It’s sometimes said — OK, I’ve sometimes said — that chairs at most institutions shoulder a lot of responsibility without a lot of power. We sit uneasily in the middle tier of the org chart, a place that can often feel pretty lonely. And we usually are there without much (or any) guidance: It’s a role that little in our preprofessional training has prepared us for, and for which the institution provides scant resources.
As a longstanding personnel practice, this is really quite puzzling.
Imagine, for instance, a young violin prodigy who — after years of lessons and thousands upon thousands of hours of lonely practice, unsuccessful auditions, and poorly paid temporary gigs — finally lands a chair in the New York Philharmonic. If you’re a faculty member in a permanent position at a college or university, that’s you. You’ve grabbed the brass ring. Now imagine that — after a few years of playing well, moving up from third chair to second to concertmaster and releasing some well-regarded recordings — our violinist is made the orchestra’s … managing director. Overseeing the orchestra’s daily operations, spearheading its strategic planning, and supervising the different departments responsible for fund raising, event production, and all the rest. That’s a department chair. It’s a strange way to run a railroad, but it’s how we do it.
The mystery and confusion surrounding this vital position in academe are why I wrote my new book, How to Chair a Department, out next month from the Johns Hopkins University Press. While writing it, I stored the files for various chapters in a folder called “Chairsplaining.” The book attempts to survey the wide landscape of a department chair’s or a program director’s job, and to provide broad principles to support a strategic approach to the role.
Sometimes, however, those principles can seem difficult to apply to the prickly, particular situations that arise in our own departments, among colleagues and even friends. So I’m pleased now to launch this monthly advice column, “Ask the Chair.” I’m here to try to fill in some of that training you never got and to provide a Guide for the Perplexed. (But consider reading How to Chair a Department, too!) If you’ve got a situation or a problem on which you could use some advice, share it with me on Twitter or Facebook; I’ll do my best to reply to you here. And I will keep your identity in confidence.
To get things started, colleagues sent me these questions, which have puzzled more than a few chairs and program directors in recent years.
Question: I’m not happy about my department’s reliance on adjunct instructors, but my university couldn’t function without them. What leverage do I have as a department chair to make the conditions of their employment more professional and more ethical — even, dare I wish it, more humane?
— Raging Against (While Operating) the Machine
Dear RATM,
One of the most difficult aspects of moving into academic administration is that you give up — at least to some degree — the ability to criticize the institution from the outside. As chair, like any middle manager, you’ll sometimes be expected to act in accordance with policies you disagree with.
Faculty members (especially tenured ones) can lob criticisms at the institution and its administration with near impunity. But chairs — while never surrendering the right to critique, which is an essential element of academic freedom — sometimes have to hold their noses and carry out a mandate or decision that they find misguided, or even distasteful.
I love the way you’ve framed your question, RATM, which shows that you understand some of the limitations of the chair’s role. You could band together with other department chairs and program directors and push collectively for a response from the administration. But as a lone department chair, you’re unlikely to have much leverage.
Accepting the position means agreeing to carry out institutional rules and mandates. That said, there are small but significant things a department chair can (and should) do to make an unfair situation a bit more humane for contingent colleagues. I’ll start by stating the givens over which you will have little or no control: The senior administration will set salaries for contingent faculty members, decide on benefits (if any), and define their teaching load.
That’s a lot that’s already set in stone. So what can you do as chair?
First, while you don’t control the contractual course load for part-time and nontenure-track faculty members, you probably do have some ability to create a genial course schedule for them. For example, try to double-up their classes: Two sections of the same course mean less prep time than assigning someone to teach two entirely different courses. Likewise, be thoughtful about their weekly teaching schedules. Asking an adjunct to teach four or five days a week, rather than consolidating that instructor’s courses on two or three days, adds unnecessary commuting time to an already full teaching schedule and makes a challenging situation that much worse.
Perhaps the area in which department heads most often fail our contingent colleagues is in supporting their scholarly aspirations. Some instructors in your department may prefer an adjunct position because they appreciate the flexibility of part-time teaching and/or have little or no research expectations.
But many or most of your adjuncts would be happier, in a perfect world, with a full-time, permanent appointment. Part of what you can do to support these folks is to provide them with opportunities to continue burnishing their scholarly credentials. That may mean using departmental funds to support their participation in conferences and inviting them to present their work at faculty colloquia. You could also ask contingent scholars to be part of a visiting-speakers series — but if you do, pay them what you would pay a visiting faculty member to participate.
In the departments I have led, most of my contingent instructors have been on the job market for permanent positions. I’ve always tried to break the ice by acknowledging that fact explicitly, and offering to write them a letter in support of their next job (without suggesting that I’m trying to get rid of them!). I also ask them to invite me to observe them teach, so that I can include convincing details in the recommendation letter I write. And in order to speak to their scholarly qualifications — though ideally they have other letter writers who can do a better job on that front — I familiarize myself with their research, in print or in draft.
In the end, supporting contingent faculty members looks a lot like supporting tenure-track and tenured professors: You’re simply trying to provide the conditions under which they can realize their professional aspirations.
Question: I’ve chaired my department for the past five years — quite well, I think — and now I’m stepping down. Unfortunately, I think the department has picked rather poorly in choosing my replacement; I’m not confident we’re in good hands moving forward. How can I best share my institutional knowledge and experience with my successor?
— Éminence grise
Dear Éminence,
You’ve finished a term as chair feeling good about the work you’ve accomplished. That’s no mean feat. I hope this means you have a period of leave to look forward to. And I hope your departmental colleagues have found, or will find, a way to celebrate your service to the department. (If they need a hint, just send me an email address.)
Now — although I’m not sure you’re ready to hear this — it’s time for you to lie low for a while.
In my book I suggest that soon-to-be-ex chairs should get in the habit of referring to their replacement as their “successor.” Doing so will remind you that the goal here is for the new chair to succeed. The same holds for “succession” planning: You are strategically preparing for the success of the person who will fill the role after you.
At many institutions, a successful term as chair is recognized with a period of sabbatical leave. And while there’s no reason to suspect it’s granted for this reason, one of the unintended benefits is that it moves former chairs away from their departments for a bit, so that the new kid can find his or her own path forward. (A heads-up here for would-be and future chairs: Make sure to negotiate a semester or year of leave at the conclusion of your term — because you’re going to need it.)
Whether or not you have leave, once you step down, adopt a policy with your successor of “speaking only when spoken to,” as it were. Make clear that you’re eager to be helpful and to answer questions, as needed. However, keep your opinions regarding the new direction of the department “in the vault” unless the new chair asks. Explicitly.
I’ve been “succeeded” a few times now in my career … and it’s a challenge. Your tongue may develop calluses from biting it, as you resist the urge to share your criticisms of your successor’s decisions and style. Sometimes departmental colleagues will assume that you’re a sympathetic ear when they want to complain about the “newbie.” If you can greet such criticisms with expressions of support (however vague) for the new chair — “I appreciate the more casual feel of our meetings now that we’re not getting an agenda in advance” — you’ll make it clear that you’re not receptive to that kind of gossip.
If your departure is imminent, Éminence, but hasn’t yet taken place, consider spending some time in the waning weeks or months updating your department handbook or other policy documents. Or starting to draft them, if they don’t exist, to provide the continuity and institutional memory that you’re concerned about.
But weighing in on the new chair’s leadership, no matter how well intentioned, won’t be well received by the new chair. Your colleagues won’t admire you for it, either. You had your turn to build and shape the department into the kind of place you’d want to step back into when you were through: Now give someone else a chance.
Perhaps it’s all a bit easier to hear in the dulcet tones of Bobby Smith of the Spinners. Let’s all sing along:
… Now it’s up to me
To bow out gracefully,
Though you hold the key.…
Whenever you call me, I’ll be there;
Whenever you want me, I’ll be there;
Whenever you need me, I’ll be there;
I’ll be around.
