EXCERPT from the Chronicle of Higher Education
Erika Favor, "When Your Peers Vote Against You"
http://chronicle.com/jobs/2003/04/2003042901c.htm
When I saw the letter from the rank-and-tenure committee at my small
university, I smiled in anticipation. Having sailed through my tenure
decision, I felt excited as I ripped open the envelope marked
"Confidential."
I had to read the enclosed letter three times.
"Although we recognize your significant accomplishments in service, your
teaching and publication record do not merit the rank of full professor ..."
As soon as the message sank in, my defenses rose against it. Accomplished
only in service? They had to be joking. Didn't being voted "Professor of the
Year" count for anything? And what about all those publications I'd hustled
to get into print?
Like many other academics who hit a bump on the promotion-and-tenure road, I
was shocked, hurt, and angry to learn that a universitywide committee of my
peers had voted against me. I was lucky: The administration overturned the
committee's decision, and my promotion went through. But before that
happened, there were painful weeks of waiting and difficult decisions about
how to handle various situations.
Most uncomfortably, I had to figure out how to live with those who had voted
"no' on my case. All five members of the committee were, and are, associate
professors -- meaning, they were voting on whether to promote me over them.
None of them are in my department or otherwise close colleagues of mine, but
because we are a small campus, I see all of these people regularly -- at
lunch, in meetings, and in the building where most of us have our offices.
As I shared my distress with colleagues at other institutions, I was amazed
to find that I was a member of a rather large club of academics whose
promotion or tenure cases ran into trouble. In the spirit of sharing what
I've learned, I offer here some tips for how to deal with a "no" vote,
should it ever happen to you.
Keep Your Mouth Shut
My division chairman, who had survived a surprise "no" vote on his own
tenure decision, advised me on this one right away. You'll be tempted to
enumerate your virtues -- the number of students advised, committees
chaired, books written, he said. You'll be even more tempted to expose the
deficiencies of the committee members in these same areas.
Don't. No one likes a poor loser, and that is how you'll be perceived no
matter how much you deserved a "yes" vote. Let others express sympathy,
support, or outrage on your behalf, and thank them for it while you yourself
keep quiet.
The corollary: Drink only with family members. I still regret one outspoken
night at the faculty's favorite local dive. Many of those who were present
will work together for years to come, and we'll work with members of the
promotion-and-tenure committee. Words spoken aloud, even with the excuse of
alcohol-lowered inhibitions, can't be taken back. I hope it's not my bitter
ones that get remembered.
Use Your Anger
If you shouldn't vent your anger, what can you do with it? An informal
survey of colleagues who survived and prospered at institutions where they
had initially gotten a "no" vote revealed something surprising: They
accomplished more in post-bad-decision years than they had previously -- and
more than their colleagues who had no trouble with the tenure process.
Why? Anger. This is where to channel it. Now more than ever, you need to see
the bigger picture and to rise above your institution's petty politics. So
try getting onto national programs and into publications that matter to you.
Apply for grants, preferably those that will take you away from the
institution for a time; think NSF and NEH. Use the rejection to push your
scholarship in a new direction, somewhere you didn't dare go before because
you thought it would put people off. If the politically correct choice
didn't work for you pre-tenure, take that as a message to follow your heart.
You'll probably do better than ever as a result.
Learned Optimism
During the weeks after my negative decision, I happened on the work of
Martin E. Seligman on "learned optimism" and was able to apply his message
to my own situation. Seligman maintains that optimists see setbacks as
temporary, nonpersonal, and nonpervasive, while pessimists see them as
permanent, personal, and pervasive. It's especially worthwhile for dejected
academics to learn the optimistic approach.
The setback of a "no" vote during the promotion process seems terribly
permanent, but in many cases, grievance boards or higher administrators may
overrule the decision. If not, reapplication is sometimes possible. Even if
a change of institution is called for, that can turn out to be a change for
the better. Remind yourself of this fact and find evidence to support it by
checking around to see the vast number of colleagues and friends who have
survived tenure trouble.
It's hard not to take a negative vote personally, especially at a small
institution. You've laid your professional life out on the line, and you
feel scorned. But remind yourself of the many factors in a committee
decision that have nothing to do with you. Every institution has political
camps; perhaps some of the committee members are in camps at odds with your
own. Maybe there was a numbers game going on: If we promote him, we can't
afford to promote her. It's also possible that some of the committee members
have personal issues, biases, or prejudices that got in the way of their
objectivity. Their ignorance is not your fault.
Finally, remind yourself that the "no" vote of a small committee doesn't
mean that everyone on your campus feels the same way. I walked around for
days thinking that no one respected my work, but when I looked at the
evidence I realized it just wasn't so. I had to make myself pay attention to
congratulatory notes I had received on recently published articles,
telephone calls asking for my opinions on curricular matters, and requests
that I represent the university at news-media events. When I did pay
attention, I began to believe that the tenure committee's opinion wasn't
universal.
It sounds trite, but you really do have to focus on what's going well in
your life. Family, friends, community involvement, and recreational
interests can remind you that there's more to life than academe. And thank
heavens for that.
Heap Burning Coals
When I initially encountered committee members who had voted against me, I
wasn't up to the biblical injunction to love my enemies. Besides, how can
you love someone who can't meet your eyes?
It was the Book of Proverbs that provided my action plan for dealing with
them: "If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give
him water to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head,
and the Lord will reward you."
I found that being extraordinarily nice to these colleagues made me feel
better. So I fetched coffee and offered chairs and asked about children and
grandchildren. Not because I'm such a great person, but because in a small
institution, one has to interact somehow.
I could have acted the way I felt -- angry -- and cemented the awkwardness
between us. Instead, cordiality eventually evolved from a challenging acting
assignment to a genuine feeling.
In the end, as a wise mentor pointed out, it's up to you how you want to
relate to your colleagues. Many an academic feud stems from a
promotion-and-tenure committee vote, but I never did admire the Hatfields
and McCoys. I don't want to put my energy into hating the committee that
voted against me. Maybe someday I'll even be a big enough person not to take
pleasure in outranking them.