The Philosophers' Cocoon

Notes from both sides of the market (quick links)

This is a list of quick-links to our Notes From Both Sides of the Market series:

1. Building a strong CV

2. Organizing one's CV

3. Teaching portfolio dilemmas

4. Making the teaching statement precise

5. Standing out in a crowded field

6. Interpreting interview results

7. Standing out for teaching jobs

8. More on standing out for teaching jobs

9. The elusiveness of "fit"

10. Tenure requirements

11. Tenure requirements & decisionmaking

Tenure requirements & decisionmaking

Many of our readers are presumably on the job-market right now, hoping get a tenure-track job. My experience on both sides of the market--both as a job-candidate and search-committee member--is that a fair number of job-candidates do not actually know that much about tenure requirements or what can affect tenure decisions. Indeed, I didn't know very much about these things when I was out on the market...and I've recently met candidates in a similar position. Because most candidates are presumably not merely looking for a tenure-track job, but ultimately want to get tenure, I thought it might be good to have a thread on theses issues.

Allow me to share some of the things I think I've learned about these matters in my time in the profession, and then open up things to you all--to add your own impressions and experiences, correct things you think I've gotten wrong, and so on.

Notes from both sides of the market, part 10: more on standing out for teaching jobs

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post in this series on how to stand out as a candidate for teaching jobs. Because I think this is an under-discussed issue, and because there was a good comment I neglected to respond to, I'd like to revisit the topic again.

In the comments section of my previous post, a reader ('Recent hire') wrote:

I think you're basically right, but the question is *how* precisely people can stand out in the ways you mentioned, especially people just finishing grad school.

At least among my friends on the market this year, *everyone* had excellent teaching statements, excellent student evals (at least since it's mostly up to you how you present it), and excellent letters. *Everyone* has had at least some publications, and mostly everyone had been on some committee / done some service at the department. Since at least in my grad school we weren't given the option to teach whatever we wanted, we had very similar teaching experiences, over which we had little control. (Yes, you could maybe adjunct in the summer -- I couldn't, because of visa status...)

I assume that a *lot of* finishing grad students have these very similar characteristics. I do think fit is a big factor especially for smaller schools where you'll hang out with the other few faculty a lot. And yes, probably the teaching demo gives some sort of estimate of how you would approach students. But how do you really distinguish *excellent* from *competent* teachers? As most people agree, student evals don't do it. I'd say teaching statements don't do it either. But then what?

As I will explain shortly, this comment raises a lot of really important issues in my eyes. But, before I get to that, I want to quote a second comment in the thread, this one by Stephen Bloch-Schulman: 

Now that I reflect on it, I ask because of my experience on search committees at teaching schools... particularly, I see very few applicants that, to my mind, have spent sufficient time and energy on their teaching. I understand the context in which graduate students work (around research-oriented faculty) and the need for graduate students to focus on their own research (dissertation and publications to graduate and be market-ready). In the end, I fear that many don't see that a teaching job is, at most schools, a very different type of job in which time and work would look quite different than at research schools. Many of my colleagues, and even many of the most research-productive of my colleagues, do not do any research during teaching semesters because of the amount of time and effort they put towards teaching, mentoring, and service. And that, it seems to me, would be a life that many would love, and others would never choose for themselves.

Notes from both sides of the market, part 9: The elusiveness of "fit"

One of the most common things one hears about the academic job market is that it is a "crapshoot." It can often be very puzzling which jobs one gets interviewed for, and which jobs one doesn't--and of course, it can be frustrating to see people get hired who seem to be a "worse fit" for a job (viz. fewer publications, less teaching experience, etc.) that you do. What gives? Well, one of the other most common things one hears about the job-market is just how important "fit" is--but how very difficult it is to quantify or predict. What is "fit" exactly, and how do search committees go about determining whether a candidate is a "good fit" for a job?

Here, I think, is the basic problem with the issue of fit: there is no good way to adequately define, enumerate, or predict its various forms. "Fit", quite frankly, is whatever search committee members treat it as. Whether you "fit" a position, in a given search committee member's mind, can involve everything ranging from whether they like your personality, to whether they like the brand of philosophy you do, to whether you have experience teaching some random course the department could really use a teacher in, to whether they think you'll stay (rather than jump ship for another school) if they hire you. This is, in essence--in my experience on both sides of the market--one of the biggest reasons the market is such a "crapshoot." You never really know what a given search committee member's picadillos might be. Maybe they had a bad experience with Continental philosophy in their past--so they don't want to hire anyone who even so much as dabbles in Contintental. Maybe they had a bad experience with a difficult colleague in the past--so they want to hire someone who is friendly and cooperative. Or maybe they have strong political views and want to hire a potential "ally." You never know how you may or may not "fit" a given search-committee member's hiring preferences.

Notes from both sides of the market, part 8: tenure requirements

This post on tenure requirements at liberal arts colleges at Daily Nous reminded me of several important issues that we didn't touch on in our Job-Market Boot Camp: the importance of knowing a university's tenure requirements before accepting a job, and the importance of getting such terms in writing. Allow me to say a few things about both before opening things up for discussion.

One thing that the Daily Nous post drew attention to is just how different tenure requirements can be at otherwise "similar" universities. From what some of the commenters on that thread say, some liberal arts colleges expect about one peer-reviewed publication per year post-hire (more on this below). Some of these same colleges apparently also expect at least some articles to be in highly ranked journals. I saw more than a few people remark on social media that these requirements seem onerous, especially given how important teaching and service are at liberal colleges. I agree. My experience is that, depending on how high tenure requirements are, liberal arts colleges may be some of the most desirable but alternatively some of the most stressful jobs there are. Yes, of course, jobs at research institutions can presumably be stressful as heck too, given their high research tenure bar (more on this below as well). But at least at research institutions the focus is on one thing: research. At liberal arts colleges--at least those that require ample research for tenure--you really do have to "do it all": publish lots of articles, teach tons of classes, serve on lots of committees, do other service work, etc. It can be a real high order!

But these are only some schools. At Daily Nous, a few other commenters noted that their liberal arts schools have much lower research requirements for tenure--in some cases, expecting perhaps only a single peer-reviewed article post-hire. Indeed, on that note, like one of the commenters over there, I've personally known some people who have gotten tenure with only a publication or two post-hire. Long story short: tenure-standards can differ dramatically between otherwise "similar" schools--in ways that can very much affect not only one's likelihood of getting tenure, but also one's daily stress levels once in the job (something not to be underestimated, let me tell you!). This isn't just true of liberal arts colleges. It's true of research schools as well. Indeed, I've even heard through the grapevine that there are some R1 schools where people notoriously almost never get tenure, regardless of how good their research record seems. And, on that note, I've personally known a person who failed to get tenure at a school like that--someone who, from my perspective, has an exemplary research record (not mention other desirable qualities) but miraculously failed to get tenure.

Because not getting tenure is a very big deal (it is always possible to get another academic job, but by no means assured), these things should matter a great deal to job-candidates--and there are precautions job-candidates can take.

The first thing job-candidates can do is get very clear, both at the on-campus interview stage as well as in negotiations: get clear on precisely what the school's tenure requirements are. As some Daily Nous commenters wrote, at some institutions official tenure requirements are very vague--which can be dangerous, as at those institutions tenure requirements may unexpectedly shift higher (due to trends in faculty publishing, etc.).

A second, related thing candidates might do (though I am less sure about this one) is ask how often people have been denied tenure, and on what grounds. It is one thing for a department or institution to have tenure policies, for instance--and quite another to see how they shake out in practice.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly of all, get everything in writing. In most cases, anything you do or publish prior to getting hired will not count towards tenure (only things after you are hired do). In some cases, however, you can negotiate counting some of your previous work towards tenure. If you do, however, you must get it in writing--as I have heard of horror stories (including one in the Daily Nous thread) where verbal agreements were not respected.

Anyway, these are just a few of my thoughts. As these are important issues, it might be helpful to hear from readers with experience in these areas as well!

Notes from both sides of the market, part 7: standing out for teaching jobs

In my fifth post in this series, I wrote about how to stand out as a researcher in a crowded field of applicants. Generally speaking, when it comes to research jobs and elite liberal-arts colleges, we all know what this involves: coming from a top-ranked program and publishing in top-ranked journals. However, as I explained, my experience on both sides of the market is that originality can matter too. Because a lot of candidates may work on slight variations of the same "hot topic", working on something totally different can potentially set a particular candidate apart from the field.

One thing we have not explored, however--either in this series or in our earlier Job-Market Boot Camp--is specifically how to stand out as a candidate for jobs at teaching schools (i.e. non-elite liberal arts colleges, community colleges, etc.). My own admittedly anecdotal experience is that many candidates--and unfortunately, the graduate programs, advisors, and placement officers that prepare candidates for the job-market--appear to be fairly unaware of just how different teaching institutions are than research institutions. This is not a put-down, and indeed, in some ways it is probably unavoidable. For better or worse, the faculty who work at PhD granting graduate programs have likely spent their entire careers in research-focused institutions. Given their experience, how could they be well aware of what life and institutional priorities are like at teaching institutions? For my part, it took several years of actually working at such an institution to learn these things!

Consequently, I thought it might be helpful to outline some of the things that I think--as someone who has worked at a teaching institution for a number of years now--may serve to set job-candidates apart when applying for jobs at institutions like mine. Please bear in mind that these are only my own impressions. As someone who has only worked at one teaching institution (but who also knows people well who work at others!), my impressions should be taken with a grain of salt. Not all teaching institutions may be similar--and for that reason I would like to invite readers who work at such institutions to share their impressions in the comments section as well. With these caveats in mind, here goes!

Notes from both sides of the market - part 6: interpreting interview results

As someone who was on the job-market for a number of years and who now mentors job-candidates, I know how tempting it can be to want to interpret interview results. You thought you had a good Skype interview...but you didn't get invited for a fly-out. Then, for another school, you thought you had a bad interview...but did get a fly-out. What gives? Given that I've now been on both sides of the job-market--as both a candidate and two-time search committee member--allow me to try to provide a bit more insight.

One of the things I really didn't know about the hiring side of the process as a job-candidate is how committees rank candidates prior to initial interviews. Sometimes, members of a search committee can all be on the same page, ranking candidates similarly, in some cases even agreeing that two or three candidates in particular are at the very top of their list by far. Other times, committees can be much more split. In some cases, one or more committee members may have candidates at the top of their list that other committee members don't have anywhere near the top of their list--leading to substantial disagreements in the committee about who to interview. Indeed, committee members may even be so divided on candidates that they might strike deals with each other (viz. "I'm fine with interviewing your favored candidate X if we also interview my favored candidate Y").

These different types of situations can plausibly have effects on deliberations before and after first-round interviews. From what I have heard, search committees typically extend first-round interviews to anywhere between 6-12 candidates. So now consider the two different types of cases I mentioned above:

• Case 1 (agreement): the committee largely agrees that two or three candidates are at the very top of their list.
• Case 2 (disagreement): the committee is pretty split between their candidate rankings prior to interviews.

In Case 1, it may be difficult for candidates lower down on the committee's list to help themselves much in the first-round interview. Let's say a given candidate is toward the bottom of the committees list of 6-12 interviewees. Then suppose that candidate has a very good interview, but other candidates higher on the list have good interviews too. In that case, even though they interviewed well, they might not get invited for a fly-out--largely because the committee was already pretty sure who their highest-ranked candidates were. Case 2, however, is very different. In a case like this, where a committee is split on candidates heading into first-round interviews, a good or bad interview can plausibly make a much larger difference in terms of who gets invited to campus.

For these reasons--and others to be mentioned momentarily--it can be very difficult to read into "interview results." You may interview well but not get invited for a campus visit because you weren't the highest on the committee's list. Conversely, your interview might not go so well but you still might get invited to campus because you were so high on the committee's list to begin with (and they might figure you just don't interview well). Finally, it can be hard to read into interview results because you don't know how well other candidates interviewed. Because you are competing against many other very accomplished candidates, there's a pretty decent chance that if you interviewed well many of them did too! Although these remarks may be a bit discouraging, I think they explain in part the oft-made claim that the job-market is a "crapshoot." There are just so many moving parts--including search committee members with different priorities--that it is hard to read too much into anything. Still, allow me to end this most with a more encouraging set of thoughts.

In my seven years on the market, I did notice a few clear trends. From my vantage-point, I thought I nailed about 10-15% of my interviews, did fairly well in about 70-80% of them, and then totally bombed about another 10-15% of them. As they say, we all have good days and bad days. Still, my experience was this: although my interview results were a "crapshoot" in the 70-80% of cases where I thought I interviewed "pretty well" (in some cases I got fly-outs, in other cases not), the other two categories were much more clear-cut. If I thought I totally aced an interview, I almost always got a fly-out; and conversely, I never got a single fly-out for any of the interviews I bombed. These trends cohere with my experience on the other side of things (the hiring side). Many candidates interview well--and it can be difficult to choose between them when they do. But when someone has a spectacular interview? Then they may be hard to pass up. I still don't think we should be doing first-round interviews at all--but, be that as it may, these have been my experiences on both sides of the market.

Notes from both sides of the market - part 5: standing out in a crowded field

I began a series last year, "Notes from both sides of the market", as a kind of follow-up to our Job-Market Boot Camp, but this time discussing job-market issues from the perspective of someone who has now been on both sides of the process (I was on the market as a candidate for seven years, and have now served on two search committees). Given that the fall job-market is just a few months away now, I thought it might be helpful to resurrect series, discussing issues that may be relevant to current and future job-candidates. As I mentioned in the first post in this series, I don't think it's appropriate for me to share or comment on any specific aspects of searches I've been a part of--so I won't do that. Instead, I am simply going to discuss some very general things that I've noted on both sides of market. Anyway, here goes!

Notes from Both Sides of the Market, part 4: Making the Teaching Statement Precise

In my post on teaching statements in last year's Job-Market Boot Camp, I shared some advice I learned from the job-market consultant I hired during my final year on the market. To briefly summarize, my consultant maintained that many teaching statements make several common mistakes--among them, broad generalizations about one's teaching philosophy and soaring rhetoric intended to convey one's enthusiasm as a teacher and commitment to students. I then suggested two rules I learned for avoiding these mistakes and writing a more effective statement:

1. Cut out all emotionalizing/emphasizing.
2. Simply describe, in as precise detail as possible, exactly what you do as a teacher.

Since writing last year's post, I have had the opportunity to read a large number of teaching statements. I not only served on a search committee, but have also mentored several people on the job-market. Although I do not think it is appropriate or helpful for me to talk about what "I look for" in a teaching statement (as I am but one person, and do not want to give any future job-applicants at my institution an unfair advantage), I want to say a bit more about why I think the above rules are probably advantageous, and how to best ensure that one's statement conforms to them.

Like many teaching statements, my old teaching statement contained broad generalizations emphasizing my enthusiasm, commitment, teaching philosophy, and practices, including how much I enjoy teaching, how committed I am, how I engage with students, get them to do group work in the classroom, encourage original thinking, include diverse perspectives, etc. On the surface, this might seem like exactly the things a teaching statement should do. It might seem to its author to accurately convey their teaching philosophy (e.g. getting students involved, developing students' abilities to think clearly, rigorously, creatively, etc.), as well as their personal qualities as a teacher (e.g. enthusiasm, hard-work, etc.). Indeed, this is presumably why so many teaching statements appear to be just like this. Alas, as I explained last year, therein lies the problem. 

Imagine yourself in the shoes a search committee member, reading hundreds of teaching statements that all say basically the same thing: just about every candidate, one after another, writing about how they they are passionate about teaching, get students to think clearly, creatively, and rigorously about philosophical arguments, etc. The problem with writing a teaching statement like this is that there is little, if anything, that actually distinguishes you as a teacher from anyone else! But, if anything is the proverbial "kiss of death" in applying for a job, surely that is. In order to get a job, one must stand out as a candidate. So, then, what does that take?

There is a famous dictum in film, literature, and art more generally: "Show, don't tell." Good films don't have their characters standing around giving plot exposition. They have the characters' actions on screen move the plot forward. Contrast, for instance, the much-beloved first Star Wars trilogy (from the 1970s and 80s) to the much-maligned 'prequel' trilogy of the 90s and 2000's, or the much beloved first Matrix film to the much-maligned later films in that trilogy. The original Star Wars films and first Matrix film invested audiences in the films' characters and plots by showing their struggles--following around the hero and small band of rebels (in both cases) in their fight against evil-doers. In contrast, the less-successful films in both series contained large stretches of characters standing around giving plot exposition, explaining in broad terms things happening off-screen. The main reason why it is important to "show, don't tell", is that it is precisely the details that matter. A viewer is only invested in character or plot if they can see the plot and character-development themselves.

With this in mind, let us return to teaching statements. How can one provide the reader with details that both (A) distinguish oneself from hundreds of other applicants, while (B) investing the reader in your teaching philosophy and practices? The answer, I believe, is that one has to show the reader exactly what one does as a teacher, giving precise, concrete examples (rather than generalizations) of things one does in the classroom, explaining precisely how the things one does engage students and improve student learning. And, how does one do that? My job-consultant helped me see the difference between three different levels of abstraction/generality:

• Broad generalizations (which give no real details): as in, "I am a passionate teacher who engages all students in the classroom in an inclusive manner." (To which the reader is apt to think, "Really? Then show me how you do those things!)
• Mid-level generalizations (which give some vague details): as in, "I engage students in the classroom by getting them to formulate arguments from their daily readings, and then debating as a class whether they formulated the arguments correctly and whether the arguments are sound", or, "I engage all students in an inclusive manner by assigning texts by philosophers from many different backgrounds" (to which the reader of the statement is apt to think, "Really? That's what everyone says! Can you show me how you actually do those things effectively?")
• Precision/concreteness: giving readers concrete examples of actual assignments, illustrating precisely how they plausibly improve student engagement, student learning, etc.: as in, "I require my students to bring to class daily 1/2 page reading responses in which the student must (1) briefly summarize a philosophical claim from the daily reading, (2) explain in a sentence or two the claim's relevance within the reading, and (3) briefly motivate a question or concern about it. This assignment requires students to practice several important philosophical skills daily: the ability to correctly summarize difficult philosophical ideas, explain their philosophical importance, and think critically, developing well-justified philosophical questions or concerns."

Whatever you might think of the actual example I just gave (e.g. the 1/2 daily paper example), I think the importance of precision/concreteness should be plain. Instead of providing the reader with vague descriptions of one's "teaching philosophy", precise/concrete examples show the reader what you actually do as a teacher, illustrate practices that may be relatively unique to you as a teacher, explain the pedagogical aims of those specific practices, and describing briefly but clearly how the practice actually advances those aims (viz. daily practice of three important skills).

If were looking to hire an effective teacher, aren't those all of the things you would most want to know? Wouldn't you want to see precisely what the person does, how their specific practices/assignments actually engage and develop students' abilities, how specific practices are pedagogically justified, and how the practices actually achieve those pedagogical aims?

Notes from both sides of the market, part 3: teaching portfolio dilemmas

As I mentioned in my post on teaching portfolios in last year's Job Market Boot Camp, I tend to think it is a good idea to include:

1. An extended summary of raw quantitative student evaluation data spanning several semesters.
2. Complete and unedited student comments from several courses and/or semesters.

The general rationale for both of these suggestions was that, especially at teaching schools, search committee members may be interested in a complete picture of a candidate's teaching experience, including whether the candidate has a consistent or spotty record of "student satisfaction." Now, of course, I realize that student evaluations themselves appear to have a spotty track-record. Still, for all that, for better or worse, student evaluations appear to matter in today's higher-education environment. First, at least in part because of recent financial struggles in public higher education and smaller private schools [some of which have closed down or closed "underperforming" departments], departmental funding--and indeed, departmental viability--can depend on student enrollment and majors of numbers, both of which are probably related to "student satisfaction." Second, again for better or worse, student satisfaction plausibly plays a role in tenure decisions at teaching schools. Consequently, or so I'm inclined to think, there are reasons to think it is important to provide search committees with a clear and complete picture of one's student evaluation history: not only one's good evaluations, but also one's bad ones.

Notes from both sides of the market, part 2: organizing one's CV

In my post on putting together one's actual CV in last year's Job-Market Boot Camp series, I discussed the overall organization and content of a well-designed CV. One thing that I did not say very much about, however--and which I have heard many people raise questions about--is whether it is a good idea to have different versions of one's CV for different types of institutions. For instance, as 'Tom' asks in the comments section of my first post in the present series:

Here's a question I (and probably many others) have had about Ye olde cv: people sometimes talk about *presenting themselves as* a researcher or as a teacher, and talk about it as if it's something one does starting with one's cv. This confuses me. My cv lists all my teaching experience and all my research experience. Is presenting myself as a researcher a matter of the order teaching/research occur on the cv? Is there something else I do on my cv that committee members read as me presenting myself this way or that way?

In last year's post, I wrote very briefly about this:

General organization of the CV: I've heard from some people that after listing your AOS/AOC, education, you may want to organize your CV according to the job-type you're applying for--for instance, research first then teaching for research jobs, but the other way around for teaching jobs. I don't know anyone who has tried this, but I will say this: I always put my research first, have been a productive researcher, and it did not seem to harm my chances at all with teaching schools (the vast majority of my interviews over the past few years were at teaching schools, including a few community colleges). 

Interestingly, no one commented on or raised questions about these remarks--which leaves the question relatively open: is it a good idea to "frame" one's CV differently for different jobs? I'm really curious to hear readers' experiences here.

Notes from both sides of the market, part 1: building a strong CV

Last year, Helen and I ran a "Job Market Boot Camp" series offering current and future job candidates in academic philosophy advice on a variety of issues. Reading through the series again this morning, I still stand by the advice we offered. However, it also occurred to me that since running the series, I have had some career experiences that might warrant revisiting some of the topics in the series to potentially add some relevant information to advice previously given. In particular, I have worked at a mid-sized liberal arts [MLAC] university for about seven years now, and served on my first search committee last year. Although I do not think it is appropriate to share anything about how I or my committee deliberated [or what "I look for" in a job-candidate], I think my overall career experience may have provided me with some additional general information that job-candidates may find helpful.

So, what I hope to do in this new series is to simply revisit the topics Helen and I covered in the boot camp, adding information and suggestions that I believe candidates may find potentially relevant/helpful. As always, I want to emphasize that the suggestions I give in the series is just that: my suggestions, not necessarily the best or "correct" suggestions. As with most things, people will presumably disagree on what job-market advice is good. All I can promise to do--and, I think, all anyone can really do, given that there are few clear facts [viz. scientific study] regarding what makes candidates competitive/successful on the philosophy job market--is provide concrete evidence for the suggestions I provide.

As in the Boot Camp, I will begin today by discussing the issue of building a competitive CV. In last year's post, I focused primarily (though not exclusively) on publications, arguing that my evidence suggests that all legitimately peer-reviewed publications--not just publications in highly-ranked journals, but lower-ranked journals as well [though not "vanity" journals]--can improve one's competitiveness on the market. I will return to and add to some of the evidence for this conclusion below. However, my post last year focused only a little bit on other aspects of the CV, such as teaching experience, university service, and letters of recommendation. In today's post, I will spend most of my time adding to the previous suggestions I made on those issues.