Selling History to the Public

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A recent op-ed by Jim Grossman – “History isn’t a ‘useless’ major. It teaches critical thinking, something America needs plenty more of” – published earlier this week in the Los Angeles Times has made (and continues to make) the rounds on social media. Responses to the editorial are not surprising. Many, like me, reposted it to help circulate the message. Many more posted comments with the link to show their agreement with Grossman’s argument. Plenty of others challenged the claim that History is not a useless major; to quote one person who commented on the editorial (‘commenter2015’), “History is fun. But so is going to Six Flags, I wouldn’t major in it.”

What intrigued me were the handful of people on Twitter, fellow historians, who expressed frustration – not at the message of the editorial, but the fact that historians have to make this case over and over again. It seems that historians, and those who specialize in the humanities in general, are always on the defense. Politicians from both national parties mock the liberal arts (lest we forget President Obama’s infamous dig at Art History), funding for programs continues to dwindle, and now the soon-to-be nominee for the Republican Party is advocating an education plan that would actively discourage students from majoring in the liberal arts.

Those outside the profession may acknowledge the importance of learning past events, but the true meaning of studying history and the benefits it offers is still something a lot of people simply do not grasp. Coincidentally, the same day Grossman’s op-ed released, Patrick Johnson, the Vice Chancellor of Queen’s University Belfast, dropped a dismissive line in an interview, stating, “Society doesn’t need a 21-year-old who is a sixth century historian.” But, according to the Vice Chancellor, society does need, “a 21-year-old who really understands how to analyse things, understands the tenets of leadership and contributing to society, who is a thinker and someone who has the potential to help society drive forward.”

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Statements like this, or like the one stating History is “fun” but not worth majoring in, make historians and humanists alike want to bang their heads (repeatedly) against a wall (or desk, or door… any hard surface will suffice). Patrick Johnson’s description of an ideal graduate is – wait for it – a liberal arts major. Someone who can analyze (check), who is a thinker (check), and who can contribute to society/drive society forward/insert other generic comment about leadership here. That last point can apply to anyone, but it does not in any way exclude liberal arts majors, especially historians of the sixth century (solidarity, my medieval historian friends).

This is what is so maddening about the conversation, but it is also why pieces like Grossman’s are so important. For decades, humanists proclaim endlessly about the value of what we study, yet these words seem to fall on deaf ears every time. How do we change that? Grossman sells the economic value of majoring in history, because he has to. The idea of pursuing higher education that is not some blatant form of job training no longer makes sense to the general public. Degrees are investments, universities are businesses, and students go to college to get a job.

The discourse has grown so stark, it chills the bones.

Whether or not we will return to a day in which the value of education does not depend solely on economic returns is unclear. Maybe it will only happen in my dreams. Regardless, we (historians) know that history courses teach essential skills, and that history majors are in high demand, especially in the tech sector.

So why do we keep having this conversation?

Why are op-eds, like Grossman’s piece, still necessary, and yet still receive such criticism? Why do historians and humanists alike have to keep beating that poor, dead horse with the same defensive claims? What about this isn’t working?

I wish I had the answers. In my mind, the front line of history and public engagement is the classroom. Maybe that is where those in the liberal arts should focus (but certainly not limit) their attention. The classroom is the space in which we, the instructors, can at least show the next generation of economic and civic leaders what the liberal arts brings to the table. This would also mean a fundamental shift in the way academia values teaching, but that is a topic for another day.

Unless something changes, I do not see how this conversation can move forward. We seem to be stuck in a loop with each side talking past each other but never listening. There must be different tactics available to achieve some kind of progress.

But what if progress is already happening? Maybe the conversation has begun to change. It isn’t clear. Until we gain the distance of time to examine the shifting patterns of discourse, we may not yet be able to decipher and understand these developments. But engaging in that kind of analysis would require a certain set of critical skills… now, where on earth could we find that?

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On Graduating and the Loss of Identity

The months following graduation proved more challenging than expected. Not because of my first attempt to take on the bewildering, crushing academic job market. Also not because of the loss of purpose I once had while writing and editing my dissertation. Those experiences were certainly part of the challenges that awaited me after my mentor placed the doctoral hood around my neck and after my official diploma arrived in the mail.

I felt lost. Time passed, and the sense of feeling suspended between worlds persisted. It followed me as I took on the role of adjunct and lined up classes to teach at my (now) alma mater. It remained stuck at the edge of my mind as I scrolled through posts on social media. Spaces once filled with familiar topics about academia and teaching, carried on by familiar names and faces, became alien. My usual retorts or curious inquiries fell silent. I had no words to offer.

This shift confounded me. I felt a persistent sense of dread that I no longer knew who I was.

But that didn’t make sense. I accomplished so much (so I told myself). Friends and family passed along their congratulations and well wishes. Their kind words and excitement sat heavy like a rock deep in my core. I felt ashamed I didn’t share in that sense of pride for what I did. I earned a doctorate, and that alone is a challenging feat. Less than 2% of the population in the United States has done the same, and being a woman, I was part of the less-than one percent. Or so I was told.

I struggled to understand this sense of loss – to understand why, after finally achieving success, my world seemed so out of sorts. Nothing seemed clear until, months after the fact, I understood.

For seven and a half years, I was in two graduate programs, in two different schools, in two different states. Goal-oriented and motivated by some undefined source of willpower, I devoted a portion of my life to earning two graduate degrees. For what purpose, I still struggle to know, but graduate school was more than what I did – it became who I was. It got under my skin. It changed the way I spoke. It changed the way I dressed and how I carried myself. It utterly redefined my very being.

And then it ended.

Why else would graduation and achieving the one goal I’ve worked toward for the past several years have such a disconcerting effect? I didn’t simply graduate from a PhD program, I lost an essential part of my identity.

It took me three months to realize that.

For years I’ve introduced myself as a graduate student. Doing so can carry so many different meanings, which I found to be a convenient means of explaining or excusing myself (why I didn’t have a full-time job, why I often bemoaned my economic standing, why I never had time to do ______ or go to _____). I never completely understood how doing so, year after year, reshaped the way I thought of myself, or how I perceived of myself.

On social media outlets, especially Twitter, where I grew accustomed to conversing with an array of scholars – food and drink aficionados, and other intriguing, sharp-witted people – it was as though I forgot what to say. I followed conversations but seemed to lack the ability to join. Even in day-to-day conversations and encounters, I felt like part of my personality was gone, evaporated into the ether, and I was little more than a spiritless automaton.

I suppose that is the danger of making a temporary identity such a fundamental part of your being. It is now clear to me why the lack of success on the academic market is so emotionally destructive to so many. It isn’t about the job that didn’t pan out. I wonder now if it is ever about the job. People can research, write, and teach in many capacities outside of the academy. No – it is about coming to terms that you have to separate yourself from an all-encompassing identity. You have to acknowledge that your hope of turning your graduate student identity into the different, but still familiar assistant professor identity won’t happen. It is the realization you have to separate yourself from all that is recognizable and comfortable.

The realization that it is time not just to do something else, but to become someone else.

It took me three months to come to terms with this transition, and while there remains some creasing for the iron, I finally feel a sense of peace. I have new tasks and objectives now, offered in the form of full-time, “alternative-academic” employment. I see new ways to apply the knowledge and skills gained over the past decade. I also recognize that I am more than a grad student. I am more than my PhD. I am not my degree, and neither are you. Knowledge and education can shape us in powerful ways, but in the end it is up to us to chart our own paths and remain our own advocates.

Only time will tell what challenges come next.

Finding Success while Dissertating

The dissertation.

It’s a term that can spark an array of emotions in PhD candidates: excitement, fear, dread, exhaustion, curiosity, or even panic. A feeling that also emerges as one nears the end of such a monumental project is a growing sense of accomplishment. It is a feeling that, regardless of what may happen after graduation, one can look at their completed dissertation and say, “wrote that.”

Writing a dissertation is a remarkably difficult process. I can only speak of my experience working in the humanities, but I have no doubt that the difference of discipline in no way diminishes the challenges posed by constructing and writing original research. Oddly enough, before I took my comprehensive exams, I wasn’t that worried about the dissertation. I wrote a thesis while completing my Master’s degree in history, and I wrote so many papers for classes throughout my graduate career, the dissertation didn’t seem so daunting. Once I became immersed in the process, however, I felt a sense of shock at just how different the experience was.

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The dissertation stage is the point when many PhD candidates falter. The structure of coursework and exams vanishes. While you have an advisor and a committee to guide you and provide feedback through the process, you are responsible for the doing the research, and – most importantly – writing a cohesive manuscript that presents (and proves!) original research. That requires a great deal of self motivation, and finding that motivation is no easy feat.

While I still have a way to go – editing and writing the conclusion – I have drafted the bulk of my dissertation, and my committee chair felt confident in my ability to defend in the fall. It feels a bit surreal, and also underwhelming. The grind of editing is nothing to shrug off, and the conclusion, while I do have much of the research compiled and a thesis in mind, still does not exist. I know that steady work, though, will see me through to the end. By December of 2015, I should have my degree in hand.

Writing my dissertation has been an educational experience, to say the least. While the last thing the world needs is another blog post about writing a dissertation, I wanted to share some of the important lessons I learned throughout the process.

1.) Research takes a very long time.

Don’t underestimate the amount of time it takes to compile, read, and analyze the sources you need for a book-length project. I sorely misjudged how long it would take me to gather sources and determine how I might use them. Because of funding restrictions, some research trips forced (what I came to call) a ‘slash-and-burn’ approach to gathering materials. This was especially true for international research trips. Archives that allowed photographs became my favorite places in the world. I photographed as much as I could – anything that appeared like it might be useful. I gathered, and gathered…

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Researching at the National Archives UK.

When I returned home, the real challenge began. I converted the pictures into PDFs to make reading the picture files easier (I still have only done this for a fraction of the collections I looked at, simply due to the insane amount of time this converting process took.) Then, I found myself staring at thousands of pictures. For weeks. Months. I stared at pictures – squinting, zooming – doing everything I could to decipher the words written in a letter five centuries ago. I took notes. So many notes. All of this was simply to see if any of the documents fit into the idea of what I imagined my dissertation would be about.

Respect the research, but more importantly – respect the amount of time it requires.

2.) The project will change as you write.

I wrote three chapters before the overarching narrative of my dissertation became clear. The idea of a dissertation prospectus (the lengthy written overview of the project) that departments often require is to help you go into the research and writing process with a clear idea of what you want to accomplish. There is value in writing a prospectus, but the project I wrote about in that document bears zero resemblance to the dissertation I produced.

Many PhD students are familiar with this. They know going into the dissertation stage that the project will evolve, and it should evolve, based on the documents you use. Still, what I didn’t expect was how much the project would change when I was deep into the writing. The first few chapters were more like seminar papers, linked together by topic and timeframe, but the overarching connections were not clear. You don’t always know where the story will go until you write it. It wasn’t until I wrote the second-to-last body chapter that it started to make sense. This means I need to go back and revise the earlier chapters to fit the narrative, but at least I now have that sense of direction in mind.

Don’t let the shifting nature of the project deter you, though. Writing without a sense of direction is challenging, but it can also reveal unexpected changes in the narrative.

3.) The information you gather doesn’t mean anything until you write about it.

This was the best advice I received during the entire process. While I worked as a research fellow at the Fred W. Smith National Library for the Study of George Washington at Mount Vernon, Dr. Doug Bradburn, the Founding Director of the Library, often checked in on the fellows and offered his advice, especially to the fellows who were graduate students. During a conversation we had, Doug said, “You have all of this information in your head, but it is just mush – it doesn’t mean anything – until you write about it.” While slightly paraphrased, the meaning of this statement stuck with me. I struggled a lot with the ‘I have all of this stuff, what am I supposed to do with it?’ questions, but Doug’s advice helped me kick things into gear. Any time I became stuck or felt overwhelmed with the amount of work I had left to do, I recalled that advice, and I sat down to write.

It is only in the writing process that the meaning of documents, the direction of an argument, or even the narrative of the story becomes clear. So…

4.) Shut up and write.

This is a popular phrase used by writers. A quick Google search will bring up a litany of blog posts and other web pages that promote the mantra: “Shut up and write.” There is even a #shutupandwrite hashtag on Twitter. I made my own “motivational monk” who constantly looks down on my desk with these words displayed in his hand.

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Some have pushed back against this, viewing the phrase as a form of ‘shaming’ people into writing. Personally, I like it. It works for me. I combined that mantra with a daily word count goal popularized by L.D. Burnett’s “Grafton Line” challenge. The idea is to write every day with a word count goal in mind. I set mine at 500 words. I figured that writing 500 words a day roughly translated into a chapter per month. Most days I met that goal, other days… well, I did what I could. There were writing days when things flowed so well, I embodied the song, “Walking on Sunshine.” Other days, it took everything I had just to reach 500 words. Those days felt like true battles. But I stuck to it, and the results were surprising.

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I kept track of my daily progress in the Notes app on my phone. This helped keep me accountable.

At the start of the summer, my committee chair and I agreed to a plan: write two chapter drafts (the last two body chapters of my dissertation) before the start of the fall semester, and I could plan on defending before December. It felt daunting. I knew going into this plan that the last two chapters would be the most difficult. In the midst of those summer writing goal, I moved to a new city, I got married – you know, life kept happening. Still, every day, I sat down and I wrote. The first of the two chapter drafts went in July 3, and I submitted the second on August 14.

Daily goals and persistence resulted in over 100 pages of written work in about two months. While people may push back against feeling ‘shamed’ into writing, writing is the only way a dissertation will come into existence. If you don’t like ‘Shut up and Write,’ maybe try a ‘Just Do It,’ approach – though Nike may want some royalties for that…

The dissertation is a beast. While mine is not yet complete, I can see the finish line. There will be days when finishing it seems impossible. There will be days when you question your life choices. But there will also be days when you can look back through all of your drafts, see the massive amount of work you’ve done, and feel a sense of pride that you wrote that.

Best of luck to all the ‘dissertaters’ out there! Now, back to work…

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Gaining Time, Losing Structure: Hello, Summer

Finding time to write in the midst of teaching presents a number of challenges. This always makes the time between semesters seem especially appealing – oh, the things I could accomplish with that much time! The end of the semester, though, brings with it a loss of structure. For me, this makes establishing a routine crucial to ensuring stead progress over the summer months. Normally, I try to find some means of employment over the summer, but as my goal is to defend my dissertation in the fall (!!), I need as much time as possible to write and revise.

How to do this?

I’ve heard others discuss an array of strategies; some treat writing like a 9-5 job. They “clock in,” get to work, and when five o’clock hits, they “clock out.” I tried this approach for a few weeks, and I would categorize my success at this approach as mediocre (at best). Others have told me they have set days and a set location to work. For the three or four days that worked best for their schedule, they wrote as much as they possibly could. Again, I attempted to adopt aspects of this approach, but any interruptions to the schedule proved frustrating.

What I do need, though, is structure. I like to self-impose deadlines (finish drafting X chapter by X date; revise by X; submit – wash, rinse, repeat). I also agree that having a set location to work is crucial. Whether it be a coffee shop (which are just too noisy for me), a campus office (which are usually too busy with socializing), or a home office (my preferred setup), an established place to work is key. For awhile, I found myself bouncing between work stations, and it was a very unproductive experience.

One thing I did learn about myself when I attempted the 9-5 writing schedule is what hours proved to be the most productive. For me, 10-2 is ‘prime time’; for some reason, writing comes easier within that time block. Others have said that writing late at night or early in the morning is best for them. Finding that time that works for you can be tricky, but once it is established, stick with it.

Two o’clock is the true doldrums of the day. (Image credit: “*head-desk*,” [insert nifty phrase])

With time and place nailed down, it’s just a matter of doing it. My goal is to write every day; it doesn’t always happen, because life doesn’t necessarily fit with my schedule. Still, to write something each day is a way to hold myself accountable. When I do write, I aim to reach 500 words. This is something that resulted from a post written by LD Burnett on her blog, “Saved By History.” In what she called “The Grafton Line,” Burnett found that setting a word count goal that was manageable for every day writing resulted in great progress. After reading that post I determined to try to write 500 words per day; that roughly translate to a chapter per month. If I stick to this goal throughout the summer, there is no reason why I should not be in a good place to defend in the fall. Hopefully, it will also result in a steadier stream of blog posts, but only if dissertation progress occurs.

This is simply my take on ways to find structure in what can be structure-less time. What tactics do you use to research or write in-between or during teaching assignments?

Alt-Ac Panel at UTA: Starting the Conversation

On February 17, the College of Liberal Arts at UTA held the first in a series of panel discussions and workshops on alternative-academic careers (commonly referred to as “alt-ac”) for PhD students. Much credit goes to Dr. Les Riding-In, Assistant Dean for Academic Affairs, for organizing this panel and establishing the College’s interest in helping students find success post-graduation. The purpose of this first panel discussion was, in essence, to begin the conversation between COLA and PhD students about career opportunities that exist beyond the tenure-track. The panel consisted of three presenters: Dr. Brenda Davis, Student Development Specialist at the UTA Office of Graduate Studies; Dr. Eric Bolsterli, Assistant Dean for Academic Affairs in the College of Liberal Arts; and myself, ABD doctoral candidate in the transatlantic history PhD program.

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From left to right: Dr. Bolsterli, Dr. Davis, and myself.

The panel discussed a wide spectrum of topics; I presented on the necessity of learning what career opportunities exist beyond tenure-track positions, Eric Bolsterli recounted his experience following the completion of his degree and how he managed to find work as an administrator, and Brenda Davis covered the different strategies PhD students can use to find and apply for non-faculty positions. As the panel presented, Les Riding-In gathered questions written by those in attendance regarding their biggest fears in facing the job market, or life after graduation.

In my presentation, I emphasized why it is necessary for PhD students to consider options beyond the traditional career objective of a full-time, tenure-track position. While students across disciplines, and especially in the liberal arts, continue to see TT jobs as the “golden ticket” in terms of employment, the state of the job market shows that such an outcome is no longer a possibility for most PhDs. Overwhelmingly, most teaching positions in universities do not go to full-time, tenure-track employees; rather, 76% of jobs go to part-time, contingent labor known as adjuncts. A 2012 survey released by the Coalition on the Academic Workforce found that, out of 20,000 adjunct respondents, 54% were under the age of 35, and 52% reported earning less than $35,000 per year. You can read the full report HERE.

This has made an already competitive academic job market even more daunting for new PhDs. Still, most who enter the job market have one goal in mind: secure a tenure-track position. This is what PhD students are trained to prepare for, because it is the career academic mentors know. This has made TT jobs the marker of success after graduation, and alternative career options appear, instead, as a form of failure.

This should not be the case!

It is important for PhD students to be aware of their options; the post-PhD road does not exclusively run toward a tenure-track position. A multitude of career options exist both within and without academia. While many PhD students pursue a higher-level degree because they love what they do, it is still possible to put that passion and inspiration toward other careers. Tenure-track jobs are not the be all and end all in academia.

I encouraged those attending to do research on what jobs exist within the university system that may appear to be a good fit. Once they find alt-ac positions that seem interesting, PhD students should talk to the people in those positions to see what the job requires. Ultimately, it is crucial for PhDs and PhD students to recognize they have transferable skills that they can use to secure a career that is feasible and sustainable.

Following my presentation, Dr. Eric Bolsterli gave an account of his experience after grad school and how he ended up in his current position in the university administration. In his presentation, Dr. Bolsterli emphasized a number of points: first, the ability to build a reputation as capable employee is fundamental. For him, this meant construction a reputation as a good teacher. This helped him develop connections among UTA faculty, which led to a job offer to work as an advisor for the History Department. After applying for jobs and receiving no response, Dr. Bolsterli decided to focus instead on work in the administration.

Dr. Bolsterli stressed the importance of networking. He networked across campus; he became involved in orientation and recruiting. Once a position opened in the College of Liberal Arts focused on working with undergraduates in University Affairs, Dr. Bolsterli recognized that, based on his past experience and his reputation, it was not a stretch for him to move into this position.

Key points from Eric Bolsterli’s presentation:
– Networking is incredibly important.
– If you wish to stay in an academic environment, you have to be able to work effectively with students.
– Learn as much as you can about on-campus opportunities, and – again – network as much as you can.
– Don’t pigeon-hole yourself as “just” a PhD student.
– Communicate with professionals and students of all ages.

The final presentation came from Dr. Brenda Davis, who stated she followed the alt-ac path “in its totality.” After she obtained her PhD from TCU, she found that so few jobs were available, she had no choice but to explore other options. She worked with local museums and the administration office at TCU, in addition to teaching. She kept her eye out for jobs, but she acknowledged that she did not know at the time how to market herself or sell her skills. Eventually, she saw the job opening at UTA’s Office of Graduate Studies, and she described landing on her feet out of “dumb luck.”

Based on her experience after graduation, she now seeks to help PhD students pursue alt-ac, not just fall into it. She stressed the skills PhD students acquire and hone throughout grad school. She said PhD students develop skills that are much more advanced than the undergrads who are applying for the same non-academic jobs. Job candidates with undergraduate degrees simply have an upper hand in knowing how to market themselves. Dr. Davis stated that, as grad students, we too easily dissect what we can and cannot do; yet, that should not interfere with our ability to find steady work.

Even though Dr. Davis did not land the supposed “golden ticket” job, she said that she loves her career. She still gets to teach, challenge her skills (which she does through web development), and work with people.

Key points from Brenda Davis’s presentation:
– Figure out what you want to do, and find the corresponding skills.
– You should do something you love, just keep in mind that it may be in a different career.
– Think about why you love academia.
– Determine what skills you have and focus on that. If you have a hard time determining what skills you have, talk to someone and see what they notice about your skills and what you are passionate about.
– It is important for PhD students to know that alt-ac careers are becoming the norm.

Dr. Davis concluded by giving a tutorial on using Versatile PhD. This is an incredible resource for those looking to broaden their career options. If you have access to Versatile PhD, do not hesitate to make use of it.

During the Q&A session that followed, in which Dr. Riding-In read the questions written by the attendees, the following points came up:

– Career choices are not limited to choosing between community colleges and tenure track jobs. It is important to keep options open.
– Finishing a project on the magnitude of a dissertation forces the development of very transferable skills. Writing a dissertation requires massive organizational skills, the ability to research, and integrate that research in a cohesive, readable way. Underlining all of these is the fine-tuning of critical thinking skills, as well as the ability to handle criticism. It also forces one to adapt to problems and persevere. These skills are highly desired in positions outside of academia.
– One cannot pursue a doctoral degree because they expect to get a job as a professor. You have to love what you do; you have to want to do it.
– It is possible that a TT job is not the right job for you. Be prepared to shift your path as needed.
– Finally, it is important to take the first step – start thinking about and researching alternative career options now. Recognize that you have skills most people do not have.

Pending student interest, this series will continue with workshops to help students become familiar with the resources available through Versatile PhD, learn how to turn a CV into a resume, in addition to other professional development training for alt-ac and post-ac careers.