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Quenching a Thirst for Learning (Katherine Jamieson)
Aug. 23, 2009 (New York Times) -- I’m an adjunct professor, one of hundreds of thousands in an overeducated, unmoored, disposable work force staffing a majority of the nation’s colleges and universities. At the community college where I work, I have no permanent desk or office, no telephone, no benefits and, to many, no name. When I calculate the time and money spent traveling, grading, answering e-mail, teaching and planning, my wages come to about $9 an hour.
Faced with this situation at any other job, I’d leave with no regrets. But these conditions are outweighed by the simple fact that I’m needed. When I walk into my classroom and look into 20 pairs of eyes ready and waiting to learn, I can’t turn away. My students don’t make distinctions between a tenured faculty member and me. They’re oblivious to the internal wrangling of academia, and the heroic efforts of the unions to garner us a living wage. They’re just looking for someone to teach them. But once the semester is over, I can’t promise that I’ll see them again because I never know if I’ll be rehired. When they try to enroll in my coming classes, the registrar can’t even locate me in the computer system. I teach introductory reading and writing courses, and my background as a writer guides my pedagogy. Because I’m given free rein — I’ve been observed for 20 minutes after teaching for a year and a half — I design my curriculum around my own interest: memoir.
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CreatedSunday, August 23 2009
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Last modifiedWednesday, November 06 2013
