifes how conferences for me are not just about the professional inspiration. I usually do see people from my past who played a role in the person and professional that I've become, and it's great to feel like I've grown. It reminds me of the work I did to get to this point in my life and the work I have to do to stay here (or continuing moving in the directions I want).
I guess you could say it's also inspiring to be in a great city like San Francisco. I've only been here twice, but I've had a blast both times. Yes, "gay-friendly" does not even begin to describe this city, and it's great to have a range of places to choose from for a night out. And it's great to have a good time, too. Okay, I will admit that I get hit on more in San Francisco than anywhere else. Even happily-married, middle-aged, overweight guys like to get attention now and then. Da Man was not sorry he missed seeing any of that happen.
But there's more, too. I spent a good chunk of today at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It was free since it was Family Day sponsered by Target. Thanks, Target! And, about six months ago, they started allowing people to take photos of the art (without flash). As soon as I heard that, I geeked out. I took about three hundred photos. I got up close and just took shots of bright colors and odd lines. I got on the floor to get some odd-angled shots of various sculptures. They don't allow photos of all exhibits, and I did get told twice to stop, but it's not like I saw any signs and knew what was allowed when. And they didn't make me delete anything I took. I can't wait to download them and seee what came out. Working without flash or tripod can be tricky, but out of three hundred, some have to be good. I realized once again that a contemporary art museum is always a happy place for me to be. I need to go to them more often, which I know I've said before.
All this said, though, I think I'll be opting out of CCCC 2010 in Lousiville. I had a blast when I went to the Watson conference there in 2006, but I often need a break from the intense energy of CCCC, which is why I like to have a city in which I can wander, places where I know I can "hide" a bit, whether those places be clubs or museums like I did on this trip. And Louisville isn't that kind of place for me. Plus, there are some other conferences I'm thinking of for next year.
At any rate, CCCC 2009 was a hit in my book. I'm ready to get home, really ready. But I'm glad I came.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Calling for Greater Transparency
An odd thing happened recently that got me thinking about a bigger issue in academic culture. I applied for both a seminar and a workshop at the Rhetoric Society of America's summer institute. I was accepted into the week-long seminar on visual rhetoric, which made me really happy. I knew it was going to be competitive, but I also knew I had to try. Every time I read the description, I got excited. I was rejected for the weekend workshop on performance studies and rhetoric. I was a little surprised by that because I think my work aligns pretty closely with that topic. But rejections happen.
With my rejection, though, came a note saying that I could be considered for other workshops that still had openings. The problem is that the workshop to which I applied was on that list. I sent an email asking if there was some mistake, and I received one back saying that it was an error for that workshop to have been listed as an option for me.
My problem is that, to be accepted into another workshop, those of us rejected from workshops just have to send an email back listing the workshop (and alternatives) that we'd like to take. It says nothing about writing a statement or providing any justification for why we want to take that workshop, which is what we had to do in our original application. In other words, I was rejected for the workshop based upon what I had written but other people can be accepted into it without having to write anything.
I'll admit, that irks me. I would have had a better chance of getting in if I'd applied for another one and been rejected from that. And I have not gotten any explanation for why that is. I understand that it's pretty common to get rejected for jobs, from journals, and for other programs and have no reason given. I've had that happen a lot. It just feels odd to be rejected when I submitted a full application knowing that others will now be accepted without having to take the same steps.
Perhaps the workshop leaders of the new workshop to which we would apply will receive our original application. The problem with that, though, is that our original application was created with a particular workshop in mind. So it says little about our expertise on other topics. If I apply for the one on Lincoln's rhetoric, my application about visual rhetoric and performance studies would be irrelevant, yet I might get accepted because space remains. That's all well and good, except I hate the idea of taking a spot from someone who really wants to be there and really tried to be there knowing I didn't try as hard or take as many steps as they had to take.
And this all relates to a bigger issue that I encountered during the tenure process, the need for greater transparency in the application and submission process. For my tenure application, I wrote to all of the editors and workshop leaders with whom I worked asking about the acceptance rates. And I was surprised by how few I heard back from or how vague the information was. One journal that published my work would not give me the acceptance rates at all, and that came up in my tenure review. I had all the emails I sent asking for the information to prove that I wasn't trying to hide anything, but I shouldn't have had to do that.*
Not everyone was like that. The American Society for Bioethics and Humanities actually told me that 33% of proposals were accepted for the conference one year I presented and 50% another year. Other places said that the applicant pool was "competitive" or "very competitive." An essay collection that published my work gave me the number of proposals submitted and accepted. But a lot of places said nothing.
In talking about this with people, we discussed several reasons why. Perhaps some journals, workshops, or conferences are embarrassed that the rates do not sound as competitive as they would like. But 1) it seems like everyone has an ethical responsibility to be upfront and 2) maybe word getting out might help make the rates stronger. If a journal has a 90% acceptance rate, I can think of a lot of junior faculty and graduate students who would send something that way, which would make the process more competitive because submissions would increase. Plus, again, I think we just have an obligation to be honest about the process.
This may sound like sour grapes for not getting accepted into the workshop, but I have been rejected from many things in my life. And I was accepted into the seminar, which really makes me happy. But I've been on the other side, too. I have co-edited a collection of essays and organized panels and workshops. I have sent rejections to many people. But when I've done that, I've been very aware of the golden rule, treating others as I'd want to be treated. In a lot of cases, I was upfront about the number of submissions so people knew that they were not alone in their rejections. Many times, I did offer a line or two about why I rejected them specifically. I can remember asking myself, "What kind of rejection would I want to receive in this case?" And I wrote that kind of rejection. I'm not saying they were perfect, but I am saying that I tried.
Knowing that I was rejected from this workshop and that other people will be accepted without having to submit what I had to submit (which was not a huge amount, I will admit) feels wrong. In that case, I think there should be some reason. Maybe, "You do not have as much experience as we would like participants to have." Or, "You have more experience than we would like participants to have." Or, "We want to get as many people involved in the entire institute as possible. And since you were accepted into the seminar, we did not let you into the workshop" (but then why tell me I could take others?). Or, "You work is in an area of performance studies and rhetoric that we will not be covering." Of course, all of those reasons are a bit invalidated considering that people will be allowed in without having to say anything about their experience or research.
Ah, well. What I have learned from this is that I need to remember the golden rule. When I send rejections, I need to send what I would like to receive, and that means being as transparent as possible. And I will have a great time at the seminar, I'm sure. I love being a student. It's why I'm auditing the class at NYU and applying for all these things constantly.
But I do wish we had greater transparency in general. I think we can only benefit from it, that the resulting discussion would be a good thing. Certainly, though, I welcome other perspectives.
*Yes, I know that there are places online and in print that publish acceptance and rejection rates, but this particular journal was listed in none of them.
With my rejection, though, came a note saying that I could be considered for other workshops that still had openings. The problem is that the workshop to which I applied was on that list. I sent an email asking if there was some mistake, and I received one back saying that it was an error for that workshop to have been listed as an option for me.
My problem is that, to be accepted into another workshop, those of us rejected from workshops just have to send an email back listing the workshop (and alternatives) that we'd like to take. It says nothing about writing a statement or providing any justification for why we want to take that workshop, which is what we had to do in our original application. In other words, I was rejected for the workshop based upon what I had written but other people can be accepted into it without having to write anything.
I'll admit, that irks me. I would have had a better chance of getting in if I'd applied for another one and been rejected from that. And I have not gotten any explanation for why that is. I understand that it's pretty common to get rejected for jobs, from journals, and for other programs and have no reason given. I've had that happen a lot. It just feels odd to be rejected when I submitted a full application knowing that others will now be accepted without having to take the same steps.
Perhaps the workshop leaders of the new workshop to which we would apply will receive our original application. The problem with that, though, is that our original application was created with a particular workshop in mind. So it says little about our expertise on other topics. If I apply for the one on Lincoln's rhetoric, my application about visual rhetoric and performance studies would be irrelevant, yet I might get accepted because space remains. That's all well and good, except I hate the idea of taking a spot from someone who really wants to be there and really tried to be there knowing I didn't try as hard or take as many steps as they had to take.
And this all relates to a bigger issue that I encountered during the tenure process, the need for greater transparency in the application and submission process. For my tenure application, I wrote to all of the editors and workshop leaders with whom I worked asking about the acceptance rates. And I was surprised by how few I heard back from or how vague the information was. One journal that published my work would not give me the acceptance rates at all, and that came up in my tenure review. I had all the emails I sent asking for the information to prove that I wasn't trying to hide anything, but I shouldn't have had to do that.*
Not everyone was like that. The American Society for Bioethics and Humanities actually told me that 33% of proposals were accepted for the conference one year I presented and 50% another year. Other places said that the applicant pool was "competitive" or "very competitive." An essay collection that published my work gave me the number of proposals submitted and accepted. But a lot of places said nothing.
In talking about this with people, we discussed several reasons why. Perhaps some journals, workshops, or conferences are embarrassed that the rates do not sound as competitive as they would like. But 1) it seems like everyone has an ethical responsibility to be upfront and 2) maybe word getting out might help make the rates stronger. If a journal has a 90% acceptance rate, I can think of a lot of junior faculty and graduate students who would send something that way, which would make the process more competitive because submissions would increase. Plus, again, I think we just have an obligation to be honest about the process.
This may sound like sour grapes for not getting accepted into the workshop, but I have been rejected from many things in my life. And I was accepted into the seminar, which really makes me happy. But I've been on the other side, too. I have co-edited a collection of essays and organized panels and workshops. I have sent rejections to many people. But when I've done that, I've been very aware of the golden rule, treating others as I'd want to be treated. In a lot of cases, I was upfront about the number of submissions so people knew that they were not alone in their rejections. Many times, I did offer a line or two about why I rejected them specifically. I can remember asking myself, "What kind of rejection would I want to receive in this case?" And I wrote that kind of rejection. I'm not saying they were perfect, but I am saying that I tried.
Knowing that I was rejected from this workshop and that other people will be accepted without having to submit what I had to submit (which was not a huge amount, I will admit) feels wrong. In that case, I think there should be some reason. Maybe, "You do not have as much experience as we would like participants to have." Or, "You have more experience than we would like participants to have." Or, "We want to get as many people involved in the entire institute as possible. And since you were accepted into the seminar, we did not let you into the workshop" (but then why tell me I could take others?). Or, "You work is in an area of performance studies and rhetoric that we will not be covering." Of course, all of those reasons are a bit invalidated considering that people will be allowed in without having to say anything about their experience or research.
Ah, well. What I have learned from this is that I need to remember the golden rule. When I send rejections, I need to send what I would like to receive, and that means being as transparent as possible. And I will have a great time at the seminar, I'm sure. I love being a student. It's why I'm auditing the class at NYU and applying for all these things constantly.
But I do wish we had greater transparency in general. I think we can only benefit from it, that the resulting discussion would be a good thing. Certainly, though, I welcome other perspectives.
*Yes, I know that there are places online and in print that publish acceptance and rejection rates, but this particular journal was listed in none of them.
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