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Blog posts I share with my incoming undergraduate criminology/criminal justice students

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As the new semester begins, I often struggle with selecting content that I want my undergraduate criminology/criminal justice students to read.

In addition to a core textbook and a handful of articles and book chapters, I share five blog posts with them.

The first one, “What do gym memberships and higher education have in common?” attempts to clarify how college and university education is a unique economic transaction, especially compared to other ones most people participate in.

Second, I believe it’s important that students, and undergrads in particular, know who is providing instruction in their classes. That is why I usually share my blog post, “Who’s teaching this college course anyways, and why does it matter?”

Third, more specific to the field of criminology/criminal justice, I think that it’s helpful for undergrads to understand that not all expertise is the same. That is why I will usually share, “Who is the real criminologist and other uncomfortable questions about expertise.”

Fourth, I strongly believe that many people have challenges with their reasoning ability, and undergraduates are no different. That is why they need to know the difference between facts and opinions. For this reason, I share with them “Undergrads need to know the difference between expressing facts versus opinions.”

Finally, to round things out, to motivate them to draw the connection between what they do in the classroom and their chosen profession, I assign “Why writing well is important for criminal justice practitioners.”

Although many of the lessons I try to impart have been built upon my experience conducting research and teaching mostly in the criminology/criminal justice field, the information contained in these blogs applies to a wide variety of academic disciplines. Some of the points may also help graduate students as well.

Reading blogs is often less intimidating for students than having to face a big, thick textbook or a scholarly article, and because of the conversational tone, undergrads often understand the points that are made much quicker.

In the end, I hope that my students become critical about their role in the post-secondary education infrastructure, the people and institutions that are employed to deliver instruction, and do their best in this setting and beyond.

Photo Credit: The Focal Project
undergraduate
Concept photo of undergraduate.

Quitting Academia: Is the grass really greener on the other side?

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The COVID-19 pandemic tested (and continues to exert an impact on) numerous aspects of daily life. Nowhere has this been more profound than with lots of peoples’ relationship with their jobs, work, and careers. Many individuals discovered how much their work cared about them and vice versa.

Some workers struggled and prevailed. They were able to make the transition to remote or hybrid work and feel good about the outcome. Others had come to Jesus moments questioning their commitment to their jobs, bosses, co-workers, employers, etc. This situation led to such phenomena as quiet quitting, and the great resignation.

Academia has witnessed similar patterns. Numerous people connected to colleges and universities, from Ph.D. students quitting their programs to tenured full professors have announced that they are leaving or have left.

Their complaints centered around major themes like an overabundance of uncompensated service, toxic work environments, the publish or perish treadmill, shitty salaries, overwork, overly ideological or woke departments and scholarly fields, and the high sacrifice versus rewards of academia.

Some of the people who quit academia did this relatively silently while others announced it on social media, occasionally with rounds of applause from friends, colleagues and followers.

A handful of those who are leaving academia indicate that they are now working for nonprofits, or in the private sector, and some are more specific with respect to the job they are moving to (generally tech-related).

I get it academia is not perfect. It never was and will never be. And to succeed the average academic has to eat a lot of shit.

Unless you are independently wealthy, just won the lottery, or expect to get a big inheritance, my biggest question to those quitting academia is do you really think things will be that much better outside of academia? Most jobs and careers have significant drawbacks, including the ones people identify as their reasons for quitting academia (albeit in greater or lesser quantities).

For example, if quitting academia enables you to move to your dream location, what is the cost of living, availability of appropriate social connections, alternative job opportunities, and working conditions there? Will the new job situation really allow you to spend more time with your loved ones?

If the job you’re moving to has a considerably higher salary, will you have to work longer hours, a significantly different time zone, or even twelve months a year?

Many people want at least a middle class income. Some believe that this is attainable by working in an in demand profession. But most of those careers (e.g., architects, engineers, lawyers, etc.) also require entry level workers to work long hours (and make sacrifices) if they want to make it to the next rung to escape from the more mundane aspects of the job.

Alternatively if you want to open your own business (or work for a startup) this often requires long hours and you are faced with lots of unpredictable kinds of curve balls, not to mention the damning statistic that most businesses fail within the first year.

I’m not saying don’t quit academia, but think twice about quitting the hallowed halls of colleges and universities for the reasons you proffer, and assume that the grass is always greener on the other side.

Understanding scholarly research agendas

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Aspiring scholars are often advised and sometimes required to develop and provide a research agenda.

This written document is supposed to review and summarize a well thought out idea about the kinds of research an individual scholar performs, how they go about doing it, the question/s they answer (or want to answer), and why it’s important to pursue. There should also be a logic that undergirds the research the scholar has done and wants to continue doing.

Research agendas are frequently important components used in the hiring, promotion and awards process in academia.

Committees that review these documents use them to determine the appropriateness of the researchers’ question/s, if the candidate’s work will complement or be tangential to the expertise of the members of academic institutions, and to gauge how academically serious the scholar and their work is.

On the flip side, if a candidates’ approach to subject matter/research questions and method are lacking, they are sometimes perceived to be un or poorly informed, possibly confused, and even superficial. Likewise, moving (i.e., often pejoratively labelled “flittering”) from one idea to another and/or engaging in “opportunistic research” is frequently frowned up, and the candidate is perceived to be unserious.

These latter reactions obscures many realities.

First, when you are a junior scholar, struggling to build a vita, you need to seize as many promising research opportunities (i.e., ones that will lead to relatively quick publication) including ones that may be considered to be low hanging fruit. Sometimes these topics are in diverse fields on different subjects.

Second, many aspiring academics have (or had) nonexistent or poor mentoring. In particular their doctoral supervisor did a poor good job assisting their graduate students explore subjects and questions that may have led to good jobs, publications in respected journals, or appropriate scholarly exposure.

Third, sometimes individuals are ill-suited for a traditional career in academia where in addition to teaching and service instructors and professors are required to conduct scholarly research. This research should not simply be the preparation they do for their classes, nor papers presented at conferences, but the work that is the product of peer-review and typically published in peer-reviewed journals.

Fourth, occasionally situations, like the current COVID-19 crisis appear, and the scholar is in an ideal position (e.g., they have a capable research skills or team) to conduct research and to make a valuable contribution to the literature. They may do some research on this subject and when the well runs dry (regardless of how this is defined), move on to another subject. Many good questions, data, and colleagues to work are presented to scholars not because they are doggedly looking for them but often through the process of proximity, propinquity, and serendipity.

Fifth, just because a scholar successfully completes a dissertation and has a few articles under their belt does not mean that they are really in a position to know what their research agenda is. Research agendas frequently change over the lifespan of scholars.

Sixth, for many academics having a research agenda is a luxury, an aspirational kind of thing. These instructors or professors may work at institutions of higher learning where they have heavy teaching and service loads, and thus neither have sufficient release time, nor sabbaticals where they can devote large chunks of time to doing important research that follows a consistent theme or delves deeply into a subject. They may also have many competing realities in their lives like child and elder care responsibility which minimizes the amount of time they have to conduct scholarly research.

Most importantly, research agendas should not be confused with impact (another poorly understood concept in the field of academia). Just because a research agenda is well thought out does not mean that the scholar has impact in their field and beyond.

It’s for these reasons, that it’s important reconsider the role and place of research agendas. They should be a guide, tool, but not a straitjacket.

Photo credit:
Marc NL
A straitjacket as seen from the rear
A Posey straitjacket (medium-size) with added restraints seen from the rear.