writing a statement of purpose for graduate school

It's the most wonderful time of the year...when I write about 3,000 letters of recommendation. Most are for students applying for graduate school. I ask students to give me a copy of their CV and their statement of purpose, to help me focus the letter on their strengths and interests. Over the last few years, I've learned that many students - even very good students! - are horrible at writing a statement of purpose. So, I'd like to present a short guide to writing graduate school statements for anthropology/archaeology students (but applicable to many other fields).*

Your statement of purpose should fulfill three main goals:
1) convince the graduate admissions committee you can write coherently, concisely, and well.
2) give the committee some indication of your personality.
3) tell the committee what topics or approaches you're most interested in pursuing in graduate school, including information about what you've already done in the field.

Most students understand goal #1, and write as well as they can. My students tend to focus their efforts on goal #2, because most of them are traditional students (meaning young and relatively inexperienced), and therefore feel a discussion of their personal background and character traits is easier/safer than a more professional discourse. Although your statement of purpose should indicate that you are collegial and hard-working, a focus on goal #2 is a mistake. Goal #3 is by far the most important, and should be the focus of your statement.

So how do you write about your professional background and interests, when you feel muddled, insecure, or uncertain about your future? Even if you're not sure exactly what you want to study in graduate school, your statement of purpose should be as specific as you can make it. Do not tell the committee you're interested in archaeology (or anthropology, or museumology, or Egyptology, etc.). They already know that. That's why you're applying to the archaeology program. Instead, focus on your particular interests. If you've wanted to be an archaeologist since childhood (as far too many statements of purpose claim), what was it that held your interest all these years? Can you name one region (or even two or three) that you find most interesting? When you say you'd like to study the Maya, what aspects in particular most appeal to you? Tombs and the elite? The hoi polloi? Inscriptions? Pottery and artifacts? Human remains? Do you consider yourself to have more of a scientific or humanistic approach to the subject? When brainstorming your statement of purpose, create a short list of regions, time periods, and methods/approaches that you find most compelling.

Now for the next, critical step: keep in mind that your statement of purpose is being evaluated, not for the excellence of the research topic/project discussed per se, but for how well your interests fit those of the faculty in the department to which you are applying. (I highly recommend you read this post about the graduate admissions process from the perspective of a faculty member.) Usually, a student is admitted because they expresses an interest in a particular geographic region and/or method (say, Paleolithic Europe, or ground-stone analysis), and the faculty member in the department who best fits that research interest agrees to take on that student. Depending on the program, agreeing to take on a graduate student is a big step for a faculty member. It means agreeing to work with that student in the field, or creating research opportunities for that student, or funding them through grants. Therefore, your statement of purpose should be tailored to a relatively specific faculty member, or subset of faculty members.

Once you've narrowed down your interests, talk to your undergraduate mentors, or do some looking on-line, and figure out what programs and faculty members fit those interests. Look at the research the graduate faculty list on their webpages. Read some of their publications. Then tailor your statement to make it clear how your interests intersect with theirs. This requires research, not a vague discussion of your interests. If you come from a big university, you may have had the opportunity to take in-depth classes in the methods or regions of your interest, but my students, who are limited to our small number of archaeology courses, don't have the background from classwork alone to write a truly excellent statement of purpose. It is necessary to research the topic (not exhaustively - that's for grad school!) to the point where you can write two or three knowledgeable paragraphs.

Many of my students reject this advice because they don't know exactly what they want to study in graduate school, and they don't want to commit themselves to only one topic. I have two comments on this: 1) if you can't come up with any specific research topics that hold your interests through a one-page statement of purpose, you shouldn't go to graduate school. That is the sign of someone who is just continuing their education because they don't know what else to do with their lives; and 2) Writing the statement of purpose does not stick you with a particular adviser or topic forever. Many students enter graduate school with an expressed interest in studying, say, faunal analysis of the Great Plains, but they take an inspiring class their first year, or are offered an unexpected research opportunity, and end up writing their master's thesis on the lithic analysis of a Neolithic site in the Middle East. Your statement of purpose is a statement of your current interests. It shows you are capable of articulating a research interest and that you have the background to do so well. But it's not a legally binding document. You can always find another faculty mentor and change to a different topic. If you are very undecided about your interests, I personally recommend that you pick one and focus on that for your statement of purpose. Writing about all of them, or too generally, will hamper your admission to graduate school. However, when choosing which program you want to attend, give consideration to the largest program with the greatest diversity of faculty interests, since that will give you more options for changing your mind.

Some common problems in statements of purpose:

Mentioning your childhood. Students love to start statements of purpose with "Since I was a child, I've wanted to be an archaeologist." This is followed by descriptions of formative trips to a museum, or excavations of the backyard sandbox. Imagine a committee member reading a hundred statements of purpose, all of which begin "Since I was a child...". Personally, I think you should leave your childhood out of it. Many of my students, being relatively young and inexperienced, think their childhood is all they can talk about. But your childhood stories do not make you sound older or more experienced. In fact, the opposite is true. If you want to share personal anecdotes to liven up your narrative, share something from your lab or field experience, even if that is quite minimal. This blog has some good advice about adding personality to your statement of purpose, without sounding stupid or cliched. The advice is meant for English majors, but the general guidelines are useful.

Fear of repetition. Some students fear to repeat information from their CV or other application materials in their statement of purpose. Don't be. If you have done anything pertinent (a research project, a graduate class, a publication), make sure to mention it in the statement, and not assume the committee will pull it out of your CV and transcript. Faculty members read a lot of paper every day. We read scholarly articles, memos, job applications, class assignments, etc.. Nobody is going to comb over your application and note, with horror, that you've repeated pieces of information. Instead, faculty members will be happy to see the most pertinent parts of your CV and transcript repeated, for their convenience, in narrative form.

Modesty. Don't sell yourself too hard - you'll come across as unfoundedly arrogant - but don't sell yourself short, either. Most of my students err on the side of modesty. As I said in the last paragraph, don't be afraid to repeat your accomplishments. At the same time, don't feel a need to apologize for any minor or common problems. If there is something glaringly unusual in your record, you should address it (for example, if you failed all of your Freshmen classes, or you had to take medical leave from school and there are two missing years on your transcript). Even better, ask one of your letter writers to address the topic for you, since they can do so from an outsider's perspective, and their words are likely to have more weight with the committee. Do not feel a need to apologize for every B, or your lack of research experience, however. You're only calling attention to the problems, and you're not alone in being inexperienced or having the occasional imperfect grade.

Don't sell yourself short on your research experience and classroom work. Especially if you're a traditional student (relatively young and inexperienced), you should fill in the details of your background, not leave them bare. I'm not suggesting you pad your CV, or exaggerate your research experience. I'm saying, don't leave your one and only field experience as a single line on your CV: "Student, Archaeological Fieldschool. July 2010". Instead, expand and explain: "Student, Archaeological Fieldschool (Anthro 330), Dr. I. Jones, July 2010. Excavation of medieval church site in St. Kildeen, Ireland, and pedestrian survey of medieval landscape in surrounding countryside." Don't be afraid to discuss exactly what you learned, and its impact on your academic development, in your statement of purpose. You're not going to sound arrogant or inexperienced (any more than you are!), and you're providing the kind of information the committee wants to know. Similarly, you can include more information about the specific classes you took that were relevant to your field, including foreign language courses or courses in other fields that the committee would not necessarily think relevant, but were.

Writing a statement of purpose is nerve-wracking, and many students find it hard to write the best possible statement because they are uncertain of protocols, the role of the statement in graduate admissions, and what they're allowed or expected to say. I hope this guide will help. Good luck with your applications!

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*Warning: I've never served on a graduate admissions committee, and every department/faculty member has different ideas about what constitutes an "ideal" statement of purpose, so take this advice with a grain of salt.

academic career suicide: the third child

Am I crazy, or just happy?

Dr. Mr. Palimpsest and I are expecting our third child in May. This is neither wholly unexpected (we'd discussed the possibility), nor fully planned (I didn't expect to get pregnant when I did), but the timing works well. I'm due the first day of finals week.

My graduate adviser once told me that "everybody" understands if an academic woman wants to have one child, and two children is "normal", since that's culturally-defined as a "standard" family size. But more than that, she told me, would make it very hard to pursue an academic career. Indeed, I know only a small number of women who have managed it. (Men, particularly those with non-academic stay-at-home spouses, are another story.)

I believe the idea that "three is too many" comes partly from cultural values, particularly among middle- and upper-class white Americans, who make up the majority of academia, and who sometimes equate small family size with high moral standing. That said, I'll admit there are true challenges we face with three. Travel (to the field, to conferences, to museums, etc.) will be difficult and (possibly) prohibitively expensive. Most critically, my publication productivity takes a hit for at least one year, even two, after each baby. This is my own choice, since I spend as much time at home with a new baby as I can, but it means my ability to get tenure at a research-focused university takes a hit. I'll get tenure here, but if I moved to an R1, I would have to increase my productivity just at the time when I'm most invested in family. So, I've decided not to apply for new jobs this year. I'll stay where I am, at least for a couple years, and raise a baby.

The long and short of it: the third baby is not academic career suicide (I hope!), but probably is the death of my plans to leave the liberal arts and move toward a research position, at least for the foreseeable future. It's a trade-off I'm willing to make, especially since Dr. Mr. Palimpsest's job opportunities here are looking up, but it doesn't make me blind to the fact that it's a trade-off many academics (cough, cough - most men - cough, cough) don't need to make.

job interview stories

Check out this post by Michael Smith on "War stories from academic job interviews." Interesting stuff, and may give some hope to those of you on the market!

He categorizes his job interviews as "successful", "in good faith", and "in bad faith". The "bad faith" interviews are those where someone else was chosen for the job before you arrived.

I've had six on-campus interviews (seven if you count a short-list interview that was conducted via Skype). Only one was "successful", and I don't believe any were "in bad faith", although I knew within the first couple of hours at the last interview that I wouldn't get the job. I don't think they had someone else already lined up, per se, but it was clear they weren't interested in me. Still, they were polite and I enjoyed the experience.

As for war stories: Two of the interviews went poorly. My first interview was at a large research institution, and the department put me up in the home of the search committee chair. Exhausting! I never had a break, until she got stomach flu and ended up in the bathroom for the last 12 hours of my visit. Still, I enjoyed meeting the faculty, and overall it was a good first experience.

The other regrettable interview was at a small, poorly-ranked undergraduate school. The committee created all kinds of problems, everything from keeping me up until 1am the day I arrived (I had left my home at 5am the morning to make it to the airport on time), to changing the venue of my research talk only hours before I gave it ("Hey, why don't you give your talk to our Into to Archaeology class? I'm sure they'd love it! Can you pitch it to first-year, under-prepared undergrads?"), to forgetting to schedule lunch. When you add in the horrors of the location itself (although I was assured by the faculty that their town wasn't the meth capital of the state, that was a town down the road), I left that interview fully intending to turn down the job if offered. In fact, none of the candidates on the short list were offered/took the job, and the department hired someone much more suitable to their needs by bringing in someone who had worked in CRM in the region for decades.

I'm not on the job market this year. For reasons I'll discuss more in a later post, I just can't face the prospect of moving this summer. Plus, things are looking up for Dr. Mr. Palimpsest's employment prospects here at Tiny U. Hopefully, more on this soon!

painful truths about grad school

This post about grad school in history has been making the rounds. It basically says the same thing most of us have been saying: there are no academic jobs, current academic lottery winners won't tell you the truth, the opportunity costs are too high, etc. Still, it's a nice re-statement of the problem.

Although I believe everything stated in this blog post, I'll admit I find it hard to quash the dewy-eyed dreamers that come to my office, seeking advice about graduate school. It's hard to tell them "no", without it coming out as either "you're not good enough" (no matter how often I say that's not the case), or "it's only anthropology that's this f#@ked up" (especially since students who are given a pessimistic view of the future by me often find a more optimistic faculty member in another field, and assume that they're better off in history or sociology).

How much reality do you inflict on undergrads?

Buttlurch U

Did you see the fake job posted to the jobs wiki?

Buttlurch State University

The Department of Anthropology, Sociology, and Criminal Science at Buttlurch State University invites applications for a non tenure-track faculty appointment in the archaeology of science, global warming, and interdisciplinarity. There is a preference for archaeology of the world, but all areas will be considered. We seek a candidate from a top-ranked graduate program (preferably Ivy League), regardless of publication record or teaching experience. The successful applicant will both complement and duplicate the research interests of the current faculty. Thus, applicants specializing in the archaeology of the past, the prehistory of Delaware, ancient DNA or stable isotopes, and dolphin-human interaction are of particular interest.

The appointee will have a 4-4 teaching load and will be expected to teach the same courses every semester: Complex Societies of Delaware (online), Primatology Lab, Pirates & Globalization, and a freshman writing seminar on the Archaeology of Cetaceans. Buttlurch University places a strong emphasis on teaching, with a 150-1 student teacher ratio and the expectation that faculty will pass everyone who pays tuition. The successful candidate is expected to hold an ethnographic field school every summer, run Buttlurch University’s CRM program, conduct NAGPRA compliance, and serve as the department chair after completing their first year (4 year appointment).

We strongly encourage applications from women and members of minority groups (heterosexuals preferred), even though we’re pretty much old white guys and don’t have room for more. Applicants will need to upload the following to our on-line jobsite: cover letter, CV, research statement, dissertation précis, teaching philosophy, plans for publications over the next 7 years, graduate and undergraduate transcripts, student evaluations, course syllabi, and 8 to 10 writing samples. You will also need to upload four letters of recommendation (these may not be sent directly by letter writers). For full consideration, all materials must be postmarked by yesterday. Preliminary Skype interviews will be conducted, followed by interviews at the Annual Meetings of the Archeaology Society of Delaware.

Please note that applicants will receive no verification that their application has been received, but in about eight months, all but one of you may get a snarky email indicating that “one of the other applicants was a better fit.” You were actually the lucky ones.

This is REALLY, REALLY funny. If you are editing the wiki, please leave it here? Us poor, unemployed suckers who are looking for jobs in this economy can really use the free entertainment-- and a little levity never killed a wiki. Plus, I don't think anyone will mistake it for a real posting.

There is a VAP currently in this position.
11/12 contacted for additional references and asked for high school transcripts
11/12 - request for urinalysis received.

That bit about the "VAP currently in this position" sent me over the edge.

about inside candidates

Are you reading the archaeology jobs wiki? I recommend it, if you're on the academic market. We archaeologist seem a bit reticent about sharing too many details. Personally, I don't have a problem with saying who is on the short-list for a particular job. After all, they're giving public presentations! But, I understand the wish for privacy.

There are many comments on the wiki about inside candidates. Many potential applicants are concerned by visiting scholars or adjuncts already affiliated with the hiring department. In some cases, these concerns are particularly strong because the supposed inside candidate is a spouse of an existing faculty member, or the person was hired for the visiting position the year before under almost the same job description.

I think we over-estimate the "problem" of inside candidates. I've applied for a lot of jobs, heard about the inside machinations of job searches at many other institutions, and participated in search committees myself. Here are some of the actual situations I've seen (or heard about from credible sources):

1) The adjunct spouse appears to fit the job description, but there was never any intention of hiring him/her. The thought had never occurred to the search committee, or the spouse in question has some other part-time job that they wish to keep.

2) The visiting scholar who was hired last year (under basically the same job description) was hired out of an applicant pool of 12. The tenure-track job attracts an applicant pool of 120.

3) The visiting scholar received a job offer from another institution before their current institution can offer them a tenure-track job.

4) The visiting scholar managed to piss off the whole department within the first two weeks of her new job. She fits the job description, but wouldn't be hired in a million years.

5) The visiting scholar was hired because he was the protegee of the department chair. But, the department chair is hated by the rest of the department, so when it comes to a formal search for a tenure-track job, with a search committee and vote by the whole faculty, the visiting scholar doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. Everyone will vote against the department chair's choice, just out of spite.

6) The committee that hired the visiting scholar had one member with a strong interest in hiring a faculty member who could teach in the Environmental Sciences program. That person is on sabbatical the next year, and when the tenure-track search committee is formed, he is replaced by someone who is passionate about hiring a faculty member who can teach in the Asian Studies program. The visiting scholar works in the Amazon, and is therefore screwed.

7) The department would never hire an adjunct from their own program. They think all the good candidates should be able to get tenure-track jobs right out of graduate school, and they're not interested in anyone else.

8) The department would never hire a faculty member's spouse. They think that any good archaeologists should have been able to get his or her own job, and if that person was unwilling to live 2,000 miles away from their 3 kids, that just shows they lack serious interest in their career.

I could go on, but you get the point. For heaven's sake, apply for the job, regardless of whether you think there's an inside candidate!

the anthropology job market

It's the academic job market time again! In honor of the season opening, I want to remind you all of the classic "archaeology academic job draft" post by Archaeonumeracy. Now, onto the job market joy!

These two links came across my radar yesterday:

The first article talks about how horrible the anthropology job market is, at least in academia. I'll admit, there are times when I wonder if I made a mistake going into anthropology. I love it, but would I have been just as happy as a paleontologist? Or a wildlife biologist? Would my job prospects have been much better in those fields?

The second article predicts strong growth in the anthropology/archaeology job market, mostly in CRM and government jobs ("government" as in Department of Defense). I've told my students that graduate school in anthropology can be a good choice, but if being a university professor is the only acceptable outcome for them, they need to find another field. On the other hand, even students who are interested in applied fields can have trouble finding the right training, as many graduate programs continue to give short shrift to the practicalities of the job market.

This past week, I sent out my first job applications of the season. I'm being picky about my applications. I already have a job and I can afford to wait until something I really want shows up*. On the other hand, this looks like a (relatively) good year on the job market. I've already seen five jobs I'm willing to apply for, and there will probably be more. Who else is on the job market this year? Are you feeling more optimistic than in previous years?

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*I'm still debating whether or not to apply for the job at Stanford, which is clearly the faunal job of the year. Why or why do all the faunal jobs have to be in coastal California where nobody can afford to live?!? Does anybody else wonder if it's worth taking a great job, but in a place where your quality of living would be low?

bringing our whole selves to our careers

In my last post, I directed you toward Kate Clancy's blog, and her post "Three things I learned at the Purdue Conference for Pre-Tenure Women: On being a radical scholar".

I was particularly struck by this:

Dr. Turner encouraged us to push against a job that forces us to “constantly abstract ourselves,” that we should bring our whole selves to the table because of what we offer but also because it makes us whole.

How many of us publicly admit the side of us that yearns for more childcare, but not also the side of us that yearns to turn off our computers and snuggle our kids for an afternoon? How many academics hide who they love, or what they love, for fear of not fitting in or not seeming serious?

...

So no more. I’m bringing everything that I am to my job. This isn’t just about loving my kid, or being an athlete, or writing a blog, though it’s a start to fully embrace these things. This is about wanting to push the boundaries of how anthropologists and doctors think about female reproductive physiology. This is about the intersection of feminism and evolutionary biology. And this means that I need to more explicitly make this passion my primary scholarly interest.

Two thoughts:

1) Even here, at Tiny U, where my research expectations are low, I hide the degree to which my family comes first. My colleagues don't realize how much time I spend with my kids, or that I want a larger family. Yes, you read that right: I have two kids, but I still want another one! This is such academic heresy that I'm afraid to tell most of my colleagues, especially as I near my tenure deadline. And yet, should this truly be something I hide? All I'm really saying is that I, like the average American woman, want more than two kids. We all know successful academic men with more than two kids, why should it be shameful for a woman to want three?

2) Unlike Clancy, issues of reproduction are not my primary scholarly interest. But that shouldn't stop me from integrating my career and my motherhood/wifehood/womanhood. I teach the biological anthropology classes at Tiny U - how often do I bring up issues of reproduction? When I teach intro to cultural, do I bring up issues of women's labor and gender roles as they relate to children? I have advocated for families when I serve on university committees, why not focus my mandatory service requirements on family issues?

More on this later, particularly on Clancy's contention that we should become "radical scholars".

automatic tenure clock stoppage: family friendly?

Tiny U just implemented a policy that automatically stops your tenure clock when you have a child. The policy applies equally to men and women, and to "natural" and adopted children.

In general, I support such policies and find them family friendly. But they make more sense at a research-heavy institution, where the "publish or perish" culture is stronger. Here, if one manages to teach one's classes, and maybe get a small article out in the year after your baby is born, you've done enough, and your tenure case won't be hurt (assuming is was strong before.)

I was asked by our Sainted Department Chair to stop my tenure clock when my son was born. She didn't think I needed to do so from a professional perspective, but no social scientist at Tiny U had ever stopped their tenure clock to have a child. She wanted someone to break the barrier, and she preferred it be someone whose tenure case was very strong. I ended up not doing so because I want to go up for early tenure.

And that's my problem with the policy. The only way to get a raise around here is to get promoted, since we've had frozen or cut wages almost every year since I arrived. Therefore, I would like to go up for tenure one year early (next year). I will have to petition the dean and department to allow me to shave one year off my required service period. I have reason to believe the department will grant my petition, but some people do have a negative reaction to junior faculty who ask for promotion when they don't seem to have "done their time."

If the new policy had been in effect two years ago, and my clock had been automatically stopped when my son was born, I would now have to petition to have two years (in effect) taken off of my required service. Hopefully, the faculty would understand that one of those years wasn't a "real" year off. Six weeks of maternity leave does not equal a year off of teaching! But it still could be a problem/annoyance to some young faculty members who are hoping to go up for tenure early.

update on family friendly policies

I mentioned in an earlier post that Tiny U implemented a new policy to keep families from accompanying faculty who are teaching Summer Programs off campus (like Study Abroad, fieldschools, etc.) I wrote a memo of (respectful) protest, and got most of the faculty who had led summer programs in the last decade to sign it.

The response was both good and...less good. On the good side: family members can now accompany faculty on summer programs, as long as a) their presence is disclosed; b) they don't cost the university any money; c) they sign a legal waiver; and d)there are contingency plans in place for any personal problems that may crop up.

Mission Accomplished!!

Before I put on the flight suit and bound across the flight deck to declare victory, however, I want to mention the less good aspects of the situation.

I had a meeting with the Academic Vice President (AVP), and her responses to this issue makes it clear that she's willing to work with us (yay!) but she doesn't really "get it". For example, she expressed concern that if an accompanying child was hospitalized, then the faculty member may not be willing to move on to the next leg of a study abroad trip. I responded that it wouldn't matter if my children accompanied me to the field or not; if one of my kids was hospitalized, even back in Tiny Town, I'd be on the next flight home. Her response? "I'm nervous about letting you take our students abroad, if you tell me that your first priority would be to your own kids, and you'd just abandon the students and run straight home."

Here's the thing: My students are a great responsibility, and I take that seriously, but my children are my life. They will always come first. If that's a problem, then I shouldn't be teaching at all, end of story. In fact, no parent should be teaching, and particularly no mothers without stay-at-home spouses. Are we honestly saying that no woman with kids should be allowed in the workplace? I didn't think so!

There were some additional tidbits during the conversation that concerned me. For example, the AVP expressing some concern that faculty would have to choose between the health and welfare of their own children and of the students. It's an argument against parents, made by someone who has never been a parent. First of all, there's nothing to choose. Of course I would pick my children, if I had to make some kind of Sophie's Choice on a study abroad trip (at which point, we would all have a lot more things to worry about than whether or not an unpaid spouse is in tow!) But that idea is ludicrous. Short of landing in the middle of complete chaos, there are backup plans and safety nets for all of our study abroad programs. Nobody expresses concern that the faculty member would have to make a difficult choice between her own health and welfare and those of her students. Why would a parent's choice be so much more problematic?

Annoyances aside, this was a substantial victory for family-friendly policy at Tiny U. I'm thrilled.

losing my religion (or at least, losing out at religious institutions)

I had a job interview back in December, but unfortunately did not get the job. Actually, it was the least traumatic rejection I've ever experienced. The job had some negatives (very expensive location, a similar teaching load to Tiny U, but with the expectation of taking on a large number of masters students and of having higher research productivity.) Plus, I know the person who was offered the job, and I love his work, and he fits the needs of the program better than I do (in terms of the region he works in, etc.)

I have some posts planned about the job market, particularly about my experiences on search committees, but today I want to throw out one quick comment: I have once again been rejected by a Catholic university hiring within my field. I've mentioned before that I'm Catholic, and I would love to teach at a Catholic university. I've never even gotten a long-list at one, even when the job description fits me to a "t". I'm not sure why this is the case, but here are my two main theories:

1) Catholic universities are no different from any other university, so their hiring practices look bizarre and unfathomable from the outside, but from an internal perspective, they are hiring the person who best fits their needs, whether or not those needs were expressed coherently in the job description.

2) (the paranoid option) Stating that I am Catholic in my application is hurting me. The American Council of Bishops has been pushing Catholic universities to reaffirm their Catholic identity. One of the ways this should happen is for Catholic universities to hire more Catholic faculty. Ergo, if all other things are equal among the long-listed or short-listed candidates, then Catholic candidates may be given an institutionally-mandated advantage. I can see, under those circumstances, why faculty at a Catholic institution may not want to short-list, or even long-list, a Catholic candidate, if they may be pushed into hiring that person, whether they want to or not.

Is that plausible, or am I just being paranoid and self-centered?

more of family-friendly policies

Dr. Mr. Palimpsest has the flu, so I'm taking over his two classes today. Luckily, both kids are reasonably healthy. Bunny is jumping around like, well, a bunny, and Pumpkin has a bit of a cold, but nothing too dire. I've mostly lost my voice, but otherwise I'm golden. At least I don't have the flu!

I've mentioned before that our department chair is a gift from the academic gods, and worth every ounce of her weight in gold. We are incredibly sorry that she's leaving at the end of this academic year.

Here's example of her awesomeness: One of my colleagues is adopting a little girl from China. According to Tiny U policy, she only gets 2 weeks off, plus her courses must be covered by her colleagues out of the goodness of their hearts. My colleague successfully argued with the department chair and now has A) 6 weeks off (not all of it paid, I believe); and B) $2,000 to be paid to each colleague who takes on one of her courses for those 6 weeks. Our department chair managed to eek the money out of our non-existent budget, because she believes so strongly in family-friendly workplaces. Yay, department chair!

Now to drop the other shoe: I'm taking on my colleague's intro course for 6 weeks. It's not in my field, but related (think, like, intro to world history)*. And, yes, I'm taking on another 70 students, in addition to the 70 in my intro to Cultural class, and the 60 in my intro to Bioanth class, and the 15 in my upper-level seminar. Ack! And I'm already having trouble getting anything done this semester.

On the other hand, it's $2,000 that can go toward childcare this summer. (We're currently looking at taking both kids out of childcare this summer, to save the money, unless I can get money through a grant to pay for childcare and let me spend some time working on a new project.) Also, it's my contribution to a more family-friendly workplace.

UPDATE: H1N1 is running rampant through our community. That may be the culprit in our most recent edition of the plague chronicles.

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*Yes, there are faculty members in my colleague's field who would be better suited to take over this class. In fact, one of them teaches this intro course every Fall semester. She refused to take on her colleague's course, because it would be "too hard" to teach 70 more students, on top of her three (tiny) upper-division seminars. Also, she's complete dead wood who refuses to even develop a new course unless she gets a course release to make up for the lost time. Oh, and she hates my colleague for refusing to hide a previous colleague's alcoholism, which eventually led to his forced retirement for passing out in class and making students visit his house at night, while he was drunk. Aren't academic politics fun?

men and women's commutes

After yesterday's post on family togetherness, I found this post on commutes to be interesting. It turns out that men on average commute farther to work than women, but women drive a lot more, because of their role in hauling kids around and doing errands. There is no information in this post about how many men vs. women live in a different state/country than their spouse and kids. I assume it's mostly men who leave home to take jobs elsewhere, but I don't have any actual data on that. They do say that it appears women are deliberately choosing jobs that are closer to home (or homes closer to jobs) to help balance life/work issues.

Yesterday's post was useful, because it made me really think through the issues involved in splitting our family for a year. At this point, we're not going to consider it.

culture vs. policy: more on family-friendly workplaces

I'm blessed with a family-friendly workplace (despite some problems, as mentioned here and here). But Tiny U is notable for its family-friendly culture, not its family-friendly policies. In fact, our policies are pretty strict. Women are allowed 6 paid weeks off for giving birth, and can take an additional 6 weeks unpaid. Men are allowed 2 weeks off, as are women who adopt children. According to strict HR policy, no other arrangements are allowed.

Luckily, we're a small campus, with many young families, and some administrators are willing to bend the rules to benefit everyone. For example, when Pumpkin was born, I didn't take any time off, but I dropped a class for the semester. It was against the rules, to the point that the department chair didn't tell the dean. But, it worked better for everyone. I was able to take more time with the baby for longer, rather than having 6 weeks off, then jumping back into 12 hours/week in the classroom (actually, more than that, since one of the classes has labs, and those are longer hours for the same credit load.) My colleagues didn't have to fill in for me for 6 weeks, a serious problem in a small university with no other archaeologists (other than Dr. Mr. Palimpsest, who had a new baby, too!) Finally, the students didn't have to worry about switching instructors.

My department chair (and others around campus) have been very flexible in interpreting (aka ignoring) the rules. Men and women with family obligations have worked out various solutions that work for them and their departments, and that makes Tiny U a family-friendly environment. Culture is more important than policy, when it comes to concrete achievements for families.

The problem, of course, is that culture can change with just a few, key administrative appointments, and then the policies on the books take on new life. I love my department chair; she has been supportive of our family needs and our two-body problem. But, she is leaving for another university. It remains to be seen whether our family-friendly culture survives without her.

off-campus teaching and families

Just after I bragged that Tiny U is 95% family friendly, our administration handed down a new rule about Summer Programs (off-campus teaching, such as fieldschools and study abroad). Contrary to previous policies, faculty teaching Summer Programs are now unable to bring their families with them, except for spouses who are also co-instructors of the course. This means that Dr. Mr. Palimpsest and I can't run our summer fieldschool unless we leave Bunny and Pumpkin at home. I guess they're supposed to forage for themselves. This policy will make it impossible for single parents and most parents of small children to run Summer Programs.

What really pissed me off was the language of the new policy. If the administration had said, "sorry, it's a liability thing," I would be frustrated, but not insulted. What the policy actually says, though, is that family members can't come on these courses because faculty need to be able to concentrate on their jobs, and they won't be able to give the students their full attention if their family is with them. I see. So, as a mother, I'm incapable of doing my job, since my family takes up too much of my mental abilities. Sheesh.

regional preferences in hiring

I'm applying for a job in the greater-NYC metro region. It's not an archaeology job, but it's in a related field where I'm qualified. While looking at the faculty in that department, however, I noted an odd pattern: every faculty member (every single one!) got their PhD at a university in New York City or New Jersey. This included degrees from institutions I hadn't even realized granted PhDs. (Drew University grants PhD's? Who knew?)

When I first went on the job market, I was warned that elite East Coast institutions tend to hire from elite East Coast institutions. I was also warned that smaller universities in the South tend to hire applicants from the South (more on this later). My current institution, Tiny U, has a much higher percentage of faculty from this state/region than you would expect. Partly, this is self-selecting (many people won't apply here, and those who get the job and stay often have some tie to the region.) But, partly, there is real interest on the part of search committees in finding someone who will be a willing and eager colleague for years to come. One way to do this is to hire someone with local ties, who at least knows what they are getting into when they come here! (No, seriously, this is a problem. We've lost candidates who withdrew from the search after seeing the town on their campus visit. We've had tenure-track faculty quit their jobs because their spouse takes one look around when he/she arrives, says "no way in hell", and heads back to the city.)

I understand why universities in so-called "less desirable" areas may preferentially hire people with local ties. But I don't understand why this seems so common. I applied for a job a few years ago at a third-tier state school in a large, centrally-located city that shall not be named. Fully 75% of the faculty at the school had PhDs from the only PhD-granting institution in the city, a well-respected private school. Why was this state school hiring locally? I don't know, but I wonder if they had a pattern of hiring their own adjuncts. Perhaps that was a good strategy for them - they knew they were hiring good colleagues and teachers - but they were located in a reasonably desirable market, and could easily have hired faculty from around the country, if they chose. The same is true for the school in the greater NYC area where I'm currently applying. It's in a highly desirable location, by many people's standards. Why should they limit their faculty to the cast of Jersey Shore?*

That pernicious beast "fit" is rearing its head again. Honestly, hiring biases toward certain regions don't bother me, although I don't think it is in the best interests of most institutions. The problem is, if you prefer your colleagues to be from the same region as you, there may also be a tendency to prefer them to be the same race, or the same gender, or the same political out-look.

So, break out of your comfort-zone, search committee members! Live dangerously; hire someone from Connecticut.
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*Disclaimer: I've never actually seen Jersey Shore, and the only thing I know about it is that the cast is largely orange and there's a woman named Pooki, or something, who is a friend of John McCain's and reminds me (oddly) of my sister-in-law. I'm sure the cast of the show bears no resemblance whatsoever to the faculty at this university. Most of them probably voted for Obama.

a small tip for creating family-friendly work environments

I mentioned in a previous post that my current institution has a family-friendly atmosphere. I'd say that's true 95% of the time. The one big exception is our tendency to schedule evening meetings. This week, I had meetings 6-9pm on Tuesday, 7-9pm on Wednesday, and 5:30-7pm on Thursday.

Sometimes it's impossible to avoid evening meetings, and when everyone is teaching 12 hours a week, it can be challenging for committees to meet during the day. But when everyone is available for an 8am meeting, I hate that I'm forced to be the nasty, uncooperative person who refuses to let my colleagues sleep in, all because I have small kids at home.

It's an awkward situation, particularly because the other committee members don't want to admit that the only reason they won't meet at 8am is because they don't want to get up that early. After all, I'm not asking for some kind of unreasonable concession, like a week-end meeting, or making everyone come to my house. I'm asking that they schedule a meeting for regular work hours, rather than at night. They can't say "I'm too lazy to get out of bed before 7:30," so instead they come up with a variety of strange excuses. One committee member told me he didn't want to get up at 5:30am. Since he lives less than 15 minutes from campus, I was surprised, and asked why he would need to get up at 5:30 for an 8 meeting. He hemmed and hawed and said he had to pack up all his materials, do the last prep for class, etc., etc. Unless I want to make things even more awkward, I can't just say "so pack your materials the night before!" (In his defense, he's extremely supportive of me, and of family-friendly policies in general, and he was going to be traveling that day.)

So here's my tip for colleagues who want to create a family-friendly work environment: try to avoid evening meetings. They may not seem like much to you, but to the parents of young kids, they're a major frustration. Remember those meetings last week? First, my husband had to take care of the kids, which is difficult since Pumpkin screams all evening if he's not in my arms nursing. Dr. Mr. Palimpsest had a lot of work to do those evenings, too, so it was tough on his schedule. Second, I missed out on the primary time I get to spend with my kids. On daycare days, I only see Bunny between 7-8am and 5-7pm. I missed some or all of that evening time for three nights in a row. Third, my house was completely trashed after three days of me not cleaning in the evening. Seriously, there wasn't a clean dish in the house, the kitchen counters were covered in food bits, the floor had three days worth of highchair mess. It was disgusting. (It's not that Dr. Mr. Palimpsest won't clean, but it's harder for him to do so when Pumpkin is screaming. See above.)

So, I repeat the tip: try to avoid evening meetings. I know it's a pain to get up, but remember that you're weighing your feelings of "gee-it's-a-pain-to-get-out-of-bed-and-be-at-work-by-the-normal-beginning-of-the-business-day", against a parent's feelings of "this-goddamn-evening-meeting-is-costing-me-precious-time-with-my-kids-and-putting-strain-on-my-marriage-or-costing-me-babysitting-money-and-is-making-it-impossible-for-me-and-my-children-to-follow-our-normal-lives-and-routine". Parents of young children are often probationary faculty, and concerned about gaining a reputation as bad colleagues. They may not argue against evening meetings, even when they're a significant burden. Please, my esteemed colleagues, be sensitive to the needs of young families when it comes to demanding evening service.

gender gap in service

I'm sure you'll all be shocked to hear that a new study shows a significant gender gap in the hours of service per week among tenure-track professors. The study was conducted at UMass Amherst. The most surprising result, from my perspective, is that female associate professors are doing a great deal more service than their male colleagues, but that does not seem to be the case for assistant professors. I wonder, to what extent that may be an age/generational change, or is that only wishful thinking on my part?

academic mothers and breastfeeding

Many working mothers would like to breastfeed. Not all do, and babies do fine on formula, but many of us struggle with working full-time and nursing. I'm not an expert on breastfeeding, but this post about my own experiences is for first-time mothers, and administrators/fathers/coworkers who want to support a breastfeeding-friendly environment.

Before I had kids, I assumed that a good pump and my own office was all that I needed. My first child, Bunny, was 6 weeks old when I went back to work. My supply was strong and Bunny was a good nurser. I rented one of the top-end machines, and headed to my office. By the time Bunny was 9 months, she self-weaned, a reaction to my continuously diminishing milk supply. What went wrong? First, my job was not terribly flexible, for an academic position. I literally had to fill out a time sheet if I wasn't planning to be on-campus between the hours of 9 and 5 each weekday. As a result, I couldn't run home and nurse over lunch, or for a short break. Second, I attended a couple of conferences and I had a few job interviews that required multiple-day absences from home. Pumps are great, but they are no substitute for physical contact with your baby.

I realize that many women don't breastfeed for 9 months, so I'm not crying a river over Bunny's nursing history. Still, I had planned to breastfeed exclusively until she was a year, and I had no particular weaning date in mind. (My cousins, some of whom are La Leche leaders, have nursed their children until 3 or 4.)

With my second child, Pumpkin*, I wanted more time to enjoy his first year. This was not just because of the nursing relationship, but that was part of my decision making. Luckily, I was in a more flexible, tenure-track position. I was able to make some changes, and Pumpkin was exclusively breast-fed until we introduced solids at 9 months, and cow's milk at a year. At 14 months, he's still getting 50% of his calories from breastmilk, and I expect to nurse until he self-weans.

Here's what I did with Pumpkin:

1-part-time, instead of time off: Luckily, Pumpkin was born a couple of weeks before Winter Break. I finished up the Fall semester, and had 6 weeks to recover before the next semester began. Technically, I could have taken another 6 weeks off, before going back full-time, but instead I negotiated a one-course release for the Spring semester. I went back to work at 6 weeks, but I only had two classes, instead of three. Unfortunately, one of those classes was a lab, so it was 50% more classtime than a lecture course, but still, I had an easier than normal semester. I only put Pumpkin in daycare four afternoons a week, so I could be home with him every morning and all day on Tuesday. No, I didn't get anything done all semester (except teach the classes), but it was my maternity leave, so I gave myself a break. That following summer, I was able to spend most of my time with the baby, and in the Fall I only had one class (for programmatic reasons), so Pumpkin was in daycare 3 days a week, and I stayed home with him Tue and Thur. (On the Thursday, Dr. Mr. Palimpsest stayed home and cared for him, but I worked at home so I could nurse and help with emergencies.) Pumpkin didn't start full-time daycare until last week; he turned 14 months on Sunday.

I'm very lucky to have this flexibility. (It also helps that I'd easily get tenure at my current institution with my existing publication record, so I wasn't under a lot of pressure to get other things done.) I know not everyone can do what I did, but some women may have the opportunity to go part-time - rather than take time off but then go back to work full-time when the child is still less than 6 months - and that may work better for them than more traditional forms of maternity leave.

2-family bed: Bunny was a good sleeper from day one. She would sleep in her own crib for 6 hours straight by the time she was 6 weeks old. Pumpkin was the opposite. We switched to the family bed when he was less than a week old, since it was clear we would never sleep again if we didn't! I know there are dangers to the family bed, and I'm not advocating it for anyone else, but it worked for us. I've gotten more sleep with Pumpkin than I did with Bunny. One side-effect is that Pumpkin nurses all night long. This has helped maintain the nursing relationship, even when Pumpkin and I were separated all day.

3-family-friendly environment: I am blessed with a job at an institution with a family-friendly environment. Pumpkin attended a series of meetings his first semester, and nobody complained (even when I spent the meeting walking him up and down, soothing and jiggling). I nursed in meetings, and at social events with my colleagues. Obviously, most academic mothers can't choose their environment, but if you are a colleague to a new mother, I beg you to remember that creating a family-friendly environment means more than supporting generous maternity policies. In fact, my institution has pretty awful maternity policies (6 weeks for new mothers, 2 weeks for adopted parents and fathers, no other considerations allowed). But, the administration and my colleagues were willing to work with the rules. And, they have been very open and understanding about my schedule needs.


Again, I'm no expert, but many people fail to understand that many women need more than a commitment to nursing and a pump to be successful at breastfeeding. Administrators may never be willing to make the changes necessary to support nursing in the workplace, but first-time mothers should be aware of the challenges while they're planning their child's first year.


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*When I was pregnant, I used to call this child Boo Too, since Bunny is our Bunny Boo, but now I call him my Pumpkin Pie, so I'm changing his name on the blog.

a short comment on science

I haven't blogged about the #AAAfail issue, since, honestly, I don't care that much. The AAA is largely irrelevant for most archaeologists, and this incident shows one of the reasons why. I do support a four-field approach. Call me an elitist, ugly American, but I find most American-style archaeology to be more interesting than European-style archaeology. We tend to deal with bigger questions in a way that I find more compelling (but maybe it's just my training). The difference, I believe, comes from our four-field approach. The value of the approach does not negate the fact that cultural anthropology, archaeology, and biological anthropology have been developing in their own directions. That's OK, it just makes it hard for us to be members of one over-arching organization where we all can feel included and valued. Personally, I consider myself a scientist, but I have no problem with more post-modern or humanistic approaches to human culture. I think we can learn from them, as well, I just don't find the methods or conclusions as useful for the questions that I want to ask.

My problem with the changes to the AAA's Long Range Plan comes from the perceived slight to those who are interested in science, particularly in an academic climate where archaeologists and biological anthropologists may be quick to assume the worst motives. It was poor politics, and serves to further alienate factions within anthropology. In my opinion, this is not because of any real or significant change in the AAA's plans for the future, but because of the distrust and dislike that was stirred up on both sides. Contrast these two comments, and you'll see what I mean:

From A Hot Cup of Joe:

In their response, the AAA board says, “[a]nthropology is a holistic and expansive discipline that covers the full breadth of human history and culture. As such, it draws on the theories and methods of both the humanities and sciences.”

If by “holistic” they mean it makes use of all the natural sciences to examine and define human culture and history, then that’s fine. Why not simply say so? By why must it rely on or even draw upon the humanities? Just about any definition of “the humanities” you find expressly excludes “the sciences.” This is utter bollocks. The suggestion is that its okay to draw upon religious explanations and speculative post-modern critique to examine human culture past or present. If anything should be excluded and excised from the long-range plans of the AAA it should be this sort of non-scientific codswallop...[W]hy not simply just put back the word science in the Long Range Plan? A word that has far more utility and express intent than the probably post-modernist appeasement of weasel-wording they settled upon.

Now, let's hear from Rex at Savage Minds:

The narrative at work seems basically to be this: for decades real, objective, scientific anthropology has been under assault from interpretivists like Clifford Geertz who do not believe in truth. With the new language in the AAA mission statement, anthropologists have given up on truth altogether.

I wish that this were a parody or simplification of the argument, but it is not — this is honestly as it good as it gets from the critics of the AAA: Clifford Geertz is the thin edge of a wedge inserted into the social sciences by Creationism, Sarah Palin, etc. etc.

The fact that the model used by ‘scientific’ anthropologists has as much complexity as an average episode of WWE Smackdown — with a distinction between the evil ‘fluff-head’ cultural anthropologists and the good ‘scientific’ cultural anthropologists — should be the first sign that something fishy is going on...At times I feel like the real distinction here is between thoughtful people who are aware of the complexities of knowledge production, and those who are for psychological reasons strongly committed to identifying themselves as scientists and everyone else as blasphemers. This approach is, of course, not very scientific and verges on being the close-minded inversion of the fundamentalist Christianity that thinkers of this ilk so love to oppose.

Those quotes illustrate the problem nicely: a complete and utter lack of respect between different factions of anthropology.

I really couldn't care less how the AAA defines anthropology, or what it thinks our long-term goals should be as a discipline. Assuming the AAA wants to make a claim to being the professional organization for more than cultural anthropologists, however, it is going about it the wrong way. Deliberately sowing discord in an already uneasy marriage was a dumb move.