I used to teach in an Iowa town that Bill Bryson said was “as tranquil as a double dose of Valium.” That was close to the mark. Pretty much everything I hated about it as a single person — the cuteness, the tidiness — I loved as a parent. There were Dutch bakeries, holiday carriage rides, even a craft beer pub all within a five-minute stroll. And I had a six-block commute to work.
That is it exactly, Terry. There were some miserable years there when I believed that I'd changed, or that my idealism was the problem. It's liberating to be able to see more plainly in the light you describe.
Well, I am no psychologist, but going by my own experience of having to constantly tell myself, in one particularly toxic environment, that I wasn't useless, I would say that what happened to you (and others I presume) sounds like it was, in effect, a form of bullying. After all, the new scheme took away people's power to make effective decisions involving money, but still left them being responsible for those decisions.
I’m so sorry to hear about your divorce. But then, as someone who went through a similar journey (and still am in many ways), I’m not sorry--I’m glad that you’re spreading your wings, broken though they may feel. From one recovering academic (and divorcée) to another. Cheers. 🥃
Well, I'm taking no victory laps just yet, and I suppose I distinguish sadness from being sorry. But I do feel that my divorce parallels my exit from academe to an uncanny degree. At a certain point, you realize there is no path forward but apart.
It was my divorce that gave me a bit more of a clear head to be able to get away from the worst of the adjunct abuse. Seeing that similarity helped empower me. Sending love and strength to ya.
Josh, This essay was so beautiful. I'm inspired by your raw honesty and the beauty in how you wrote it. I kind of wish you went first so I could go level up my own essay after this. But at least I can appreciate reading this.
The military to me was academia to you it sounds like. I loved the mission, felt like I was doing something important with my life, felt like I was achieving a higher calling when I took a cat shot or helped a buddy land. But those days were fleeting, and work became budgets, "the ever present good steward of taxpayer money", lack of trust from senior leaders, worries about covering my ass, and so much more than no longer felt like a calling. I felt disillusioned. I've been thinking a lot about this in recent days, as I'm not sure if my transition will be complete when I find another purpose like that, or when I give up on the search for such a purpose. It's certainly not a notion that modern society seems to support from what I can tell. Maybe it's even capitalism that doesn't support that, I'm not ready to defend that position yet.
Thanks for reminding me of that Gilbert poem the other day. I needed that reminder today, when I feel like I've been kicked while I'm down (and I literally got kicked in the ribs on Sunday). And thank you for reminding me that we flew.
Indeed -- the reintegration to civilian life after military service is much like an exit from academe. Both are bubbles, to some degree, and totalizing in their demands and in their mythologies.
Flying is a little more literal in your case! But I'm glad that reminder is helpful to you, too.
I just so appreciate this essay Josh, particularly on the heels of Latham’s yesterday. You guys both touch such an important part of manhood. Recovering from the stories we were taught, or learned ourselves. The intersection of belief and belonging that was so powerful in your academic days. Having to divorce yourself from that when it no longer served you is what recovery truly is. Thanks for the wonderful words and also the references to some other authors that meant something to you. I’m very grateful that I get to spend time in collaboration with such a talented writer as you.
Appreciate the solidarity and brotherhood, Dee. It is remarkable how much we all, in our writing group, share in common despite our wildly different paths.
What a great post, thank you! This was not the main point of your post but I was heartened to have my own reaction to a similar budget issue validated. I started a small MA program (public humanities) at my institution (long story), spent much time crafting the budget that was approved by all parties, then after launch, was told I needed approval for each item, even small amounts under $100. Most of my budget for grad student support got slashed. I had made promises to prospective students that I could not meet. I was assigned an assistant (hired without my input or knowledge) who was vastly under-qualified. Every interaction with the administration became adversarial and the commitments I had made to prospective students could not be met. After a year, I was offered another management position (short-term) and resigned the directorship. The new director has shut me out of the program and hired someone else to teach the intro course I invented for it. (There is a longer story here about gender and authority but I'll spare you.) Although my academic career has been amazing (lots of research support, great students), I am applying for phased retirement earlier than intended, in part to distance myself from this painful situation. So like you, the first sign of trouble involved the budget issue (follow the money!) which was part of a much larger structural problem.
Thank you, Kathryn. Yes, money (and scarcity) is the root of much of this trouble. I'm sorry to hear that you're leaving sooner than anticipated. But perhaps you identify with that Gilbert poem, too? It's not that you're falling, it's that you're coming to the end of your triumph.
There's always been a lot of money inequity in higher ed, but I think we're seeing a new era of just unabashed tilt away from the core mission. Take, for instance, the obscene salaries for football coaches at my alma mater and a $450 million stadium renovation while academic programs are being slashed. The fact that the funding comes from different streams does not matter. This is a question of value and importance, and there is a problem when academic professionals are told repeatedly, in direct and indirect ways, that they are not valued, that they are not important to the enterprise. Clarity in accounting does nothing to address the human toll.
So true, I have chaired for 7 years and most in my department feel undervalued for one reason or another. Yet we would not have students without us and we are deeply appreciated by our students. And, yes, the Gilbert poem and your take on it resonated with me. I was a high school dropout and briefly homeless so the security and TIME to think and learn and the support of my institution during a period of family crisis in 2006 have meant so much to me. I am sad about leaving and, at the same time, grateful for the generous faculty benefit that offers 2 years of phased retirement. Your sports example is a metaphor for all the ways the university spends while underinvesting in faculty. Much more to be said about this, especially its impact on new faculty. I would not want to be entering this career now.
I'm glad you had a good run, overall. Your point about students goes to one of the chief ironies in the corporatization of higher ed, namely, that students rarely, if ever, become lifelong friends with an administrator. But they do forge those lifelong bonds with their teachers. Based on that, you'd think that teachers would be compensated just a hair better than they are, yes?
I recognise your description of the changes in academia that sifted you out. I left my main career in my mid forties which was a complete identity crisis, and found academia as a second career in which I was very happy until everything I valued about being in academia became secondary to the money.
Thank you, June. It does seem that there are two different tiers regarding the money. The top tier leverages its advantage to acquire wealth in a way that Scott Galloway compares to a cartel. This means recruiting students with no intention of admitting them, just to appear more selective, etc. The endowments of elite institutions really do beg the question of whether they should be classified as nonprofits.
On the other end of the spectrum, regional and state institutions, as well as small private colleges, really do have to think hard about the money because of scarcity. So I get it: resources are dwindling, and this triggers hoarding and bunker mentalities. But the real tragedy, as you suggest, is that the scarcity panic erodes the core mission. I think such profound damage has been done on that front that it will take generations to recover.
I agree. I totally 'got' that, and as a Dean worked hard to make my faculty sustainable - without losing any programmes and keeping quality high. Then we had a change at the top and suddenly it became all about league tables and numbers and pushing the 'popular' programmes at the expense of the smaller humanities programmes. It became a nightmare - pile 'em high approach with the 'weakest' going to the wall. We rarely discussed our real purpose , just endless graphs on applications, comparison groups, league table quartiles....it makes me shiver to think of it. I could've stayed another three years but I bailed as soon as I thought my pension would support me.
Beautifully written, Josh! I appreciate the way you lightly weave the two changes together with strong images of your garden. I also like your point about disappointed academics having idealism in common. It does seem like idealists can have a little more clout as change-makers if they band together through gathering places like your Substack.
Thank you, Tara! Yes, I do hope to provide a gathering place for idealists. I like that conception a lot. Have you read my manifesto on teaching as an art rather than a science? I might have to repost that, since I think it came very early in the series.
I am pretty positive it got worse. My mother is retiring this year after 30 years in. She is distinguished, full, all the epithets you can attach to professor. All her life she told me being a professor was a great job
Whereas the millennials I know who are TT at an R1, like she was, all tell me the job is miserable and it socks. Just seems like such a difference from my mom's attitude at the same age
Yes, this is what I'm hearing. And it steadies me somewhat to know that pushing a button and flying back to my old post would solve nothing. Even so, I find it hard to say that I'll never teach in a traditional setting again?
Well, I wrote a song on Milton's sonnet "On His Blindness." So I appreciate that greatly! Thanks for the other reminders. You're quite right. I am a father and a writer and a gardener and a dozen other things.
Beautiful post! Heartfelt and so well written. Thank you for taking time to write it. While I was never an academic, I was an adjunct professor for 5 years at USC. It was a career highlight for me. I’d still be doing it, until I realized the school made 400k from my class, while they paid me 5k. It pushed me to start my own business teaching what I taught at the school. The education system, college debt and the issues we are seeing now at the Ivy Leagues are breaking the faith of many. Maybe there is a way for you to continue your love of academia but in a new way or on a different platform. (Maybe that’s why you have a Substack.) Wishing you well in your endeavors and thank you for the reminder that Icarus also flew. (Wow, that was so powerful)!
Thank you, Krista! Yes, I do continue teaching in a way as a book coach. And I'm exploring ideas for offering digital courses and possibly certifying my medical humanities content for continuing medical education. But it's not the same as teaching in person.
I do think I've come to separate "academia," which always felt fraught, from the life of the mind. But for a time I really did cultivate a rich inner life while teaching in a traditional sense. I don't think that model is necessarily dead. But it's increasingly difficult to find.
They ought to have included you in the budget discussions, but are you saying that in a normal year you were just given a dollar figure in an Excel spreadsheet and you could spend it basically however you wanted?
Thanks, Max -- that is perhaps an in-the-weeds conversation that I've moved beyond. But, yes, there was once actual budget authority, such as the ability to submit reimbursements directly to the business office. As Director, I was responsible to the bottom line (and had no trouble staying within the means of the program). After the switch, every expenditure required preapproval.
Everything we do is worth doing, but more: it is endowed with a kind of ecstatic magic because everything we do is who we are, and we are the stuff of stars made conscious and capable of love. The only error is to forget to love, ignore the stars, or dismiss the magic. But even if you make one of those errors, the universe will come back to you with arms open wide. Thank you for sharing this. I love your writing when you write from the heart.
Thanks for this post. I'm curious about the students and whether in your "flying" time, they inspired you but during your "falling" time they didn't. And if you became less inspired by the act of teaching young people, how much of it was because of you and how much because of them?
Best,
David
P.S. Also remember Icarus didn't listen to his father! Not sure I ever used that on my kids. Missed opportunity.
Haha -- true about Icarus. Some selective evidence there.
You ask a good question. And, like Arthur Miller, I might say that there were wheels within wheels. Were students skewing toward the transactional and away from the relational near the end? Yes, to some degree. But they were just following larger trends and had been influenced by parents and others.
I still found that 15 weeks was enough time to penetrate those defenses and make a real connection. So I did not, in any respect, grow less inspired by teaching. During my final semester, I met weekly with one of my students, a basketball player, who more often wanted to talk about life than about class. He approached me after class on the first day, and every Monday after that he'd follow me down to my office and we'd talk about childhood, friendship, and a host of other things. So that was real right to the end.
A gentle reminder: I do not accept that I was falling at the end. It was, as Gilbert says, more the end of what had been, largely, up until then, a triumph.
Glad to hear that you were still inspired by teaching and mentoring your students. And certainly you make the point about not falling (sorry!) but continuing to triumph through the example of the basketball playing student who you mentored.
And I know that you are finding ways to continue doing that outside of Academe, which is extremely fortunate for the younger people you will help.
I think that in some respects it's not that you left academe but that the academe you went into left you.
That is it exactly, Terry. There were some miserable years there when I believed that I'd changed, or that my idealism was the problem. It's liberating to be able to see more plainly in the light you describe.
Well, I am no psychologist, but going by my own experience of having to constantly tell myself, in one particularly toxic environment, that I wasn't useless, I would say that what happened to you (and others I presume) sounds like it was, in effect, a form of bullying. After all, the new scheme took away people's power to make effective decisions involving money, but still left them being responsible for those decisions.
I’m so sorry to hear about your divorce. But then, as someone who went through a similar journey (and still am in many ways), I’m not sorry--I’m glad that you’re spreading your wings, broken though they may feel. From one recovering academic (and divorcée) to another. Cheers. 🥃
Well, I'm taking no victory laps just yet, and I suppose I distinguish sadness from being sorry. But I do feel that my divorce parallels my exit from academe to an uncanny degree. At a certain point, you realize there is no path forward but apart.
It was my divorce that gave me a bit more of a clear head to be able to get away from the worst of the adjunct abuse. Seeing that similarity helped empower me. Sending love and strength to ya.
❤️
Josh, This essay was so beautiful. I'm inspired by your raw honesty and the beauty in how you wrote it. I kind of wish you went first so I could go level up my own essay after this. But at least I can appreciate reading this.
The military to me was academia to you it sounds like. I loved the mission, felt like I was doing something important with my life, felt like I was achieving a higher calling when I took a cat shot or helped a buddy land. But those days were fleeting, and work became budgets, "the ever present good steward of taxpayer money", lack of trust from senior leaders, worries about covering my ass, and so much more than no longer felt like a calling. I felt disillusioned. I've been thinking a lot about this in recent days, as I'm not sure if my transition will be complete when I find another purpose like that, or when I give up on the search for such a purpose. It's certainly not a notion that modern society seems to support from what I can tell. Maybe it's even capitalism that doesn't support that, I'm not ready to defend that position yet.
Thanks for reminding me of that Gilbert poem the other day. I needed that reminder today, when I feel like I've been kicked while I'm down (and I literally got kicked in the ribs on Sunday). And thank you for reminding me that we flew.
Indeed -- the reintegration to civilian life after military service is much like an exit from academe. Both are bubbles, to some degree, and totalizing in their demands and in their mythologies.
Flying is a little more literal in your case! But I'm glad that reminder is helpful to you, too.
I just so appreciate this essay Josh, particularly on the heels of Latham’s yesterday. You guys both touch such an important part of manhood. Recovering from the stories we were taught, or learned ourselves. The intersection of belief and belonging that was so powerful in your academic days. Having to divorce yourself from that when it no longer served you is what recovery truly is. Thanks for the wonderful words and also the references to some other authors that meant something to you. I’m very grateful that I get to spend time in collaboration with such a talented writer as you.
Appreciate the solidarity and brotherhood, Dee. It is remarkable how much we all, in our writing group, share in common despite our wildly different paths.
The struggle is real 💪🏻🙏
What a great post, thank you! This was not the main point of your post but I was heartened to have my own reaction to a similar budget issue validated. I started a small MA program (public humanities) at my institution (long story), spent much time crafting the budget that was approved by all parties, then after launch, was told I needed approval for each item, even small amounts under $100. Most of my budget for grad student support got slashed. I had made promises to prospective students that I could not meet. I was assigned an assistant (hired without my input or knowledge) who was vastly under-qualified. Every interaction with the administration became adversarial and the commitments I had made to prospective students could not be met. After a year, I was offered another management position (short-term) and resigned the directorship. The new director has shut me out of the program and hired someone else to teach the intro course I invented for it. (There is a longer story here about gender and authority but I'll spare you.) Although my academic career has been amazing (lots of research support, great students), I am applying for phased retirement earlier than intended, in part to distance myself from this painful situation. So like you, the first sign of trouble involved the budget issue (follow the money!) which was part of a much larger structural problem.
Thank you, Kathryn. Yes, money (and scarcity) is the root of much of this trouble. I'm sorry to hear that you're leaving sooner than anticipated. But perhaps you identify with that Gilbert poem, too? It's not that you're falling, it's that you're coming to the end of your triumph.
There's always been a lot of money inequity in higher ed, but I think we're seeing a new era of just unabashed tilt away from the core mission. Take, for instance, the obscene salaries for football coaches at my alma mater and a $450 million stadium renovation while academic programs are being slashed. The fact that the funding comes from different streams does not matter. This is a question of value and importance, and there is a problem when academic professionals are told repeatedly, in direct and indirect ways, that they are not valued, that they are not important to the enterprise. Clarity in accounting does nothing to address the human toll.
https://apnews.com/article/nebraska-football-stadium-academic-cuts-77fa463ec121f7f19713a98b5667f31b
So true, I have chaired for 7 years and most in my department feel undervalued for one reason or another. Yet we would not have students without us and we are deeply appreciated by our students. And, yes, the Gilbert poem and your take on it resonated with me. I was a high school dropout and briefly homeless so the security and TIME to think and learn and the support of my institution during a period of family crisis in 2006 have meant so much to me. I am sad about leaving and, at the same time, grateful for the generous faculty benefit that offers 2 years of phased retirement. Your sports example is a metaphor for all the ways the university spends while underinvesting in faculty. Much more to be said about this, especially its impact on new faculty. I would not want to be entering this career now.
I'm glad you had a good run, overall. Your point about students goes to one of the chief ironies in the corporatization of higher ed, namely, that students rarely, if ever, become lifelong friends with an administrator. But they do forge those lifelong bonds with their teachers. Based on that, you'd think that teachers would be compensated just a hair better than they are, yes?
You know what Dylan sang, "He not busy bein' born . . ." From what I've learned about you so far, Josh, that's what you do.
So beautiful and true, Josh. Thank you for writing. Of course I love the garden metaphor!
I recognise your description of the changes in academia that sifted you out. I left my main career in my mid forties which was a complete identity crisis, and found academia as a second career in which I was very happy until everything I valued about being in academia became secondary to the money.
Thank you, June. It does seem that there are two different tiers regarding the money. The top tier leverages its advantage to acquire wealth in a way that Scott Galloway compares to a cartel. This means recruiting students with no intention of admitting them, just to appear more selective, etc. The endowments of elite institutions really do beg the question of whether they should be classified as nonprofits.
On the other end of the spectrum, regional and state institutions, as well as small private colleges, really do have to think hard about the money because of scarcity. So I get it: resources are dwindling, and this triggers hoarding and bunker mentalities. But the real tragedy, as you suggest, is that the scarcity panic erodes the core mission. I think such profound damage has been done on that front that it will take generations to recover.
I agree. I totally 'got' that, and as a Dean worked hard to make my faculty sustainable - without losing any programmes and keeping quality high. Then we had a change at the top and suddenly it became all about league tables and numbers and pushing the 'popular' programmes at the expense of the smaller humanities programmes. It became a nightmare - pile 'em high approach with the 'weakest' going to the wall. We rarely discussed our real purpose , just endless graphs on applications, comparison groups, league table quartiles....it makes me shiver to think of it. I could've stayed another three years but I bailed as soon as I thought my pension would support me.
Beautifully written, Josh! I appreciate the way you lightly weave the two changes together with strong images of your garden. I also like your point about disappointed academics having idealism in common. It does seem like idealists can have a little more clout as change-makers if they band together through gathering places like your Substack.
Thank you, Tara! Yes, I do hope to provide a gathering place for idealists. I like that conception a lot. Have you read my manifesto on teaching as an art rather than a science? I might have to repost that, since I think it came very early in the series.
I am pretty positive it got worse. My mother is retiring this year after 30 years in. She is distinguished, full, all the epithets you can attach to professor. All her life she told me being a professor was a great job
Whereas the millennials I know who are TT at an R1, like she was, all tell me the job is miserable and it socks. Just seems like such a difference from my mom's attitude at the same age
Yes, this is what I'm hearing. And it steadies me somewhat to know that pushing a button and flying back to my old post would solve nothing. Even so, I find it hard to say that I'll never teach in a traditional setting again?
You are not an academic. Nor are you a divorcé. Those are the roles you played. Now it is time for a different role.
(side note: I wrote a song one the Shelley poem. My bandmates decided I was "too intellectual." )
Well, I wrote a song on Milton's sonnet "On His Blindness." So I appreciate that greatly! Thanks for the other reminders. You're quite right. I am a father and a writer and a gardener and a dozen other things.
Beautiful post! Heartfelt and so well written. Thank you for taking time to write it. While I was never an academic, I was an adjunct professor for 5 years at USC. It was a career highlight for me. I’d still be doing it, until I realized the school made 400k from my class, while they paid me 5k. It pushed me to start my own business teaching what I taught at the school. The education system, college debt and the issues we are seeing now at the Ivy Leagues are breaking the faith of many. Maybe there is a way for you to continue your love of academia but in a new way or on a different platform. (Maybe that’s why you have a Substack.) Wishing you well in your endeavors and thank you for the reminder that Icarus also flew. (Wow, that was so powerful)!
Thank you, Krista! Yes, I do continue teaching in a way as a book coach. And I'm exploring ideas for offering digital courses and possibly certifying my medical humanities content for continuing medical education. But it's not the same as teaching in person.
I do think I've come to separate "academia," which always felt fraught, from the life of the mind. But for a time I really did cultivate a rich inner life while teaching in a traditional sense. I don't think that model is necessarily dead. But it's increasingly difficult to find.
They ought to have included you in the budget discussions, but are you saying that in a normal year you were just given a dollar figure in an Excel spreadsheet and you could spend it basically however you wanted?
Thanks, Max -- that is perhaps an in-the-weeds conversation that I've moved beyond. But, yes, there was once actual budget authority, such as the ability to submit reimbursements directly to the business office. As Director, I was responsible to the bottom line (and had no trouble staying within the means of the program). After the switch, every expenditure required preapproval.
Everything we do is worth doing, but more: it is endowed with a kind of ecstatic magic because everything we do is who we are, and we are the stuff of stars made conscious and capable of love. The only error is to forget to love, ignore the stars, or dismiss the magic. But even if you make one of those errors, the universe will come back to you with arms open wide. Thank you for sharing this. I love your writing when you write from the heart.
Brilliantly written read, Josh. Many thanks for sharing.👏✍️
Thanks for reading!
Josh,
Thanks for this post. I'm curious about the students and whether in your "flying" time, they inspired you but during your "falling" time they didn't. And if you became less inspired by the act of teaching young people, how much of it was because of you and how much because of them?
Best,
David
P.S. Also remember Icarus didn't listen to his father! Not sure I ever used that on my kids. Missed opportunity.
Haha -- true about Icarus. Some selective evidence there.
You ask a good question. And, like Arthur Miller, I might say that there were wheels within wheels. Were students skewing toward the transactional and away from the relational near the end? Yes, to some degree. But they were just following larger trends and had been influenced by parents and others.
I still found that 15 weeks was enough time to penetrate those defenses and make a real connection. So I did not, in any respect, grow less inspired by teaching. During my final semester, I met weekly with one of my students, a basketball player, who more often wanted to talk about life than about class. He approached me after class on the first day, and every Monday after that he'd follow me down to my office and we'd talk about childhood, friendship, and a host of other things. So that was real right to the end.
A gentle reminder: I do not accept that I was falling at the end. It was, as Gilbert says, more the end of what had been, largely, up until then, a triumph.
Glad to hear that you were still inspired by teaching and mentoring your students. And certainly you make the point about not falling (sorry!) but continuing to triumph through the example of the basketball playing student who you mentored.
And I know that you are finding ways to continue doing that outside of Academe, which is extremely fortunate for the younger people you will help.
Thank you, David!