~a mexican sunflower in low evening light~
~~~~~
I suppose this post could be titled 'a lab during wartime' - and while I won't go into the tedious details, the last few weeks have been challenging, and filled with change.
Today was my last day with the university where I have worked for fifteen years.
So I am currently unemployed - that is, unemployed with respect to a guaranteed salary - but my lab still lives, and my three doctoral students, a master's student and the eclair-baking postdoc remain. I now have a research appointment at another local university - but it is a soft-money position that doesn't come with salary. I must generate it - for the eclair-baking postdoc and myself. We will be able to salvage about five months of salary each (actually, four months for me) over the next year from an existing grant - and other grants (with salary) are pending. One of my doctoral students will defend his dissertation in a few months, and the other two are recipients of nationally-competitive fellowships.
~~~~~
We've essentially jumped off a scientific cliff. We're optimistic that good science will soften our landing.
~~~~~
My lab still remains - at least for a year or two - after that, we'll see. It's one of those hard-to-explain academic situations, and tonight I'm too tired to explain it well. Academic institutions are ancient, competitive lands - places where new ideas are tossed around and old ideas are embraced to the end. I'm in a state where 'the good old boy network' is considered a desired management strategy instead of something to avoid.
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The most difficult thing about this last day was that a month ago I had to accept the reality that at the present time, I couldn't support/fund the lab's poet laureate. As you know - almost each week these pages are graced by a poem that Katherine chose to share with us. She first came to the lab as a volunteer, and now as she is leaving, she has two manuscripts in preparation based on her contributions to our coral project. They are excellent contributions.
We chosen to call this a 'haitus' - she is not leaving, it is merely 'life during wartime' and she will go off and work in another lab until the war is over. She is leaving us with such grace - and I am determined to find the funds to support her return.
~~~~~
This past week, Katherine told me that what the lab was experiencing right now was analogous to the story of 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas'. The Grinch thought Christmas was about the presents - the toys - and he thought, rather foolishly, that Christmas wouldn't come if he took all of the presents.
But we all know the end to this story: Christmas came anyway. Christmas wasn't about the presents at all.
~~~~~
The Microbial Lab has ten manuscripts that we hope to submit by summer's end. Four are already either in press or in revision or in review. Two more should be submitted next week, and four more - if all goes well - will be submitted by the end of summer. There's another eight to ten manucripts waiting for a fall-winter submission. My goal is to have the lab submit 20 manuscripts during a 12-month period.
That's crazy-productive - and the science is exciting.
Christmas will still come for the Microbial Lab.
Oh my, Pam! I will sure miss Katherine's poems during this transition...and keep you all in my thoughts. The science must go on - whether the good ol' boys like it or not. It's times like this I miss Ohio...
Posted by: Pat | 08 August 2009 at 07:56 AM
I wish you the best Pam. Can't imagine the uncertainty.
Posted by: Janet | 08 August 2009 at 08:03 AM
Thanks Pat. I can't write about much of it - but it's a combination of being in a program deemed 'not relevant' during wartime (aka a budget crisis) as well as one of those situations involving a person that send's one to a bookstore looking for books with 'how to deal with difficult people' in the title... Nonetheless, Katherine has a nice 'temporary' landing space (with benefits and a decent salary) and she will still be reading us poems! We've decided to have Thursday happy hours for awhile, and she'll read us a poem there instead!
Thank you Janet. There's risk involved and it's definitely uncertain - but my hope is that in the long run this will land us all in a better situation. The previous situation needed to end! Stay tuned...
Posted by: Pam | 08 August 2009 at 08:17 AM
I nearly dropped my coffee as I read your words a few moments ago. I'm so sorry! I'll save my expressions of outrage and concern for a more private medium....
Posted by: Addison Ingle | 08 August 2009 at 09:18 AM
Oh, I've enjoyed hearing your labstories and meeting all the people! I hate academia. I'm so sick of it. I hope I will never have to rely on it again. Don't get either of us started, right?
Posted by: Benjamin | 08 August 2009 at 12:04 PM
Whenever I get bored with the fact that there are no major changes in my life lately, I catch myself and remember that change can be exciting, but very stressful as well.
Your post was a reminder of this. I'm sure all will go well, and I look forward to your telling us about it in ways that always make for good reading. Do you ever contribute articles to magazines (besides research sort of things)? Or do you even have time to?
Posted by: anna maria | 08 August 2009 at 02:45 PM
Oh how awful.
OK, now I got that out of my system...yeah, it's all about change. Change is good...after the fact. During the fact it is hard and nerve wracking and sleep depriving.
I wish you the best in this see saw existance.
The air stream is such a perfect place to be now, as long as you can get though the door and not have to use the windows.
You know, I am very envious of your new living situation. I spent some of my formitive years (2-5) living and traveling with my parents in a classic 1950's Air Stream trailer. Mmmmm. I still remember the wood panneling.
Best of everything to ya,
Gavriella
Posted by: Gavriella | 08 August 2009 at 06:59 PM
Ad, thank you for your outrage... (and concern) - fortunately I've worked through alot of my anger, and now I'm mostly about 'what's next'.
Benjamin, I could complain about my particular institution for days and days... but I've never seen a place that is so resistant to real change. Unfortunately I am one of those people that loves - simply loves - academic research and graduate student mentoring - and I'm hoping that I can re-build a situation that will be more positive and supportive. In the meantime - the Microbial Lab still lives, as does it's wonderful spirit - the 'people' are still dedicated and with me (Katherine will still be reading us poems or sending them our way) - for which I'm beyond grateful. I have the same lab space for a bit, so we're keeping our heads low and we're all writing and working into the night. The science is great right now - even if the support is lacking.
Anna Maria, there are definitely elements of this that are really exciting. Things have needed to change for some time - and I think that whatever results, it will be better than the situation I was in. There will just have to be alot of sacrifice I'm afraid in the meantime. As for writing articles...the answer is mostly no - but just a month or so ago I was asked by Fine Gardening magazine to write a 500 word piece. I was thrilled! I'm not sure when it's coming out - maybe in early fall. I wouldn't mind doing that more often - it was alot of fun.
Gavriella - thanks so much, and thanks for the positive Airstream vibes. When my friends asked 'what can we do?' - I mostly say they can just look at the positive. Quite frankly, I'm loving the Airstream thing so far. I'm not at all completely set-up yet, but I'm making progress and I love the relative ease and compactness of it all - and I love looking out my 'bedroom' window at night into the trees. And yep - I've got that same wood paneling! Mine is a 1973 Overlander.
Posted by: Pam | 08 August 2009 at 07:57 PM
I am hoping for the best for you and yours. Nothing stays the same.
Posted by: Layanee | 08 August 2009 at 08:50 PM
Pam, I'm sorry for the upheaval, but encouraged by your positive attitude. I'll tell you something i've alluded to in my blog. I took a job for the first time in 15 years, back in the winter, thinking a salary and 'benefits' were advantages not to be ignored. I've since left that job and returned to freelancing because I discovered that the socalled advantages came with a bullying office manager, an owner resistant to change, and huge challenges to my health and family situation. Nothing is more important than family and health, and so I leapt out without a safety net. There's an adage that says 'Leap and the net will appear', and I believe that. Things will be all right for me and my family.
They will for you and yours, too. You're a smart and talented scientist and writer, and this sessional position will open other doors for you too. Sending you hugs and warm thoughts across the miles (and the borders).
Posted by: jodi (bloomingwriter) | 08 August 2009 at 09:17 PM
Oh, I hate to hear this news. I've been through this kind of thing before and it is horrible for morale. Everyone is on edge all the time not knowing what is going to happen. Positive thoughts and love coming your way.
Posted by: joan | 08 August 2009 at 10:27 PM
Layanee - thank you, and you're definitely right: change is one of life's main constants!
Jodi, thanks so much - for the good wishes and for sharing your own story (a bullying office manager sounds too familiar...). Best wishes to you too - and I'm happy to hear that you are finding a net too.
Joan, thank you! It's been a pretty tough few years - culminating yesterday - but I think that things will be better in the long run. There's a sense of relief in ending such a difficult situation - and I've known for a long time that I deserve to be treated better. Yes, it's tough on morale - but fortunately my research group has been just wonderful throughout all of this. And thanks for the positive thoughts!
Posted by: Pam | 08 August 2009 at 10:52 PM
Not fun I am sure, but at least you saw this coming and prepared yourself. Best wishes for your rearranging.
Posted by: Christopher C NC | 15 August 2009 at 08:30 AM
Pam, I do not have any profound words of insight, or wisdom... or even balm. But I wanted to let you know that I'm thinking about you, and wish you well--good luck with your new life in "wartime," and may it be a short and victorious war!
Posted by: Blackswampgirl Kim | 16 August 2009 at 12:35 AM