A Case for Marriage

Posted on September 27, 2012 by rglw

I have been reading too many Chronicle of Higher Education pieces on the academic job market (on academia in general, really) and people’s personal lives (grad students getting married and hiring academic spouses).  These articles portray the work/life choices of academics as abominable, and even worse, it feels like the Chronicle is building a case against marriage. Societal views on the importance of marriage may be waning, but the importance of partnership remains strong (at least in my house it does).

I never used to believe in marriage as a concept, though I knew that marriage would validate some other life choices I hoped to make in the future (namely having a family).  The nature of all of our relationships changes over time, so why would we think that we could commit to someone for 20, 30, 40 years without ever struggling to make that relationship work?  I have been alive long enough now to have one very close friend of 27 years (from childhood) and several others close to 20 years (from college).  I have made friends and lost friends, rekindled friendships, and sought totally new friendships.  So I know that it’s not always my relationship with my husband (who I have known for 11 years but been married to for 6) that takes the most work.

Yet in academia, it seems having a partner (and caring about one’s relationship with that person) is a liability, something keeping you from having the most publications or competing for the perfect job in the least geographically desirable place. Considering I live a pseudo-academic lifestyle, these recent Chronicle cautionary tales of marriages put to the test (through graduate school, the job market, and the pursuit of tenure) have me wondering how my own marriage is doing.

One thing I know for certain: being in academia [or any job, really] is more bearable with a partner.  That partner could be a sibling, a parent, a friend, but my partner, my husband, is fully committed to me. [My husband actually hates it when I call him my partner instead of my husband, but that’s how I think of him.  He’ll probably hate these sentences, too.] He has made sacrifices and compromises in his professional life for me (staying at the same job and at the same company).  I have done the same (adjusting some of my future plans for the sake of a stable home life).  We have divided the labor of the household and we do our invisible work to support the success of our family and of our marriage.  This whole operation works for us.  Not seamlessly.  Not always functionally.  We do raise our voices or disagree.  But in the end, we know we need each other.

Out at a children’s consignment store this past weekend with our girls, the owner of the store had watched us discuss, wrangle, and finally decide on some clothes for the kids.  As we checked out, she said to us, “You guys work well together. It’s nice to see that.”  I didn’t think our interactions in the store were all that remarkable.  We were simply being ourselves. But we are making it work in our personal lives, perhaps at the expense of our professional lives.  Academia might not approve, but for now, it’s working out just fine.

Posted in academia, higher education, marriage, work | 4 Comments

On being dedicated to writing…

Posted on September 21, 2012 by rglw

It is really strange having this blog all to myself where no one will find me unless I point them here.  I thought my incredible husband was my only reader, but I could not help myself and starting doing a little shameless self promotion after I finally started posting.  And now I have readers out there somewhere.  (I know because I check the site stats entirely too often).  These readers are probably my sister and a few local friends.  But I will take them–and I hope that they like what I’ve written so far.

Blogging (and writing in general) takes dedication.  I am learning this as I dedicate the next few months to writing and editing my dissertation project with the hopes of being finished by May 2013.  This is not impossible but sometimes it feels like it might be.  And staying dedicated is part of the problem.  I know I have the inner determination to stay dedicated to rogue cheerios, though, because this time last year, I started blogging for myself without the internet.  My most personal blog is a sweet little journal with a Tiffany blue cover and inside there is a page for every day of the year (with five lines below it).  I could not wait to start documenting what was happening (the baby was small–it felt like I was wasting my time if I didn’t).  In one year, I can count on one hand the number of days I failed to make notes to myself about the day’s happenings.  Soon (in less than two weeks) I will be able to look back one year and see everything that was happening.

With that kind of dedication, rogue cheerios is going places.  And in the meantime, I am writing.  Writing writing writing.

Posted in blogging, procrastinating, writing | 2 Comments

The non-athlete weighs in

Posted on September 21, 2012 by rglw

I did not grow up as a sports fan.  Sports—while slightly important to my father—were not part of my childhood experience.  I didn’t play them and I didn’t root for them.  Nowadays, I am only a Red Sox and Patriots fan because that’s what graces my television when baseball and football are in season. And even though my husband works for the biggest sports new network in the country, I pay little attention to what happens with professional or college sports unless, of course, something happens in the world of sports that bleeds over into the realm of news.  And when this happens, I get very indignant about the behavior of professional athletes.  And that happened earlier this week when a story about Toronto Blue Jays shortstop, Yunel Escobar, crossed my desk.

In short, Escobar used his eye black (yes, the space on his cheekbones just below his eyes) to write a particularly hateful message during a recent game.  Apparently, using his eye black for messages is a common practice for Escobar (and others I imagine) and up until this recent game, I suppose the messages have been benign. However, he has been suspended for three games (and subsequently lost approximately $80,000-$90,000 in pay) for writing “You are a faggot” in Spanish under his eyes.

The post-mortem on the incident seems short-lived—partly because Mitt Romney has dominated the news with his remarks about 47 percent of the country playing the victim card and partly because other athletes have also been behaving badly this week. The managerial and coaching staff of the Blue Jays was clearly embarrassed but also quick to pass the buck from athletics on to society as a whole.  They claim to be surprised with Escobar’s actions, saying it was “out of character.” Yet, they recognize that “Baseball is a social institution with important social responsibilities” and agree that Escobar should be sanctioned for violating the norms of the institution.

Escobar himself claims ignorance, explaining his actions by saying, “It’s just something that’s been said around amongst Latinos. It’s not something that’s meant to be offensive. For us, it didn’t have the significance to the way it’s being interpreted right now.”  He goes on to justify his stupidity with further stupidity.  He has “gay friends” including “the person who decorates his house” and “cuts his hair.” Oh, okay. That makes MUCH more sense.  The Toronto Blue Jays organization has donated the lost wages to You Can Play, an organization focused on tolerance in athletics, and Escobar says he’ll participate in an outreach initiative to “educate society about insensitivity and tolerance to others” according to the New York Times.

Here’s another idea: how about Escobar just use his position to be actually sensitive and tolerant of others in society? For the team managers and Escobar to contend that the word “faggot” has no meaning is ludicrous.  It doesn’t?  I think that the closeted kids in middle school or high school in this country would disagree.  I surely think other closeted athletes would disagree, too.  I know athletes are not perfect, but they are public figures, and like other public personas, they are subject to heightened scrutiny.  Should public figures get a pass when they make poor choices first and expect an apology to excuse their bad behavior later?

Posted in homophobia, sports | 2 Comments

Where is the collegial in college?

Posted on September 15, 2012 by rglw

It is surprising that the words college and collegial share a common origin, yet they bear little resemblance to one another in my lived experience. I did not always feel this way about academia, because in the last six years as a graduate student and instructor, I have met some incredible colleagues. This support system was slightly anomalous, because over time, I was surprised to learn that as an academic, your colleagues can be far from collegial.

In a recent blog post on the Chronicle of Higher Education’s website, historian, Alexandra Lord, described how her departure from academia after uprooting her life to take a job far from home and far from familiar territory.  She was responding to another blog post asking job seekers to “embrace your Inner North Dakotan.”  Lord cites many reasons for doubting her decision to follow a seemingly perfect job to an area of the country where she felt isolated from her family, friends, and hometown. The comments posted ranged from mildly critical to completely scathing, blaming Lord for being elitist, pretentious and at worst, not serious about her profession.  I imagine many of the comments were lodged by other academics and under the veil of anonymity, people let their raw, vicious feelings out.

As a budding scholar, I have asked myself many of the questions that Lord broaches in her piece.  Will I find that “perfect” job?  Will I be able to balance work expectations and personal obligations? I had long ago realized that to be a truly exceptional scholar (and by exceptional, I mean high-profile, well-connected, and important to the larger discourse), I would have to make very serious personal sacrifices.  I might have to move far away from my family.  I might alienate my husband (the same man who has supported us financially while I have been in school).  I would have to abandon the hobbies and leisure activities that give me great pride and pleasure.  And, yes, I would have to address the question of family and whether having children would impede my ability to be that model scholar.  I have already had to answer some of these questions for myself and make decisions about my professional life before it has truly begun.  We decided to expand our family while still a graduate student and are happily raising two incredible daughters.  And I struggle constantly with balancing teaching and research to keep my employment options open when I finish my dissertation project later this year.

The tone of the comments confirms some of my suspicions about the manner of colleagues in the academy.  They also confirm my worry that fostering a personal life is incompatible with serving the academy.  Let’s be real, here.  In this new century of academic life, it takes a very dedicated person to enter into academia.  And dedication is not all it takes to be a successful scholar.  It takes the support of loved ones (emotionally and financially) to deal with the self-doubt, the growing debt, and the fear associated with living a “life of the mind.”  Having those loved ones close at hand could make the burden of graduate study and early faculty life more palatable.  Moving far away and isolating oneself in an already isolating line of work seems foolish.  Lord captures the guilt she felt leaving this perfect position, at putting her own personal life before her professional life.  Plenty of other professionals have to face these kinds of decisions.  I think of those in medicine and dentistry, specifically, who must also relocate for their training.  However, residencies are often temporary and these professionals may have agency in deciding where to practice.  Academics are at the mercy of the job market.  And instead of being supportive of one another for the decisions and choices we make in relation to that job market, we post scathing comments about whether our colleagues are “serious” or “pretentious” because they care about having their families close at hand.  I envision a professional life where I am able to be proud of both my professional work and my personal life, where I do meaningful work, and where I have the support of my colleagues in my scholarly pursuits.  Goodness knows, I care about my professional work because it makes the world better for my two little daughters.  So who wouldn’t want to find the right marriage of work and family, of personal and professional?

At the end of the day, all of the griping about work/life balance and the backbiting comments are most disconcerting because as academics, I think we have it pretty good. There are simply not enough jobs available for the number of candidates flooding the market and that has more to do with the political economy of higher education than the availability of candidates to move across the country for a job. In the end, many scholars have more flexibility and freedom than other people in the labor market.  And our work, as a friend recently reminded me, “isn’t life or death” so maybe we should start working like colleagues to improve the field rather than tear each other down.

 

Posted in higher education, work | Leave a comment

“Community” building

Posted on September 10, 2012 by rglw

A tale of two communities:

Our family was invited to a get-together at a neighbor’s house this afternoon.  The get-together was a pseudo-block party but held in someone’s yard rather than publicly on a blocked off street.  During our early years on the block we were disappointed to have missed a few of the block parties that were held around the Jewish holidays because without children or pets to walk we felt cut off from social life on the block—this gathering gave us a chance to meet some other neighbors.  We spent over an hour chatting with some familiar-ish faces and with some of the actual friends we’ve managed to make on the block.  As we left, I said to my husband, “That was really great.  It makes me not want to move.” He looked surprised by my reaction to what he considered a totally ridiculous way to spend the lazy hours of our Sunday afternoon.  “Rachel,” he said, “that [party] would be a reason to move.  In the five years we’ve lived here, we have not met half of those people.”  And he was right.  We know the neighbors on either side of our house and we know the people who live across the street (they all chose not to attend the gathering, I should add), but beyond the friendly wave on the street, no one ever extended a handshake when we moved to the block (save our old neighbors who have since moved away).  This was our community and it was pretty disappointing.

After the party, I quick changed into yoga gear and headed to our pseudo-town center (not the real town center but the new urbanism town center) for an outdoor yoga class celebrating the anniversary of a local, fancy-pants active clothing shop.  I definitely enjoyed the challenge of practicing yoga outside (which I have done only a few times in my on again/off again yoga practice of 10 years).  At the end of the class, after the requisite rest period, the instructor told the crowd, “Take a look around, this is your community.”  There it was again. More community.

When Robert Putnam wrote “Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of the American Community,” he focused on the importance of social capital or social networks in our local community.  His book highlighted the ways that local communities once rich with organizations engaging local citizens (think bowling leagues) have evolved over time, so that people have far fewer ties to one another.  Building community in this technological era is a challenge, and in his subsequent work, Putnam calls for renewed civic engagement.  Technology may facilitate this process, but it also makes us lazier about making face-to-face contact with other people (thus limiting the development of social capital).

It is so easy to resist building social capital.  It is more comfortable to talk to people you know, or people you perceive to be similar.  There was a woman at the pseudo-block party that had lived on our block for 45 years.  45 years.  I spent some time talking with her and I was really glad that I did.  [Sidenote: my mother-in-law would have been proud because she always hated how my husband’s grandmother was ignored at social engagements.]  This woman was a young 75, and I really enjoyed hearing about her family life.  I remember reading Putnam’s book and feeling horrified by the state of local communities.  And here I was, living the same reality.

Thinking I will have to do some more smiling across the lawn over this autumn, because the block is buckling down for the winter ahead which means I probably won’t see these people until next spring.

Posted in community, social capital | 2 Comments

First post. For real this time.

Posted on September 3, 2012 by rglw

Do you need a special kickoff post if you are starting a new blog?  Do you need to explain yourself, what you plan to do, what to expect?  Probably.  I could write about why I am choosing to blog.  I could write about myself and explain the snarky title of my blog.  I could explain my background and my hopes for this particular project.  But an accomplished writer (and blogger) friend of mine told me not to waste my time because I don’t even know what this project will be yet.

Instead, I’ll simply dive in to what’s going on at our house.

It’s Labor Day weekend and the summer is officially over.  It came to a grinding halt over a week ago when the girls went back to their daycare/preschool arrangement full time, and I was thrown into a new job while in the throes of writing my doctoral dissertation.  The summer actually went by in a complete flash.  At the start of the summer, I thought it would drag on forever because after six years of full time graduate school and the addition of two incredible little women, for the first time, my husband and I had to scale back our full-time child-care arrangement in the summertime.  Back in May, after I had defended my dissertation proposal, I was getting closer to the finish line, so we decided.  I stay home with the kids all day Monday and every other afternoon, leaving me four mornings a week to work.  I am most productive in the morning anyway, so I liked the arrangement.  If they kids napped (even half the time), I could conceivably work on projects around the house during naptime, leaving evenings for more academic work if necessary.  But I was worried that I would fall behind, get discouraged, or worse, resent our arrangement (and, in turn, my husband).

Looking back, the kids were incredible.  They were champion nappers (even if they woke up in grumpy moods) and they were up for anything (and flexible when plans got rained out or play dates fell through).  The summer was full of personal successes (managing both kids at the pool, taking them to the farm, the library, wherever) and a few challenges (carrying both children—albeit one strapped to my back—in the middle of a fiery tantrum at the public library).  We met some new parents and their children, fell into and out of routines, and had a mostly fun summer.  When I was feeling slightly panicky about staying on task and on track for my own work, I would look at their little faces and think about how luck I am to have this time with them. Many other mothers I know would gladly trade positions.

It is just this issue—flexible work time and work/life balance—that has been on my mind as I settle back into a more predictable routine. Since I have been in graduate school, I have had a flexible schedule and that schedule has been a blessing and a curse.  Graduate school, much like freelancing, demands few face time commitments once you are past the coursework phase.  The rest of the work is largely self-directed. Not having a brick and mortar office or the expectation of a standard workday might be liberating to some (and most of the time, it is).  In this way, the flexible schedule is a blessing.  But a full summer of reporting to oneself, keeping oneself focused and productive, and giving oneself time off for good behavior is a curse as well.  Most days I would work while my girls slept in the afternoon.  I would also neglect every dirty dish in the sink and the wet swimsuits at the bottom of the pool bag and the laundry piling up.  I could not count this summer as a productive household summer—that’s for sure.

I was sad to bring them back to their preschool where they will now spend most of their week while I work.  I never thought I would be conflicted about this arrangement.  I am not alone in having re-evaluated my professional life or my professional goals.  Two-thirds of working mothers say they would prefer to work part-time.  One mom I met this summer told me she thought she was “at her best” when she was working.  Work (in her case as a teacher) gave her some balance, time away from her house, and the ability to contribute financially to the household.  The allure of the part-time schedule is elusive because of working moms, close to the ¾ of them are working full time.

With the start of this new semester, I am looking forward to some extra space to think and write and to getting settled in a new position while I finish my dissertation work.  I also hope this blog becomes an outlet for my non-dissertation but still sociological musings.  It is too soon to tell.

 

Posted in motherhood, work | Tagged | 3 Comments