How I Quit

I decided to be proactive in semester three of a four quarter “spouse incentive contract” i.e., tossing the trailing spouse a few crumbs to entice the person they actually want to hire to accept the job.  It was bad enough that I decided to leave academia already because I was unable to secure tenure track work where I loved living (and the disjuncture between perceptions of what this career would entail and the sinking feeling of its reality) but to be offered a job as a result of my spouse’s hire is not a recipe for self confidence and blazing a trail towards new pathways of fulfillment.  So, here I found myself adjuncting again, albeit, at a very good SLAC.  I took the offer because every bit of money counts when you live in a stupid-expensive part of the country and I was delusional (once again) that my skills might be valued this time, after all.  The wording regarding the offer of my contract implied that there might be a future there which is another reason why I agreed.  DON’T EVER BELIEVE THAT THERE IS ANYTHING BEYOND THE INITIAL OFFER.  I apologize for the screaming, but I have to emphasize that I have been sucked into little rays of hope three times over and have been denied each time.  It was probably a line to entice my spouse to take the position.

Instead of waiting until the end of the contract, I decided, “It is go time.”  I am not getting any younger and that retirement account isn’t materializing out of thin air magically like I so wish that it would.  I emailed the chair inquiring about longer term opportunities.  The chair wrote back that it didn’t look good, budgets, yada, yada, blergh.  I requested a meeting.  After learning of the “bait and switch,” I realized that I was just another contingent faculty member for realz.  I wasted a year and a half on a hope.  Although, it actually was not completely wasted.  I needed that time to mentally prepare myself and feel the mourning over the loss of a career I spent my entire adult life preparing for, but never fulfilled in its entirety.  It also wasn’t a waste of time because I got to teach courses on my “bucket list” including a methods course which I am finding useful for my resume (but not useful for my overall sanity).

When I quit the first time, I worked on my online creative business (that I started while still professing) but did not really consider any other employment opportunities.  I wasn’t ready.  I just couldn’t see how my education and current skill set would translate to another job or career.  Also, let’s face it, I didn’t want to lose the flexibility and relative freedom I enjoyed.  But crying all of the time, being secretly jealous of everyone around you who “made it” is not sustainable either.  This time I took control.  I requested a meeting and told the chair that considering my long-term prospects, I have made the hard decision to leave academia.  The chair was surprised at this news which was, in turn, surprising to me.  Am I supposed to string a bunch of adjunct gigs forever into a non-retirement?  Am I supposed to endure living on the fringes of a world in which I desperately wanted full membership (even if it probably wasn’t right for me anyway)?  Am I supposed to live in a liminal space betwixt and between being an adult (being judged worthy and a valued member of the community with voting rights) and student (infantilized into one small niche of limited responsibilities) forever?

There are a number of realizations that have made this break with the umbilical cord of academia tolerable (but only after years of pain and crying almost weekly and sometimes daily after losing my first visiting position):

1) The realization that I want more (responsibilities, money, respect, value) than academia can give

2) The realization that this actually is starting to get boring.  There are few jobs in the world requiring higher education that hire you to do one to two primary tasks for the rest of your career.  There is upward mobility in your rank/title, but unless you go into administration, you teach and you research and you serve on variously useful committees.  Unless you loveeeeee these things with a passion (and even if you do) this could start to get boring after a while.  I realized that I want to learn new skills and have varying responsibilities.

3) The myth of being a professor (formed when I was 18-21) does not come even close to the reality of being one.

4) The realization that I want more “normal” colleagues.  You know, the ones who don’t think TV is a sin, who let their kids do kid stuff instead of learning twelve languages before the age of 5, who know how to or are at least willing to bowl?  While I have worked with colleagues on the more “normal” end (and yes, I do realize that there is no such thing as “normal” and that it is a social construction, but let’s be real, it is not typical to have conversations in which people try to “out elite” each other by emphasizing how removed they are from the mediocrity of quotidian life) even then, I just never felt comfortable with most other academics.  Once, when I admitted (that I liken this to confessing a sin is quite telling itself) that I watched American Idol to a small group of colleagues with whom I felt comfortable, I got blank stares.  “Really?”  “You watch that?”  WTF, yes!  (Well I did for the first few seasons.)  It is entertaining watching performers grow, stumble, sing beautifully and horribly.  I spent many therapy sessions being convinced that it was okay to actually be who I was in front of my colleagues without wearing the “mask” of the academic intellectual.

5) Most of my life I have been a loner, but having the entire workload of a research and teaching agenda being completed in isolation is getting tired.  In my sub-fields there is little to no collaborative research or teaching, so everyday I sit alone, read, take notes, write notes, and then teach.  I may not speak to another colleague during the whole day.  They are in their respective offices, reading, taking notes, writing notes, and then teaching.  It is a lonely life and I yearn to work on meaningful projects with others.  I realize that some social interaction is essential for my mental health.

6) I would like to more regularly interact with people who have social skills.  You know, I yearn for small things like saying, “Hi!” when you pass someone you know in the hallway.

7) Faculty entitlement drives me crazy.  I just want to say, “Take ten minutes to leave your bubble and see how less advantaged people live and then compare that to the ten minutes that you have been arguing over the declining quality of pens being stocked by the institution.”  I wish I could share real stories, but you get the idea.

8) Student entitlement drives me crazy.  I just want to say, “Take ten minutes to leave your bubble and see how less advantaged people live and then compare that to the ten minutes that you have spent arguing with me about how it is unfair that I won’t let you hand your paper in late because your parents decided to vacation in the Maldives in the middle of February and you “have to” go and shouldn’t be held responsible.

9)  The realization that I do not want to work for 19 year olds.  I would like to have a more mature supervisor.

I am sure that there are other reasons but this is a start.  I viewed this profession through rose colored glasses that are now becoming clearer.

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