To get an idea of what How to Write a Thesis will be like, you need to start with the cover. It's not a photograph of someone writing a thesis—it's a To get an idea of what How to Write a Thesis will be like, you need to start with the cover. It's not a photograph of someone writing a thesis—it's a photograph of Umberto Eco in his office, looking smug and academically elite. Your enjoyment of the book will depend on how much patience you have for this. I can understand people who love it, and I can understand people who are very annoyed by it. I'm somewhere in between.
As I began reading the recent English translation of Eco's 1977 guide, I found myself frustrated with his smug, elite tone. I couldn't imagine asking any of my thesis students to read this. But I kept reading, and as I did I began to remember my own graduate training. I had a professor a lot like Eco, and reading this book brought that voice back to my mind. I realized that in the years since receiving my PhD, I've seen higher education in general become flimsier, less rigorous. Part of the reason I resisted Eco's guidance in the early pages is probably just that it's been a while since I've been pushed to that level of precision in research. When I got back into that mindset I was trained in, I started enjoying How to Write a Thesis a lot more. I can see recommending several sections of the book to my students. What's good about the book is content that I don't find in the many other academic writing guides.
However . . . the book is not without its problems, most of which stem not from Eco's tone (which I got used to) but from the outdated or unnecessary content. Pages and pages of Eco explaining how to cite sources or format documents—it's neither necessary nor particularly interesting. We turn to Chicago or APA and each school's or publication's particular style guides. Why make it all up from scratch?
The book is also firmly grounded in the era of typewritten manuscripts and research done entirely in libraries and on paper, not online. A lot of Eco's principles are still completely relevant (and badly needed in American academia), but it's distracting to have them presented from within a world that no longer exists. I see no reason not to update the book, allowing the valuable content to shine forth in a context that matches what students and researchers now experience. What Eco writes about creating bibliographic notecards, for example, is very much what I now do in Evernote; but for students who are new to the research process, asking them to translate Eco's advice into present-day technology is too much.
My final criticism is that Eco is writing only about research that can be done in print sources. Though he suggests that his method is appropriate to the hard sciences, I'm doubtful. And ethnographic, fieldwork-based research includes a lot of methods that aren't within Eco's landscape at all in this book. Someone could take the useful content from this book and make it a few chapters within a larger book that really does cover a fuller spectrum of research....more
I haven't really enjoyed online education, whether as a teacher or a student. As a student, I've taken a number of online courses, and while they can I haven't really enjoyed online education, whether as a teacher or a student. As a student, I've taken a number of online courses, and while they can be a decent way of getting some information, they haven't been anything like actually being in a classroom. I'm told that much more engaging, vibrant online classes exist; I just haven't found them yet.
As a teacher, when I'm leading an online class I often feel like I'm in a big, empty, sterile room, talking to no one. There are times where I feel more connection than that to my students, but overall I feel very little connection, and the whole experience seems much less satisfying and interesting than being in a classroom with people.
However, I'm at a school that is pushing me to do more and more online teaching, so as long as I'm here, I'd better keep trying to become better at it, regardless of whether I'll ever love it. I'd seen an article by Flower Darby in the Chronicle for Higher Ed and decided to check out her book.
The book is good. It has a lot of tips to help foster the connection with our students that all of us wish for. In the days since finishing the book, I've already started putting into practice Darby's advice about using video to make weekly announcements, instead of just typing out messages all the time. I'm not comfortable posting awkwardly unprofessional videos of myself, and I haven't yet seen if students will now more readily post videos of themselves in response. (I'm also not sure if it's going to be feasible for my classes, most of which reach out to students all over the world, some of whom struggle with bandwidth costs and reliability.) But it's a start, and will probably get easier as I continue doing it.
The other helpful part of the book is the many references to other books on the same topic, which I hope to look at over the next few months. I love learning, but it's hard to want to learn something I don't have great interest in doing. Darby's book helped me improve a little bit, but it hasn't convinced me that this will ever be my life's passion....more
For anyone who has kept up with the Chronicle of Higher Education regularly over the last several years or more, The Adjunct Underclass reads like a For anyone who has kept up with the Chronicle of Higher Education regularly over the last several years or more, The Adjunct Underclass reads like a greatest hits compilation of all that we've seen at CHE, week after week. In fact, CHE is where I first heard about this book. What sets Herb Childress's book apart is the clear, well-reasoned argument that he steadily builds through the book. (Also, you don't have to endure the arrogant grandstanding and childish bickering in the comments section, which is apparently an essential part of any article posted to the CHE website. I love books.) This is the kind of book that people like me, who have been shut out of the collegiate life we once dreamed of, will both cheer for and weep over. It resonates so deeply with those disappointed hopes. I don't know if people who have achieved their tenure-track university dreams will understand the book; they may feel that it is unfair or too extreme.
I'll mention a few specific points that I especially enjoyed. The first is Childress's explanation of why, despite the many "With a PhD, you can do any career!" websites, PhDs are ill-suited to any vocation except the university. This is something I have felt very acutely, but I've never heard anyone talk about it this perfectly.
There's a lot of commentary in doctoral education circles about preparing students for "alt-careers," bringing their intelligence to bear in a variety of industries rather than focusing only upon an academic livelihood. Although all those adjuncts and postdocs could leave, could go into lives in pharma or finance (and make more money than they would as professors anyway), most careers are misfit for the mindset engendered by a good doctoral education. . . . Commerce rewards expertise, that thing that you know you can do reliably and quickly. Academic life rewards almost the inverse condition, a constant state of "not-knowing," a discontent with current knowledge and current practice, a desire to reexamine the foundations of one's knowledge. . . . The work of the doctorate, done well, makes its participants ill-shaped for other ways of living. They cling to academic career hopes in the face of evidence—not merely out of wishful thinking that someday they might be allowed inside the academic gates, but because it's the way scholars understand the world, and because other careers are less open to curiosity. (64–65)
I have found all of this to be completely true. I feel that my lack of success in applying for jobs outside of academia is at least in part because of this misfit—other industries couldn't care less about my broad-minded perspective, my ongoing curiosity, my ability to synthesize many streams of knowledge. I mean, job descriptions may indicate that this is the kind of person they want to hire; but it's not true.
A second point that I found very insightful was Childress's explanation (127–129) of how there can be more women in the professorate, and yet higher education is still unfriendly toward women. It's the same as in other industries, where opening the doors to women professionals only led to the creation of a lower class of non-professional workers who took on a number of the tasks that the professionals used to do. In the case of higher ed, this happened when greater numbers of women were allowed to become professors, but then much of the work shifted down to the contingent (adjunct) workforce—non-professional workers who are paid less and given fewer benefits and no job security. Surprise: this workforce includes a higher percentage of women than men. And so the injustice continues, but in a situation in which it is neatly invisible.
A final point that I want to remember is Childress's discussion of why the commodification of a college education is a bad thing. A lot of people now have the idea that a three-credit intro to calculus course at one college is the same as that intro course at any other college. In chapter 5, Childress argues that this is not the case, and that believing it is true has done damage to education. I hadn't thought of this so clearly before, but I agree with what Childress says. Added to this, he also outlines why top-tier research schools are different from middle-class state universities and other levels of schools. I knew a little of this already from reading David Labaree's A Perfect Mess, and what Childress writes supports and expands that to the current educational environment. It's highly recommended reading for all parents and students thinking about where to go to college and why.
The Adjunct Underclass is a book I would gladly give to anyone considering a PhD, especially in the humanities. (In fact, I plan to buy a copy to have on hand, for the next time I'm talking with someone like that.) Though it's true that most academic hopefuls won't heed Childress's advice, feeling that they are that one lucky person who will actually get the job they're dreaming of, reading this book will at least give them one more opportunity to learn what academia is really like now. "I think we have likewise passed the point of peak faculty," Childress writes near the end of the book.
A combination of consumer thinking, market fluidity, loss of professional status, technological innovation, and demographic shifts has led us to a point where the faculty will never again be a full-time, primarily tenure-track institutional commitment. There will always be teachers, sure. But the idea of "the faculty" is as dead as the idea of coal; it'll carry on for a while because of sunk costs and the gasping demands of those still left in the industry—but really, it's gone. (135)
The last chapter is bleak and sad, but I could relate to a lot of it. Giving up on dreams of academic life is really hard, and I haven't found my way through it yet. The Adjunct Underclass helped me see that I'm not alone, I'm not weird; this is something that many people are enduring, and I'm thankful that my situation is not nearly so bad as what some other people are going through. In a relatively brief book, Childress has brought up a lot of insightful points to consider, and I hope it leads to positive changes. It's too late to do anything in my own life, but may it improve the lives of the people just starting to imagine how awesome it would be to be a professor....more
Reading this collection of chapters, one could get the idea that ethnomusicologists are a pretty uptight, overanalytical group of people. In reality, Reading this collection of chapters, one could get the idea that ethnomusicologists are a pretty uptight, overanalytical group of people. In reality, many of them are really outgoing, friendly, and joyful (and this comes through in some chapters, too). But they can also be uptight and overanalytical. A number of chapters in this book seem to be written in the fear that a gigantic copy of Edward Said’s Orientalism is peering disapprovingly over the author’s shoulder. I sometimes wonder if academia would be more fun without Orientalism and a couple other key texts that continue to make academics uncomfortable and paranoid. Yes, these texts have brought up ideas that are worth pondering; but they’ve also led to a fear and mistrust of just plain, simple living. Some activities and ways-of-being that might otherwise be good fun now have to be analyzed to make sure they fully pass the test that the sacred texts require.
Anyway, for me the high point of Performing Ethnomusicology is Ricardo Trimillos’s opening chapter, in which he traces the history of how we got to where we are today, with so many universities presuming at an ethnomusicology program will necessarily include performing ensembles. I lived through this experience, playing in the Thai ensemble while I studied at Kent State University, and so it was fascinating for me to read how that context developed over the previous few centuries. Some details I knew, some where new and surprising. And it was all most helpful in thinking about the tradition of performing ensembles.
Other highlights for me were Scott Marcus’s chapter on the community connections that have happened as part of the development of UC Santa Barbara’s Middle Eastern ensemble, and Ted Solís’s autobiographical sketch of what Latin marimba playing means to him, personally and professionally. I was also very interested in David Hughes’s description of the music program at SOAS, because I’ve long been aware of that program but have never known much about what it’s like.
I have two criticisms. The first is that, especially in the first third or half of the book, a reader can feel very persona non grata if he has no direct connection to Wesleyan University, Javanese gamelan, or Mantle Hood. Those opening chapters are almost entirely focused on Wesleyan and gamelan in some way or another, though later chapters move to other areas and topics, which I appreciated.
The other criticism is that most of the reflection in this book is about pretty great success stories. It’s nice to read about those, but it leaves one with the idea that all you have to do is buy a gamelan set, put a notice on a bulletin board, and you’ll almost instantly have a dedicated core group of players. But surely there must be cases where an ensemble was launched and didn’t work out so well, right? That would be helpful information, too. Anne Rasmussen and maybe one or two other authors mention some not-quite-perfect examples, but even those seem relatively cautious. I want to know some of the ways performance ensembles can go wrong, and what we learn from that.
Overall, this is a helpful guide in thinking through the idea and history of the ethnomusicology performance ensemble. It could have been livened up considerably by including someone like Charlie Keil, and it could have presented a broader range of programs and experiences. But what’s here is useful, especially as my department is in the midst of thinking through what a performance ensemble might look like here....more
A Perfect Mess was recommended by the Chronicle of Higher Education as an essential read for grad students and anyone involved in higher ed. I think tA Perfect Mess was recommended by the Chronicle of Higher Education as an essential read for grad students and anyone involved in higher ed. I think they’re right—though, as I’ll point out later, there are plenty of reasons that CHE would be interested in having a wide spectrum of people read and accept David Labaree’s point of view in the book.
Labaree’s research is fascinating. I learned a lot about the development of American higher ed—in particular, the very different roles that it has played throughout the nation’s history. The Labaree’s explanations of the characteristics of the system that allowed it to grow and thrive are a very helpful framework for understanding a complex history.
There are some gaps in Labaree’s perspective (as I’m sure he himself would readily admit—196 pages is just skimming the surface of this topic!). One is that I think the situation for Christian colleges would yield some different and interesting findings, particularly in the reasons parents send their children to such schools, and what people expect from an education there. There will be a lot of parallels with what Labaree has written, of course, but also some intriguing differences that will complicate the narrative.
The other area that is strangely lacking is any consideration of the development of distance-based, online courses. This trend hasn’t yet found its place in the higher ed environment, but it continues to lurk in all the nooks and crannies, ready to adapt and become something that changes the landscape more significantly. Labaree seems to assume that online learning is not even in the same class as a residence university—and in many areas, of course I agree with him—but it is something worth serious consideration, nonetheless.
I was glad that in chapter 8, Labaree gives an honest appraisal of the trauma that is now built into the pursuit of higher ed, and especially of a Ph.D. In the current climate, a huge number of people who receive doctorates will never find work in the academia that nurtured them on dreams of the professoriate. The statistics in this chapter should be soberly considered by anyone thinking about a terminal degree. But what Labaree omits is what seems like the most obvious question: Given this situation, which everyone in higher ed is very aware of, why are institutions granting an increasing number of doctorates? How can that irresponsible behavior be justified? It’s no surprise that the American public is less and less willing to support the system of higher ed when it’s producing such excessive superfluity.
Chapter 9, the conclusion, is Labaree’s defense of why the American higher ed system needs to remain as it is, against calls for large-scale reform. I found this to be the most unsatisfying, infuriating chapter in the book. Labaree’s conclusion is exactly what you would expect from a late-career tenured faculty member: leave everything the way it is. “The paradox,” he writes,
is that the primary benefits of the system of higher education derive from its form, but this form did not arise in order to produce these benefits. We need to preserve the form in order to continue enjoying these benefits, but unfortunately the organizational foundations on which the form is built are, on the face of it, absurd. . . . Awkwardly, this means that the institution depends on attributes that reasonable people would find deplorable: organizational anarchy, professional hypocrisy, and public inscrutability. (190)
I found it very odd that in a book that argues that the triumph of American higher ed is its ability to adapt and respond to various needs, the conclusion is that it now needs to resist the pressure to adapt to the current world.
Labaree then gives three basic calls for reform, and answers each with the reason that such reform is the wrong idea. Reformers call for transparency: where are the tax and tuition dollars going in the university? Labaree’s response: “the autonomy of the university depends on its ability to shield its inner workings from public scrutiny. It relies on opacity. Autonomy will end if the public can see everything that is going on and what everything costs” (191–192).
A second call for reform is to disaggregate the many and tortuous structures and organizations that exist within a university. Why can’t everything be made clear? Labaree responds that “A key organizational element that makes the university so effective is its anarchic complexity” (193). The third area of reform is academic principle. This one is less clearly explained in the book. Basically, it means that hiring in higher ed ought to be done based on principle: is the finalist for this position a scholar whom I respect? Is the work and specialty of this scholar of obvious, clear value? But Labaree counters that “part of what keeps universities healthy and autonomous is hypocrisy. . . . The result is incredibly messy, and it permits a lot of quirky—even ridiculous—research agendas, courses, and instructional programs. . . . It’s exactly the kind of mess we need to treasure and preserve and defend from all opponents” (193–194). Interestingly, “ridiculous” is just the word that came to mind as I read this chapter. Labaree's assertions make sense only to those few who have made to the inner circle of academia. To everyone else, it seems radically out of step with contemporary American society and where we ought to be headed.
It makes total sense that the Chronicle of Higher Education wants this book widely read. Unfortunately, though there is great information along the way, the conclusions are off the mark....more
I was really happy to see the announcement from Sage about this book. As I'm just getting into supervising master's students, and in the midst of planI was really happy to see the announcement from Sage about this book. As I'm just getting into supervising master's students, and in the midst of planning a doctoral program for our school, it seemed like absolutely the right kind of book for me right now.
Unfortunately, the book was not at all what I'd expected. It's a bit unfocused and meandering, and there is strangely little distinction between the subjects covered from one chapter to the next. Much of the book is about writing and collaboration--which is fine, it's just nothing new.
The biggest problem, though, is that the book is very poorly edited. It all has a "nonnative English speaker" feel, which I found distracting. That should have been smoothed out by the editor, who also should have caught the many typos throughout the book. It's hardly encouraging to read a book about the doctoral process when the book is full of mistakes.
I was hoping that this would be a book I could share with all of my students as we work together, but this just isn't good enough.
(I thank Sage Publications for the free review copy, and I'm sorry that I couldn't give it a more positive review.)
Management Fads in Higher Education is an interesting, and often hilarious, book. It's hilarious because anyone who has been involved in administratioManagement Fads in Higher Education is an interesting, and often hilarious, book. It's hilarious because anyone who has been involved in administration will recognize much of what Robert Birnbaum is talking about. For me, as I read Birnbaum's overview of various management fads from the 1960s through the early 2000s (the first section of the book) I was surprised to find that so many of the fads I had experienced had a history of moving from business to nonprofit--and that so much of what I've experienced is actually so old!
The problem with this book, however, is that Birnbaum is so persuasive about how bad management fads are that he paints himself into a corner. By about halfway through the book, I was wondering: What's the conclusion going to be? If all of these fads are ridiculous, then what are we supposed to be doing?
Unfortunately, the conclusion is not very graceful. On page 206 (near the end of the book), and seemingly out of nowhere, Birnbaum gives a section of "Positive Residuals of Fads," which explains some of the benefits of management fads. I found it slightly jarring, given that almost everything up to that point had been negative. "A fad should never be adopted," Birnbaum writes. "But neither should it be rejected out of hand" (231). The context helps that statement be understandable, but it's still a fuzzy conclusion.
The indistinctness of Birnbaum's conclusion is very evident in the closing lines of the book:
Academic management fads are potentially disruptive in the hands of insecure or inexperienced managers who adopt them because they do not know what else to do. Academic management fads are potentially useful when managers who have internalized the critical norms and values of their institutions add the kernel of truth in each fad to their store of knowledge and behavioral repertoires." (241)
He's not wrong, but it's somehow less than what I was hoping for as I enjoyed the first half of the book....more
There's little here that isn't found in pretty much any other book about leadership. That's not an insult; it merely shows that leadership is a specifThere's little here that isn't found in pretty much any other book about leadership. That's not an insult; it merely shows that leadership is a specific skill that can be learned (and it also shows that I've read too many books about leadership). But what I like about this book is its specific focus on the university context. That angle was new, and I thought it was right on. I resonated with everything Gunsalus said about moving to the admin side of higher ed:
When you take on an administrative role, you become--like it or not--an authority figure. There are few places where this is as problematic as in an academic environment, because ambivalence about authority is pervasive. You've heard the jokes about academic administration being like herding cats, and you've likely made comments yourself about overreaching bureaucrats. Now you've become one. (11)
It is a major transition to move from a professorship where one largely controls one's own intellectual agenda to a position in which one can be nibbled to death by administrivia: the tyranny of the in-box, telephone, drop-in visitors, email, and the latest form or survey required by some bureaucrat in University Hall. (12)
The tone is conversational and friendly, and I would recommend that any new university faculty read this as preparation for being a useful part of the community....more
I'm late to this party. Excellent Sheep made quite a splash among academics when it was published in 2014--as evidenced by the many articles praising I'm late to this party. Excellent Sheep made quite a splash among academics when it was published in 2014--as evidenced by the many articles praising it or excoriating it in journals such as The Chronicle of Higher Education. I've been looking forward to reading it myself, even though I knew the basic premise and quite a few of the details from having heard some of the chatter.
In general, I agree with a lot of what William Deresiewicz avers in the book. I see in my own life and in high school and college students today all of the things he talks about. For example, when he talks about the complex the high achieving students have (50ff.), feeling that there is no middle ground between grandiosity and depression--I so very much can relate to that. I deal with that every day. Reading someone else who understands that was one of those sigh-of-relief, I'm-not-alone moments.
I also understand when he writes about how universities have been overtaken by financial concerns: "Higher education increasingly resembles any other business now. What pays is in; what doesn't is under the gun" (67). I find this incredibly discouraging, both as a professor and as a parent. I agree with Deresiewicz about the value of a liberal arts education, but why did all the prestigious liberal arts colleges have to spend the past two decades making themselves into country clubs--and saddling themselves with debts from building projects that will take years of tuition increases to pay off? It's a shame that the discussion about the value of college and what college is even for must be sullied by the fact that parents are right: college is too expensive, and it doesn't seem like a great value. I don't know what the answer to that is, and Deresiewicz is better at pointing out the problems than proposing solutions.
My other problem with Excellent Sheep is Deresiewicz's inconsistent opinions about religion. At some points he mentions how religious universities are in many ways better at communicating the value and purpose of education than the elite Ivy League universities. He also points out how the idea of "service" originates in the Old Testament command, "Serve God, not Pharaoh," and the New Testament command, "Serve God, not Caesar." But then as he traces the progression of Western society and higher education (156-157, for example), he happily accepts the Enlightenment shift to science and reason, and away from religion. He views this move as inevitable and right. I wonder why he doesn't explore the possibility that the shift away from religion is a factor in the negative trends in higher education. I'm not suggesting that religion is the only reason for the decline of higher education--there are many, many reasons, of course--but surely it could be viewed as one significant factor. I found it puzzling that Deresiewicz didn't explore that path.
Another oddity of Excellent Sheep is that it's hard to tell what audience Deresiewicz is addressing. He speaks sometimes to his fellow academics, other times to parents of high school and college students, and still other times directly to the students themselves (chapter 6). It makes the book feel uneven and haphazard. Deresiewicz's angry, screed tone of voice--employed not all the time, but very often--also hinders his argument.
Another book on a similar topic, but written with a better tone and from multiple perspectives, is Liberal Arts for the Christian Life (2012), with chapters by a number of professors at Wheaton College. The multiple voices, speaking from multiple disciplines, made a very good argument for liberal arts education--from a Christian perspective specifically, but with valuable points for anyone....more
This is a good, basic overview of budgeting. How basic? Early on in the book you find this sentence: "Your organization should always try to create a This is a good, basic overview of budgeting. How basic? Early on in the book you find this sentence: "Your organization should always try to create a budget resulting in a surplus" (19). :) But really, it's a nice summary of the different stages of making a budget. For new academic admin and faculty, I would recommend this book along with Budgets and Financial Management in Higher Education, by Margaret J. Barr....more
I read Prioritizing Academic Programs and Services as part of my background reading leading to designing a new doctoral program at my institution. I wI read Prioritizing Academic Programs and Services as part of my background reading leading to designing a new doctoral program at my institution. I want to learn to speak "academic administration" so that I can frame the program proposal in the right terms, addressing the essential factors in such a process. For that purpose, I found Dickeson's book very valuable. Especially helpful were his lists of 10 Criteria for Prioritizing Academic Programs (chapter 5) and the External and Internal Factors Acting on an Institution's Equilibrium (chapter 9). I find these to be useful categories in which to arrange details I've gleaned from other resources.
I highly recommend this book to new university faculty members and all university administrators....more
This was fine--perfectly adequate for learning about university admin and budgeting. The main factor against it is its age. A lot has happened financiThis was fine--perfectly adequate for learning about university admin and budgeting. The main factor against it is its age. A lot has happened financially since 2005. For that reason, I recommend the more recent (2011) Budgets and Financial Management in Higher Education, by Margaret Barr and George McClellan. It contains almost all of the same information (though Goldstein's final chapter on how to prepare for retrenchment was unique and very helpful), and is able to look back at lessons learned from the 2008 financial crisis....more
As I begin to design a new grad program, this book was very helpful to me. Budgeting and finance is not my strength, and this book helped me break apaAs I begin to design a new grad program, this book was very helpful to me. Budgeting and finance is not my strength, and this book helped me break apart the big scary picture into little bits that I can handle. The writing is clumsy (it should've had one more proofreading pass), but the information is great (if a little repetitive by the final chapter). I may return to it as I continue in this process, and I would most certainly read it again if I move to a different job....more
I enjoyed reading Bowen's musings about his years in university administration (and most particularly, his years as President of Princeton University)I enjoyed reading Bowen's musings about his years in university administration (and most particularly, his years as President of Princeton University). There is no central, unifying theme to these chapters; it is simply a man talking about his career and observations. I read it in order to increase my understanding of "talking about universities," and it was very beneficial for that.
Two points Bowen raises were particularly interesting to me. The first is his belief that a university should not espouse a particular view on an issue, but instead should be a place that welcomes discussions from all viewpoints. I found this challenging when considering hosting speakers who represent rather extreme, and widely disagreeable, opinions. I'll continue to mull over Bowen's advice.
The second point--which I agree with wholeheartedly--is Bowen's caution against spending a lot of money on things that aren't directly related to higher education. I've been dismayed to see so many American universities seemingly in a race with each other to have the best student center, dining hall, gymnasium, sports field, etc.--which has even turned into the race to have the greenest buildings; and which has cost so much money. Bowen says:
At a time when there is so much concern about the affordability of higher education and our country's ability to find the resources needed to meet the most basic educational needs, it is especially important, I think, that relatively wealthy institutions avoid spending large amounts of money on projects that are highly visible but not necessarily fundamental to teaching and learning. (82)
Amen!
I appreciated that Bowen can speak with such calmness, as I know to some extent the pressures and stresses of administration. Clearly he has very fine character....more
Even though this book is now decades old, I found it so helpful as I'm working on designing a new doctoral program. As I read, I kept pulling out quotEven though this book is now decades old, I found it so helpful as I'm working on designing a new doctoral program. As I read, I kept pulling out quotes to incorporate into the various documents I'm working in. But it wasn't just for occasional soundbytes that I loved In Pursuit of the PhD; it was how often the authors challenged me with a new way of conceptualizing the way we go about grad school.
I also liked learning about the ways that grad school has changed over the years--especially from the 1960s through the writing of this book, circa 1990. It helped me see why grad school is the way it is today. Some things have changed in the intervening years from the book to now, but from my experience (attended grad school from 1997 through 2001) not much has changed, not very significantly. The fields are more complicated and esoteric, the wrestling with postmodern theory continues, the academic job market is as bad as it's ever been. It was helpful for me to see in this study where the current situation came from, and how other eras were different in certain ways.
There is too much to say about In Pursuit of the PhD. It's been a fantastic read--many chapters progressing like a good detective story: start with an intriguing question, and then examine the evidence to move closer to an answer. There are not a lot of people in the world who would love this book, but I'm one of those few....more
I loved this book. It's been on my to-read list for a while, and now as I work on the details of a new doctoral program at my institution, I finally gI loved this book. It's been on my to-read list for a while, and now as I work on the details of a new doctoral program at my institution, I finally get to check out the big pile of relevant books from that list. Menand's book was right at the top. I value the history of the development of American higher education that Menand presents. It's helpful to me, in designing a new program, to understand the historical foundation and how in some areas reverence for tradition is a hindrance to where grad studies ought to be going. Menand could be quoted out of context to make him seem like a curmudgeon, but I found that he maintains a hopefulness throughout the book, that even the ways higher ed has become out of step with reality are not insurmountable obstacles. He keeps the reader clearly focused on reality, in order not to get bogged down in abstruse discussions. For example: "The divorce between liberalism and professionalism as educational missions rests on a superstition: that the practical is the enemy of the true. This is nonsense. Disinterestedness is perfectly consistent with practical ambition, and practical ambitions are perfectly consistent with disinterestedness. If anyone should understand that, it's a college professor" (57).
I enjoyed each of the four essays in The Marketplace of Ideas, but the third and fourth chapters were especially eye-opening for me. In chapter 3, "Interdisciplinarity and Anxiety," Menand gets at why academics idealize interdisciplinarity. What is it that we expect it to be, and what chronic shortcomings do we want it to correct? I thought his distinction of the humanities as being transmissable (able to be taught to students) but not transferable (a specialist in one area cannot make judgments about another area) was an apt way to get at the professional anxieties that academics experience. This, plus his presentation of the post-WWII changes in higher ed (growth from 1945-1970, and then a decline), leads to insightful ideas about the deliberate insularity of a humanities Ph.D. program.
Some of Menand's hardest-hitting criticisms are in chapter 4, "Why Do Professors All Think Alike?" Menand examines the ways in which a humanities Ph.D. is a self-selecting field, and the diversity that is crucial to its usefulness is removed before it even gets a chance to contribute. He points out that a humanities Ph.D. takes years longer than a medical or law degree, and that only half of the people who enter a grad program end up finishing the degree. As he says, "there is a huge social inefficiency in taking people of high intelligence and devoting resources to training them in programs that half will never complete and for jobs that most will not get" (152). The ambiguity of the purpose of a humanities Ph.D. is a huge factor in the 10 years or more that people devote to a program; "Students continue to check into the doctoral motel, and they don't seem terribly eager to check out" (150). Menand's opinion of the value of the doctoral dissertation is exactly what I have argued for in trying to design a doctoral program that doesn't lean so heavily on the dissertation. A he says, "the idea that the doctoral thesis is a rigorous requirement is belied by the quality of most doctoral theses. If every graduate student were required to publish a single peer-reviewed article instead of writing a thesis, the net result would probably be a plus for scholarship" (152). Preach it! I find Menand's writing and arguments to be right on. The Marketplace of Ideas is one of the most enjoyable books I've read on higher ed in the US. I'll close my review with a lengthy, excellent quote from Menand's conclusion:
People are taught--more accurately, people are socialized, since the process selects for other attributes in addition to scholarly ability--to become expert in a field of specialized study; and then, at the end of a long, expensive, and highly single-minded process of credentialization, they are asked to perform tasks for which they have had no training whatsoever: to teach their fields to non-specialists, to connect what they teach to issues that students are likely to confront in the world outside the university, to be interdisciplinary, to write for a general audience, to justify their work to people outside their discipline and outside the academy. If we want professors to be better at these things, then we ought to train them differently. (157-158)
It's my hope to be part of the movement to reconceptualize higher ed in some of the ways that Menand is arguing for....more
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