And we’re very excited to be going to Mizzou! Cool people, cool program, cool campus, cool town. As we join the folks already there, we’re looking at a program that is going to be seriously strong.

Some rambling thoughts:

Jenny already has said some things about the spousal hire situation. It is remarkable, though, that the question of family is still that: a question. As if having a family is an odd thing; as if having a family and professional identity is incomprehensible. In this profession, it is very difficult to get a spousal hire - and we are lucky that the school that made the offer is one that already understands why spousal hires can be good things. What we did learn, I think, this year is how so many places assume that living apart is a normal choice when one becomes an academic (like being brought in on a job visit while also being told that a spousal hire would not happen). And if an academic couple wants to be in the same space, departments can be very hesitant to make any space available that is not part time or temporary.

And we say that as academics with excellent track records, solid CVs, and serious experience in our fields. Tenure lines are precious commodities. Sometimes folks don’t want to risk losing that line. Turfs are precious commodities as well. The imaginary disciplinary space can be as fought over as a parking space or run down apartment in New York City. Those battles, too, produce imaginary conflicts: he/she will vote in a different direction; he/she will reject tradition; he/she is too radical/traditional for us.

Another issue here is that of agency. When it comes to offering support, departments one already belongs to often act as if they have no agency. The rhetorical gesture is as follows: “I hope it works out.” “I hope things go well.” “I hope you guys get the position.” Each remark attributes agency to a force that exists somewhere else, somewhere outside of the one who speaks. As if those who already command power and attention are not speaking, acting, or moving within the department’s policy setup and are thus not affecting the outcome of a vote or decision. Call this invisible agency. It’s there, but we pretend otherwise.

Other thoughts on these past six months: Then there is the question of interviewing. Others have commented on their interviewing experiences this year (and, of course, I have stories from past years), and the stories are well circulated at all levels - from brand new to established professor. Still, I’m fascinated with job searches - from being on both sides. They are mysterious, frustrating, confusing; they offer moments which elicit praise or scorn within either hours or months.

With solid qualifications and publications, I’d think that by this time the interviewing situation would have shifted a bit to discussion, not prove your value (a position we encounter, at times, when we are new). Still, the prove your value factor comes up as folks turn discussion about one’s work into doubts. “How can that really work?” I remember hearing such questions six years ago when I first went out on the market and had to prove that first year students could write for the Web. Interviewer suspicions often reflect the same question brand new students ask. “That would never work in reality!” Yet, the theory/practice proposed is often being deployed with great success and with one’s syllabi, websites, and ethos on the table. My favorite is being asked: “Yes, but what about race? How could African American students really do that?” Besides the implicit racism in the question (which can come from non-white faculty), it’s phrased as if I haven’t been teaching at two universities in DETROIT over the last five years. Right. How on earth could what I do work since I’ve only been teaching in schools with 40-50 % African American student bodies?

And my other favorite question is the other mystery involved in this process (and one related to the above anecdote). The literature faculty who still are confused about writing. “Let me ask you this,” the question often begins, “how do you get your students to write well?” Such questions can come from new faculty or faculty in the field for over twenty years. That we are in English, that we assign writing, that we engage with writing (by reading), that we do all this as our professional identity is of no matter. The activity we call writing is still a mystery. And when you offer a solution (or partial solution) to that mystery, the response can be: No, that would never work. In other words: “We like the mystery and we like the doubt. Nothing you can say will prove otherwise. Our identities depend on this mystery remaining….”

The larger issue here, as well, is one of folksonomy. And here is where decisions become interesting because, despite the critique of the idiosyncratic or personal, departments bring such positions to their decisions. The “why aren’t you doing my work” job question is the most obvious example. But other examples can be found in the ambiguous “fit” notion or guesses at what one does exactly. “Are you really rhet/comp?” “Are you really good?” When we ask these questions, we are asking about ourselves: Am I really able to not project myself onto you or your work? Can I make value judgments not based on arbitrary notions of worth?

These are ramblings. Sketches of the profession. Notes. Blog scratches. And not because we are going there, but because this is really what happened, Mizzou was different. And that, I think, is why we liked it so much and are so excited.