It is again time for the annual review for fellow faculty members. Understandably, most of us are anxious, especially since these reviews relate to tenure and promotion. Let us begin with a short, well-known prayer:

Grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change,
Give me the courage to change the things we can, And wisdom to know one from the other.

Often known as the 'Serenity prayer', it is attributed to the theologian Reinhold Niehuhr (1892-1971). One could find similar stoic sentiments in the historical figure of Marcus Aurelius (A.D. 121-180), Emperor of Rome, even though these lines never appear in Hollywood's version (The Gladiator, 2000). This example of the stoic figure brings us to the important point: it is a gladiatorial struggle to work, thrive and even survive in the academic arena.

Amidst the inevitability, what parts of this struggle can we control? The demands of teaching, especially for new faculty members, can be overwhelming. Whatever one does, it is never all one can do, but these demands are immediate: the eager learners will be there to face you on Wednesdays from 12-3pm, and then again on Thursday mornings from 8-10am, and then there are tutorial groups, but do not forget to set up activities that will be run by the TAs..

You get the general picture. The immediacy of teaching helps us to a degree. We are certainly motivated by the fatal knowledge that class will begin, whether we are ready or not, and it happens every week. Annual reviews take place but once a year and reviews for tenure and promotion only after six years (in most cases). The immediacy of teaching, then, is our salvation, but also our doom. It can lead to an imbalanced approach, which is bad for both research and, some might be surprised to hear, teaching. If we concentrate on only teaching alone-without the middle way between exasperating students and letting them coast to the finish line-we do them a disservice as well.

Many faculty members find writing impossible during the semester. Although the improbability of authoring an entire article while teaching two new modules ought to be acknowledged, there are still tasks we can achieve. For example, we can push projects forward, mature a conference paper into a chapter draft, or perhaps we can think about the architecture of larger projects and the details it would entail, should the project materialise. Much can be done if and only if we learn to partition our days. Robert Boice, in his book Advice for New Faculty Members: Nihil Nimus, recommends that we try to fit in 'brief daily sessions' for both research and teaching. It is possible to schedule several sessions during the week. For myself, I try to work in at least two sessions a week, four if possible. A 'brief daily session' does not have to be hours spent poring over research or in front of the computer; it can be no more than 20 minutes. Usually it is the beginning that is the hardest, so if one can overcome the initial anxiety and inertia, regular one- or even two-hour sessions should not be difficult to accomplish at all.

Boice's advice may sound utopian to some, and we are perhaps conditioned in graduate school to consolidating large stretches of time for binge-writing. Alternatively, mindful sessions in which we begin by asking ourselves precisely what can be accomplished under finite conditions have the benefit of training us to value the 30- and 40-minute odds-and-ends of time. Furthermore, working in discrete segments conditions us to think about the ways in which students learn in our classes and readers absorb our writings. Long, long stretches of time can be counter-productive. Whether we are working within a modest bit of time on our research or on teaching, the lesson is that we will accomplish far more if we are not wrecking ourselves with the thought issuesof how much more we could get done if we only had long stretches of time in which to do it. Sometimes long stretches of time are exactly what is needed, but that is no reason to waste the small bits.

If you wait until the term break to do your research, you would have wasted the 15 weeks in between, but, worse, you would have lost touch with your ideas. It then takes you another six weeks to get reacquainted, and by then the December break will be over. Do not do this. Learn to work steadily during the semester, even if it is at a reduced pace. That way you will maintain both flexibility and fluency of your ideas.

But, as the saying goes, grant us the patience to know when all bets are off. Sometimes one has 'one of those semesters', and cannot follow such an ideal plan. If this is the case, quote Niebuhr to yourself and make sure you get back on the horse as soon as possible: write first and ask questions later.

Brief daily sessions are especially useful for keeping the words and ideas in motion. Whether to jumpstart a more ambitious research project, to maintain the flow of ideas for shorter tasks, or to balance one's approaches to teaching and the other demands of life to avoid burn-out, working in measured sessions and alternating tasks can be a way to preserve a small portion of one's original sanity.

References

Boice, R. (2000). Advice for New Faculty Members: Nihil Nimus. Boston: Allyn and Bacon.