The Teaching Demonstration: 3 Goals

by Katherine Dugan

Katherine Dugan is an Assistant Professor of Religion at Springfield College in Massachusetts. She earned her PhD in Religious Studies from Northwestern University in 2015 and spent two years on the job market before her current position. She studies contemporary Catholicism in the U.S. while teaching a range of religion courses.

The teaching demonstration part of on-campus interviews is, I think, one of the most awkward parts of these marathon-styled interviews. As candidates, we are charged with showing that we can teach, but have to do so with an unknown set of students, often in a course that is unrelated to what we would actually teach in the position, and do so while members of the faculty making undergraduates in a classroom uncomfortable (and tight-lipped!). All the while, we have to show knowledge in subject area and ability to engage students. The task is daunting!

Regardless of this inherent awkwardness, teaching demonstrations are common parts of on-campus interviews, especially on SLACs and institutions with heavy teaching loads. These institutions tend to be concerned with our ability to communicate effectively with their students. In this post, I want to outline three goals of teaching demonstrations and provide suggestions on how you can meet those goals through your demonstration.

While there are a wide variety of scenarios for teaching demos, they share three main goals.

The first is to see if all of the great words in your teaching statement/philosophy actually apply to the way you teach. Since you’ve landed the on-campus interview, feel confident that the committee likes what you have to say about teaching. They know from your materials that you are competent in the subject and that you know how to talk the talk of current pedagogical trends. But now they need to know if you can actually do it.

You can meet this goal my aligning your documents, interview, and on-campus teaching interview. Plan to demonstrate a piece of your teaching style that you described in the conference/phone/Skype interview or teaching philosophy. From my own experience, I took care to describe my ability to prompt in-class discussion through small groups. I made sure to show that in my demonstrations. If you have promised that you are a rockstar at having students dig into texts, have a short paragraph for them to work on. If you have trumpeted your ability to explain a complex topic clearly, do that.

The second goal of a teaching demonstration is to see how you align with the demographics of their students. Committees want to know that you can relate to what they think of as their very unique student population. If they have a diversity initiative in the forefront of their minds, they want to see you teach to diverse population of students. If faculty feel that the institution caters to pre-professional students, they want to see that you can spark students’ interest in a general education requirement. Committees need to see how you engage with their undergraduate students.

This goal is in the more nebulous character of “fit” in the hiring process. But you can do a lot to de-mystify this as you meet this goal. During your preliminary interview, ask the committee about their students. Pay attention to how some of the faculty describe the student population on campus. Do some research: visit the institution’s website and Facebook pages; watch any videos of students talking about their professors or about their reasons for choosing to attend this school. I once actually found a Youtube video of one of a committee member teaching his own class. Ask any of your peers if they know anything about this institution. Make a list of the characteristics of students and keep it in mind as you design your demonstration. You won’t be able to cater to every possible student, but work to have a feel for the demographics.

The third goal of these teaching demonstrations is for over-worked faculty with a heavy teaching load to determine what kind of colleague you will be. Will you contribute to a dynamic teaching environment or will negative course evaluations be a drag on their department? Will you need a lot of hand-holding to get through the semester or are you a confident and competent new professor?  Will you bring students into your classes or have to scrounge to fill seats? This is the sales pitch part of your teaching demonstration. You want to show the department that you are an asset and that you will make their lives easier. Of course, you will be doing this throughout the on-campus interview, but it is particularly important during the teaching demonstration.

You can meet this goal by take charge of the room when it is handed over to you. The 30-40 minutes you have for this teaching demonstration is not the time to ask permission or appear meek. This is the time for you to provide clear management of the classroom. Practice your presentation until you know it backwards and forwards. Outline your objectives for the class period and write them on the board or include on a powerpoint slide. Give clear instructions for activities you want students to do (provide handouts with concise guidelines). Speak confidently, stand tall, and do not fidget. Lighten the mood with a quick joke or two (not too much; you are a professor, not a goofball). But please do not undercut your classroom authority by laughing at yourself. Try to ignore the observing faculty—they are watching you, not engaging with you. Treat the students like human beings by doing things like asking them to tell you their names and responding to them. These stylistic choices will show that you are prepared to be a partner in the high teaching demands.

While there are certainly additional goals of teaching demonstrations unique to each kind of position and style of demonstration, these three are generalizable. To meet these goals: (1) Show you can do what you say you can do; (2) Demonstrate your fit with the student population; and (3) Take charge of the classroom.

 

Written/Unwritten: Diversity and the Hidden Truths of Tenure – Guest Post

By Patricia Matthew

Patricia Matthew is an associate professor of English at Montclair State University.  She is writing a book about representations of the body and the discourse of disease and illness in Romantic-era fiction. She is the co-editor of a special issue for Romantic Pedagogy Commons (“Novel Prospects: Teaching Romantic-Era Fiction”) and has published essays and reviews in Women’s Writing, Nineteenth-Century Gender Studies, and the Keats-Shelley Journal. She is the editor of Written/Unwritten: Diversity and the Hidden Truths of Tenure (University of North Carolina Press, 2016) and has published essays and books reviews on diversity in higher education in PMLA, The ADE Bulletin, Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, The New Inquiry and The Atlantic.

Find her on Twitter as @triciamatthew and visit the Written/Unwritten Facebook page for more information.

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In my first semester of graduate school, a footnote in my methods book, The Art of Literary Research, cracked me up:

This moment is as appropriate as any to point out that it is a faux pas, no less deplorable than eating peas with a knife, to speak of our professional publications as “magazines.”  Magazines are publications of miscellaneous content for the lay reader: Time and Smithsonian are magazines. The proper generic terms to use is periodicals; if the periodicals are devoted mainly to research, they are journals; if to criticism, reviews. But never “magazines.”

The tone made me laugh, and I imagined the book’s authors as some amalgam of John Houseman in “The Paper Chase” and Emily Post.  The directive also made me feel like an insider because of course I knew the difference between a periodical and a magazine (I had a BA in English, thank you very much).  When I was a new assistant professor and was teaching my own methods course, I would read that footnote to my students and show them the kind of research problems we were asked to solve each week, in the days before ubiquitous internet access, when the MLA bibliography was only in print.  We all laughed, and they got to feel like insiders too.

And then, during my tenure appeal, when I was preparing the case to convince the (now retired) provost to overturn his decision to recommend against tenure, a union representative told me that the problem with my tenure file was that I was using the wrong term to describe my peer-reviewed work.  I’m not sure why I never learned that I was supposed to call what I write for periodicals “articles”, but, according to this union rep, I had committed a rather deplorable faux pas by using the wrong term (“essay”) and was going to lose my job because it. “It makes you sound like as student” she told me, and while I wanted to argue the point on several fronts, it seemed prudent to just change the wording for my appeal. So I went through my tenure narrative and changed “essay” to “article.”

Then I turned my attention to the rest of my appeal, which rested on whether or not my essays/articles needed to be in print to count towards tenure.  Here is how I resolved that. A former colleague heard that the problem with my file was that my articles were not “in print” and was kind enough to send me an email exchange he’d had with a dean confirming that “in print” was not the rule for a publication to count towards tenure. My department personnel committee used that information in their letter urging the provost to grant me tenure.

To be clear, no one was questioning the value of my research or the rate of productivity.  I wasn’t a troublemaker and my teaching was fine.  According to the Provost, even as he was trying to fire me, I’d done what I was supposed to do to get tenure, except for this “in print” criterion no one had told me about, and I didn’t know to ask about.

That and, apparently, not knowing the right labels for my work meant I was about to be out of a job. With the help of people from across my college (I had the support of my department personnel committee, my department chair, and an interim dean), I ended up getting tenure, and in the years since I started doing research on the topic of diversity and tenure for my anthology Written/Unwritten: Diversity and the Hidden Truths of Tenure, I’ve been curious about what I may have missed during my tenure case.

When I asked the Provost point blank why he hadn’t told me “in print” was the standard he told me that if he’d answered that question I would then want to know how many articles I needed.  He knew things were unclear and why they like to keep them that way.

My colleague knew too.  But he had had the foresight to ask the right questions, get clarity about what counted, and then was smart enough to get it in writing.  This was in the early 00s, so we didn’t know that The Professor was In, and I was so busy trying to get my work done I never took the time to learn how to present it.  And no one took the time to help me figure that out.  But he knew.  We were both bright and hardworking, but he had an edge I didn’t.

I’ve wondered about the differences between that colleague and me from time to time. Yes, yes, yes, he is white and male and heterosexual all at the same time, but it’s too simple to reduce his understanding of this process to those things.  One thing he had was successful academics in his extended family and so, I suspect, moved in a world where these processes were topics of regular conversation. Neither of my parents graduated from college, and I still remember explaining to my mother that my thesis was not an eight-page paper but a book-length study.

There were other consequential issues that were probably based in our familial legacies. Although we were friendly when we worked in the same department, we moved in different social worlds.  I quickly cordoned myself off, so I didn’t have the same informal access to strategies and information that he did.  More than this, I simply did not understand that some part of the review process is people making their own experiences and ideas institutional, and if you don’t speak the same language that they do you’re at risk.   The lesson I should have learned while I was chuckling at the image of eating peas with a knife (I mean, seriously, how is that even a possible thing to do) is that part of the work of being untenured is figuring out a few things:

  1.  How to make your accomplishments legible to those who will evaluate you
  2.  How to get your colleagues to help you learn what the institution will seek in your file and the evaluative discourse of your institution
  3.  How to develop and maintain a healthy academic community as far away from your institution as possible so you can understand your experience within some larger context
  4.  Where you are willing to draw the line to succeed at your institution

 

It’s not fair, by the way. These processes are loaded and decided on things that have virtually nothing to do with the quality of a scholar’s work.  I know this not only based on my own experience but on the research I undertook in order to provide a critical and historical context for the narratives in Written/Unwritten.

In public talks about the anthology I’ve said a time or two that whiteness protects mediocrity and have felt the very air in the room shift.  White people narrow their eyes at me while their colleagues of color raise their eyebrows in solidarity.  They all know that the rumpled, scattered, I’m-so-brilliant-I can’t-be-bothered-to learn-how-things-function-persona works well for so many white people—not because they are necessarily better or more productive than their peers but because they have built their careers on the benefit of the doubt.    Faculty of color rarely have that luxury—regardless of how many people assume we skate through the academic world on white liberal guilt.

Of course, you can do the things above and still not get reappointed or get tenure. It’s important to understand how deeply invested people are in not making the process transparent.  It’s not only possible, but highly, likely that I could have asked the same questions as my more strategic colleague and not been given a clear answer or gotten that answer in writing.

There are many reasons for this, but elitism is behind most of it. The feeling is that if you have to ask certain questions about process than you’re probably not qualified for the job in the first place. In a world that claims to care about “groundbreaking” research, innovation, and the new, you’re only allowed to be different in a very narrow way.  For some, the whole point is to only work with people who don’t need to be told not to eat peas with a knife.  I think that’s why number 4 above is so important.  You need to carefully (and with guidance) draw those lines for yourself.  One way to measure that is to see how many colleagues around you are willing to share what they know to help you out.  If no one is reaching out to you to see if you feel prepared for your personnel reviews, you need to pay attention to that, and if no one seems willing to give you concrete answers to reasonable questions like what counts towards tenure, you need to note that too.

 

Sick and Contingent: A Guest Post on Illness in the Academy

A guest post by a writer who wishes to remain anonymous.

~~~~~

Watching congress begin the process of repealing the Affordable Care Act this week forced me to finally share a detailed narrative about my experience with our health care system. I wrote the piece many months ago, after leaving my last job, to share with job seekers some “lowlights” of managing life with chronic disease while attempting to finish the PhD and then to hold down contingent faculty positions while also maintaining a long-distance relationship. Some of the challenges that I describe are endemic to our health care system and some to higher education. The essay was meant to highlight the intersection of these systems and how it can hurt individuals who lack job security.

Full disclosure: I have never been covered under ACA. However, one does not need to have Obamacare to be affected by it. ACA guarantees important benefits and protections to people with private plans. My friends and family members are covered by Obamacare, Medicare and Medicaid. Moreover, as you will see from my account, I have gone for periods of time without any coverage and have suffered the consequences. I am also intimately familiar with the chaos of dealing with our insurance systems and, while whole-heartedly supporting a single-payer system, can confidently say that poorly managed and expensive coverage plans are better than no plans.

In my third year of graduate school I was diagnosed with Lupus. Like others who discovered they had  a chronic illness during their graduate studies, I had to learn how to navigate my academic career and my healthcare. I was still in the writing phase of my dissertation when my partner, also an academic, accepted a full-time lecturer position in another location. Because we were in a committed relationship and I was familiar with the area, I decided to move with him. The relocation required me to take a leave of absence from my university, which also meant that I had to pay for my insurance plan out of pocket and be subject to out-of-network fees. Moreover, I could only keep the plan for a short period of time. We looked into getting a local plan or coverage through his university. This was before Obamacare. The former option was unaffordable because I had a pre-existing condition. The latter option was unavailable to us because we were not legally married. As a result, I let my coverage lapse. I just stopped seeing doctors and started to ration my medications.

My partner and I were so focused on establishing our academic careers that my, and his, health stopped being a priority. After MLA interviews, I experienced a flare. At first, I ignored it because I thought that I was simply “run down” by the job search. Soon enough I began to have trouble breathing and ended up in the emergency room without health insurance. It turned out that I had inflammation in my lungs. I spent much of my visit crying because I feared not for my well-being but future medical bills and the impact of the flare on my dissertation writing schedule. Fortunately, I went to a county hospital and was able to receive retroactive health coverage available to the local low-income population. To avoid using the ER as health care in the future, my partner and I decided to get married, despite our criticisms of marriage and the connection between marriage, employment and benefits. Our marriage very quickly became a long-distance marriage.

While I was still recovering from my flare I accepted a VAP position at a university in the Midwest. This was my first job and I was happy to have secured employment just before defending my dissertation. I was also excited about exploring a different part of the country while making the transition from graduate student to faculty member. I was still experiencing symptoms and my blood-work caused my doctors concern. However, I was determined to make the cross-country move in hopes that my position would lead to permanent employment. Very soon after my arrival in the new city, I learned that there was no hope of my position becoming tenure-track. In fact, during my second year of the position, the system to which the university belonged would lose tenure altogether. But, at that moment, I had no knowledge of this and simply focused on being “discreet” and “appropriate.” I was also profoundly influenced by the “keep your cards close to your chest” mentality of the job market. This is what I told myself: “Don’t tell them about your partner. Certainly don’t tell them about your disease. Basically, don’t show that you are a human being living in a capitalist economy where health care is big business and disability = incompetence. Not until you get that tenure-track offer in hand, maybe not even until you get tenure.”

During my two years in the Midwest I made a lot of good friends. Only a few of those people know that I was struggling with health problems almost the entire time that I was there. Why did I reveal my condition to some of them? Because on a couple of occasions I needed practical assistance with my health care, such as transportation to the ER or doctors’ appointments. Otherwise, the secrecy quietly ate away at me, but I still saw it as completely normal. The fact that I did not tell the majority of my friends speaks to some aspects of academic culture that I had internalized. As a junior scholar and contingent faculty member, I felt that my problems were not as important as those of my senior colleagues. The most important problems in academia have to do with research, money and politics. My senior colleagues were already burdened with these problems; I saw them as being stretched thin by their commitments to the university and the field as well as their own challenges of balancing work and life, which for some also included long-distance relationships. Disclosing to these overworked people my health issues, which I wrongfully saw as being deeply personal and not systemic, seemed unprofessional. And, of course, I didn’t want them to see me as a liability or wonder if I was doing my job adequately. In hindsight, I see this as an uncharitable view of my colleagues. But at the time I did not expect the kindness that they would show me. Those who learned of my illness offered to bring me food and go with me to my appointments. A senior colleague fought hard on more than one occasion to extend my position, not knowing anything about my health-related hardships.

Here comes the truly messed up aspect of my attitude during my two VAP positions. A part of me thought that I deserved what was happening to me, drawing illogical connections between what I perceived to be my physical weakness and my weakness as a scholar. Yes, my disease made it harder for me to be a good academic, but wasn’t it also the case that if I had been a better academic, I would not be in the awful position of dealing with disease as a contingent faculty member? If I had finished the top program in my field, published more, networked better, I would be in a tenure-track job, with a lighter teaching load, more job security and a sense of being of value to an institution. This was a vicious cycle that always led to self-blame. Most universities say that community is one of their core values. However, this value is often seriously compromised by academia’s pressure on the faculty to be productive. We, especially in the humanities, where collaboration is discouraged, are supposed to be self-directed and self-reliant; our able-bodiedness is assumed. As a result, we get to take sole credit for our successes or our failures at being cutting-edge or prolific. Managing my chronic illness while teaching 5 days per week made it very difficult for me to maintain a productive research program. But this was my disease, my problem, my fault. At least that’s how I saw things.

In addition to the emotional worries, I dealt with the practical disadvantages that come with temporary employment and long-distance relationships. When I first arrived in the Midwest I found myself once again without health insurance, though thankfully for a limited period of time. The insurance provided by the university kicked in after the start of classes. However, I had to come to town well before that to move into my new apartment and get to know my new workplace. After the insurance became active, I still had no idea how to use it. I was new to the PPO system and had no actual information about my plan (not even my ID number) for about a month because the university took so long to process the benefits of new and contingent faculty. A month doesn’t sound like long, but with a chronic illness, it can be damaging. That’s how I ended up in the emergency room without proof of insurance or knowledge about whether the hospital was in my network.

One of the difficulties of having a chronic illness and changing jobs and locations is “starting up” – finding new doctors, locating the nearest urgent care and ER facility, learning about the insurance plan, transferring  medical records. Because I was in a long-distance relationship, I had the added hardship of working in one part of the country and then spending summer and winter breaks in a different part of the country. For winter breaks, when I actually had a flexible schedule, I avoided going to the doctor to avoid out-of-network fees. For summers, I would transfer to my partner’s insurance. We did this several times. I had doctors back home and in the Midwest and they did not communicate effectively. When one would fax over medical records, the other wouldn’t receive them. Somehow this happened almost every time.

I was exhausted and demoralized by the end of my two years in the Midwest – exhausted because I developed another chronic condition that I could not successfully manage, and demoralized because I saw the university’s tenure system come under attack from its government. I desperately wanted to return home, but I didn’t. Instead, I accepted another visiting position. This was not an easy decision. I spent a full week thinking it over, consulting with my partner and doing a lot of crying. Why did I accept this position? My contract in the Midwest could no longer be renewed and I was terrified of not having a salary and being out of academia. I also did not yet have a diagnosis for my new condition, only a set of symptoms that I hoped would go away.

VAP job #2 created even more distance between me, my partner, my family and my dog. This time, I would move to the East Coast to start work at a small liberal arts college. I approached my new job once again determined to be stoic about my “personal struggles.” Once again I had a delusional sense of stakes about my professional future. Maybe this time, I would find myself in a position that would turn tenure-track. I better not risk the opportunity by showing my weakness. But soon my biggest desire would be to go home and curl into a ball in a quiet corner. A few factors contributed to this situation. I was having a difficult time managing my new gastrointestinal illness, which required a diet (low fat and low fiber, which…good luck with that…). I did not have a car, which made grocery shopping complicated in a pedestrian-unfriendly environment, and I simply did not make eating appropriately a priority. My priority was once again: ACADEMIA, so I did not take care of myself, and suffered, and felt guilty about not taking care of myself.

Then, shortly after my arrival, I became plagued by a completely unexpected problem. I received countless medical bills for treatments that I had undergone during my previous job. I had left the Midwest, but the Midwest wouldn’t leave me. Somehow the insurance company decided that I had other coverage during the time of these services (I did not) and retroactively denied their responsibility. I found myself trapped in a Kafkaesque nightmare of letters and phone-calls. The whole thing was a misunderstanding but it took me the length of an academic year to prove that the insurance company was in the wrong. In the meantime, I struggled to take care of my new health problem and “start up” with my new insurance plan in a new place. This plan had its own rules about what it would and would not cover and I found myself simultaneously making phone-calls to this insurance company in the hopes of understanding why one blood test was not approved while all of the other blood tests on the same standard Lupus panel were. The battle continued after I left the East Coast, when I had to deal with the company’s decision to retroactively deny me coverage for a medical procedure I underwent during my first week of classes. Just like the Midwest wouldn’t leave me on the East Coast, the East Coast won’t leave me in on the West Coast (where I currently reside). However, at the time, I was mostly disappointed to realize that my new plan had a deductible and that, in fact, I needed to pay two deductibles (actually 4; there were separate deductibles for treatment and drugs), because the academic year does not line up with the insurance company’s (standard) calendar year. This is another way in which 1-year faculty members are at a disadvantage.

My Lupus was under control but the medical bills and gastrointestinal problems rattled me on a daily basis. My partner and I were teaching five days per week and, as a result, went months without seeing each other. I also had a hard time forming a support network at the college, in part, because it was much smaller than my previous institution. I feared that opening up to people would lead to rumors and that my colleagues wouldn’t trust me to do my job. The truth of the matter was that the people who learned of my condition were extremely supportive. A couple of my colleagues became true friends to whom I could open up without fear of judgement. They also gave me practical and emotional support and bettered my life by infusing it with some lightness and humor. Still I couldn’t shake my sense of isolation and vulnerability. I stopped trusting myself to “show up” to social events and to my job, even as I successfully (I think) kept up the appearance of wellbeing. I began to have panic attacks before and  while teaching. I also, for the first time in my life, experienced what would soon be diagnosed as major depressive disorder. I didn’t think that I would last the year. In fact, I seriously considered quitting after the fall, but did not go through with it. Instead I began to see a therapist, for the first time since joining academia, and learned some coping strategies for my physical and psychological symptoms. Also, in the spring, one of my courses was canceled. Normally I would be distressed about this. But this time, I was thankful. With a lighter teaching load, I had more time for my doctor’s appointments, my research and even a little time for rest. And, of course, the knowledge that I would get to return to the West Coast helped me see the finish line.

My position was renewed and I was offered the opportunity to continue, but, for the first time in my life, I turned down a job. Despite all of the above, this was an extremely difficult decision, which entailed the risk of never teaching again. To reiterate, a certain degree of privilege allowed me to make this decision. I had a supportive partner, a place to return to, prospects of alt-ac employment and access to health insurance through my partner’s employer. If my partner were to lose his position now or if we were to separate, I would once again be without health insurance. So long as this country ties coverage to employment it continues to treat healthcare as a privilege and not a human right. ACA is broken system that needs to be fixed, not repealed. It may not be the safety net that we want, but it’s one that we desperately need at this moment.

New Year, New Plan – Postac Post by Karen Cardozo

by Out-Ac Coach Karen Cardozo

Karen Cardozo

It’s that mid-hiring cycle season when academic job seekers are in limbo, and thus a good time to preach my both/and gospel once again: unless you are in the rare discipline for which it’s a seller’s market, you should pursue BOTH academic jobs AND alternatives as a matter of course. Especially now, as we face 4 years of unprecedented and unpredictable mayhem in the U.S. political sphere that is likely to impact higher ed negatively.

However, the primary reason to keep your options open isn’t job scarcity (although that’s reason enough).  Rather, exploring organizations of genuine interest across sectors should be a lifelong career exploration process – one that doesn’t assume that academe is your one soul mate and that you’ll never find true love again.  Don’t wait to find out IF you got an academic job to a) ask whether you still want an academic career and, regardless of your answer, b) explore alternatives.  How can you know you are really “choosing” academe if you don’t have any other options to choose from?

It’s time to unsubscribe from the faulty sequential logic of first pursuing Plan A (academic career), and then Plan B (backup).  To riff off the latter’s association with emergency contraception, many graduate students or postdocs are engaging in risky or unprotected professional behavior by putting all their eggs in the academic basket, and regular methods of professional development often fail when most graduate schools don’t encourage you to explore alternative careers.

At this historic juncture, both the research literature on the new world of work and my ongoing coaching experience reinforce the wisdom of adopting a new Plan A:  Authentic career development. Actively pursued, this approach requires no Plan B, ever.  If you consistently take your own inventory and explore fitting opportunities across BOTH academic AND other sectors, you can kiss the discourses of emergency, and scarcity goodbye.  You will have choices. And you will go from feeling like a victim to being an agent in your own right.

I am living proof: my current tenure track job is the ONLY one I applied to during a 2-year span, and that was after I had quit adjuncting to take a new Alt-Ac position!  In this and prior instances, I engaged in a selective search across sectors, applying when I felt affinity for a job description or organization.  As a result, the cover letters I write (and teach my clients to write) are genuinely enthusiastic, informed, and customized to convey that sense of fit.  While this emphasis on authenticity and willingness to switch fields may not make for a linear career path, it is what today’s shifting employment landscape requires. More importantly, it yields a series of genuine jobs.

So as a New Year’s resolution, why not let go of the academic fiction of a permanent one-way “track” and instead, make like a frog in a peaceful pond.  All you need to do is take the next leap. From there, other lily pads come into view, each one bringing you closer to a potentially more welcoming shore.

There’s another benefit to being authentic and selective rather than merely desperate: it adds a certain je ne sais quois to your interactions on the market. It’s pheromonal – just as sharks smell blood in the water, interviewers catch the scent of your calm confidence that you ARE worthy and that you DO have options. But you can’t convey that impression if you’ve done nothing to cultivate any other options!

So don’t wait until it becomes apparent that you need to activate Plan B on an emergency basis. Starting now, replace your tired old Plan A with a new Plan A – a commitment to authentic career exploration across sectors—and watch a host of unpredictable yet appealing options arise.  You can start with a free 20 minute consultation with one of TPII’s Alt/Out-Ac  experts; no premature commitments or decisions required. We are just another lily pad within reach should you choose to embrace your new plan.

How to Present Effectively

A few weeks ago I had the marvelous good fortune to participate in the Legacy Heritage workshop, a professional development workshop for a select group of Ph.D. students sponsored by the Association for Jewish Studies, and held immediately following the AJS annual conference, this year in San Diego.  The theme of this year’s workshop was “Public Presentations”, and the 4 invited speakers (along with the wonderful organizer Rona Sheramy, assisted by Amy Weiss) led a day-long series of talks on the best practices of public presentation of scholarship, a particularly important topic for those who work in Jewish Studies, as they are frequently invited to speak at synagogues and other non-academic or semi-academic locations.

The event was wonderful–warm, supportive, collegial, and filled with humor (and excellent food!).  I remarked to the organizers later that I would have loved to have had an opportunity to attend something like this when I was a grad student. I urge any faculty members reading this to consider organizing a day-long event on professional skills for the Ph.D. students in your charge.

Anyway, my task was to talk about the physical and performative aspects of presenting – issues of speech habits, body language, managing space, and handling Q and A.  This was the first time I’d ever been asked to speak on this subject, and I was at first worried that I wouldn’t have enough to say.

But as soon as I began writing down my thoughts, I could hardly stop.  It turns out, there is almost endless amount of things to be said about good presentation practices.  Eventually, given my time limit, I whittled my primary thoughts down to six slides, which I labeled “Practices of Good Delivery, I-VI.”  These covered Preparation, Connection, Body Language, Speaking Mode, Visuals, and Handling Questions.

In today’s post, I’ll share my talking points on the subject of Speaking Mode:

First, breathe deep into your body, and speak from deep in your diaphragm.  Most of us talk from our throats, even more so when we’re nervous.  But our voices get tense, high and thready when we do, and this isn’t good presentation practice.  So job number one is to discipline the source of your speaking voice, making it richer, and lower in tone.

Second, SLOW DOWN.  The near-universal pitfall for inexperienced speakers is speaking too fast.  It is an inevitable byproduct of nerves, and also of Imposter Syndrome, where you secretly worry or believe that your material is dull and obvious, and unconsciously minimize it through a muttered, indistinct, too quick delivery.   Your material is good, and it deserves a slow and authoritative presentation.

How to do this? Imagine a person of authority – Toni Morrison, perhaps – and channel her voice.  You will be amazed at the instantaneous change in your delivery.  It doesn’t matter who your muse is – he or she can be famous, or just an impressive professor you once had – but model your delivery on theirs, and begin to learn to how feel that authority and poise in your own body.

Beyond this, practice conscious rhythm and pacing.  Pacing is essential to effective delivery, and you must pause for effect and/or modulate your voice to emphasize important points. Pacing and rhythm are your cues to the audience to attend to the development of your argument, and to track the progress of your organization toward a conclusion. Feel free to write notes to yourself in your written material to “pause,” “gesture,” “make extemporaneous comment,” or “look around room.”  Master the dramatic pause. It is your friend.

Interested to learn more about Presentation Techniques?  Please come to my webinar, Hacking the Academic Presentation, Jan 19 at 6 PM EST.  I will share everything I spoke on at the Legacy Heritage workshop, with much more focused specifically on the most high-stakes presentation of all: the Job Talk.  As I remarked at the workshop, without a tenure track job, it’s much harder to get opportunities to speak publicly even in a non-academic context.  The job talk continues to be one of the most critical gatekeeping mechanisms, yet rarely are the job talk presentation best practices taught. Please join me!

(And don’t forget this week is the Negotiating Your Tenure Track Job webinar on Thursday 1/12 at 6 PM EST!)

Find webinars here.  All are $50.  Everybody gets access to a recording of the event, even if you can’t attend the live event.

How Can I Help? Interviews, Campus Visits, and Negotiating edition

I have a lot on my mind right now regarding the impact of Trump on academic life.  Kellee and I ran a free Academic Life Under Trump webinar a couple days ago, and it was good to open space for a conversation about the anxieties and uncertainties and fears this unthinkable situation ahs engendered. I am working up to a blog post on it, but not yet.  It’s still too much; I’m not at the state of coherence yet. I am at the state of resistance, however: I’ve done every form of resistance I can find, including protesting at the Oregon state capitol today, and calling representatives almost daily (about each new outrage). I urge all of you to do what you can: we must resist, and never normalize.

For now, though…

Occasionally I use the weekly blog post to tell you about services and events.  Today is that day for 2016, as we transition from the season of initial review, into the season of interviews, campus visits, and negotiating.

I’m excited to announce an upcoming:

*Live Job Market Twitter chat

My first Twitter chat, on Interviewing, will be January 3 at 11 AM EST.  Use the hashtag #TPIICHAT for live Twitter Q and A on anything you want to know about interviews and campus visits.  Find me at @professorisin

I continue to offer all my regular help for this stage of the job market.  The Interview Intervention, Campus Visit, and Negotiating Webinars ($50) are very helpful; these are offered live on an ongoing basis; we just finished a Winter Webinar Blast, but never fear, they will come again from early January.  The first one is Kellee Weinhold’s Winter Productivity Kickstart and Strategy Session on January 2 at 3 PM EST.

Check this Webinars page for currently scheduled dates. They are also always available in recorded version here at The Prof Shop.

I also edit Job Talks. And wow, do they need it.  As Kellee told last week’s Job Talk Webinar folks, next to cover letters, Job Talks are the genre of client writing that needs the most intensive intervention.  I know that seems unlikely—after all, don’t we all know how to give a research talk by the end of our doctoral studies?  Well, turns out, no, we don’t, not when it’s in the context of a campus visit, for an audience who has never heard your research before.   The Job Talk is a tricky, tricky genre that has to combine an accessible and relatively simple opening with a sophisticated argument, a perfect balance of examples and analysis, and a fine command of pacing, tone, and visuals.  Job Talks are 2 hours of work for two drafts of edits, at $150/hour.  If on a rush basis, a special reduced rush fee of $100 is added.

Any time, you can schedule a live Interview Intervention and/or Job Talk Strategy Session. These are both 50-minute Skype appointments with TPII colleague Kellee Weinhold, who specializes in communications and presentation. (Read more about Kellee here). The former is an intensive mock-interview,  the latter is a practice Job Talk.  The cost for each is $250.

For the Interview Intervention, Kellee takes you through a set of 6 basic interview questions (several of these are described in my blog post, The #Facepalm Fails of the Academic Interview) in a mock interview, stopping after each question to evaluate every answer for its strengths and weaknesses in terms of brevity, spin, word choice, tone, body language, etc., and refining it for effectiveness.  For some basic questions, you may repeat your response 2-3 times until perfect.  It’s grueling, but very effective.   Read some of the testimonials on the Testimonials page to learn more.

For the Job Talk Strategy Session you two plan out your Job Talk, focusing on an organization for the most important sections–the opening, the meat of the research, and the contribution/conclusion.  Kellee helps you to match your content to the job at hand, and provides an evaluation of your organization, approach, balance of theory and data, wording, body language, speech patterns, effectiveness of visuals, etc., with particular attention to the effectiveness of the talk for the particular job.

Both kinds of Skype Interventions are currently scheduled through an on-line calendar: Please go here to schedule.  (If you don’t see a time that works, email Kellee at tpiiintervention@gmail.com to inquire).

Last, should you score that coveted tenure track offer, I offer Negotiating Assistance. Negotiating Assistance is $500/first week ($600 tenured/senior rate), and a week is virtually always sufficient (it goes down to $400, and then $300 for subsequent weeks in the extremely rare event that this is necessary).  I count the week as 7 days of work, and they don’t have to be sequential.  We can start immediately, and I make myself available by email and gchat for the quick turnaround of responses required by most negotiations.  While I technically don’t work on weekends and holidays, for NA clients only I check in to keep up with and respond to urgent updates. I assist you in evaluating the offer, clarifying your requests, crafting email and verbal communications, interpreting responses, and knowing how hard to push and when to stop. Most clients increase their offer by thousands of dollars in salary, research support, travel support, moving expenses, etc.

For a client perspective, I will share a few recent testimonials:

Assistant professor R1 Social Sciences: I increased my offer by $12,000 conservatively. Another major benefit was that I was confident I wasn’t asking for anything crazy, and I wasn’t missing anything obvious. Since this was my first go-around with a U.S. job offer I would have been much more uncertain about it, particularly in my situation where my advisor was unavailable due to a medical condition. Particularly when I had done the interviews and was waiting for an offer, which is a tense time, the fact that I had this service helped make that easier.”

Associate professor with tenure, R1, Humanities:   “As a mid-career academic in the humanities, I knew exactly how important it would be to negotiate good terms for my new position. Karen provided me with: concrete examples of things I could negotiate for; a sounding board for my requests; assistance in clarifying and rewriting my negotiation emails; and overall, tremendous peace of mind in what would otherwise have been an extremely stressful process. I successfully negotiated increases in my salary, start up package, and travel support, totalling 11K. I highly recommend her negotiation assistance services, no matter what career stage you’re in.”

Assistant professor, SLAC, Social Sciences:  “When I got the job offer, I was so terrified to negotiate, specifically for the delayed start date.  I felt a bit lost, and then I went to a yoga class and on the wall was a quotation from Cheryl Strayed which said, ‘The best thing you can possibly do with your life is to tackle the motherfucking shit out of it.’  It was at that time, I knew I should contact you and just get one-to-one help with the negotiation so that I could advocate the best I could for myself without worrying about taking up someone’s time or unsettling a relationship, but also not sabotage myself.  I am glad I reached out, because I think I may not have represented myself as well otherwise.  Thanks for your time, Karen.  I look forward to FINALLY becoming an adult after so many years of training….to earning a good salary, to having a retirement plan, to moving to a place where I could really build a home and a life without a foreseeable expiration date.  Thanks for being one of the people who helped me get to this point.”

Assistant professor, Regional Teaching College, Music: “This morning I officially accepted a tenure track job offer from a regional institution in the southeast. Karen’s negotiating assistance helped me see which of my “wants” were an appropriate ask for a regional institution. She helped me find the proper tone to ask for these things, and she also found some things in my “want” list that might be questioned as uninformed or insulting from the department’s point of view. With TPII’s assistance, I was able to obtain a 6% salary raise, double my moving assistance, and clarify exactly how to obtain $10,000 in start up funds for my line. For a regional academic position in the arts, particularly in the southeast, this type of package is almost unheard of.”

Well, that’s it!  I hope you’re finding success in your searches so far this year.  Best of luck, and get in touch if I can help.  And no matter what, do let me know how things go for you. I love to hear from clients and readers about their interviews, campus visits and overall feelings about being on the market and the whole academic career track in these challenging times.

 

 

Why Your Job Talk Sucks

by Kellee Weinhold, TPII coach and master of our live Skype Job Talk Strategy sessions.

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It is that time of year again. The job applications of August and September are resulting in campus visits in November, which for the Professor is In means a significant uptick in Job Talk Interventions.

It also means a significant uptick in frustration, angst and despair for both clients and me. There is nothing quite so disheartening as pouring hours into a job talk and having someone tell you in no uncertain terms that it is a failure.

And, “frustrated” does not begin to cover my response, as a person devoted to effective communication, to daily evidence of how thoroughly departments fail to prepare grad students in the basics of communicating their research.

IN FACT, because the vast majority of Job Talk Interventions have resulted in massive overhauls, we no longer offer the Job Talk Intervention, and have instead replaced it with a Job Talk Strategy Session, designed to walk you through resolving these key points, for YOUR research, so that you can avoid writing an egregious and totally non-viable first version, and move straight to an effective editable, presentable draft.  (By the way, Karen and her team also edit job talks.  Ask her about that at gettenure@gmail.com).

So, in the long tradition of the Professor is In tough love, here is why your job talk sucks and how to fix it.

  1. Your talk does not address the job ad.
  • Virtually all job calls include something like:
    • “We are especially interested in candidates who use quantitative and mixed methods, and regularly work with the analysis of large complex datasets.”
    • “We are looking for a scholar who has expertise in one or more of the following areas: i) global/transnational XX;  ii) The state/public policy/social regulation; iii) race diversity/immigration”

If have been invited to campus for Job #1 and you do not present a job talk that includes mixed method and large data sets, you have written the wrong job talk. It is also very unlikely that you will get the job.

If you have been invited to campus for Job #2 and your talk does not include a global perspective, you have missed the mark. Of course, it also needs to look at either ii) or iii) but the global/transnational approach has been placed front and center. That means you need to do the same.

 

2. Your talk is too broad.

  • The job talk should provide a window into your larger intellectual enterprise. Think of it in cooking terms; it’s an amusebouche. A small taste of what you do. One that reveals everything about your talent and potential but doesn’t leave the audience in a food coma. And just to be clear, we are not talking those weird overly precious plate constructions. Think sophisticated BUT manageable and accessible. To repeat: Make one basic point, supported with theory and/or evidence. ONE POINT.

 

3.  You overcompensate:

  • You forgot that your research focus and expertise have already done the work of getting you to the campus visit. Instead, you go into the experience thinking you have to justify what you do and to prove the value of both. In my experience that means that you will front load your talk with waaaaaaaay too much information about why your project matters, what theories and research informed it, and worst of all, the journey of how you came to the project i.e. your “interests.”
  • Here is the hard truth: No one actually cares about what interests you. They care about how you and your work are in conversation with them. That’s why the job talk exists. To allow you to further explain what you are doing and show how you engage with the people around you. So, rein in your narrative of self-discovery and provide a clear and compelling snapshot of your research that reveals your maturity, flexibility, and teaching abilities.

 

4.  You argue your case before you make your case:

  • Session after session with clients, I hear them leap into their argument without setting up any groundwork. Just, “Hi. This is what I think.” Jumping directly to your argument can be read in one of two ways: desperate or arrogant. To avoid evoking either response, walk the audience through your methods and results BEFORE you make the argument that answers the question you are taking up in the talk. You are answering a question, right?

 

5.  You forget that not everyone knows what you know:

  • In fact, no one does. Just because you’ve spent a decade on this stuff doesn’t mean the audience know the first thing about it. So, think about what an advanced undergraduate would need to know before he or she could understand the approach and analysis that will follow. This is the who, what, when, where, and why.

 

6. You give up too much real estate to other people’s ideas:

  • While you absolutely need to situate yourself in the existing research, you do not need to explain anything and everything that others have done. The tendency, especially if your talk is based on an article, is to descend into a lit review. Remember, the talk is about your work. Cite only a few sources, noting the question/gap that you are addressing and move on to your own work.

 

7. You forget to answer the question:

  • So you set up this entire talk that is designed to answer the question(s) to make one basic point. Then you proceed to answer something entirely different. Many of you reading this will dismiss this with a wave, “I’m not doing that!” Trust me. I see it more often than not. Look at your question. Look at your results. Make sure the results that you got from your method/approach actually address the question you are engaging. And make sure that the discussion of those results is aimed at your field. Raise the level of complexity.

 

8.  You collapse at the Q&A:

  • The truth is that very strong candidacies are lost at the Q&A. They are lost because this is the main place in the talk where you reveal your collegiality (and confidence). Or you join the host of candidates who routinely crumble in the face of questions, which they perceive as at best, challenges or at worst, attacks. You must learn the art of responding to challenges. I suggest that clients think of the Q&A as being in an improve performance. The number one rule of improv is to accept whatever the audience or your fellow performers throws in your direction. So instead of allowing the screaming fear in your head to take over, pause and listen. Locate the point of entry for you to take up rather than resist the question.

 

9. Your Power Point works against you:

  • The mistakes are legion: You make it about the Powerpoint, using every bell, whistle and sparkle the program has to offer. (Focus on the message.) You use too much text. (Any text should be a headline not a paragraph.) You use small text. (Project it before you go. Stand at the back of the room. If you can’t read it, your audience won’t be able to either.) Your image use is ineffective: Whole screen images with no context. Multiple tiny images with too much going on. Illegible graphs shoved into too small a space. (Again, look at it from the audience perspective BEFORE you go). You don’t proofread. (I assume you know the solution for this?) You read the slides. (Stop it. Just stop. We can read.)

 

If you can correct these content issues and deliver your talk with formal phrasing, emphatic delivery (including a strong falling tone) with no hedging or self-sabotage, you will far surpass almost everyone on the market.

Read more about job talks here and here.

 

What Now?

A reader wrote to ask for my views on what the Trump win means for academia, academic hiring in particular.  I’ll be honest. I’m so shattered by this win (I was all-in for Hillary and as many of you know used my Professor Is In platform to fight for her campaign), and so devastated by the explosion of attacks on people of color, Muslims, and LGBT people in subsequent days, and so frightened by what the Republican dominated government means for myself as a Jewish queer woman, for my biracial children, for my conspicuously butch partner, and for all people and the planet, that I can’t even sleep normally, or eat normally, or think clearly. I’m in no position to make prognostications.

But I told the reader I would write something, so I will, even at the risk of stating the obvious.  I think his win is catastrophic for higher ed in every possible respect. Because words are failing me so thoroughly (although I find myself edified by this analysis) I will limit myself to a bullet point list of outcomes I see as already happening or likely to occur. I hope I can write more eloquently in the future.  Please feel free to add your thoughts in the comments, as I’m sure that I’m only grasping limited ways that this will likely play out.

  • Open, vicious, terrifying attacks on and threats against students of color, and their campus groups and organizations that exceeding the ability of bumbling campus police/security to control.
  • Open, vicious, terrifying attacks on and threats against women students and their campus groups and organizations
  • Open, vicious, terrifying attacks on and threats against queer students and their campus groups and organizations
  • Open, vicious, terrifying attacks on and threats against Muslim students and their campus groups and organizations
  • Open, vicious, terrifying attacks on and threats against Jewish students and their campus groups and organizations, and swastika graffiti
  • Emboldened Republican governors and legislatures accelerating the defunding of state higher ed budgets
  • The systematic defunding and dismantling of federal support for research, including the National Endowment for the Humanities, National Endowment for the Arts, National Science Foundation, and so on.
  • Chilled environment for debate and argument, especially combined with campus carry.
  • An explosion of guns on campus, from an even more energized NRA.
  • A further decline in tenure-line hiring as universities and colleges absorb these other cuts to funding.
  • A more complete embrace of the corporatization of higher ed
  • Threats to or dismantling of affirmative action.
  • Increased surveillance of faculty speech and social media posting, with more open retaliation.
  • Decreased enrollment of first generation and poc students due to a further decline in K-12 education, Head Start, and other preparatory and/or remedial programs.
  • This list can go on but I’ve run out of steam. Please add in comments below.

Here is a widely shared Facebook status update by Michael Berube, from November 9. I think it captures the moment as well as anything.

“I believe I am supposed to be in Salt Lake City today through Sunday for the National Humanities Conference, hosted by the National Humanities Alliance. I woke up this morning at 5 am for a 6:30 flight, got the news I was afraid to get, and promptly cancelled my hotel. I will eat the airfare. I wrote a brief email to all the people I was planning to meet.

We have just lost the Supreme Court, and with it, abortion rights, gay marriage, the Affordable Care Act, what remains of the Voting Rights Act, and any hope of fair redistricting. We have lost the tiny glimmer of hope that came out of the Paris accord. We have lost the treaty with Iran. Mike Pence and Paul Ryan have carte blanche to do everything on their very long to-do lists. I have to say I do not see much point in talking about the future of the humanities right now, least of all with the NHA, since there will be no National Endowment for the Humanities by this time next year. My apologies to all the people who are making the trip to Salt Lake City anyway, and I wish them safe travels.

And we have elected to the Presidency an actual real live fascist pig, all because I stepped on that one butterfly in the Cretaceous. I am sorry, everyone. Take care of yourselves and your loved ones as best you can.”

I also believe, of course, that the election will also result in a newly energized opposition and activism from students of color, women, and other marginalized groups and their allies. What the outcome of that will be, I don’t know. I do know that I have been to two rallies in two days on the University of Oregon campus. Yesterday the Black Student Union and other groups organized a rally in response to a blackface incident, and a horrific racist threat against one of the women who reported the incident. It was heartwrenching and inspiring. A lot of people, including white people, came, but not nearly as many as should have.

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I urge all of you reading this to reach out to your people, especially to people of color, queer people, Muslims, and other vulnerable people you know to check on them and offer your support. Commit to activism to defend your values. Speak out bluntly and clearly in the face of bigotry in your family and friend circle. Commit to defend those who are under attack when you are out in public, and show this publicly by wearing a safety pin whenever you leave the house.

We are in a true crisis, and we must do more than talk about it and study it.  We have to act.

 

My Dissertation on X Examines X

One of the writing problems that stands out the most in this Fall’s job documents is the “painful repetition” problem.

This is when someone writes, “My dissertation, ‘A Study of Elephants,’ is a study of elephants.”

Here are some more:

“I have written a feminist poetry anthology: Waves: A Feminist Poetry Anthology”

“My article, ‘The Novels of Thomas Mann,’ looks at the novels written by Thomas Mann.”

This applies even when you slightly alter the form or order of the words, as in:

“My dissertation, ‘Nations Unbound: Transnationalism and mobility in a globalized age’ is a study of transnational and mobility an age of globalization, when nations are no longer bound by borders.”

What an enormous waste of your most precious job document real estate!  Every word of a job document should introduce fresh new material that advances your case. Repeating the same idea twice squanders that chance.

It’s even worse when you keep doing it, over and over, as some writers do.  Ie,

“My dissertation, ‘Nations Unbound: Transnationalism and mobility in a globalized age’ is a study of transnational and mobility an age of globalization, when nations are no longer bound by borders. I show how globalized populations increasingly cross national boundaries. Looking at border-crossing mobility in this way, I advance the study of transnationalism.”

Please don’t do this. A sure sign of this is simple word repetition (read more on that in this post).  But check further for idea-repetition as well, since just substituting synonyms does not fix it. So don’t think the thesaurus app is going to save you. It isn’t. Word- and idea-repetition is just lazy writing, and you need to do the work to make sure that every single word of a job document is distinct and distinctive.

 

 

 

 

Asking to Speak to Other People of Color on a Campus Visit

Today’s post is adapted from an email followup from a client, who wanted to report back to me her experience as a black female job candidate on a campus visit.  In a webinar this client had asked whether or not it was a good idea to ask the search committee to arrange a meeting or meetings with other faculty of color from anywhere across campus beyond the department. Her insights show that my response in the webinar was incorrect.

I am happy to be able to share better advice now.

Thank you, dear client!

The short version is: if you are a scholar of color, of course ask to speak to other scholars of color on campus, no matter where they may be located.  A really savvy and sensitive search committee (are you reading this, search committees???) will make arrangements for this proactively, without you having to ask.  If any department is shocked or offended by such a request, it speaks volumes about the climate.

All-caps in original; bolding added by me.

~~~~~~~

Thank you for writing such a phenomenal resource. I am a recent graduate (2015) with a PhD in [Humanities] from U of XX, and I got 2 (!!) job interviews and 2 offers on the market this year after a successful postdoc year at U of XX. I accepted a position as an assistant professor of [Humanities] at the University X.

Aside from reading your book several times (particularly during the plane rides to both interviews), I did your Job visit/on campus interview workshop and it was so invaluable to me. I used all of your advice (even down to brushing my teeth before I met the committee member at the airport), and all of it helped me feel confident, prepared, and relatively calm during both of my interviews.

I wanted to email you to offer a little more insight on a question I asked during the webinar that seemed to have stumped you a bit. I wondered if it was appropriate to ask to speak to black people – ANY BLACK PEOPLE – when I went on a campus interview to a SLAC.  You suggested that it might be weird to ask to speak to someone who wasn’t at least in my field, and would turn unnecessary attention to race during the interview period. [KK:  Just to clarify, my advice was that she should definitely ask to speak with other faculty of color in the department or a closely related department, but not to ask to speak to “anyone from anywhere”  across campus]

After speaking to two different black, woman professor friends, I decided to disregard that advice and I did mention that I wanted to speak to someone (particularly a black woman) who would have some insight on issues of diversity in the community.

The response was that one of the committee members appeared to be shocked that a meeting with the SOLE other black faculty member (who was in Math) wasn’t already scheduled. She personally rearranged several of my meetings to make it happen. And it was EXTREMELY insightful. I did not choose that job based on a lot of things I learned in that meeting.

I should add here that the institution I accepted offered me a very comparable salary + research package despite its being a much smaller/non-research school.

After speaking to a few other professors about the issue, it is pretty clear to me that if the university and the committee aren’t very upfront about issues of race and diversity then it’s probably not going to be great place to work and live as a non-white person. If the committee is shocked or put off by your request, they will also probably be shocked and put off when you bring up any of the many things that you will, no doubt, encounter as a faculty member of color– this especially if you are also a woman.

It cannot and should not be an unspeakable mystery to your future colleagues that you are facing unique challenges that need to be addressed. Based on my limited experience and the anecdotes of others, a great committee will have thought of this prior to your arrival. Well-meaning folks will take your request seriously and understand why it is important to you.

~~~~~~