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Maybe I'm not following best reading practices, but I do think someone in this thread mentioned the WPA as a concern about whether or not to switch fields. And I'm sorry but "best practices," really? What works for one teacher does not work for another. Every English PhD is qualified to teach college writing (ESL and reading require additional skills). I have found the "best practices" argument to be an excuse for bossing around vulnerable contingent instructors in a way that is fundamentally not collegial (in addition to violating their academic freedom or never granting any in the first place).

I am not standing, but you certainly are--does that box say METHOD? Re-read what I wrote: "I think every faculty member in an English department should teach it." Besides, it was never my contention that literature faculty are not implicated. My problem with rhet/comp is the WPA and the specific scholarship that underwrites that work, which I find intellectually troubling (Bousquet agrees). I take issue with the pedagogical "research" that is used to boss around qualified adjunct faculty who do not need to have their teaching managed. And that seems like a lot of it. You'll forgive me for not sobbing at that fact people teach 4/4 and make on average over 60k to do it; these same people turn around and justify that position by "training" the adjunct who is making a fraction of that salary to do the same thing. At the very least, the WPA could leave the adjunct's pedagogy to the adjunct. A terrifying thought, I know. Of course, these people--the unemployed and unethical literature PhDs-- need to be managed or else the students might not learn anything!

I have taught many first-year writers. I value this work, and it's why I think every faculty member in an English department should do it. I do not need you to tell me how to do it, nor do the other highly-qualified writers and critics who have to suffer the endless "training" the WPA imposes. You're right, the WPA exists as a function of the University's exploitation of labor. A mid-level manager, yes, but a manager nonetheless.

Granted, I am no scholar of rhetoric and composition, so I'll amend my post to exclude the historical claim: You hit the nail on the head. "Composition as Management Science" is a damning indictment of the WPA who manages adjuncts and often dictates pedagogy to them. And it seems most Rhet/Comp PhDs are groomed to be WPAs. Yes, I am envious of the placement stats, but I don't think I could stomach the work. I am burning with anticipation to see what GIF will now be used to admonish me. Is this a new pedagogical tool suggested by CCCCCCC?

You have hit the nail on the head. Bousquet's chapter on "Composition as Management Science" is a damning indictment of this subfield, which seems infatuated with writing about Foucault at the same time as it "manages" adjuncts. I know Bousquet defends his field on its merits, but it is hard for me to see how diluted cultural studies translates into helping students in the writing classroom. It was ingenious when full-time literature faculty cooked up this sub-discipline to shirk teaching first-year writing (I think all English Department faculty should teach writing). But the monster now has a life of its own that terrorizes the pages of College English and the adjuncts who must submit to the latest pedagogical trend in CCCCCC.

The assumption is that you're curious about Frankfurt and want to know more. I don't think that Kaufman is interested in his regalia; he's a passionate scholar of this material who left a law practice to teach and study it. Overwhelming? Yes. Rigorous? Yes. But there is real substance in that course: he obviously wants his students to encounter that material with an intimacy previously unknown to them. Can you imagine the amount of work that goes into leading that seminar? I think the substance of intellectual discovery and inquiry is one of the few things we have left in English. It's good to see someone enforcing it in a graduate seminar. This is why Berkeley is Berkeley.

I think this is exactly right, and what I have been struggling with: the poverty of the conversation about the problem. How can we talk about the personal consequences of this professional crisis (and I don't mean pundits on Slate)? Many people do not want to have an actual conversation about the significant lack of opportunity in our profession, the mass exploitation of labor, or really anything involving labor issues other than their own. Full-time faculty cocoon themselves and dwell on "their" problems, wants, and needs without addressing the larger professional crisis. Of course, their insulation has a fundamental flaw. The problems are all connected: the adjunct crisis, the significant drop in undergrad enrollments across the country, the lack of gainful employment for those entering the profession, and the fact that there seems to be no recovery in sight (this year's MLA job numbers in English fell back down to where they were right after the 2008 crash). I think full-time faculty at many institutions feel very threatened by these developments, especially the enrollment problem, and they have chosen to withdraw. Tenure is not a protection against termination based on financial insolvency, which could be defined as a department that no longer has enough majors to demand the current full-time staffing. It is rare to see such terminations, but what if the numbers fall even lower than they have? The undergrads aren't stupid and they've caught a whiff of the stink our profession is giving off: adjunct instruction for the same tuition $$, no job opportunities for the graduate degree, and no professors who want to address labor and why it might still be good for them to major in English in spite of the larger economy and its demands. We desperately need a language to discuss the personal despair that attends these realities. What you quoted from the French PhD is symptomatic of the impoverished conversation. He articulates his feelings well, but who will hear him and respond? There are many of us willing to listen, but how can we develop this into a conversation? I am obviously afraid to reveal my identity on this forum because it makes me vulnerable to the hostility that has surfaced here. I think many others feel the same. Talking in earnest about these problems has been coded as a kind of professional failure or flaw. I think it goes back to the Protestant ethic and the drive to trounce anyone who threatens that troubled narrative of prosperity.

Thank you for your "contributions" and for putting me in my place. I see now how condescending it was to share my thoughts and feelings about graduate school on a web forum about graduate school. It was very disrespectful to call attention to the profession in this way and to put vale my experiences over the dreams of others. Some people are dream makers; I am a dream breaker. I have learned my lesson, and your insight into Zizek was very helpful. I will be quiet now and resume my abjection. Thanks again. I've gotten so much out of your seminar.

Are you for real? This is a parody, right? You'll forgive me if I dismiss your analysis of my ignorance and distress (of which you KNOW nothing), and see your antics as the ravings of someone who didn't get into an "elite" program--a point that you return to again and again. Also, I'd say the number of jobs dropping 50% after 2008 is a dramatic change it tide. But I guess reality doesn't serve your pedantry.

Actively working to reform departmental practices of exploitation? Could you provide some specific examples? Because paying lip service to the problem and then actively benefiting from it equates to doublespeak. And I'm sorry but the rhetoric of "collaboration" is pretty close to the corporatespeak that comes straight out of the University President's office. It's the same rhetoric that you'll find at those pesky capitalistic entities that have undermined altruism. Higher education is not in a state of constant reform; it is in a state of free fall. Ask the faculty at Sweet Briar how collaborative their reform has been (not adjuncts but an example of the fundamental changes happening--not for the better). Of course, there are a handful of professors out there agitating for real reform. But the silence on adjunct exploitation has been deafening. I'm not talking about signing a letter or lamenting the fact of it. I'm talking about action in words and deeds that range from job searches to voting on budget allocations. Most full-time faculty feel very deserving of what they have, and they are totally unwilling to sacrifice any of it for the sake of adjuncts.

You will be hard-pressed to find a full-time faculty member who will admit that the exploitation happens within their institution, that they benefit from it (frequently manage it), and that the "profession" is in shambles because of it. This is not a discussion that people in academe want to have, even though the tenured are in a privileged position to have it. The conversation is often met with some of the same strange resistance that one finds on this thread where it is taken as a personal affront to point out the realities of higher education--realities documented in a growing number of monographs from *The Fall of the Faculty* to *How the University Works*. I think the faculty stills thinks they are doing god's --or the humanist's / post-humanist's-- work and that makes them unimpeachable. I find it less honest than the bottom line that informs the professions you deride.

Frankly, I don't understand the umbrage, but suit yourself. You might realize that I am intimately familiar with the realities you can only imagine. And no, you're not being led to your doom. You're being led into a "profession" that is predicated on mass exploitation, inequity, and total hypocrisy. Your "funding" is on the backs of others; you might want to know a little bit more about whose backs those are. I can safely tell you that they weren't well represented at your campus visit's reception party.

The essence of lying is in the deception, not in the words. 1) What is the actual average time to the degree? 2) What are the placement numbers (not only re-placements that are listed as unique placements) but how many people sought placement, how many years it took them to find placement, and what they did to make a living? What are they doing now? (this tracking needs to account for the 2008 collapse) 3) What happens when you run out of funding? 4) How do outcomes for students change based on their individual funding situation? For example, how do multiple-year dissertation fellowships correlate with time to the degree and placement? 5) What is the truth about a given faculty member and his/her actual reputation within the department? What was the average time to the degree for his/her students who finished the degree? How many started but did not finish? 6) How many dissertation students have had to adjunct because they ran out of funding? How much does an adjunct make? 7) What are the opportunities for funding if you're making good progress but have run out of time writing your dissertation? 8) What have been the experiences of advanced graduate students who are on the market? 9) What were the experiences of students who left the program, and why did they leave it? How many students on average leave the program? 10) What is the average reimbursement for conference travel? 11) How do full-time faculty member salaries compare to adjuncts if broken down by the number of courses taught? 12) How competitive are job candidates for postdocs? What has been the program's record with placing postdocs relative to "peer" programs? 13) What are the mechanisms in place for redressing problems with faculty members ? Is there an institutionalized system that holds faculty members accountable? 14) On average, how long does it take a given faculty member to return work, dissertation chapters, and respond to e-mails? 15) What has been implied but not promised about the support ? What could change that would dramatically affect a student's ability to complete the degree? 16) What are the teaching duties required for funding? Does this teaching allow the students to develop a pedagogy and curriculum or does it prescribe one (i.e. a writing program)? These are some of the questions that I imagine most prospective students will not ask and that most programs will not volunteer to answer.

The feelings-- the crisis-- that contingent academic laborers face is far from hyperbole. You need to face the emotional realities that attend this crisis. I started this thread to focus the attention of prospective students on how they will feel when after years of hard work, sacrifice, anticipation, anxiety, and difficulty, they are barred from finding a living wage in the professional community they have lived and worked in for years. It is a devastating blow. Nothing can prepare you for it. Many of you simply do not realize what academic labor entails because you have never done it. Maybe you have taught, but have you published? Publishing is not the same as writing term papers. It is painstaking, difficult work that benefits a number of different entities: the University press, the University, and maybe you, maybe. However, publishing no longer guarantees you anything. This is labor in its most alienated form because it results in no compensation whatsoever. In fact, many people end up paying the University for the opportunity to adjunct for them at the same time as they publish for them. You forget that dissertations have lives of their own, and when the funding runs out, you're lucky to join the adjunct pool at your graduate school. Again, graduate school seems clearcut when you're about to enter it: they will give you this, you will do that, and it will end in several years. You forget, however, the complications and difficulties that inevitably occur. Each time you adapt and meet these challenges, you become more committed to your work. In the end, if you have been successful, you are a fully fledged teacher and scholar with a book project. Now, think about facing the reality that you will have no job after applying to 150 of them. That is the reality many newly minted PhDs with publication and substantial teaching experience are facing this week. I have worked all sorts of jobs over the course of my life, including food service. It's nasty work. But I have never experienced this kind of alienation. Like I said before, I have no language to describe it. It's true: the comparison between the adjunct and the Wendy's worker isn't very helpful for negotiating these feelings. It ignores the distinct forms of hypocrisy and deception at work in higher education. It looks past the distress and panic of being Ponzied--those mornings that will follow when you awake and realize that your dream is now a nightmare. Hyperbole? Reserve judgment and report back in 7-10 years.

I don't see how it's a misappropriation. How would you suggest we talk about academic labor? Or is it you're point, which I take it to be, that we shouldn't talk about labor? We should just pick ourselves up by the bootstraps, right? Obviously, I'm not saying that migrant laborers and adjunct teachers are identical. I'm drawing an analogy that has structural similarities. Moreover, I was pointing out that your claim about merely choosing not to work a crappy job ignores a number of factors that contribute to working a crappy job. It's the same obnoxious rhetoric that is used to excuse concerns about labor at all levels from the field to the factory to the classroom. Your assumptions about privilege and labor demonstrate an ignorance for how we can find solidarity with other workers by stressing points of similarity rather than difference (but wait, you've never been an adjunct because you wouldn't stoop to that). The invisible adjunct who makes poverty wages shares far more with America's exploited than she does with a successful electrician or police officer. So before you tell me to check my privilege, why don't you recheck your sanctimony.

I am not making an argument. I am sharing some heartfelt experience (in spite of the backlash it seems to provoke from stalwart candidates). I am not looking for consolation. If anything, I want to voice the concern, the frustration, and the anger. I am not trying to quash your dreams or suggest you're not worthy of graduate school. But you should hear how it feels when you're on the other side. It's possible I could be teaching you sometime soon, and these are not things that can be openly expressed in the profession without facing a more pronounced form of the disdain you intimate. Regardless, you should know about the emotional undercurrents that are running throughout the academic community you want to enter. I wish everyone the best of luck, and I hope this has been some of use. We --the profession-- need to find a language to discuss what is happening to us.

"Postdoc" says it all. Your mentality, tone, and recourse to the ad hominem attack serves as a useful demonstration of the obtuse protestant ethic that motivates the "unethical behavior." My point--and I'll make it one last time--is that doing well in graduate school requires a massive life investment. When you do come out to confront the realities of this devastated profession, the emotions are hard to imagine beforehand. I'm not going to quibble with the misinformed claims about adjuncting. People do it because they need to eat it, and they want to advance. The blame fall squarely on the institutions that exploit the adjunct. But I suppose you also blame migrant workers for being exploited? What crap. But it's predictable, neoliberal crap. And, you're right, I'm not "victimized" by the profession; I am exploited by it. And I'm not alone.

I posted because I wish that I could go back, grab my younger self by the collar, and shake. Like I said, I'm sure all of you are aware there is a job crisis, but what I am trying to communicate is the very real and very powerful emotional investment that you will make if you get through a doctoral program. Almost half who first attend, do not make it; out of the people who do complete the degree, not all publish. To make it through any doctorate and publish is an achievement full of joys and frustrations. As you'll soon come to find out, not all faculty members are motivated in the same ways--there are helpful people and there are sadists and everything in-between (it can take time for the personality disorders to fully emerge in view). Remember, your mentors aren't accountable to anyone. Things also change within departments and institutions. The current nation-wide drop in English enrollments has been rippling through Departments, and I expect that this precipitous drop will continue to further constrict budgets. In other words, the program you're entering this fall might change radically by the time you're ready to write a dissertation. The Universities, especially the humanities programs within them, have been foundationally altered in the aftermath of 2008. This affects everything from teaching assignments to internal grant money. You might have been promised x number of years for funding, but there are unstated variables that have considerable impact on the quality of that funding. But again, my point is that I want you to think about how the rejection will feel, even if you do have a backup plan. Consider it this way: You worked hard in college, studied like hell for the MCAT, go into a top medical program, worked even harder to get through that, you did your residency-- you're in love with your work-- but you are not allowed to practice medicine at the end of it. You might have the opportunity to do part-time work as an EMT Basic. That's how it will feel to be rejected from the tenure track after working your ass off for years and years. There are any number of institutional realties that have been hidden from you. You think you're aware of them, but you are not. Foremost, the professors who have the job and life you want, well, they have it on the backs of the adjuncts who are the backbone of the institution. 75%. Consider that number nationwide. At my major research University, it's nearly 30%. You don't see right now the intensity of that abjection because you think that it will not happen to you. But what if you fall in love with medicine after all that training? You have the skill; you have the knowledge. Do you really think it's so easy to walk away? Or to ride in the ambulance--unable to push life-saving drugs because your shoulder patch says you're an EMT Basic? Perhaps the analogy seems extreme, but the scenario I'm outlining is very much how I feel. To be a scholar is to commit to living a certain way. The more work you do, the more committed you are. You haven't done that work yet, so you simply do not know how it will feel. I'm telling you that it's devastating. Of course, I wish you luck, and I hope you'll succeed. I do believe in the values behind this work. The profession, however, is a nasty thing. And "professionalization" is what they'll insist on again and again; there is no way for a doctorate to be only an intellectual experience. It's professional training for a profession that is quickly becoming extinct. I think it's totally irresponsible that many of these programs, including my own, allow first-year students to indulge their fantasies and their excitement without having them confront the truth about labor at their University. I have found that faculty members-- many of them Marxists! -- simply cannot stomach having an earnest conversation about these problems. If they do talk, it's often with the willful ignorance and reckless optimism that they would disdain in any other conversation. Marc Bousquet's How the University Works articulates some of these realities. If I had known them, I would not have done this. I'm not telling anyone here what to do. However, I warn you. When you get to the end and there's nothing for you, it will hurt all over.

Dear Prospective Students, I thought of addressing this post to my former self when I was eager to attend a PhD English program--when I was totally committed to getting in, doing well, joining the profession. But I write to you as I am. I have a new PhD, it's from a program many of you wish to join, and I have been successful publishing my work. However, after years of hard, painstaking work, I find myself living a nightmare of despair, frustration, and anger. I'll spare you the particulars, but the academic job search has been worse than any of the articles on Slate or the Chronicle can describe. It has been crushing in ways that I do not have a language to describe. You might read this as hyperbole, but you forget that this is about making a living. And the consequences that follow from not making one. I want to tell you something that you've read many other places and that you know rationally: this profession is in shambles. It's a Ponzi scheme. And it does not matter if you attend UCLA or Columbia, UNC or Duke, the opportunities for a viable career are dwindling, rapidly. Look at the academic job wiki; see the reality of what awaits after you struggle intellectually and financially for at least several years in graduate school. The problem is that these doctoral programs need you to survive. And they're looking to hook you on the illusion of academe. They offer you 30k to study! To get a PhD! To have a chance at the table to role the die for a TT job. Why not accept their offer? It's a dream! Here's what they're not telling you and what you're not seeing at your campus visit: the emotional devastation of making this investment and suffering the rejection that awaits an increasing number of you in spite of your faith in divine academic providence (there are plenty of Calvinists that comprise your cohorts). It might not be about a job for you now, but it will become a mad hunt for a job once you have the exact same credentials, publications, and experience that merits an assistant professorship. But academic hiring is not about merit--it is about fit. And fit means inside hires, BS searches, and lateral moves. I know that these seem like distant, vague frustrations. But when you find that there are only a handful of openings in your field to begin with, the reality of these searches will overwhelm you. You can dismiss this post as a bitter rant. However, I intend this as a sincere warning. I mean this from my heart, and I would not or will not amend it even if I find myself employed in the academy, managing the scheme. Believe me, I wish I could extol the virtues of this profession; I believe deeply in the importance of teaching and research. However, the profession often actively undermines these labors in favor of careerism, self-aggrandizement, and nepotism. These realities have been devastating in ways that I never anticipated and that I never thought I would be vulnerable to experiencing. Again, once you commit--which you have to do in order to produce work you can take pride in--you open yourself up to living the nightmare because escape becomes increasingly unfathomable. Take your intelligence and your drive and your curiosity and find something that will reward you with a living. You cannot make a living doing this. The people responsible for safeguarding this profession turned their backs on you long ago; don't turn towards them now.