As I went through the application process for this position, I was heartened--touched, really--by a huge outpouring of support from members of the various departments that I would supervise if I actually got the job. So many people came up to me to express their sincere appreciation to me for pursuing the job--and not just, as is often the case, because they themselves wouldn't take the job if you paid them!
(Wait, I AM getting paid for this, right? OK, good.)
No, people seemed to think I would actually be good at the job. They expressed faith in my managerial abilities, as well as a sense that I am someone who is easy to work with. And I am! Easy to work with, that is. I have always taken an approach to work--whatever job I held--that there is pretty much never a reason to get too worked up about anything. At a college, for example, no matter how crazy things get, no matter how many additional requirements get dumped on people, the fundamental job remains fairly straightforward: Teach the students. Everything else really doesn't matter all that much. Anyway, this fundamentally laconic attitude, I think, was reassuring to the people I work with: They know that I'm not going to get too stressed out, nor am I going to get terribly worked up about "the small stuff."
Absent, however, from all these expressions of faith and encouragement was any clear sense of what I would do as dean. And then I realized why: Nobody exactly understands just what it is that a dean does! I mean, we all knew that a dean oversaw the creation of the class schedule and monitored budgets. And everybody knows about the best part of the dean job: canceling classes! But there are only so many classes one can cancel. (Alas!) And then what?
For the benefit of future generations of mid-level higher-education managers, then, I will attempt to document here the various things that I do in my new decanal position. First and foremost, I learn! I have learned, for example, that the adjectival form of the word "dean" is "decanal." I have learned in my first two days on the job how to fill out forms requesting new classes, changing instructors, and canceling classes--in fact, they're all the same form!!! I have filled out forms requesting that instructors be allowed to teach more than they are supposed to be teaching! I have filled out forms requesting keys! I have filled out forms ensuring that people get paid on time! It's been an exciting start, I can tell you!
At my interview, I was asked about things like my vision for the position. I didn't mention a neverending succession of forms. So I guess I got that answer wrong.
Showing posts with label Management. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Management. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
Advice to an OLD Teacher: And Now What?
A few months ago, I went to an academic conference. One of the breakout sessions was an hour-long discussion about why so few faculty aspired to go into administration. I didn't actually attend this session, as I couldn't comprehend why anyone would need an hour to say, "Well, duh!" Because, seriously, why would anyone, given a choice, opt for a workweek filled with meetings, bureaucracy, and complaints over the much more innately appealing prospect of hanging out with students, pontificating for several hours a week on a topic that interests you, and having summers off? It's a fair question.
Nevertheless, last semester, when my own longtime dean announced her retirement, I decided to throw my hat into the ring and apply for her job. And today, I was informed that I got it. And now I am answering the obvious question: Why?
Mainly, I want a new challenge. I enjoy teaching, and I think I'm pretty good at it, but I've been doing it now, in one way or another, for over twenty years. It's time for something new. And as much as administration features some unappealing aspects--I dread the meetings that are, I fear, going to become a major part of my life for years to come--administration also, possibly, offers opportunities. If nothing else, a good administrator can make it easier for good teachers to do a good job. If nothing else, I hope that becomes part of my legacy.
But, legacies are a long way off. Tomorrow is day one. Let the adventure begin!
Nevertheless, last semester, when my own longtime dean announced her retirement, I decided to throw my hat into the ring and apply for her job. And today, I was informed that I got it. And now I am answering the obvious question: Why?
Mainly, I want a new challenge. I enjoy teaching, and I think I'm pretty good at it, but I've been doing it now, in one way or another, for over twenty years. It's time for something new. And as much as administration features some unappealing aspects--I dread the meetings that are, I fear, going to become a major part of my life for years to come--administration also, possibly, offers opportunities. If nothing else, a good administrator can make it easier for good teachers to do a good job. If nothing else, I hope that becomes part of my legacy.
But, legacies are a long way off. Tomorrow is day one. Let the adventure begin!
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
An Academic Manager's Lot Is Not a Happy One
Managers deal with complaints. It goes with the territory. I am a manager--of sorts--and I am no exception. I frequently have to handle complaints, primarily complaints lodged by students against faculty members or tutors or staff. This is probably the single most difficult part of my job--almost never satisfying and frequently exasperating.
The main problem is I am never exactly sure what I am supposed to do when a student complains--particularly if she's complaining about a faculty member. It's never cut and dried, you see. Well, almost never: I mean if a student complains that an instructor, say, stripped down to his underwear and engaged in simulated sex acts with a piece of canteloupe--well, then I can pretty safely and decisively take action, or at the very least acknowledge that, yes, the instructor acted improperly. (Unless it was a particularly attractive canteloupe, a possible mitigating factor.) But circumstances are rarely so clear.
Typically, students complain that instructors (or tutors or staff members) were "rude" to them, or disrespectful, or unfair. Students might complain that a teacher "isn't teaching them anything." The problem, of course, is that the only evidence they offer for this is that they "haven't learned anything." Sort of a chicken-egg scenario at best, you know? And academia is not retail: The customer is not always right. Seriously, just look at the test results! I'm often happy if the "customers" are "right" just enough to earn a 'C.' Kidding aside, though, most of the complaints I deal with revolve around he-said-she-said situations and/or subjective feelings. The teacher isn't clear; I deserved a higher grade; that tutor has an "attitude." What is a manager to do?
Years ago, I dealt with a student's complaint in precisely the wrong way: I tried to reason with him. I was working as an office manager in a college departmental office. A student came to see me because he wanted to file a complaint against his teacher for giving him a "bad" grade. The grade she assigned? A 'B.' I pointed out to the student that a 'B' was hardly a bad grade--that, indeed, by definition a 'B' meant that the student had done "good work." The student felt that he had done 'A' work--not because he had ever earned an 'A' on his assignments, but simply because he felt his work had been excellent. I pointed out that he could certainly protest the grade (and I should have stopped there), but that it would be difficult if not impossible to prove that his work was "excellent" as opposed to just "quite good." Things escalated, and we both ended up yelling at each other. Nothing more came of it, but--well, this was about twenty years ago, and I STILL feel somewhat stymied by the whole customer-relations/complaint-resolution aspect of the academic-manager job.
I know now how to handle complaints, of course. I do all the proper interpersonal-relations stuff: I listen, I reflect back what the speaker is saying, I try to put myself in the other person's shoes, I am calm but firm in my replies. But in the end, I almost always find myself wrestling with a fundamental question: What am I supposed to do about this? Again, if what a student describes is a violation of the law or school policies, I can follow up with the instructor--I must follow up with the instructor. But if what's being described is purely subjective? Is it worth following up on? Will this simply make the instructor (or whoever) feel defensive? Will it just make the situation worse? And of course, as an educator, I also feel obligated to help the students make sense of the experience--to look critically at their own role in the situation and to help them identify ways that they could handle future situations better. The customer is not always right, indeed.
The main problem is I am never exactly sure what I am supposed to do when a student complains--particularly if she's complaining about a faculty member. It's never cut and dried, you see. Well, almost never: I mean if a student complains that an instructor, say, stripped down to his underwear and engaged in simulated sex acts with a piece of canteloupe--well, then I can pretty safely and decisively take action, or at the very least acknowledge that, yes, the instructor acted improperly. (Unless it was a particularly attractive canteloupe, a possible mitigating factor.) But circumstances are rarely so clear.
Typically, students complain that instructors (or tutors or staff members) were "rude" to them, or disrespectful, or unfair. Students might complain that a teacher "isn't teaching them anything." The problem, of course, is that the only evidence they offer for this is that they "haven't learned anything." Sort of a chicken-egg scenario at best, you know? And academia is not retail: The customer is not always right. Seriously, just look at the test results! I'm often happy if the "customers" are "right" just enough to earn a 'C.' Kidding aside, though, most of the complaints I deal with revolve around he-said-she-said situations and/or subjective feelings. The teacher isn't clear; I deserved a higher grade; that tutor has an "attitude." What is a manager to do?
Years ago, I dealt with a student's complaint in precisely the wrong way: I tried to reason with him. I was working as an office manager in a college departmental office. A student came to see me because he wanted to file a complaint against his teacher for giving him a "bad" grade. The grade she assigned? A 'B.' I pointed out to the student that a 'B' was hardly a bad grade--that, indeed, by definition a 'B' meant that the student had done "good work." The student felt that he had done 'A' work--not because he had ever earned an 'A' on his assignments, but simply because he felt his work had been excellent. I pointed out that he could certainly protest the grade (and I should have stopped there), but that it would be difficult if not impossible to prove that his work was "excellent" as opposed to just "quite good." Things escalated, and we both ended up yelling at each other. Nothing more came of it, but--well, this was about twenty years ago, and I STILL feel somewhat stymied by the whole customer-relations/complaint-resolution aspect of the academic-manager job.
I know now how to handle complaints, of course. I do all the proper interpersonal-relations stuff: I listen, I reflect back what the speaker is saying, I try to put myself in the other person's shoes, I am calm but firm in my replies. But in the end, I almost always find myself wrestling with a fundamental question: What am I supposed to do about this? Again, if what a student describes is a violation of the law or school policies, I can follow up with the instructor--I must follow up with the instructor. But if what's being described is purely subjective? Is it worth following up on? Will this simply make the instructor (or whoever) feel defensive? Will it just make the situation worse? And of course, as an educator, I also feel obligated to help the students make sense of the experience--to look critically at their own role in the situation and to help them identify ways that they could handle future situations better. The customer is not always right, indeed.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Office Judo
Over the last few days, I've been distracted by work issues. Relatively minor issues, to be sure, which I think is part of the problem. When a true crisis hits, one can devote all one's energy to the problem at hand, knowing that full concentration is necessary and will likely lead to a solution. Conversely, petty problems suck one's energy out of all proportion to the underlying difficulty--at least to the person who considers the problem petty. To someone else, of course, the stakes may be immeasurably higher. But then the first person--the one being called upon to address the problem--must expend excess energy in not only trying to solve the problem but also in trying to figure out why the problem looms so large in this other person's worldview.
Vague, I know, but I have no desire to complicate matters further by being more specific. God knows that no one reads this blog and thus it is unlikely to be read by any of the principals involved in my occupational angst, but it would be just my luck. . . .
I was talking to my dean today. She has also found herself on the hot seat of late, essentially because she did something that, as a dean, she is supposed to do. Her problems arose because somebody took something the wrong way or felt something should have been handled differently. (This, incidentally, is basically the same trouble I'm dealing with.)
The basic annoyance stems from a feeling of injustice: I don't mind if people get mad at me for NOT doing my job; I take exceptional umbrage, though, when people get mad at me for DOING my job--particularly when, in one way or another, the people who are getting mad are not, in point of fact, doing their jobs. Then again, that's probably why they're getting upset in the first place.
Nobody likes to have their own deficiencies pointed out to them. Of course, when given such criticism, people have a choice: They can listen and acknowledge or they can deny, defend, and attempt to shift blame--middle-management judo, I think that is. I have no real interest in sparring, but what choice do I have. If someone tries to flip me, I will do my best not to be flipped.
It does make for rather exhausting days, though.
Vague, I know, but I have no desire to complicate matters further by being more specific. God knows that no one reads this blog and thus it is unlikely to be read by any of the principals involved in my occupational angst, but it would be just my luck. . . .
I was talking to my dean today. She has also found herself on the hot seat of late, essentially because she did something that, as a dean, she is supposed to do. Her problems arose because somebody took something the wrong way or felt something should have been handled differently. (This, incidentally, is basically the same trouble I'm dealing with.)
The basic annoyance stems from a feeling of injustice: I don't mind if people get mad at me for NOT doing my job; I take exceptional umbrage, though, when people get mad at me for DOING my job--particularly when, in one way or another, the people who are getting mad are not, in point of fact, doing their jobs. Then again, that's probably why they're getting upset in the first place.
Nobody likes to have their own deficiencies pointed out to them. Of course, when given such criticism, people have a choice: They can listen and acknowledge or they can deny, defend, and attempt to shift blame--middle-management judo, I think that is. I have no real interest in sparring, but what choice do I have. If someone tries to flip me, I will do my best not to be flipped.
It does make for rather exhausting days, though.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Why Has No One Thought of This?
This morning I watched Mark, our resident computer genius, dusting a keyboard. Did he envision this as one of his responsibilities when he was in . . .let's say, computer college. Then it struck me: All mid- and large-size institutions--say, those with more than 50 employees--need a "Beneath My Pay-Grade" Guy--a guy to walk around and handle all those menial tasks that aren't really anybody's responsibility, but that nevetheless need to be done. Dusting keyboards, changing lightbulbs, cleaning my office.
What the heck, let's have an "Above My Pay-Grade" position, too!
What the heck, let's have an "Above My Pay-Grade" position, too!
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
More Great Moments in Management
So this happened:
SOLIPSIST'S LACKEY (a different one): Can you come help someone in the computer lab?
SOLIPSIST: Doubtful. What's wrong?
SL: This woman can't get her floppy disk out of the computer.
S: Wow. Old school!
SL: Yeah.
S: Well, I can take a look, but if the disk is stuck in the machine, I don't know that I'll be able to get it out.
(We go into the computer lab. SL points out the computer. I go over. The student, a middle-aged woman is standing next to it, looking distraught.)
S (to student): Your disk is stuck?
STUDENT: Yes!
(I look at the computer and see the eject button is already pushed in.)
S: Oy. I think this is going to be a problem. (I push the button, just in case. No disk pops out.) Yeah, I don't know what to do about this. We're probably going to need a techie to come in and crack the tower open.
SL: Yeah, I even tried ejecting it through the desktop. . . .
S: I don't think that would work with a floppy disk, anyway.
STUDENT: Oh no!
SL: Right, but it's weird because the computer isn't even reading the disk.
S: Is it not formatted?
STUDENT: All my work's on the disk.
S: You don't have it backed up somewhere?
STUDENT: No.
(I kneel down to look more closely at the disk drive: Maybe there's something obvious that's keeping the disk from popping out. I look into the drive itself.)
S: God. . . .I can't even see the disk. . .
STUDENT: (Handing me a floppy disk.) Here.
S: I don't need another disk. . . . I'm trying to get your disk out.
STUDENT: No, this IS my disk.
S: What?
SL: What?
S: Um. . . .I don't-- THIS is the disk that you can't get out of the computer?
STUDENT: Yes.
S: OUT. OF. The computer?
STUDENT: Yes.
SL (to student): SERIOUSLY?!?
S: Can I see that disk?
STUDENT: Here.
S: So you want this OUT OF the computer?
STUDENT: Yes.
S: OK. (Handing disk back.) Here you go.
And yet, if I'm sarcastic, I'M the jerk!
SOLIPSIST'S LACKEY (a different one): Can you come help someone in the computer lab?
SOLIPSIST: Doubtful. What's wrong?
SL: This woman can't get her floppy disk out of the computer.
S: Wow. Old school!
SL: Yeah.
S: Well, I can take a look, but if the disk is stuck in the machine, I don't know that I'll be able to get it out.
(We go into the computer lab. SL points out the computer. I go over. The student, a middle-aged woman is standing next to it, looking distraught.)
S (to student): Your disk is stuck?
STUDENT: Yes!
(I look at the computer and see the eject button is already pushed in.)
S: Oy. I think this is going to be a problem. (I push the button, just in case. No disk pops out.) Yeah, I don't know what to do about this. We're probably going to need a techie to come in and crack the tower open.
SL: Yeah, I even tried ejecting it through the desktop. . . .
S: I don't think that would work with a floppy disk, anyway.
STUDENT: Oh no!
SL: Right, but it's weird because the computer isn't even reading the disk.
S: Is it not formatted?
STUDENT: All my work's on the disk.
S: You don't have it backed up somewhere?
STUDENT: No.
(I kneel down to look more closely at the disk drive: Maybe there's something obvious that's keeping the disk from popping out. I look into the drive itself.)
S: God. . . .I can't even see the disk. . .
STUDENT: (Handing me a floppy disk.) Here.
S: I don't need another disk. . . . I'm trying to get your disk out.
STUDENT: No, this IS my disk.
S: What?
SL: What?
S: Um. . . .I don't-- THIS is the disk that you can't get out of the computer?
STUDENT: Yes.
S: OUT. OF. The computer?
STUDENT: Yes.
SL (to student): SERIOUSLY?!?
S: Can I see that disk?
STUDENT: Here.
S: So you want this OUT OF the computer?
STUDENT: Yes.
S: OK. (Handing disk back.) Here you go.
And yet, if I'm sarcastic, I'M the jerk!
Monday, September 17, 2012
Great Moments in Management
SOLIPSIST'S LACKEY: We need more of those sheets where people can reserve the group-study room.
SOLIPSIST: OK, give me a minute.
L: Well, this girl wants to reserve the room now.
S: Oh, OK, well just get her information, and we'll write it on the sheet when I print some out.
L: No, I mean, she's here, and she wants to reserve the room for right now.
S: For "now"?
L: Well, three o'clock.
S: . . . It's ten after three.
L: Yeah.
S: Well, she doesn't need to reserve it. She should just go in and use it.
L: But there's somebody in there.
S: Oh. . . So. . . What does she want, exactly?
L: I guess she wants to reserve the room so that she can use it, and the people in there now have to leave. (Pause.) Yeah.
S: So, if I'm understanding correctly, she wants to reserve the room retroactively starting ten minutes ago, and have me go in and tell the people who are there now that the room was reserved before they got there?
L: I guess so.
S: I can't do that.
L: Why not?
S: Well, for one thing, I can't travel backwards in time.
L: You can't?
S: I know you're disappointed.
L: I am disappointed.
S: For another thing--
L: Can you travel forwards in time?
S: Can't everybody?
L: Oh yeah.
S: For another thing, I don't exactly think that would be the polite thing to do.
L: So. . .You want to explain this to her.
S: Not really.
L: You want me to explain this to her?
S: I want you to explain the fundamental concept of "reservation" to her.
L: I don't get paid enough!
S: Nobody does.
SOLIPSIST: OK, give me a minute.
L: Well, this girl wants to reserve the room now.
S: Oh, OK, well just get her information, and we'll write it on the sheet when I print some out.
L: No, I mean, she's here, and she wants to reserve the room for right now.
S: For "now"?
L: Well, three o'clock.
S: . . . It's ten after three.
L: Yeah.
S: Well, she doesn't need to reserve it. She should just go in and use it.
L: But there's somebody in there.
S: Oh. . . So. . . What does she want, exactly?
L: I guess she wants to reserve the room so that she can use it, and the people in there now have to leave. (Pause.) Yeah.
S: So, if I'm understanding correctly, she wants to reserve the room retroactively starting ten minutes ago, and have me go in and tell the people who are there now that the room was reserved before they got there?
L: I guess so.
S: I can't do that.
L: Why not?
S: Well, for one thing, I can't travel backwards in time.
L: You can't?
S: I know you're disappointed.
L: I am disappointed.
S: For another thing--
L: Can you travel forwards in time?
S: Can't everybody?
L: Oh yeah.
S: For another thing, I don't exactly think that would be the polite thing to do.
L: So. . .You want to explain this to her.
S: Not really.
L: You want me to explain this to her?
S: I want you to explain the fundamental concept of "reservation" to her.
L: I don't get paid enough!
S: Nobody does.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
How to Get Ahead with a Minimum of Trying
At my college, in order to use tutoring services, students need to register for one of a few different classes, depending on the subject for which they want help. The other day, an English-as-a-Second-Language (ESL) teacher came into the center where I work to remind me that the ESL tutoring class had changed from ESL107 to ESL109 (long story--not important). So, when students come into use the center, we need to make sure that they register for the proper class.
At the front desk, we have a computer where students can register for their tutoring classes--well, and any other classes, but, again, not important. On the monitor, we have stuck little labels with the names of the classes, as well as the section numbers. After the ESL teacher reminded me of the class change, I went to the front desk, where three members of my staff were doing whatever it is that they do in a mostly fruitless attempt to look busy. I explained the situation, and asked them to replace the current ESL label with a new label containing the correct information.
Two of the staffers immediately started searching for a label maker: "Do we have a label maker?" "Where's the label maker?" "What does a label maker look like?" "Have you seen the label maker?" After locating the label maker, they began a major examination of said label maker: "How do you put the label stuff in?" "Where's the label stuff?" "Do you know how to load the label stuff?" "I'm going to go look for some label stuff?"
In the fifteen minutes or so that this was going on, the third staffeer had taken a piece of paper, cut it to an appropriate size and shape, written the class information, and taped it to the monitor.
THIS is why some people get ahead in life while others . . . . Others are adorable.
At the front desk, we have a computer where students can register for their tutoring classes--well, and any other classes, but, again, not important. On the monitor, we have stuck little labels with the names of the classes, as well as the section numbers. After the ESL teacher reminded me of the class change, I went to the front desk, where three members of my staff were doing whatever it is that they do in a mostly fruitless attempt to look busy. I explained the situation, and asked them to replace the current ESL label with a new label containing the correct information.
Two of the staffers immediately started searching for a label maker: "Do we have a label maker?" "Where's the label maker?" "What does a label maker look like?" "Have you seen the label maker?" After locating the label maker, they began a major examination of said label maker: "How do you put the label stuff in?" "Where's the label stuff?" "Do you know how to load the label stuff?" "I'm going to go look for some label stuff?"
In the fifteen minutes or so that this was going on, the third staffeer had taken a piece of paper, cut it to an appropriate size and shape, written the class information, and taped it to the monitor.
THIS is why some people get ahead in life while others . . . . Others are adorable.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
In Praise of Enlightened Despotism
"I'd like to ask the panel what changes they would make if they were Hitler?"
"Well, speaking personally, I would annex the Sudetenland."
--Monty Python
At our place of employment, we have what is known as "shared governance." Under this model, all constituency groups--faculty, staff, management, students--have a voice in decision-making. It's all very squishy and northern Californian. Arguably, though, a college--or any academic institution--provides the worst possible setting for any such utopian, consensus-based model. After all, colleges are staffed by--not to put too fine a point on it--college professors.
You may have heard the old semi-joke, "Two Jews, three opinions"; Jews have nothing on college personnel. (Don't even get us started on Jewish college personnel, present Solipsist included.) Every issue, from the trivial to the mundane (which covers fully 95% of the issues debated on college campuses), calls for a lengthy discussion process, including the examination of every possible permutation of every conceivable (and many inconceivable) decisions, and often features an indeterminate comment period during which old grievances are aired and scores may be settled.
At times, we yearn for a little benevolent tyrrany. We love democracy as much as the next American (and hope to see an American democracy in our lifetime). Sometimes, though, much more could be accomplished by a simple mandate from on high that a group of well-meaning, intelligent people could implement. Of course, we'd end up arguing over implementation strategies, but at least we'd be able to start a little further along in the process.
"Well, speaking personally, I would annex the Sudetenland."
--Monty Python
At our place of employment, we have what is known as "shared governance." Under this model, all constituency groups--faculty, staff, management, students--have a voice in decision-making. It's all very squishy and northern Californian. Arguably, though, a college--or any academic institution--provides the worst possible setting for any such utopian, consensus-based model. After all, colleges are staffed by--not to put too fine a point on it--college professors.
You may have heard the old semi-joke, "Two Jews, three opinions"; Jews have nothing on college personnel. (Don't even get us started on Jewish college personnel, present Solipsist included.) Every issue, from the trivial to the mundane (which covers fully 95% of the issues debated on college campuses), calls for a lengthy discussion process, including the examination of every possible permutation of every conceivable (and many inconceivable) decisions, and often features an indeterminate comment period during which old grievances are aired and scores may be settled.
At times, we yearn for a little benevolent tyrrany. We love democracy as much as the next American (and hope to see an American democracy in our lifetime). Sometimes, though, much more could be accomplished by a simple mandate from on high that a group of well-meaning, intelligent people could implement. Of course, we'd end up arguing over implementation strategies, but at least we'd be able to start a little further along in the process.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Assets, Not Liabilities
Investors love layoffs. The way they see it, fewer employees equals a lower payroll, and a lower payroll equals higher profits.
They're right on a certain level, but this is one example of the flaws in market-based thinking, namely, that employees are seen as liabilities rather than assets. The most valuable assets of any well-run organization are the people who comprise it.
In addition to teaching, we also supervise tutorial services at our college. One of the mixed blessings of this position is that we get to work with the best and the brightest of the student body. What makes the blessing mixed is that the best and the brightest inevitably move on to bigger and better things: Nobody's life calling is to be a part-time tutor at a community college.
(Digression: On the upside, the worst and the dimmest also move on eventually. EOD)
Today we gave a glowing recommendation to one of our strongest employees, who will now be leaving us to accept a "real, grown-up" job. We take some solace (and a smidgen of pride) in the fact that she will continue to work in the field of education. But, as we have had to do numerous times in the past, and as we will (hopefully) have to do many times in the future, we sit back, smile wistfully, shake our head, and wonder where we will find a replacement.
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Since nobody took our quiz yesterday, we are disinclined to provide the answers. So there!
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A Republican will occupy Ted Kennedy's seat?!? Good job, Massachusetts!
They're right on a certain level, but this is one example of the flaws in market-based thinking, namely, that employees are seen as liabilities rather than assets. The most valuable assets of any well-run organization are the people who comprise it.
In addition to teaching, we also supervise tutorial services at our college. One of the mixed blessings of this position is that we get to work with the best and the brightest of the student body. What makes the blessing mixed is that the best and the brightest inevitably move on to bigger and better things: Nobody's life calling is to be a part-time tutor at a community college.
(Digression: On the upside, the worst and the dimmest also move on eventually. EOD)
Today we gave a glowing recommendation to one of our strongest employees, who will now be leaving us to accept a "real, grown-up" job. We take some solace (and a smidgen of pride) in the fact that she will continue to work in the field of education. But, as we have had to do numerous times in the past, and as we will (hopefully) have to do many times in the future, we sit back, smile wistfully, shake our head, and wonder where we will find a replacement.
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Since nobody took our quiz yesterday, we are disinclined to provide the answers. So there!
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A Republican will occupy Ted Kennedy's seat?!? Good job, Massachusetts!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Uneasy Lies the Head. . .
The Solipsist doesn't have much time today--he's been stuck in meetings all day, and he has to go teach in a few minutes. But he'll be damned--that's right, DAMNED--if he lets that break his uninterrupted blogging streak. So, today, just a brief post on the despair that goes along with management.
Some of you may have heard that our humble state of California is having some teensy-weensy budgetary issues. Have no fear, the Solipsist's position as Solano County Dog and Pheasant Wrangler is safe. The problem is that the Solipsist is in a managerial position, one that requires him to arrange a staffing schedule for part-timers--part-timers who look to the meager offerings that we dole out to help them make ends meet. Facing a budget reduction of approximately 75% (in actual terms), the Solipsist has had no choice but to dramatically reduce, and in some cases eliminate, his young staff's hours.
In many cases, we probably take it harder than our minions. After all, for them, this is just a part-time job, not meant as anything like a career path; and it's not as if we're firing them for egregious failure--they'll all get glowing recommendations. But it's disheartening. When one has striven over the last several years to build something up, only to see it decimated once it's reached a certain level of success. . . .
Such is life in the public sector. We struggle on.
Some of you may have heard that our humble state of California is having some teensy-weensy budgetary issues. Have no fear, the Solipsist's position as Solano County Dog and Pheasant Wrangler is safe. The problem is that the Solipsist is in a managerial position, one that requires him to arrange a staffing schedule for part-timers--part-timers who look to the meager offerings that we dole out to help them make ends meet. Facing a budget reduction of approximately 75% (in actual terms), the Solipsist has had no choice but to dramatically reduce, and in some cases eliminate, his young staff's hours.
In many cases, we probably take it harder than our minions. After all, for them, this is just a part-time job, not meant as anything like a career path; and it's not as if we're firing them for egregious failure--they'll all get glowing recommendations. But it's disheartening. When one has striven over the last several years to build something up, only to see it decimated once it's reached a certain level of success. . . .
Such is life in the public sector. We struggle on.
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