There’s been some brief discussion in and around my department regarding the role of contingent faculty (i.e. non tenure-track/tenured faculty) in the department’s governance. Our organizational plan allows these faculty a 1/2 vote on "non-personnel" issues. However, in my experience, this vote has rarely been exercised. Though we invite contingent faculty to attend department meetings, they are not required to do so. Now there has been some discussion of whether or not contingent faculty should have a vote in the election of department chair. It’s been concluded that neither department nor SUNY policy would afford them this right.

I don’t want to comment on that conclusion. But the whole matter did get me thinking about this in broader terms. I suppose one could say that it makes sense that contingent faculty have a vested, personal and professional interest in who gets elected chair, just like tenured and tenurable faculty.
Beyond this though I believe there is a strong desire among contingent faculty to be recognized as equal colleagues in the department. Participation in department governance is clearly a part of that.

Here’s the difficult part. We don’t ask contingent faculty to do service or advise students or otherwise participate in the department beyond their responsibilities as course instructors. The simple fact is that they aren’t paid very well, and it would be impolitic, indeed unethical, to ask them to undertake this work. When viewed in terms of labor, department governance is just more work that needs to be done. However, when a department is viewed as a community, as an academic commons, then governance is the right and responsibility of its citizens. Like any community, in any department, some members will be more active than others. In this respect, community participation should not be required but rather encouraged and supported. The question is how or when to view a department activity as work, when to view it as community participation, and when perhaps to view it as a professional, career-building activity.

If we view all our activities strictly as labor, then we would say to contingent faculty (as we might often say to ourselves for that matter), don’t do anything "extra." I have not forgotten the primary piece of advice I was given before entering my first tenure-track job: learn to say "no." However, you can’t really become part of a community by saying "no" all the time. That wasn’t the point of the advice. The point was to not become so buried in obligations that my teaching or scholarship suffered. Of course, we all do "extra" all the time, including contingent faculty, when they meet repeatedly with students working on their papers. There are contingent faculty teaching in Professional Writing who have managed to make it to more of our students’ open mic readings than I have (though I swear I will be there on Friday!). Another instructor has made service learning connections with the community for his class. Others have voluteered to lead workshops with our student literary magazine association.

Who would tell these committed faculty not to do this work they freely enter into? Who would wish to take away the value they are adding to our community?

Some might consider such acts a poor political decisions (who will buy the cow etc, etc.). But perhaps not. Perhaps generosity is a savvy response to the miserly actions of higher education.

I believe one of the biggest challenges in this regard is professional development. Let me note right at the start that by this I do not mean that contingent faculty are unqualified to do their jobs! All faculty require professional development. For tenured/tenurable faculty, this development is part of our job, and its scope and nature are largely self-determined or come out of our participation in our discipline at large. For contingent faculty, professional development is not part of the job. In our discipline this problem can be reinforced by perception (among non-rhetoricians) that writing instruction (of the kind contingent faculty most often do) does not require professional, disciplinary knowledge, that there is no professional development associated with it!

From a department perspective, one cannot require professional development. However, my experience is that contingent faculty are intellectually curious and thoughtful humans (the way one might hope all academics to be) and might welcome an opportunity for professional development, if the content of that development were not predetermined for them (who would want that? I mean who would want to step into a room where someone else had predetermined the readings, the topics of conversation, and the work? right?). Again, if professional development is viewed as labor, as a means of improving the college product, then we must insist these faculty get paid for their time. On the other hand, reviewing research, discussing teaching experiences, and evaluating new practices, technologies, textbooks, etc. is an important part of being in an academic community. Furthermore, some of our contingent faculty may be looking to advance in their careers, either by landing better positions at Cortland or moving elsewhere. Professional development can be an important part of boosting one’s career. I know that when I was contingent faculty at Georgia Tech, I took classes and volunteered for a pilot program and so on. Of course, I knew I was looking to find a tenure-track job somewhere else, so it really does depend on what one’s objective is.

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2 responses to “academic community and academic labor”

  1. Can’t stop myself from commenting here, although I don’t mean to monopolize your comments section and I know no more of the specific circumstances than you have represented. So, consider these general observations applicable to the profession as a whole. First this:
    “I mean who would want to step into a room where someone else had predetermined the readings, the topics of conversation, and the work? right?”
    So true, on so many different levels/contexts. The thing with “professional development” is that it often assumes that practitioners *are not* “intellectually curious” on their own terms or that they are not developing themselves professionallly on their own, outside of some bureaucratic supervision. Who is to say that just because one is a “contingent faculty” that they are not already engaged in all of those activities that are associated with “professional development”?
    I guess I wonder about the notion of even speaking about “contingent faculty” as if they were a sort of subspecies of tenured-track faculty — I know that you’re not doing that here and the discourse is intrinsic to the preexisting problem — and who require some kind of enhancement by virtue of rank or status. I wonder how much providing “professional development” is more about assuaging the institution’s own “guilt” and thus a panacea for larger inequities — my guess is that most instructors would prefer that the financial resources used for professional development be channeled into their own paychecks instead.
    And then a response to this: “However, when a department is viewed as a community, as an academic commons, then governance is the right and responsibility of its citizens. Like any community, in any department, some members will be more active than others. In this respect, community participation should not be required but rather encouraged and supported. ”
    And this: “Some might consider such acts a poor political decisions (who will buy the cow etc, etc.). But perhaps not. Perhaps generosity is a savvy response to the miserly actions of higher education.”
    Just to note, you missed a really interesting guest lecture on this subject the year after you left GT. (“The Mental Labor Problem,” Social Text, 2000) Speaking of genealogy, there is an entire genealogy to the academic service/sacrifice mentality that can be traced back to the noble gentleman scholar of the 19th C. yet is now exploited (can I say that I word?) by not-so-noble academic corporations. Exploited tradition of generosity. Maybe more indignation and less civilized “professional development”? Sometimes I cannot help but read “professional development” in the (post)colonialist light of uncivilized natives needing to be brought into the fold and thereby a retroactive rationalization of lower compensation. Dare I say?

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  2. I think we agree CM. No doubt the crux of the problem here is salary inequity, along with job security. In my context, that’s a union issue and one that is SUNY-wide. I think it is possible to work on that issue and simultaneously work to make life better locally by whatever means we can invent. No doubt the latter is not a substitute for the former, but I don’t see that as an excuse to do nothing.
    Let me reiterate that I do not see professional development as something that contingent faculty especially require. Professional development is part of academic life, just as its part of most professional lives. You want your pharmacist to know about the newest medications, right? In a similar light, I’d think you’d want your college professor to be familiar with the latest disciplinary knowledge and teaching methods–not so that s/he can embrace them uncritically, but rather so that an informed choice can be made.
    I can appreciate that the term “professional development” leaves a bad taste in the mouth. It resonates with top-down initiatives that always set an academic’s teeth on edge (and for good reason). However, I think of my work right here in the blogosphere as professional development. It’s not exactly scholarship (at least no one is going to “count” it that way) and it isn’t teaching or service.
    In any case, my point is not that contigent faculty may not be engaged in professional development, only that the way their jobs are constructed does not make that activity easy. And in fact, to the extent that we define such activity as labor, there are mixed feelings associated with engaging in it.
    Perhaps an instiution may seek to assuage some guilt by offering professional development. If that’s the case then they otherwise hide their guilt fairly well.
    Anyway, maybe the example of professional development brings up another source of discontent.
    Here’s what my main point was trying to be:
    Contingent faculty are poorly compensated but they also want to be recognized as colleagues within an academic community. I can recognize that and would like to support the latter without undermining efforts to correct the former.
    However the difficulty lies in the contradictions between viewing academic activity as labor and viewing such activities as part of a communal life. CM points to the genealogy of the latter concept and the ways in which it is capitalized by a corporatizing university. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, the way that market pressures dismantle a range of professions: medical,legal,academic , and so on.
    Does abiding by professional ethics and valuing the notion of an academic community mean nothing more than laying ourselves open for institutional exploitation by an administration that no longer shares those values?
    Does it mean buying into the colonialist ideology that spawned such values or is it possible to develop alternative ethics and communities?
    Can we develop ethical communal practices that serve as a source of strength against the marketplace and will make life better for contingent faculty and everyone else in the academic community? The result might be an institution and educational experience that could serve as an example for other sectors of society.
    Of course all that is idealistic, and I’m more interested in making things a little better today and tomorrow right here.

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