12.20.2004
Of Fakelorists and Post-Dissertation Malaise
Is there a worse time of life than the year following the completion of your dissertation? Some maladjusted adolescent years might compete: in my case, stockings, eyeliner, "I wear black on the outside because I feel black on the inside," an addiction to Pepto-Bismal, Dragonlance books, Jim Morrison poetry, chronic masturbation. But that is nowhere near as crummy as trying to find your first meaningful post-graduate school job.
I have been rejected so many times it seems like old hat. It usually goes something like this: "You have submitted an impressive resume, with some very laudatory accomplishments. However, we are looking to fill a specific need at [fill in company/school's name here], blah blah blah." I have even tried to get back in to restaurant management, but have been told to apply for a job as a bartender or a server. Whoopee.
My latest setback has me all in a funk for the past week. I had proposed a class for the Experimental College at Tufts University. Every semester they sponsor about twenty classes to be taught by outsiders on a variety of subjects. Cool, I thunk. My class proposal was for a class on contemporary American folklore, called "Folklore 2000." It was basically an introduction to Folklore studies and a seminar on the future of folkloristics. I thought I did a decent job in the interview, and they even said that an anthro professor had always wanted to host a folklore class.
However, It looks like my proposal was rejected. (It would be nice to get a letter or an email or something from them. It's been a week since the date they scheduled for notification.) That's fine. I figured I had as good a shot as any. Competition was kinda tight, as it always is in academia.
So, when trying to figure out if I had a shot at teaching this class I looked on their website, and, lo-and-behold, they had published next semester's tentative schedule. They listed a class called "The Art of Storytelling." Oh, okay, they did decide to teach a folklore class. Let me look up the teacher. Turns out she is one of those people who go to elementary schools and tell stories and reenact historical figures ("Mill Girl of Lowell"). I hate that crap. It's touchy-feely fakelore that has no academic merit. She will probably have the students read "Iron John" and "Women Who Run With Wolves." I'm sure she knows a lot about that hack Joseph Campbell as well. Do I sound bitter. Well, I am.
Is there a worse time of life than the year following the completion of your dissertation? Some maladjusted adolescent years might compete: in my case, stockings, eyeliner, "I wear black on the outside because I feel black on the inside," an addiction to Pepto-Bismal, Dragonlance books, Jim Morrison poetry, chronic masturbation. But that is nowhere near as crummy as trying to find your first meaningful post-graduate school job.
I have been rejected so many times it seems like old hat. It usually goes something like this: "You have submitted an impressive resume, with some very laudatory accomplishments. However, we are looking to fill a specific need at [fill in company/school's name here], blah blah blah." I have even tried to get back in to restaurant management, but have been told to apply for a job as a bartender or a server. Whoopee.
My latest setback has me all in a funk for the past week. I had proposed a class for the Experimental College at Tufts University. Every semester they sponsor about twenty classes to be taught by outsiders on a variety of subjects. Cool, I thunk. My class proposal was for a class on contemporary American folklore, called "Folklore 2000." It was basically an introduction to Folklore studies and a seminar on the future of folkloristics. I thought I did a decent job in the interview, and they even said that an anthro professor had always wanted to host a folklore class.
However, It looks like my proposal was rejected. (It would be nice to get a letter or an email or something from them. It's been a week since the date they scheduled for notification.) That's fine. I figured I had as good a shot as any. Competition was kinda tight, as it always is in academia.
So, when trying to figure out if I had a shot at teaching this class I looked on their website, and, lo-and-behold, they had published next semester's tentative schedule. They listed a class called "The Art of Storytelling." Oh, okay, they did decide to teach a folklore class. Let me look up the teacher. Turns out she is one of those people who go to elementary schools and tell stories and reenact historical figures ("Mill Girl of Lowell"). I hate that crap. It's touchy-feely fakelore that has no academic merit. She will probably have the students read "Iron John" and "Women Who Run With Wolves." I'm sure she knows a lot about that hack Joseph Campbell as well. Do I sound bitter. Well, I am.
Comments:
There's always underpaid, underappreciated adjunct work! Great if you love crying yourself to sleep!
The position I applied for was worse than adjunct. That's the problem of living in a town with countless colleges (some of them of some note). My rinky-dink degree doesn't impress many people when it comes to even adjunct- the applicant pool is overwhelmingly large. (120 people for 20 slots in this case). I'm going to call Perk and ask for my money back.
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