Posts Tagged 'Academia'

William Pannapacker wants to destroy higher education in the humanities.

Yesterday, I was reading CAA’s year in review newsletter and was drawn to the title of Pannapacker’s July 27 article, Over Educated, Underemployed: How to fix higher education. Pannapacker received his Ph.D. from Harvard in 1999 and is now an Associate Professor at Hope College. Given that he is an academic, I wasn’t sure what to expect upon reading the article. But I can tell you that I wasn’t expecting to be absolutely infuriated. Pannapacker seems to forget that he was, at one time, a graduate student. He singlehandedly manages to insult prospective and current graduate students everywhere.

The article begins by Pannapacker agreeing with journalist and writer Anya Kamenetz “that graduate students are ‘really smart suckers.” Already off to such a pleasant start, Pannapacker continues by stating his view on higher education in the humanities: “higher education in the humanities exists mainly to provide cheap, inexperienced teachers for undergraduates so that a shrinking percentage of tenured faculty members can meet an ever-escalating demand for specialized research.” He proceeds to tell us that he cannot recommend graduate study in the humanities unless prospective students are independently wealthy, have an extensive network, or are considering graduate school to advance up one’s current career ladder. His first suggestion for improving graduate school in the humanities is that there should be an organization that focuses on assisting and preparing graduate students for the working world. His article thus far didn’t provoke me into a rage, but everything after this point did.

Pannapacker’s second helpful hint for improving graduate studies is – and I quote this verbatim because it was shocking – Expose who’s really teaching undergraduates.

“Reliable, up-to-date information should be available about the employment practices of individual universities. Prospective undergraduates and their parents should be able to choose institutions on the basis of who is actually doing the teaching: tenured faculty with a long-term relationship to the institution and the protections of academic freedom (necessary for honest grading), or an army of transient, ill-paid, hired-at-the-last-minute adjuncts and graduate students without terminal degrees who are retained primarily on the basis of high evaluation scores from students (traded for high grades and low expectations). This information should have an impact on institutional rankings and the standing of graduates. Eventually, that might begin to reverse the trend toward gutting undergraduate teaching (now about 80 percent off the tenure track). If parents come to know how their children are being shortchanged—at such great expense—they might support reforms aimed at reallocating resources toward teaching.”

Let’s start with the first ridiculous claim, who is “really” teaching our undergraduates: “an army of transient, ill-paid, hired-at-the-last-minute adjuncts and graduate students without terminal degrees who are retained primarily on the basis of high evaluation scores from students (traded for high grades and low expectations).” Honestly? Dear Mr. Pannapacker, if graduate students aren’t teaching while in graduate school under the guidance of their more experienced professors, how else are they supposed to learn to teach? And in such a specialized manner? What graduate program would even think of letting its students graduate without teaching experience? How can you assume that TAs would happily and shadily give out high grades in exchange for or in hopes of high evaluations, and that they have low expectations? If any of my TAs at UCLA had low expectations for their students, I would not have done half as well in my “actual” (actual being work done for the high and mighty professor) coursework. My TAs would have been doing me, and themselves, a disservice by not having such high expectations. I would be disappointed because I wouldn’t be challenged enough in my education, and TAs would be disappointed because their teaching skills wouldn’t improve by clinging to the training wheels that are low expectations. One of the main reasons students enter graduate study is to learn how to become a teacher of that field and how to balance research with teaching.

The final claim in this paragraph simply made me feel sad after I read it. “If parents come to know how their children are being shortchanged—at such great expense—they might support reforms aimed at reallocating resources toward teaching.” Shortchanged? Why would graduate students be graduate students if they were not extremely knowledgable about their field? The word shortchanged assumes all of the above – that TAs have low expectations of their students and are lazy enough to not bother to try to push their students to excel. Graduate students more than anyone know the value of their field, and they can disseminate that knowledge on a more digestible level than professors often can. Parents should be grateful that their students have an “army” of graduate students whose purpose (aside from research) is to teach, share their knowledge, and along the way, to make their field more relatable and easily understandable to anyone who might be struggling with the coursework or the attending professor’s teaching.

Pannapacker’s next suggestion is to Tell the truth about graduate school. He argues that many faculty members see themselves as heroes who have “‘saved’ a student from entering business.” But faculty members, Pannapacker says, are also academic parents of sorts. They

… are motivated to reproduce themselves professionally because they see students as their “children,” they have little or no experience outside of higher education, and they regard a graduate-school placement as an accomplishment…

Pannapacker’s grammar makes it difficult for me to understand if the people who have “little to no experience” in the real world are the faculty or the students (sorry, children) or both – but either way, it’s unfair of Pannapacker to assume this for either party. Professors aren’t ignorant to the goings on of the real world, regardless if they’ve ever worked in corporate America. Students are getting more experience working “outside of higher education” with each year that budgets are slashed and they are forced to enter the working world. I personally have been out of school for a year and a half, and it is not something that I relish. Some days, my brain cells feel as though they’re turning to mush. Pannapacker, this is not what you want for the smart and able graduate students of America! American is already full of enough people outside of higher education and the next generation is getting stupider as K-12 education in America slowly dies. This is not the time to be preaching that students should not become graduate students and should instead abandon academia for the drudgery of the real world, leaving their knowledge to waste in the dark gutters of their minds.

And how about the nice pat on the back for those graduate students who are lucky to be such. Pannapacker doesn’t think getting accepted into a graduate program is something to be proud of – but don’t worry, your professors do! And they’re wrong to do so. Faculty foolishly ”regard a graduate-school placement as an accomplishment…” It doesn’t matter that you’ve slaved away on your senior or Master’s thesis and produced the foundations of what likely signifies you as a promising scholar. It doesn’t matter that you paid hundreds of dollars in application fees and spent weeks hunting down, researching, and talking to prospective advisors. You wasted your money visiting schools. And when your acceptance letter came, with whatever degree of funding offered to you, you should’ve shrugged it off. Got into Harvard? Full ride? No big deal. They’re just letting “inexperienced” and “really smart suckers” in, and wasting hundreds of thousands of dollars on them. (Yes, I’m using Harvard because it’s Pannapacker’s alma mater.) Bah humbug, I say! If you got into graduate school, no matter if you attend an Ivy League or a small state school, congratulations! And to those of you hoping for a nice crisp envelope filled with good wishes in your mailbox in the next couple months, I hope you get it.

Pannapacker argues repeatedly for free information, and I have nothing against making information, especially statistics about job placement, readily available to prospective and current students. This brings us to Pannapacker’s fourth and fifths points: Disrupt the graduate-school labor scheme and Train students for real careers. The fourth point of this article doesn’t appear to represent any real threat to morale in the same way the previous sections have. However, it is erroneous. I have spoken to professors from Ivy Leagues, small schools, and public but privately funded schools across the nation over the past year and a half, and not one of them let me off the phone without telling me about their department’s success or difficulties with job placement, whether I asked or not.

Pannapacker’s fifth point is more problematic. In one of the longest run-on sentences ever, he writes:

“Graduate programs must stop stigmatizing everything besides tenure-track positions at research universities that almost no one will get. They should cultivate an “alternative academic” sensibility by redesigning graduate school as professional training, including internships and networking opportunities, and working with other departments and programs, including partnerships with other institutions, granting agencies, government, and business to cultivate humanists who are prepared for hybrid careers in technology (“the digital humanities”), research, consulting, fundraising, publishing, and ethical leadership. … The largest challenge [facing these reforms] is the misguided investment of most tenured faculty members in the current system combined with the passivity of most graduate students and adjuncts, aggravated by the fear of unemployment that is now a permanent characteristic of academic life.”

In the four years of research I’ve done about graduate school and various programs,  I’ve never had the sense that graduate school as a whole was just going to train me for a life in academia. I realized that in a way, graduate school is what you make of it. It was obvious to me that if I wanted to gear my studies more toward curating, I knew I’d need to have internships in museums or galleries and coursework in conservation and museum studies before I’d be truly prepared for a curatorial position. If I wanted to simply be a professor, graduate school was already going to prepare me for that through teaching assistantships. It’s difficult for me to think of a single person I’ve talked to considering graduate school in the humanities who wants to use their humanities degree in the corporate world. This isn’t because they aren’t aware of their options. It is because an advanced degree in the humanities signifies something deeper than just wanting to build a career in the corporate world. It means that the person getting the degree has decided to devote a significant portion of their life to the detailed study of whatever field they’re in, and that they hope to continue that curiosity once they obtain their degree. Certainly there is nothing wrong with using one’s degree in any of the areas Pannapacker mentioned; I just think there is a disconnect between his idea that current graduate programs stigmatize “alternative” career options.

I’ve spoken to a lot of professors over the years, and I had one professor tell me that one of his active goals is to check his graduate students’ C.V.s after each semester. They discuss how professor and student could work together to make the C.V. as attractive as possible, be it through publication of a recent paper or co-authoring an article together. He also told me he actively seeks out internships and other opportunities for his students and has had incredible success placing them in jobs after they graduate because of the personal attention he gives his students. He’s assisted in placing his students happily in traditional teaching positions, conservation, curatorial work, non-profit work, and even, if memory serves me, government work.What a teacher! After that conversation, this professor became one of my academic heroes. He represents a unique case in the professors I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to – but only because he went so in depth with me about his concerns and efforts. Another professor was candid with me and told me that their department had tough luck placing students in recent years, and that I should take that into consideration. In my experience, professors do absolutely care about the placement of their students, wish for their success, and strive to assist their students in discovering what the best career option is for them.

Finally, we arrive at Pannapacker’s sixth point, which is equally disturbing as the second: Just walk away.

Do not let your irrational love for the humanities make you vulnerable to ongoing exploitation. Do not remain a captive to dubious promises about future rewards. Cut your losses, now. Accumulate work experiences and contacts that will enable you to support yourself, have health coverage, and something like a normal life. Even the more privileged students I mentioned earlier—and the ones who are not seeking traditional employment—could do a lot of good by refusing to support the current academic labor system. It exists because so many of us who care about the humanities and higher education in a sincere, idealistic way have been passively complicit with the destruction of both. You don’t have to return to school this fall, but the academic labor system depends on it. In order to reform higher education, many of us will have to leave it…

This entire paragraph made the hair on the back of my neck rise. Forgive my urge to bold some of the more enraging bits. Let’s start with the first sentence. My irrational love for the humanities. Irrational. Love. For. The. Humanities. Apparently Pannapacker received no sense of purpose, no sense of a higher calling from his PhD, because if he had, he would know that being in the humanities – loving it, dedicating yourself to it – is not irrational. It is irresponsible to be a professor in the humanities, as he is, and not love your field. By distancing yourself from your field, you risk losing your motivation, your creativity, your brilliance. I, in my irrational love for the humanities, simply seek to understand humanity, to understand what makes us act and why the world is the way it is. The questions I have are endless and I will dedicate my life to answering them and to coming up with puzzles of my own. My love for the humanities is what motivates my study. If I didn’t love it, if I wasn’t wholly interested in it, why would I bother pursuing graduate study? Why is Pannapacker, in his cold and callous state, bothering to continue “teaching” at Hope College? What is “a normal life” to Pannapacker? Obviously not what he’s living right now, because he is so against the academic life. I have been outside of academia for a year and a half, and my life has felt anything but “normal.” Scholarship is in my blood, as it should be for any scholar hoping to scratch the surface of the infinite questions waiting to be answered.

Graduate students, I hope that you are not taking Pannapacker’s advice. Support the system! Do return to school. Don’t abandon that which made you hungry for answers in the first place. If academia is a “normal life” to you – then live it, and live it well and proud.

I think Pannapacker should heed his own advice — and leave higher education, taking his negativity and bitterness with him, lest he destroy all that is good and wonderful of being a professor, a graduate student, a scholar.

Pannapacker’s article ignited such debate in the comments section on Slate that Slate published a followup article with responses from current graduate students. What do you think of Pannapacker’s ideas to improve graduate school in the humanities?

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I have a confession: over the weekend, I bought a Kindle … and I love it! I have long held the belief that e-readers and e-books will be the death of literacy or at the very least, the death of the art and beauty of the printed word. To some effect, I still maintain this belief for the wider world. Illiteracy is on the rise in America, and its condition will worsen as both K-12 and higher education budgets are slashed and red flags remain waving. Illiteracy certainly won’t be helped by one of the nation’s most popular bookstores, Borders, shutting its doors last year.

The once great bookstore is selling everything at a discounted rate, and stores across America are closing. This means no more Sunday trips to wander the store sipping on a Seattle’s Best coffee, no more comfy chair reading the first chapters of books before they are bought, no more running to the store at night to buy a book for school, no more last-second gift buying, and no more community of readers wandering the aisles as if in a secular cathedral. Welcome to the new America, and welcome the illiterate generation. How in the world could we reach the point where bookstores are now shutting their doors and trying to sell anything for a chance to make a buck? … The first reason for this devastating news has to do with an ever changing culture. We really do not value imagination anymore. No one is setting out to write the great American novel. Where are our Steinbecks, Fitzgeralds and Hemingways? They have been replaced by YouTube filmmakers, World Wide Web bloggers and Twittering twits. – Paul Moomjean, The illiterate generation

The choice to buy a Kindle was not an easy one for me, but it was an obvious one. My wrestling first began on Christmas morning. My parents are very techie. They have all kinds of gizmos and gadgets, but I was nonetheless perplexed when my mother unwrapped a shiny, new Kindle Fire from my father (who owns what I see as its competitor, the iPad). I was surprised because although my parents are techies, they are also avid book lovers. Sitting in the living room on Christmas, we were surrounded by hundreds of books, with hundreds more still throughout their home’s bedrooms.

I grew up with a love for books, something instilled in me by both my parents. When my father was a young man, he would place beautiful labels in his books that stated that said book belonged to (a blank space where my father carefully signed his name). My mother was a theology graduate student, so you can imagine how many books she had in her personal collection – and books of such rich and complex content. As a child, I had my fair share of books as well (all of which my family has faithfully kept in storage), and my more recent collegiate-age collections are collecting dust in my old bedroom, as my new married home couldn’t spatially support so many volumes. It was a terrible thing to decide which books to part with when I married. I am an academic, and like my mother, I buy books with the intent of using them for life. The natural choices for me were any books pertaining to the 17th century - any part of it, geographically or otherwise. Books that also made the journey to their new home were my art history books about theory, any and all Italian and Spanish art related books, my Harry Potter hardcovers, and, of course, my Caravaggio book collection. These are books that I would never want to own or read in digital format. My copy of Caravaggio’s Secrets by Dutoit & Bersani has both dried teardrops of frustration and epiphany, hurriedly scribbled notes, bent page corners, and floppy pages from the time I threw the book on the floor in a 2 AM fury when nothing the authors were saying made any sense. I later picked the book up and held it lovingly, feeling as if I had kicked a puppy. My books are precious to me.

Kindle Fire

When my mother passed around her Kindle Fire for us to examine, the first thing I noticed was how similar it was to the iPad. It has a graphic-intense touch interface and also has a library where the reader clicks on the cover of a book to read it. It opens up, and swipe or touch is used to turn the page. The Kindle Fire also has app capability, including the ability to play games. I had little interest in my mom’s Kindle at the time, apart from thinking that it was a nifty gadget and she would enjoy it. My iPhone (or, just another backlit screen to make my eyes slowly die) was enough for me, I thought. But, as my husband and I were going to leave, I had a revelation of sorts. I looked around and was met square in the face, anywhere I looked, with full bookshelves. I realized that if my parents or I ever move (and we will), we will share a similar problem: having to decide which books in our large collections to keep, boxing up those chosen books, finding strong men to carry those boxes, moving, and rebuilding and restocking our bookshelves. My bookshelves at home are full to the brim, and I hesitate to ask for books – especially art history books (which I enjoy receiving as gifts) – because my home simply don’t have room for them. I will be in more trouble if we move into a smaller apartment (ours is extremely, unusually, and luckilylarge). All these rapid-fire thoughts about books and space and weight led to a conclusion that I wasn’t too comfortable with initially, but knew that I had to embrace: I needed to invest in an E-Reader, not to keep up with the times, but to simply save space (and, as I’ve happily discovered in the past couple days, on book costs).

The pros of an E-Reader are obvious: they can support an enormous amount of books, they’re light and portable, and they’re relatively inexpensive. The cons were more unnerving: to me, E-Readers are a sign that the physical printed word, which I love so much, is most likely slowly dying. I can’t have nearly the same emotional and intellectual investment – indeed, interaction – with my Kindle books as I can with my physical books. I can’t cry onto my E-Reader and later, look back at that tear stain and fondly remember the moment of revelation or sadness that the text brought me. I can’t throw my Kindle down in frustration when I don’t understand part of my course readings. The other question that nagged at me as I was researching, was what if the E-Reader company went out of business – where would I buy my E-Books? Indeed, after reading this article in today’s Wall Street Journal, I realized that such a concern wasn’t silly at all and that I made the safe choice choosing Amazon. The biggest con was that some of my favorite art history scholars and publishers don’t offer books in digital format. After all, one of the major purposes of having an E-Reader was to save space by having art historical and other academic texts in my new small device.

B&N Nook Simple Touch

My New Years Resolution is to read more, so Monday seemed like an obvious choice to begin exploring this uncharted territory. I researched diligently for most of the day on Monday and found out some surprising information that I hope will be helpful. I initially had my heart set on the B&N Nook. I watched a 45-minute demonstration of the Nook one day in Barnes & Noble about a year ago, and I was impressed by the technology but sickened by the concept, so I ignored it. A year later, the Nook still struck a chord with me as the most elegant, stylish, ergonomically-friendly E-Reader. Sure enough, most reviews agreed with that. I’d physically held and tested the Nook so I knew more or less what to expect after I ordered it, but I had no idea what the Kindle looked like or felt like in person and that was a large part of why I was ambivalent toward buying it. I was further put off by the Kindle because ads drive me nuts (if I can help it, you’ll never see ads on Caravaggista!) and it’s a whopping $40 to “unsubscribe” from the ads, which appear on the Kindle’s screensaver and at the bottom of the home screen. I was more partial to the Nook’s visual arrangement of the library and the fonts it uses. The Nook’s reading font customization options are wonderful and numerous. In contrast, the Kindle Touch, while a step up for Amazon, didn’t seem to put much effort into taking advantage of the touch interface by creating a visual library or playing with fonts on its home screen or reading screen. It would turn out that all these features that I was debating were fraught over for nothing.

Kindle Touch

I played tug-of-war with the Nook and Kindle until I did a quick price comparison for their art history books. Amazon offers more specialized art history books for Kindle. B&N also maintains an impressive collection of art history books. However, when I compared prices between these two sellers, my jaw hit the floor. For the types of books I want, B&N is twice – sometimes three times – more expensive than Amazon. To give an example, James Elkins’ Pictures & Tears is listed at about $40 for the Nook, and $16 for the Kindle! I wondered what James Elkins himself would think of the price difference – he, who happily has his work online for academics and intellectuals to read or sample at no cost. For all its elegant display and fancy cases, the Nook lost my puppy love in an instant when I saw that its prices were so high.

Having been thinking about the Kindle all day, I wanted it in the palm of my hands immediately. I had read that it was available in some stores, but I didn’t know what stores. I planned on sucking it up and waiting two days for it to come in the mail … until my husband and I realized that Kindles are sold at Target. We drove to a Target not far from us, and I was excited because their website said the Kindle Touch was in stock. I’m sure you’ve guessed it – it wasn’t. We drove miles up the street to another Target and by this time, since we had impulsively put our dinner on hold so I could feed my new obsession, we were hungry and tired from chasing this wild goose. We (or rather, I) half-walked, half-ran to the electronics section to get a Kindle of my very own, and they had it, and we bought it, and … it was one of the best purchases I’ve ever made. The books are so cheap and physically non-existant that I don’t feel guilty buying them (I’ve just bought a novel so far, but downloaded a variety of free books).

I’ve decided that although I have concerns about what E-Readers mean for the wider general future of literacy, my Kindle isn’t indicative of a slow literacy death in me. My Kindle is terrible for reading PDFs of academic journals and books with extensive footnotes. It doesn’t offer (and I wouldn’t want) certain must-have books in digital format, such as works by Philip Sohm and David M. Stone. And because of this, challenging my mind through what I read in itself becomes more of a challenge, more of something to look forward to. I can hope that one day, academic publishers will do a good job of publishing their books simultaneously in print and digital format, allowing academics and students to read, highlight, and mark up those books, footnotes, and academic journals with ease. Until then, I am content to have a love of physical books for all their beauty, the way they feel in my hand, and the way I can interact with them, and a separate love for the smallness and ease of my new device.

How do you feel about E-Readers?


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