Coffee heat rising

Personal Finance, Academics, and the Perpetual Recession

Yesterday I came across a shiny new blog over at WordPress.com by a young academic working in the South. She calls it Budget Glamorous: Living Well on Less. (hmmm… What is it about academia that leads its denizens to write personal finance blogs?)

BG, it develops, is presently working in exactly the same position at her university where I started at the Great Desert University: as a full-time non-tenure-track lecturer.  Apparently the idea is considered relatively innovative in Appalachia, as it was here (more or less) when I hired on at GDU, said idea being that the school would hire a small cadre of moderately paid Ph.D.’s and M.A.’s to teach four-and-four or five-and-five, with no research & publishing expectation.

These jobs are paid one helluva lot better than ordinary adjunct gigs: you get a full year’s contract at pay that would be laughable in the corporate world but that looks pretty darned good to an unemployed wretch fresh out of six years in graduate school. I started at the same figure as the assistant professors in my cohort. By the time I left to found and direct the editorial office on the main campus, I was earning the median annual salary for Arizonans—not very much, but as a lecturer I was paid for only nine months of work. My pay, however, most certainly did not keep up with my cohort’s, by then at the associate level.

GDU already had a full-time non-tenurable position, which they called “instructor” and for which they paid shamefully. These were held mostly by ABDs and by women hangers-on, academic groupies who were having affairs with faculty members or who simply wanted a career on a university campus but for one reason or another could not get a position elsewhere. Once an incumbent finished the Ph.D., he or she was out of a job. So in effect, accepting such a position brought your academic career to a halt, in real terms.

The lecturership, by contrast, may be held indefinitely—one colleague at the West campus retired after about 20 years on the job. It has no future: you are not going to get a promotion, you are never going to get a shot at a tenurable position, and the only raises you will get will be COLAs, except that when times are tough (which is most of the time) there are no COLA increases. GDU lecturers earn about half of what a community college instructor here earns, with a comparable course load and much larger classes. To frost the cookies, you have no job security whatsoever: annoy a dean, and you’re canned with no appeal. The university can refuse to renew your contract and does not have to give a reason. No joke: this happened to a friend who got crosswise with a dean.

The advantages for the university are obvious: One lecturer can be made to teach two or two-and-a-half times the number of lower-division students that can be foisted on a tenure-track faculty member. Accrediting agencies look askance at large numbers of undergraduate courses taught by part-time adjuncts, and so hiring anyone at “full-time” status helps hugely at accreditation time. This handles the scut-work courses at a little higher cost than hiring adjuncts who will work for sweat-shop wages and no benefits, but the crucial importance of accreditation overrides that added cost. A lecturer in a non-tenure-track position can be canned at will, giving administrators a little more control over department, division, and college budgets…and a convenient political shilelagh. This came in handy at GDU when, as the current economic depression reached its height, some 550 employees were laid off, and as the layoffs continue to this day.

The advantage to the budding academic? A job. Even before higher education was pinched by the fall of the Bush economy, graduate schools were turning out many more Ph.D.’s in the humanities than there were jobs to accommodate them. There simply are not enough jobs to go around. A full-time junior-college opening can attract two or three hundred qualified candidates. So, obviously, unless you enjoy waiting tables or cleaning house, it’s much to your benefit to grab whatever academic job you can get, if it pays anything like a living wage.

Like BG, I enjoyed teaching as a full-time nontenurable lecturer, at first. I like students and in time found ways to mitigate the obscene workload. It was great for the first seven years. After that, political infighting led to the disintegration of our department and morale went south, fast. I started looking for other work, in and out of academe; it was three years before I managed to get myself into an administrative position on the Main campus.

The question is, if you know what you’re getting into, can one of these exploitive jobs be made to work to your advantage?

Possibly so.

If I were starting that position now, knowing what I know today, I would use the job as a springboard to another job, and I would work as hard and as fast as I could to find that other job. I would not delay just because I liked the teaching or felt grateful to have broken into academia.

If I wanted to stay in the university environment, I’d be angling for an administrative position, even it it meant getting another degree. The Ph.D. in an academic subject may or may not help you get into administration, but certain vocational doctorates indeed will.

You can get these degrees online or in low-residency programs. At GDU, I watched people move from underpaid nontenurable jobs to administrative positions after obtaining advanced degrees in educational administration or online course design. Most of the coursework was done online. An Ed.D., it develops, is as good as a Ph.D. in the job market—maybe better, if it has something to do with administration or marketing.

Meanwhile, I would apply for every tenure-track position advertised in the Chronicle, no matter where it is. I also would not be too proud to apply in the community colleges, where the same workload is rewarded with better pay and job security.

If I wanted to work in the real world, I would be looking all the time for any job I could convince an employer I could do. And classroom skills translate magnificently to the real world:

• Communications
• Publications
• Management
• Human resources (here, too, think online courses: get an online degree in human resources or management)
• Personnel training
• Online personnel training course design (where do you think they get people to build those see-Dick-run employee tutorials—and those annoying courses for traffic schools?)
• Translator jobs (if you’re fluent in a second language)
• Executive director of nonprofit
• Development officer for nonprofit

Some industries that seem far afield of academia welcome academics as they welcome any smart, self-starting, ambitious individual. A friend of mine went into real estate as she neared the end of the doctoral program. She had a long and lucrative career selling spectacular high-end houses to the ridiculously rich. Another went to work for Peter Bogdanovich and became an executive vice president of Paramount Pictures. Two others went to law school—today one is a prominent immigration lawyer; the other went to work in the AG’s office. Another left a tenured associate professorship in communication to found a very successful personnel training business, for which she simply transferred what she had been teaching in the classroom into the corporate workplace.

And if getting a real-world job meant I had to walk from a nontenurable academic contract in mid-semester, that’s exactly what I’d do. A university feels no loyalty to its NTTT faculty (it’s an institution: it feels nothing), and so there’s no rational or moral reason not to move on when a less exploitive opportunity comes your way.

w00t! Wednesdays from Hell Are OVER!!!

Gustave Doré. Charon rowing across the River Styx. Plate 9, Dante's Inferno, Canto III

Yay! Today is the last Wednesday from Hell!

The Wednesday afternoon class let out a little early, giving time to race by the Safeway to pick up a celebratory bottle of wine and the pool store to pick up some chemicals. Then raced home to discover M’hijito had not come by over the lunch hour, and that left Charley caged and unfed for five hours. Opened the crate door, released a nuclear explosion. Fed the explosion some dog food. Chased around. Ran a second hose from the westside bibcock to the empty pool, turned it on full-blast to supplement the full-blast flow from the bibcock on the north wall. Chased around some more. Locked Cassie in a bedroom to protect her from pup’s turbocharged maleness. And on it went.

Still have choir tonight, tho’ I don’t consider that the least bit Hellish.

Most of what has sent this semester’s Wednesdays blowing in from the subterranean regions has originated in my own quirks.

The insomnia: Until the nights get cold (as in the house is around 60 degrees), I wake up sometime between 2 and 5 a.m. By mid-autumn it’s dark outside at that hour, and anyway when you get waked up by insomnia you feel terrible and the last thing you want to do is walk the dog (which is what you should do) even if it were safe at that hour. And so invariably I park myself in front of the computer and start working. So my work day normally begins around 5:00 a.m. That’s after a good night’s sleep…

The ad-hoc organization: On Wednesdays from Hell, it’s meant two hours of work before I notice the time and jump up and race around to feed Cassie and myself before M’hijito shows up with the Animated Rocket (i.e., Charlie the Golden Retriever Pup). Bolt breakfast. Receive pup. Go back to work, interrupted repeatedly and frequently. About 10 a.m., race to bathe and get dressed, fly out the door, teach until almost 5:00 p.m., fly back to the house.

The inability to bring a stop to work: Fix dinner. Bolt down dinner. Shovel Charley out of the house. Feed Cassie. Race out the door to choir. Practice till 9:00 p.m. Race home. Finish whatever I was working on in the few minutes of peace between end of choir and start of unconsciousness. Hit the sack about 10 or 11 p.m. Read ARCs until I fall asleep, which is usually pretty quick. Next morning, Thursday, I have to be in Scottsdale by 7:00 a.m.

A workday that runs from 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning to 10:00 or 11:00 at night, all of it filled with one kind of labor or another, is not a day. It’s flickin’ torture.

Today, lhudly sing huzzah, it ends!

A mountain of stoont papers sits on the server, waiting to be read, but we have a week and a half to get through that stuff. Next Wednesday the once-a-week class meets for a Fake Final (extra-credit quiz for those whose grades are on the borderline, by way of getting them to show up for the required finals week meeting, without which I will not get paid). But only the Wednesday afternoon class meets that day; the two earlier classes’ finals happen on Monday. So that exempts next Wednesday from the Hellish category.

Next semester my schedule exceeds ideal. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 12:30–1:45 and 2:00–3:15. Only two days a week. Time enough to get lunch (or at least a snack) before running to campus. Enough class time to get something accomplished. (I just loathe the damnable, useless 50-minute class meetings! Why bother to meet them at all???) Then out of there before the worst of the afternoon rush hour starts to roar. And classes do not fall on a choir day!

And it means I’ll be able to sing at the noon service on Good Friday. Just simply too good to be true.

As soon as the student papers are shoveled off the desk and grades are filed, all I’ll have left is a week of free labor to rewrite next semester’s courses, and then…F.R.E.E.D.O.M!!!

Just two projects are on the table (just two!) for winter break: kick the marketing plan for The Copyeditor’s Desk into gear, and create a test e-book by way of learning how to make and market e-books.

Funny about Money has almost 1700 posts. From what I can see, there’s enough material there for at least three short books of the size that lends itself to the e-book genre. One of them, actually, will be long enough and substantial enough to qualify as a real book—I may offer that to one of my erstwhile publishers. But at least two of them are going online to be marketed through FaM and Amazon.

The first, which I hope to have ready before Christmas, will be a collection of FaM recipes, supplemented by some of the best from lifetime favorite recipes. That is, the FaM recipe book will contain more cookery than appears on the website.

Quite a few of its recipes will lend themselves to holiday meals. That’s why I’d like to get it together in time for Christmas. That may be asking too much, though.

At any rate, it’s an hour and a half until choir. Charley is quiet. Cassie is lobbying to get out of the back bedroom. Maybe I can sneak a bite to eat and a glass of wine before it’s time to get going again.

🙂

End in sight…but apparently not the end of teaching

Only four more sets of papers to grade! Then, thank God, this semester will be over.

I was amazed to see that Mr. Boxankle’s final paper is something of a tour de force. Holy macquerel! He must have gone to the writing center. It’s totally reorganized, plumped up with new cited and documented sources, and decently edited. Whatever his strategy, let’s hope he can transfer it to his other courses. 🙂

The gent who’s already writing at the publishable level was not content to let good enough be. He also has produced a new, edited version, which I haven’t read yet because at two this morning I was busy plodding through his colleagues’ drafts.

Fell asleep around 7:00 or 8:00 p.m. last night and so naturally awoke in the wee hours. Finished the last set of drafts. Fell back in bed around 6:30. Slept until 8:30.

LOL! Maybe that’s the trick to getting a decent night’s sleep: go to bed at dusk!

Today I need to read the 101 students’ papers. Have to get through that by 2:00 p.m. so I can go to La Maya’s art exhibition in Scottsdale along about 3:00 p.m. That will leave only two sets of 2,500-word monstrosities from the 102 students, plus a set of brites from the magazine writers.

The brites should only take an hour or so. A brite by its nature is very short, and the feature-writing students are in that class because they want to be there. Although a few are a bit tone-deaf, by and large they all can write with some competence. And as for the endless 102 papers: final grades aren’t due until the 16th, so we have some time.

Making them turn their final monster papers in a week before the end of the semester, while it leaves me having to occupy them with busywork for three days, was a stroke of genius. It means we don’t have to do the marathon horror show on an impossibly tight deadline.

Well, having heard nothing from the church, I assume the hiring committee figured out that I was not the job candidate of their dreams. No doubt the line formed at the left, with hordes of unemployed accountants muscling each other aside to get in the door. Our pastor remarked that he’d like to get someone in place by the  middle of this month, which would be…yes. A week and a half from today. So, by now if they haven’t made their choice, they must at least have lined up interviews for everyone on their short list.

My application for the f/t job at Paradise Valley is still in the hopper. That closes on January 15, so it will be mid-semester (at best) before they’re interviewing. Realistically, there’s no way they’re going to hire anyone past retirement age into one of their plummiest jobs. But nothing ventured…

And I have one other scheme, besides the effort to hustle $60/hour business for the Copyeditor’s Desk: get a Realtor’s license, which will make it possible to get a scutwork assistant’s job in a real estate agency. Like the church admin job, pay would be poor and the job would be mostly clerical and bookkeeping, but at least it would be year-round.

Well, speaking of bookkeeping, in addition to a raft of papers to read, I have bills to pay and Quicken to update. And so, to work…

The Problem with Working in the Cloud…

…is that you need a functioning Stratoliner.

The plane, not the bike. Though a bike would be fun…

Last night I was determined to get through the most difficult of the magazine-writing students’ papers. By this time in a semester, you know who is going to turn in a tangle that will take you a good hour to crawl through. Two of those were sitting on the server, plus two others that will probably be OK. And yea verily, the first one I downloaded filled a half-hour of some mindless drivel on CBS that I turned on to provide background noise to keep me awake, and then it filled all of History Detectives. At 10:00 p.m. when I went to enter the grade, Google Docs would not respond.

Neither would anything else. I was offline. Couldn’t download the second difficult paper, and that left me unable to finish the work I’d laid out to do last night.

{sigh} So, this morning, with whatever was ailing Cox resolved, I still have three more papers to read, one of them something that will take forever to critique.

Honest to god, this is not the way I want to start the day. It’s six o’clock in the morning and I just can’t bring myself to read the thing closely. I have until 7:45, when Charley shows up, to get through this stuff in anything like a more or less uninterrupted way—after that, life is a kaleidoscope.

In that hour and 45 minutes, though, Cassie has to be fed and I need to get something to eat, since I hate being rushed and buffeted around during breakfast even more than I hate having to read student copy before dawn cracks. And the pool needs to be tended to. Again. That’s about 45 minutes or an hour of work.

Today is Wednesday from Hell, so these papers have to be read before 10:30 a.m. Either that, or I pick up the stuff around 9:30 and read until 11:00 p.m. Again. Assuming Cox stays up that late.

We finally landed a contract (well, in theory: I’ll believe it when I see it) from our would-be client in D.C. Pay is not great: to earn our target of $60 an hour, we’ll have to read 20 pages an hour. Speaking of needing a Stratoliner…

Anyway, we’re told this will happen in December. That’s good. Though I desperately need a break (is there a way of expressing how tired I am???), I’ve been sitting here wondering how on earth I’m going to get through December with no income. Eight months of pay is now no longer enough for me to live on.

If I don’t get a job soon or we don’t get credible, steady work through the editorial service, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Well, it’s not getting any earlier. So I’d better start reading this damn thing.

 

MORE Money Happens!

It gets better and better. Yesterday afternoon the division chair’s redoubtable admin called and asked if I’d take on another course this fall! He’d already given me the maximum allowable number of courses—though the magazine writing course doesn’t start till mid-October and right now has only three students—and so this in theory makes four sections.

I’ll be surprised if the magazine writing thing makes—but then, so far I’ve been surprised every semester. It’s akin to taking a course in buggy-whip design. Wish they’d build a course in blog writing and management into their course bank. Since some punkins we know are actually making a living at this, it seems to me to fit right into the community-college mandate: pragmatic education that fosters life-long learning and serves nontraditional students.

Oh well. With or without Buggy Whip Design 201, three sections of composition will save my bedraggled tailfeathers again! 🙂

Though it’s been a busy summer, I’ve really enjoyed teaching the two comp sections that came my way in the second session. Both were really good classes, but the 102 class was one of the best bunches I’ve ever had the privilege of pretending to teach. Smart, highly motivated, and focused, they worked together well and almost all of them responded to the assignments with a high degree of success. It’s been quite a pleasure to work with them.

I think these short courses attract students who are already pretty confident in their abilities, usually with good reason. It would make sense for a student who worries about her or his English skills to enroll in a 16-week course, providing more time to wrestle with the assignments and more chances to get help at the learning center. So apparently the five- and eight-week courses self-select into pools of fluent writers with good study skills. The only serious exception was a lovely young woman who had to deal with some ESL issues in her written (not spoken) English, and she, too, had good reason to expect to succeed: she’s only 16 and is enrolled this fall in AP calculus. Math and science are her strong fields, and she’s evidently so good at them that a grade below an “A” doesn’t register in her consciousness.

Well, back to the subject at hand, our favorite topic, money. This development will make it possible for me to revamp the cash flow scheme along the lines that Frugal Scholar has suggested in many of her comments here: simplifying toward minimalism.

The issue is how to survive on a variable income, one that can produce some paychecks as low as a couple hundred bucks and some upwards of seventeen hundred dollah. For the staid at heart, this does nothing to foster a state of zen calm.

My plan now is to make Survival Savings a kind of “pool” account. All money other than Social Security will go into this fund, whether it’s teaching income, RASL, income tax refunds, insurance reimbursements, or the annual Costco AMEX rebate.

Social Security lands in my checking account whenever the government feels like sending it—deposit dates this year have ranged from  the 7th to the 13th of the month. So that plug of income will form the base income for the month. On the first of each month I’ll transfer the rest of what I need to pay the bills from Survival Savings, which will now hold every penny of income other than Social Security. The first-of-the-month transfer will tide me over until Social Security is finally deposited. Because Social Security is a fixed payment, the amount I need to come up with from other sources is pretty much the same from month to month: about $1300, up from $1100 because of the not-really-inflationary increases in grocery and power costs.

Unfortunately, I’ll have to keep the self-escrow account to hold each month’s dribbles toward the annual property tax, homeowner’s insurance, car insurance, and Medigap insurance. Given my colorful arithmetic skills, I can’t afford to take a chance of accidentally spending so much that I can’t cover one or more of those costs. So there’s a bookkeeping complication that, alas, can’t go away.

And I’ll keep the emergency/diddle-it-away savings account, which helped a great deal with this summer’s dental and automotive exploits. It gets $200 a month.

Because of the rules about the number of transfers you can make from a money market or savings account, I guess those automatic transfers (for tax & insurance self-escrow and for the extraneous spending) will still have to come out of checking, rather than going direct from Survival Savings, which resides in the money market. To be safe, I think it would be better to make one transfer a month from that and then disburse the monthly self-escrow transfers from checking, which has no limit on the number of withdrawals one can make. That way, if a really big expense comes up, there’ll still be a few allowable transfers left on the money market account.

Burdensome banking rules notwithstanding, though, this scheme will fill in the potholes on the road to solvency. Despite the irregular income, the fact is if I’m teaching three & three plus anything else that comes my way, enough comes in over the course of a year to cover the bills—it’s just that in some months nothing comes in, and given my peculiar psychology, I find that unnerving. In a way, turning Survival Savings into a pool that collects the springwater of my on-again off-again income will make the variability of the income irrelevant. As long as Survival Savings lasts (probably another 18 months to two years), I’ll withdraw a steady, unchanging figure from it.

When it’s gone…well, then I’ll just have to come up with some new scheme.

Susan-B.-Anthony-Dollar

 

w00t! Over the Blackboard Wall and Free at Last with WordPress!

Wow! This is too good to be true! With the English 101 students out the door, I thought I’d take a few hours to at least get a start on preparing my wildcat WordPress website for the fall semester. This would mean discarding the summer session’s blog comments and replies (hundreds and hundreds of them!), updating or rewriting out-of-date posts, and uploading all new course materials.

I sat down one evening earlier this week to start what I expected to be the usual long and tedious process. Within an hour or two, I was done with everything except posting the fall syllabus, calendar, and assignments and rebuilding the grade sheet.

Whoa! That defies belief.

In Blackboard, you can expect to spend hours—many hours!—on converting a previous semester’s course for the new semester. Some of these eye-glazing chores are incredibly time-consuming. I would normally figure two to four days to convert each course.

But thanks to the vastly simpler and cleaner software that is WordPress, the do-it-yourself CMS sites I built convert quickly and easily.

Unload the blog comments (in which students deposited their essay drafts and then wrote comments on each others’ drafts):

Manage Comments > Select All > Move to Trash

Remove the posted 5-week modules:

Posts > Categories > Five-week Modules > Filter
Select Post > Quickedit > “Unpublish” x 5

The modules for the 16-week course were already scheduled, so I didn’t have to fool with setting the dates for those to go live.

Reset the dates for Group Assignments:

Posts > Categories > Group Assignments > Filter
Quick edit > Date > Update x 12

Beside myself with joy! No sitting there staring at the damn system grinding away, no tooth-clenching frustration, no crashes, no error messages…Wordpress just works! It works fast and efficiently, unlike the detestable Blackboard.

Speaking of the which, this charming little message came in today from the school’s Blackboard administrator:

FYI

If you are copying a previous course into your new course shell, copy the course first and then modify it. If you delete all content buttons from the new course shell you will lose the entry point to the course and will be unable to access it. Another alternative is to modify the new course shell, but DO NOT delete the “Announcement Button”. Leave the Announcement Button as your Entry Point. Please let me know if you have any questions.

You know…I want to teach; I don’t want to do an IT tech’s work. That notice up there: that is just the first in a flurry of similarly inscrutable and frustrating warnings and announcements that will come peppering down on us over the next two or three weeks.

WordPress doesn’t try to turn writers or teachers into something they’re not. WordPress lets you teach. Or write, as most of us prefer. Just teach. Just write.

This evening I finished off the conversion for Fall 2011. Started around 5:30 or so. By 7:00 p.m. I was done. DONE! That’s COMPLETELY FINISHED! With zero, nought, NO MORE fiddling around to have to do. The course is up and ready to go for the fall students.

This is so amazing.

Even more pleasing, one of the summer students remarked in passing that she really liked having the course materials and projects online through WordPress—that it was a lot easier than trying to work in Blackboard.

I should hire myself out to faculty who’d like to break free from Blackboard. I wonder what people would pay to get out from underneath that thing?

Could I persuade you to hire me to build something like this for you?