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Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Smith on Tenure Advice
One of the interesting things about watching junior profs (or prawfs, I suppose) grow up on the blogosphere is that our subject matters are slowly changing. After years of repetitive and semi-narcissistic posts about what it's like to start teaching, how to be a junior scholar, etc., we can look forward to years of repetitive and semi-narcissistic posts about getting tenure, evaluating others' tenure bids -- and, I suppose, eventually posts about how midlife crises for academics aren't as fun as they were in the free-wheeling 70s, about lumbago and how it affects classroom performance, and about the risks of blogging as an emeritus professor.
Case in point -- and I should add that the above paragraph was meant to mock the Prawfsblawg crowd and especially myself, not him -- Gordon Smith has a fine post at the Conglomerate offering advice for young law scholars about how to write for tenure, based on his own duties filling out external tenure evaluations. They're all pretty sensible suggestions -- build a coherent scholarly identity; don't write too narrowly, but pick questions you can actually answer; quality over quantity; market yourself. At CoOp, Dan Solove emphasizes Smith's advice to write about "one new idea per article."
All good advice, to be sure. I do want to add another piece of advice to leaven Smith and Solove's suggestions. My fear is that, despite a solid decade now of legal scholars writing, for better or worse, about the value and peril of heuristics, junior scholars, who can be as insecure and hidebound as more senior legal scholars, will treat these rules of thumbs too literally. I think there is still room to remind junior scholars of this: follow your muse! That doesn't mean that you shouldn't be self-critical, or that you should fail utterly to listen to the advice of more senior scholars, whether colleagues at your school or others; maybe your muse is misleading you, and in any event it takes time and experience to learn to follow your muse effectively, and you shouldn't expect to do everything at once. But if, after really thinking about it, your best judgment tells you to break any of these "rules" -- to write about different subjects, to write something that may be a tad too ambitious, to write more than just one big piece a year, to write a piece with two or more new ideas -- then just do it.
As in writing, so in your scholarly career: it's important to learn the "rules," but it's also important that you figure out when to break them, and show enough backbone to do so. The only thing you risk losing is tenure. But, quite frankly, tenure generally isn't the biggest hurdle in the legal academy, for better or worse, so there's no point being unduly paranoid about it; and if that tenure is really going to be worth anything, you ought to be willing to risk it at least a little. I should hope that we all decided to pursue legal scholarship for a reason, and that the reason wasn't just job security; so pursue it.
Posted by Paul Horwitz on January 6, 2009 at 11:12 AM in Paul Horwitz | Permalink
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Comments
David, I think you may misunderstand what I've said, a little. I don't mean "write your bliss" in the sense of write whatever the hell you want. Of course I assume one is writing within one's discipline and meeting or exceeding the standards of that discipline; although this post doesn't discuss that at any length, I've written to that effect before, and even this post talks about the importance of being self-critical, learning from senior colleagues, amassing experience and wisdom. All of those were meant within a professional context; I'm not suggesting someone go off and write poetry. I'm suggesting that people treat Gordon's advice as useful rules of thumb but be willing to depart from that advice where they think it is necessary to follow their *professional* muse. I think that's consistent with this being a job -- especially given that it's a job that we choose to do rather than having to do it.
Posted by: paul Horwitz | Jan 8, 2009 11:21:26 PM
It's way too late for anyone to see this, but I mildly disagree with "write your bliss." At its worst, it can disengage you with the real world, and with scholarly debates. And I mean really, no one likes legal scholarship more than me ... but it is a job. I mean, I guess you could write about liberty informed by your favorite poets. But it might be more fun for you to just write poetry, and for legal scholars to read work on relevant, contemporary issues....end rant.
Posted by: David Zaring | Jan 8, 2009 6:18:53 PM
Paul, the bit about mid-life crises in the 70s is especially priceless. If you guys haven't yet, talk to colleagues between 60 and 75 for their 70s at the law school stories. At my institution, full length couches aren't allowed, because of the behavior of one faculty member in the 70s!
Posted by: Anon | Jan 7, 2009 1:48:30 AM
Paul, I think you should write an article putting together your various courage posts. Just all great stuff.
I agree with OK: best first paragraph in a blog post ever. But you should have included: discussing the need for more chairs and titles to signal status; fighting about curricular reform proposals; anecdotes about service on (gulp) university committees; and, more hopefully, how to blog while serving as an appellate judge.
Posted by: dave hoffman | Jan 6, 2009 11:18:27 PM
Paul, that 1st paragraph was priceless.
Posted by: Orin Kerr | Jan 6, 2009 8:18:14 PM
I posted something thematically similar to Paul's comments at http://madisonian.net/2009/01/05/how-to-scholar/
Posted by: Mike Madison | Jan 6, 2009 5:54:02 PM
I want to echo Paul's comments. Indeed, I think I want to super-echo them, whatever that might mean. Whenever students come to me and ask me whether they should take/go for the job they really want or instead spend three years at a firm that they don't really want to work at, I always ask them something like: "Well, do you value the next three years of your life? You only have so many." Of course, we all make sacrifices to achieve future goals, but there's got to be a limit. So, if you're just starting out and wondering what to do with the six years of your life before tenure, one thing to ask yourself is how much you value those six years. If you're going to spend six years doing something you don't necessarily want to do so that you can spend thirty doing whatever you want, at least make sure you've done an honest cost-benefit analysis before you start.
I did a lot of things pre-tenure that I suppose weren't very smart w/r/t getting tenure (and by this I mean not only things like writing in two fields rather than one and writing book reviews and short pieces because I often prefer writing those to longer ones, but also things like writing short stories and going on extended vacations in the summer with my family) and this nearly cost me. I'll probably do a separate post on this at some point, but I'll say that even during the painful year of my own tenure struggle, I did not regret my pre-tenure choices. As Paul says, the worst thing that was going to happen was that I wouldn't get tenure. So, maybe I'd get a job at some other school, or a job practicing law, or who knows what else. But I knew that I had spent six great years doing all sorts of things that I wanted to do and being the person I wanted to be and spending a lot of time with the people I wanted to spend time with, and that, to me, was worth the possible downside.
Posted by: Jay Wexler | Jan 6, 2009 11:57:51 AM
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