Due to a gross miscalculation about the length of time it takes to complete a dissertation, my husband and I were both dissertating when our first son arrived.
I had one of those horror birth stories. Labor for 12 hours. Forceps. Emergency C-section. Oops with a scalpel and then another 6 hours in surgery repairing my bladder.
I slowly healed and quickly finished the dissertation in one year during the baby’s naps. My husband was also home working on his dissertation and would have finished in that year if he didn’t have an advisor from hell. Since there is no support for graduate students with families, the only way we were able to survive was through help from my folks and WIC.
When the money ran out, my husband quickly got a temp job that turned into a real job. A job with benefits and a salary that could pay off the student loans and support a family, unlike an academic job. With his history degree, he had little hope of securing a job anyway. And the chances of the two of us finding academic jobs in the same city were very slim. On the other hand, his traditional job is very demanding, and he has little flexibility. Now, I have 95% of the family responsibilities.
When I defended my dissertation, I got my first glimpse of my future. Right after a question on the merits of school vouchers, one of the men on my committee asked if I was planning on having more kids. I lied and said no. Correct answer. Next week, he let me know that there was a position opening at his school.
I went in for the interview. My presentation went well and then I met with the individual faculty members who vetted me. All were guys, except one. That woman didn’t ask me any questions, but just told me how bad this job was for her. All the classes were in the evening, so she never saw her child. Since she was a single mom, her illiterate nanny had to help the kid with her homework.
The job wasn’t right for me and I adjuncted for a year. The next year, I interviewed for another position. On the day of the interview, I was eight months pregnant and at that stage when the bellybutton pops out and you waddle, rather than walk. The interview started out fine. But as the day went on, I realized that by that fall I would have to teach three new classes and breast feed a two month old baby and worry about the three year old. The university did not have a childcare service, and would not let me have a lighter load that first semester. Childcare costs would outstrip my salary. The more I was told about the tenure requirements, I knew there was no way I could do it all.
It worked out for the best. I really enjoy raising my kids myself. I’ve still managed to adjunct and write here and there. I like making my own course in the world.
But my career has suffered a semi-fatal blow. The academy might never take back someone with major gaps on her resume. Makes me wonder why I bothered.
Apt. 11d 
They might. I also have gaps. I took especially long on the dissertation, partially because I procrastinate, and partially because I led a life not academic. I married while on my research year abroad, to someone I met there. The marriage entailed taking on a pre-teen who lived with us exclusively. Why I did this is another discussion — suffice it to say my own baggage included thinking I was incomplete, if single. Needless to say, not much got done for the first year or two of adjusting and having to pull my own weight — which I tried to do by teaching EFL full-time. I also somehow ended up being responsible for the house and child — partially my own fault, I admit.
We moved back to the states after a couple of years, not to where I was a student, but near my family in one of the most expensive towns in the country, where we both found underpaid work. Kid still going through teen/stepchild/new country adjustment. My job was one of those serious overtime, on-call jobs — my boss called me at my parents one time to ask me to come in on a Saturday to help him on his presentation for the board the following Wednesday. The spouse got offered a transfer to the Pacific NW — if we paid for most of the expenses. We took it — more adjustment time. I went back to waitressing, thinking I could get more done on the semi-abandoned diss, and called around looking for adjunct work, but was told there wasn’t much point. Gave up, got a ‘real job’ during the dot-com boom, making more money than I’d ever made before, benefits, etc. Long hours and travel, but I was good at it. Finished my diss — partially because my boss let me take two weeks off to finish, as I was now heading towards the do-or-die cutoff. Got laid off a week later, hubby got laid off a week after that. After 5 months, during which I really didn’t think about teaching, since I’d figured I’d screwed myself there, connections from my old job got me a new, better paying job. That company died partially as a result of 9/11. By now, child has graduated from high school.
I started temping, and the spouse, not really understanding what it meant in terms of logistics to go back to teaching, suggests I try again. I start adjuncting as an emergency replacement the following quarter, and have been teaching ever since. I’m on a one-year gig now, at a CC — my gaps are seen as life experience and my hiring committee saw my coming back as a mature decision to do what I love, because I know I can make money elsewhere. I’ve used that approach (which is the truth) on job applications and it seems not to have harmed me too much. I don’t apply for jobs at Research I schools, because I don’t have the publication record necessary, but am slowly trying to get back into that groove, too. Still, it’s not the approach I would recommend, and I often wonder if being past the kids-at-home stage helps to balance things out. What do you think?
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My first child was delivered emergency c-section after a surprise placental abruption at 26.5 weeks. I was working full-time, enrolled in six hours towards my BA, living a regular full life which, of course, screeched to a complete halt. I became pregnant again when #1 was only 13 months old, unplanned, and was prescribed partial bedrest. I went back to school when the second child was about three years old. I worked full-time as a legal secretary so when I did return, it was to night coursework, an adjustment for one with small children, and I started off small with one class.
I worked on my BA over the course of 17 years, except for the five-year hiatus, and just got it in 2003.
Currently working on the Master’s and began the program with absolute intentions of going on to get my Ph.D. Two months into the MA program, I changed my mind. People still tell me to this day (just tonight in fact) that I should go on with the work. I answer that it’s taken much more time away from my family than I ever thought it would, that my children are still young, and I don’t want to live another three to four years (not to mention the relocation required and the depressed job market – literature) absent from vital parts of their day. I truly think that most people in my life don’t understand this at all and those who do seem to understand, do so only because they are inclined to be empathetic anyway. The fact that I feel most people don’t understand heaps much upon my already deflated sense of purpose now that I know I’ll live my life without doing this. It’s a choice and I’m making it: my family is more important and I love them more. I’d rather be with them than working on a doctorate when the work requires such extreme absenteeism. But I am an individual, as well, and I will miss this as part of my life. My current plan is to try adjunct teaching. The flexibility appeals to me (versus the 8-5 existence I had before) but the salary, of course, will add nothing to our household.
I don’t regret quitting my job to work on the MA; I needed to devote the full-time work to it to experience it, love it, and realize I couldn’t go on, but I also sometimes feel, why did I bother, because I did have flexible working conditions and a good salary, albeit a boring job.
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Life on the tenure track with one five year old cutie
Free to Be You and Me. The drawing creative book. Had it. The record. Had
it. Free to Be You and Me. Got it.
I grew up in the 1970s, in the Free to Be You and Me Decade. If I
worked hard, I could be anything I wanted to be. I could be a physicist
or lawyer or college professor and I could have a family. So I went to
grad school, got married, had a daughter and became a college professor
at a research university. I love my daughter and I love my job.
It’s taken me until tonight to add my thoughts to my friend’s blog.
The reason is fairly simple. I work three shifts and I have not had time.
Up at 5am to swim, back home to get my daughter up, dressed, fed and then
off to drop her off at kindergarten – full time private
because public is 2 1/2 hours. (????? in 2004 how could this possibly be?
but it is). Then off to school. Teach, research, service, and lots of it.
5pm. Out the door (except tonight when I guest taught a class and
couldn’t get home on time so her dad got her).
2nd shift.
Pick up daughter, back home, dinner, bath, stories. bed.
3rd shift.
Back to work – finish course prep – respond to student emails and all
sorts of things that now arrive by email that require responses – edit
paper – grade papers etc…
sleep. I love sleep.
Middway through the semester I find it really hard to get up to swim
consistently. I get really grouchy and seriously tired by Thursday. A
large pink elephant could have moved into my house on Tuesday but there
is little chance I’ll notice. If I didn’t do it on Sat or Sun, there’s a
good chance whatever it is won’t get done unti the following weekend.
Days slip – staying up very late finishing course prep makes swimming
difficult–before tt I was swimming 6 days a week with decent mileage and
good times.
This is my second year on the tenure track and it’s getting easier. I
only stay up a few nights a week. I try to skip working at night one
night a week. tonight is my I’m too tired to work night. I did of course
respond to student emails and took care of administrative stuff but I’m
not doing any big thinking. I’m simply too tired.
On the weekends I used to get a few hours each day to get some work done
during nap time and then again at night. As my daughter has grown older
I’ve now lost nap time and attempt to shove it all into the evening
hours. But it’s rough. Cleaning and laundry take up a good part of
Saturday. I could get some help but my spouse isn’t eager to have a
stranger in the house. But it’s hard. I’m tired, anxious about the
academic work I should be doing, and lack time to sit – to read the NYT
on Saturday morning – one of life’s little pleasures. Speaking of little
pleasures, I know it’s almost middway through the semester because the
New Yorkers are stacking up. Used to read them in one shot – the night
they came – eagerly devoured. Now I try not to see them as I dig back
into my stack of work.
Would I change anything. I don’t know. Full day public Kindergarten
would be good. Having major research universities back off some of the
many demands placed on people without tenure who happen to also be of
child bearing age would be great but it seems unlikely. Part of being
raised in the Free to Be You and Me time was that I really believed it.
But they seemed to have left out the part about being bone weary tired
during one’s 30s.
But I am happy. I have a wonderful daughter who has done well in
daycare and has lots of close friends. I have excellent colleagues –
wonderful mentors and very good friends. I’ve been very very lucky. I am
also exhuasted.
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British spam, but still spam.
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Blogs are good for every one where we get lots of information for any topics nice job keep it up !!!
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