Archive for the ‘academia’ Category
There is a symposium for early career management doctoral students. You should apply!
he Southern Management Association (SMA) is pleased to offer a Pre-Doctoral Consortium which will be held October 28th at the 2015 SMA Annual Meeting in St. Pete Beach, Florida. The Consortium is designed to help those who are committed to, or seriously considering, earning a doctoral degree. The goals of the Consortium include: (1) helping students to gain a better understanding of key factors to consider in applying to doctoral programs, and (2) to provide students with a “realistic preview” of life as a doctoral student and beyond as faculty. We are seeking applicants and we hope that you will help us inform students who may be interested in pursuing a doctoral program.
The Consortium will award $500 stipends to invited participants. In addition, breakfast and lunch on the day of the Consortium will be provided, courtesy of SMA, and there will be a networking reception in the evening.The deadline for consortium application is June 28, 2015. All applicants must submit(a) An application form (attached),(b) A recommendation letter from a current or former faculty member,(c) A copy of their vita (resume), and(d) A photocopy of their government issued ID in order to verify that they will have attained the age of 21 on or before October 27th, 2015.Please send any questions or submit consortium registration materials electronically to Dr. Aaron Hill, Oklahoma State University, at firstname.lastname@example.org.
On Twitter, Brad Spahn asked:
What would you change about your dept to make faculty & grad students happier and more productive? Hold U-wide rules fixed.cc @fabiorojas
— Brad Spahn (@BradSpahn) March 20, 2015
I actually had two answers: First, eliminate the monthly/weekly faculty meeting. But our department already did that!! Except for “big” issues like hiring or curriculum rewrites, we leave most decision making to our elected executive committee. Also, we genuinely try to reduce required meetings.
My real answer, though, was “make all dissertations three chapters.” One of the biggest time wasters in academia is this belief that dissertations are the huge, 500 page master works. That is WRONG, but you do get bonus points for being brilliant in a thesis. The REAL purpose of the dissertation is to show the faculty and wider scientific and scholarly community that you have (a) mastered the current literature/techniques of your field and (b) you can produce new analysis and knowledge. Thus, the standard for a dissertation is “scholarly competence,” not “highest level mastery.” This is true for all programs from the most humble to the top of the profession.
Once you buy that, then the question becomes: what format is the most efficient way to teach scientific competence? Three chapters is probably the best. Since half of PhD don’t teach or do research, there is no point in doing more. Even when people go into university positions, almost all science disciplines require articles. History is the only social science that is not primarily article based. Even in the humanities, many fields are article based (philosophy, linguistics, etc). And even if you are in a book oriented field, like English, why not write a few articles unless you are gunning for the R1 market?
The policy of “three article default” makes people happier and productive. Students have a concrete expectation. There is a stopping point to the dissertation. If they do academia, the format will help them. It is easier on faculty in that we no longer need to manage these mongo dissertations. More time for other work.
Brad thought I was slamming book. I am not – I have written two academic books! But most people don’t do what I do for a living so why not let them default to three articles? And remember, it’s a default – not a rule. If you really, really have a book in your dissertation, you can do it. But most students would be way happier doing three articles.
The organizational sociology of higher education is having a moment. Elizabeth Armstrong and Johanna Massé have written about it recently (and even more recently here), Michael Kirst and Mitchell Stevens have a new volume out on the topic (I’ll be writing more on that soon), and Amy Binder, whose work is very organizational, is chair of ASA’s generally strat-heavy Education Section.
Maybe it’s because there are so many changes going on in higher education right now that simply can’t be understood without thinking about organizations and the fields they are located within. From the Wisconsin budget cuts, to the effects of proliferating rankings, to the internationalization of universities, to the impact of organizational culture on student experience, tons of organizational questions are begging for answers.
Anyway, I’m editing a volume of Research in the Sociology of Organizations on “The University Under Pressure” with Catherine Paradeise, to be published in January 2016. We’ve got some great contributions from a trans-Atlantic group of authors including Dick Scott, Georg Krücken, Philippe Laredo, Christine Musselin, Amy Binder, Daniel Kleinman, Joe Hermanowicz, and others. And while the volume has mostly come together already, one free slot has opened up.
So if you have a paper in the works that you think makes a contribution to the organizational sociology of higher ed, send it my way. There’s some focus on comparing the U.S. and European experiences, but many of the articles look at a single country. And despite the title, it doesn’t have to be about universities: writing about community colleges from an organizational angle? Great.
The catch is that it needs to be either written already or ready for review quite soon — say, within the next month. On the plus side, if it’s accepted, you can expect it to be in print within the year. (And if it’s not, you’ll know quite soon.)
Just about all of us care about the future of the university. It’s time for organizational sociologists to do a better job of helping us understand it.
When people look at PhD programs, they usually base their judgment on the fame of its scholars or the placement of graduates. Fair enough, but any seasoned social scientist will tell you that is a very imperfect way to judge an institution. Why? Performance is often related to resources. In other words, you should expect the wealthiest universities to hire away the best scholars and provide the best environment for training.
Thus, we have a null model for judging PhD program (nothing correlates with success) and a reasonable baseline model (success correlates with money). According to the baseline, PhD program ranks should roughly follow measures of financial resources, like endowments. Thus, the top Ivy League schools should all have elite (top 5) programs in any field in which they choose to compete, anything less is severe under performance. Similarly, for a research school with a modest endowment to have a top program (say Rutgers in philosophy) is wild over performance.
According to this wiki on university endowments, the top ten wealthiest institutions are Harvard, Texas (whole system), Yale, Stanford, MIT, Texas A&M (whole system), Northwestern, Michigan, and Penn. This matches roughly with what you’d expect, except that Texas and Texas A&M are top flight engineering and medicine but much weaker in arts and sciences (compared to their endowment rank). This is why I remain impressed with my colleagues at Indiana sociology. Our system wide endowment is ranked #46 but our soc programs hovers in that 10-15 range. We’re pulling our weight.
Grants, grants, grants. Every academic likes getting them. And every administrator wants more of them. In some fields, you can’t be an active researcher without them. In all fields, the search for grants grows ever more competitive.
PLOS recently published the results of a survey of the grant-writing process in the U.S. Drawing on a nonrandom sample of astronomers and social & personality psychologists, and asking about their applications to NASA (astronomers), NIH (psychologists), and NSF (both), they reported their researchers having applied for four grants in the past four years, on average, and received one. Proposals took an average of 116 hours to write.
While respondents did note some non-pecuniary benefits to grant-writing, comments suggested that many researchers simply gave up after repeated failures, judging it a poor use of their time. In the words of one respondent:
I applied for grants from the NSF in 2004, 2005, 2006 and 2007….Most of the reasons given for not funding were that funds were too tight that particular year and that I should reapply the next year since the proposal had merit…I finally just gave up.
The authors, who start with the certainly-debatable-but-not-totally-baseless assumption that funding is fairly random (see these cites), make some rough calculations to come to the conclusion that when the funding rate is at 20%, half of grant applicants will be forced to abandon their efforts after three failed attempts, with a rate of more like 2/3 for previously unfunded researchers.
Now, this is a limited study and there is plenty of room to argue about the data it uses and the assumptions it makes. But few would disagree with its conclusion: “20% funding rates impose a substantial opportunity cost on researchers by wasting a large fraction of the available research time for at least half of our scientists, reducing national scientific output.”
And 20% is the good scenario these days. The National Institute on Aging, one of NIH’s major funders of sociology research, recently announced paylines at the 7th (for under-$500k grants) and 4th (for over-$500k grants) percentiles. That’s incredibly competitive.
Yet at the same time, universities, desperate for revenues, are pushing harder and harder for researchers to bring in grants, with those sweet, sweet indirect costs. I know mine is. When I arrived at SUNY Albany seven years ago, I was happy that the university seemed to treat grants as a bonus—something nice to have, not something required by them. This was a contrast with at least one other place I interviewed.
But that’s less the case now. I won’t go into details here. But suffice it to say that the pressure on the department to bring in grants is steady and increasing. And while this may not be happening everywhere, it’s certainly common, particularly at cash-strapped public universities. It’s even worse, of course, in the soft-money parts of higher ed, like med schools.
The thing is, it’s simply not a viable strategy. Unless the pool of grant funding is massively increased at the federal level—a remote possibility—this is a zero-sum game. And so we’re left with what is basically a variation on the tragedy of the commons problem. Rational individuals (or individuals responding to their employers’ rational demands) will write more grant applications, since doing so still probably increases one’s chances of being funded. And if everyone else is working harder and harder to secure grant funding, maintaining constant effort will likely result in a decreasing payoff.
But what a collective waste of resources. The PLOS article cites research suggesting that university faculty spend an average of 10.7 (public universities) to 14.5 (private universities) hours per week on research during the semester. Even assuming grant-writers are finding somewhat more time for research, grant-writing still takes half a semester’s research time or so. Yes, there’s some intellectual benefit to the grant-writing process. But probably not so much to writing multiple unfunded grants.
My modest proposal is to cap the number of applications—either at the individual level, or the institutional level. Or perhaps establish a lottery for the right to submit in a given round. I can think of disadvantages to that—why should the best (or at least most fundable) researchers not be able to apply as often as they want? But the goal here isn’t to share the wealth—it’s to waste less of our collective time.
In the meanwhile, the ever-growing pressure for external funding in an environment of flat-at-best resources is itself throwing money out the window. At a time of intense pressure to do more with less, this is the biggest irony of all.
An article at the John William Pope Center discusses independent scholars:
Whenever administrators cut costs, they typically do so at the expense of faculty. Universities hire adjuncts instead of tenure-track instructors, because they rarely receive benefits, have no contract, and earn as little as $18,000 a year. More than 40 percent of teaching staff at universities are now adjuncts… How are some scholars coping with this destructive system? By leaving it altogether. Margaret Hiley did this. She was a lecturer in literature in England but didn’t like the paperwork, teaching restrictions, and arbitrary university procedures. As a bilingual native speaker of English and German, the few enjoyable parts of her academic life were freelance translation.
Then she had an epiphany—why not buck the university system and go completely freelance?
Margaret contacted all her old clients and university colleagues. She put up a website and joined a professional association for translators. She took a course on self-employment. After a year of building up a client list, she quit her job as a lecturer. Margaret now has a near-endless number of projects from academic publishers and private scholars. She is able to charge £90 per 1,000 words of translation from German to English and earns far more than she ever did at a university.
She is part of a growing number of scholars who are taking their academic knowledge to the open market and profiting in ways unthinkable at a traditional university.
Comments: Independent scholarship has always existed, but usually as a small slice compared to the academy. As bad as the academy is, and I agree it is nasty for many, it does provide a stable platform for people to sit around and write 45 page articles on Chaucer. This is very, very hard to sustain outside the system. Also, on an emotional level, many would find it hard to sustain the interest outside the system. But I do agree that adjuncts are no so poorly paid that part time work outside the system is preferable and would be an adequate “day job” for many.
Ryan Boundinat is a former MFA writing instructor. He has some blunt talk about MFA programs:
- If you didn’t decide to take writing seriously by the time you were a teenager, you’re probably not going to make it.
- If you complain about not having time to write, please do us both a favor and drop out.
- If you aren’t a serious reader, don’t expect anyone to read what you write.
I may disagree with some points (e.g., he over emphasizes the “you are born to do it”), but overall, I agree with the article. The defining feature of the professional is … professionalism. For writers, that means organizing your like around books, reading books, writing books, and thinking about books. This is also true about academia. If you find your classes boring, research boring, and can’t get out of bed to do it, well, this isn’t the job for you.