On Ambition -or- What's Wrong with American Higher Education

This is something I've been wanting to write for I guess some 15 years now. It started as a rant against all that was wrong with American Higher Education--and there is a lot that is wrong with it--but over the years one element of that rant came more and more to the fore, and that turned out to be probably the most important step in self-knowledge of my entire life.

Academic life is very weird. In the "real" world--or what passes for it these days--people will go "Oooo, you have a PhD!" and "Wow, you published a book!" whereas you work in an environment in which everybody has a doctorate and everybody has published at least one book. That's just the bare minimum for keeping your job (i.e., getting tenure). The accomplishment is largely meaningless. For those outside, it looks  like the world of the ultra-rich looking down on mere multimillionaires because they haven't yet become billionaires. How many articles have you published in the last 2 years? How far along are you in the next book? What grants and fellowships have you applied for... and will they bring us any money in indirects? Note that I've made no mention of teaching--likely another surprise for those outside the profession. Much lip service is paid to teaching: student evaluations, teaching awards, teaching workshops, etc., etc, all largely meaningless in the grand scheme of things. I know of no one who had an exceptional research profile ever being denied tenure or promotion because they stunk in the classroom (and several have).

I followed the expected path. My dissertation was turned into a book published by a major university press, I published articles in leading journals in the field, I got a prestigious national fellowship the first time I applied (when I notified the dean he replied with the bureaucratic procedures for dealing with the financials; he later sent a second message which read "Oh, and congratulations"--an extreme case of so what have you done for me lately. I started working on my second book. As all this moved along, I became less and less happy with what I was doing. One thing no one tells you is how much the leadership and culture of the university and the nature of the colleagues you work with in your department affects your productivity. My college and university mostly had miserable leadership (yes, I specifically mean you, you clueless and evil-minded associate deans of this that and the other thing). I had a small group of colleagues who were so intent on their agenda, they thought nothing of lying, cheating, and duplicity if it involved getting their way.  There are some who remain highly productive in these circumstances, mostly by ignoring the immediate environment and being adequate enough in their teaching to avoid getting a bad rep.

I couldn't be that way. The editors, reviewers, and professional conferences were remote; "God is in heaven and the Tsar is far away" as the Russians used to say. My department and especially my students were always right there; I was not capable of just shutting them off.

So I was not as productive as the system wanted me to be; the people I talked to kept telling me I wasn't quite ready to go up for promotion. The editor of my second book, who was actually the same person who edited my first book, stopped answering my emails, despite his initial enthusiasm and my dutifully complying with his requests for revision. I not only was dissatisfied with my job, I felt as was failing at it.

Then one day it happened. I asked myself why I got into the profession; what did I want to get out of it? The answer threw me for a complete loop. I wanted to prove that I was really good at this stuff, as good as anyone else. Then I realized I'd already accomplished that. Some of the best people in the world admired my work, several were friends of mine. I was published, invited to speak at conferences, asked to contribute to publications. To a certain extent, I was dissatisfied because I had already succeeded; I had achieved what I subconsciously wanted to achieve. I was a great success, but by my own measurements. Who cares what American Higher Ed, or my college and University said I should be doing? Why should I chastise myself for not climbing their silly ladder? Moreover my students really liked me (not that it counted for anything). They said I was a great teacher and, what was really touching and sad at the same time, they said I was one of the few professors that seemed to care whether they learned or not. (BTW, I never got any of the teaching awards.) I'm friends with a number of my former students to this day.

With that, I sat down with my dear and very knowledgeable husband, did some financial calculations, and applied for early retirement as soon as I could. I am the better and happier for it.