When you’re a postgraduate student, you want to learn how to teach at a university level because you have this (not yet sarcastic) notion about having a career one day. Keeping this in mind, many senior academics play a funny joke and present you with the opportunity to teach first year classes instead.
As a result of this hilarious gag, you will be required to mark first year essays. This is the kind of thing you find in first year essays (these are direct quotes, which is why they’re bold):
“Aiming to honour the airman, the poem delineates the impotence and dilemma of oneself”
“this photograph is an immensely heart-wenching image.”
“the naked girl captures one’s attention immediately after one looked at the picture. Not only because naked people always capture one’s attention, but also because the situation in which the young girl appears undressed is on the way of escaping.”
“furthermore, the picture is not a solid one”
“throughout history War as a concept has typically been defined as fighting or conflict”
“Since the first camera was invented, people have been taking pictures in many activities for various purposes with diverse forms and contexts by using different tools and technologies”
“The many gods inherit human-like qualities, such as the ability to feel emotions; they laugh, they cry.”
Also, it’s very important to remember that all first years like the same words and phrases – and make sure they use them in a way that means absolutely nothing. Here are some examples:
Anyway, after senior academics have played their funny joke on you a few times, you might get to teach a second or even third year subject, where you’ll be shocked and amazed by how few students have progressed. Or alternatively, they’ll explain kindly to you that the newer postgraduate students need to be allowed a turn at teaching, and that in academia, everyone is allowed an equal turn because everything is very egalitarian. This is also a funny joke. What they are really saying is; “you can’t hack this shit, moron, go and find a job in a bank”.
Posted in Marking
Tagged academia, arts, assessing, assessment, australia, australian university, citations, critical theory, end of semester, essays, graduate, graduate studies, marking, marking essays, philosophy, quotations, quotes, student, students, study, teaching, tutoring, undergraduate students, universities, university
The hipster film theorist of choice, Slavoj Zizek, is as painful as he is superficial.
Beware of students who quote Zizek in your classes, as they will be taken aback if you suggest there might be a lack of substance in controversial remarks for the sake of controversy.
Zizek is a forerunner in an ultra-conservative, insidious Lacanian revivalist movement, so don’t be fooled by his apparent irony. He married a model and moved to Brazil. He produces reams of work each year, and many people seem to think that the sheer volume of writing he produces must mean that he’s important, a misnomer easily disproved by the career of David Bordwell.
His work can also be found quoted in the essays of angry-young-men and serious-young-men undergraduate students.
Having managed to survive the break between academic years with minimal government assistance, out-of-hand dismissal from potential employers all over the city and sheer determination, my department decided to kick me in the festering wounds by not giving me any teaching work.
Since I had also been rejected from other universities beside my own (I felt like I would take the rejection show around the state) interdepartmental subjects were my last resort. The problem with teaching an interdepartmental subject is that the majority of the course is outside your area of expertise. This has put me in the position of teaching a subject that (many of) my students know more about than me.
Huge potential for unprecedented humiliation. Nodding, smiling, agreeing and turning questions back on students will only take you so far.
Now, the obvious solution would be to make sure you read ahead of the students and do some extra research so you have an understanding of the general academic context in which you’re teaching and know the subject matter intimately.
But that’s a lot of work, and in my situation, extremely boring. So as an alternative, I am trialing a new method, in which, using a similar technique to the one I detailed in the post on “Stealth Teaching”, I zero in on the one aspect, or even word of the lecture I did understand in an academic context, like that one (mis)use of the word “assemblage” or “affect” and build my class plan around it. So far, it’s strained and awkward, but also effective (and hardly affective).
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged academia, arts, australia, australian university, critical theory, faculty, graduate, graduate studies, philosophy, research, semester, student, students, study, teaching, tutoring, undergraduate students, universities, university
When you are a postgraduate research student, you will most likely be employed as a casual academic tutor. This means for about 5 months of the year, you will have no income (other than your scholarship if you are lucky enough to have one). The break between academic years is almost four months long (the mid-year break is almost 2 months long) so you have to entertain yourself with casual retail, administration or bar work until the semester starts again and you can resume teaching the wonderful undergraduate students.
Here are some strategies for surviving the break between academic years:
1. Government support. Some countries have some sort of government system to hand out money to poor people. In Australia, we are lucky enough to have Centrelink. This is a semi-privatised/contracted out system used to distribute government money. The problem with a privatised system, is that they strategically degrade, humiliate and undermine you for kicks. This means, that despite the high number of PhD graduates who end up in the dole queue, when you explain that you are a casual tutor between academic years to a Centrelink worker, they will invariably ask you whether you have finished high school. They may also insist you attend a Christian mission so that they may ‘assess’ you for ‘job readiness’. They see nothing wrong with canceling your payments if you express an ideological objection to being required to go to a religious organisation. Even when you cite the history of Western civilisation to illustrate that nothing good can come from anything called a ‘mission’. This means that at this time of year, around the nation, the despairing cry of “but I have a Masters degree…” can be heard from Centrelink offices far and wide.
2. Casual Retail Sales Assistant. One of the fabulous opportunities available to the graduate research student in the break between academic years is a career as a casual retail sales assistant. As an applicant for a casual retail sales assistant position, the graduate research student is required to show why they really want to work for that shop. Desperately. Passionately. Beyond all others. The application process will resemble a PhD proposal without the intellectual stimulation. Long, dull bureaucratic, and full of bullshit. If you are a successful applicant, you will then be lucky enough to be ‘trained’ for several days, or weeks, at reduced pay. ‘Training’ actually just means working, and being either ignored, or screamed at by the either a) 40-something trying to pull off 20-something gay man or b) 50-something trying to pull off steel grey hair battle axe woman. It may also include being required to pretend to work when there is nothing to do so that the overlord manager feels more secure about his or her micro-fascist dictatorship. Then there’s always the exciting treat of dealing with the general public, who are both more ignorant and more arrogant than the average undergraduate student.
3. Administration. A postgraduate research student can often find a wonderful job as an administrative assistant. These jobs are often seductively well-paid. They are a trap, and they make you want to die in a way that even the casual fury of retail can’t. It has something to do with doing a job without any purpose whatsoever. When you know that the world would be utterly unchanged whether the administration is done or not. It’s likely that other people in the office wouldn’t notice the difference.
4. Bartending. A career for the graduate research student that I have never personally pursued, but the late nights, tight tops, drugs and blatant sexual harassment perpetrated by both customers and fellow staff has always appealed. Maybe I’ll give that one a go next time around, because at least it’s probably fairly easy to get away with drinking on the job.
Just remember to document any jobs you apply for so that you can demonstrate your ‘job readiness’ to the Christian mission administering a government service as they remind you how useless and uselessly over-educated you are.
Posted in How to Survive...
Tagged academia, arts, australia, australian university, centrelink, end of semester, graduate, graduate studies, semester, student, students, undergraduate students, universities, university
As a graduate research student, you often find yourself teaching subjects that, while in your area of expertise, are so conservative and outdated that you feel bad, and perhaps even dirty for teaching them. I have an (untested, or semi-tested) way of dealing with this.
Step 1: Read the reading material on the course carefully. How can you adapt it to your own research? Trust me, there will be a way. Pick a key word or a reference from the bibliography of one of the readings, and go nuts.
Step 2: Identify students who are really enthusiastic about your area of research, especially if it’s an area that is not really taught at undergraduate level at the university. Encourage them in their pursuit of this research. Suggest they adapt essay questions to the area. Make sure it’s a fairly obscure area, but not so obscure so as not to be known. Pick something trendy, like Felix Guattari. Undergraduates love to be trendy.
Step 3: This enthusiastic army of research students, both undergraduates and postgraduates need supervisors. What to do? No one at the university you teach at has expertise in that area. They had better hire someone to teach all these young upstarts. That person had better be you, oh you who has recently finished your postgraduate studies and are looking for work. Oh, and you have a wealth of teaching experience.
This is how you stealth teach. It’s a work in progress for me, but it’s also about making sure the students I’m teaching get access to more recent research that what they otherwise would. I feel like I have an obligation to my students, and to the future of my discipline. The serious side of this is that a lot of contemporary critical theory gets ignored and dismissed by lecturers that may mean well, but are comfortable in their very specific areas that are usually pretty outdated. They will never seek to change or innovate their courses. You have to do it for them. And make sure (promise me) that you’ll never become one of them.
Posted in The Work You Don't Get Paid To Do
Tagged academia, arts, australia, australian university, critical theory, faculty, graduate, graduate studies, research, semester, student, students, study, teaching, theory, undergraduate students, universities, university, writing
There is no foolproof way of avoiding bumping into your students in the street and the more you teach, the worse it inevitably becomes. There are a few ways to minimise seeing students outside of the university, especially when you’re in compromising situations, like; drunk, eating or making out with a stranger.
Drunk or otherwise impaired is the worst way to bump into a student, especially a current student, because your memory and judgment is inhibited and you’re probably not going to remember their name. Don’t worry, if they’re a girl, their name is probably Laura, or Lauren. If they’re a boy, their name is probably Michael or John. Mumble the most appropriate sounding of these options, and hope that they’re drunk too and don’t notice. It’s also important not to choose a bar heavily frequented by undergraduates (or anyone else under 20). This is probably something you do anyway, but sometimes they sneak in unexpectedly. Therefore, avoid drinking within a 2km radius of the university you teach at. This will help you avoid the students who live on campus, who are the worst because they’re the richest and the most obtuse. The only exception to this rule is a pub near campus so scungey and full of old men that an undergraduate would never enter it. If there is one of these, make it the secret drinking destination of choice after class.
Trendy bars and cheap bars are also very dangerous, but the danger should probably be endured because what are you doing in a bar that is neither trendy nor cheap? What sort of research student are you anyway? Medieval Literature?
Avoiding students when eating out is a problem because undergraduate students either enjoy impoverished eateries for the charm, or are actually impoverished, like most graduate research students. Try to convince the nice waiter at the dumpling place that you need to sit in the darkest corner of the room if you see a student approaching, clutching at their $5 long neck of Tsing Tao. If your student still spots you, and is not content to politely wave, try not to have a mouth full of food when they approach, their clothes are probably more expensive than you can afford, so you probably don’t want to spit food on them. The fortunate part about eating somewhere extremely cheap, is that the restaurateur is all too happy to be rid of you, so they can peddle their steamed carbs to the next table of half-drunk hipsters. This means that you can excuse yourself from a conversation with your student at any time with minimal apology, and leave quickly without being notably rude.
Finally, it can be quite awkward to be found making out with someone in the dark corner of a bar by a student. (Or really, by anyone, especially if they have a camera and access to the internet.) The best way to avoid this, is not to be a such a skank that you would do that in the first place. But failing that, just make sure the person you are making out with doesn’t suddenly become one of your students. Or you may have to dob yourself in and wear the shame of double-marking.
Posted in How to Avoid...
Tagged academia, arts, australia, australian university, critical theory, drinking, graduate, graduate studies, research, semester, student, students, teaching, theory, thesis, tutoring, undergraduate students, universities, university
I have to be honest with you. I know approximately nothing about Alain Badiou. This is because Alain Badiou is almost exclusively the domain of the serious-young-man.
But don’t worry, at least he’s attractive and fun:
If your chosen theorist has shit ideas, they should at least be hot, children.
So, he’s about as un-fun as you can get, and being a Zizek contemporary, he’s a big fan of pomo bashing, bringing back ‘truth’. I’m completely unable to take critical theory seriously. Nothing important should be taken seriously. Oscar Wilde taught us that. He was way smarter.
Sorry, I don’t believe in truth and I love postmodernism, it’s so fun and whimsical and creative and ironic. You can do whatever you want with it. At its best, gives you the potential for sedition, and for positivity and political activism. Plus I’m not a fan of Plato. Something about being a girl. (Joke.)
In the most successful, and also most conservative areas of philosophy, there are only serious young men, and the only people serious young men listen to are grumpy old men. Thus metanarratives are restored and the world is doomed.
If you are not one of them and you want to be a theorist, you’ll probably spend your whole life fighting them. Kisses.
But anyway, like I said, I know shit all about him, so feel free to correct me. That doesn’t mean his acolytes don’t make my skin crawl.
Posted in Popular Theorists
Tagged academia, alain badiou, arts, australian university, critical theory, graduate, graduate studies, philosophy, research, students, theory, undergraduate students, universities, university