Is it Time for Graduate Students in Humanities to Change Their Plans?
March 10, 2010 | Alicia Ostarello
Is the life of academic even realistic?
Is academia really trying to short-change humanities majors (as if the recession isn’t bad enough for jobs)? A few years ago, I might have pish-poshed the idea, but after being the embarrassingly proud holder of an MA in English for four years (I’m occasionally more proud than a soccer mom; seriously) and having little to show for it but a few odds and ends part time jobs in my field, I’m turning a new leaf.
See, academia is a crazy place. You go to school, work for an illuminating education that fulfills and excites you, and you study what you love because our generation has been told that if we simply immerse ourselves in what sparkles our minds, the rest of our lives will somehow work out.
The truth is though, if you study the humanities (English, Art, Languages, etc), you are likely to find that the best job path for you is teaching, either because you want share your passion or because your professors foster that desire within you; and if you want to burrow deeper into your topic and get a post-graduate degree, teaching college is really your best option. Unfortunately, as noted by Thomas H. Benton in The Chronicle of Higher Education, “The reality is that less than half of all doctorate holders — after nearly a decade of preparation, on average — will ever find tenure-track positions.” The likelihood of actually getting a teaching job in the humanities is slim to none. So why are professors of graduate courses still encouraging us to pursue teaching and our education?
Deciding to forge ahead into graduate education is a personal choice. I went because I love learning. And unfortunately, that might have been the worst reason to go. Benton has a lot to say on this subject:
What almost no prospective graduate students can understand is the extent to which doctoral education in the humanities socializes idealistic, naïve, and psychologically vulnerable people into a profession with a very clear set of values. It teaches them that life outside of academe means failure, which explains the large numbers of graduates who labor for decades as adjuncts, just so they can stay on the periphery of academe.
Wait, seriously? After years of bathing in the inviting fountain of knowledge, there is nothing to show for it on the other side? In fact, I’ll simply be told that I should teach strictly for the love of sharing despite the fact that I will almost certainly always be in a poor state financially and never be sure of job security?
And the thing that occurs to me is that even if I were to look for work outside of the teaching world, what chance do I have? There are just as many qualified applicants without as many fancypants pieces of paper with school crests and governor’s autographs who won’t require the salary I’d ask for; so why on earth would anyone hire me?
Benton’s suggests that there are relatively few circumstances in which he would suggest a student go on to graduate school in the humanities:
* You are independently wealthy, and you have no need to earn a living for yourself or provide for anyone else.
* You come from that small class of well-connected people in academe who will be able to find a place for you somewhere.
* You can rely on a partner to provide all of the income and benefits needed by your household.
* You are earning a credential for a position that you already hold — such as a high-school teacher — and your employer is paying for it.
Sadly, from what I can see of the real world of a humanities graduate degree, Benton is right. My writer friends all have significant sweethearts who graciously pay for rent and bills and only request a meager contribution to the money pot; my rich friends lack a concern for the end result of the education labor; and the people I do know with jobs in academia had a network of academic support so strong it was almost impossible for them not to get a job based on who they knew rather than what they knew.
In conclusion, Benton’s final statement is louder than trumpets on a clear day. “It’s hard to tell young people that universities recognize that their idealism and energy — and lack of information — are an exploitable resource.” Ouch.
Are we students nothing more than a commodity, a wad of cash in the pocket of our colleges and universities who tempt us with promises of prestige and then toss most of us aside in order to foster younger, fresher meat? It’s hard not to see myself this way: as someone who was duped into doing what I love (writing) and having to make incredible sacrifices for a paltry salary. I’m not bitter about it…yet. Then again, I still believe there is hope for me, for my work, and for my inability to not share my passions with others.
But what if, in the future, I’m still in this position? How will I feel then? How do you feel if this is your future?
Great commentary on a tough subject. It is beginning to seem like higher forms of higher education are sort of a luxury for the avid learner rather than a means to an end. Although Benton’s final statement sounds pretty true to me, prospective students are going to catch on eventually and something within the system is going to have to change.
Well does this ever make me worried – as a soon to be high school grad who has her next four years planned around writing . . . well, let’s just hope I magically get a few hundred thousand words published so I’m not left penniless after I get my degree.