the academic's academic

Since returning from the UK towards the end of 2012 and then returning to full time work sometime in mid-2013 I've been mostly involved in some or other form of academic development work. Its a rather strange academic identity to hold, and now I realise that moving into such a role directly from my identity as PhD student probably contributed to some distortion of my sense of what it means to be an academic. And by academic I mostly mean (and very simplistically) someone who has a teaching,  research and thinking function at a university. Although my academic development colleagues will strongly argue that they too have a teaching, thinking and research function, much like any other academic working in the disciplines.

Since the start of the 2019 academic year about two weeks ago, I've been thrust back into academic life in the academic department. Well thrust is probably a bit dramatic, as I've yet to be assigned an actual function in my home department and have instead busied myself with my writing (thinking and research) work, primarily in the comfort of my home or some friendly writing spaces in nearby cafes. But the main realisation I've had is the sense of autonomy I now feel about what and how my role and function as an academic is defined. As an academic developer I felt straight-jacketed by the almost 'clock-in-clock-out' organisational culture, the heavy administrative demands of my role, the limited and often non-existent teaching opportunities that came my way, the lack of intellectual stimulation and limited appreciation or acknowledgment of my research particular interests. Now this might simply be a reflection on the context where I was plying my trade as academic developer, rather than the field of academic development per se. And of course, it doesn't mean that simply working in an academic department will provide any guarantee from the experiences I describe above, as I well know.

I thought the December holidays would serve as the perfect antidote to the constriction and relentless attack on my confidence and self-worth as academic that defined much of my professional experiences last year. But in these past two weeks I've experienced an amplification of these self-correcting processes, that were kick-started in December. Maybe I'm embracing even the most fluid interpretations of what 'being an academic' means, maybe I'm simply uncoupling myself from an academic identity that was no longer serving my personal and professional needs, maybe I'm just looking out for myself, protecting and nurturing my self-worth. Time will tell.

what's the problem with honesty?

I'm not really sure what's happened this week, but its been littered with dishonest(ies) and the peddling of untruths and disingenuity. Still can't fathom how I managed to attract so much of this stuff, this week. From colleagues who regularly set out to distort the truth in attempts to mask or distract from their own ineptitude - yes people in academia who cut and paste massive chunks of texts from the documents of other institutions and then pass it off as their own 'staff development plans'. To those I once called friend, who feign concern but then their words and overall intentions collapse under the weight of contradictory and disingenuous utterances. To passing acquaintances who choose to 'quote' factually incorrect information from a document we are both privy too. Maybe they think I cant read or understand of the same sentences on the same page we both have in front of us?


As a social and qualitative researcher I have been taught to judge my work (and those of others) against the degree of credibility and plausibility of the evidence presented. As a normal person in society, the importance of interacting with others from a basis of transparency and openness has always been somewhat of a priority for me, especially in my work environment. Am I always 100% honest, 100% of the time, too absolutely every person I have ever interacted with?No!

But even so; rather difficult, this week to be confronted so continually and so resolutely with such blatant deception. Is it a sign of the times in a world gone crazy with 'fake news' and the deliberate slippage between facts and belief? Or has it merely been the case of my own untruth sins catching up with me? I can't say really. Strangely, it feels for me, so incredibly sad, so draining, to have been enveloped by so many unsolicited and uninvited untruths this week. I cant help but wonder whether or not those doing all this dishonesty peddling know or care, that I know the extent of their untruths?

supporting academic writers

For the last seven or eight years I've become very intimate with myself as an academic writer and my academic writing. The details, frequently gory, have filled out the many webpages of this blog. Its been a very insular experience with lots and lots of navel gazing. Many times I've relied on a sage advice of different gurus of academic writing support and development to help me make sense of the multiple processual and identity aspects deeply implicated in the textual production process of the academy. But I've only ever used that advice in the service of my own development and at times sanity.

For the past six months or so, maybe slightly longer, I've been working on an edited collection that involves almost 20 authors. I sort of stumbled onto the task and didnt really think much of it until the 'real' writing started. I had this fantasy idea about the ideal writing project I would have loved to be part of - all warmly wrapped up in collaborative, collective and communal writing spaces. A place, whether virtual or physical, where there would always be someone to talk to about your writing. In my own academic writing journeys the thing I valued the most, and the thing I felt would help me the most was to have plenty of opportunities to talk about and share my writing. So naturally I imagined other writers would need and want the same kinds of things. I also imagined that I could support other writers through the writing journey for this project in kind, helpful ways. I imagined many things.

I've been surprised at how challenging its been to take on the multifaceted, multi-focused, overlapping and conflicting role(s) of editor, writing developer, guide and supporter. I was especially challenged when writers didnt respond to issues in the way I would respond to the same issue. For example, this communal, collective, collaborative writing space as a panacea for all ones writing woes, appears to simply be a panacea for all MY writing woes. And what people say they understand and how they then act on that understanding sometimes manifest as complete contradictions. Again that adage about not using only your own experiences of teaching to inform and direct your own teaching practice rings very true. I have a lot to learn and a long road to travel to understanding what are the ideal ways of supporting other academic writers in modes that aren't harmful or destructive. I also realise that my own academic writer identity is a fundamental component of what I bring along to my academic writing developer role(s). Sometimes I have to keep it in check and allow more space for other identities, norms and styles to operate - but isn't that also part of that communal, collective and collaborative 'nirvana' I so revere?

10 years ago

I was reminded today on Facebook, that 10 years ago I was preparing to leave South Africa to start my PhD journey. I packed up my flat (well almost) and sold practically everything and got on a plane ready for my new life, my new journey. Now 10 years later I can hardly remember the person I was in this picture - slightly tipsy, salsa queen, teacher, under 40 and open to learn and explore. Much of this blog bears witness to how those initial dream-like expectations and openness became fragmented and morphed into weariness and cynicism as my identity changed.
Strangely today I had a unrelated chat to a colleague who was conveying his observations of our mutual colleague who is currently doing his PhD. My colleague recounted how he felt his friend was descending into a sort-of deep hole of anger and despair, like all the joy was being drained from him. He no longer smiles. I nodded along and said, yes I recognise that. This PhD thing changes you forever. You can never come back. I'm not sure if I miss that person in the photo that I was. You can't miss something you struggle to remember.

rejection

It stings. For a good while it stings. Last week in the space of 24 hours I got two rejections for the same book project. The first one dispensed with any sentimentality and in two sentences said no. The second one was slightly more apologetic, offered a somewhat complimentary note on the interest value of the topic and suggested other publishers who might have the capacity to accommodate the book. Now I wonder how I could have been so naive, so childish in my expectations. My original pitch was so flawed, so amateurish in so many ways. I missed an opportunity.

Talking to a more seasoned, astute and connected Professor this morning, he confirmed what had started to dawn on me: I was too connected and attached to my project and my articulation of the project that I was unable to tailor my 'message' for the intended audience. Not a journal editor, but a publisher interested in whether or not this project would be financially viable. So I made this elaborate academic article, but failed to say, in plain, accessible English what the book was about and why people would be interested in buying it. In my wildest dreams I never thought I would think, let alone say - 'I'd prefer to write this for a journal editor'. I feel out of my depth doing a marketing pitch without the comfort and support of my carefully crafted academic argument.

Nevermind, I live to see another day and draft another book proposal.

This collection offers a view into the everyday classroom realities of SA university lecturers teaching first years. Their reflective accounts show how they attempt to improve their teaching practices and respond to the diverse academic needs of their students.

This is the two-liner I'm currently contemplating for a proposal that only wants a 40 word description of the book. Interested?

on being a black woman academic in South Africa

This is a reluctant account of how I've experienced academia in South Africa as a black woman. In the last two or three years in the wake of the #Rhodesmustfall and #FEESMUSTFALL student protests and calls for the decolonisation of the curriculum, of the university, of alles, much as been said about the black experience of academia in South Africa. I've stood on the sidelines, feeling inept and ill-equipped to respond, to contribute to the debate and discussion. I worried that I lacked the necessary or appropriate theoretical or conceptual languages of description most of the other commentators were using and that my 'story' wouldn't line up perfectly with the kind of narratives getting the most traction. The main theme of most of these narratives is that academia is a negative and toxic place for black academics and that most universities, but especially the previously liberal white institutions, make it almost impossible for black staff to reach the same levels of achievement as their white peers or that when black academics do succeed, it comes huge personal costs. While, I'm not going to dismiss the validity of this particular narrative or the experiences of individuals that might have lead to the construction of this perspective of being a black academic in SA, I think some refinement and nuance could expand the narrative and reaffirm the variation of experience. Thus while this theme might be rather prominent in our current discourse, it is but a narrative; not the only one.

What's academia like - according to Lynn

Academia is not an open, inclusive and welcoming professional environment. Rarely will you be greeted at the gates with warm, open arms by colleagues keen to offer you all the support and development opportunities you need to become the very best sociologists, physicists, historian, economists, educationalist you can be. The progression up the ladder of success is clearly demarcated and carefully policed; then further tainted with visible and invisible hierarchies of status and privileged conferred on certain institutions, departments, individual scholars. So that your hard earned PhD might not be bestowed with the same quality or legitimacy, as those of your colleagues. Then it is unlikely that your hand be held by an experienced, seasoned and gentle scholar as you attempt to 'break' into the publication world, affirming all your ideas and writing attempts and ready to offer sage advice and a shoulder to cry on when the article you pissed blood to write, is unceremoniously rejected. Also nobody will be at hand to walk you through the indecipherable and many times incomprehensible application processes for study, research or sabbatical leave or conference funding. You will find lots of networks, cliques and cabals that advance their own interests and privilege. These are defined on the basis of discipline, sub-discipline, race, gender, or any other delimiter, arbitrary or not. So just like in high school, but unlike high school, the stakes here can make or break your research career. Similarly, it is assumed that if you have a Masters or PhD, you can teach, develop a curriculum and understand and implement the necessary pedagogic strategies deemed crucial to enhance your students' learning. Again don't expect that anyone will show you the ropes.

Academia is a highly performative environment where the object of display and performance is your individual cognitive and intellectual ability - all your worth is locked down in your capacity to display and prove your knowledge and intelligence associated with your discipline. Furthermore, the manner of this display and how you represent your intellectual worth is governed by particular norms and conventions very often linked to language use specific to your discipline or sub-discipline. So it’s not enough to know, you also need to know and master how to express what you know. If you are keen to move up the ladder of success within the academy you have to show excellence in teaching and scholarship. However, in most university sectors, both locally and internationally, research trumps teaching. So in order to build your research profile and publish you will have to, especially in your early career, do most of your research and publication writing after hours, because most of your 'work hours' will be spent servicing your teaching and administrative obligations.

Unfortunately, the discrimination, prejudice, racism, sexism, ageism and meanness that pervades our society isn't blocked at the university gates. Instead it finds fertile ground and is accentuated in a professional environment built on the mostly subjective evaluation of intellectual acumen; with the one's doing the evaluation imbued with all the power. Add to the mix a healthy component of mean, egotistical people who come in all the race, gender and class shapes and sizes, and you have a setting for a perfect storm.

Insert Lynn - a black woman academic

• I've worked in higher education for more than twenty years, doing many different things. I started to lecture just over 15 years ago, but I only started to self-identify as an academic about 10 years ago when I started to engage and participate in the scholarly debates and dissemination of knowledge associated with my disciplinary field.
• I've only ever worked at a historically black institution (although now it’s part of a merged institution).
• The only position I was even held back from was for a more senior coordinating role. Even though I was more qualified (I was the only lecturer with a Masters degree) and had more experience than my colleagues, my black male boss at the time didnt think I was suitable. I was the only female working on the programme and the position was awarded to my male colleague.
• A request for conference funding was once turned down by my black male boss. I decided to pay for the conference myself.
• I was removed from my teaching allocation on a course by my black male boss, because I was deemed to be too critical of the curriculum content and pedagogic approaches used. He also refused to appoint me as course leader even though I was the only female PhD lecturer in the department, and the course I was teaching on was in my specialist area. I had to 'report' to a junior female member of staff who had a contract position.
• Male colleagues of all hues and persuasions have thought it ok to comment randomly on my appearance, clothes, weight, marital status, or disregard my title in communiques while paying careful attention to correctly apply the all important, prefix signifiers of rank, when referring to all the other male recipients.
• I have been referred to as a 'token black' by black female colleagues, who seemingly feel I'm not suitably qualified to work in my current domain, even though they don’t have any experience in the said domain.
• I have encountered black male colleagues who fail to acknowledge both my qualifications and reporting role, and constantly defer to my white male boss, even when I'm at the same meeting.
• I've seen how white research networks operate and how access to these networks are carefully controlled. Membership is bestowed to only the most suitable black academics. When you say no, you worry for your reputation and career progression.
• Friendships, authentic collegial and intellectual engagements are possible across race, class, gender and age divides. It’s hard to find, but I've flourished as an academic from the many genuine and supportive relationships I've managed to develop at my own university and with colleagues in my region and internationally. These relationships jump happily cross whatever  race, gender, class, age, cultural 'barrier' put in its way.

MPhil, UCT 2007

So what is it like to be a black woman in academia in South Africa? It depends really - on where you work, who you work with and who you work for. All these variables along with who you are as a person will coalesce and determine what it means for you. It’s a tough space, generally, and there are personal and structural factors that either compound and exacerbate that toughness or smooth it over. 

For me being an academic is almost a constant struggle against all that I am, because who I am is in so many ways at odd with the norms, conventions and predispositions of academia. The academy and its many people, unfortunately, have a low tolerance for difference – so if you don’t look, sound, behave, think or share the same values as those who have the power to define the norms and conventions – then you are more likely to have a difficult time. And often time the structures inherent in the institutional fabric will allow those in power to exercise their power in harmful ways. I’ve been on the receiving end of this kind of power (and meanness) held by both white and black men and women. In spite of this I've been moderately successful, I believe because I have, in part, being able to harness social capital gained from going to a white university and then completing my PhD in the UK. But I also have a particular personality - 'I don't take kak from kabouters' - and if I want something I find a way, legally and ethically, to get it. And I 'graf''. I do the work. Some of the challenges I face are linked to my race, ethnicity and gender, others reference the cultural capital I either possess or don’t (manifested in how I sound when I talk or my writing style). Luckily for me, these challenges, have been only that - challenges, that I constantly have to work at and navigate around. And I’ve found support in the most unlikely places and so have avoided those perfect storm conditions, that can make your life as an academic truly toxic and negative. 

This is a reluctant and incomplete account of being a black woman academic in South Africa - heavily inflected by time and place. I've tried to make sense of my own experiences and how it 'fits' into other narratives and discourses circulating at the moment. Hopefully, my story doesn't deny the other stories being told, but builds out just how discrimination and power manifests within the university. 

academic writing: a view from the sidelines

I'm on the sidelines as I watch other people write. Before I had only ever observed and reflected on my own experiences of trying to be an academic writer, as much of this blog bears testament to. I thought, naively, that my own struggles with academic writing would prepare me and allow me to be the supportive, encouraging and understanding 'coach', very optimistic and enthusiastically cheering from the sidelines. I thought I would understand and would comprehend.

This is what I brought along to my sidelined observations: Academic writing is difficult, in the beginning, especially, you think you can write but the reviewers often say you can't. Understanding and applying the 'conventions' and stylistic norms that will allow your writing to be recognised as legitimate is not as easy as 'copying' the forms and styles used by your favourite author. Sometimes doing this, simply signals now 'wrong' you got it. Writers, and especially novice writers, struggle with the huge psychological burden of knowing they don't 'come' with what they think are the necessary or expected linguistic repertoires or fluent and extensive vocabularies. And many times these very resources, especially when they are not recognised or (mis)recognised, mark these writers as 'outsiders' and becomes the source of a vicious and crippling circle of shame and fear associated with academic writing. Reviewer feedback is overwhelming, especially when its not filled with overt praise and affirmation. Its very hard to unbundle your personal and emotional investment in an argument, a sentence, a paragraph, an idea from commentary that suggests, someone else doesn't actually understand or get what you are saying.

From my own writing experiences and trying to mediate all the factors listed above as they play out in my own journey as a somewhat reluctant and self-conscious academic writer, I know that it always takes way longer to write a sentence, a paragraph, an article than you anticipate. You have to work through the reviewer comments carefully and try to see beyond your attachments. You have to seek out feedback and opportunities to talk and talk and talk some more about your work, your writing. And you have to continue to write - you have to put an immense amount of effort, energy, commitment into that act and work through all the freaking demons, weighing you down and distorting your own sense of yourself as a writer.

I'm reminded of the old adage about being a good, effective teacher: You have to grasp the limitations of your own experiences of being taught. As a teacher merely repeating what you saw your old teachers do can frequently leave you on the back foot. Even if you experienced really good teaching - simply emulating your past teachers, without trying to critically interrogate the usefulness or suitability of their practices - can severely limit your own teaching practices and your growth as a teacher. This lesson, is ringing true for me now. I'm finding that my own ongoing journey (very ongoing) as an academic writer has not equipped me as well as I would have hoped, to really understand, let alone support, others on this very same journey.

Home

Approaching Stockholm

I'm home in Cape Town. I once read someone's account of the disruption of place that modern travel creates. Often within short periods of time you can be transported from one city to another on the other side of the world without the necessary time to process both your leaving and arriving. I feel this acutely. It feels like one minute I was in green, silent, warm Uppsala, the next I'm in the bustle and hustle of Cape Town, no longer on my bike, but in my car instead. But there is also a very strange familiarity about everything. Yes I do fit in, yes it all feels, smells and tastes of something I know very intimately. Yet, part of me is also in that other place I just left and I find myself opening draws, cupboards expecting to find the things that should be inhabiting that space, except in Uppsala. Before returning to Cape Town, I read the beautifully captured experiences of the notion of Home, by Salman Rushdie. This in-between world of the immigrate at home and a stranger at the same time, in both their country of origin and their new host country.

But I settle and each day brings a new discomfort and new soothing, calm as I accept my 'new' surroundings.

I feel the sharpness of being all alone again in my home, and the togetherness, familiar sounds and accents of all the talking and catching-up with friends and family. I worry that the deep feelings of surety and contentment I experienced in Uppsala will be withered away as I have to start doing the things, that set me on the sabbatical path in the first place. Already I've had shaky starts that have left my mind racing ahead and unable to stop until the early hours of the morning. But all things settle and I now know I have a good foundation, a solid layer to offset the doubts and conflicting thoughts. Sure they will come, but I also know they will leave again - given time, they always leave, pass along.

Closing the circle (again), taming demons

Almost three weeks ago I spent time at the Open University. I went back as Visiting Fellow and to present research work completed with my OU friend and colleague JT. It was wonderful being back. While I spent most of my time in The Hub, just being on the campus in Summer brought back so many warm and familiar memories. Five years definitely gives you perspective. I always loved being within the OU space. I 'took' to the physical environment almost immediately and always enjoyed the campus - I think it had a lot to do with my comparative review of subtle values communicated through the buildings and infrastructural resources. As a PhD student at the OU we were 'showered' with the kinds of material resources and respect I hadn't until then encountered in the professional work spaces I inhabited before. At the OU I always felt welcome and materially 'cared for'. I had more trouble adapting to the intellectual and learning environment and feeling at ease there. Partly this was just because of the PhD experience and the at times 'foreign' learning space of British higher education. My blog posts during that time bear testament to those struggles and contestations. Learning involves change, and change is often hard and painful. It's just the way it is.
During my visit I had dinner with my supervisors. As I was nearing the end of my PhD we had one or two dinners together, but I would never have guessed that a gap of five years should allow new light and wonderment to enter our engagements and shift our relationship. We debated calling each other 'supervisors' and 'student' and how far away from these role differentiations and identities we are allowed to slip irrespective of time (the matter was left unresolved - the role identities, albeit so strongly framed and instructed by external forces, are too hard wired, especially in my psyche). We spoke about post-PhD career pathways, post-retirement activities, new learning joys and about life and living. We laughed a lot, eat good food, drank wine, coffee. My stories were affirmed and validated and I was offered practical and insightful advice that recognised my intellectual worth,  perspectives and the contribution my academic work does and continues to make. Five years definitely gives you perspective. Coming back to the OU as a researcher and academic rather than a student felt like I was closing the circle. More significantly, it felt like finally my PhD demons were tamed.

walking, thinking and writing

And not to forget talking to one's self. Before embarking on a writing task, and certainly all the way through the activity, my head is usually full of ideas and thoughts and I'm frequently in conversation with myself. There is often the misperception that writing is merely a pyschomotor skill. You sit down at your desk, in front of your computer and 'write'. For me I can't disconnect or untangle thinking from writing. I have to think about my writing before I write. Ordering my thoughts, ideas, argument. I always remember saying to my students, that when writing an essay you have to also allocate time for thinking. For processing your thoughts and working out how to deal with the essay question and all the readings and discussions about the readings. Thinking is as important to essay writing, as writing the essay.

my walking route, just outside the Stefan's flat

For me, walking alone can act as a trigger to stimulate my thinking, especially when I'm at the start or smack in the middle of a writing task. I don't know what it is about walking that takes me, almost automatically, to this space, but it does. I'm lucky at the moment, that I can take walks whenever I want and that I can walk in the most calming and serene settings. I haven't always had this luxury. My self-talk is probably most active when I'm out on a walk. I often wonder if the people passing me, might think that I'm 'not all-there' as I openly talk silently to myself - mouthing words, posing questions, gesturing and tracing words in the air. What do I care - this is all part of the process for me, and at the moment I'm very grateful I can experience it in its fullest expression.

fika in Sweden

This morning I said goodbye to my Uppsala University colleagues at the Division for Teaching and Learning. We had a fika. A slightly special, goodbye fika, but nonetheless very typically of what fika means in Sweden. Coffee and informal conversation.

This goodbye fika signals that my 'formal' time at Uppsala University has come to an end, and I'm on the 'home stretch'. Each day I get closer to the end of my sabbatical. But currently, I'm not thinking too much of my return to 'work'. I'm in a very good space - so far  the sabbatical has done what it was intended to do: Give me the chance to clear my head, try and focus on what I want to do next and of course, write, write and write.