Those who work as adjuncts or part-timers give varying accounts of their situation. For some, it works; for others it doesn’t. But the basic facts remain pretty consistent: low pay, no job security, no benefits, and the lowest status in the profession. How can you make such conditions work for you? It depends on who you are and what you want out of life.
Until recently, most adjunct faculty were experts employed elsewhere, who were brought in for special knowledge and skills that the regular faculty lacked. They were recruited for particular programs on an as-needed basis. Because they were employed elsewhere, their pay was in the nature of an honorarium, and their work was considered largely pro bono. People took adjunct gigs out of a sense of social or professional responsibility, for the opportunity to teach and in that way to give back some of what they had gained. Teaching was a refreshing change from their normal work life. They did not think of themselves as professional educators.
Part-time faculty also realized some benefits. Frequently, they were people who had left the work force to raise children or take care of aging parents, or, as faculty spouses, found themselves stuck in place and had to take the best option available for maintaining some sort of professional life. Some part-timers were eventually able to work their way into full-time positions; others found the freedom and flexibility preferable to the up-or-out demands and legendary stress of the tenure track.
With the erosion of regular faculty positions and the abundance of available Ph.D.’s, adjunct and part-time work has now become the norm. We now have thousands of adjuncts and part-timers making a career out of it. These include many with terminal degrees and extensive publications. But it is difficult to see how one can live on $21,000 a year, which is the average going rate for teaching ten courses. And that emolument does not include the “psychic dollars” one gains from a regular position, with its sense of institutional citizenship and all the supports that go with it.
On September 5 of this year, Marc Bousquet posted a blog in the Chronicle’s “Brainstorm” section called “Meet Maria.” Maria holds a Ph.D. in anthropology and suffers from mental illness. She held and lost several tenure-track jobs before being reduced to adjuncting, which left her destitute and on the brink of homelessness. She is now training to be nursing assistant, which is a dirty and dangerous job that pays around $12 an hour, but at least, she says, you can find a position.
Maria’s testimony is heartbreaking, lucid and full of self-awareness. She accepts responsibility for her situation, and she’s trying to make lemonade out of lemons by organizing a research project on health care workers. Her goal, she says, is to keep from becoming homeless, and she has plenty to say about the trials of adjunct life.
As I read this story, it occurred to me that adjuncting and part-timing can feel like a kind of professional homelessness. You lack a “home institution”, an “institutional home,” a place where you belong. This is a pregnant metaphor – and we’ll examine more in the weeks ahead – that tells us about the values and beliefs that underlie behavior. We all want a home; we all want to feel at home; we all want and need to belong. But we also judge people by where they belong – by their houses, their neighborhoods, their institutions. Poverty and homelessness make us uncomfortable – they might be contagious! In the eyes of regular faculty, adjuncts are tainted by failure, which is assumed to be their own fault. As Maria observes, “Who wants to spend time with a loser?”
The issue, for those who adjunct or part-time, is how to turn the situation to advantage. How can you thrive in a state of professional homelessness? Thoreau, who advocated not owning a farm, liked the freedom to wander throughout the town and enjoy the best part of the landscape, which always yielded an “instant and immeasurable” crop without any labor on his part. He also conducted an active literary and intellectual life without any connection to a university. “Let not to get a living be thy trade, but thy sport,” he declared. Nevertheless, we have to remember that he did frequently avail himself of Mrs. Emerson’s apple pies.
The good people of Concord thought of Thoreau as a loser, but he didn’t think of himself that way. Nor did Maria. That is at least half the battle. If you have no home, you can be at home everywhere. Perhaps it is time to rethink the uses of failure.