In which I am, yet again, almost completely unsympathetic to an essayist in the CoHE, and (no doubt) come across as decidedly cranky in the process

Pseudonymous contributor V. S. Ravens informs us that

Tenure is supposed to mean carte blanche to speak your mind, to take risks you could not take as an assistant professor, to rest assured that your position was secure no matter how controversial your teaching, research, or extramural activities.

Why, so it is.  In the essay that follows, however, Ravens traces her disillusionment to something that has nothing to do with "teaching, research, or extramural activities"--namely, her desire to get rid of an incompetent member of the office staff.  Indeed, she uses the departure of said staffperson as leverage when a better university makes her a job offer.  Then, reality--in the form of the administration--comes knocking, and our would-be "leader" finds herself "shunned" instead. 

Now, I've never experienced trouble with front office staff--as in most departments, our secretary knows much more about how things work than the rest of us!--but I've certainly heard from people who have had problems like the ones Ravens describes.  So far, so good.   If Ravens had just stopped there and written a reflective essay on the practical difficulties facing a chair who needs to discipline and/or request the reassignment of a staff member, this could have been interesting.  I suspect that I'd have been far more sympathetic, too.  But this essay proves aggravating for the usual reason that CoHE "first person" essays prove aggravating: its total lack of self-awareness. 

To begin with, as I noted above, the tenure issue is really a red herring.  Tenure protects our freedom of academic inquiry; it doesn't protect our desire to get rid of the office staff.  Nor, for that matter, does it protect us from administrators who become irritated after we have made ourselves obnoxious--several times too often--about our desire to get rid of the office staff.  Indeed, my skepticism meter went sky-high.  Did the provost actually make a promise to reassign this staffperson in writing? Was he rolling his eyes at the time? (No matter how high-flying Ravens is, I have a very difficult time imagining a provost who would be willing to write "staffperson will be sent elsewhere" into a legal contract.)  Was Ravens genuinely unaware of the likely obstacles involved in getting this staffperson moved elsewhere? If this staffperson has been moved before, what's getting in the way of moving him/her now? Did Ravens violate said staffperson's confidentiality? If she "publicly" laid out her evidence of the staffperson's various malfeasances, then, in all probability, she did violate confidentiality laws--in the process opening the university up to a lawsuit and, quite likely, destroying any likelihood there might have been of resolving the problem.  And, as much as I hate to suggest such a thing, does the faculty member who "publicly questioned my request as a scurrilous backdoor pact" have a point, perhaps?

Even if we decide to begin with the assumption that Ravens is saintly and the administration, well, not saintly, there's still the matter of her apparent self-image to consider.  I have slowly but surely come to the conclusion that CoHE "first person" essays are often pseudonymous not because the writers fear reprisal, but because they offer such a fabulous opportunity for writers to wallow in the worst excesses of self-pity.  Up until Ravens' little fiasco, she was zipping merrily along, winning "early promotion and tenure" and, of course, another job offer.  She saw herself a crusader of sorts, with "a future as a leader of the campus," and certainly as someone with High Ethical Standards.  (Er, yes, I am for High Ethical Standards, but wait before you throw something at the screen.)  While she received "promotion and tenure without any special favors," there was something rotten in the state university:

My dedication to the campus mirrored the panic and innocence of all too many newly hired faculty members. I produced, cooperated, and slaved, with an eye toward that coveted job security. In the process, I learned far too much about the campus. I was witness to false friendships, deals, grudges, acts of political sabotage, indecorous alliances, favoritism. I learned that many staff members had achieved their positions through unseemly relationships. I learned when and where incompetence was tolerated. In my insecure, workaholic state, I posed as everyone's political ally out of fear and hope.

In other words, our writer discovered that there was such a thing as--gulp--academic politics.  Apparently, her campus also has the equivalent of a casting couch ("indecorous alliances"? "unseemly relationships"?).  But, remember, her accomplishments are free of taint.  Better still, she wants to rid the department of this pesky staffperson not because of any selfish desires on her part--"I was not interested in more money," after all--but because the needs of her "little, struggling department" come first.  I'm glad someone on her campus thinks of the little people.

On Ravens' journey towards the horrors lurking in the heart of the academic darkness, she neglected to pack any spare tact.  Given all the time she reportedly spent on committees, how did she manage to avoid learning basic skills like, say, diplomatic negotiation? Did she actually make tossing this staffperson a make-or-break issue for her chairmanship, and if so, what on earth for? (Surely, her "little, struggling department" could have used other things besides new office staff--like cash, for example.  What ever happened to priorities?) Did she ask herself how her staffperson's apparently chronic ill health might affect the university's ability to act? And does Ravens really view herself as a lone force for good in a world of evildoers?

Comments

[SorchaRei]

You don't seem the least bit cranky to me.

When I left academia and encountered workplace politics of the sort that can occur in the private sector, I had to come home and guffaw uproariously, comparing what I was seeing in my new workplace to the academic politics I was used to in the university. My department possessed two men who liked to brag about their prowess at winning political battles, and they would have been eaten alive at the executive and near-executive level in any company I have ever encountered in North America (or Denmark, for that matter).

From what you say, it sounds like the essayist is self-absorbed, not at all focused on the best interest of her "little department" and woefully uninformed about employment law.

[Jonathan]

It occured to me that it would be awfully funny if you were Ravens and the events depicted in that essay were completely imaginary.

[Sherman Dorn]

Ravens sounds like the stereotypical "high-maintenance" colleague. If you are cranky, then so am I.

[Gordon]

I'm with you, Little Professor. As a university staff member, I would gleefully participate in ostracizing this woman. There's an incompetent member of staff in my department; my supervisor has a three year plan to get rid of him. Raven's a fool.

[MJ]

I have slowly but surely come to the conclusion that CoHE "first person" essays are often pseudonymous not because the writers fear reprisal, but because they offer such a fabulous opportunity for writers to wallow in the worst excesses of self-pity.

First Person is almost always a whinefest. For my part, I'm just happy for the validation of reading that others have a similar opinion. :-)

[Michelle]

When I read this article a few weeks back, I too was amused and taken aback by Raven's "total lack of self-awareness." Again in the CoHE we see that there seems to be so much sturm and drang in academic politics because they stakes are so low.