Giving Account of Oneself
All my brainiac friends don't get excited. This ain't about Judith Butler.
There is one part of being a professor that I actually don't mind: the annual review process. I also enjoyed (!) the Tenure & Promotion process a few years ago, which is very similar, just a little bit higher stakes. Am I a glutton for punishment? Do I also enjoy visiting the dentist or gynecologist? No, I think find the review process meaningful because, at least so far, when I have paused to give account of myself professionally, I have come out on the plus side.
My friend Nichole, also an academic--and one whose good opinion I value and want to keep--helped me start the process this year. She has told me several times that she ought to hang out a shingle for all the counseling she gives me. I don't argue with her. This time, I was bemoaning my lack of discipline and motivation for writing. "Whitlock," she said, "what are you talking about? You spent a year interviewing people for your book. And you had an edited collection published this year!" I guess, I told her, I hadn't thought about those. I tend to focus on the writing that I don't get done. I wonder if other academics do that. I wonder if other women academics do it. It is a very prohibitive and debilitating habit.
With that in mind, I approached my annual review, which this year must meticulously be entered into an online system. One good thing about having to enter each tiny part of publication information into separate fields is that you can't miss what you've done! In the hope that I won't lose sight of it this time and thereby break my nasty habit of null productivity (I made that up just now), here is a list of what I have done this year:
I was invited to speak at TCU as part of the Green Honors Chair Lecture Series. I was awarded a sabbatical (see previous post). I chaired a dissertation committee and served as external member on two from Georgia Southern. I wrote a book review that I'm now revising, and I have one book chapter in press and one published. I wrote an invited afterword in a special edition of a journal. I was invited by the dean to give a lecture in her speaker series. I gave three conference presentations. I researched for a book. As far as service (the bane of most academics' existence), I am associate department chair. I served on a department-level tenure and promotion committee and on a college-level one. I taught an online course for the first time (and liked it!). And: I started seminary at Emory's Candler School of Theology and moved from my apartment into a bungalow in Atlanta. I started back to church and joined the choir. I made new friends and reconnected with old
ones.
All in all, this has been one of the best years I've ever had.
There is one part of being a professor that I actually don't mind: the annual review process. I also enjoyed (!) the Tenure & Promotion process a few years ago, which is very similar, just a little bit higher stakes. Am I a glutton for punishment? Do I also enjoy visiting the dentist or gynecologist? No, I think find the review process meaningful because, at least so far, when I have paused to give account of myself professionally, I have come out on the plus side.
My friend Nichole, also an academic--and one whose good opinion I value and want to keep--helped me start the process this year. She has told me several times that she ought to hang out a shingle for all the counseling she gives me. I don't argue with her. This time, I was bemoaning my lack of discipline and motivation for writing. "Whitlock," she said, "what are you talking about? You spent a year interviewing people for your book. And you had an edited collection published this year!" I guess, I told her, I hadn't thought about those. I tend to focus on the writing that I don't get done. I wonder if other academics do that. I wonder if other women academics do it. It is a very prohibitive and debilitating habit.
With that in mind, I approached my annual review, which this year must meticulously be entered into an online system. One good thing about having to enter each tiny part of publication information into separate fields is that you can't miss what you've done! In the hope that I won't lose sight of it this time and thereby break my nasty habit of null productivity (I made that up just now), here is a list of what I have done this year:
I was invited to speak at TCU as part of the Green Honors Chair Lecture Series. I was awarded a sabbatical (see previous post). I chaired a dissertation committee and served as external member on two from Georgia Southern. I wrote a book review that I'm now revising, and I have one book chapter in press and one published. I wrote an invited afterword in a special edition of a journal. I was invited by the dean to give a lecture in her speaker series. I gave three conference presentations. I researched for a book. As far as service (the bane of most academics' existence), I am associate department chair. I served on a department-level tenure and promotion committee and on a college-level one. I taught an online course for the first time (and liked it!). And: I started seminary at Emory's Candler School of Theology and moved from my apartment into a bungalow in Atlanta. I started back to church and joined the choir. I made new friends and reconnected with old
ones.
All in all, this has been one of the best years I've ever had.
Yes--other women academics do it.
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