A reference to the delightful book by that epitome of the thespian arts, Bruce Campbell, entitled If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B-Movie Actor. Have you guessed that my thinking is largely conditioned by le cinema? (Not that that makes me much different from any other medievalist, or English professors of the current generation in general . . . )

The parallels between teaching and theatrical performance have been noted more than once in recent books and articles. An analogy I have pondered in that vein is between

(a) how graduate-school training is aimed at making each of us into high-octane scholars working in a (preferably) private-university doctorial program--while, in fact, most of us (and nearly all of us from state doctoral programs, at least in English) find employment in smaller, fiscally-challenged 4-year teaching-intensive undergraduate colleges

and

(b) the way that Juillard, etc. trains every violinist to be a first violin--whereas, if one finds full-time employment, it is almost certainly as a second or third violin in an orchestra.

The seeming disconnect in this system is, in fact, no such thing. This kind of training is the best way to produce the best possible candidates to fill those respective jobs. It is true that the practitioner often needs to assess, then re-assess, their view of their own capabilities, competitive standing, and progress or lack thereof--and, the adjustment to the eventual reality is more or less bumpy, depending on the person's emotional capabilities and maturity. Some people move up, some move sideways or down; most of us probably end up at the level that an educated prediction might have foretold in the first place.

While it would perhaps be helpful for doctoral programs in English to teach just a little bit more about what the typical graduate will, in fact, end up doing all day for a living (although this would necessitate the presence, either permanently or visiting, of faculty who had solid and recent knowledge of that world), it's a slippery slope that could lead to neglect of scholarship, and eventually of maintenance of current competence in one's field. It is for this kind of reason (I surmise) that the 1960's US "Doctor of Arts" degree failed to catch on: the notion was inherently flawed that all a career teacher needs to do as preparation is to take courses on a subject from the best and brightest, with no need to do original research and make a tangible contribution of one's own.  It is true, admittedly, that in this way, professional preparation for academics asks more than that of lawyers or medical doctors--but there it is (it does no harm for us to have some distinction to take satisfaction in, since those professionals' pay continues to outstrip ours farther and farther with each passing decade--the average US college professor's pay has risen only 1/4 of 1% after inflation in the last 20 years, compared to 18% for lawyers and 34% for physicians. Of course, unlike them, our profession is actually disappearing in the US: see the graph on page 1 of this issue of the AAUP Footnotes).

The point of this lengthy disquisition circles back to the title. Bruce's book is an indispensable meditation on what it takes to succeed and prosper as a resident of the second (or third) tier in those fields where very few make it to the top; it has many lessons that can profitably be applied to academic life for the rest of us, as well.

The reason for that point, in turn, is to forestall any gripes about the currently low-tech and ad-ridden form that this blog takes. As a faculty member at a church-related undergraduate college, my pay is and will remain in the basement of US faculty comparisons--something also true of home-institution support for one's projects (though not, for some reason or other, of administrative pay raises). That is: the only reason I have this page is because I was already paying for the Bravenet hosting of my Tolkien pedagogy page, and the other pages I will post there--so, in its current form, it is free. That price is right.

A very sensible grad-student acquaintance said the other day that most desirable careers can offer the inducements of free time or of money, but not both (thanks for the quote, Angela!). Since I am currently on a year's sabbatical at half-pay from my already-church-mousey employment, I have time for some blogging. But I will be doing it on the cheap as long as possible--which is how faculty in my position tend to do most things.

Come on in; the water's fine. (But bring your own air mattress, sunscreen, beer, sunglasses, etc. etc.) It's almost as if grad school never ends . . . if you can see the good side of that.

There are no comments to this entry.