So it's been four months since I submitted a total of four tenure-track job applications. I've received three acknowledgments of application receipt and two rejection letters since then.
School A acknowledged my application within a week, with a hand-signed note. They rejected me a month later, letting me know I hadn't made their shortlist, with another hand-signed note. Extremely classy and prompt.
School B acknowledged my application a month after I sent it, and did not reject me until after a finalist had accepted their position in mid-January. They also included the number of applications (over 375!) so I would not feel unduly excluded or unqualified.
School C has already hired someone, but I've never heard a word of acknowledgment or rejection. Just stone silence.
School D I have no insider info on, but seriously, it's been four months since the application deadline and they should have picked a shortlist by now. I doubt I'll hear from them either.
I was musing upon this when I came across this article in the Chronicle:
The Favor of a Reply is Requested
Honestly, I've been on the administrative end of multiple searches, and simple courtesy is not too much to ask considering the amount of stuff and the cost of postage schools require from applicants. This person expressed that feeling with some hideous examples that may make you feel better if you're in the middle of a job search.
In the meantime, I'm applying for other local jobs and taking solace in the fact that at least no move is on our horizon, hurray!
2.20.2008
2.19.2008
But, mom, he's really not like that.
I couldn't wait to share this one. One of the papers I'm working on has to do with young men and masculinities, and this study feeds right into the work I'm interested in because it challenges our stereotypes about how adolescent boys think:
Inside the Mind of the Boy Dating Your Daughter
Inside the Mind of the Boy Dating Your Daughter
2.18.2008
February sprint.
It's more of an overall statement, rather than a workout summary. And it's not just me; this month seems like an interval workout for many people I know.
In the last two weeks:
Runs: 2 (1 for 40 minutes! Yay!)
Yoga sessions of at least 20 minutes: 4
Other exercise of varying types: several ten-minute bursts of ab-type-stuff and upper-body weights.
Exciting purchases: a new dance workout video I'm going to try with the bug this afternoon.
Given what I'm about to describe, I'm lucky I still have energy to move. :)
At work, last week marked the first of three finalist visits for the permanent director position, with two to go. (I'm serving as the interim director for this year, and didn't apply for the permanent job.) Each of these visits is a mini-campus Olympics of stress and agony for the candidate and committee alike. After the conclusion of each, the paperwork marathon begins in hopes of crossing the travel reimbursement tape. Part of the reason I'm in this job is to run the search, so the visit planning, travel arrangements, and eventual payback all go through me. And multiple other campus finance departments, of course.
Each one of these lucky people will meet with all my staff, the search committee, and language coordinators from multiple departments; will give a job talk and a lunch interview; will tour campus and our specific facilities; and will do all these things between 8:30 a.m. and 4 p.m. in a single day.
I think they should receive Superman capes just for walking in the door.
Also, I have a paper, a book review, two book chapters, and a conference paper due by April 1. So my blogging is likely to be of limited length, insight, and perspicacity for the next month or so. Which means I may start supplementing heavily with pictures, to the potential joy of my family readers. :)
And I'm still looking for a job for next fall. I'm working on some part-time teaching applications in my copious spare time, as it looks like the tenure track is one place I won't be sprinting in the year ahead. With luck, this round of applications will be more productive and less apparently dependent on a random-number generator.
In the last two weeks:
Runs: 2 (1 for 40 minutes! Yay!)
Yoga sessions of at least 20 minutes: 4
Other exercise of varying types: several ten-minute bursts of ab-type-stuff and upper-body weights.
Exciting purchases: a new dance workout video I'm going to try with the bug this afternoon.
Given what I'm about to describe, I'm lucky I still have energy to move. :)
At work, last week marked the first of three finalist visits for the permanent director position, with two to go. (I'm serving as the interim director for this year, and didn't apply for the permanent job.) Each of these visits is a mini-campus Olympics of stress and agony for the candidate and committee alike. After the conclusion of each, the paperwork marathon begins in hopes of crossing the travel reimbursement tape. Part of the reason I'm in this job is to run the search, so the visit planning, travel arrangements, and eventual payback all go through me. And multiple other campus finance departments, of course.
Each one of these lucky people will meet with all my staff, the search committee, and language coordinators from multiple departments; will give a job talk and a lunch interview; will tour campus and our specific facilities; and will do all these things between 8:30 a.m. and 4 p.m. in a single day.
I think they should receive Superman capes just for walking in the door.
Also, I have a paper, a book review, two book chapters, and a conference paper due by April 1. So my blogging is likely to be of limited length, insight, and perspicacity for the next month or so. Which means I may start supplementing heavily with pictures, to the potential joy of my family readers. :)
And I'm still looking for a job for next fall. I'm working on some part-time teaching applications in my copious spare time, as it looks like the tenure track is one place I won't be sprinting in the year ahead. With luck, this round of applications will be more productive and less apparently dependent on a random-number generator.
2.07.2008
Thoughts on a weekend alone.
Thanks to Jenni for the Crazy Hip Blog Mamas Thingy Thursday posting idea. I am unsure I qualify as Crazy Hip, but why not claim the title if I'm taking on the question of the week?
"If I had an entire weekend alone, I would..."
Leave my laptop at home, so I wouldn't be tempted to do any kind of productive work whatsoever or communicate with the hundred people I commonly owe an email or a note.
Go somewhere else, so I wouldn't be tempted to clean the house or do laundry or iron or any of the million little tasks that get interrupted when I am not alone in the house.
That somewhere else, for maximum relaxation, would have the following features:
--really cool independent bookstore
--coffeehouse with maximum yummy baked goods, including croissants and cakes of several varieties
--yoga studio
--clean, warm, airy public pool
--at least a few restaurants with good food and casual atmosphere
--an art museum
--cheap yet safe and functional lodgings.
I would choose a book and a magazine and read them both without interruption. I would go to a long yoga class and not worry about what I should be doing instead of meditating and stretching. I would buy a pretty blank book and write something in it besides to-do lists and organizational details. I would wander around an art museum and look at just what I wanted, taking as long as I wanted. I would go for a swim in a warm lap pool where no children are splashing and romping and running because it is adult swim time. I would go back to the bookstore and listen to some famous author I love talk about his/her latest book, and I would buy a copy and get it signed.
I would eat yummy healthy food that I didn't have to grocery-shop for or meal-plan for or dress up for or figure if anyone else will like or talk the bug into trying just one bite of.
At night, I would watch cable TV in the hotel room and get to be in charge of the remote, with no cartoons and no Discovery or History Channel unless I'm interested in what's on. Probably watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert and maybe some girlie movie. No one would snore, kick me, try to climb on me, sneak in and pull away my pillows, or call for snuggling and re-tucking from another room.
I would probably get lonely at some point. The no-snuggling-calls would likely be that point. I would call home to remind my family I love them and to hear the bug snuffle-breathe in her sleep on the cell phone.
The next morning I would sleep as late as I wanted, go to church, have a big carbohydrate-loaded breakfast, and go for a challenging hike or go white-water-rafting or do some form of outdoor exercise in sunshine that I cannot do while encumbered by a young 'un. To take advantage of the moment. I would ask someone to take my picture because as my parents point out I am almost never in any photographs because I'm always holding the camera.
Then I would go home to my family refreshed. Just visualizing all this has had a similar effect.
"If I had an entire weekend alone, I would..."
Leave my laptop at home, so I wouldn't be tempted to do any kind of productive work whatsoever or communicate with the hundred people I commonly owe an email or a note.
Go somewhere else, so I wouldn't be tempted to clean the house or do laundry or iron or any of the million little tasks that get interrupted when I am not alone in the house.
That somewhere else, for maximum relaxation, would have the following features:
--really cool independent bookstore
--coffeehouse with maximum yummy baked goods, including croissants and cakes of several varieties
--yoga studio
--clean, warm, airy public pool
--at least a few restaurants with good food and casual atmosphere
--an art museum
--cheap yet safe and functional lodgings.
I would choose a book and a magazine and read them both without interruption. I would go to a long yoga class and not worry about what I should be doing instead of meditating and stretching. I would buy a pretty blank book and write something in it besides to-do lists and organizational details. I would wander around an art museum and look at just what I wanted, taking as long as I wanted. I would go for a swim in a warm lap pool where no children are splashing and romping and running because it is adult swim time. I would go back to the bookstore and listen to some famous author I love talk about his/her latest book, and I would buy a copy and get it signed.
I would eat yummy healthy food that I didn't have to grocery-shop for or meal-plan for or dress up for or figure if anyone else will like or talk the bug into trying just one bite of.
At night, I would watch cable TV in the hotel room and get to be in charge of the remote, with no cartoons and no Discovery or History Channel unless I'm interested in what's on. Probably watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert and maybe some girlie movie. No one would snore, kick me, try to climb on me, sneak in and pull away my pillows, or call for snuggling and re-tucking from another room.
I would probably get lonely at some point. The no-snuggling-calls would likely be that point. I would call home to remind my family I love them and to hear the bug snuffle-breathe in her sleep on the cell phone.
The next morning I would sleep as late as I wanted, go to church, have a big carbohydrate-loaded breakfast, and go for a challenging hike or go white-water-rafting or do some form of outdoor exercise in sunshine that I cannot do while encumbered by a young 'un. To take advantage of the moment. I would ask someone to take my picture because as my parents point out I am almost never in any photographs because I'm always holding the camera.
Then I would go home to my family refreshed. Just visualizing all this has had a similar effect.
2.06.2008
Last week: 1. Me: 0.
I'm sticking to the weekly post but it's a bit delayed. Last week Matt was sick and I was tired. So, together we were sick and tired which bodes poorly for exercise and other goals. One good long walk was had, but then it got cold and snowy. Sigh. So our trips instead of being outdoor adventures were indoor adventures.
I forgot just how cool public libraries can be to small girls, especially when they have model trains. The bug now wants to go all the time, which ups her literacy potential another few points just by proximity. :)
This week is off to a much better start and holds the potential of warmth and clean sidewalks. Frolicking outside may occur if we're lucky. February always seems like the longest month of the year to me in spite of the actual hours, so here's hoping for continued sunshine and a break from the winter doldrums.
I forgot just how cool public libraries can be to small girls, especially when they have model trains. The bug now wants to go all the time, which ups her literacy potential another few points just by proximity. :)
This week is off to a much better start and holds the potential of warmth and clean sidewalks. Frolicking outside may occur if we're lucky. February always seems like the longest month of the year to me in spite of the actual hours, so here's hoping for continued sunshine and a break from the winter doldrums.
2.01.2008
Bug parties.
For the last two weekends I've attended kids' birthday parties with the bug. One was at a local children's museum. We hadn't visited before and it was fun to play with costumes, bubble machines, vacuum cleaner tubes, and wind tunnels. The second was at a Boulder kids' art studio where the party guests made bugs, butterflies, tambourines, and spin art, when not fighting over the glitter, jewels, feathers, or salad spinners used to rotate the artwork.
The unsurprising observation that 3-year-olds are not rock stars at sharing led the moms present to some interesting commentary. "You've used enough glitter, honey, give someone else a turn." "One handful of jewels is enough." "Share the paints so your whole box isn't just blue." "It's time for another project. You're done with that one."
As someone who wonders where we get our internal artistic limits, it was thought-provoking to watch the moms, in trying to maintain social order, restrict their kids' artistic freedom. I think not bonking your neighbor on the head with the paintbrush is as important as the next person. It did make me wonder, though: if we'd just left the kids in the room with all the art supplies and let them go without limits, what would they have made? I can't imagine the bug getting to use ALL THE PAINT SHE WANTS on as many sheets of paper as she wants, even if there's only one quick brushstroke on each.
I also wonder if we're teaching them frugality with this approach, which is honestly important since artists work on limited budgets, or if we're keeping them from new kinds of discovery learning. Weird tensions between artistic ideals and kids making art.
The unsurprising observation that 3-year-olds are not rock stars at sharing led the moms present to some interesting commentary. "You've used enough glitter, honey, give someone else a turn." "One handful of jewels is enough." "Share the paints so your whole box isn't just blue." "It's time for another project. You're done with that one."
As someone who wonders where we get our internal artistic limits, it was thought-provoking to watch the moms, in trying to maintain social order, restrict their kids' artistic freedom. I think not bonking your neighbor on the head with the paintbrush is as important as the next person. It did make me wonder, though: if we'd just left the kids in the room with all the art supplies and let them go without limits, what would they have made? I can't imagine the bug getting to use ALL THE PAINT SHE WANTS on as many sheets of paper as she wants, even if there's only one quick brushstroke on each.
I also wonder if we're teaching them frugality with this approach, which is honestly important since artists work on limited budgets, or if we're keeping them from new kinds of discovery learning. Weird tensions between artistic ideals and kids making art.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)