This is not a “how to get published.” This is not a “how not to get published.” I wish I could give you an insider’s perspective because I wish I could be an insider. But I can show you a little bit about the weird, wild world of academic publishing.
The end of a class is bittersweet. After nine weeks, I’m tired, too, and ready for a break. But I’ve gotten to know my students, and wish I could spend more time with them. I think about them after class has ended and wonder if they use what I have taught them. I hope they do well in the future. And I think about my future, too.
I tend not to respond to op-eds, columns, and blog posts about adjuncting. I’d never have time for anything else. But Charlotte Allen’s recent op-ed for the L.A. Times contains a worn argument that I can’t ignore anymore: “Don’t be an adjunct.”
As a child, I hated beginnings. So much was unknown: What would the teacher be like, the other students? What would we learn? I always longed for October, when routines had firmly taken hold. But now I prefer those beginnings because they are so full of hope.
Final papers were turned in this week! Guess what is consuming me mind, body, and soul right now.
Everything I know about getting an academic job. Which, admittedly, isn’t much.
I make about $10 to $25 an hour. I receive no benefits other than a discount at the school store.
It’s not news that university funding is stretched thinner than paper, but the University of Guelph is tackling their budget shortfall in a troubling way: every department and division, both academic and non-academic, has to submit a report to a task force describing what exactly their department does, and why they are essential to the university. If a department can’t prove it is essential, it will face severe funding cuts or elimination.