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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  • 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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  • 26 Apr 2010 /  adjuncts, teaching, writing

    Did anyone else waste their youth? I mean, does anyone else remember Mad Magazine’Spy vs. Spy cartoons? Created by Antonio Prohias, these cartoons starred two sharp featured caricatures of spies, the black spy and the white spy. They were continually plotting against one another, trying to thwart ambitions, disrupt plans, and, in touch closer to clichés about anarchism than spies, blow each other up with lit bombs held behind their backs.

     

    Spy vs. Spy was a lot more fun than Adjunct vs. Adjunct, which is a game I’ve recently found myself playing. You see, one of the schools I adjunct for has a graduate program. I shifted to teaching in it rather than teaching undergraduate classes in an attempt to escape the waste that accompanies education (excuses, plagiarism, etc.). Talk about naïve…but that’s another story.

     

    What that means is, I sometimes find myself teaching a course in which one or more of the students is an adjunct faculty member. Sometimes they are adjuncts elsewhere, and have the explicitly stated desire of being a tenured faculty member somewhere. Sometimes they are adjuncts at the same school I teach on the graduate level for.

     

    In both cases, I find myself straining to not, well, attack them. Fortunately, the desire is overt enough to be easy to detect and block, but it is alarming. This desire has two primary forms.

     

    First, I find myself wanting to help (or make that “help”) the students in question by deflating their dreams. I want to explain how unlikely it is that they land such a position.


    Second, I find myself particularly hard on their writing—and God save them if they teach English /composition. I find myself pouncing on every grammar error and every clumsy phrasing. There’s a kind of “How dare you aspire to a tenured position when you can only write like this” subtext to my parenthetical comments. Fortunately, I type these comments, rather than scribbling on actual paper, and that means most of them can be deleted, so that they only stain my soul, not theirs.

     

    Because barely submerged under the desire to help is a particularly gnawing form of self-doubt. I didn’t get a tenure track position, and while I know the statistics I want to show on their heads about how the academic labor market is changing, part of it wonders if it is me.

     

    Likewise, when I’m wondering if this adjunct’s writing is good enough, I’m actually critiquing my own.


    Adjunct vs. Adjunct? Both sides are me.

    Greg

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  • One of the factors defining academic writing, and distinguishing it from writing in the rest of the world, is that it is graded. Grading is an area of ongoing debate in academia, especially grading writing. Do a search on grading and you’ll find discussions of methods, criteria, standards—as well as a steady string of anti-plagiarism screeds and the occasional wincing humorous (or is it “humorous”?) essay on student bloopers and accidental self-exposure. Grading is time-consuming, exhausting, and marked by student resistance in particularly vivid ways.

    One of the more complicated and under-examined aspects of the swamp that is grading is how it is changing as adjuncts make up an increasingly larger percentage of academics. This change shows up in multiple areas.

    I teach for more than one school, and each school wants to serve its students well. However, what “well” means varies according to context. What’s more, several of the schools also want to help their adjuncts teach well, and several of them want uniformity across the curriculum. In practice, this means providing things like rubrics to help adjuncts grade.

    That’s all well and good, but it is another place where good intentions lead…well, let’s just say elsewhere. I’ll focus on rubrics as an example. Each school that I teach for that provides rubrics provides two things: flawed rubrics and standards I don’t completely believe in. Both are understandable. It’s hard to imagine a perfect grading rubric, and it’s equally unlikely that your basic cranky and opinionated composition instructor (me) would agree fully with anyone else’s standards. However…there’s also a third factor in place, and a fourth, and a fifth, and maybe more.

    The third factor is that the rubrics I’m using aren’t just imperfect (that’s the nature of reality). They are someone else’s imperfection, to the point where there are items on the grading scale I don’t understand. My rule of thumb is, if I don’t understand it, my students likely don’t understand it.

    The fourth factor is that these rubrics come from different sources at the different schools, and those sources are often a) collective, b) unknown, and c) likely to change over time. In practice, this means that there is no one to ask if I don’t understand a rubric I’ve been given in most instances, because those handing it on don’t know how it was produced, or know who wrote it but that person is gone, etc.

    The fifth factor is that only one of the schools I teach for (Baker College) has been willing to pay for the time needed for the adjuncts to grade as a group and achieve some degree of uniformity. That means that in practice, even clearly articulated rubrics that I think I understand vary wildly in application. (For example, I’ve been told to fail students for 1 plagiarized line and to not deduct points for anything below 16 percent plagiarism…by administrators in the same school. I’ve also had another administrator tell me that an A in spelling and mechanics meant a paper was excellent, and a B meant it was good, C average and so on…but when I quantified that, I was told that 40 spelling errors wouldn’t lower the grade below A in that category. )

    Taken together, the result is grading writing that is inorganic to the instructor and more time-consuming than allowing adjuncts to generate their own rubrics. It creates the side effects of control (fear of failure, a sense of being watched) without any of the raised quality or uniformity it is intended to produce. It is also, quite frankly, a model of wretched scholarship. These rubrics are written by…someone. Somewhere. They appear and are to be applied, like Wikipedia entries, but with the power to distort your GPA.

    Don’t get me wrong. I had tenured faculty do a wretched job of grading my writing on both the undergraduate and graduate level. Some of those experiences are legendary. But those standards and experiences were not institutionally imposed. They were the result of quirky faculty members.

    This new structure of writing grading creates a kind of weary and bureaucratic hypocrisy for the adjuncts who grade writing.

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  • 16 Mar 2010 /  adjuncts, teaching

    Recently I dipped in to the January 11, 2010 edition of the world’s best magazine, I mean, The New Yorker. There I found “After the Blowup,” an essay by John Cassidy about how the various schools of laissez-faire economics are dealing with—or failing to deal with—recent economic crises. As author of How Markets Fail, Cassidy is well-positioned to write such an article. While the article is worthwhile in itself, I mention it primarily as a springboard.

    When Cassidy was talking with Richard Posner, Posner was criticizing academic economists for their lack of realism, and for their failure to learn from the recent events. Posner said,”…market correctives work very slowly in dealing with academic markets. Professors have tenure…They have techniques that they know and are comfortable with.”

    While part of this unintentionally ironic—Posner seems not realize just how many faculty don’t have tenure or the option of pursuing it—the core sentiment is strikingly valid and useful. As I’ve commented on in past posts, the ideal functions of tenure are well-known. They allow academics to follow their own visions, researching long term and/or unpopular projects.

    Posner, though, has articulated one down side to tenure, and to the model of the tenured academic. Once tenured, an academic can solve problems no one else cares about. He or she can continue to embrace theories that events have left behind, or fail to even notice the emergence of difficult counter-examples.

    This could offer an alternative model for the adjunct scholar. Rather than following the private vision, follow the public one. Rather than moving independently of the market, ride its momentum. This might mean writing about brand new books, using new media, and so on. Rather than publishing in academic journals— so long carefully insulated from the economics of publishing— publish…elsewhere. This might mean corporate publishing venues, it might mean artistic non-profits, it might mean community papers, self-publishing, etc. And rather than following one’s own vision and assuming (rather arrogantly and Platonically) that it is right, allow your vision to emerge through interaction, dialogue, and synthesis.

    After all, the current adjunct situation was created through market forces; why not turn them, at least somewhat, to our advantage?

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  • 04 Jan 2010 /  adjuncts, research, teaching

    One of the things that struck me when I started working on this blog was how little research had been done into the great sea change of academic labor that is using adjuncts instead of tenure-track faculty. However, little research is not no research, and this week I went looking for studies related to adjuncts and writing.

    I was fortunate enough to locate papers by Jeffrey Klausman, who has been Writing Program Administrator at Whatcom Community College  since 2007. Klausman had presented a paper on the role of adjunct faculty in writing programs at the 2009 TYCA-PNW and another on the same topic at CCCCs. An article on the subject is scheduled for publication in the journal Teaching English in the Two-Year College, and Klausman and was gracious enough to both share a copy of the paper with me and to answer a few questions about his research.

    As is often the case with discussions of pedagogy, Klausman starts his study with a brief contextualizing narrative. Interestingly, this account includes a mention that when he began his research, Klausman found “almost nothing” on how depending on adjunct faculty affects writing programs.

    To address this, and to give himself tools for his new position as administrator of a writing program (at a community college depending heavily on adjuncts), Klausman began his own research on the subject. He developed a survey (using Survey Monkey) to review adjunct attitudes on their relationship to writing programs. The survey covered a fairly wide range of factors, such as how much voice adjuncts should have on curriculum and if the administrator of their writing program valued adjuncts.

    When I asked him why he started with the attitudes, rather than other places (such as, for example, affects on student learning, Klausman indicated it was to deal with specific issues he’d faced, namely difficulty implementing changes in his own program due to resistance from the adjuncts. (This resonates well with my experience as an adjunct.)

    His initial findings were useful but not overly surprising: adjuncts wanted an equal voice in developing programs, wanted to be respected, and enjoyed their work, but found the conditions under which they worked to be the main obstacles to improving that work. More interesting were the results of the follow up interviews Klausman did to address seemingly contradictory responses to one area of the initial survey: that adjuncts reported feeling respected but undervalued at the same time. These interviews exposed that adjuncts often have little or no say in the writing programs they teach for, and little or no loyalty as a result—but that those who do feel loyal and respected.

    This seems to arise not from agreement or disagreement with the program’s actual decisions or from clashes with individual administrators, but rather from institutional structures and attitudes: adjuncts who were invited to play full roles in programs often did so, while adjuncts who were treated as disposable labor…felt like it.

    While the survey and interviews focused on adjunct writing faculty, and on their relations to writing programs, in this case, I have to suspect the results would apply to other disciplines as well. Is there, I have to ask, anything specific about adjuncts teaching writing—or do working conditions trump all? I’ll keep looking.

    In the meantime, thank you, Dr. Klausman. I’ll be looking for your future work.

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  • Part of what I’ve been doing in this blog is noodling around the questions of how adjunct writers’ circumstances affect their writing (and writing teaching), and, by implication, to what extend adjuncts are working in special circumstances.

    Well, here’s one answer to that last question: Bedford /St. Martin’s thinks that adjuncts work in different circumstances. At least, that’s the implication in their online publication Lore. Interestingly, Lore is “a journal for adjunct and graduate student teachers of writing” but it is “edited by TAs, adjuncts, and assistant professors.” I’m tempted to hare off down the “What, no senior faculty need help teaching writing?” trail, but truth be told, comparatively few of them teach writing courses that this is probably simple realism on Bedford St. Martin’s part. So, start with what this dedication implies: graduate students and adjuncts are classed together. It suggests they may also need the most help, and perhaps that they’re the ones doing the composition instruction. (It’s certainly the case at all schools I’ve been associated with.)

    What, then, is Lore, why does it exist, and what does it do? The history of Lore can be found in A Journal Built Around Lore” by Nick Carbone. There Carbone reviewed Lore’s initial history in 2001-2004, as well as a 2009 special issue. Since then, Lorehas become part of Bedford St. Martin’s Bits, a multi-author blog providing advice on teaching composition. (That this new blog still acknowledges the role of the adjunct in composition can be seen in the fact that the blog includes Adjunct Advice from Gregory Zobel.)

    The idea behind Lore—creating a “journal built around lore”— is an intriguing one. On one hand, it represents a kind of theoretical and perhaps political breakthrough: scholarship focusing on pedagogy is undervalued, and so emphasizing it challenges that. The day-to-day elements of teaching that show up in lore is highly situated, and valorized personal experience: both of these depend on relatively recent theoretical structures to be considered worthy of academic writing. On the other hand, my cynical side suggests that Lore may simply have not been necessary until now—that it is a product of the fragmenting academic workplace. (It is definitely a sign of a changing academic workplace, both in the fact it is electronic and in being associated with a publisher.)

    My speculations aside, Lore is highly useful. Victoria Sandbrook, who is blog manager at Bedford St. Martin’s, indicated that the site’s getting a lot of traffic, and that folks are staying long enough to indicate that they’re reading, not just bouncing in and away. The publication’s being cited, and people are linking/referring to it.

    I’m going to take a simpler approach and claim that Lore and Bitsare both useful as personal testimony. I set out to simply sample the various blogs of Bits—and found myself taking notes for assignments and handouts. Some of the blogs won’t be useful for me, but others, including those I initially dismissed, will be. The best example is Barclay Barrios and his tips on teaching composition. I’ve been teaching writing for around 20 years now, and was highly skeptical that I’d learn anything.

    I was very wrong. The post from 11/6, on guiding students through paragraph organization through a formula, was immediately useful. I’ll tinker with it, but I’ll be applying it…within the week. What’s more, the idea behind the tip led me to consider if I could create similar heuristics for any other areas where students regularly face challenges.

    Some of the tips are pretty pedestrian, but they’d all be useful for the graduate student portion of the audience: new teachers need tips on even the basics. As to what might make this applicable to adjunct instructors primarily, or especially, it would have to be the brief tip format. These pedagogical nuggets can be read in a few minutes and applied immediately, anywhere in any course. You don’t have to have a lot of time to introduce a theoretical frame—you don’t even have to have control of your own course design. In that, Bitsis even more useful than Lore itself. Lore’sarticles and forums provide considerable useful perspective on being an adjunct, but they aren’t as immediately applicable as Bits. Taken together, though, very useful. Thanks, Bedford St. Martin’s.

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  • 14 Dec 2009 /  teaching, time management, writing

    Blogging is a lot like teaching. You start with one project, and then you add another and another, until you’re juggling one more topic than you can track, and you hope that whoever is watching is enjoying the show, or at least paying attention.

    Along those lines, some follow-ups on earlier topics. First, I’ve touched on adjuncts working in the law; those interested in this field might look into the Legal Writing Institute’s upcoming workshop for adjuncts on December 4, 2009 (in both Chicago and New York).

    Second, still no word about the results of the adjunct writing faculty survey. I’m expanding my net.

    Third, and more locally, the adjunct writing conference I reported on earlier continues to bear fruit: faculty are more involved in discussing curriculum at Baker College, and there’s more discussion related to how to improve writing than before. On a related note, other schools who use adjunct faculty extensively have been having such conferences for a longer time. Consider University of Maryland University College (UMUC), who regularly hires adjuncts for online, domestic, and overseas positions. They have had several years of annual summer conferences on writing. You can find a brochure here, and a discussion of the experience here. I’ll also note that this last discussion is found in UMUC’s DE Oracle, an ezine dedicated to instructional quality. Yes, lots of schools have them; this one seems more genuinely committed.

    And now, the grapes.

    Sour grape #1 is standard for academics for hundreds of years: This has been a hard week as far as the relationship between grading student writing and completing my own. This week I had to deal with a complaint from a student that her paper wasn’t that heavily plagiarized, and so shouldn’t get so low a grade, a complaint from a second student that she didn’t know what she was doing wrong…that let me know she couldn’t find my comments on her paper, and a complaint from a third that I had corrected too many grammar errors on his paper and not told him how he could make his writing clearer. (Oh, the irony.) All this came while my own writing projects sat untouched on the shelf…

    Sour grape #2, is standard for adjuncts right now, and a great example of the elephant in the corner. I’m serving on a committee for one of the schools I teach for. It’s a paid gig, which is good, and it allows me access to some of the planning discussions, which is useful if disturbing. In the most recent discussion, one issue that was raised was how to make our students better writers. Another was how to retain more students through the introductory course sequence.

    I was literally speechless at the time, because the school in question has been raising class sizes. The introductory course sequence used to be insulated from this, and so have fewer students in those classes. Not any more. What’s more, the course design process puts a cap on the maximum number of pages students are asked to write, and forces a specific design on assignments, often producing bad and confusing assignments. The school has also been pushing instructors to treat the first instances of plagiarism as accidental. Finally, the school has become more arbitrary in scheduling, making it harder for adjuncts to know if and when they’re teaching.

    I was left saying “Bad and rigid assignments…free passes on plagiarism…much larger classes…scared teachers entering classes with only a little notice…and you want to know what we can do to help students write?”

     

    Oh, the humanity.

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  • 28 Oct 2009 /  teaching, writing

    This week Deborah Louis was kind enough to speak with us. Though she has since stepped down, Deborah was co-chair of the New Faculty Majority: The National Coalition for Adjunct Equity. Since the NFM engages numerous issues related to adjunct faculty and writing, and since Deborah has been, in her own words, “both a writer and an adjunct for almost 40 years,” I was happy to hear her perspective on these issues.

    AA: Why do you write?

    Deborah Louis (hereafter DL): Because I have to. It’s been my means of both intellectual and creative expression since I learned how.

    AA: How does your academic writing relate to your teaching?

    DL: Very little “academic” writing, as it is largely unpaid.  My nonfiction, however (as, social science) both prompts and supports my teaching.  For instance, I have designed courses around my history of the civil rights movement of the early 60s, and use pieces I have done for Feminist Collections in several women’s studies courses.

    AA: How about writing that doesn’t qualify as traditional scholarship, such as blogging?

    DL: Interesting that blogging is your association with other-than-traditional-scholarship–mine would be poetry, novels, and topical essays.  My only venture into cyber-writing has been some social commentary (both fiction and nonfiction) for an Asheville women’s website by request.

    AA: Actually, I’m a poet myself—I just threw blogging out since it is becoming common. Shifting gears a bit, how do you find time to write as an adjunct?

    DL: I don’t, and it’s one of the deepest sorrows of my life. I have many books in my head and even first drafts on the shelf, but no subsidized time to turn them into finished work—i.e. to get the rent etc paid for a long enough period of time to do that.  I even have a book of poetry a local bookstore wants to sell if I could desktop-publish it, and neither the time nor the money for supplies has been available.  A colleague thinks she has a publisher for a U.S. women’s political history I’ve gotten as far as an outline for, but needs one finished chapter I haven’t been able to furnish.  My fondest fantasy is a MacArthur Fellowship, which is even less likely than winning the lottery!

    AA: How have the institutions who employ you responded to your writing? (Do they support it? Ignore it? Even know about it?)

    DL: One has done everything possible to censor it.  The other invites papers and presentations to whatever extent I am able to produce them.

    AA: Censor it? Really? Ouch! I’m glad to hear that one institution has been supportive, though. I’d like to hear more about NFM, if I may. What role does the National Coalition for Adjunct Equity see for writing in relation to adjuncts.

    DL: Since an overwhelming proportion of adjuncts are English Composition instructors, I foresee some lively activities along  those lines!  Also legal support for adjuncts who are harassed, censored, or not rehired due to unpopular or institutional-critical writing.

    AA: Is National Coalition for Adjunct Equity doing anything to support publication by adjuncts?

    DL: Not as yet—it is still forming committees and drafting bylaws!  Programmatic activities will probably not be in place until spring at the earliest!  Much of this depends on funding, too, and no one knows at this point how that’s going to go.

    AA: Fair enough. Do you have any personal thoughts on the relationship between adjunct faculty labor and writing?

    DL: In terms of adjunct advocacy, writing (”scholarly” or otherwise) should be considered one of those “professional development” activities we are simply not afforded in most places, and, as low-wage workers, we can seldom support on our own.  For the most part, those who manage it either are adjuncting in addition to other, higher-paying employment, or have spouses with full-time, salaried jobs.  Economically stressed single moms are especially shortchanged in this environment (I know, I know, JK Rowling did ok—but she had the long-term stability of a welfare check and health coverage for her kids, which adjuncting moms are not entitled to)….

    In thinking over some of your questions, it occurs to me that you might want to pay some attention to how “scholarly writing” is usually associated with research, either presenting or critiquing findings.  One of the ways adjuncts are shortchanged in the academy is in their restricted access to research opportunities and funding, which literally cuts us off at the pass.

    It occurred to me some time ago that adjuncts should be encouraged to apply for research grants, which prompted me to develop a workshop (and book proposal) on “Grantwriting for Academics”—where institutions may not make research subsidies available to adjuncts, they will tend to support proposals where they serve as the channels for the funds, get a cut of the money and publicity/credit for the finished product.  It’s also a great way to augment departmental programs and budgets, which can help insure continuing rehire.  On top of that, serving as primary researcher or director of a grant-funded project is a tremendous asset in professional development and advancement in the academy. 

    However, there is a mindset among instructors (adjuncts and otherwise) that this isn’t their domain, that grantwriting is some mysterious specialization outside of their purview, comprehension, and capabilities, that the institutions have grantwriting staffs whose job that is, and so forth.  When I’ve done the workshop, the first thing is I have to say all of the above to prospective attendees, because it simply doesn’t register that “grantwriting” could be even remotely relevant to them.  Once they see it, the interest and enthusiasm is overwhelming!

    Anyway, I am quite sure this will be a pathway facilitated by NFM/The Coalition, especially as I have just accepted an invitation to serve on their Advisory Board and on their Finance Committee! 

    AA: I look forward to NFM’s leadership in this area, and it sounds exciting. (And on a personal note, I’d love to take that workshop.) Thank you very much for your time.

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