Negotiating the Paradox: Adjuncts & Writing

  • 12 Jul 2010 /  adjuncts, teaching, writing

    I’ve mentioned from time to time how little research has been done about the shift in the academic labor force to primarily adjunct faculty that defines us all. I’ve also mentioned how helpful people working in the field have been. This week these two matters came together, as Cindy Whitesel, an adjunct teaching at University of Maryland University College, was kind enough to share a paper with me that she’d co-authored with William Donohue, who teaches at Lincoln University.

     

    The paper, titled “Looking over Shoulders: Sustaining Contingent Faculty in Basic and Developmental Writing Programs,” was presented at CCCC in 2009. The paper was based on a survey, and looked “over the shoulders” of the adjunct faculty who are too often invisible in the academic landscape. As the title indicates, Whitesel and Donohue focused on faculty who taught basic writing, due to the particularly charged nature of the student experience in those classes.

     

    Their survey showed a wide but unsurprising variance in pay for classes: there really is no single marketplace for academic labor. (Someone really should do something like “econographic maps” of the varying pay rates.) Likewise, it was useful that the survey results documented the minimal input these faculty had to school governance, the emotional experience of isolation and neglect, and so on…but it wasn’t surprising.

     

    Given the flooded market for English PhDs, what was surprising were the accounts of hurried, uneven, and incomplete hiring processes. What was even more surprising was that for the most part, these faculty members were not screened for training in this especially challenging area of composition pedagogy. Almost as interesting— and even more depressing— is that while these faculty members often received technical training and support, such as in specific teaching software, they did not receive training in developmental writing pedagogy.  Nor were they oriented to their department’s pedagogical orientations, how the basic writing courses fit into the larger structure, etc. As a result, these faculty members mentioned drawing heavily on past experiences, and to modifying course designs somewhat.

     

    Though Whitesel and Donohue do not say this in so many words, it seems clear that the result is that these schools—from community colleges to private schools—do not have a unified basic writing program, and perhaps not even a real one. Regardless of any vision or up to date plans made by the program heads (here again this is my conclusion, not Whitesel and Donohue’s claim), the failure to train and orient faculty means that students are trained behind the times, albeit with up to date software.

     

    The authors of “Looking over Shoulders” devote their extended conclusion to suggestions on how departments can improve what they’re doing, and to how adjunct faculty can improve their situations (and take care of themselves). All of these suggestions seem compassionate and sensitive. All of them also seem like they’re underestimating the power of the economic forces documented in the authors’ survey. (In other words, I don’t think they’ll work.)

     

    Still, it is nice for us ghosts to be seen sometimes, and I thank Cindy Whitesel and William Donohue for writing “Looking over Shoulders,” and for being so kind as to share a copy with me.

     

     

     

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  • 05 Jul 2010 /  grading, teaching, writing

    Whew! Sorry about being out of breath. I’m rushing to get this done (and as my editor will testify, I’m already a few days late). You see, I was stuck wrestling with the bane of my existence, namely grading.

     

    Since grading papers has consumed all of my waking hours for the last week and a half, I thought I’d try to recycle some of that frustration and make it useful. I know that all teachers have to grade, and that it isn’t specific to adjunct instructors, but we’re the ones teaching too heavy a load for too little money, and so we’re the ones who need the most help grading papers. Here’s the issue. I’m confident in my ability to teach, and sure that I can help students learn to write better, but the time involved in grading. Therefore, I want to learn to grade papers more quickly.

     

    This week I finally did something I should have done long ago: I looked into alternative methods of submitting papers to the plagiarism checker. To be specific, I had been submitting papers one at a time, if I suspected them of plagiarism. Now I’m submitting entire batches, as zipped files. Basic, I know, but it has two advantages: I submit more papers at once, and I delay engaging my judgment about the papers.

     

    I’ve taken a lesson from some more experienced teachers, and have made my policies clearer and stricter. The first action also helps my teaching. The second…only helps my grading. Take file type, for example. I’ve always had a statement in the syllabus indicating which file types were required. I used to contact students who submitted essays in the wrong electronic file type and ask them to re-submit. Now I’ve added a statement that the wrong file types won’t be accepted, and I post reminders of the most common incorrect file types and repeat that they won’t be accepted. When students submit in the wrong file, I don’t grade them. I know it is their responsibility, but I still feel guilty.

     

    I use standardized comments, and that helps. I have also started marking the first few times a grammar or spelling error occurs and indicating that it should be fixed throughout the paper. I know, that sounds basic too, but it took a while.

     

    At this point, though, I’m looking for more ways to cut time. I have fewer options than a tenure track professor, because some of the ways to save time aren’t open to me. I cannot, for example, eliminate assignments in some of the courses, because I must teach the course as assigned.

     

    In those cases, I also can’t follow some of the advice found online, like redesigning assignments for easier grading, or grading for only a few things. (I can in courses I design, of course.) Other tips, such as creating my own rubrics, will apply in some courses (those I design) but not others (where I have to use standardized rubrics). This would speed up grading at some schools, but I’d have to switch methods at other schools. I will see how much this distracts/slows me. 

     

    Other tips were new to me, and I’ll try them: using a timer, using abbreviations for comments (though with automated comments, I’m not sure what that will add), and simply limiting the amount of comments I give. Most tips were pretty familiar (such as identifying what qualities I’m looking for, and/or only grading for the specific qualities asked for).

     

    I’m trying some new things. I’m pricing faster computers and a faster Internet connection. This will get things to and from online classes faster. I’m doing all the techy tips I can find to speed up the computer (deleting programs, etc.)

     

    The main new thing I’ve tried recently is asking students. I asked them if they read certain types of feedback. If they said no, I stopped giving it. When I noticed they were repeating certainly failings, either large (no thesis in the paper) or small (specific spelling/grammar errors), I mentioned to my classes that I felt like I was wasting my time (and theirs) by marking the same things on each paper, and asked how they would prefer to get feedback. Some of them were honest enough to admit they weren’t reading the comments; others generated new incentives for improving their papers. (Sadly, in most cases these would lead to more grading, not less.)

     

    To sum up what I do/what others suggest to grade quickly:

    Define assignments clearly.
    Develop detailed rubrics spelling out expectations at different levels and in different areas.

    Make policies very clear.

    Review sample papers, to get a sense of how they did.  

    Batch check for plagiarism.

    Use auto comments.

    Limit comments

    Focus comments

    Abbreviate comments

    Limit comments on repeated issues.

    Use rubrics.

    Use a timer.

    Ask students what reaches them.

     

    Other ideas to grade more quickly?

    I’ll close by noting that there are numerous online/forum discussions of this issue, but relatively little formal scholarship.

     

     

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  • 28 Jun 2010 /  adjuncts, writing

    So…I’ve been blogging on adjuncts and writing for a year now, and as I start my second year, I want to look back over what I’ve seen, what I’ve learned, and what it seems to mean. As I chew them over, these reflections have coalesced into a few clusters.

     

    The People

    Across the board, the people I’ve interviewed for this blog have been exceedingly helpful and generous with their time. They’ve written lengthy and intelligent responses to numerous questions, and have gone above and beyond through putting me in touch with other people. Since these are all people who have their own writing and teaching to do, I say again, thank you.

     

    The Organizations

    The organizations I’ve contacted have been more uneven. Some, like CCCC, have been as helpful as any individuals. Others, who for the sake of politics I’ll leave unnamed, have been less so: I’ve gotten some bureaucratic answers and virtual closed doors. Please note: If I start an email by saying I’ve read everything on your organizational website, and I have some follow up questions, telling me the answers to my questions is on that website is…less than likely to make me want to join.

     

    Two other observations. First, there are many organizations out there trying to profit from the plight of the adjunct, through offering training and/or certification. These vary wildly in quality, and as a rule they offer no evidence as to the efficacy of their programs beyond the occasional advertising blurb. Second, organizations trying to mobilize adjuncts seem to experience a lot of turnover in the support staff. To me this suggests adjuncts have (surprise surprise) a lot of demands on their time. This means yet another handicap in organizing.

     

    The Changing Economy

    This has been one of the biggest areas of surprise. When I started looking at education as a market, subject to the same global market forces reshaping the rest of the economy, it quickly became clear that simply looking at adjuncts and writing, or trying to find ways for adjuncts to get writing done, was only looking at part of the picture—and at a shifting part of an out-of-date picture at that. Oh, I’ve joined The National Coalition for Adjunct & Contingent Equity, and will be supporting them…but they seem to be doing old school labor organizing, augmented by the Internet, and that seems out of date. With things like outsourcing grading to other countries combine with widespread low paying writing gigs and ever more automated online teaching, the field will continue to mutate, and it will get harder to organize people, rather than easier. Likewise, the likelihood of adjuncts researching and writing their way onto the tenure track will become less likely, not more.

     

    Surprises, Changes, and Lessons

    Perhaps the biggest single surprise I encountered in this first year was how completely the people I spoke to had accepted the state of affairs (for the most part). When I left grad school, it was still assumed that the tenure track was a possibility, and that those of us who had detoured onto the tenure track would keep at our precious research no matter what. Now, I meet a number of adjuncts who not only don’t publish, they seemed a bit baffled by the question. This in turn helped me realize just how crucial the institutional context is, and how little attention is paid to it.

     

    A related issue is that there seems to be few people really examining how this change in academic labor is influencing, well, everything: academic freedom, education quality, scientific testing, diversity, etc. There are a host of papers waiting to be written here.

     

    And the final lessons from a year of writing this blog are personal. This blog has helped me remember how much I love writing, and how much I’d denied resenting avoidable crap. I don’t resent the work involved with teaching, or even having to teach a lot—but the situational crap is draining me.

     

     

     

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  • 21 Jun 2010 /  adjuncts, blogging, tenure, writing

    AA 52 More Perspectives

     

    I’d like to continue last week’s process of breaking out of my own habitual limits by seeing the topic of adjuncts and writing from other perspectives.

     

    Consider the word from eHow, a popular site devoted to telling people how to do just about everything. eHow offers advice on “How to Become an Adjunct Professor.” This brief article is to the point and useful as far as it goes. It is also honest, noting that you can’t really live on adjunct teaching alone. The author is a composition instructor, freelance writer, and entrepreneur. I make a few observations, some of them snarky. First, I note that no mention of writing is made (big surprise). Second, I note that no mention is made of the relationship between adjunct positions and tenured positions. These seem to exist in different universes. Third, I note that the advice on getting tenure is given by someone who doesn’t have it—and the advice on publishing academic articles and publishing in scientific journals is boilerplate, minimally helpful, and given by an author who does not, as far as I can tell, publish in either. Fourth, I note that a number of my students use eHow as a reference for the content of their essays and for guidance on how to write. Fifth, I note ashamedly the grammar glitches in the materials written by the author of the guide on becoming an adjunct (less the article than other materials).

     

    Consider the word from the Adjunct Law Prof Blog, which points us to the ongoing issue of an applicant for a tenure track position who sued for discrimination in hiring practices when she didn’t get the job. I note that the blogger says, “It is very difficult-close to impossible in fact-to obtain a FT tenure track gig” and that getting a legal writing gig is almost as difficult as the practice professionalizes.  I also note, reluctantly, that this should be “loses” a lawsuit.

     

    Consider the word from Prawfsblawg, a collaborative blog from a number of professors at wildly varying schools around the nation. A recent post there discusses how to become an adjunct professor. Having multiple contributors to the blog helps widen our perspective, as different bloggers point out different ways writing would and wouldn’t count for would be legal adjuncts.

     

    And finally, consider this: this is my 52nd weekly entry here. That’s a year. In the posts to come, I’ll continue looking outward, but I’ll also look back, to see what I’ve learned in a year of writing this blog.

     

     

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  • 14 Jun 2010 /  adjuncts, research, writing

    Slipping Down the Knowledge Funnel

     

    I recently read Roger Martin’s 2009 book The Design of Business. It’s a lovely book, and I recommend it highly for anyone interested in innovation, creativity, and/or understanding organizational structures.

     

    Early in The Design of Business Martin introduced a conceptual schema to describe knowledge development. Think of all discoveries, Martin suggests, as starting with a mystery. Someone observes something about the world that he or she doesn’t understand. It could be a universal question that’s interwoven with the nature of the universe (as the mystery of why things fall to the ground is interwoven with natural laws), or it could be something much more localized and specific, such as how to address a specific market demand.

     

    The mystery is the broad end of what Martin calls the “knowledge funnel.” At this point, no one really knows how to answer the question, or even how to phrase it productively. The second stage is the heuristic stage, where “an incomplete yet distinctly advanced understanding” of the former mystery has been articulated (p. 12). At this stage, you can act to solve the problem, but it takes a fair degree of expertise. Some mysteries, like the creation of art, are never systematized beyond the level of the heuristic, and always require expertise among practitioners.

     

    Our understanding of many mysteries, however, can and is taken further. We reach the third stage of the knowledge funnel, that of the “algorithm.” At this stage, the mystery is completely understood. It is reduced to the level of step by step directions which anyone can follow and get the same results. This is a great boon to industry, and to society. It took a master craftsman to make most things in a pre-industrial age, but workers on an  assembly line can create far more advanced and dependable products while bringing a much lower level of craft to the job.

     

    Martin does not discuss educational systems in this book. (He is dean of the Rotman School of Management at the University of Toronto, but his focus is on the corporate world.) However, when I read this book, I couldn’t help but apply this model to the situation of adjunct faculty. During our training, we are grounded in the heuristics of our disciplines. Our dissertations are demonstrations of our mastery of those heuristics, though there’s always the hope that we’ll rise to the level of the mystery, and we both study and venerate those who do. Tenure is awarded for successful application of a disciplinary heuristic; academic status is won through mastering mysteries.

     

    And…adjunct labor focuses almost entirely on the level of the algorithm. Class structures and materials are often mandated by the institution, while individual adjuncts often repeat the same course materials time and again in a kind of self-defense, because they simply have no time to otherwise. We may rise to the level of the heuristic when teaching, as it’s not possible to totally routinize human interaction, but we don’t reach the level of mystery.

     

    Martin argues that individual organizations who come to depend too highly on algorithms will eventually be left behind: their focus on exploiting knowledge while leave them vulnerable to those who create it in new areas. I would add that this can apply to an entire field, namely higher education. It will be bypassed if it defaults on knowledge creation, which it does through cutting adjuncts out of the mystery loop.

     

    I would add a second point, one implied but not stated in Martin’s book: delving into the mystery rejuvenates. It is why the Picassos of the world stay young even as their bodies age. In cutting adjuncts out of the mystery loop, and relegating them to the realm of the algorithm, higher education is cutting us out of the spiritual fountain of youth.

     

     

     

     

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  • 07 Jun 2010 /  adjuncts, blogging, grading, publishing

    As we all try to make sense of the state of adjunct faculty, and try to write, it is easy to get caught up in the immediate: to focus on one’s own personal frustrations, or to step up no more than a single category and to consider adjuncts as such.

     

    That’s understandable, but it does not lead to a wider view of the issues. Today I’d like to touch on three attempts to put the situation into perspective.


    The first is a recent story in The Chronicle of Higher Education on outsourcing feedback on written assignments. Essays are sent electronically from colleges in the United States to “India, Singapore, and Malaysia” as well as to some graders elsewhere in the U.S.  These grading specialists provide written commentary on the essays; the company providing this “Virtual-TA” service bills per essay graded.

     

    This indicates that adjuncts are not just struggling for equality with the tenure track faculty at their employing institutions. They are workers in a global economy, and to the extent that services such as this catch on (and run smoothly), they will raise the pressure on adjunct writing teachers.  After all, there is a small step from virtual teaching assistant to virtual adjuncts.


    The second perspective comes to us courtesy of the Education Writers Association (EWA).  For more than half a century, EWA has labored as a professional organization to raise the level of writing about education. Their website makes a national survey on education reporting available for free here. While this dates from 2006, and is therefore a bit dated, it is worth reviewing because of the patterns shown in what gets written about. In 2005, over 60% of stories published “
    were about personnel/institutional issues, academics, and finance.” And what got written about least? “Grade inflation, class size, and faculty unionization,” the last two of which being topics directly impacting adjunct faculty. That leads to a second perspective: we’re not news. Our issues are not being addressed because they aren’t being written about. Therefore, if you want anyone to even know about them, you need to sit down and type. Let your next adjunct writing be a letter to the editor, the state legislature, a professional organization, or a local college.

     

    And the third perspective? A positive one.  The Hechinger Report is a recently announced news organization that will be covering education. They promise to report and blog regularly on community colleges, that pervasive but under-discussed element in the American college scene. I for one look forward to it, and will be commenting on their stories and post often.

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  • 31 May 2010 /  awards, research, writing

    My recent posts have ranged over publications and interviews; it seems time to bring this back to me for an embarrassing confession: the common criticisms of adjunct faculty are becoming true about me.

    That is to say, I’ve heard it said/seen it written that adjuncts don’t stay current in their field the way that tenure track faculty do. If we’re playing blame the adjunct, the reasons are a lack of initiative, other interests, a lack of discipline, or just a failure to really be a true scholar. If we’re looking at institutional and structural reasons, we might point to lack of time, lack of institutional support (money, time again, interest), etc. Whatever the causes, I recently realized that I’m guilty.

     

    In graduate school, my scholarship was idiosyncratic at times, as I followed my interests down whatever path seemed appropriate. However, my standards were very high, even exhaustive. I thought little of reading 100 examples of something to make sure my points about it were well-grounded. I also sought out new faculty members with the conscious intent of making sure I knew where my field was going, what the latest research was, and what new theories or methods had emerged. A sense of excitement, even zest, accompanied this scholarship, and at peak times I felt a growing sense of mastery.

     

    Now, my scholarship is exceedingly pragmatic. I research, and regularly, but for functional reasons. When I’m publishing, it is to find something that does what I need for a biography, a review, a study guide. I find what I need, and I stop. I have to, because I have to move on to the next thing, which is often unrelated to the thing I was just on. This rarely feels like my choice, as I’m researching whatever the next course preparation I’ve been given is, or whatever freelance assignment I’ve taken on. As I think about it, I probably do more research than I did in graduate school, and encounter more that’s new— but I do so in a more haphazard fashion. Rather than excitement, I most often feel anxiety, which translates into words as something like “I’ve gotta find this, and now, okay, on to the next.”

     

    My research used to be intrinsic. Now it is, dare I say it, alienated at times? In a round about way, I suspect this makes me a better teacher. This is, after all, how most of my students experience research: as a series of tasks imposed from the outside, tasks that aren’t connected to one another.

    But if you asked me what was new in my field/fields, I wouldn’t know how to answer you. And if I were a department looking to hire a cutting edge scholar, I wouldn’t hire me.

    Can the rest of you adjuncts do so? If so, can you share a few ideas about how you keep your writing focused on that new edge of scholarship?

    Thanks.
    Greg

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  • 24 May 2010 /  adjuncts, awards, research, writing

    I recently wrote about wordriver (and my ambivalence regarding it). This week I’d like to touch on a markedly different publication, Kairos. Kairos is subtitled “A Journal of Rhetoric, Technology, and Pedagogy.” They’ve been around for more than a decade, which means they were publishing about the intersection of computers and rhetoric back in the early days, at least in academia.

     

    Kairos is a useful publication. They’re flexible, as they must be to analyze a topic that is being created as they look at it. I’ve generally found the folks there friendly. (I wrote a few conference reviews for them back in the digital stone age; you’ll find them in the archives.) As people and scholars, they’re committed to good teaching, and to examining the role computers play in good teaching.

     

    More to the point for our purposes, they also give the Kairos Award for Graduate Students and Adjuncts. These awards are given for teaching, but also for service and research. Besides the honor, they carry with them a $500 prize.

     

    They’ve taken over the responsibility for these rewards from Lore, which is largely defunct (and was discussed in this blog). The funding for the award comes from Bedford-St.Martin’s Press. One of Kairos‘ editor, Erin Karper, who’s currently coordinator for the Kairos awards,  indicated they grouped graduate students and adjuncts together for the award because neither group is properly recognized for their contributions.

     

    The award also fits with Kairos‘ purposes. Doug Eyman, senior editor at Kairos, indicated traditional tenure evaluations often fail to recognize those working in genuinely new areas (like on computers and rhetoric). (Eyman, who is an Assistant Professor of English at George Mason University, also mention that most members of the Kairos staff when the award was founded were either graduate students or adjuncts. [He was an adjunct.])

     

    You’ll find a list of the past award winners here, and I’ll return to comment on this year’s winner or winners after they’re announced in May.

     

    For now, I’ll just say that I’m glad this award exists, and make a few observations. First, I’m not surprises that innovative scholarship suffers in the tenure evaluation process…but I’m not precisely sure what to do about it. Second, when I looked into the past winners, I found them academically active and successful, which is not something that can be said for all winners of adjunct teaching awards, alas. (I know this is a small sample, but it is still encouraging.) Third, if you look at some of the winners’ websites, you’ll find them clean and well-organized, even snazzy. These are people who know how to use current technology well. And fourth, that means they’re staying in academia because they want to be here. Not a bad tally.

     

     

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  • 17 May 2010 /  adjuncts, writing

    I’m not sure how I feel about wordriver, but I’m glad it exists, and I’m wildly intrigued.

    You see, wordriver is a new (as of 2009) literary journal. Like many other little magazines, wordriver publishes short stories, poetry, and personal essays. However, as far as I know, wordriver is unique in one way. You see, wordriver publishes only the work of adjunct (and part-time) faculty members.

     

    Hmm.

     

    In case you’re wondering, that’s the sound of me looking at a blank screen. On one hand, I want to stand up and cheer. Yes! If they exclude you (and me) from the game, we’ll start our own game. Go team!

     

    On the other hand, unless they are looking for creative writing jobs, fiction publications won’t get an adjunct a job, and writing poetry instead of scholarship won’t even show up on a job application. And, even more to the point, literary journals don’t have any barrier against adjuncts publishing there. For the most part, they don’t even care. They might care about another set of credentials, such as awards, communicated in a cover letter, but not tenure status. So, even if it succeeds, what’s wordriver succeeding at?

     

    They say they’re looking for “work that demonstrates the creativity and craft of adjunct/part-time instructors in English and other disciplines.” Fair enough, and an article in the Chronicle indicates that editor Beth McDonald had been seeking ways to celebrate adjunct literary creativity for years before starting this journal.

     

    At that goal, this would seem an easy success…but at what game? Will publication here be viewed as highly as at journals who don’t limit submissions? I’m not sure. I think we’ll have to wait to see if any of the pieces published in wordriver get recognized by annual “best ___ of the year” collections or win awards.

     

    I will say this: the contributors’ biographies are impressive to the point of being heartbreaking. The schools they studied at and publication histories make it clear they deserve more than they’re getting professionally.

    But is wordriver it?

    Hmm.

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  • 10 May 2010 /  adjuncts, publishing, teaching, writing

    Last week we shared the first portion of an interview with Dr. Kirk Astle, Director of College Writing at Baker College Online. This week we conclude that interview.

     

    Adjunct Advocate: How much of the composition faculty at Baker is full-time?

     

    Dr. Astle: At Baker College Online I am the only full time Composition faculty member.

     

    Adjunct Advocate: What challenges do you encounter guiding faculty in an online program?

     

    Dr. Astle: The college is a dynamic place with several initiatives aimed at improving many aspects of its curriculum and mission so there are many compelling ideas affecting the teaching and learning of writing that I put before faculty for their consideration and input.  The challenge is collecting and accurately representing the faculty’s input to Baker initiatives and some of my questions.  For instance, on writing-related issues, I have solicited feedback  on how and why faculty provide the types of feedback on participation that they do to get a sense of what may be a wide array of teaching in the college’s main discursive venue, the Discussion Board.  I think this kind of writing is overlooked in formal assessments and may need more research and scrutiny.  The Discussion Board is a common discursive venue cutting across all disciplines at Online, and I feel that teaching students how to engage in that forum is paramount to learning to write effectively for various audiences and purposes while also serving students in future courses and their careers.  Guiding the faculty erupts out of student and faculty needs, and the challenge is accurately identifying or prioritizing what those needs are and then determining how best to address them.  I try to guide based on those needs rather than anything I devise or project in advance.

     

    Another challenge is my relative anonymity.  Faculty are beginning to get a sense that I’m here to help them in their jobs and profession.  Only now, after eight months, do some faculty seem comfortable emailing me questions.

     

    Adjunct Advocate: What challenges do you encounter guiding adjunct faculty?

     

    Dr. Astle: See above.

     

     

    Adjunct Advocate: Do your adjunct faculty members publish scholarly works?  

     

    Dr. Astle: Yes, but it is not required as a condition of employment.

     

    Adjunct Advocate: Non-scholarly works (such as fiction or poetry)?

     

    Dr. Astle: Yes, but it is not required as a condition of employment.


    Adjunct Advocate: What does Baker do to support adjunct faculty scholarship?

     

    Dr. Astle: To my knowledge, Baker Online does not specifically support adjunct faculty scholarship but it does support continued advancement in pedagogy demonstrated by the College Writing Conference (CWC) and inviting faculty to participate in the annual Faculty Conference, which addresses discipline-specific issues and invites faculty to participate in the life of the institution.  The System president Jim Cummins and Vice President for Academics Denise Bannan both scored papers using the System-wide essay rubrics during the day long CWC.  Empathizing with the writing faculty’s immense grading task, Mr. Cummins commented on the extraordinary amount of work it took to effectively evaluate student essays using the rubrics and demonstrated his complete support for the faculty’s move to increase rigor in the English courses.

     

    The Baker System also offers funding for faculty projects, which “must enhance the faculty member’s knowledge and teaching or otherwise improve student learning at Baker College and be consistent with the College’s Mission and Purposes.”  In these terms, this funding addresses more needs than supporting faculty scholarship alone.  The funding comes from Baker’s Jewell Educational Fund, providing a total of $150,000 for faculty projects to be implemented during the 2010-2011 fiscal year.  (Faculty are defined in this offer as those “currently employed as a Baker College faculty member” and who “deliver per year courses totaling at least 24 credits.”).

     

    Baker also provides the Employee Scholarship that offers part-time faculty, after six-months of consecutive employment, the opportunity to take up to eight credit hours per academic quarter at no charge—but no more than 24 credit hours per academic year on “an available” basis.  I’ve included the link below.

     

    https://www.baker.edu/departments/hr/ininfo/hrform2.cfm?ee_info_cat=Forms

    2009-2010 Baker College Center Employee Scholarship- Undergraduate Courses

     

    Adjunct Advocate: From your perspective as Director of College Writing for Baker College Online, what would your ideal be for an online college writing faculty? (I’m asking everything from what contracts would be like to what training would be like—an open-ended invitation.) And can you say a few words about why this would be your ideal?

     

    Dr. Astle: One of the many pleasant and encouraging surprises of working at Baker College is that the college shares many of my professional ideals.  For instance, one ideal I have is to help increase the number of full-time professors in General Education and in English specifically and this would necessitate increasing the support staff necessary for the effective functioning of the institution. Another ideal I have is to support more effectively faculty and student writing by offering a fully functional, appropriately credentialed and trained staff for a seamlessly integrated Online Writing Center.  And since the question is a bit of a blank check, my ideal would also include ensuring that the faculty’s teaching experiences would be 100% effective, enjoyable, and rewarding in every sense of those words.  I think attaining this ideal can come only under the college’s continued commitment to including faculty of all statuses in its decision-making across the college’s many facets.  I think this makes perfect sense, since the faculty are the experts in their fields.  Additionally, I would like to see an undergraduate research initiative across all disciplines launched to help students become self-directed learners and contributors to their career fields as “co-workers in the kingdom of culture,” to borrow language from W. E. B. DuBois’ The Souls of Black Folk.  I’m taking DuBois’ words as partly synonymous with the notion that undergraduate research initiatives help students assume more accountability for their learning while developing them as leaders and supporting their contributions toward a better society.  I would like to see continued efforts to support faculty scholarship and creativity because they ground education and they have substantial impacts in the classroom as instructors transfer their energies to the students when they teach their scholarship.  In other words, one ideal I have is to advocate the aggressive support for the symbiotic relationship in higher education between scholarship, teaching, and service.

     

    Adjunct Advocate: As you know, this blog focuses on adjunct faculty and writing, and addresses all aspects of those topics (everything from tips for how to write better to reflections on adjuncts may teach differently from full time faculty). Consider this an open-ended invitation: do you have any thoughts on this matter?

     

    Dr. Astle: I regretfully have to defer because the open-ended nature gives me little to respond to and would generate my own meandering thoughts on largely personal and necessarily ill-defined topics.  Please accept my apologies.  However, as a member of the professional organization the Modern Language Association (MLA), as I am assuming you are as well, I do concur with the “MLA Statement on the Use of Part-Time and Full-Time Adjunct Faculty Members.”  Please find the link to that statement below:

     

    http://www.mla.org/statement_faculty

     

     

    Adjunct Advocate: Thank you very much for your reflective answers, Dr. Astle.

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