I taught writing at BYU from 1976 to 2013. For most of the years, I was a part-time instructor, teaching required classes like First Year Writing and Advanced Composition.
I loved my work. I loved planning the syllabus, figuring out which assignments to give and when, thinking about how the students would learn the material. I loved planning writing assignments, creating the assignment sheet and rubric, considering what the most important aspects of the assignment were, how to help the students understand and learn the required skills, and how to evaluate their progress. I did not exactly love grading papers, but I did truly care about the students and enjoyed reading their papers. It was a privilege to be let into their world and know their thoughts and experiences.
But early in my teaching career, there were aspects of the job that were not great. Around 1983, part-time instructors in the English Department were considered flexible and optional. Our purpose was simply to fill in, to teach the classes that somehow could not be taught by either full-time faculty or graduate students. Hence, we often did not receive our teaching assignments until just before the semester began, and sometimes even after the first days of teaching. We also did not have office space for meeting with students in most cases. When there was office space, it often lacked basic amenities, like trash cans and functioning chairs.
Around this time, I was asked to serve as the liaison between the part-timers and the administration. (This responsibility was also unpaid, by the way.) In this position, I heard all the horror stories from my fellow part-timers. I wondered what I could do to address the situation.
I had no experience in negotiating for better labor conditions. But, as an advanced writing teacher, I did know quite a bit about writing research papers. So I decided the place to start was with research.
My students were just starting their research, so I committed to doing every research assignment with them. I did an overview of what was available on my research question: “How are Part-time Teachers Used in University Settings?” I went to the library to search paper indexes to professional journals and read the paper copies (Yes, my children, articles were not available digitally at the time.) I collected notes on 3x5-inch note cards and sorted them into piles as I tried to determine a good structure for my report. Finally, I wrote and polished and created all the pesky footnotes. At each step, I shared my work with my class as they shared theirs with me, and, as a group, we felt the community of people doing hard work together.
Finally, on the day my students submitted their paper to me, I completed “Part-Time Faculty: Advantages, Disadvantages, and some Suggestions for Improvement.” I printed it out on our Daisy Wheel printer, stripped off the perforated pin bar edges, and submitted the stapled twenty-seven pages to the department chair. Surely, Dr. Harris was astounded to find a research paper from one of his adjunct teachers in his box, which my cover memo probably did little to explain.
The “Suggestions for Improvement” all came from my sources but included selecting part-timers early, providing adequate support services, instructional clinics, teaching awards for outstanding faculty, and creating a “corps” of permanent part-time teachers. I was too intimidated to make my own suggestions.
Within a few days, I received a call from the chair’s secretary setting up a lunch meeting with Dr. John Harris and the current coordinator of composition, Elouise Bell. It turns out that both Dr. Bell and Dr. Harris had been concerned about the situation of part-time faculty. They were aware of the recent discussion on the topic, including The Association of American Colleges’ report on “Part-Time Faculty Employment” and The Modern Language Association’s “Statement on Part-Time Faculty”—which were cited among many other sources in my paper. The academic conversation I reported on in my paper made clear that the exploitation of part-time faculty not only hurt the part-timers, it hurt the quality of instruction overall.
My little paper had brought all their concerns to the fore and they were ready to discuss ways to improve things. Within a few weeks, a new policy memo was sent to all part-timers. A “part-time corps” would be identified, a “small carefully chosen group of instructors” who could plan on teaching regularly during fall and winter semesters. These instructors could know months before what classes they would teach and be able to prepare more thoroughly. Also, office space was made available for part-timers, and we were invited to the instructional training that was provided for graduate students.
I was, frankly, amazed. I never expected my little paper would have such a result. What did I learn from the experience?
- Do what you know. I had confidence in my ability to research and write about a topic. So that is what I did.
- Knowledge is power. Because I knew the research, statistics, and national conversation on part-timers, I could discuss the concerns in a way that went beyond our local complaints. I had evidence that our concerns were not just hurting individuals, they were hurting the quality of education across the country. We were not individuals with individual problems—we were part of a national movement, part of a national concern.
- Trust in the good will of those who make decisions. When I submitted that paper to the chair, I believed he was a good man, I trusted he would make good decisions when the facts were before him, and he did.
Most of all, I learned that if you see a problem, don’t just complain. Do what you can to be part of the solution.
In addition to helping part-time instructors, you helped us full-timers as well. I still have and use a modified form of the oral presentation rubric that you introduced to me. Thanks for making such a difference in so many lives!
ReplyDeleteA story that still teaches us how to bring about change effectively. You made such a difference at BYU and I'm happy I get to read your blog because it inspires me.
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