Tag Archives: job market

The wisdom of percolation

The other week a colleague and I did a presentation for Ph.D. students about the job market.  She told them that when she started looking for jobs her own adviser told her that it’s not that difficult to find job, but to find a job that leads to or amounts to a career takes about four to five years on average in academia.

I could see the desperation and disillusionment in the students’ eyes, but deep inside, I sighed a bit.  Her words reminded me that we so often look at others around us and all we see is where they are now, the fruits of their hard work, and we assume things came quickly and easily to them, probably—no–definitively, more quickly and easily than they came for us.

But what if that’s not the truth?  What if I reminded you today that good things take time?  And that the good things that others have, those took time, too.  

See, despite my sigh, I saw myself in the eyes of those students.  Here I am not even three months into my new job and I’ve been beating myself up a bit, because I haven’t made it around to all that much of my writing, I don’t have a clear three-year vision for this appointment, and I’m not sure what role I can or should play in institutional change.

But it’s been three months.  

And my expectations crammed into those short months, for the next three years, reek of impatience, perhaps even faithlessness.  I wouldn’t expect to take a new job in a church and within three months implement dramatic changes.  No, I’d recognize and routinize the value in listening, observing, taking in what’s God is and has already been doing before ploughing boldly ahead.

So I’m drawn these days to something like the wisdom of percolation, to recognizing and valuing that if we people work hard for years beneath the shadows, then surely God needs time to work, too.  That perhaps we’ve got it all wrong: time is not against us, but for us, in that it takes time to understand, to learn, and to grow, and God wants us to have and to hold and to enjoy that time with God.  I would and can afford that time to my students, but it’s a bit more difficult when it comes to me.

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Fall in Washington, DC.  Photo by Evan Schneider.

But maybe, just maybe, I’m right where I need to be.

Maybe you are, too.

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An attitude of abundance

The other day I was sitting with a new colleague talking about the competitiveness and anxiety that fills the air this time of the year, especially for those of us who are “on the job market” in academia.  I found myself urging him to adopt a mentality of abundance, rather than one of scarcity, and he was pleasantly shocked by the advice.

I’ve heard others talk about attitudes of abundance before, but I never knew quite what they meant by them and wondered if such mentalities weren’t just convenient excuses to escape from reality.  But as this colleague and I talked more and more and I reflected on my experience these last seven years (!) pursuing a Ph.D., it occurred to me that the generous and treasured relationship I have with my own cohort of budding anthropologists is one of abundance.

Since early on we have endeavored to build one another up when other cohorts around us succumb to insidious competitiveness and one-up-man-ship. We have believed that we’re not really competing for the same jobs, because it’s all about fit–what would work for me necessarily wouldn’t work for many in my cohort and in vice versa.  On the flip side, many academics ascribe to an economy of scarcity in which there aren’t enough jobs to go around and one must fight tooth and nail, whatever the cost, to wrest them from the hands of others, even if they’re valued friends and colleagues.

Lantau Island, Hong Kong.  Photo by Evan Schneider.
Lantau Island, Hong Kong. Photo by Evan Schneider.

“But isn’t that reality?” my new friend asked me. “At some point don’t you have to admit that there actually are less jobs out there than there are people and accept that reality?”

But is that reality?  Might the reality be that there if there are but a small number of “good” tenure-track jobs, those jobs probably aren’t a great fit for most people, because there are also a lot of wonderful babies to be had, which require time off, there’s wonderful family to enjoy in life and they’re not always next to the “good” jobs, there’s wonderful students in many, many, places, there’s other great career tracks that lead outside of academia, and suddenly there aren’t so many people clamoring for the same jobs and they don’t look so “good” anymore?

This type of abundance isn’t illogical or idealistic but very practical.  When we sacrifice what we truly  want or need to what the world tells us, we end up with scarcity, but when we pursue our career with a passion for serving others, the opportunities abound.  What’s more, it is actually possible to rejoice when others succeed, rather than just in one’s own successes. It not only makes us better people to be able to enjoy the success of others, but it makes for a better world! Finally, I think that’s what’s often getting edited out of these grand discussions on academic job markets–that teaching is a service vocation, that when it comes down to it, it’s not even about us and what job we want, but what job we can use to reach the students who make our jobs necessary and possible.

The view from Lantau Island, HK.  Photo by Evan Schneider.
The view from Lantau Island, HK. Photo by Evan Schneider.

My new friend stared blankly at me and commented that it was refreshing to find someone with this kind of attitude, but talking about this kind of abundance with him was also rejuvenating for me.  It reminded me why I do what I do, that numbers and markets are not so straight forward and they don’t have to rule my life, and that everyday is a choice.  Everyday we choose whether to live in a world of abundance or one of scarcity.

Today, I choose abundance.  What about you?

p.s. For more on where this abundance comes from, see my post on the God of Abundance!