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SHOUTING FROM THE BASEMENT AND RE-CONCEPTUALIZING POWER: A FEMINIST ORAL HISTORY OF CONTINGENT WOMEN FACULTY ACTIVISTS IN U.S. HIGHER EDUCATION

A dissertation submitted to the Kent State University College of Education, Health and Human Services in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

by

Rhonda Filipan

May 2014

© Copyright 2014 by Rhonda Filipan

All Rights Reserved

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A dissertation written by

Rhonda Filipan

B.A., Youngstown State University, 1987

M.A., Youngstown State University, 1989

M.L.S., Kent State University, 2000

Approved by

______, Director, Doctoral Dissertation Committee Susan Iverson

______, Program member, Doctoral Dissertation Committee Tracy Lara

______, Outside member, Doctoral Dissertation Committee Kimberly Winebrenner

Accepted by

______, Director, School of Foundations, Leadership and Shawn Fitzgerald Administration

______, Dean, College of Education, Health and Human Daniel Mahony Services

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FILIPAN, RHONDA, Ph.D. May, 2014 Foundations, Leadership and Administration

SHOUTING FROM THE BASEMENT AND RE-CONCEPTUALIZING POWER: A FEMINIST ORAL HISTORY OF CONTINGENT WOMEN FACULTY ACTIVISTS IN U.S. HIGHER EDUCATION (223 pp).

Director of Dissertation: Dr. Susan V. Iverson

This dissertation study grew out of several interrelated issues in U.S. higher education: (1) the corporatization of higher education; (2) the steady growth in the numbers of part- and full-time non-tenure-track faculty, known collectively as contingent faculty, which has resulted in a two-tiered workforce in academe; (3) the disturbingly large numbers of women who often occupy these low-paying positions, especially in what have now become feminized disciplines; and (4) the rise in a hearty activist movement among contingent faculty, including union organizing and coalition building, that seeks to transform academic labor practices. The confluence of these factors has led some contingent women faculty members into activism, often at the national level, in hopes of reforming higher education teaching conditions and altering the narrative on contingent faculty. My study, a feminist oral history, seeks to understand their experiences. The epistemological and methodological stance for this study was qualitative and feminist; the study was shaped by emancipatory paradigms to raise awareness of the hierarchies that exist to marginalize contingent faculty, especially women in the humanities. Two research questions were explored:

First, how do contingent women faculty members describe their process of becoming activists, especially the personal and contextual factors that impacted this process? , how do the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align with feminist conceptualizations of power?

To address question #1, I turned to bricolage, using qualitative coding methods in conjunction with narrative analysis and feminist methodologies. Nine themes were identified in the findings which simultaneously point to the interviewees’ development as activists and to their marginalization in academia. To answer question #2, I examined how situations described by the contingent women faculty activists line up with feminist modalities of power. Findings uncovered the deep structures in higher education institutions that contribute to a gendered and powered workplace environment for these contingent women faculty activists.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I think I was destined to become a doctoral student. After all, I was that five- year-old girl in a groovy floral pant dress and patent leather shoes who wanted nothing more than her own plastic pencil case and the chance to wait for the yellow school bus with her cousins Paul Michael and Andrew. My passion for all-things school related only intensified over the years, gaining from St. Rose Elementary School to

Ursuline High School to Youngstown State University and then to Kent State. Yes, I admit it: I was usually the “teacher’s pet,” an obsessively grade-oriented student, agonizing over the Honor Roll and later the Dean’s List, getting upset if I got an A- or B+ instead of an A. And, later, I was more fascinated by my professors with doctorate degrees than celebrities on TV. I wanted to know about them and be like them, especially the female faculty members whom I encountered. So, working on my own

Ph.D. and writing a dissertation should have been a dream come true, right?

Well, truth be told, it wasn’t. I found the dissertation process arduous, stressful, and oftentimes overwhelming. In many ways, the dissertation journey often felt inorganic, scripted, and not creative enough for me. And, I learned just how difficult it is to a busy full-time job while trying to be a doctoral student at the same time; I would never recommend it. So, although defending my dissertation and then graduating with a Ph.D. are my cross-the finish-line-get-the-gold-medal- stand-on the-Olympic- podium moments (and although I am, indeed, proud of this accomplishment) I’m even happier to have reached the end of the path. That being said, I share this degree with so

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many people in my life, all of them teammates and companions, all of whom made the trip brighter and less lonely.

As I reflect on my Ph.D. program—from coursework, to comps, to ABD stage—I think first of you, mom and dad: Ronald and Loretta Filipan. I doubt I would have completed this degree if it weren't for your constant encouragement and unconditional love. You believed in me much more than I believed in myself. How do I thank you for everything? Throughout my young life, you gave me the freedom (and afforded me the luxury) to think, to write, to read, to dream, to grow. Those were the very skills which I relied on during this long dissertation journey. And, how can I forget all the treats during this process that made life easier? Homemade foods with an ethnic twist, gifts cards to

Panera/ Starbucks/ CVS, handwritten cards of encouragement with money tucked inside, lots of new clothes (and makeup) when I didn’t have time to shop. And prayers. Always lots of prayers.

For all those when I was plagued by and self-doubt, I’ll remember sitting on my rocking chair and talking to you on the phone, Laur. As usual, you knew just what to say. And, for all the times I said "I don't really care about getting another degree," I only have to think of you, dad, and how your face and eyes lit up with pride when I told people “I'm working on my doctorate degree.” Maybe being an adult “only child” means doing things not just for yourself anymore but for your parents? If that's true, then this Ph.D. belongs as much to each of you, mom and dad, as it does to me. You pulled me along when I wanted nothing more than to give up, kind of like we used to Wooden D. (Mary Louise) when she didn't want to budge, remember? I v

love you both so much. Now, let's get out the martini shaker, plan a party, and go somewhere fun.

Next, Dr. Susan Iverson, dissertation advisor extraordinaire! Remember how afraid I was of the “F” word? I told you “I want to write about women who are part-time instructors and how they have no power, but NO this, is not a feminist study. Not at all.”

You never pushed, never imposed your ideas on me, just gave me the encouragement I needed and allowed me to discover---perhaps to my surprise---that YES, this is indeed a feminist study. I trust you, admire you, and feel so lucky to have you had as my Diss.

Director and mentor throughout this process. You are very intelligent and equally insightful. More importantly, you seemed to strike the perfect balance between providing guidance and letting me figure it out on my own. Thank you, too, for the big chunks of time you took reading and providing feedback on draft after draft, especially those rough early drafts. I also appreciate the opportunities you’ve given me to speak about my research as a guest in your classes. Perhaps I was a "high-maintenance" doc. student with my frequent, detailed e-mails? Maybe. But, I thank you for putting up with me! I hope we can transition from a doctoral student / dissertation advisor relationship into a collegial relationship. I’m ready to write that monograph.

Dr. Richard Rubin, former Kent State University Associate Provost and former

Director of the School of Library and Information Science. You were not only my supervisor but also a friend. I will never forget your encouragement and support right from the beginning when you wrote a letter of recommendation for me for the Ph.D. program. You always took time out of your busy day to come to my tiny office, asking vi

which classes I was taking that semester. And when I had semester after semester of classes in the middle of the work day, you helped me to plan my work and class schedules so that I could do justice to both my studies and my role as Academic Program

Coordinator. And later, during dissertation phase, when you had moved on to another job, you kept in touch, always asking about my progress and taking me to lunch sometimes to strategize about how to complete the dissertation . . . and sometimes to get on my case about finishing it: “The best dissertation is a done dissertation.” Isn’t that what you always said? Well, I’m done! Now it’s my turn to treat you to lunch. Thanks,

Rick, for your humor and your guidance.

Ken Hudiak: Remember when I used to leave you rambling voice mails back in

2006, asking with desperation "what do you think I should write my dissertation on?”

You’ve been a steady companion on this journey, and I thank you so very much: For all those evenings you sat on my couch (eating a pudding cup with whipped cream and almonds) and helping me to assess options about the diss., about jobs, about my post-

Ph.D. life. For being my empathic best friend and supportive partner. For making me laugh when I felt like crying. For hugs. For Dunkin’ Donuts coffee with donut holes (2).

For adventures big and small, from Stow to Santa Fe, New Mexico, all of which provided a much-needed balance to quiet hours at the computer. For accompanying me on two data collection outings in fall 2012---and for being understanding when my impending

Fall 2013 dissertation deadline hijacked our Bahamas vacation. I love you, Doggy! I'm ready for a celebratory post-diss. trip that involves an airport, you, and possibly Jaguar

Princess. Or Husky. vii

Dr. Tracy Lara and Dr. Kimberly Winebrenner: Thank you both for agreeing to serve on my dissertation committee. Your insightful written and verbal comments, especially those during the proposal defense, strengthened my study and allowed me to move forward with confidence. As you recall, we encountered some difficulties early on from KSU administration in getting Dr. Winebrenner (FT-NTT) appointed to my committee. That issue pointed to the normative structures that are so firmly in place in higher education—and it strengthened my resolve to do this study. And, thank you Dr.

Martha Lash for agreeing to serve as the EHHS graduate representative and monitor at my dissertation defense. Your kindness eased my nerves. I knew how much Felicia

Black liked you, so I felt lucky to have you be a part of my process, too.

Nana, Gramps, Grandma, Grandpa, Little Grandma, and Tha-Tha-Un: I would trade this diploma in a heartbeat if it meant you could all be here again and I could feel as carefree and as special as I felt when I was with you. I love how you each looked at me with pure adoration. I miss that warmth and that comfort. You loved the real

Rhonda: with or without a fancy degree, with or without a job. I wish you were here to see me graduate. And, Grandpa Filipan. Guess what? We finally have "a doctor in the family!”

To my Aunt Arlene Avdey and to my Aunt Audrey Korenic (my godmother):

Thank you both for your constant concern, your unending love, and your prayers.

Rhonda Sue (“Baby”) loves you, too.

To my colleagues and my friends in the School of Library and Information

Science—my SLIS family! I appreciate your interest in my dissertation progress over the viii

years. I admit that sometimes your questions about my topic or about my timeline added to my stress level . . . but all of you helped me to stay motivated.

John the Scholar and M. Renée Chardonney: For setting the tone at home and putting me in work mode and dissertation-writing mode all the time. Both of you

(especially John) are exemplary models of hard work and dedication. SSGS is a Special

Place. And, John, please ask Spicy to “kindly deliver the completed manuscript to my office.” I think you may enjoy reading it when you take a break from the ledgers.

And, finally, to the brave, smart, outspoken, feisty, and powerful women whom I had the pleasure of meeting and interviewing in Fall 2012: Mayra Besosa, Ana Maria

Fores Tamayo, Jeanette Jeneault, Maria Maisto, Marcia Newfield, and Karen Thompson.

There would not be a dissertation study if it weren’t for all of you. I appreciate your willingness to participate and to speak so candidly about your experiences as contingent faculty activists. I learned so much about academic labor justice from listening to you speak about unions, organizing efforts, shared governance, etc. and I was pleased that you stayed engaged in the study long-after the interviews had ended, reading chapter 4, providing comments and edits, and responding to e-mails. I trust we will continue to interact at professional conferences as the fight toward academic labor justice continues.

Onward!

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... iv

LIST OF FIGURES ...... xiii

LIST OF TABLES ...... xiv

CHAPTER Page

I INTRODUCTION ...... 1 The Problem ...... 2 Women as Contingent Faculty ...... 5 Contingent Faculty Activism ...... 7 Significance of Study ...... 11 Theoretical Framework ...... 12 Situating Myself ...... 13 Key Terms ...... 16 Contingent ...... 16 Activism ...... 17 Interviewee ...... 18 Pilot Study ...... 18 Conclusion ...... 19

II LITERATURE REVIEW ...... 21 Contingent Faculty Academic Literature: Overview ...... 21 Contingent Faculty Literature: Comprehensive Studies ...... 23 Contingent Faculty Literature: Theoretical Approaches ...... 25 Dual-Market Economic Theories ...... 26 Sociological Theories...... 26 Psychological and Social Psychological Theories ...... 27 Organizational Theory ...... 27 Labor Relations Theory ...... 28 Typology Studies ...... 29 Deficit Framing in Contingent Faculty Academic Literature ...... 32 Working Conditions of Contingent Faculty ...... 33 Role of Gender in Contingent Appointments ...... 34 Contingency in the Humanities and English Composition ...... 36 Student Success and Contingent Faculty ...... 37 Ancedotal Evidence about Contingency ...... 39 Contingent Faculty Compared to Full-time Faculty ...... 41 Job Satisfaction of Contingent Faculty ...... 42 x

Academic Capitalism and Contingency ...... 43 Professionalization of Contingent Faculty ...... 45 Academic Labor Justice and Contingent Faculty Activism ...... 46 Feminist Conceptualizations of Power ...... 52 Conclusion ...... 56

III METHODOLOGY ...... 58 Background ...... 58 Research Questions ...... 60 Research Design ...... 60 Theoretical Framework ...... 62 Ethical Considerations ...... 66 Protecting Human Subjects with Oral History Projects ...... 67 Sample...... 69 Oral History Interviews: Structure and Style ...... 71 Data Management ...... 76 Analytic Process: Question #1 ...... 78 Conducted an Inductive Reading ...... 81 Conducted Open Coding ...... 82 Clustered Emerging Themes into Categories of Significance ...... 83 Double Checked the Finalized Codes ...... 83 Used Narrative Analysis ...... 84 Incorporated Feminist Methodologies ...... 84 Analytic Process: Question #2 ...... 85 Conducted an Inductive Reading ...... 86 Aligned Experiences with Feminist Modalities of Power ...... 86 Conducted an Inductive Analysis ...... 87 Identified Other Aspects that Influence Modalities of Power ...... 87 Bias ...... 89 Validity ...... 91 Write Up...... 93 Member Checking ...... 94 Limitations ...... 97

IV FINDINGS ...... 99 Voice / Silence ...... 101 Invisibility ...... 107 Gender ...... 112 Credentials ...... 116 Teaching vs. Research ...... 119 Classism ...... 122 Ageism ...... 124 Economics ...... 126 xi

Family and Culture ...... 130 Modalities of Feminist Power ...... 135 “Power Over” ...... 135 “Power To” ...... 139 “Power With” ...... 141 V IMPLICATIONS ...... 150 Discussion of Findings ...... 150 Allen’s Feminist Theory of Power ...... 152 Subject Positions ...... 154 Cultural Meanings, Social Practices, Institutions ...... 157 Structures ...... 165 A New Model: Grassroots Academic Leadership ...... 168 Implication for Research ...... 172 Implications for Praxis ...... 174 Conclusion ...... 176

APPENDICES ...... 178 APPENDIX A ORAL HISTORY CONSENT FORMS ...... 179 APPENDIX B PRE-INTERVIEW E-MAIL ...... 186 APPENDIX C DEMOGRAPHIC QUESTIONNAIRE...... 188 APPENDIX D ORAL HISTORY INTERVIEW QUESTIONS / TALKING POINTS ...... 191 APPENDIX E POST-INTERVIEW E-MAIL ...... 194 APPENDIX F INTERVIEWEE BIOGRAPHIES AND PHOTOS ...... 196

REFERENCES ...... 203

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LIST OF FIGURES

Figure Page

1 Conceptual Map ...... 57

2 Subject Positions and Power Relationships ...... 155

3 Impact of Deep Structures on Organizational Culture ...... 168

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LIST OF TABLES

Table Page

1 Summary of ADJ-l Discussions ...... 2

2 Data Analysis: Analytic Process ...... 79

3 Personal and Contextual Factors Influencing Activism ...... 100

4 Feminist Conceptualizations of Power ...... 136

5 Allen’s Background Perspectives ...... 162

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CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

This past year, as I traveled to conduct interviews of contingent women faculty activists and as I wrote about my dissertation findings, I found myself having to explain my study repeatedly to those I met along the way---even those already working in academia. Most of the time, after I briefly summarized my study, people would give me a surprised “Wow!” or a skeptical “Really?” before eventually asking “So, why are there so many part-time faculty teaching college?” And, “What are these activists fighting for anyway? I was asked these questions a lot---in taxi cabs, at birthday parties, by the coffeemaker in our lunchroom at work, and whenever I found myself talking about my dissertation. As I completed the study, I also followed e-mail threads for the past year and a half on the national adjunct listserv (ADJ-l), and I made a list of points that seemed to surface repeatedly in activists’ discussions. I compiled a delineation (see Table 1) of the important issues and to provide answers to questions. Although this little chart enabled me to keep track of the ADJ-l discussion threads and to have a ready answer when I was interrogated by someone, it didn’t even begin answer what I wanted most to uncover: questions surrounding the disproportionate numbers of women holding contingent teaching positions; how these women became activists in the first place; and how they negotiate power from marginalized . Therefore, this dissertation study provided an in-depth and detailed response not only to the questions I was frequently asked by others but to my own questions which ultimately fueled the research.

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Table 1 Summary of ADJ-1 Discussions

Contingent faculty activists fight against: Contingent faculty activists fight for:  Low compensation  Unions  Wages not commensurate with  Collective bargaining rights education  Shared governance  Few/no benefits  Just cause  Lack of job security  Unemployment insurance  Last-minute hiring practices  Renewable contracts  Limited access to teaching resources,  Job protection instructional support, and technology  Professional standards  No career ladder  Equity  No professional development  New narrative on contingency  Exploitive treatment  Improved working conditions  Isolation within the campus  Elimination of a two-tier system for community faculty  Corporatization of academia

The Problem

According to the Coalition on the Academic Workforce (2012), more than 70% of the academic workforce in U.S. Higher Education teaches part time, amounting to more than 700,000 faculty members in academia. These data should be convincing enough, but other studies keep echoing the same shocking results. The American Association of

University Professors (AAUP, 2012), for instance, showed that 75% of all faculty positions in U.S. higher education were off the tenure track and 60% were part-time appointments. These data support findings of the National Study of Post-secondary

Faculty (NSOPF, 2004) and funded by the National Center for Education Statistics to provide comprehensive data on counts of faculty, current employment status (including

3 rank and tenure), workload, and more. That comprehensive study revealed that nearly

48% of all post-secondary faculty members in the United States are employed part time

(Kezar & Sam, 2010; Monks, 2009). Schuster and Finkelstein (2006) also presented some alarming statistics in their research: in particular, they revealed that most new, full-time appointments in higher education are now non-tenure track. This shift in academic labor practices, called casualization, has resulted in the substitution of part-time teaching positions for full-time teaching positions.

Kezar and Sam (2010b) provided some reasons that contingent faculty appointments are the most common in U.S. higher education. They listed several factors that have contributed to the growth of contingent faculty, especially those who teach exclusively part time (pp. 26-28):

1. Increased enrollments

2. Limited resources

3. Need to cut costs and maintain flexibility

At the start of my dissertation process, I watched a short film titled Con Job:

Stories of Adjunct and Contingent Labor (Fulwiler & Marlow, 2009) which spotlighted the growth of contingent academic labor and attempted to explain the situation. In the film, two part-time English instructors turned documentary film makers interviewed contingent faculty members. The film asserted that most U.S. universities follow a business model, outsourcing not only non-academic functions but also teaching and other academic services. The film Con Job boldly implied that poor teaching conditions equal poor learning conditions for students. The AAUP confirmed this message, stating that

4 part-time faculty members often commute between institutions, are typically paid by the course, and receive few benefits (AAUP, 2010). The AAUP refers to all faculty members who teach off the tenure track as “contingent,” including those who teach in full-time non-tenure-track positions and those who teach part-time. Contingent faculty, according to AAUP,

. . . can be known as adjuncts, postdocs, TAs, non-tenure-track faculty, clinical

faculty, part-timers, lecturers, instructors, or non-senate faculty. What they all

have in common: they serve in insecure, unsupported positions with little job

security and few protections for academic freedom. And they are the vast

majority of U.S. faculty today. (AAUP, 2010)

Furthermore, contingent faculty members are often positioned as the “other” in higher education, and contingency is articulated as nothing short of pejorative and demeaning. It is interesting to note that many terms exist to characterize contingent faculty members: Invisible faculty, “roads” scholars, freeway flyers, academic gypsies, off-track faculty, and the title of a dissertation the “not quite person” (Avery-Cooper,

2000). This “othering” of contingent faculty has created a two-tier caste system in higher education, a situation replete with stigma and shame for those in these precarious positions (Collins, 1991).

Whatever they may be called, short term consequences for those in contingent faculty positions include lower pay, lack of health benefits, instability, a heavy workload, invisibility, and what Lundy and Warme (1990) called a “horizontal and terminal” career path (p. 207). Long-term consequences are more damaging and include barriers to

5 advancement in the faculty ranks, possibly an inability to reach leadership positions within academia (Shavlik & Touchton, 1992), no opportunities to seek tenure (Finley,

2008), and confinement to a dead-end job or a “job ghetto” (Cadet, 1989, p. 17). For women in particular, equality in the academic workplace is threatened and feminization may occur when one holds a contingent .

Women as Contingent Faculty

Not only have the numbers of contingent faculty in U.S. higher education increased significantly, but statistics show that women are over-represented in the ranks of non-tenure-track positions in higher education (Kezar, 2012; Schuster & Finklestein,

2006). Moreover, although the number of women earning the Ph.D. and entering the academy has increased over the last 40 years, there has not been a similar increase in the percentage of women in senior-level leadership positions in U.S. higher education.

AAUP’s Committee “W” on the Status of Women in the Profession reported that women outnumber men in the lowest ranks of lecturer and instructor. AAUP Gender Equity

Indicators are even more shocking. Among those with full-time employment status in

U.S. higher education institutions, 60.9% are men while only 39.1% women. So, it is not surprising to learn, from that same report, that tenure status for full-time faculty men stands at 68.8% but only reaches 31.2% for full-time faculty women. Within the academy, more than half of the women holding a Ph.D. in English work as part-time or non-tenure-track faculty members as several researchers have pointed out (Miller, 1993;

Schell, 1998b; Toth, 2007).

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Bousquet (2008a), in his video, Higher Education: A Pyramid Scheme, interviewed Michelle Massé who explained the failure of the 30-year-old pipeline theory, which asserted that more female Ph.D.s would mean more women in tenured, full- professor positions; Massé explained that this has not happened. Although more women have earned Ph.D. degrees, rank and equity for women have not followed. Instead,

Massé said that a pyramid exists in which most contingent labor, both full time and part time, is absorbed by women in higher education. Thus remedial courses, language instruction, composition classes----all of which use more contingent female labor---"are seen as soft, less prestigious, hence feminized," according to Massé (Bousquet, 2008a).

These academic specialties are populated by women and Massé said these fields are seen as not integral to higher education; rather they are viewed as the "soft prelude" to the rest of a college education.

Finley (2008) concurred that there is an “academic glass ceiling:” barriers to tenure make it more difficult for women to advance to upper ranks of faculty, but

“Overrepresentation [of women] as contingent faculty has missed a key piece of the picture” (p. 5). This growing trend has led to a smaller percentage of women in tenure-track faculty positions when compared to male faculty holding tenure-track positions. Furthermore, there are fewer numbers of women occupying senior academic administration roles. As explained earlier, contingent faculty members are known by many names that reflect their transient status, but contingent women faculty, especially in

English composition, are also referred to as “sad women in the basement” (Miller, 1993), women teaching in “the kitchen” of the academy (Toth, 2007), and “mother-teachers”

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(Schellb, 1998). This negative naming creates constructs of otherness that polarize higher education faculty.

According to a study by Allan, Gordon, and Iverson (2006), “The criteria by which individuals are measured for advancement, success, and access to leadership positions continues to benefit some more than others and constrains women’s upward mobility” (p. 46 ); the researchers found that the dominance of the discourse of professionalism, supported by a discourse of masculinity, often inhibits a woman’s path to positions of leadership: “When images of women leaders are produced and supported by a discourse of professionalism with its emphasis on experience, rank, fame, and accomplishments, an inherent gender tension emerges” (p. 52). This study showed how dominant leadership discourses conceal alternative conceptions of leadership and power such as relatedness and collective , and as my study revealed, this type of dominant leadership discourse influences the definition of the ideal / legitimate faculty member in higher education----and impacts the institutional reinforcement and internalization of these definitions which then become taken for granted. Because of this situation, some contingent women faculty members have become activists and grassroots leaders, hoping to improve working conditions for contingent faculty and, ultimately, to alter the definition of faculty member.

Contingent Faculty Activism

Beginning in the mid-1990s, grassroots organizations sprang up to give voice to contingent faculty members (Kezar & Sam, 2010). Some of the more well-known organizations include the Coalition of Contingent Academic Labor (COCAL), a network

8 of grassroots activists that has been increasingly active since 1998, and The New Faculty

Majority: The National Coalition for Adjunct and Contingent Faculty (NFM). COCAL includes national and international activists who fight for improvement in the working conditions of contingent faculty and graduate students. Since 2001, COCAL has pledged to have a national Campus Equity Week every fall in which COCAL devotes itself to

“organizing teach-ins, petitions, protests, and other actions to call attention to the overuse and exploitations of contingent faculty” (Leatherman in Schell, 2000).

Obviously, contingent faculty members are sowing the seeds of change in higher education. In particular, activism seeks to change the negative perceptions by changing the rhetoric of contingency. Bousquet (2006) wrote that “One of the core techniques of contributors to an activist culture for contingent faculty is rewriting the given tropes of identity, most of which are pejorative” (p. 104). Schell (2000) gave a thorough overview of coalition building among contingent faculty in the field of English composition, explaining the organizing efforts that have been taking place at many levels: campus, municipal, state wide, and national. She explained that while campus-wide coalitions often center on very specific campus issues, like contract negotiations, municipal coalitions have a broader scope. Schell (2000) described the efforts of as successful municipal campaign which included informational picketing at public and private institutions with troublesome labor practices. Municipal coalitions tend to be in urban , including New York and Denver. Schell (2000) explained that AAUP and

COCAL encourage municipal organizing efforts, “connecting them to unionization and bringing together city-wide groups of adjuncts to defend and protect basic worker rights”

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(p. 12). Besides campus and municipal coalitions of contingent faculty, there are state- wide coalitions that have a broad base. Schell (2000) described two successful state-wide coalitions, the California Part-time Faculty Association and the Washington State Part- time Faculty Association which have led campaigns to improve the salary and benefits of part-time faculty. These coalitions have used petition drives and lobbying efforts to get contingent faculty issues on the state agenda. Schell’s article proved useful as I moved forward with my study and sought interviewees who had organizing experience at the campus, state, and national level.

Bousquet (2006) wrote “The militant strain of contingent faculty culture is having an impact on the culture of the tenured and their unions” (p 106). Contingent faculty activists are becoming change agents and grassroots leaders in higher education. Maisto

(2012), co-founder of the New Faculty Majority, says “The recognition that change is not only possible but has in fact happened or is happening---and is being led by colleagues in similarly marginal positions---can propel contingent faculty into leadership roles (p. 194).

Social media plays a role in contingent faculty activism, too; a thriving and growing online community exists for those interested in contingent faculty issues and activism including Adjunctnation.com and the ADJ-l listserv among others.

Clearly, contingent faculty are building alliances strategically and taking action toward academic labor justice. It is a national and international movement that has moved from anger about contingent faculty working conditions to action. The contingent faculty activist movement has much in common with other social change movements, especially those for low-wage workers. In both case, workers and contingent faculty in

10 higher education are railing against capitalistic culture, their non-normative status, and the dominant discourse which keeps them stuck in place. In higher education, current practices reinforce the privilege of those in power, but contingent faculty activists are contesting that power and re-conceptualizing it so that it is power held not by a few but is power shared by many collective actors.

Not surprising, many of these activists working for change---like those in my study---are contingent women faculty members who are proving they are definitely not

“sad women in the basement” (Miller, 1993). They are using their voices and collective power to create alternative stories to the prevailing narrative. In the process, contingent women faculty activists are authoring a new narrative about contingency, one that subverts the dominant narrative about the voiceless, exploited contingent faculty member.

Over the years, contingent faculty activists have organized events to bring together those interested in discussing the changing face of academic labor. For example, in November 1997, The Conference on the Growing use of Part-time / Adjunct Faculty took place in Washington, D.C. to address the dramatic changes in the academic workforce. And, in January 2012, the New Faculty Majority convened a group of activists, students, higher education administrators, and full-time and contingent faculty in Washington, D.C. to explore this issue in a day filled with speakers and break-out sessions at the New Faculty Majority Summit. I attended the D.C. Summit, and my dissertation research is a continuation of conversation strands that were started there.

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Significance of Study

The significance of my dissertation study is twofold.

1. There is a lack of research on the experiences of the contingent academic

workforce. The AAUP said that these data are needed, adding that those that do

exist are mostly national averages that tell us little about the actual experiences of

contingent faculty (AAUP, 2010). Kezar and Sam (2010a) argued that “One of

the major deficits identified in empirical research is that we have little research

studying the experiences and voices of non-tenure-track faculty themselves” (p.

67). My study, which spotlighted the voices and experiences of contingent

women faculty activists, fills this important gap. Because contingent faculty

teach the majority of students in institutions of higher education, understanding

their experiences (including what has led them to activism) also helps us

understand the teaching and learning environments to which students are exposed.

2. The studies of contingent faculty are currently under theorized. Kezar and Sam

(2010a) wrote that “non-tenure-track faculty as a phenomenon is undertheorized

and that too few theoretical lenses have been applied to understand this broad and

important landscape” (p. 37). Further, they asserted that “…the topic of non-

tenure-track faculty has been understudied and that theories applied are narrow in

scope” (p. vii). My study responded to this criticism by drawing on feminist

theories in general and feminist conceptualizations of power (Allen, 1999) in

particular to make sense of contingent women faculty members’ experiences in

the academy.

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Theoretical Framework

This study relied upon a feminist theoretical approach. Feminist research, a strand of critical research that analyzes women’s experiences, deals with oppression, exploitation, subjugation, and gender differences. Furthermore, it examines power structures and gives a voice to those who have been silenced. Many schools of feminist thought exist, and each one shines a on the oppression of women. Within feminist scholarship, there is little homogenous thinking. Scholz (2010) said “Feminism is and ought to be understood as plural, multiple, and varied” (p. 8). Some of these schools of thought include liberal feminism, Marxist feminism, radical feminism, social feminism, ecofeminism, and postmodern and post-structural feminism (Tong, 2009). For the purpose of my research, I turned to Allen (1999) and her feminist conceptualizations of power to understand how the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align with the various modalities of power. I entered my study curious to know how these women became activists and how they are negotiating power to dismantle a system that continues to exploit contingent faculty.

A feminist epistemology means that women's lived experiences are genuine sources of knowledge (Campbell & Wasco, 2000, p. 775). Kirsch (1999) explained that research studies in the past were conducted on women but were not studies for women.

Thompson (2000), in The Voice of the Past: Oral History, now in its 3rd edition, observed, there is always a tendency for projects to record more men than women. This, he explained, is partly because women tend to be more diffident and less often believe

13 that their own memories might be of interest. It is also because men are more often recommended as informants by others (p. 213).

However, my oral history focused solely on women’s stories, and I drew upon feminist theory to uncover the role of power in the lives of contingent faculty activists.

As my findings showed, women’s voices in higher education have sometimes been discounted or muted; this is part of what drove my commitment to collecting and disseminating the stories of contingent women faculty activists. Women have played an important role in the academic labor movement, and I wanted my study to continue to amplify women’s activist role in this arena. Therefore, my dissertation study was a feminist oral history designed to document and analyze the experiences of contingent women faculty activists in U.S. higher education; their voices were the most important part of my research, and it was interesting to see how the interviewees moved from outrage to resistance to collective organizing.

This feminist oral history drew out the catalysts---those particular moments---that led these contingent women faculty into activism. It revealed obstacles as well as achievements. More importantly, the study uncovered how these activists are fighting against dominant discourses in higher education, using collective power at the grassroots level, to yield change.

Situating Myself

Consistent with the tenets of feminist research (Reinharz 1992), I believe that research is subjective, that multiple realities exist, and that I was an instrument in my dissertation study. As a doctoral student interested in and passionate about contingent

14 women faculty, I have been asked many times by university administrators, by other graduate students, and by faculty members these questions:

 “Is this topic still relevant?”

 “Where’s the so-what factor in your topic?”

 “So, do you think people will really care about this”?

 “You’re topic is interesting….but I’m more interested in studying the business

side of things at the university”

Just as contingent women faculty members have been diminished, I, too, believe that I have been diminished as a doctoral candidate studying contingent women faculty, and it makes me angry. Repeatedly, I felt as if neither I nor my research topic were taken seriously because it’s feminist, because it’s oral history and because it’s about contingent women. But, it’s important to me because threads of my identity are woven tightly into this study. After earning an M.A. in English, I spent a decade teaching first-year college writing at multiple institutions: more than 60 sections of first-year college writing at three institutions over a ten-year period. I often felt shame or self-pity, wondering how I could have ended up in that place after being an honors student throughout high school, college, and graduate school. Now, I see that it was not simply poor choices or unlucky circumstances that led me and others like me (mostly women) to a life of contingency.

Rather, Allen (1999) and her theory of feminist power helped me to see that it is actually the deep structures in higher education that have shaped institutional culture and have influenced the social practices that surround women’s experiences as contingent instructors in higher education, particularly in the humanities.

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When I was a contingent faculty member, I witnessed other part-time instructors who spoke out about the poor working conditions and low wages, and I also saw the consequences of their actions: some of these instructors were not offered teaching positions in upcoming semesters. As a contingent woman faculty member, I was often afraid to express my true feelings about my position for fear that I wouldn’t have a job the next term. I learned to keep quiet. Eileen Schell, author of Gypsy Academics and

Mother-Teachers: Gender, Contingent Labor, and Writing Instruction (1998b), understands this predicament and asserted “many part-time and non-tenure-track faculty already feel burdened by their teaching loads and some fear that speaking out may cost them their jobs” (p. 4).

Mikel Brown and Gilligan (1992) concurred, writing that young women often face “…relational crisis: giving up of voice, an abandonment of self” in order to keep relationships intact. They say this behavior continues and “…women often silence themselves in relationships rather than risk open conflict or disagreement that might lead to isolation or to violence” (p. 3). That statement describes me as a composition instructor and my relationship with the English departments that employed me: I kept silent about the plight of contingency out of fear that I wouldn’t get a class next term. I used silence, not voice, and I chose to bury my true and painful feelings about being a contingent composition instructor, taking these feelings “underground” (Mikel Brown &

Gilligan, pp. 183-185).

Mikel Brown and Gilligan (1992) understand this behavior and revealed that girls

(and later women) often feel they have to silence a voice within to move ahead or to fit

16 into culture. To speak out in the workplace is a very different use of one’s voice; it is the opposite of being silent and not knowing or pretending not to know. That is why it is so amazing that some women in precarious contingent roles, with little support and no guarantee of future employment, have become activists, speaking out about the injustices of contingency. These are the women whom I focused on in my research.

Key Terms

Contingent

In my study, I adopted the AAUP term contingent to refer to all faculty members who teach off the tenure track: both in full-time and part-time positions. Kezar and Sam

(2010b) discuss the distinction between the terms “contingent” and “non-tenure-track.”

They pointed out that the term contingent, according to Webster’s Dictionary, means

“likely but not certain to happen” or “a happening by chance or unforeseen causes” (p. xi). This, they said, shows how a contingent faculty member is someone who may not be needed by an institution or who may or may not be employed at any given time (p. xi).

The term non-tenure-track, on the other hand, simply defines this group of faculty by what they do not have and will never have: tenure. Kezar and Sam (2010a) explained that the term contingent is the preferred term for other national associations, too: the

National Education Association (NEA), and the American Federation of Teachers (AFT).

Along with the AAUP, all three associations have established standards of practice for non-tenure-track faculty, and each of these professional groups uses the term

“contingent” (Kezar & Sam, p. 5) to describe these faculty members. Although Kezar and Sam (2010a) used the phrase non-tenure-track faculty in all their work, they

17 acknowledged “other groups [National Education Association, American Federation of

Teachers] have gravitated toward the word contingent because it reflects the precarious nature of the contracts of part-time and full-time non-tenure-track faculty” (p. 5).

Because of these reasons, I also use the word contingent in my dissertation study to describe both part-time and full-time non-tenure-track faculty members.

Activism

For the purposes of this study, my definition of activism finds its roots in the

“consciousness raising” used by 2nd wave feminists. Consciousness-raising activities---- the ways in which a woman’s unique personal experiences are reflected on, shared and ultimately transformative for both herself and other women---is similar to modern-day activism. Gamble (2000) explained how feminist activism began with the Seneca Falls

Convention of 1848 where women (and some men) gathered to demand an end to discrimination that was based on one’s sex (p. 16). Gamble defined activism as “the staging of activities or protests that will draw attention to issues in a dramatic way” (p.

186), citing the bra burning that took place at the 1968 Miss America beauty pageant.

Tong (2009) described the 1960s and 1970s “revolutionary feminists” who started the practice of “consciousness raising” where women got together in small groups to talk about their personal experiences as women (p. 48). As Hartsock (1998) articulated, consciousness-raising among small groups of women strengthened the links between the personal and the political, between “personal experience and political generalities about the oppression of women” (p. 19). Women used to talk to each other and share first-hand accounts of their oppression (Hartsock, p. 19). In a similar vein, contingent faculty

18 activists use their personal experiences in higher education as springboards to raise awareness and make a political statement about contingency in higher education.

Interviewee

Oral historians use a variety of terms, often interchangeably, to discuss those whose stories they want to hear, including interpreters, interviewees, respondents

(Abrams, 2010), informants, interviewees (Berger Gluck and Patai, 1991), and subjects.

Berger Gluck (1991), one of the first feminist oral historians, used the term interviewee when discussing those in her study, and I decided to adopt her term in my study.

Pilot Study

This dissertation evolved out of a pilot study that I conducted in spring 2010, using narrative inquiry methodology to interview a contingent woman faculty activist at

Kent State University who was instrumental in getting a collective bargaining unit for non-tenure-track faculty at KSU. This pilot study, which sought to understand her experiences, informed my thinking about the topic. Ultimately, it was the pilot study that led me to more refined research questions, to alternative research methods, and to a focus on activism.

I conducted two, 60-minute interviews with my interviewee, each of which gave me practice with implementing an interview protocol and using follow-up probes: the first interview focused on the instructor’s life, family, and educational background while the second interview focused on contingency, unionization efforts, and women as contingent faculty. In my dissertation, I used the same data collection methods

(interviews), but I altered my data collection and data analysis procedures.

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During my pilot study, the non-tenure-track faculty member whom I interviewed admitted that some contingent faculty members are “afraid” to speak out and voice their opinions about the department, about full-time faculty, and about the administration. She told me they whisper and say things like “don’t tell anyone, but. . . .” She said that many part-time faculty members are afraid of losing their jobs. This revelation resonated with me, so I was interested in learning if interviewees if my study would also speak about times when they used their voice or were discouraged from doing so. As chapter 4 findings show, all the contingent women faculty members in this study mentioned

“voice,” and some spoke about the fear of speaking up that is very much a part of the contingent faculty world.

Overall, my pilot study enabled me to get greater clarity about my research questions and the methodology I would use to answer those questions. It also gave me a chance to practice my interviewing skills, learning how to ask open-ended questions instead of close-ended or leading questions. For instance, I discovered that I giggled too much and was uncomfortable simply listening to the interviewee. In the course of interviewing, I was so concerned with seeing if the tape recorder was working that I missed a few opportunities to ask follow-up probes. I also learned how careful observation and scrupulous note taking can lead to very surprising insights.

Conclusion

My dissertation research was guided by the belief that a single voice matters, that a single voice can make a difference, but that a chorus of voices is even louder and more powerful. The stories and experiences of contingent women faculty activists must be

20 heard, listened to, and shared---and researchers must keep thinking about, writing about, and talking about contingent teaching labor in higher education.

Feminist oral history has enabled me to study my interviewees in a different way, giving me access to data—their voices—that I couldn’t obtain quantitatively. Recording and analyzing the oral histories of contingent faculty activists has allowed me to honor their experiences, and I plan to eventually store the audio recordings in an archival repository or make audio clips available on a website with hot (active) links. The collection of these life histories will become herstories that document academic labor practices in U.S. higher education as well as these six contingent women faculty members’ efforts to transform the exploitive system.

CHAPTER II

LITERATURE REVIEW

Contingent Faculty Academic Literature: Overview

According to an AAUP report, released in June 2012, “By 2009—the latest year for which national data are available—75 percent of U.S. faculty appointments were off the tenure track, and 60 percent were part-time” (p. 1). This report is simply the most recent of many articles and studies on the contingent faculty workforce in higher education, and it said that the portion of the academic workforce holding contingent appointments are often excluded from departmental and institutional governance. The report (AAUP 2012) makes several recommendations, including having more contingent faculty in campus governance, allowing voting privileges to contingent faculty, and awarding them compensation for service. Implementing these recommendations is a good idea because, as Glazor-Raymo (1999) pointed out, “Fewer than 5 percent of PT faculty are on the tenure track; less than 10 percent are protected by collective bargaining agreements; and 79 percent are classified below assistant professor” (p. 58).

Over the years, many researchers have attempted to categorize the academic literature on contingent faculty. For example, Wagoner (2005) stated that contingent faculty research literature falls into two categories: “working conditions” (literature related to exploitation of contingent faculty) and “integration into institutional culture”

(literature related to the academic quality of programs) (p. 26). Kezar and Sam (2010b)

21 22 said that texts on contingent faculty become outdated very quickly because the nature of academic staffing is changing so rapidly (p. 2).

Much of the current literature on part-time and non-tenure-track faculty reveals a passive acceptance of the state of contingency in U.S. higher education. Existing studies reinforce contingent faculty members’ marginalized positions in the academy. For instance, researchers have devoted countless projects, both empirical and non-empirical, to a search for answers to these questions among others:

 Are contingent faculty members satisfied with their jobs?

 How should we train, develop, and manage our contingent faculty?

 How are contingent faculty members different from full-time faculty?

 What impact are all these contingent faculty members having on our students?

The burgeoning contingent faculty activist movement aims to transform the status quo in higher education, and in the past ten years there has been some scholarship devoted to a study of contingent faculty activism and activists. This body of literature shows contingent faculty assuming the roles of grassroots leaders in higher education.

The American Association of University Professors (AAUP) and others, including Kezar

& Sam (2010), asserted that more research is needed on the experiences of contingent faculty. Because activism and an activist culture is indeed part of the current contingent faculty member experience, this is an that deserves more attention and more research.

In my study, a feminist oral history, I analyzed the stories and experiences of contingent women faculty activists---a gap and silence in the academic literature. My

23 study of contingent women faculty activists extends the current research on activism and grassroots leadership among contingent faculty and is an original contribution to the existing body of scholarship on contingent faculty.

Contingent Faculty Literature: Comprehensive Studies

At the federal level, the National Study of Postsecondary Faculty (NSOPF) conducted a study in 2004 “to provide data about faculty to postsecondary education researchers, planners, and policymakers. NSOPF is the most recent and most comprehensive study of faculty in postsecondary educational institutions ever undertaken” (National Center for Education Statistics, 2004). The 2004 study included a sample of 35,000 faculty and instructional staff from 1,080 public and private post-secondary institutions. The survey instrument included sections on nature of employment, workload, job satisfaction, and more. Results indicated that approximately

48% of college and university faculty are part time.

These results echo findings from earlier studies. Integrated Postsecondary

Education Data Statistics from the National Center for Education Statistics (1995-96) indicated part-time faculty numbers continue to increase and that “temporary” is misleading because many of these appointments continue year after year. The National

Education Association’s Higher Education Research Center also gathered data (1997) to give a statistical breakdown of part-time faculty, saying their estimates about the numbers of part-time faculty were much lower than the actual numbers.

Kezar and Sam (2010b) pointed to three data-driven studies of contingent faculty that are considered to be foundation or baseline studies. The first, Gappa and Leslie’s

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1993 book, The invisible faculty, focused only on part-time faculty and has become a comprehensive source on this population. A second, Baldwin and Chronister’s 2001

Teaching Without Tenure, focused solely on full-time non-tenure-track faculty while a third study looked at both groups (Hollenshead et al., 2007).

First, Gappa and Leslie’s 1993 qualitative study is often cited in research on part-time faculty. Their book described case studies conducted at multiple institutions in which Gappa and Leslie interviewed administrators, tenure-track faculty, and 243 part-time faculty members. They re-visited and altered Tuckman’s (1978) typology, and they provided a summary of part-time faculty, including policies and practices, such as hiring, salary, benefits, and governance. Their findings support the typology studies

(described later in this review of literature) which claimed that job satisfaction varies among this population because it is so heterogeneous.

Next, in the only national study to examine all non-tenure-track faculty at four-year institutions, Making the Best of Both Worlds (Hollenshead et al., 2007), the researchers asked administrators at approximately 500 institutions about the policies and practices used for both full-time and part-time non-tenure-track faculty. This national, quantitative study is rare because it was one of the few to separate contingent faculty into these two separate groups, examining the different policies used to govern part-time faculty as well as full-time non-tenure-track faculty. Finally, Teaching Without Tenure

(Baldwin & Chronister, 2001) was a qualitative study focusing solely on full-time, non-tenure-track faculty. The researchers used a case study approach to look at policies, practices, and experiences of this group.

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Finally, a discussion of comprehensive studies should give a nod to Pankin and

Weiss (2008), two researchers who have conducted a thorough review of contingent faculty literature. They created a useful selected annotated bibliography on part-time faculty in higher education. In the introduction to their bibliography, Pankin and Weiss mentioned that existing research “is centered on four topics: the status of part-timers, exploitation or lack of justice for part-time faculty, their morale or job satisfaction, and the educational problems that are created by using part-time faculty” (p. 1).

Boote and Beile (2005) stated that “good” research must understand what has already been done on a topic---including the strengths and weaknesses of prior studies, articulating that “a researcher cannot perform significant research without first understanding the literature in the field” (p. 3). Heeding their advice, I conducted my own review of the literature on contingent faculty from the past 40 years, identifying gaps both in the research methodologies previously used and in the focus of former studies. In the process, I uncovered themes and issues that have dominated this area of inquiry. This discussion constitutes the remainder of chapter 2.

Contingent Faculty Literature: Theoretical Approaches

Kezar and Sam (2010a) did a meta-analysis of the existing literature on contingent faculty, discovering that a belief in a particular ideology frequently guides research projects on this population. For instance, some studies focused on exploitation of contingent faculty, a negative feature of contingency, while other studies focused on career flexibility, a more positive feature of contingency (pp. 8-9). Thus, they found that

26 ideology frequently shapes studies of contingent faculty. Most importantly, their meta-analysis explored various theories that have been used to study this population.

Dual-Market Economic Theories

In particular, dual-market theory has been used to study contingent faculty. It divides the labor market into two segments: primary (tenure-track faculty) and secondary

(non-tenure-track faculty). For instance, Shaker (2008) looked at English department faculty and used dual-market theory to posit that the primary segment has job security and benefits while the secondary does not. Thus, a contingent workforce was formed when downsizing and restructuring began in higher education. As Kezar and Sam

(2010a) explained in their meta- analysis “Primary markets offer security, health benefits, and other privileges, while secondary markets offer less security and fewer benefits” (p.

21). Umbach (2007) looked at how this type of relationship between worker and organization impacts both; he asserted that if an organization is not committed to employees and not able to provide resources and support, the employees, in turn, will exhibit less commitment to that organization.

Sociological Theories

Sociological theories focus on professionalization, deskilling, and academic capitalism (Rhoades, 1998). Rhoades argued that all faculty, whether tenure-track or non-tenure-track, are becoming managed professionals. Kezar and Sam (2010a) wrote that academic capitalism is another sociological theory that has been used to study contingent faculty. These types of studies have focused on the shift in higher education from institutions with educational values to those with a corporate culture (Kezar, 2004;

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Slaughter & Rhodes, 2004). Abel's (1984) study used sociology to examine the lives and working conditions of those who had become contingent faculty members, including recent Ph.D. graduates and faculty members who did not get tenure. Her research called attention to the economic situation facing newly-minted Ph.D. graduates.

Psychological and Social Psychological Theories

This theoretical category includes studies that examine the motivation

(Hollenshead, 2007) and level of commitment of contingent faculty. This category also included myriad job satisfaction studies. Maynard and Joseph (2008), in particular, looked at the connection between job satisfaction and underemployment. Social capital theory, a psychological theory, looked at how contingent faculty members impact students. However, Kezar and Sam (2010a) pointed out that such studies are statistically insignificant, claiming “the concern about whether non-tenure-track faculty affect student integration remains a hypothesis with only limited evidence in support of this hypothesis”

(p. 32).

Organizational Theory

Kezar and Sam (2010a) wrote that organizational theory, represented in the studies by Gappa and Leslie (1993) and Baldwin and Chronister (2001), was used a bit superficially to study contingent faculty. These researchers simply focused their studies at the organizational level rather than employing specific organizational theories and concepts (p. 34). However, one study looked at productivity, an organizational concept, and found that that tenure system---with its emphasis on professional development, clear expectations, mentoring and rewards---fosters a productivity-facilitating environment

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(Bland et al., 2006). But, it found that contingent faculty members have much less access to the productivity-facilitating aspects of an academic environment.

Labor Relations Theory

Kezar and Sam (2010a) said studies informed by labor relations theories focus on unions and their role, addressing power struggles, activism, and how to get people involved. Some researchers used labor relations theory to spur contingent faculty onto activism (Alinsky, 1971; Berry, 2005; Nelson, 1997). Kezar and Sam (2010a) pointed out that unions began to recognize and write about contingent faculty issues in the 1990s.

In particular, the AAUP, the NEA, and the AFT formed subgroups whose task it was to craft policy statements related to contingent faculty. According to Kezar and Sam

(2010a), these three groups all have very strong influence on faculty policy, but each has taken a somewhat different approach. The authors continued, explaining that by the early

2000s, regional union groups gained prominence in states such as California, Illinois,

Massachusetts, and Wisconsin. These regional groups, wrote Kezar and Sam (2010a), created listservs, websites, and other resources to help contingent faculty.

In addition to unions, higher education organizations, associations and professional groups, such as the New Faculty Majority, have formed---creating reports, doing research, and voicing the concerns of contingent faculty members. The New

Faculty Majority’s study, Who is Professor “Staff” and how can this person teach so many classes? (2012) examined the working conditions of contingent faculty, paying particular attention to “just-in-time” or last-minute hiring practices of contingent faculty

29 and the lack of adequate resources, including syllabi, technology, office , library privileges, and orientation programs.

The Coalition on the Academic Workforce conducted a survey in fall 2010 “to get a snapshot of contingent faculty members’ teaching responsibilities and conditions of employment during the semester or quarter when the data were collected” (p. 5). The survey, consisting of 160 questions, yielded 20, 920 responses from contingent instructors. Key findings showed the median pay per three-credit-hour course was

$2,700 with more than 80% of the respondents teaching for more than three years and more than 50% of the respondents teaching more than six years. The survey also showed that over 75% of the respondents have looked for, are looking for, or will seek a full-time, tenure-track position.

Typology Studies

Many typology studies exist in contingent faculty literature, and throughout the years, researchers have developed typologies as a way to classify contingent faculty

(Gappa & Leslie, 1993; Kezar & Sam, 2010; Tuckman, 1978). Tuckman’s (1978) typology is one of the most popular, a taxonomy developed from his survey of 3,763 part-time faculty members. It classified part-time faculty into seven categories

1. Semiretireds: 2.8% of Tuckman’s sample. Former academics or

professionals who are less concerned about future job prospects than part-time

employees in the other categories.

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2. Graduate Students: 21.2% of Tuckman’s sample. Those earning graduate

degrees at the institution in which they were teaching part time for experience

and income.

3. Hopeful full-timers: 16.6% of Tuckman’s sample. Those who wanted (but

could not secure) full-time academic positions. Often, they had part-time

contracts at multiple institutions and were teaching what would be a full-time

load---but with part-time status.

4. Full-mooners: 27.6% of Tuckman’s sample. Those who had another job,

working at least 35 hours per week.

5. Homeworkers: 6.4% of Tuckman’s sample. Those who chose to work part

time because they were caregivers (for children or relatives). In some cases,

part-time teaching was their sole income; in other cases, it supplemented their

income.

6. Part-mooners: 13.6% of Tuckman’s sample. This category included those

who taught part time while working less than 35 hours elsewhere, often out of

economic necessity, for psychic reward, and because of highly-specialized

skills not utilized by the other employer.

7. Part-unknowners: 11.8% of Tuckman’s sample. Those who taught part time

for unknown reasons.

Gappa and Leslie (1993) revisited Tuckman’s typology, simplifying it into four broad categories:

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1. Career Enders: Often full-time faculty members who are ending their careers

and transitioning into part-time teaching. Some are retired or in the process of

retiring from full-time jobs outside of academia.

2. Specialists, Experts, and Professionals: Those who may hold full-time jobs

elsewhere and advanced training in their field of study. Often, they teach not

because of economic necessity but because they enjoy it. Sometimes, these

part-time faculty members’ credentials add prestige to the institution that

employs them.

3. Aspiring Academics: Many in this category are new Ph.D’s or those with the

Ph.D. who have tried, unsuccessfully, to obtain a tenure-track position. Some

are also ABD doctoral students and other graduate students who are also

teaching part time. Others in this category are what Gappa and Leslie (1993)

called freeway flyers, those who have part-time teaching positions at multiple

institutions (p. 59).

4. Freelancers: This group is the most varied, often comprised of artists or

caregivers. For many, teaching part time was just one freelance job that they

held to support themselves; others also did consulting or writing, for example.

Gappa and Leslie (1993) wrote that higher education institutions tend to group all part-time faculty members into the same general category. However, Gappa and Leslie

(1993) articulated that “Institutions should make a greater effort to understand who is teaching for them, what each person has to offer, and what kind of incentives and support would help part timers make a greater contribution” (p. 64).

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Kezar and Sam (2010b) agreed, writing that contingent faculty members represent a “heterogeneous mixture of people who differ greatly in terms of employment, job descriptions, and motivations” (p. viii). They amplify this point in their monograph, writing that many factors influence the working conditions, the experiences, and the policies for contingent faculty, including institutional type and part-time or full-time status. Kezar (2012) says there is yet another way to categorize part-time and full-time non-tenure-track faculty: finding out if they choose to work part time.

1. Voluntary employment: Those who choose not to take a full-time position or a

tenure-track position in the academy. They may simply enjoy teaching or find

that this type of position fits well into their lives and careers.

2. Involuntary employment: Those who want a full-time tenure-track position in

the academy---or any type of full-time job.

Above all else, these multiple typologies show the diversity that exists among contingent faculty. Therefore, general policies and procedures aimed at satisfying all part-time faculty members can never accommodate the many varieties described here

Deficit Framing in Contingent Faculty Academic Literature

Feldman and Turnley (2004) astutely reported that most of the literature on contingent faculty has been negative, focusing mostly on what these academic workers lack. I agree with their assertion and below I provide an overview of the various themes in the literature that cast contingent faculty in a negative light. This overview supports the claim that that my study fills a gap in existing literature, much of it deficit framing of

33 adjuncts, while extending the newer literature on activism and grassroots leadership among contingent faculty.

Working Conditions of Contingent Faculty

Improving contingent faculty working conditions has been a rich topic for years.

The American Association of University Professors (AAUP) has been a staunch advocate of contingent faculty working conditions. Thirty years ago, Academe (1981) asserted that employment guidelines are needed to assist higher education institutions in the hiring of contingent faculty, adding “The treatment of part-time faculty members, in terms of salary, fringe benefits, and of security of employment also deserves examination”

(AAUP, p. 30). Biles and Tuckman (1986) continued this conversation in their book

Part-time faculty personnel management which explores possible policies that could be implemented.

Gappa and Leslie (1993) are sympathetic toward the plight of contingent faculty but argue for educational reform, which includes integration of part-time and full-time faculty rather than separation, fair employment practices, professional development, and recognition of their service and accomplishments. Gappa (2000) also wrote about issues surrounding contingent faculty employment, and in a more recent book by Gappa, Austin

& Trice, Rethinking faculty work (2007), the discussion continues with attention paid to women in contingent faculty positions.

Improving working conditions for contingent faculty is crucial because it also means improving educational opportunities for students. Schell argued that the quality of instruction is impacted by the conditions in which some contingent faculty work (Schell,

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1998b). In turn, improving working conditions for contingent faculty also means giving all faculty m`embers a chance to participate in institutional governance and in policy discussions (Schell, 1998b).

Role of Gender in Contingent Appointments

For decades, researchers have been writing about women as contingent faculty.

Glazor-Raymo (2003) discussed AAUP data and reminded readers that “the policy of hiring part-time faculty began as a temporary measure between 1972 and 1977” (p. 102) but said that later the same “laws and regulations designed to protect women and minorities now served to inhibit their prospects for permanent employment” (p. 103). In addition, although 42% of Ph.D. degrees are granted to women (Glazer-Raymo, 2003), more women have been hired for non-tenure-track positions since the 1990s, and there has been a decrease in the number of women faculty hired overall. Aisenberg and

Harrington in their book, Women of Academe: Outsiders in the Sacred Grove (1988), discussed the experiences of women in higher education in general, with attention to career trajectories and to the social norms that often thwart careers. Kezar and Sam

(2010b) stated that “Women continue to be disproportionately represented in non-tenure-track faculty appointments, both full time and part time” (p. 41).

In short, women employed as contingent faculty members is a topic that has been discussed for the past 30 years. Kantrowitz (1981), whose book focused on academic women, devoted a chapter to salary disputes and the promotion process. Tuckman and

Tuckman (1981), who wrote more than a dozen pieces on part time faculty, used AAUP data to compare and contrast male and female part-timers, articulating that part-time

35 status is a woman’s problem. The authors identified specific reasons why women are employed as contingent faculty, including lack of geographic mobility and working in fields like the humanities and the arts which are considered "female" and are thus lower paying.

Burns (1992) wrote about Women, part-time faculty, and illusion, drawing a parallel between the overuse of women in English composition programs and third world labor conditions. She also said more than 60% of humanities faculty members are women. Lomperis (1990) continued along this line, examining the dramatic increase of women in academia from a supply/demand . Schell (1998b) turned her dissertation on part-time women teachers into a provocative book with feminist underpinnings, exploring the reasons why women’s work (especially in English composition studies) has been devalued. She revealed the “gendered politics” of composition.

A Canadian research study focused on gender and career trajectory asserted that women have a greater likelihood than men of being directed into part-time jobs, claiming that more females, especially those holding doctorates, are involuntary part-time employees (Lundy & Warme, 1985). The study went on to say that women are more likely to remain part-time academics because there is less societal for a woman to hold a full-time job. In a later study, Lundy and Warme (1990) discussed the rise of women in the academic workforce, citing many factors which influence one’s career trajectory. Glazer-Raymo (2001), in her book Shattering the myths: Women in academe, asserted that four interrelated trends have significantly affected women’s place in the professoriate, creating what she calls “gendered consequences” (p. 36). These include an

36 institutional shift away from tenure-track positions, hiring more faculty part time and off the tenure track, and difficulty in breaking through the glass ceiling (Glazer-Raymo,

2001). Together, these factors have negatively impacted women’s place in the academy, forcing many of them into part-time, temporary, and non-tenure-track positions.

Contingency in the Humanities and English Composition

A body of research on contingent faculty focuses on those who teach in the humanities (in general) and English composition (in particular). In Part-time academic employment in the humanities (1984), Wallace acknowledged the high percentage of women who hold part-time faculty positions. In particular, Wallace's (1984) collection addressed part-time faculty working conditions and called attention to activism among contingent faculty----topics and themes that still dominate discussions of contingency 30 years later. The Modern Language Association’s (MLA) Committee on Professional

Employment published a report (1998) about the growing use of part-time faculty, and the

New York Times reported on the depressed humanities market and the hiring of part-time faculty as a solution (2002).

Plenty of articles also exist, and though they are not research studies, they have explored the overwhelming number of part-time faculty who staff humanities courses and

English composition classes. For example, one of the activists interviewed for this study

(Thompson, 1992) wrote that women are disproportionately represented in part-time teaching positions in higher education (particularly in the humanities) and compared them to industrial-age sweatshop workers because of the “meager piecework compensation” they receive (p. 53). Ashton-Jones (1995) devoted her book to a

37 discussion of the politics of gender: Feminine principles and women’s experiences in

American composition and rhetoric. Enos (1999), too, wrote on Gender roles and faculty lives in rhetoric and composition.

Schell (1998a) explained that women who teach composition tend to be become absorbed in their students’ lives and are quite comfortable with the minute and tedious details involved with grading piles of written compositions. They also tend to be nurturing and very conscientious. The large number of contingent faculty members in composition, many of whom are women, has led to the feminization of composition studies. These contingent faculty members have a marginal status in the academy, a heavy teaching load, and few benefits. They are removed from the academic discourse of their discipline and frequently unable to participate in the conversation.

Student Success and Contingent Faculty

Too often, part-time faculty issues are thought to be the domain of administrators and those confined to academic affairs. However, contingent faculty activists argue that poor teaching conditions for faculty inevitably lead to poor learning conditions for students (Fulwiler & Marlow, 2009). According to some studies, faculty working conditions influence student learning conditions (Kezar & Sam, 2010; New Faculty

Majority, 2012), and this body of literature is disheartening. It is an issue that should definitely be acknowledged by those with an interest in student affairs and student services in higher education.

By looking at student transcripts, Jaeger (2008) examined the dropout rates at four public universities in the United States. Her study found that first-year college students

38 who are enrolled in introductory-level, gatekeeper courses taught by part-time faculty are more likely to drop out of school. In fact, Jaeger’s study even claimed that students are

20 to 30 percent more likely to drop out of the university if they were taught by an adjunct. However, if the introductory-level / gatekeeper courses were taught by graduate students or full-time, non-tenure-track faculty, students were not affected. Jaeger said that unlike part-time faculty, neither of these other groups affected student retention rates.

A 2008 study by the American Educational Research Association (Glenn), which was provocatively titled Keep adjuncts away from intro courses, echoed the link between part-time faculty and student retention, revealing that first-year college students are much more likely to drop out of college if part-time faculty members teach their introductory courses. In addition, Jacoby (2006) studied the impact of part-time faculty on graduation rates at community colleges. He used multiple regression analysis to see if there is a connection between the number of part-time faculty and student graduation rates. His study included three dependent variables: Integrated Postsecondary Data System

(IPEDS) graduation , the net graduation rate, and the overall degree ratio. The shocking results of the study, which Jacoby calls “highly significant” and “negative,” indicated that graduation rates dropped when the number of part-time faculty members increased (p. 1092). Another article by Umbach (2007) explored the connection between part-time faculty teaching and student learning.

According to Center for the Future of Higher Education (2012), “Perhaps the most important result of these damaging working conditions is that the educational experience of students suffers, both inside and outside of the classroom” (p. 1). For

39 example, contingent faculty may experience fear or anxiety because of the precariousness of their positions. As a result, they may try to appease students in myriad ways to get better evaluations and to secure a teaching spot for the next term. Or, they may be busy

“freeway flyers” and “Roads Scholars” who make classes less demanding for students simply because they have little time to prepare lectures and to grade assignments. No matter the scenario, students suffer the consequences of contingent faculty working conditions.

Anecdotal Evidence about Contingency

My review of non-academic literature shows that research on contingent faculty falls into yet another category, most of which is negative in tone: “stories” written by contingent faculty members who want their voices to be heard. These anecdotal accounts are often first-person narratives about life as a contingent faculty member. First-person narratives and self-published books about the contingent-faculty experience abound, and a simple online search of “part-time faculty” on The Chronicle of Higher Education Web site yields more than 2,400 hits, many of them first-person accounts and opinion pieces by part-time instructors. In addition, a similar search on Amazon.com results in thousands of books with “part-time faculty” as the subject.

Most of these pieces are emotional, one-sided articles or personal narratives about someone’s experiences as a contingent faculty member. Such pieces use biased and emotionally-charged language. Personal accounts of life off the tenure track populate the literature on part-time faculty. Part-time faculty members apparently have a strong desire

40 to share their stories and their experiences. The following titles reveal just a smattering of those publications expressing a disdain for the contingent faculty experience:

1. Memoirs and confessions of a part-time lecturer (Chell, 1982)

2. Roadblocks to research: One part-timer’s view (Jason, 1984)

3. The part-time problem: four voices (Flynn et al., 1986)

4. Tales of a freeway flyer: Or why I left college teaching after 10 years

(Maitland, 1987)

5. Young professors find life in academia isn’t what it used to be (Horwitz,

1994).

6. After her Ph.D., the scavenger’s life: Trying to turn a patchwork of part-time

jobs into an academic career (Berger, 1998)

7. Alice in the academy: A farce in thirteen scenes (Schneer, 1998)

8. I was an adjunct laborer in the fields of academe (Jay, 2004)

9. My life as an adjunct after a full career (Caesar, 2004)

10. Flying standby (Keels, 2005)

11. Dear adjunct faculty member (Fielding, 2005)

12. Waiting 20 years for the tenure track (Jack, 2008)

In fairness, it is important to note that not all writers denounce the contingent lifestyle. Some part-time faculty members use first-person narratives to describe the benefits and rewards of teaching part time, challenging the narrative about contingent faculty as an exploited lot:

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1. A proud part-timer thinks many adjuncts need a new attitude (Smallwood,

2001).

2. Life as a virtual adjunct (Brown, 2002)

3. Nine reasons why I love my adjunct status (Tingley, 2002)

4. How to survive as an adjunct lecturer (Carroll, 2003)

5. Part-timer: Blessing in disguise (Simmons, 2006)

The abundance of anecdotes and personal essays shows that contingent faculty members have a desire to tell their stories, and the variety of topics supports Kezar and

Sam’s (2010a) claim about how one’s ideology influences one’s writing on contingent faculty.

Contingent Faculty Compared to Full-time Faculty

Since the 1970s, researchers have also compared full-time faculty to part-time faculty in an attempt to highlight the similarities and differences between these groups.

Kellams and Kyre (1978) studied the work patterns of full timers vs. part timers while

Friedlander (1979) reported on surveys which showed that part-time faculty, when compared to full-time faculty, are less involved in professional growth, have little input about instructional materials, and use fewer out-of-class activities.

McArthur (1999) compared six part-time and 12 full-time humanities faculty members to study the correlation between student achievement and professors’ grading systems. Results indicated that contingent faculty members were much more likely than full-time faculty to give students A grades. Lei (2007) administered a survey to 400 randomly-selected faculty members, to study the teaching practices of both full-time and

42 part-time faculty members. He found that part-time instructors used lecture far more frequently than full-time faculty members and were also less inclined to use varied teaching methods and technology in their classes.

All of these studies are significant because these researchers, by the very nature of their studies and their research questions, are implying differences between full-time faculty and contingent faculty. And I explain in chapter 5, my dissertation drew attention to prevailing deep structures in higher education that attempt to define the ideal, legitimate faculty member.

Job Satisfaction of Contingent Faculty

Researchers have conducted myriad studies over the past 20 years to determine the job satisfaction of contingent faculty (Feldman & Turnley, 2004; Kuchera & Miller,

1988; Monroe & Denman, 1991). One case study, in an attempt to reveal job satisfaction among contingent faculty, used logistic regression analysis to discover how many part-time instructors at community colleges want full-time, tenure-track positions (Jacoby

2005). The gender-dependent variable in the study was the desire for full-time, tenure-track positions, and the independent variables included age, teaching experience, having children, other source of income, etc. The study found that the typical part-time instructor seeks full-time employment and becomes discouraged when the situation doesn’t manifest. Most take on heavy teaching loads to compensate for not having a full-time position.

Next, Valadez and Anthony (2001) surveyed 20,300 faculty members, of which

37% were part-time instructors. They asked the instructors to assess their level of job

43 satisfaction and obtained scores on three dimensions of satisfaction that have been identified in research: satisfaction with students, satisfaction with personal autonomy, and satisfaction with role demands and rewards. Results showed that full-time faculty members were more satisfied overall in these three areas. However, the study also showed that part-time faculty members are more satisfied, overall, with their jobs than full-time faculty. Another study also evaluated part-time faculty, questioning their attitudes toward tenure, work environment, and the quality of their work life. The study was an attempt to determine the factors that contribute to job satisfaction among non-tenure-track and part-time faculty (Gappa, 2000). The researcher found that part-time faculty members were dissatisfied with various aspects of their job. Another study, published in Higher Education, explored the connection between faculty status and satisfaction and commitment (Maynard & Joseph, 2008).

Academic Capitalism and Contingency

Many researchers have studied the corporatization of higher education and the role of contingent faculty within this model because as corporatization in higher education has increased, so, too, has the division of labor, resulting in a two-tier, stratified academic workforce. Academic capitalism refers to the managerial model that is now prevalent in higher education and which results in tuition increases, resources being spent on campus facilities, quantifiable data being used to measure program outcomes, fewer full-time, tenure-stream faculty and many more contingent faculty members.

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In How The University Works: Higher Education and the Low-Wage Nation,

Bousquet (2008b) exposed the corporatization of higher education. He accused academe’s low-wage institutions of exploiting both students and faculty. Bousquet

(2008b) used labor relations and social theory to dissect the academic labor system and to study the corporatization of higher education. Bousquet (2008b) also used Marxism to analyze the current structure of the academic labor and argued that a managerial unconscious is at work in higher education.

Currie and Vidovich (1998) included part-time faculty in their discussion and definition of a managerial university, articulating how faculties have diminished roles in decision making while administrators have more. Harney and Martin (1998) discussed part-time faculty from an economic perspective, explaining that all faculty are part of the service sector of the economy, but part-time faculty make up the surplus academic labor pool, which includes a large number of women. Contingent faculty members are considered surplus labor that academic managers can easily control. Martin (1999) gave a thorough description of the “managed university,” using four case studies. He discussed academic capitalism and the role of part-time faculty within it. Pratt (1997) wrote passionately about the exploitation of part-time faculty, arguing that it’s a ploy to eventually eliminate the tenure system and to allow administrators to gain control.

Rhoades (1996) wrote about managerial control and cost reduction in higher education—and the role of part-time faculty in this system.

Slaughter and Leslie, in Academic capitalism: Politics, policies, and the entrepreneurial university (1997), also discussed the university from a business

45 perspective. Focusing on public research universities, the authors gave a thorough explanation of academe’s shift into entrepreneurial institutions that treat research as a commodity. The American Federation of Teachers (2003) explored the differences between tenure-track and NTT faculty as part of the business model of higher education.

Johnson, Kavanagh and Matteson (2003), in Steal this university, also discussed the corporatization of higher education. Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) were praised by reviewers for showing how higher education institutions now focus on profit, commercializing and selling educational services and research products.

Professionalization of Contingent Faculty

There are many practical pieces on professional development, pointing to the need to support part-time faculty. It is worth noting that a robust literature exists on this topic but not many empirical studies. The broader topic, professionalization, has been addressed by Kezar and Sam (2010b) who discussed both top-down and bottom-up professionalization of part-time faculty in higher education. Top-down professionalization is linear and consists of developing a staffing plan, regularizing hiring procedures, having equitable compensation and benefits developing a promotion and evaluation system, and including contingent faculty in governance, especially curriculum committees. This type of professionalization plan is left in the hands of administrators and does not give contingent faculty members much of a voice.

Yet, Kezar and Sam (2010b) explained that bottom-up professionalizing includes contingent faculty members in all stages of the process from mobilizing, becoming visible, and creating awareness to creating a plan of action, which includes the support of

46 allies, to using data to make a case (such as the number of contingent faculty members and their salaries). Bottom-up professionalizing also means contingent faculty are involved in task or committees, hold leadership roles in faculty governance, and work to garner outside support from students, parents, unions, and the media.

Kezar (2012) wrote about the professionalization of contingent faculty, arguing that change must be institutionalized: “the generic recommendations will not be as successful if they are not modified to fit the campus culture” (p. 3). This means the professional development and professionalization of contingent faculty members should be context based, taking into account the type of institution that employs the contingent faculty members and the variety among the faculty members themselves. Maisto (2012), co-founder of the New Faculty Majority and a part-time faculty member, personalizes this statement by writing that professionalization of contingent faculty is part of

“academic citizenship” (p. 197). These pieces that advocate for bottom-up professionalization tie is well with the next body of literature, which is also about a bottom-up approach to change.

Academic Labor Justice and Contingent Faculty Activism

Pankin and Weiss (2008) wrote that recent contingent faculty literature, from

2003 to the present, centers on activism, social change, and globalization of higher education. Throughout the past decade and a half, there have been several important publications on academic labor. In 1997, Nelson’s collection of essays, Will Teach for

Food, spoke of the difficulty in organizing contingent academic workers, though half of the book’s focus was graduate student unionization. Martin’s Chalk Lines: The Politics

47 of Work in the Managed University (1999) looked at organizing efforts among full-time and part-time faculty, as well as graduate students, in public higher education both in

U.S. and abroad. Essays in the book examined labor movements as well as the academic capitalism and managerialism that have turned higher education institutions into businesses. The contributors to this collection showed how changes in academic labor practices have resulted in the astounding numbers of adjunct faculty and the subsequent push toward union organizing.

DeCew’s (2003) Unionization in the Academy took a balanced approach to the issue and looked at the pros and cons of unionization while giving a thorough history of unions within academic labor. That same year, Herman and Schmid (2003) used case studies and essays (written by full-time faculty, part-time faculty, and graduate students) to examine the challenges in organizing different types of academic workers. The book also discussed academic labor, the identity of academic workers, and bottom-up approaches to re-shaping higher education institutions.

Bousquet (2006) explored the topic of a militant culture developing among part-time faculty. He pointed a finger at administrators, writing “But even most collective-bargaining faculties have not even addressed such core issues of administrative control of the workplace as the massive creation, over the past twenty years, of a majority contingent workforce” (p. 100). Schmid (2004) also wrote about online unionization, a new phenomenon at the time of publication, and advocates for “open source unionism” via the Internet.

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Berry’s book (2005), Reclaiming the Ivory Tower, explored contingency in higher education and provided practical suggestions for organizing adjuncts and dealing with opposition. Berry (2005) provided detailed steps in a practical handbook for organizing a contingent workforce, including publicity, alliance building, and dealing with opposition, among other things. Berry (2005) wrote “If this book has a single message it is this: first, there is a movement out there to learn from and join, and secondly, when we fight we are winning” (p. XIII).

Moving a mountain: Transforming the role of contingent faculty in composition studies and higher education is a book that deals specifically with unionization efforts among English composition faculty. In the introduction, Schell (2001) asserted that studying contingent composition faculty makes sense when one is examining the issue of contingency because composition courses have a long history of being staffed by those who are off the tenure track. However, Schell also acknowledged that reform in policies and procedures related to contingent faculty will not be made—and that the situation will only get worse—if changes and insights remain confined to specific disciplines. She stated that all those impacted by contingency must work together. The remainder of the collection is a series of case studies and essays—written by contingent faculty members, tenure-track faculty, and administrators—focused primarily on changing the hiring and working conditions of contingent faculty in the humanities.

However, most worth noting in the context of this dissertation study is Kezar’s

(2012) book: the first publication about successful contingent faculty activist efforts.

This collection of case studies and essays documented the mobilization, implementation,

49 and institutionalization of policies for contingent faculty at various higher education institutions, each with a different mission. The contingent faculty members in this book are from different disciplines (unlike those in Schell’s 2001 collection). In particular,

Kezar (2012) said “this book will showcase contingent/non-tenure-track faculty leaders from different campuses and the progress they have made to implement change” (p. xv).

Each of the eight chapters in Part II of Kezar’s (2012) book was written from the point of view of contingent faculty leaders and activists who have worked for change. For instance, some of the institutions have just begun to mobilize (University of Southern

California and Villanova) while others have completely altered the campus culture for contingent faculty (Vancouver Community College). Still others have a long history of focusing on contingent faculty issues (San Francisco State University). This book is an important part of the literature on contingent faculty activism. In addition, it is part of a new body of literature in higher education on bottom-up or grassroots leadership among faculty.

Kezar and Lester (2011) revealed that the literature on grassroots leadership can be found in many academic disciplines such as sociology and women’s studies.

However, bottom-up leadership styles are new in higher education, and so are the studies that focus on this approach in education literature. Kezar and Lester (2011) discussed those individuals in higher education who are making changes despite the fact that they do not have formal authority positions. The authors also discussed barriers to contingent faculty leadership, including high turnover and a lack of access to formal and informal power with the institution.

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The authors focused mostly on Meyerson’s tempered radicals framework (2003).

They believe that this model is quite appropriate for examining grassroots leadership in higher education, explaining that “tempered radicals are individuals who wish to create change in their organizations, but because they are employees, not outsiders, they temper their strategies to create change” (p.30). This approach, state Kezar and Lester, is needed in higher education and deviates sharply from the top-down leadership styles that dominated the academy for a long time. Meyerson’s tempered radicals framework emphasizes the experiences of faculty and staff who do not hold positions of authority---but who desire to change values and practices on campus. It is particularly effective because, as Kezar and Lester explain, “it provides an overarching connection among various components of grassroots leadership at the individual, group, and organizational levels not offered in much of the earlier [grassroots leadership] literature”

(p. 42).

Kezar and Lester (2011) revealed that Meyerson’s (2003) theory uses a multi-level approach to explore the role of the individual, the group, and the organization in grassroots leadership. As Kezar and Lester (2011) stated, the tempered radicals framework allows one to look not only at individual leaders but also provides an overarching connection at the group and organizational levels, allowing one to study individual leadership in conjunction with collective leadership, something not found in a lot of the literature on grassroots leadership. Kezar and Lester (2011) explained how individual, group, and organizational factors influence grassroots leadership among activists:

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Individual

 Motivation: her reasons for involvement in grassroots leadership

 Identity: how her background and experiences inform her approach to grassroots

leadership

 Resiliency: how she bounced back from difficult circumstances

Group

 Tactics: Specific methods she and others used to achieve goals, i.e. organizing,

marches, consciousness raising

 Strategy: What tactics she and others used to achieve their goals, i.e.

compromise, confrontation

 Power : Social interactions and clashes she and others encountered;

how they navigated formal authority structures

Organizational

 Leadership development: Formal and informal efforts to train others about all the

points in #2

 Group formation: Did they form groups, i.e. ad hocs, teams, networks? What

impact did these groups have on grassroots leadership?

 Structures and culture: What about policies and practices (structures)? What

about norms and assumptions (culture)? How did these impact grassroots

leadership efforts?

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Obviously, the literature on academic labor justice not only reflects the climate in higher education but also has also shaped the growing activist movement among contingent faculty members.

Feminist Conceptualizations of Power

In my overview of the academic literature on contingent faculty, it is worth noting that feminist theory has not been used to study this population, despite the large numbers of women holding contingent faculty positions in academia. Therefore, for the purposes of this study, I adopted a broad view of feminism and grounded my research in feminism writ large to explore contingent women faculty members’ position in the academy, their turn to activism, and the ways that gender may have influenced their roles. In particular,

I used Amy Allen’s (1999) theory on feminist power to uncover the various conceptualization of power at work in the lives of contingent women faculty activists.

Tong (2009) and Scholz (2010) explained myriad feminist approaches that exist: liberal feminism, Marxist feminism, radical feminism, socialist feminism, ecofeminism, and postmodern feminism among others. I adopted a feminist stance in general for my study because, as Lather (1991) explained, critical [feminist] frames aid in understanding.

Unlike other forms of research which seek to “predict,” “understand,” or “emancipate,” the intent of post-structural [feminist] research is to “deconstruct” (p. 89). Lather said:

“Rather than opposing the researcher’s ‘correct’ reading against the student’s ‘mystified’ one, the deconstructive reading is more interested in a ‘suspicious’ reading” (p. 95). This is the approach that I brought to my study.

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For contingent women faculty, occupying a marginal space within their department and within the university positions them as other. To categorize a contingent woman faculty member as other---in opposition to the privileged position of full-time and

/or tenure track---is to relegate her both physically and symbolically to an academic underground, what Eveline and Booth (2004) called academe’s “ivory basement” (p.

246). Allen’s (1999) theory of feminist power enabled me to see the ways that gender has influenced contingent women faculty’s members positions of otherness and their decision to become activists in higher education,

A review of the literature on power reveals various configurations. Sawicki

(1991) explained the three central and traditional assumptions of power in political theory: (1) Power is possessed; (2) Power usually flows from top down and originates from a central source; (3) Power is mostly repressive (p. 20 ). Sawicki (1991) also said that “this model of power underpins both liberal theories of sovereignty… and Marxist theories which locate power in the economy and the state” (p. 20).

Foucault’s theory of power deviated from this traditional definition, viewing power as a productive force. In particular, Foucault’s definition of power separated it from political theory, and, according to Sawicki (1991), Foucault “proposes that we think of power outside the confines of state, law or class (p. 20). Specifically, Foucault’s conception of power was predicated on the following three points (Allan, Gordon, and

Iverson, 2006; Sawicki, 1991):

1. Power is exercised, not possessed

2. Power is more productive than repressive

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3. Power comes from the bottom up

Foucault’s conception of power decentralizes it. Weedon (1997) said Foucault’s theory of power shares much with postmodernism and poststructuralism: “For Foucault, power is not reducible to any one source, it is a relationship…” (p. 174). And, Sawicki

(1991) wrote that “Foucault’s ‘bottom-up’ analysis of power is an attempt to show how power relations at the microlevel of society make possible certain global effects of domination, such as class power and patriarchy” (p. 23).

However, Foucault’s theory is not without its flaws. He never considered a person’s ability to act, focusing only on people as the subjects of power. Butler (1993) significantly expanded upon his concept of power when she illuminated the complexities inherent in domination and resistance. She came up with the theory of “gender performativity,” focusing on what Allen (1999) said is “that which mediates between regulatory power and the individual subjects that are both produced and controlled, enabled and constrained by it” (p. 73). In her definition of power, Butler included agency and said that all subjects “cite” the sex and gender norms that constrain them. Thus,

Butler (1993) successfully managed to articulate what is in the middle or what comes between individuals and the sex/gender norms which oppress them. Foucault never discussed those mediating factors or agency.

Both Foucault and Butler emphasized the strategic use of power, not its role in communication and solidary. Butler (1993) seemed especially oblivious to collective action and feminist solidarity. That is what made Hannah Arendt’s theory of power appealing. Allen (1999) explained that Arendt has an “understanding of power as the

55 capacity to act in concert’ (p. 93). For Arendt, power was not only relational; it was also collective. This type of power, she believed, emerges when individuals are working together toward a goal. However, Arendt’s configuration of power seems too perfect, and Allen says it ignores “any negative sense of power, such as constraining the options of others or getting others to do what one wants” (p. 110).

Amy Allen’s (1999) feminist conception of power extended the theories put forth by Foucault, Butler, and Arendt, and it is Allen’s modalities of power that I chose to use in my dissertation study. According to Allen, her definition of power “provides a set of analytical tools that can help us make sense of the complex power relations at work” (p.

129). More precisely, she says that her conceptualization of power as “power-over,”

“power-to,” and “power-with” best addresses feminists’ interests in understanding domination, resistance, and solidarity (pp. 123-128 ). In particular, Allen articulated that a feminist conception of power must include the following three interrelated features:

1. An understanding of all systems of domination, including sexism, racism, and

class oppression. She called this "power over" and defined it “as the ability of

an actor or set of actors to constrain the choices available to another actor or

set of actors in a nontrivial way” (p. 123).

2. An understanding of the power that women have—empowerment—despite

and in response to domination. She called this "power to" and defined it “as

the ability of an individual actor to attain an end or series of ends” (p. 126).

3. An understanding of the power that women can execute collectively with each

other in social movements. She called this "power with" and defined it “as the

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ability of a collectivity to act together for the agreed-upon end of challenging,

subverting, and, ultimately, overturning a system of domination” (p. 127).

Allen (1999) believed that “power over,” “power to,” and “power with” are features of a feminist definition of power and “can accommodate feminists’ interests in understanding domination, resistance, and solidarity” (p. 127). For those very reasons, Allen’s definition of power and its corresponding modalities provided me with the best analytic tool to answer research question #2: how do the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align with feminist conceptualizations of power? This analytic framework also enabled me to see how the situations the activists described are powered in different ways.

Conclusion

This literature review demonstrates that research on contingent faculty in higher education lacks a theoretical focus and is dominated by deficit framing. Perhaps, too, the deficit-framed literature has been reinforced by contingent faculty members’ own self- perception and their de-valued role in the academy? Whatever the case, it is most definitely a diverse body of research, with newer studies focusing on academic labor justice and contingent faculty activism. The literature on contingent faculty activism intersects with the burgeoning literature on grassroots/bottom-up leadership in higher education. And theories of feminist power, especially Allen’s (1999) feminist modalities of power, can be used to illuminate the role of women as contingent faculty activists and grassroots leaders in the academy. The locus of my dissertation study is nested in the middle of three distinct bodies of literature (see Figure 1).

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Contingent Faculty Activism and Grassroots Leadership

Women as Feminist Contingent Conceptualizations Faculty CHAPTER IIIof Power

Figure 1. Conceptual Map

CHAPTER III

METHODOLOGY

Background

For more than a decade, a movement has been underway in U.S. higher education: contingent faculty members have turned to activism, using their voices and their collective power to speak out about equity issues and teaching/learning conditions on college campuses (Bousquet, 2006; Kezar & Lester, 20110). Schell (2000) reported that coalition building and organizing efforts among contingent faculty, many of whom are college composition instructors, have been taking place at many levels: campus, municipal, state wide, national, and international. This new academic labor movement stems from a problem in higher education: the increase in the number of contingent faculty members, coupled with their often poor working conditions and low wages.

In fact, more than 2/3 of all faculty members at U.S. institutions of higher education are contingent workers, and in some disciplines women are very likely to dominate these roles (Enos, 1996; Finley, 2008; Schell, 2000). Data from AAUP’s

Gender Equity Indicators (2006) suggested this growing trend has led to a smaller percentage of women in tenure-track faculty positions when compared to male faculty members who hold tenure-track positions. And, the study reported that this trend has led to fewer numbers of women occupying senior academic administration roles in higher education.

Finley (2008) asserted the overrepresentation of women in contingent faculty positions has been the overlooked piece of the puzzle in discussions of women’s lack of 58 59 advancement, creating not just a glass ceiling but a glass wall. As a whole, contingent faculty in higher education are constructed as the "other" and labeled with terms such as invisible faculty (Gappa, 1993), roads scholars, academic gypsies, and freeway flyers.

Women in contingent positions have been called “sad women in the basement” (Miller,

1993) and women teaching in “the kitchen” of the academy (Toth, 2007). However, the shift into activism is helping contingent faculty to re-write the narrative which positions them as outsiders. Through coalition building, unionizing efforts, and activism, counter narratives are being written.

Because women occupy so many part-time and non-tenure-track positions in the academy and because their continued presence in the contingent ranks threatens their status in the academy, the locus of this study is contingent women faculty activists.

Kezar and Sam (2010a, 2010b) asked why we need to understand contingent faculty.

Their answers to that question mirrored my reasons for conducting dissertation research on this population: More than 50% of faculty members are contingent, so we “need to understand more about them and their impact on the academy” (2010b, p. 3). The authors stated that because contingent faculty have the responsibility of teaching so many courses in higher education institutions, it is important to learn about them and to support them. Kezar and Sam (2010b) admonished readers, saying that to do otherwise “is at best reckless and at worst unethical” (p. 3).

In addition, they asserted that “deficit framing” has been overused to study contingent faculty: “Non-tenure-track faculty are studied for what they lack, not for the assets they have or the hurdles they overcome” (2010a, p. 38). Kezar and Sam (2010a)

60 wrote that studies which focus on resistance or on agency might give insight into the organizing work that is currently taking place, highlighting contingent faculty from a non-deficit perspective. Finally, the authors explained that one of the major drawbacks in research on contingent faculty is that “we have little research studying the experiences and voices of non-tenure-track faculty themselves” (2010a, p. 67).

All these statements point directly to the need for my study, which used feminist theory (not previously applied to studies of contingent faculty) and which focused on contingent women faculty (examining their experiences and voices). Furthermore, my study did not use deficit framing but instead showcased contingent women faculty activists as powerful grassroots leaders in higher education.

Research Questions

Specifically, this study sought to answer the following questions:

1. How do contingent women faculty activists describe their process of

becoming grassroots leaders, especially the personal and contextual factors

that impacted this process?

2. How do the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align

with feminist conceptualizations of power?

Research Design

This study is a feminist oral history. Berger Gluck wrote that “Women’s oral history is a feminist encounter, even if the interviewee is not herself a feminist. It is the creation of a new type of material on women; it is the validation of women’s experiences….” (in Armitage et al, 2002, p. 5). Women’s oral history makes women

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“historically visible” and is a methodology for studying women “because the lives, activities, and feelings of so many women have been overlooked and unrecorded”

(Armitage et al., 2002, p. 62). In addition, Reinharz (1992) says studying women’s biographies has always been an important feature of the women’s movement (p. 126).

For all these reasons, oral history coupled with a feminist lens proved to be a very good methodology for studying contingent women faculty activists.

It is important to note that oral history is both a process (which involves conducting and recording interviews) as well as a product (a narrative account or record that is interpreted). For researchers, this means that oral history is a both methodology and the results of that study (Abrams, 2010). Berger Gluck and Patai (1991) described three types of oral history---topical, biographical, autobiographical. My research most closely resembles the topical form because of its similarity to the open-ended interview.

Although oral history coupled with a feminist lens is the appropriate methodology for my study, feminist oral history remains out of the mainstream of academic research, and many research texts do not even discuss oral history as a methodology (Reinharz, 1992, p. 144).

Abrams (2010) explained that all oral histories exist in four forms, stating that the researcher “hears and reads different versions of the narrative using each to create another---the interpretation” (p. 9). Therefore, the topical oral history narratives that I collected existed in four forms:

1. The original oral interview

2. The recorded version of the interview

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3. The written transcript

4. The interpretation of the interview material

Oral history methodology is inter-subjective, meaning that the subjectivity of the researcher and the subjectivity of the interviewee combine to create an effect which

Abrams (2010) called a “collision” (p. 58). The interaction between the subjectivities of the researcher and the interviewee interact with and shape each other. For example, I was constructed as a doctoral student interested in feminist methodologies as well as a former part-time instructor by those whom I interviewed. Abrams explained “We accept that both parties are playing roles by drawing upon their pasts and their own context to project particular ‘selves’ or identities” (2010, p. 58). An oral history is not simply a straight-forward account of the past. Rather, these “memory stories,” as Abrams (2010) called them, are “creative narratives shaped in part by the personal relationship that facilitates the telling” (p. 58). Thus, the researcher-interviewee inter-subjectivity shapes the story being told.

Reinharz (1992) reminded readers that many feminist oral history studies focus on powerless women or on men who impacted women’s lives, but she also said some oral histories study well-educated women whose voices have not been heard (p. 143). My study of well-educated women in contingent faculty roles fits into this category of feminist oral history.

Theoretical Framework

Drawing on feminist conceptions of power (Allen, 1999) this oral history examines experiences of contingent women faculty activists, paying particular attention

63 to how they have used their voices and their collective power to impact change at the grassroots level. My study amplifies their voices, turning up the on their work as activists in the academy.

And, although “qualitative research” and “feminist research” are not synonymous, those who conduct feminist research often use qualitative methods. I wholeheartedly embrace qualitative research and know that a constructivist paradigm aligns with my beliefs and values as a researcher. In my dissertation research, using a constructivist paradigm enabled me to be subjective and to incorporate my feelings and emotions into the research process. Hatch (2002) agreed with this approach, asserting it is not

Possible—and not a good idea—for a researcher to be objective and distant. Rather, he said that by interacting and engaging with each other, the researcher and the participants in the study create a reality.

The tenets of feminist research undergirded my study: a focus on research problems that emerge from experience, a call to action, and a focus on the researcher-interviewee link. According to Campbell and Wasco (2000), “Feminist epistemologies… recognize women’s lived experiences as legitimate sources of knowledge. Feminist methodologies attempt to eradicate sexist bias in research and find ways to capture women’s voices that are consistent with feminist ideals” (p. 1). Feminist research is focused on giving voice to women who had previously been silenced. Fonow and Cook (1991) explained that the focus for feminist researchers is transparency (p.

2226). Key features of feminist research guided my approach: self-disclosure, empowerment of the interviewees who are the experts of their own lives, remaining

64 grounded in the personal, and writing myself into the research. For instance, my research questions, like those of other feminist researchers, emerged from my life. Because of my connection to the research topic, there is a bond between me and the women whom I interviewed, a bond that I have maintained since leaving the research site and which I hope to build upon in the future.

Harding (1987) argued that most social scientists focus on methods themselves, but the hallmarks of feminist research are not the methods but rather the methodology. In addition, the mere addition of women subjects to social science research projects does not constitute a feminist study either. Specific features define a feminist approach to research:

1 Research problems are generated from the perspective of women’s

experiences, taking into account there is no one “woman” nor one, universal

“woman’s experience” (Harding, 1987, p. 7). Feminist researchers want the

women in their studies to speak for themselves and to participate in the

process. Therefore, my main data source were interview transcripts of

contingent women faculty activists. Their words became the data that I

analyzed.

2 The researcher and the research operate on the same plane. Thus, researchers

are quite transparent, volunteering information about their race and class and

how it shaped the entire research project. This relationship leads naturally to a

discussion of both reflexivity and affect, both defining characteristics of

feminist research. With my interviewees, I was transparent about my own

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experiences of teaching English composition part time on two or three

campuses at once for a decade and how writing a dissertation about

contingency is my form of advocacy.

3 The research questions that are asked are as important as those that are not

asked. Reinharz (1992) wrote that feminist research is “the study of what is

missing” (p. 162). It has been interesting for me to ask “what is missing from

the body of research on women in higher education?” In other words, where

are the silences? Whose experiences have not been represented? Is there a

link between excluding women from research and excluding them from the

academy? I discovered that contingent women faculty activists have just

recently started to be studied; moreover, contingent faculty members in

grassroots leadership roles are just starting to be regarded as higher education

leaders (Kezar, 2012). Their voices and stories deserve to be heard, and

feminist research is focused on giving voice to women who represent those

who have previously been silenced.

4 Action (either political or policy creation) results from feminist research

(Fonow & Cook, 1991; Harding, 1987; Mies, 1991). There is always a praxis

component to feminist research, so it has the potential to be emancipatory. I

am hopeful that my research findings will contribute to discussions of

women’s roles in higher education and perhaps to policy revisions on

campuses.

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Ethical Considerations

In my research, I exposed my past experiences with contingency and revealed how my positionality both biases and advantages me. Takacs (2003) stated that each person’s unique identity shapes the construction of knowledge and reality. He challenged young scholars to identify their assumptions and to “question their own positionality” (p.

32). Takacs explained the role of identity in knowledge construction.

Kirsch (1999) also looked at positionality in feminist research and claimed that revealing one’s positionality is part of doing ethical research, influencing “how our research agenda, political commitments, and personal motivations shape our observations in the field, the conclusions we draw, and the research reports we write” (p. 14). My positionality as a researcher was closely linked to the ethical considerations of this study.

Positionality influences epistemology, so I think it’s important to be transparent about this and reflexive.

Moreover, as a researcher who embraced feminist methodologies, I was focused on “giving back” to interviewees in my study for sharing their time and their knowledge with me. Therefore, each interviewee in this study was compensated with a $60 personal check at the end of the interview. Five of the six interviewees accepted the check, and one refused payment. Financially compensating the interviewees was a small token of my appreciation, but upon completion of my dissertation research, I also plan to write on the topic of contingency, to present at local and national conferences, and to become involved in activist efforts. That is all part of my duty as a feminist researcher.

Angrosino (2007) said he believed researchers have an obligation to the people being

67 studied, an obligation that lingers long after one leaves the research site. Thompson

(2000) made it very clear that those who conduct oral history research have an ethical responsibility to give back to communities and to the people whose words helped to create the oral history (p. 257).

This study did not involve deception or sensitive aspects. In addition, privacy was not compromised in this interview study. However, I entered the interview sites fully aware that conversations might touch upon personal and painful topics, triggering uncomfortable feelings for the interviewees. Sure enough, several of the interviewees cried in my presence when we discussed their lives as contingent faculty members; a few became visibly angry when they reflected on the injustice of the situation. All interviewees were free to withdraw from the study at any time without penalty.

However, like me, they recognized the importance of this topic and were willing to share their insights and feelings.

Protecting Human Subjects with Oral History Projects

This oral history project was exempt from the human subjects approval, through the Institutional Review Board (IRB) process. The protection of informant identity is difficult in most oral history projects and with such a small sample, pseudonyms would most likely prove ineffective. Furthermore, in oral history research, confidentiality is not essential; in fact, one of the benefits of conducting such research is the pride that interviewees can take in having their stories recorded and recognized. The women in my study appreciated the use of full names in the write up of the findings; one interviewee

68 asked if I would include her photo, prompting me to solicit photos from all six interviewees [Appendix F].

Shopes (2009) said the practice of submitting detailed interview protocols to an

Institutional Review Board (IRB) is actually counter to the practice of conducting oral history research: “our inquiries are open-ended dialogues that cannot be confined to a prescripted set of questions and we do not always know in advance if an inquiry will enter into a sensitive area” (Shopes, 2009).

According to the Kent State University Institutional Review Board (IRB) guidelines, “oral histories were exempt, as traditional human subject protections, i.e. confidentiality, cannot be guaranteed [actually, any presumption of anonymity is counter to the methodology, since by design, the respondent is agreeing to have their story collected, and typically archived].” The Division of Research Compliance at Kent State determined that my project was exempt from IRB approval. I received an e-mail informing me “We have determined that the oral histories project is exempt from the

Federal Policy for the Protection of Human Subjects” (personal communication,

December 13, 2011). The Kent State University IRB says that biographies and oral histories, which record historical events and are designed solely to create a record of specific historical events, are not considered generalizable knowledge and are exempt.

Still, I honored the spirit of the consent process by having my interviewees review and sign an agreement [Appendix A] prior to the interviews.

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Sample

My sampling decisions, especially the number of activists I ultimately interviewed, were influenced by my data analysis techniques. I decided to use a narrative approach as one of my data analysis techniques because it is a popular methodology for oral historians (Abrams, 2010).

However, Abrams (2010) explained that all forms of narrative analysis “work best when applied to a single or a small number of texts. Narrative analysis is not practicable if applied to large collections of oral history data---the task becomes unmanageable. The result is that the oral historian becomes interested in micro-analysis of small numbers of testimonies, drawing conclusions with much wider ramifications” (p. 115). Therefore, based on this explanation, I decided to interview six contingent women faculty activists for my study.

Best Practices for Oral History stated that researchers should “choose potential interviewees based on the relevance of their experiences of the subject at hand” (Oral

History Association, 2009). For my oral history, I used a purposeful sampling to identify six contingent women faculty activists. The sample was drawn from multiple higher education institutions in the United States to increase the breadth of my findings. Six contingent women faculty members participated in the study. I established criteria for inclusion in the study which consisted of the following:

1. Women who self-identified as contingent faculty activists in U.S. higher

education

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2. Women who were currently involved in contingent faculty activism at

multiple levels: campus, state wide, national.

Individual, detailed biographies and photos of each woman who participated in this study are located in Appendix F. The interviewees included:

 Mayra Besosa, California State University, San Marcos

 Ana Maria Fores Tamayo, Tarrant County College (formerly)

 Jeanette Jeneault, Syracuse University

 Maria Maisto, New Faculty Majority and Cuyahoga Community College

 Marcia Newfield, City University of New York (CUNY), Manhattan

 Karen Thompson, Rutgers University

Several of the interviewees in my study (Jeanette Jeneault, Maria Maisto, and

Marcia Newfield) served as informants, leading me to the other interviewees (Mayra

Besosa and Karen Thompson). A staff member at AAUP also served as an informant and reviewed my final list of oral history interviewees and suggested other contingent faculty activists whom I might consult as back-up interviewees. I reviewed that list when I encountered difficulty in arranging an interview with one of the women on my original list. At that point in my research process, I turned to snowball sampling to identify another contingent faculty activist and was led to Ana Maria Fores Tamayo.

Prior to the start of my dissertation research, I communicated with all six women via e-mail and had already met two of them in person; all agreed to participate in the study. Oral history methodology proved to be a good method because I disclosed not only the names of my sample but also their background information and life histories.

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Shopes (2009) says “requiring anonymity violates a fundamental principle of oral history.

For historians, anonymous sources lack credibility---knowing the identity of an interviewee allows the historian to gauge that person’s relationship to the topic at hand.

. . .” (Shopes, 2009).

Oral History Interviews: Structure and Style

My oral history interviews resembled what Berger Gluck and Patai (1991) called the “topical interview,” meaning that instead of gathering an entire life story, I had a specific focus (work life) in order to get information about certain work-related events

(activism). An important consideration for me was the construction of interview questions. Abrams (2010) wrote that an oral history narrative is often “constructed” or shaped by the researcher who writes the questions and asks them in a certain order (p.

108). Therefore, it is imperative that researchers allow interviewees to shape the narrative instead of shaping it themselves. Following these guidelines made it easier for me to do a narrative analysis on the interview data because the structure in the transcripts that I analyzed was not pre-determined by me and was not influenced by the order of the questions that I selected.

Although I entered each site with a list of questions and talking points [Appendix

D], I allowed the interviewees to tell the narrative of their lived experiences as contingent faculty activists rather than asking them questions which conformed only to my research agenda and the aims of my study. Overall, it was important for me to remember that each interviewee had the chance to guide the interview and could speak about issues and experiences that were important to her as an activist. Berger Gluck (1991) cautioned oral

72 historians, saying that if we ignore this important point and make our own questions take over the interview, the oral history will be “defined not by the values and rhythm of the individual’s life, but by the perspective that we bring about women, about class, about race” (in Armitage et al., 2002, p. 14).

My interview style was influenced by Abrams’ (2010) comments about the open-ended nature of oral history projects: “…few interviews stick to the script the researcher has set and new avenues for research are constantly being introduced by the respondent” (p. 29). Therefore, I crafted an open-ended list of questions and talking points, all of which left space for digression or elaboration, and I tried to vary the order of talking points at each interview [Appendix D].

Berger Gluck (1991) said the best interviews often resemble monologues in which the interviewee tells her story while the researcher simply listens, nods, smiles, and asks intelligent follow-up questions (in Armitage et al., 2002, p. 13). But she also reminded researchers there is not “. . . one perfect method of collecting oral histories” (in Armitage et al., 2002, p. 8). Rather, the process is tailored to fit the interviewee to whom the researcher will be speaking. Speers (2002) said that the ideal feminist interview should be “naturalistic,” almost like a conversation, and that data analysis should not reflect the researcher’s agenda and categories. Data analysis should “instead consider what is going on from a member’s perspective” (p. 785).

Susan Chase (in Abrams, 2010.) summarized my approach when she gave the following advice to oral historians (p. 124):

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1. Allow interviewees to tell the story they want to tell rather than interrupting

them to shape the narrative into the form I desire or to meet my research

needs.

2. Craft the questions so that they tap into the interviewee’s experiences rather

than what I, as the researcher, perceive to be the correct answer

3. Ask questions that relate to life experiences and elicit narrative responses

rather than questions that require a certain type of answer.

As the principle investigator, I contacted the interviewees, and prior to each tape-recorded interview, I followed the systematic process outlined below:

1. Had a pre-interview phone conversation with all six interviewees in

the study: 3 minutes - 35 minutes in length, depending on the interviewee and

how long she wished to talk. This helped me to establish rapport with them.

A pre-interview is advised in the Best Practices for Oral History which tells

researchers to conduct a non-recorded, pre-interview with interviewees to

review the purpose of the study as well as the interviewee’s rights (Oral

History Association, 2009)

2. E-mailed a post-phone call / pre-interview demographic questionnaire to

all six interviewees in the study: purpose of study date, time, location,

compensation, interviewees’ rights, etc. [Appendix C]

3. Made travel arrangements to meet each interviewee in person. Because the

interviewees in my study live throughout the United States, I traveled to their

hometowns (or to a mutually agreed-upon location) to speak to them in person

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4. Captured all six interviews with a digital recorder, a hand-held

microphone, and a back-up cassette recorder

5. E-mailed completed interview transcriptions to each participant for feedback

and edits

6. Had follow-up e-mail communication with all six interviewees about the

transcriptions

In addition, I asked each interviewee in my study to read and sign a consent form, which

I adopted from the one designed by Berger Gluck [Appendix A].

Feminist researchers are motivated by the desire to let the women in their studies speak for themselves, making them part of the research process. This approach differs sharply from traditional research methodologies. Jayaratne and Stewart (1991) said the more traditional approaches continue to support sexist attitudes: feelings are ignored in the research process, the values of the researcher are not considered, and elements of and control are very important. The authors advocated for sex-fair research that will improve the lives of women.

Many writers have also discussed the role of relationship building in feminist research. Reinharz (1992) explained feminist interviewing and how it is interviewee- driven. She wrote about the role of relationship building in feminist research, with emphasis on disclosure, trust and openness. Reinharz (1992) believed this behavior leads to meaningful data and outcomes, commenting on how researchers are changed as a result of these relationships. Fonow and Cook (1991) discussed the benefits and drawbacks of feminist methodology, one being “the higher quality of information

75 possible as a result of mutual disclosure” (p. 10). Thus, when a researcher opens up in an interview, the interviewee often feels free to disclose information about themselves. I am confident that was the case in my study. Feminist methodology also has a therapeutic value to interviewees, and Fonow and Cook (1991) claim this feature just might be a special hallmark of a feminist epistemology.

McElrath (2001), who has conducted both quantitative and qualitative research, wrote about the importance of credibility when conducting interviews: “Credibility is an important factor in the development of trust and rapport” (McElrath, 2001, p. 4). She used techniques such as self-revelation during the interview process. These included talking about her own experimentation with drugs and even bringing her young child along to the interview site to help her to bridge the gap between researcher and interviewee. These inherently feminist techniques enabled her to collect better data.

From the first phone conversation with each interviewee, I disclosed my past as a contingent faculty member, both the shame and the glory. I realized that it was important for me to balance my disclosure and not risk directing the conversation by focusing too much on my own experiences and perceptions, but I shouldn’t have worried because that was never the case. The contingent faculty activists in my study were talkative and outspoken and very willing to speak about their experiences, and some asked questions about my life and my experiences which I answered.

To create my interview questions and talking points [Appendix D], I used the

Resources section of Women’s Oral History (Armitage et al., 2002). However, I deviated from the questions and purposely shifted their order when I conducted interviews.

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Armitage et al. (2002) agreed with this approach, explaining “This variability is what makes it [oral history interview] different from the standardized interviews used by social scientists” (p. 13). I also incorporated the advice below from my dissertation committee into my interview questions / talking points [Appendix D]:

1. Avoid questions about voice and silence. Instead, just listen if interviewees

discuss situations involving using their voice or speaking out

2. Keep questions open ended to see what emerges

3. Don't ask about the role of gender early on. Instead, save any questions

related to gender for the end of the conversation. Interviewees may mention

gender themselves earlier in the interview.

Finally, Angrosino (2007) advocated an interview style that is similar to the life history technique used by historians because it “provides a way for those previously marginalized and rendered voiceless…to put their stories on the record” (p. 46). He added that open-ended interviewing allows for digressions and new “avenues of inquiry”

(pp. 42-43). Therefore, I often went off script and allowed my interviewees to venture into topics that were not part of the interview protocol or talking points [Appendix D]. In one case, an interviewee asked me to turn off the tape recorder so that she could discuss a particularly touchy subject that she experienced as a contingent faculty member. That digression, of course, did not find its way into this study.

Data Management

I did not use pseudonyms in my write up and did not maintain interviewees’ anonymity. Therefore, all interviewees are fully identifiable. This is the hallmark of oral

77 history research. Audio consent forms and interview tapes are stored in my private office at home. I will continue to retain possession of all tapes and the accompanying transcripts indefinitely. However, I do plan to make copies of the tapes and to eventually turn the originals over to an archival repository.

In addition, I decided to collect photographs of each activist although my oral history project analyzes only the spoken words (transcripts) of the interviewees. I know that collecting photographs is a good idea because they may be archived, along with the tape recordings, in a library or repository. Thompson states that such items could also be used for “…an effective exhibition” (p. 203). Oral histories that are accompanied by photos bring the narratives to life and provide more information for the researcher

(Armitage et al., 2002; Reinharz, 1992). A few of the interviewees arrived at our session with artifacts, either newsletters featuring them or articles they had authored. However, I did not study and analyze artifacts.

Thus far, I have identified one possible repository for my research. The

Conference on College Composition and Communication (CCCC) has an active committee devoted to the Status of Women in the Profession. This committee has been gathering interviews for the Women’s Lives in the Profession Project. Because some of the activists whom I plan to interview are also current or former English composition instructors, I may give CCCC access to my audio tapes upon completion of my dissertation. As per my e-mail correspondence with Dr. Eileen Schell of Syracuse

University, an online archive was in the process of being created three years ago:

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July 14, 2010

I also would like to stay in touch with you about a project the CCCC Committee on the

Status of Women in the Profession is doing about women’s work narratives. We are collecting the work narratives of women who teach comp—tenure-track, part-time and non-tenure-track, grad students, and others. I can send you some more information about that. It’s basically collecting oral history narratives, videos, self-surveys. For more, see: http://www.ncte.org/cccc/committees/statusofwomen/startupkit

And also for some sample interviews, see http://www.ncte.org/cccc/committees/statusofwomen/sampleinterviews

We have yet to establish the online archive space for this project, but we are planning to do that this summer.

This e-mail exchange was promising, for it provided me with a long-term goal: making my oral histories of contingent women faculty activists part of the CCCC repository.

Analytic Process: Question #1

Abrams’ (2010) review of various models of oral history helped me to clarify my analytic approach. She explained that a theoretical approach to oral history is one that is interpretive, meaning that researchers apply an analytical model to the interview text; an evidential approach to oral history is one that gathers information, meaning that researchers use oral testimony as data. In my dissertation research, I combined theoretical insights with evidential insights, a method that Abrams says is “an intermediary and much more widespread approach” (p. 15).

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How exactly did I execute this theoretical and evidential approach? Armitage et al. (2002) wrote that oral historians must use some of the social science methodologies to make projects “useful,” allowing oral historians to compare findings with those of other historical sources (p. 69). With that advice in mind, I conducted two types of data analysis in my dissertation, one method for each research question as the table below describes:

Table 2. Data Analysis: Analytic Process

Research Questions Type of Analysis Theorist Guiding Data Source Analysis Question #1 Bricolage: Coding + Miles and Interview Narrative Analysis Huberman (1994); Transcripts + Feminist Analysis Abrams (2010); Clandinin and Connelly (2000); Chanfrault-Duchet (in Abrams, 2010); Question #2 Analysis of Allen (1999) Interview Feminist Modalities Transcripts of Power

My data set consisted of six oral histories which I analyzed. Merriam (2002) suggested a process whereby researchers simultaneously collect data and analyze data, an analytic process that is recursive and ongoing. I adopted such a system for my data analysis. Below are the steps I took to respond to each research question as well as the rationale for each method.

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RQ #1: How do contingent women faculty members describe their process of becoming activists leaders, especially the personal and contextual factors that impacted this process?

During data analysis, I became a bricoleur, the French term for a

"do-it-yourselfer" or what we call a "jack of all trades" in English. The expression "Ça fait un peu de bricolage" translates to "it's a bit of a mish-mash," but for qualitative research it actually means combining a few methodological approaches to answer a research question (Kincheloe, 2001). Denzin and Lincoln (2003) are in favor of this approach and recommend bricolage for qualitative researchers: "The qualitative researcher-as-bricoleur uses the tools from his or her methodological trade, deploying whatever strategies, methods, or empirical materials are at hand" (p. 3). My question guided me, and I found that a combination of approaches best helped me to answer it.

Therefore, for RQ #1, I combined Miles and Huberman's (1994) approach to coding qualitative data + Clandenin and Connelly's (2000) and Chanfrault-Duchet (in Abrams,

2010) advice on narrative analysis + feminist analysis. It was not a linear process, and I used all three methods from my toolkit to best answer the question.

I suppose one might argue that sticking with an established methodological tradition (like narrative inquiry) provides certain guidelines. I didn't have that in my study; oral history is broad. The technique called bricolage worked for RQ#1. As

Kincheloe (2001) explained “there is a synergy that emerges in the use of different methodological and interpretive perspectives in the analysis of an artifact” (p. 686).

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Using various methods—in this case coding, narrative analysis, feminist analysis—made the interpretation of the data richer and more nuanced.

After data collection was completed, it was my job as the researcher to unearth the meaning in the oral histories that I had collected and to make sense of what the experiences meant to the participants in my study. Although narrative analysis is used most frequently to study oral histories, Abrams (2010) articulated there is no right way to do narrative analysis and no “disciplinary consensus” about the best approaches (pp.

114-115). Some researchers study language and syntax while others look at the shape and form of the narrative. What is most important is for oral historians to dig beneath the surface to see how interviewees make sense of their experiences. Below I explain my analytic process for RQ #1.

Conducted an Inductive Reading

I turned to Miles and Huberman (1994) to guide the data analysis and coding process. I first read and re-read interview transcripts to see if patterns emerged, seeking to uncover repetitive words and phrases and to make sense of interviewees’ experiences.

Abrams (2010) said that word repetition, direct speeches, pauses, and silences are all communication strategies---and all these elements shape the meaning of the narrative. In my data analysis, I wanted to search for what Clandinin and Connelly (2000) explain as

“patterns, narrative threads, tensions, and themes” (2000). To accomplish this, I first conducted a holistic analysis of content, what Leiblich et al. (1998) call a “global impression” (156). Because a person’s memories are valuable, a researcher must pay

82 attention to what a person chooses to reveal and how this memory shapes their present situation (Leiblich et al., 1998).

Conducted Open Coding

I decided to code data by hand instead of using coding software (e.g., NVivo) so that my findings would be generated by what I brought to the study rather than focused on quantitative word counts so common in coding software. More specifically, I did a vertical reading of each oral history and coded each and every line in the interview transcript. Prior to beginning the coding process, I developed a short list of pre-determined (a priori) codes. This list was connected to existing literature on contingent faculty as well as my research questions and included the following terms:

 family

 gender

 money / financial

 motivation

Using colored pens, I next did line-by-line coding of all six interview transcripts

(more than 300 pp.), writing codes in the margins of the transcripts. Upon completion of the coding process, I had a long list of approximately 145 initial codes. Closely examining the content of the narratives and looking at all codes is important because the content of a story reveals the storyteller’s “way of knowing” and the sense-making process that storytellers use to make sense of their lives (Hatch and Wisniewski, 1995).

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Clustered Emerging Themes into Categories of Significance

Next, upon completion of initial coding in all six interview transcripts, I did a horizontal reading where I looked across all six interview transcripts to see if the list of initial codes fit into a structure. Merriam (2002) advises researchers to determine

“categories of significance” that do not just describe but also interpret, stating that the same process should be followed for subsequent interviews, using the constant comparison method. Miles and Huberman (1994) talked about accounting sheets to deal with coding, so I created my own version to track the codes that I generated and to see how those codes fit into a structure. This simple sheet helped me to collapse codes into categories of significance. I coded data in the six interview transcripts and then created code tables which enabled me to examine codes that emerged across all six transcripts.

After determining which codes were most prevalent, I collapsed the list of initial codes into categories of significance based on commonality, searching for emerging themes that surfaced in all six interviewees' stories.

Double Checked the Finalized Codes

Lastly, I re-visited each of the interview transcripts once again, and I re-read them with the finalized set of codes that I developed. Those themes comprise the findings in chapter 4. Contradictory codes were examined, and transcripts were re-visited. This systematic process enabled me to respond to question #1, which focuses on the personal and contextual factors that influenced the interviewee’s development as contingent faculty activists.

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Used Narrative Analysis

Next, I used narrative analysis to study the words that re-occurred in each interviewee’s story. Clandinin and Connelly (2000) explained this as looking for threads and themes and tensions---and any patterns in the story. By using narrative analysis and looking closely at words and phrases, I was able to understand how the interviewees' see themselves as women and as contingent faculty. Chanfrault-Duchet (in Abrams, 2010) emphasized that researchers should study the content of an oral history, especially what she terms “key phrases,” and describes the importance of such an approach to a feminist analysis in particular:

Within the framework of the female life story, such phrases aim to express the

image of the self the interviewee intends to provide, as viewed through the

distance between, or conformity to, the image of woman that is in current use in

her family circle or social group, on the one hand, and the hegemonic social

model on the other. (Berger Gluck & Patai, p. 80)

Incorporated Feminist Methodologies

Finally, I used feminist methodologies throughout this not-so-linear process. Anderson et al. (2004) discussed the use of feminist methodologies to analyze and interpret oral history data: “Looking closely at the language and the particular meanings of important words women use to describe their experiences allows us to understand how women are adapting to the culture within which they live” (p. 224). This was an important part of my data analysis to answer RQ #1 because the words that women in my study used to describe their experiences shed light on what Anderson et al.

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(2004) called “the social forces and the ideas affecting them” (p. 224). By incorporating a feminist lens, I was then able to create an interpretation of the interview data—something separate from the recorded and transcribed oral histories. Anderson et al. (2004) cautioned that data analysis is not an easy task:

From the point of view of feminist scholarship on women, therefore, oral history

should involve more than simply gathering accounts from informants. . . . These

bits of evidence we collect—subjectively reconstructed lives—contain with them

formidable problems of interpretation. (p.108)

Chanfrault-Duchet agreed: “From the perspective of a feminist methodology, this situation draws particular attention to the fact that, in women’s life stories, the social self does not merely occupy a place within the social order; rather, its place is overdetermined by the status of woman” (in Berger Gluck and Patai, 2001, p. 78). This means the narratives of contingent woman faculty are shaped not only by their role as activists but, more importantly, by their role as women in the academy. Incorporating bricolage into my study---coding + narrative analysis + feminist analysis----allowed me to uncover themes and to answer RQ #1.

Analytic Process: Question #2

RQ #2: How do the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align with feminist conceptualizations of power?

I used conceptualizations of power as a theoretical framework in my study to answer RQ #2 because an analysis of power is central to feminist research. In particular,

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I wanted to uncover the role of power in the lives of these contingent faculty activists.

Examining the interview transcripts relative to feminist modalities of power revealed how the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align with the various conceptualizations of power. I believe that Allen’s (1999) feminist theory of power enhanced and complicated my overall analysis of the data. Below are the steps I followed:

Conducted an Inductive Reading

I was especially interested in the situations and relationships described by the contingent faculty activists in my study. Allen (1999) believed that power is always exercised in relation. Therefore, in this first step, I read and re-read interview transcripts to see if patterns emerged and tried to uncover repetitive words and phrases. In particular, I paid close attention to situations and relationships described by the contingent women faculty activists, especially those that exposed the various modalities articulated by Allen (1999): “power-over” (masculine domination), “power-to”

(feminine empowerment and resistance), and “power-with” (feminist solidarity and coalition building).

Aligned Experiences with Feminist Modalities of Power

I matched the narrative descriptions of situations described by the women in my study (i.e., moving into activism, using their voices, negotiating relationships in higher education) with the multiple conceptualizations of power articulated by Allen (1999).

Allen wrote that her definition of power provides “a feminist conception of power that can illuminate the complex and multifarious relations of domination, resistance, and

87 solidarity with which feminism is concerned” (p. 135). For this reason, it was the best conceptualization of power to use as an analytic tool to in my oral history study of contingent women faculty members. I aligned the situations revealed in the interviews with Allen’s modalities of power: power over, power to, and power with.

Conducted an Inductive Analysis

In this step of the analytic process, I returned to the interview transcripts to uncover what else exists. Allen (1999) discussed methodological approaches to studying power. One such approach, the background perspective, “focuses on the complex social relations that ground every particular power relation” (p. 131). She said that power is found in the context of social relations----and it is in those relations that power “is actually constituted as a power relationship” (p. 127). Therefore, by using Allen’s background perspective, it was possible to examine the relationships that exist between contingent faculty members and others, paying attention to how these relations become what Allen calls “power-ed” (p. 131).

Identified Other Aspects that Influence Modalities of Power

Allen (1999) says that all power relationships are complex and must be considered as existing within a broader social context. For this reason, I not only identified the modalities of power in situations; I determined which aspect(s) caused a situation to become powered:

Subject positions of the actors? It was interesting for me to see how each interviewee positioned herself depending on the context that she is describing. Allen

(1999) said that “…particular women can be positioned differently within the context of

88 one and the same norm, practice, or institution” (p. 132). One’s subject position will ultimately influence the power dynamics in any relationship.

Culturally encoded meanings? I examined how, and if, the contingent women faculty activists in my study use and define terms such as femininity, masculinity, and even sexuality. Power relationships in every context are influenced by the meaning that people give to these terms. Allen (1999) said that a feminist conceptualization of power must consider how the meanings of these terms may be altered by race, ethnicity, class, and sexual orientation.

Social practices that reinforce the domination of women? How a person defines terms such as femininity and masculinity in the point above also influences their social practices. Allen wrote that if a woman has internalized the word feminine to mean passive, for example, she may be more likely to accept a subordinate position or not assert her needs in a marriage, for instance. (p. 133). Therefore, I was attuned to the meanings that interviewees in my study gave to terms such as femininity---and how their definitions influenced their social practices.

Institutional structures that reinforce the domination of women? I was very interested to learn how, and if, the institutional context—the college or university—influenced the power relations described by the interviewees in my study.

Allen (1999) explained that “Institutions may reinforce and uphold power relations by endorsing specific understandings of femininity or masculinity, or by encouraging or forbidding particular practices” (p. 134).

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Deep structures? I examined how, and if, the women in my study reflected on the ways that power relationships structure other aspects of their lives. Being contingent women faculty members in somewhat low-status fields has implications which Allen

(1999) explained. She said that having a low-paying and low-status occupation

“. . . .structures the possibilities for the kinds of dyadic power relations individuals can have, the kinds of subject-positions available for them to occupy . . .” (p. 135).

Bias

The questions I asked and the claims I made reflect my worldview and impacted my study. Laying bare my research assumptions has helped me to make them conscious rather keeping them hidden. Olesen (2008), in Early Millennial Feminist Qualitative

Research, said “the researcher, too, has attributes; characteristics; a history; and gender, class, race, and social attributes that enter the research interaction” (p. 327). What this means is that I, as the principal researcher, brought my background, beliefs, race, lifestyle to each researcher-interviewee interaction.

I was confronted with the role of bias early on as I began data collection. It was evident that my insider standpoint as a part-time writing instructor in the 1990s led not only to my choice of a dissertation topic but enabled me to develop a strong and easy rapport with the women in my study during data collection. However, my current role as a staff member (Academic Program Coordinator) in an academic unit for almost 13 years has made me an outsider in some ways, too, causing me to identify with my departmental and college leadership team, especially decisions made to staff classes weeks before the start of the term and decisions to hire or to terminate part-time instructors, both of which

90 favorably impact program finances in many cases. Overall, this insider-outsider standpoint has provided a rich framework in which to ground my research, but has also been a source of much internal conflict.

To address the bias I brought to the study, reflexivity played a key role in my research. Fonow and Cook (1991) defined reflexivity as “…the tendency of feminists to reflect upon, examine critically, and explore analytically the nature of the research process” (p. 2), while Denzin (1997) said reflexivity is “the process of critical self-reflection on one’s biases, theoretical predispositions, preferences” (p. 224).

Reflexivity involves the close consideration of my role as a researcher and how it reveals itself in my questions, my data collection, and my data analysis.

In particular, reflexive journal writing played an important role in my research. I used a journal throughout the dissertation writing process to trace my growth as a researcher, to track the evolution in my thinking, and to clarify the research problem and research questions. By continuing to maintain a journal during both data collection and data analysis, I gained an awareness of myself as an integral part of the research. Among other things, reflexive researchers focus on affect and pay close attention to their emotions, for these emotions may lead to greater insights during the research process.

Acknowledging emotions and having empathy and concern allowed me to have partial identification with those in my study. As a result, I examined the assumptions I brought to this study and questioned my positionality (Takacs, 2003).

Becker (1967) approached the issue of bias from an ethical standpoint, encouraging researchers to see all points of view and to honor and accurately represent the voices of

91 interviewees in one’s study. In particular, his constructionist approach to bias cautioned against privileging one voice or one point of view over another. Becker (1967) discussed the “hierarchy of credibility” (p. 243), exploring the power structures that are inherent in qualitative research (especially case studies and ethnographic research): “we provoke the charge of bias, in ourselves and others, by refusing to give credence and deference to an established status order, in which knowledge of truth and the right to be heard are not equally distributed” (pp. 241-42). In my dissertation research, my methods have been rigorous and systematic and that I have addressed and dealt with issues of bias and subjectivity.

Validity

As a qualitative researcher, I believe that validity is an ideal that cannot be reached, but I still incorporated methods into my study to check facts and interviewees’ quotes from the collected data. This study used both “transactional validity” and

“transformational validity” (Cho & Trent, 2006). Transactional validity “consists of techniques or methods by which misunderstandings can be adjusted and thus fixed” (Cho

& Trent, 2006, p. 322). The interviewees in this study were concerned with the accuracy of their statements in both the interview transcripts and the findings, so I sent them the transcription shortly after the completion of the interview, and I sent them chapter 4, which included many quotes.

In order to ensure a modicum of transactional validity, I incorporated the following into my analysis of the data:

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Peer Debriefing: Felicia Black, an EHHS doctoral student who also used a feminist theoretical framework in her study, served as my peer debriefer, providing feedback on the findings chapter of my study. Lincoln and Guba (1985) were adamant about the importance of peer debriefing. While I was not striving for objectivity, I valued having a sounding board and a “devil’s advocate” to ensure I had sufficient evidence to justify my analytic claims and assertions (Rubin & Rubin, 2005, p. 208).

Thick Description: Another way in which I addressed validity was by incorporating what Geertz (1994) referred to as “thick description.” Although he was targeting ethnographic researchers, his comments apply to anyone who aims to conduct first-rate qualitative research. As Geertz (1994) explained, “The aim is to draw large conclusions from small, but very densely textured facts” (p. 229). This occurs when the findings are presented in “…their complex specificness, their circumstantiality” (p. 226).

Thick descriptions are rich, sensory descriptive passages which allow readers to step into new worlds and to understand what is happening in those new worlds. As a qualitative researcher, it is my task to construct meaning and make sense of complex situations.

Thick description is a feature of strong qualitative writing which will help to transport my readers into a different world.

Reflexive Journaling: I kept an e-journal to document my subjective responses to the interviewees’ comments and to my thoughts about contingency in higher education.

E-mail exchanges to my dissertation advisor and e-mails sent to myself also helped me to unpack my feelings about the contingent women faculty activists' stories. Thus, the analysis was shaped by reflexivity.

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Establishing Trust: Polkinghorne (2007) wrote that building trust is very important through multiple interviews. Fonow and Cook (1991) asserted that feminist research should be founded on a relationship of trust between the researcher and interviewee and should be participatory.

In the context of my study, transformational validity proved to be more important.

Cho and Trent wrote that “transformational validity” is emancipatory, helping to raise consciousness about an oppressed group. In this case, the voices and the achievements of contingent women faculty members in my study challenged the perceptions and the stigma the surrounds this group in higher education. Cho and Trent claimed that “In order for authentic change to occur, collaborative relationships between researcher and researched should be manifested during (and after) the research process (p. 331).

Write Up

The interviewees in my study had an opportunity to tell their stories about the contingent faculty working conditions that ultimately led them to activism. However, their stories were part of a much larger narrative about women in the academy, about using one’s voice, about leadership, about power, and about collective action and solidarity among contingent faculty. I worked diligently to honor their voices when I wrote up the findings of my study.

As I analyzed data and wrote, I explored the intersection of gender, power, voice, and visibility, studying how these elements influenced the activists in my study. Abrams

(2010) cautioned researchers to “…be aware that the academic oral historian is wielding a power here---consuming and then transforming others’ narratives” (p. 129). I was

94 always aware of my power as a researcher. I took my responsibility seriously, knowing that I had power as someone who heard the stories of the contingent women faculty activists and then interpreted what I heard and wrote about it.

Although I coded the interview transcripts and uncovered categories of significance, the spotlight was definitely not on me, the researcher. Instead, the voices of my interviewees---their experiences in the academy, their thoughts about contingent faculty activism---shared the stage with my voice as I made sense of their stories.

Member Checking

The last step in my analytic process, after I analyzed the data and wrote up the findings, was member checking with a doctoral-student peer and with the six interviewees in my study. The type of member checking that I conducted is what Cho and Trent described as “ongoing (sustained over time, multiple researcher/informant contacts” (p. 335). My decision to incorporate member checking into my process was influenced by Polkinghorne (2007), who wrote about narrative research, and is an advocate of member checking as are Lincoln and Guba (1985) who stated that it is an important technique to establish both credibility and trustworthiness. Cancian (1996), too, wrote “Participatory research projects give the people being studied substantial involvement in and control over the research” (p. 628), adding that member checking involves “shifting the privileged interpretive framework from the researcher to the object of research” (p. 74).

At this stage, chapter 4 was e-mailed to a doctoral student peer and to the six women who participated in this study. My intention was to solicit feedback on the

95 themes that I uncovered during data analysis and to give interviewees an opportunity to verify their direct quotes. Four of the six interviewees participated; two provided holistic comments about the study, and all four clarified statements they made during the interview, making grammatical edits. Member checking did not reveal any incongruity between the data collected and the interpretations. The interviewees were very concerned with the image of themselves that would appear in my dissertation, so they frequently corrected word choices or clarified statements they had made. They also corrected inaccuracies that were in the transcription itself. None of these changes, though, altered my analysis, and neither my peer reviewer nor the interviewees who read chapter 4 challenged my findings.

I was pleased because I entered this phase fully aware of the potential conflicts that I might encounter in the process of co-creating knowledge. I feared that my subjectivity would collide with that of my informants. Abrams (2010) stated that participants are not only recounting a series of events from their lives but, more importantly, they are telling the interviewer about themselves and how they position themselves in the world. This raises interpretation issues, which Borland (1991) addressed when she questions how researchers should balance their own interpretation of a narrative while also respecting the speaker.

Moreover, I was hesitant to enter this stage of the research process because although I intended to honor the voices of the interviewees, I knew that I wanted the freedom to interpret their stories. Berger Gluck and Patai (1991) discussed making meaning in collaboration, something that is necessary when two subjectivities---that of

96 the researcher and that of the participant----collide. I also agree with Borland (1991) when she said “I am not suggesting that all differences of perspective…should or can be worked out before the final research product is composed” (p. 73). Despite these potential pitfalls, I still looked forward to an open exchange with each interviewee in my study, knowing full well that I would initiate a discussion of any interpretive conflict that might arise.

Lather (1991), too, in writing about feminist ethnography, said “….I refuse to play the expert and explain the women’s lives” (p. 215). She does this by giving to interviewees’ experiences and “avoiding the position of the grand theorist and master interpreter” (p. 215). Borland (1991) discussed interpretive conflict in oral history research and asked how researchers could “…present our work in a way that grants the speaking woman interpretive respect without relinquishing our responsibility to provide our own interpretation of her experience” (p. 64). Borland (1991) also addressed interpretive authority in an oral history project. Open exchange between researcher and interviewee are keys to both problems as she explains

I stopped member checking once I shifted into chapter 5. At this point, I made a conscious decision to transition my relationship with the six contingent faculty activists from that of a researcher-interviewee relationship to that of colleagues who would be interacting professionally at the conclusion of my dissertation. This new relationship has already begun. For example, at the end of the member checking phase, Marcia Newfield suggested that I attend COCAL 2014 in Manhattan, and Maria Maisto of New Faculty

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Majority suggested that several women who subscribe to ADJ-l might participate in a working group on women as contingent faculty.

Limitations

As I conducted my pilot study I recognized a limitation that also carries over to this dissertation study: I may be able to theoretically generalize the findings of my study to contingent women faculty at comparable universities who have also engaged in activism or organizing, coalition building, and unionizing efforts. In addition, other limitations exist. For instance, this study did not examine the intersection of race and gender and how that combination may impact power relations. Along the same lines, the study did not include a Black woman activist, though I used snowball sampling to identify a Black contingent woman faculty activist (from southern California), but she did not respond to my e-mail request for an interview. It may have been interesting to problematize my research questions by including a Black contingent woman faculty member, exploring her experiences and how she describes herself as both an activist and a change agent in contrast to the White women in the study.

Another limitation exists regarding this study’s scope of feminist power. My research looked at how activists’ experiences aligned with Allen’s (1999) feminist modalities of power, including building bridges and creating solidarity: “power with.”

However, the study didn’t go beyond that to explore the difficulties that collective actors may encounter in trying to implement “power with.” All the interviewees spoke about collective action, bridge building, and solidarity, but I realize there is more to it than

98 simply collective “grrl power.” However, the research questions in this study did not permit an exploration of those challenges.

Another limitation involves sampling decisions. The criteria established in this study resulted in a sample of very high-profile contingent women faculty activists, working toward equity at all levels: campus, state, and national. Many had lists of publications and presentations, and a few were accustomed to speaking to doctoral students and journalists about contingency in higher education. Because of my sampling decisions, the voices and the experiences of lesser-known adjunct activists remain unheard---for example, the woman who may be organizing a Campus Equity Event at her institution. She is still invisible. This study did not look at activists working solely on campus initiatives or the adjunct activist without a national reputation, and that is a limitation.

Finally, using oral history methodology to study interviewees’ move into activism may have presented a slight limitation because agenda setting is sometimes a pitfall with oral history research. This means that interviewees view the oral history interview as an opportunity to speak about and to further their own projects and agendas. In addition, because the identity of the interviewee is not concealed, some may also be unwilling to speak candidly about certain topics. I can’t say that was the case in this study. However, a narrative study or an interview study that conceals interviewees’ identities may yield different results.

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CHAPTER IV

FINDINGS

This oral history study used a feminist theoretical framework to understand the lives of six contingent women faculty members in U.S. higher education institutions, uncovering the personal and contextual factors that influenced their development as activists and grassroots leaders. In addition, this study examined the role of power and how feminist conceptualizations of power—domination, resistance, solidarity—played out in the interactions described by the women in this study. In this chapter, I discuss my findings and respond to the overarching research questions that guided this inquiry:

1. How do contingent women faculty members describe their process of

becoming activists, especially the personal and contextual factors that

impacted this process?

2. How do the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align

with feminist conceptualizations of power?

Because oral histories were an important source of knowledge in this study, I drew upon individual stories to understand contingent women faculty. I honored the spirit of the oral history study and the voices of the women by using unedited, direct quotes to present the findings in most instances.

RQ #1: How do contingent women faculty members describe their process of becoming activists, especially the personal and contextual factors that impacted this process?

By listening to the interviewees and acknowledging their standpoint, I learned that a combination of personal and contextual factors influenced them, contributing to their

100 oppression and influencing their process of becoming activists and grassroots leaders in higher education. This is evidenced by nine unique themes which emerged across the interview transcripts, providing a means to understand contingent faculty members’ grassroots activism and the ways they negotiated power:

Table 3 Personal and Contextual Factors Influencing Activism

PERSONAL & CONTEXTUAL FACTORS

Voice / Silence

Invisibility

Gender

Credentials

Teaching vs. Research

Classism

Ageism

Economics

Family and Culture

Because a person’s memories are so significant, a researcher must pay attention to what a person chooses to reveal and how this memory shapes their present situation

(Leiblich et al., 1998). The details the activists in this study choose to include in their stories reflected their perceptions, values, and identity. Therefore, data analysis should

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“instead consider what is going on from a member’s perspective” (Speers, p. 785). I kept this advice at the forefront of my mind as I coded data and looked for themes.

Voice / Silence

Contingent women faculty activists in this study use their voices to speak out—in anger, in protest, in solidarity—as a potent antidote to being silenced in the academy.

They mentioned “voice” repeatedly, demonstrating they have tried and usually succeeded in being heard and listened to. For instance, using her voice to speak out in anger against injustice toward contingent faculty members is what started Jeanette Jeneault on her activist path. She was working at a community college where full-time faculty and part-time faculty were under the same union, and she was opposed to the conditions in the new contract that limited the freedom of contingent faculty members to select their own textbooks and other materials that, according to Jeanette, stifled the creativity of part-time faculty, making it difficult for them to teach effectively. Jeanette said the union head told her “You [part-time faculty members] have no ability to get together. You don’t even have offices. You have nothing.” She said those comments made her so angry that she was spurred on to action to protest the new union contract and to make her voice heard among other part time faculty. She said “I went to the hallway in between one of the academic buildings and the library that a lot of teachers would have to go through, and I would say ‘Are you an adjunct? Are you an adjunct? Are you an adjunct’? And I handed them a piece of paper, you know, with some bullet points: this is what this new union contract is going to do and this is why you should vote NO.”

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More than other interviewees, Karen Thompson told me repeatedly about the power of her voice, attributing her outspoken nature to her longevity as a part-time faculty member and as an activist. In fact, Karen often attributed voice to various situations in academia in which she found herself:

 “I’m a talkative person”

 “I’m an outspoken person.”

 “I’m pretty much a hot head, you know, I’m outspoken.”

 “I offend people because I say things, and I don’t mind.”

 “I’m a pain in the neck”

 “I’m too vehement of an advocate.”

 “I, you know, I will speak up in any situation. I will defend the underdog

whether they’re the part-time lecturer or. . . .”

 “I think I’m the kind of person who speaks first and thinks later.”

 “But the only reason I’m still there [at Rutgers after 34 years] is because I’m

so outspoken.”

 “I often say something that nobody else will say, and I’ve been at meetings

many times where people come up to me afterwards and they say ‘Oh, I’m so

glad you said that.’”

Clearly, Karen’s willingness to voice her concerns without fear of repercussion has been an important factor, enabling her to become an effective activist for contingency.

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Marcia Newfield also admitted that she has become more outspoken over the years and the longer she’s been in the union. She attested to the power of using one’s voice: “…we need to speak for whatever we’re at. You know, whether it’s as a welfare recipient or wife of a congressperson.” She thinks it’s important to contradict stereotypes that others may have, and Marcia believes that she has “contradicted the stereotype [of the adjunct] by speaking out as an intelligent, self-respecting person.” She understands the power of her voice at union meetings: “I’ve been known to be pretty outspoken, and sometimes at a union meeting, with a small group of full timers, I get ticked off that they don’t get it, and I say things that are confrontational.”

Ana Maria Fores Tamayo experienced the ramifications of speaking out from a tenuous position. When the maximum enrollment in her classes was exceeded, Ana

Maria wrote to the chair of her department, explaining that she could not teach four classes if they each had 35 students: “I will still teach the classes if you take some of the students away, you know, you have it in your power.” Ana Tamayo reported that the administrator made her feel as if she was at fault. She was subsequently terminated after speaking up and told me “So the next thing I knew, she had taken my classes away, had given my two classes away to somebody else, and that was it.” That abrupt termination became Ana’s impetus for finding her voice via an online petition at MoveOn.org titled

Better Pay for Adjuncts: Stop their Exploitation (Fores Tamayo, 2012b). As of October

2013 the petition had almost 5,900 signatures.

Interestingly, Mayra Besosa was the only contingent faculty activist who did not express the same feelings of being silenced. However, she is also the only full-time,

104 non-tenure-track faculty member in this study---and she knows that her position makes her experiences in the academy very different. Compared to the other interviewees, her work situation most closely approximates the ideal in higher education. She said “I’m talking as somebody who’s in a ‘privileged’ position compared to most contingent faculty. I don’t have to combine different teaching jobs in order to be fully employed.”

This status, in turn, affects how she uses her voice compared to the other interviewees who aren’t full time and aren’t “privileged” like Mayra.

Mayra explained that she initially felt “intimidated and vulnerable” about 10 years ago, prior to learning her rights under the collective bargaining agreement and learning that the union was there to protect those rights. She told me that she “tested the strength of my contract protections through successful grievances.” Subsequently, she gained the courage to become more outspoken. She added “It also happens that there is a culture in

CSU of stated respect for the academic freedom of all faculty with statewide and campus senates endorsing AAUP principles.”

Mayra admitted that because of the contractual protections afforded by her full-time position, “I’ve been more outspoken.” In addition, because speaking out is part of what she is expected to do as a union representative, she believes is not generally considered “a trouble maker.” She said “Vis-à-vis the administration and the faculty, I’m not a trouble maker. I’m just carrying out my responsibilities.” She explained that the university community has grown accustomed to the increased engagement of lecturers in campus life, whether as union representatives or as those doing service on senate and

105 campus communities. And Mayra thinks “This is universally inevitable as the growing majority of the faculty nationally are on contingent positions.”

Later, she told me that as an advocate and activist, she speaks respectfully, patiently, and persistently: “I tend not to be confrontational in terms of my tone of voice.” Mayra believes that getting respect from full-time faculty begins with respecting them. She said she was probably “more dogmatic” when she began her work as an activist, but said she learned that not listening and being impatient doesn’t change the situation.

Mayra talked at length about due process, appointment rights (for permanent employment and tenure), and the shared governance structure of the union. She said that without permanent employment, contingent faculty “don’t have academic freedom, and academic freedom is what gives you the ability to speak up within shared governance.”

Mayra explained that strong contract protections and institutional commitment to academic freedom can only approximate the conditions of tenure. For contingent faculty, speaking up involves a risk proportional to the strength of these factors. She said “As a contingent faculty activist, you want to work towards these approximations and ultimately towards permanent employment.”

Without academic freedom, fear can stifle many contingent faculty members and stop them from speaking out. Fear and silence emerged as the flip side to voice, the key factor preventing a contingent faculty member from using her voice. Jeanette Jeneault talked about the “definite fear that a lot of adjuncts have.” She added “This whole fear climate, it’s just really hard to work under.” Although fear makes some contingent

106 faculty voiceless, Marcia Newfield said “I’m not afraid. I don’t have to be scripted.”

And Karen Thompson, despite all her statements about using her voice, tempered those comments with this observation: “…in general, in higher education, the faculty voice is being suppressed, even the voice of tenured faculty.” She addressed the culture of fear that permeates tenure-track and contingent faculty members’ worlds. In particular, she can’t understand why tenure-track faculty often do little to advocate for change: “I mean,

I’m continually at Rutgers in the situation where I’m working with tenured faculty, people who have been tenured for years, and they sit on their hands. They bite their tongue.” Karen admits to being fearless, adding “If you want to make change, you must come forward.” She also said that she is aware that some administrators are afraid of her.

Maria Maisto knows about the culture of fear among contingent faculty, too. She talked about a letter that she wrote to the editor of the Akron Beacon Journal and how in the department “people were terrified. They didn’t want their names signed to the letter.” She also told me that it’s not only part-time instructors who are fearful and unwilling to speak out; it’s also full-time non-tenure-track faculty members who don’t have the protection of tenure: “I’m so in awe of people on our board who are full time non-tenure-track but who are active and out there because I think they’re actually the ones who have the most to lose.” Maria understands their predicament. She held a temporary, full-time appointment for one year, complete with her own office and personal computer. She experienced mixed emotions, feeling “guilty because I had this office” and “this sort of feeling of fear because that was the time when I felt most

107 caution.” Her husband had lost his job, so Maria was grateful to secure a full-time position but says life “felt very precarious and so I felt like I was less brave.”

And, just as her comments about voice differed from those of the part-time faculty in the study, Mayra Besosa didn’t acknowledge personal fear either. She did say she helps colleagues to overcome their own fears by educating them about their rights and protections, and they often approach her for help in strategizing. She said some part-time faculty members are “afraid to go it alone and want a union representative” such as herself; others are sometimes “afraid to file a grievance even in the case of contract violations because they fear negative consequences.” She countered her statements about part-time faculty by emphasizing “I want to stress that I’m not familiar with institutions where, where non-tenure-track faculty are generally really afraid to speak up. That’s not where I’m coming from.”

Invisibility

Contingency in higher education has become normalized in the academy as the way things are and accepted as the way things should be. As a result, the interviewees in this study spoke a great deal about feeling invisible. Karen Thompson acknowledged invisibility when she told a story about not being re-appointed at Rutgers University and how she had a very difficult time getting an explanation from administrators: “Nobody sent me a letter, nobody said anything . . . finally I got a letter out of them saying that I wasn’t being reappointed. It had the wrong name on it.” She said that because she is so outspoken, she is often ignored, even though she is on the PTL [part-time lecturers]

Council, the Senate, and in the union: “But, you know, people avoid me. I know what

108 it’s like to go to a meeting and have nobody want to sit next to me. I just overlook that.”

She said that tenured faculty members often care too much about what others think of them, making it difficult to get work done.

Marcia Newfield asserted “Well, I think the narrative is changing in that you ignore contingent faculty at your own risk, whether you’re a union leader or a higher education administrator.” She said administration’s answer to inclusion is simply giving contingent faculty more computers. Marcia’s response is “there is a pressing need for more contingents to become active in their own professional associations and unions.”

She is bothered by the fact that only certain union leaders—the top four at CUNY—are included in certain meetings, even though she herself serves on the executive committee, the finance committee, and the grievance policy committee, saying they “meet a lot. You know, in an enclosed room. I am not usually included in those meetings.”

Ana Maria Fores Tamayo was perhaps the most isolated and most marginalized interviewee in this study, teaching college-credit English courses part time at a high school---but no longer affiliated with any higher education institution at that time of this study. As she told me, “I am in a very awkward position because I am not an adjunct, but

I am an adjunct at a dual-credit system where there is a high school, and it’s not a college.” Prior to her termination, she was employed by Tarrant County College, revealing “In any case, they really separated me. So I felt very invisible. I felt like I had no camaraderie with anyone. I could never talk.” She spoke to me at length about her struggles with administrators at the high school offering dual-credit and the administrators at Tarrant County College—both of whom, she says, excluded her.

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Ana was a popular teacher who was well liked by students. As a result, she was assigned to teach large sections of her four writing-intensive classes. Enrollment gradually increased from 20 students to 25 students to 35 students. When Ana objected to the class-size increase, she was terminated. Texas is a Right to Work State, which, as

Ana explained, means “I was hired and I could be fired just as easily.” And that is exactly what happened. She filed a grievance which intended to prove that the school retaliated against her. After her termination, Ana wrote a letter to the administrators, but the letter was returned. She requested access to records, but the request was denied. She said “I cannot believe that there’s no record, written records, or a replacement for me.”

To combat the growing isolation and invisibility, Ana joined the ConJob Facebook page and began writing regularly. Later, she joined the New Faculty Majority as a way to connect with others who are teaching part time.

Repeatedly, Ana used the words “frustrated,” “frustrates,” “frustrating,” or

“frustration” when she spoke about her situation. In fact, a form of the word appears 16 times in the interview transcript, most notably when Ana is reflecting on her invisibility.

She told me that she started her online petition, in part, because “I was just so frustrated….I was just extremely frustrated with the whole system, with the invisibility of being at the high school, not having anyone to talk to, not having anyone in the college support me, not having anyone at all….” In the dual-credit system where she taught, even the back-to-school meeting was segregated with full-time faculty at a different meeting from those part-time instructors who taught college-credit courses at the high school. Moreover, instructors like her never met with their high school equivalents at all.

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“It frustrates me when education issues come up and people don’t care about them, and that frustrates me.” On the day that we spoke, Ana told me that she had just recently heard from a lawyer who said he was refusing her case, and she said a local journalist who was supposed to write about her situation seemed to be retreating. Ana admitted

“You know, I was so frustrated, so downtrodden, but then I had to get up because I have to keep going because I have to keep looking for somebody that will, you know, and even though it seems impossible, even though it seem like I am invisible, and I probably am, at some point or another, someone’s got to find one of us [contingent faculty] and say, hey, look!”

Clearly, these contingent faculty members are challenging exclusionary practices which make them invisible, a status that has come to look natural to some in the academy. Once again, though, Mayra Besosa---the only full-time, non-tenure-track faculty member in this study---described her own experiences with exclusion differently.

She told me about the union at California State, which integrates non-tenure-track faculty throughout its governance structure, and said “So when you’re incorporated in that manner, you know, you are part of ‘the faculty;’ you’re not set aside, you’re not excluded, there’s no division within the union.” However, the campuses have not caught up with the union in this regard. Mayra admitted that although there is progress, “there is still a culture of exclusion.” She said there are departments where lecturer faculty members are not invited to departmental social gatherings and are not part of departmental committees. But there are departments that are more inclusive, too. Mayra

111 is strongly in favor of shared governance “To universally share faculty rights and professional responsibilities within the institutional governance structures.”

Like Karen Thompson, Mayra also concurred that tenure-track faculty maintain the culture of silence and exclusion: “I would often like to know when I say something or I mention AAUP policy, you know, I would like to know what my tenure-track colleagues are, are thinking, but many really don’t speak up in front of me.” However, she thinks that type of culture is slowly eroding, citing a recent example from her institution where three non-tenure-track faculty members ended up serving on the Faculty

Affairs Committee, a move which Mayra found to be progressive: “We were acting like colleagues and we were speaking with a, with the same voice.”

Karen Thompson offered a solution to countering invisibility within the academy: making the invisible visible. And, it starts with a willingness to be transparent about one’s identity as an adjunct faculty member and a willingness to own this identity. For example, Karen spoke at length about this issue, articulating that so many part-time faculty members want students and others to see them as a professor. She said “And that is the contradiction of wanting to change your situation but not wanting to identify yourself.” Karen was very adamant about how contingent faculty should position themselves, telling me “If you want to make things better for part-time lecturers and adjuncts, you have to say, I’m a part-time lecturer or adjunct, and they treat me badly.

They shouldn’t treat me this way. I’m a professional.” However, she said she meets many part-time faculty members who are more interested in their title—being called an adjunct professor—than having a higher salary and benefits. Karen referred to this as

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“the phenomenon of passing,” meaning that part-time faculty members wish to self- identify as professors and “not wanting to identify yourself as a downtrodden adjunct.”

She believes “you can’t change things if you’re not willing to identify yourself as exploited, you know?”

Marcia Newfield gives this advice to her colleagues: “I said to them ‘tell your students you’re an adjunct,’ because they [the contingent faculty members] don’t want to, you know, because they think it’s shameful, so they’ve internalized the oppression.”

Mayra Besosa again had a different attitude toward the disclosure of one’s identity; she is opposed to non-tenure-track faculty referring to themselves as adjuncts and advised “Don’t talk of ourselves as adjuncts. No we’re not adjuncts, we’re faculty.”

Maria Maisto concurred, saying “sometimes we can get too caught up in discussions about nomenclature and that distracts us from the real issues.” Specifically, she was referring to the distinctions between the terms allies, advocates, activists, and grassroots leaders.

Gender

The women in this study mentioned gender as a contributing factor in their development as activists and grassroots leaders. Karen Thompson speculated that

“…maybe the roots of adjunct work are way back in the days where many adjuncts were faculty wives.” She said that “the adjunct profession has been a feminized profession,” even though she noted that 51% of adjuncts are men.

Jeanette Jeneault told me “We’ve always said that this [contingent faculty justice] is a woman’s issue.” She explained that she encounters many people who have “. . . this

113 perception that when females are working they’re working as augmenting the household income and not working to pay their own way, despite the fact that many of the faculty that are part time don’t have lawyers for husbands, and may not have husbands, or might be of a different sexual orientation or maybe have partners that don’t work, that are more artistic types that they’re supporting.” Jeanette says she tries to frame contingent faculty justice as a “feminist issue,” reminding her colleagues that not all women who teach part time are trailing spouses supported by a wage-earning spouse. As an activist, Jeanette has found that people assume that in negotiations “women are not as sharp as they [men] are. So, they underestimate us, and so that really helps.” She wants higher education administrators to “really rethink this idea that women don’t have power.”

Emphasizing motherhood or appearing emotional often makes one an outsider---invisible. Jeanette told me that she tries to subvert the expected, dominant narrative about women in higher education leadership. She said she’s not the type of woman to wear a man-style suit. Instead, she said “I’m the one that will run into a national council meeting barefoot in a gothic skirt,” which is red with belts.

Speaking about the contingent lifestyle, and in response to my personal commentary about being a single woman, Marcia Newfield commented, “Well, it [the contingent instructor lifestyle] demands a husband….it demands a kind of support system.” Marcia admitted to being single, too, and said “Well, I think it’s a real, what’s the word, I think it’s a scarlet letter. You know, that it [being a single woman] still is a scarlet letter, even though around the world it’s increased more. . . . it’s lonely, it’s freedom. . . . And it can give you a certain kind of strength.”

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Ana Maria Fores Tamayo admits that she can’t speak about gender discrimination in higher education because her experiences have been in teaching in a dual-credit high school system. However, she quickly added “I felt prejudice being a woman [in publishing], but more so, the worst prejudice I felt was being a mother.” She said when she worked in publishing in the early 1990s, her supervisors were not pleased to see pictures of her children in her office. Moreover, she thinks “I had it all against me, as a

Latina woman and as a mother…. I was not as good as a man and I was not as good as a woman who is, who is, you know, a WASP.”

Maria Maisto spoke about gender, saying that as women “we are the majority of contingent faculty,” though she admits to being challenged on those statistics by a New

Faculty Majority board member. She described how gender issues surfaced as the New

Faculty Majority was planning their summit. Although most of the members are themselves part-time instructors, Maria said “sexism is alive and well,” explaining

“When we were putting the summit together, you know, putting something like that together, it involves lots of high-level tasks and lots of lower-level tasks. And it was the women who did both.” She believes that “you cannot divorce gender politics from contingency.” Maria said she made a conscious connection with Ms. magazine and feminism in the piece that she wrote: The Adjunct’s of Truth (Maisto, 2009).

Sometimes, administrators don’t acknowledge the connection between gender and contingency. Maria mentioned Dean Dad, the community college blogger, saying “I have a problem sort of characterizing himself as Dean Dad (Dean Dad, 2013). Because to me the obvious counterpoint to that is adjunct mom.” Her own pregnancy was a

115 turning point of sorts for Maria. She said “being pregnant and realizing I had no rights” was an eye opener. She recalled other adjuncts who have not told people in their departments they were pregnant out of fear that they would not get the job, and she remembers a pregnant adjunct who was not re-hired after revealing she was pregnant.

Unlike others in the study, Mayra Besosa seemed to discount the role of gender in her experiences as a contingent faculty member. When asked if being not only a woman but a bilingual woman has made a difference in her career, Mayra told me four times “I don’t know” and “I don’t know what to answer” and “I don’t know what to say” before finally saying “I’m not confronted—that’s not a big issue in my work.” Overall, she downplayed the role of gender in her life as a contingent faculty member. Mayra said her union president is a woman and that she works within a system in which women and female leadership are modeled. However, she told me “I think we need to see more women in leadership positions [in AAUP],” because, as she explained, the statements produced by the AAUP “are like a Bill of Rights, okay? For contingent faculty and for women, because we are mostly women.”

She said “I think I’m a feminist but I don’t have a theoretical background on feminism, you know, but obviously, I am because the issue of contingency is a feminist issue, it’s a women’s issue.” She said women in many areas of employment tend to get lower wages and weaker due process. She remembers being on some committees that were “more male driven” and wonders “that perhaps it’s really the male voice that carries the day in decision making.”

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Through these examples, one could certainly argue that higher education, as an institution, is gendered and powered in such a way that it marginalizes some women and their concerns.

Credentials

Interestingly, interviewees in this study mentioned academic credentials (or lack thereof) even though I never asked. In many ways, they unwittingly made a connection between credentialing and their precarious positions in the academy. The drama surrounding contingent faculty demonstrates the impact of ideology in higher education.

What makes someone a real, legitimate professor? What makes some a leader? And what is the role of credentialing in the formation of faculty and leaders in higher education?

From the very beginning of our conversation, Marcia Newfield talked about not having---and not wanting---the Ph.D., though she says she knows many adjuncts who have the degree and who are annoyed to be in part-time positions. She said “people would always take me aside and say ‘don’t you think you should go for your Ph.D.? You know, you’re the right type to go for your Ph.D.,’ but it was too much for me. After two master’s degrees and freelance writing, I was having a hard enough time teaching the classes and earning a living.” She added “It’s not like after all these years I don’t feel inferior in some way because I’m not a scholar, but I do value my own path of becoming a writer.” However, despite feelings of inferiority, Marcia Newfield is not convinced that having the Ph.D. degree is enough to secure a tenure-track faculty position. In fact, she said “the Ph.D. turned out not to be enough. I think that’s why the movement started,”

117 citing Cary Nelson, Stanley Aronowitz, Susan Meisenfelder, and Barbara Bowen

(Professional Staff Congress President) among those who brought awareness to that fact that graduate students could not secure full-time positions and were, instead, being exploited as adjuncts or endless post docs.

Karen Thompson was ABD in Arabic Linguistics, having completed fieldwork in

Libya, when she began teaching part time. She told me “when I got this job at the union, people did ask me, ‘oh where’d you get your Ph.D.’? And I’d say, ‘well, University of

Wisconsin, but I didn’t really finish.’ You know, so, it was a little bit of an embarrassing issue.” She says she was “conflicted” with the dissertation, not sure if she should complete it or not, though she is confident that she would have landed a tenure-track position in linguistics. She didn’t complete her Ph.D., but Karen is proud of her involvement in many national organizations, including AAUP, AFT, and MLA. She reported that she’s been appointed to AAUP’s Committee A, the committee on academic freedom which, she says “is very prestigious.” She also reminded me that she’s in the film Degrees of Shame in a scene filmed at the Rutgers Union office.

Jeanette Jeneault spoke broadly about credentials and said that she would like to change the narrative surrounding contingency to this: “We’re people. Yeah, we love teaching, but we’re not under qualified.” She explained there is a perception that those who teach part time simply like students and teaching but do not have the same credentials as full-time faculty. She cited an article by Marc Bousquet, a long-time advocate of contingent faculty, adding “I was really surprised. He called us ‘un- tenurable.’” Jeanette also reported that Bousquet said “…in the discipline of writing that

118 none of us really knew about peer review journals, and none of us had read any of the articles and none of us used them in our classes.”

She was appalled: “Really, how dare you say that? It makes us sound like we’re…not only are we under-qualified, but that we don’t have any understanding of what people that are supposedly qualified can do…” She said quite of few of her colleagues earned Ph.D. degrees, and one was even a Fulbright scholar. Still, she talked about a previous female administrator in her college who, after reviewing the CV’s of the part-time faculty members, deemed them to be unqualified. Jeanette said “I thought that was very offensive. We’re qualified to teach your classes, but we’re not qualified to be considered as full-time instructors….” She spoke about the next chapter in her life, possibly in a new state, organizing contingent faculty at another institution, claiming “I have the credentials.”

Ana Maria Fores Tamayo taught college-level English to high school students, and early in our conversation, she told me why she had won favor at her school: “they know my teaching style, you know, they know I went to NYU, I have a Ph.D. you know…so they know I’m a good teacher.” However, from reviewing her CV, I knew she had not completed the Ph.D., so I wondered why she made this statement. Later in the conversation, though, she acknowledged this fact when she revealed that she received a slightly higher sum per class “because I have an ABD.”

Maria Maisto admitted to abandoning her dissertation because of family responsibilities. She also spoke about what she referred to as “that Ph.D.- non-Ph.D. divide,” and also as “the Ph.D.- MA distinction,” adding that she sees this as “something

119 that is troubling and that needs to be addressed.” She admitted that being ABD helped her when the program chair at one institution believed “the only adjuncts who really were, you know, worthwhile basically were the ones with Ph.D.’s.” Maria said the issue of credentialing extends even further, pointing to the division between English literature instructors and Rhetoric Composition instructors in the academy, adding “So those kinds of conflicts certainly come through in conflicts with the full-time faculty and among other adjuncts.” In addition, Maria mentioned “an elitism among college faculty. They look down on high school teachers.”

Teaching vs. Research

The issue of academic credentials appears to be closely connected to one’s role in the academy: are you a member of the instructional staff or are you actively engaged in research activities? The interviewees in this study overwhelmingly identify as teachers, and their passion for students and for teaching drives their activism. They are fueled by higher education rhetoric, which states how much universities value student success and teaching, but which is not matched by policies and procedures concerning part-time faculty hiring practices and professional development.

Jeanette Jeneault imagined a higher education institution of the future with less administrative influence and more emphasis on students: “I mean, getting rid of all those guys. You know, sending them to the curb. Sending them to a place where they’re going to have to get unemployment and have us, you know, still being valuable because students are always going to need faculty. . . . We would become mentors as well as teachers, and I think it’s a delightful idea.”

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Marcia Newfield also sees her role as that of a mentor or guide to disadvantaged students in her remedial writing classes. She spoke about teachers and teaching, citing primary education in Finland where students are far more successful than those in other parts of the world. Marcia paraphrased the article by NYSUT secretary Maria Niera, saying “it was interesting to me because she said what is it they don’t do? They don’t undermine their teachers. On the contrary, they build up their teachers. They professionalize them by money… and by support.”

Karen Thompson disagreed with the assertion that some newer coalitions, like the

New Faculty Majority, are more focused on students than activists of the past: “I think we have always focused on students in our platforms or our demands….every issue we bring to the bargaining table is explained and you know, sort of situated around the needs of students.” In particular, Karen thinks activists should form alliances with students.

Mayra Besosa said her work as a Spanish teacher influences her work as a contingent faculty activist. Like many contingent faculty members, she told me that she is repeatedly assigned to teach a limited number of courses in her department, all lower division, presumably because she does not have a Ph.D. However, she finds the union work challenging: “So I don’t have a challenge in, in regards to, you know, my teaching work. And since that, that’s not challenging anymore…. I need a challenge in my life, right?”

As an activist who was terminated from her teaching position two days into the semester, Ana Maria Fores Tamayo told me “sometimes I feel weird because I just feel like it’s—like I’m a fake because I’m not working and I don’t know what to call myself.

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I’m not a teacher. I’m not an instructor. I guess I am an activist. I’m an advocate for teaching. I love kids. I love education.” Later, she again said “I love teaching. I think what motivates me [to promote the online petition] is trying to get education back on track.” She said the “kids” whom she teaches are “what keeps me going.” Teaching as advocacy work (on behalf of students) vs. teaching as just one part of a much broader job that includes a research agenda and department/college/ university service?

Like the other interviewees, Maria Maisto is a staunch student advocate: “These are the students who need higher education the most, and they are the ones who are being exploited, I think.” Maria recalled one semester when she had a student with a brain injury, a student who was a convicted felon, and a student with autism—all in the same class: “that semester really brought home to me how unfair this [contingency] was to students…. the school was taking—not only taking advantage of faculty but taking advantage of students in this way.” She became very angry. At the same time, discussion on the adjunct listservs centered on building a national organization. Spurred on by her own anger, Maria volunteered to work on building such a group. It is now the

New Faculty Majority.

Maria Maisto said her activism has invigorated and enriched her teaching, saying

“when you get involved in the activism, you re-engage with why teaching is important.”

She received her best teaching evaluation on a day when she was incorporating activism into the lesson, reporting “I’m very gratified by that because ultimately why are we doing this if not for the education and the betterment of students and for the common good?”

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Classism

One of the worst aspects of the existing two-tier system in higher education is that it produces a bifurcated ideology and a bifurcated understanding of issues. As a result, contingency may look different to those in higher-level positions than it does to those in lower-level jobs. In this study, comments about social class emerged as yet another theme.

Maria Maisto told me “I don’t like the class distinctions and the class prejudices that sometimes arise when faculty say well, you know, we’re not janitors, or we’re being treated like janitors. When she got her first part-time teaching position at the University of Akron, Maria became aware of what she calls “attitudes that I didn’t’ understand” as well as her “first exposure to the class divide between tenured and non-tenured faculty.

When discussing contingency, Maria believes that “issues of race and ethnicity and class are important as well.” She cited a study conducted by the American

Federation of Teachers (AFT) which showed that minorities are underrepresented among the ranks of full-time tenure-track faculty but over-represented among non-tenure-track faculty, adding “I don’t think we’ve looked enough at the effect of contingency on the presence of minorities in the faculty, and we know for a fact that it’s important especially for minority students to have minority role models.”

Jeanette Jeneault also commented on minority issues, saying “there’s always this assumption if you’re a person of color that you come from a lower class. This is simply not true, in fact it’s incredibly offensive.” Jeanette, the first in her family to earn a graduate degree, also said “I have empathy for my colleagues that came from working

123 class backgrounds, and I admire them, especially the ones that were the first people to achieve degrees in their family.” However, social class distinctions are often ignored in the academy. She told me about an annual fall conference for teaching when she started a group conversation about class differences on campus: “I said, it’s great that we’re talking about this [race and gender], and I agree that it’s a really important, sensitive issue, but what about class issues?” Jeanette said she was openly dismissed by the group session leader, a doctoral student: “And she’s like, well what do you mean class issues?

Do you mean like in the classroom? And I’m like no, like class issues, like working class and you know upper class and how there’s a lot of this on this campus and it really plays into something really important in the classroom. We should address it.” Jeanette said she was angry because there was no mention of classism in the report that her group co-produced at that fall conference although she tried, in vain, to speak of its importance.

Jeanette spoke passionately about class distinctions and told me about the

“privilege walk,” a classroom activity that she uses which is intended to draw students’ attention to economic differences and disadvantages based on social class. It bothers her that some people in the academy look down on those with only a master’s degree. She connected academic credentials with social class issues, articulating “If you come from not even the working class but from a class where people didn’t work, where you didn’t grow up with books. You didn’t grow up with magazines or newspapers around you, and yet you survived. You managed to make it through. That is quite an accomplishment, and those accomplishments need to be recognized. So, when anybody turns to you and says, what, you only have a master’s degree? Only that masters meant so much to you

124 and to your family, then turn to them and say, ‘to me, to my family; that was a lot.’ And there’s no shame in that.”

Marcia Newfield also frames the adjunct situation as a class struggle; she strongly believes that “the struggle of part timers is not to internalize the oppression, which is a feminist concept.” She said the system tries to make adjuncts feel inferior. Marcia also asserted “although many adjuncts live on their meager salaries and experience great stress due to their poverty and job insecurity, class differences based on income are generally not discussed.” When it comes to differences between full-time faculty and part-time faculty in higher education, Marcia stated “Adjuncts constitute an underclass.”

Ageism

Comments about age figured prominently in the interviews, including statements about calendar age as well as the number of years one has taught. Age discrimination on both counts seems to have shaped the interviewees’ move into contingent faculty activism.

Marcia Newfield commented that newer, younger adjunct sometimes “look down” on long-time adjuncts: “You know, the norm is sort of a semi-bedraggled person.

Especially as we get older, and they feel sorry for us.” Marcia recounted an incident in which she was attacked by fellow part timers who felt they were not being represented effectively by the union. Marcia Newfield rationalized the accusation, saying some part-time faculty members feel “infantilized by the fact that they’re totally out in the cold.” She feels they are partly to blame, adding “They contribute to this feeling by not participating in union activities, chapter meetings, committees, delegate assemblies, and

125 more.” The reason given for not participating in these activities, she said, is the stress of the adjunct lifestyle.

When I asked Karen Thompson why she was highly recommended to me as an activist whom I should interview, she replied about herself “Because she’s old. She’s been around.” Several times during our conversation, Karen admitted to “feeling old and jaded,” often because some of the newer activists want to form committees, produce and issue statements about part-time and non-tenure-track appointments, and collect data that was collected a decade ago. When people ask her how long she’s been at Rutgers, Karen tells them 34 years, and, she exclaimed, “it’s like, whoa. A lot of people aren’t 35 years old, you know?” She says she would have liked to have been full time, “. . . but it’s too late now. I’m 66. I’m not going to get a job as a full timer anymore.”

Jeanette Jeneault alluded to workplace bullying and harassment and said the general atmosphere in her department is not good for her health, connecting both issues to age. In particular, Jeanette said “it’s really adverse to people that are above the age of

50 and that are females.” Jeanette told me this about the campus environment: “it really upsets me when we talk about it [ageism] because I’ve had so many people cry and come to me, and really good teachers that just said, I don’t need this.” Jeanette said that “Once you’ve each reached the age of 50, it doesn’t matter like how well you are in tune with what’s really happening and how well you’ve kept up with changes….They want you out the door and they want a young, pretty, I often say pretty, but they want like a young fresh person, probably because they’ll be easier to push around. They’ll pay them less.”

But in talking about herself at age 53 and her goals, Jeanette said “I’m not that old. I still

126 have a lot of . I still have a lot of life in me.” Jeanette believes that it’s important to get young adjuncts interested in contingent faculty issues, adding that once faculty members are on the tenure track, they think they don’t have to be involved in activism and are sometimes afraid to speak up.

Maria Maisto talked about the “seniority system” that prevails among contingent faculty whereby those who have worked at an institution longer get first preference for courses. She thinks “the seniority system is not necessarily fair and there are older contingent faculty who are very invested in the seniority system, and I think that that needs to be examined a little bit more.”

Maria said so many contingent faculty members are infuriated when they are required to attend professional development sessions “…and then the people who are giving it are these brand new Ph.D.’s, and I have 15 times as much experience as they do, and they’re telling me how I’m supposed to teach my classes.”

Economics

For the interviewees in this study, economic concerns were a driving personal and contextual force that strongly influenced their development as activists. Lack of an adequate living wage with few benefits was repeatedly cited as an important reason to become grassroots leaders.

Marcia Newfield spoke about poverty among adjunct faculty and about her conversations with adjuncts who aren’t re-appointed but who are denied food stamps because they are told they are earning too much money, maybe $27,000 per year. “It becomes painful,” she said. “It becomes a capitalist struggle." Marcia spoke about the

127 need at CUNY for adjuncts to get on the city or state health insurance plan. Currently, she explained, only 1,800 of the 14,000 part-time faculty members in the system are on the existing welfare fund at the school. Marcia said it was disturbing that approximately

$46,000,000 was spent on post-9/11 construction on her campus. While she agrees the space was needed, she added “But it’s very hard to get commensurate effort to push for a living wage for the 800+ adjuncts at the college.” Marcia said a large part of the inequity between full-time and part-time faculty lies in the lack of disability protection and health insurance benefits for adjuncts. She explained that in order to qualify for health insurance, adjuncts at CUNY must teach six contact hours per semester starting in their third semester of employment.

Karen Thompson thinks part-time faculty should be able to collect unemployment during the summer or when they don’t have the promise of employment. She also said that the conversation on Obamacare is good for part time faculty, articulating:

“. . . health benefits seemed to be the best opportunity to get a federal path to address the problems of adjunct faculty.”

Jeanette Jeneault referred to contingent faculty members as not only part time but

“part paid,” explaining that most work more than 40 hours per weeks. At Syracuse

University, Jeanette’s institution, 40% of the part-time faculty members who have taught for more than three of four years are earning a wage that is commensurate or two thirds of what an entry-level, tenure track faculty member would earn. She volunteered that she earns $45,000 - $48,000 per year, which includes a summer contract. And that is up from the $20,000 that she and other writing instructors used to earn before the union stepped

128 in. Jeanette assisted contingent faculty members with continuation of tuition benefits for their children. She said that many people see raising contingent faculty wages “as a social justice issue.” She talked about the role of unions and how a union can make a difference in what contingent faculty members will be paid and if they get a raise.

Ana Maria Fores Tamayo, who regularly posts online about the contingency crisis, commented on the Adjunct Project, an initiative to collect the salaries of contingent faculty members in the United States (Adjunct Project, 2012). Ana said she is paid $1,800 per class as someone who is ABD, adding “You know, that’s slave pay.”

Later, she told me “Working full time, if I had been working full time this year, I would have been making $15,000 dollars without healthcare. . . . You know, how can that be?

That’s with an ABD.”

Mayra Besosa, a full-time, non-tenure-track faculty member, recognizes that her position “benefits me in terms of salary, health insurance, etc. That I am able to commit

100% to one campus also benefits the institution and its students.” In particular, Mayra talked about the CSU-CFA contract that provides contingent faculty with health benefits

(with a minimum six-unit workload), contributions to a CalPERS pension, very strong due process rights, and renewable, three-year appointments after six consecutive years of employment.

The interviewees in this study linked contingent faculty members’ low wages to the prevailing typologies about part-time faculty, expressing a disdain for studies that attempt to categorize part-time faculty into types. Marcia Newfield said there are many doctors or lawyers who teach part time “Who get salaries commensurate with their

129 status.” She believes that attitudes towards teachers in the United States must change and that adjunct faculty who teach need to be respected more for what they contribute.

Karen Thompson said some lawyers or business people who teach part time create a problem for the other adjunct faculty members who rely on the money: “they do it for the fun of it or to be stimulated or whatever.” She cited law, construction, and secretarial work as examples of professions in which people work for different reasons: “And we don’t ask people, why are you taking this job? Are you doing it because you’re desperate for money, or do you want a livelihood that is giving you a career?” She said we simply hire those people for the job. However, she added “It seems that only with adjuncts does it become an issue,” recounting a memo in the English Department at Rutgers from 20 years ago which said part-time lecturer positions were for people who don’t need the money.” She said what a part-time lecturer does outside of work is irrelevant, i.e. whether they are retired or working another full-time job: “There might be somebody working construction for their exercise, but that’s not the point. You still observe safety standards for everybody on the job at construction, and, you know, in academic work you should still observe certain conditions.”

Maria Maisto spoke eloquently about economic conditions and believes that it’s important to understand “the problem of contingency as a structural problem that pervades the economy.” She stated “…advocating for working conditions, advocating for fair pay, advocating for professional conditions like benefits, etcetera, etcetera. It’s not just a self- interested position. It’s something that has relevance to society as a whole. It’s about the common good, it’s about economic values. It’s about democracy.”

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Maria thinks the contingent faculty movement has a great deal in common with other movements, particularly those for low-wage workers: “I think we should make common cause with low-wage workers because we’re all part of this economy and we’re all being treated badly.” Maria said that as a graduate student she “had no sense that there was any kind of distinction between professional instructors and the tenured faculty in terms of salary and benefits and all of that.”

Administrators often explain away the contingent faculty situation as an unavoidable by-product of the tight university budget. Maria doesn’t agree and said that higher education administrators have a responsibility “to get the money and to make sure that the money that you have is being properly spent. You can’t just rely on this argument.”

Family and Culture

Perhaps the simplest reason the interviewees in this study became activists and grassroots leaders can be traced to their pasts. All share a history of activism and grew up in families or communities that fostered their activism, which was often modeled behavior. Thus, these qualities probably make them more likely to be aware of inequities both on their campuses and in their profession---and to become involved in strategies to change the situation.

Jeanette Jeneault explained, “Well, I grew up in a family that was a union family.” She told me about her father who was so committed to the CWA

(Communication Workers of America) union that he turned down supervisory positions.

Jeanette revealed that her dad was involved in several long strikes that impacted her

131 family but also “taught me the importance of standing up to better power… that taught me a lot about hanging in there and being tough, and not being sold out.” Jeanette said her mother believed in volunteering and her dad believed in giving back and helping those in need---so much so that “on my 18th birthday, he sent me campaigning for Jimmy

Carter. He’s like I don’t care it’s your birthday, you’re going door to door.” She said the lesson she learned from that incident was an important one: she had to find her place and become an activist. Jeanette said “I grew up knowing that I had to do it, so I did it. And plus I love being a pain in the ass.” However, that same supportive father also asked

Jeanette “when are you going to get a real job?” which she found surprising but which she said is the perception of those outside of the academy who think that teaching part time is not a real job.

Describing her family, Karen Thompson told me “I come from argument culture.

You know? My background is Jewish,” adding “Maybe certain people even say, ‘oh, she’s a pushy Jew’ or something.” Karen attended Chicago public schools where she revealed “I was definitely a bad girl, even before I was political, in high school. I got in trouble for talking too much.” Karen also spoke about being a student activist in the late

1960s and early 1970s: “as an undergraduate I first was involved in the Civil Rights

Movement and then the Women’s Movement and then the Anti-War Movement.”

During her undergraduate years she lived in a Black sorority house along with two Black women who were in the Little Rock Ten.

She also revealed that she is a White woman married to a Black man, “So, I’ve spent my life, we’ve been married for 35 years, I’ve spent my life not worried about what

132 people think of me….” Karen was ABD in Arabic Linguistics when she got a job as a part-time lecturer at Rutgers University in 1979 and then took another part-time teaching position at the county jail. Shortly thereafter, a series of experiences led her into contingent faculty activism. After being terminated without a clear explanation, she accepted what she thought was a temporary part-time position as a grievance officer.

Karen took the job, saying “It never occurred to me to organize part time lecturers or adjuncts, but I was having my eyes opened. One minute I was working, the next minute I wasn’t.”

Mayra Besosa’s story is similar: “Growing up, my parents and teachers encouraged me to stand up for what I believe in, although they never explicitly encouraged me towards activism, to ‘challenge the system,’ so to speak.” She talked about the tradition of activism in her family and, in particular, about her great grandfather, Manuel Besosa, a member of the Puerto Rican Committee that sought autonomy from Spain in the 1890s. She also said “I don’t have a background of family union workers.”

Mayra claimed that she first became a contingent faculty activist, working to alter the status quo, when she was teaching part time at MiraCosta College and became involved in an organizing effort revolving around equal pay for equal work. However, at

Cal State, she became a contingent faculty activist when she was almost terminated after her department decided to have teaching assistants (TA’s) teach the introductory Spanish courses that she and other non-tenure-track faculty members had previously taught. She and her colleagues joined efforts, and Mayra became the spokesperson for the group,

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“first in voicing our protest to the department and then in approaching the union.”

Although not everyone’s job was saved, they won several grievances, and Mayra was asked if she wanted to run for lecturer representative for the California Faculty

Association. She did, adding, “And so here I am.”

Ana Maria Fores Tamayo told me about an incident about 20 years ago when she placed her then seven-month-old son in the care of a woman who had a helper from

Ecuador. As time went on, Ana noticed that the woman who owned the home was often gone, leaving the helper from Ecuador in charge of at least six children as well as household chores. Ana spoke to the helper in Spanish about all the responsibilities, asking “So what happens when they [the children in her care] leave? Do you have time?”

The helper replied that she still had to clean and wash dishes. Upon learning about the reality of the situation, Ana says she was “livid” and “fuming.” She eventually confronted the woman who owned the home as well as Boston legal services: “I started writing letters, and I actually closed her down for like three days.” Ana smiled after telling me this story, realizing “I guess I’ve always been doing this.” I agreed with her.

Her life, as evidenced by this example, is a testament to her willingness to speak out against injustice and to advocate for those in need---like contingent faculty.

Marcia Newfield also credits her upbringing with turning her into an activist, revealing that she is an only child whose working class, immigrant parents died when she was young. The author of six children’s books, Marcia began writing poetry at a young age. She said “Inequality always bothered me. I was a Marxist at ten years old.” As a writer, she said “I was working from my center….once you find your truth, it can fly

134 anywhere.” Marcia brings that same centeredness, developed as a writer in her youth, to her work as a contingent faculty activist.

Maria Maisto told me “I also feel sort of a family connection because working—believing in education and working for social justice and the common good is part of my, I feel, part of my family background.” Her grandfather helped to start a union, and she said he would have been shocked to see the current state of contingent faculty. Maria told me about living in the Philippines and in Panama where she

“witnessed a lot of political conflict. And my dad was a diplomat, and I watched him, and I think I learned a lot from him.”

Cory Aquino, who became the Philippine President after her husband’s assassination, inspired Maria who had the chance to meet Aquino: “She loses her husband in this most horrific way, he’s assassinated, but it propels her into this public position because it has to.” In a way, Maria can relate because her husband lost his job, and the family was forced to rely on extended family support as well as her adjunct faculty salary. She said this experience was pivotal because she realized that it was not only about the well-being of her family but “it’s about my---not to be sappy about it—but my extended family, the community in which I live. The world in which I live.” Her then 10-year-old son told her “‘mommy,’ he said, ‘when I grow up I want to be like you because you fight for people.’” This young man is just like the interviewees in this study who found inspiration from their family members and from their communities.

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Modalities of Feminist Power

The contingent women faculty members in this study are part of a growing revolt in which battles among contingent faculty, full-time faculty, and administrators are the most central professional battles taking place, all in the hopes of transforming higher education. This leads to the next question guiding my inquiry:

RQ #2: How do the situations described by contingent women faculty activists align with feminist conceptualizations of power?

The subtext of my study is a story about finding one’s voice and negotiating power, gaining visibility and validation in an environment where contingent faculty members are silenced and where the career trajectory is a glass wall. Using Amy Allen’s analytic framework, I uncovered the role of power in the lives of contingent women faculty and how the myriad situations they describe are indeed “power-ed” (Allen, 1999, p. 131). Because power is always exercised in relation (Allen, 1999), it was interesting to study the interviewees’ words, examining how the situations they described matched up with various conceptualizations of power. Table 4 gives an overview of Allen’s modalities of power and shows how they aligned with situations described by the interviewees.

“Power Over”

Allen (1999) articulated “power over” as “the ability of an actor or set of actors to constrain the choices available to another actor or set of actors in a nontrivial way” (p.

123). This form of domination emerged in the interviewees’ stories. An omnipotent they and them surfaced in many of the conversations as an all-powerful entity who wields

136 power as a resource and possess the ability to ruin the life of a contingent faculty member.

Table 4. Feminist Conceptualizations of Power

Modality: Amy Allen’s Contingent Faculty Definition: Definition: “Power Over” Domination and Being a victim of “they” Oppression (Higher Ed. Administrators and full-time faculty) “Power To” Resistance and Using tactical strategies; Empowerment Being persistent “Power With” Solidarity and Building bridges and alliances; Taking Collaboration collective action

Jeanette Jeneault: “it always used to be that they could get rid of you for any reason they wanted, including that they just didn’t like your personality or perhaps you are an activist and they wanna’ get rid of you.” But in some ways Jeanette Jeneault challenged this powerful they: “I’ve been relentless because I never give up. I never give up. I always push, push, push, push, and I figure over time, they’re just going to give up. . . . They’re like, alright, I’m done, just stop, stop, stop.” As an activist, she said being honest, ethical, and true to oneself will be more respected than “trying to pretend to be like them.” “Plus,” she adds, “who wants to be like them [full-time faculty and administrators]?”

Marcia Newfield referred to an omnipotent “they” when she admitted “Well, I don’t feel any connection with them at all,” but then she edited her quote during member

137 checking and changed it to “Well, I don’t feel any substantive connection with the administrators at all.”

Ana Maria Fores Tamayo looked sad when she said “you feel so frustrated because they took that away from me. . . . they do that to so many people.” Ana was terminated from her job in a dual-credit system, teaching college-level English to high school students. She loved teaching, loved her students and still keeps in touch with many of them. She Ana received Open Records regarding her termination, and she noticed an inaccuracy about who would be replacing her---a man who already taught at the school. She reached this conclusion: “We [part-time instructors] are just commodities to them. We fill the void; we are just there. They don’t care about teaching.” Ana spoke about feeling empowered after the initial shock of being terminated: “You know, they think they’ve stopped me? They’ve got one thing coming…. And they are not stopping me.”

Mayra Besosa told an interesting story that perfectly demonstrated “power over.”

Several years ago at Cal State-San Marcos, she brought the AAUP position recommending the integration of non-tenure-track faculty in shared governance before the Faculty Affairs Committee. She explained that this integration was still a controversial position at that time. An administrator on the committee, from the

Provost’s Office, confronted Mayra telling her directly and in front of everyone “Mayra, you are talking as if you were equal…but you are not equal.” Mayra said everyone else was silent, so she “sarcastically bowed down my head and nodded and said ‘you’re right…we’re not equal, we’re not equal.’” She quickly told me that she didn’t mean what

138 she said. Rather, she reflected on that moment and said “subconsciously or instinctively,

I probably was emphasizing a statement from the administrator that made other faculty members uncomfortable because it was undemocratic, un-collegial, unfair. I did not allow it to pass without a response.”

Maria Maisto worked in D.C. for the Association of American Colleges and

Universities (AAC&U) and at the American Conference of Academic Deans. She told me “I don’t think ever once did I hear the Deans talk about contingent faculty. In this case, she is alluding to the fact that they, the Deans, ignored contingent faculty. Maria told me about her “interesting exchanges,” with the VP for Human Resources at the

University of Akron as well as Dean Dad, the community college Dean and blogger.

Although she shares their commitment to improving the situation for part-time faculty, she recognizes that their motivations are different from hers.

Maria thinks she has a responsibility to try to understand the perspective of administrators even if she and other contingent faculty don’t agree with that perspective:

“Um, because if I can understand that reasoning, if I can try and understand where they’re coming from, then, you know, rather than just assuming that they’re all evil, which I think a lot of people do, which I think is unfair because I actually work with administrators for whom I have an enormous amount of respect and affection and I know they’re good people…”

Clearly, these examples show that contingent faculty members are often held hostage by the power plays of those in higher education, namely full-time faculty and

139 administrators, who often dominate and subordinate their part-time and non-tenure-track colleagues.

“Power To”

Allen (1999) explained “power to” as “the ability of an individual actor to attain an end or series of ends” (p. 126). Interviewees in this study spoke about tactics and strategies that they use or plan to use to resist the domination they experience in the academy.

For instance, Jeanette Jeneault detailed strategies that she and other contingent faculty implemented to draw attention to the situation: “we would leaflet a lot of students, but during the time that we did it, we knew that there were a lot of parent tours, you know what I mean? Student-parent tours…and we leafleted them, too, and of course security came by and said you’re not allowed to do that, and I’m like ‘oh really? I didn’t know that,’ and as soon as they left we started doing it again.” She admitted, too, that she is not beyond manipulating emotions or even displaying false emotions at the negotiation table. Jeanette said it’s important “just keeping up until you win, and never letting them know what your cards are.”

Jeanette talked about the many strategies she wants to implement in the future, including bringing out the vote, establishing phone banks, going door-to-door, leafleting, using some of the newer techniques like flash mobs, and involving students in the process. She described the round robin technique which involves two or three participating institutions. After synergy is established between participating institutions,

Jeanette Jeneault said the next step is to start lobbying. The contingent faculty members

140 at each institution occupy the campus of another institution for the day because “There’s no fear” [of retaliation], etc.

Jeanette speaks to new hires and voices her opinion about “where the landmines” are in the department. She teaches them push-back strategies, like challenging poor student evaluations by going head to head with department administrators. She said she gives new part-time faculty members “some ideas of what you should do to make you seem, you know, more empowered instead of less empowered. And that really helps.”

Interestingly, Jeanette said she’s on the department trainer’s new-hire’s list of who not to speak to.

Karen Thompson talked about resistance as a means of empowerment. She told me about a simple way to resist mistreatment, stating that in order to be treated with respect, part-time faculty must first demand to be treated respectfully: “You can’t get very far by just sort of quietly hoping that things will change.”

Mayra Besosa talked about empowerment, too, but admitted to disliking the word

“strategy” because she said it is a term that administrators often use, i.e. strategic plan, and she thinks it implies manipulating a situation or being dishonest. She said that approaching advocacy as a teacher and trying to influence people to change their position on contingency is the approach that she prefers: “You know, that I think if you provide a well-reasoned argument, you can win a lot of people over. Because faculty—I mean we go into teaching because we tend to be people who believe in well-reasoned arguments, right?” She prefers to use reason instead of emotion to deal with challenges.

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Similar to the other interviewees, Maria Maisto spoke about strategy, too, but like

Mayra, she prefers a more subtle approach. She said “I like working through conversation and argument and scholarship and personal relationship…. I think there’s an element of diplomacy involved. I think you have to be strategic about when you engage in more, um, public and vocal and sort of activities that are perceived as a little bit more extreme. . . .” Maria thinks “there are some people who can be pushed a little bit more, the ones who are very comfortable either because they’re tenured or because they’re economically secure. Have an obligation, and that’s part of the social justice orientation. To help those who don’t have those advantages.”

Concerning future strategies, Maria wants to see a revised narrative on contingency: “we have been talking too much to each other. It’s been too much of an internal discussion. We have to get out into the community; we have to connect to the larger issues.” Perhaps these are good tactical strategies and ways to empower the base.

But Maria’s ideas are also fine examples of the last modality of feminist power articulated by Allen (1999): Power With.

“Power With”

Allen (1999) called “power with” “the ability of a collectivity to act together for the agreed-upon end of challenging, subverting, and, ultimately, overturning a system of domination” (p. 127). That seems to be the goal of the interviewees in the study regarding contingency. Mayra Besosa claimed that “when we consider ourselves as advocates or activists for contingent faculty issues, we are really activists and advocates

142 for universal human rights.” Every other interviewee in my study echoed this same sentiment.

Jeanette Jeneault gave this advice: “Try to build bridges. I think building bridges is something that a lot of activists don’t do.” She talked about relationship building and said that activists must convince administrators that we’re all part of the same problem.

She described her technique of being gentle with contingent faculty members who are afraid of rocking the proverbial boat. Instead, she tries to talk to them about the overall situation of contingent faculty members’ position in the academy so they will want to disclose their misgivings to her. Jeanette said she will listen to their concerns and say

“. . . you have good ideas and sometimes we need to balance them out with the other side.

Umm, building bridges with faculty members.” Jeanette said she enjoys the creativity that is involved in developing strategies “where you build bridges, you make allies with people that have genuine power, and you have genuine power, too, but at first maybe you do the soft sell then you do the harder sell.”

For instance, Jeanette said that as an activist she tries to use people’s inclinations to be supportive of contingent faculty concerns, explaining “you have to gain their sympathy without seeming self-serving.” She said that “developing allies” is a key to her tactics as an activist and added that activists must appeal to what is inherently important to people whether it is feminist issues, public justice, or living wage concerns. In the long term, Jeanette said we have to rethink how higher education works overall: “We need to collapse hierarchies,” she explained, and later added “There’s nothing outside of

143 our imagination that can happen if we’re working together and thinking about it together. . . .”

Marcia Newfield also discussed the bridges being built between various organizations. For example, The Campaign for the Future of Higher Education collaborated with the New Faculty Majority, sponsoring New Faculty Majority’s study in a partnership that Marcia Newfield calls “very significant.” Marcia described another initiative by her union (PSC) whereby an adjunct faculty member is hired on each of the

19 campuses as an adjunct liaison to spread information about the union, to talk to other adjuncts, and to develop a contact list.

Marcia is strongly in favor of a collective approach to handing adjunct faculty issues, similar to how a community-supported agriculture group operates, connecting individuals directly with farmers. She thinks the same model could work in education, eliminating the “top- heavy administrative layer.” She explained “the narrative can be reimagined at every level…it would involve people working more” and, ultimately, shrinking the administration. Marcia asserted “I would like to see schools become worker cooperatives. . . .” She believes part of the appeal is that workers have a stake in the business. Marcia thinks this is possible on campuses with more activism and more power in the unions: “the more authority you’re given, the more motivated you become—you give people tasks, and they tend to do them. . . . they tend to want to contribute.”

Karen Thompson supports bridge building in higher education, too: “I’m really interested in going forward, and the whole reason that you link your concerns with others

144 that you want alliances and coalitions which I think are crucial to any movement or to accomplishing anything . . . is to show there is a common way to move forward, right?”

She reminded me that her interest in studying Arabic linguistics was rooted in the fact that people misunderstand each other and can’t communicate even when they are trying to negotiate.

Karen proudly spoke about the Rutgers model, which is affiliated with two national organizations, making them the Rutgers AAUP-AFT: “But in Rutgers we work together. We share an office. We work out our political positions so that students are at the center but all faculty are a concern.” Karen spoke strongly about the need to advocate not only for one’s own constituency but for the whole, always considering others’ needs, what she says is “…in the interest of the whole university, students, and the institutional survival,” and what she refers to as the “the common need.” She is disturbed that the narrative on contingent faculty, though shifting, is still circular and repetitive and hasn’t advanced as far as it could have: “They’re [MLA and CCCC] doing the same things over and over. I don’t see anything advancing there.” Karen spoke at length about the need for part-time faculty members to form alliances with tenured faculty members, adding

“But it’s hard to have an alliance because tenured faculty don’t want to say ‘oh, we’re on the same page with our colleagues who are adjuncts.’”

Ana Maria Fores Tamayo is using social media to build bridges and to form alliances. She has devoted energy to her online petition since being terminated from

Tarrant County College. Shortly after we met, she started a new Facebook page: Adjunct

Justice: Fores’ Forum which is intended to support the petition, a goal that she

145 articulated when we met (Fores Tamayo, 2012a). She told me “But maybe with this page, I’m going to try to reach out and say, you know, let’s start something in Texas, you know, with this page maybe, and we can start something because as one person, a lone wolf can’t really do much. But if we have a contingency of people, maybe we can make a stand, you know?” She thinks online petitions are “great,” but fears “if we break off into too many petitions, then there’s too many pies….And I don’t want there to be too many pies….I want to have one pie.”

Maria Maisto had myriad ideas about solidarity and alliance building and their role in contingent faculty reform. For example, when talking about the term “grassroots leader,” Maria said this: “…it refers to what we are trying to do which is to reach beyond our insular community and into the wider community and to help people make connections between what we’re doing and what’s going on in the wider world out there and help them understand the relevance of it.” Maria spoke about the New Faculty

Majority, of which she is a founding member, and said “Our approach, our platform if you will, is to make that connection [between faculty working conditions and student learning] and to help people understand how it’s relevant.” She described what she sees as “one of our biggest challenges within the part-time faculty movement:” reaching out to content and satisfied part-time instructors. Maria said these are “the ones who have not been made conscious of the inequities that exist in the system, and I think we have an obligation to appeal to their sense of professionalism and collegiality.”

Maria knows that “there are some part timers who think that the full timers will never be able to be in solidarity with us.” However, she doesn’t agree and sees solidarity

146 as essential: “I also feel as a parent that we have an obligation to our students. The students don’t need a divided faculty. The students need a united faculty. So, if we really care about our students and the quality of education, then we have to work for solidarity.”

Maria had an interesting, though potentially controversial suggestion, to “create solidarity” among full-time and part-time faculty members. She is in favor of what she calls an “affirmative action” that is based on financial need. She cited an institution where such a situation exists, “where they have sort of an unwritten policy that whoever is in the most financial straits should get the overload classes whether that person is full time or contingent.” She would like to see a similar policy adopted at other institutions, adding “I think that that’s important that we have to work toward that.”

Strong bridges have already been built, and Maria described several important connections that have been made. She referenced the NEA resolution focusing on unemployment insurance for adjunct faculty that she says “got through” in Summer 2012 thanks, in part, to Judy Olsen, New Faculty Majority board member and head of the NEA

Contingent Faculty Caucus. Maria Maisto explained the significance of this event, saying “I mean NEA is K-16. And the fact that she [Olsen] was able to convince the

K-12 educators, help them understand the importance of the issue, was major.” She also said that New Faculty Majority has been “influential” in the Campaign for the Future of

Higher Education, pointing out that New Faculty Majority is part of the steering committee, and the Campaign for the Future of Higher Education focused their second issue brief on contingency. Maria said “so I think that’s an example of how we’ve really

147 become instrumental in the faculty movement where we were always kind of peripheral before.”

In addition, Maria said the media regularly comes to New Faculty Majority for comments, yet another example of forming alliances. In summer 2012, for example, The

Chronicle of Higher Education meet with Maria to learn what they, The Chronicle, were doing for contingency and what could be improved. Maria said “one comment we gave them was that their survey on the best colleges to work for we felt did not address contingency.” Later, the Research Director at New Faculty Majority, Esther Merves, shared a research study which demonstrated that “the schools that were being touted as the best colleges to work for did not have wonderful records on contingency and that the survey takers had not actually interviewed contingent faculty.” Maria believes this shows how the New Faculty Majority is “challenging institutions like the Chronicle of Higher

Education to address contingency more directly.”

At the conclusion of our conversation, Maria cited many of the ways that NFM wants to join efforts with others and building bridges to advance the cause and to challenge them regarding contingency:

 “what we’re trying to do is really build our membership in the South because

the South is so difficult for unions”

 “We’re also trying to make connections with community organizations again

on these broader social justice issues.”

 “We’re trying to work with Catholic colleges. On unionization.”

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As data analysis progressed, it became obvious that Mayra Besosa (the only full-time, non-tenure-track faculty member in the study) had somewhat different responses than the others in the study. However, Mayra Besosa also spoke more strongly than the other interviewees about the need for solidarity among all faculty members, whether full time or part time. She said that all contingent faculty benefit when a colleague raises an issue not only with the union but also with the administration or the academic senate. Repeatedly, she said contingent faculty should look to the union, to the faculty senate, and to the AAUP and that, in turn, these bodies should empower faculty and educate them about their rights. In addition, Mayra pointed to other organizations, including New Faculty Majority and COCAL, who can assist contingent faculty in their organizing efforts.

Mayra asked “How long does it take for people to discover that an individual issue is often a collective issue of fairness? That the best way to improve yourself is to improve the collective lot?” She is a strong believer in collective action among all faculty members, and she thinks administrators can be allies, especially those who began their careers in contingent faculty positions, and if administrators emerged from the faculty ranks, she thinks they have an awareness of professional standards for faculty.

Toward the end of our conversation, I asked Mayra if she thinks that she has helped to alter the conversation on contingency. Immediately, she answered “Yes, but not as an individual,” adding “it’s all collective work. It’s not individual work.” She continued “it’s always been in a group, it’s been a collective effort.” She concluded by telling me “you’re nobody as an individual. You’re part of a collective.”

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Overall, the model proposed by the women in my study---building bridges, taking collective action---is truly a grassroots approach to leadership. This study reveals, beyond doubt, that contingent faculty activism can lead to potentially transformative changes in the academy.

In the next chapter, I will turn to a discussion of these findings and describe implications for praxis, policy, and future research.

CHAPTER V

IMPLICATIONS

The purpose of this feminist oral history study was to understand the experiences of six contingent women faculty members, to explore their move into activism, and to identify their techniques for negotiating power. Two questions guided the research:

 RQ #1: How do contingent women faculty members describe their process of

becoming activists, especially the personal and contextual factors that

impacted this process?

 RQ #2: How do the situations described by contingent women faculty

activists align with feminist conceptualizations of power?

In this chapter, I discuss the study’s findings (described in chapter 4) in relation to the existing scholarship (described in chapter 2), and proffer new ideas which emerged from the findings but were not foregrounded in the chapter 2 review of literature.

Additionally, I apply Amy Allen’s (1999) feminist theory of power to the findings, uncovering influences which coalesce in the academy and serve to create a gendered and powered organizational culture for contingent women faculty members. Finally, I conclude this chapter by focusing on implications for future research and praxis.

Discussion of Findings

The analysis of the oral history interview transcripts identified nine themes (RQ

#1):

1. Voice

2. Invisibility 150 151

3. Gender

4. Credentials

5. Teaching vs. Research

6. Classism

7. Ageism

8. Economics

9. Family and Culture

Overall, the thematic findings in this oral history fit nicely into the apex of the scholarly map displayed in chapter two, positioning this study in the context of existing literature on (1) women as contingent faculty (2) feminist conceptualizations of power and

(3) contingent faculty activism and grassroots leadership.

This oral history study and its findings are derived from first-person narratives, so on one level, it resonates with and extends the body of literature on contingent faculty, especially those narratives, anecdotes, and stories that express dissatisfaction with the contingent faculty lifestyle (Jack, 2008; Fielding, 2005; Keels, 2005; Jay, 2004; Schneer,

1998). And although this was not a study of contingent faculty members’ job satisfaction, the findings and the interviewees’ repeated comments about their unsatisfactory employment conditions echo job satisfaction studies of contingent faculty

(Feldman & Turnley, 2004; Gappa, 2000; Jacoby 2005; Kuchera & Miller, 1988; Monroe

& Denman, 1991; Valadez & Anthony, 2001).

In addition, all the women in the study talked about their families, their personal histories, and their development as activists. Each activist peppered her stories with

152 references to collective bargaining, unionization, shared governance and other issues found in the literature on academic labor justice and contingent faculty activism (Berry,

2005; Bousquet, 2006; DeCew, 2003; Herman & Schmid, 2003; Johnson, Kavanagh, &

Mattson, 2003; Kezar, 2012; Martin, 1999; Nelson, 1997). In the process of talking about their activist roots and the role of their families in their development as activists, the interviewees unwittingly connected their individual stories to the larger, broader narrative on academic labor issues in higher education. Finally, the interviewees frequently bemoaned their paltry salaries and lack of benefits and made comments that parrot the scholarly literature on academic capitalism and the life of the managed professional in higher education (Bousquet, 2008b; Rhoades, 1996; Slaughter & Leslie

1997; Slaugher & Rhoades, 2004).

However, this discussion is merely a superficial overview of the study. Looking at the data through a feminist lens gave me the chance to dive deeper, plunging beneath the smooth surface of the oral histories, past comments about low salaries, job dissatisfaction, and family roots, and into deeper, darker parts of the activists’ stories where real truths lie, hidden.

Allen’s Feminist Theory of Power

This study relied on a feminist epistemology and feminist methodology. These paradigmatic choices shaped the overarching research questions, the data collection procedures, and data analysis. Merriam (2002) described theoretical framework as “the structure, the scaffolding, [and] the frame of your study” (p. 45) while Mills (1993) said it is “an analytical and interpretive framework that helps the researcher make sense of

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‘what is going on in the social setting being studied’” (p. 103). In particular, I adopted

Amy Allen’s (1999) theory of feminist power, with its modalities of “power over,”

“power to,” and “power with,” as an interpretive lens to examine the findings (RQ#2).

Although many researchers have studied and theorized power (e.g., Arendt, 1969;

Butler, 1993; Dworkin, 1979; Foucault, 1980; MacKinnon, 1987), Allen makes a case for looking at power as three interconnected, overlapping modes---domination, resistance, solidarity. Further, Allen’s feminist conceptualization of power enables researchers to understand women’s experiences and powered relationships in the academy. She builds upon the work of Foucault, Butler, and Arendt, but her theory of power is uniquely feminist. Allen (1999) wrote “my aim is to offer an analysis of power that will prove useful for feminist theorists who seek to comprehend, critique, and contest the subordination of women” (p. 121). In light of the findings that surfaced in this study, I found that a feminist lens, in conjunction with Allen’s feminist theory on power, illuminated power dynamics in higher education and its gendered organizational culture, shedding a bright light on taken-for-granted constructs in higher education.

To accomplish this, I used the methodology articulated by Allen (1999) which involves analyzing power by considering various perspectives. This analytic approach, which she calls the background perspective, looks at all the factors that allow relationships to become powered in the first place:

1. Subject positions

2. Cultural meanings

3. Social practices

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4. Institutions

5. Structures

Allen (1999) said “the particular power relations that are the focus of the foreground perspective always occur in the context of a set of background social relations that shape the expectations, choices, and beliefs of the individuals involved” (p. 131).

She wrote that all power relationships must be examined within the broader context of which they are a part and said “this perspective allows feminists to understand the ways in which those subject positions actually position women in a network of power relations” (p. 131). Allen’s “background perspective” on feminist power is the analytic tool that I implemented to study the data.

Subject Positions

The contingent women faculty in this study experienced shifting subject positions, depending on the context in which they found themselves. As a result, this accounts for shifting power relationships. In other words, different power relationships emerge depending on which subject position a contingent faculty member occupies.

Examples of resistance (“power over”), empowerment (“power to”), and solidarity (“power with”) were presented in detail in the Chapter 4 findings (Table 1).

Allen (1999) asserted “Elucidating the interplay between each of these ways of exercising power is crucial because only such an integrative approach will be complex enough to make sense of the multiple and overlapping power relations within which we women find ourselves” (p. 129). Thus, the same power structures that allow contingent women

155 faculty to feel dominated also enable them to resist power and, in other contexts, position them as activists (see Figure 2).

Subject Position Power Relationship Adjunct as Dominated Subordinate “Power Over”

Adjunct as Empowered “Power To”

Adjunct as Coalition Builder “Power With”

Figure 2. Subject Positions and Power Relationships

The interviewees expressed a willingness to address situations in which they experienced domination (“power over”) and to elaborate on the ways they challenged resistance (“power to”). For example, as described in Chapter 4 , all the women in this study repeatedly made statements that aligned with Allen's (1999) modalities of power. They all spoke of a disembodied "they" who could wreak havoc on their lives:

 "It always used to be that they could get rid of you for any reason they wanted,

including that they just didn't like your personality or perhaps you are an

activist and they wanna' get rid of you." (Jeanette Jeneault)

 "I don't feel any connection with them at all." (Marcia Newfield who changed

“them” to "administrators" after member checking)

 "You feel so frustrated because they took that away from me." (Ana Maria

Fores Tamayo, speaking about her sudden termination from her teaching

position)

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However, as Allen (1999) so articulately explained, the same situations that give rise to domination also inspire resistance in the victims. To illustrate, all the women in this study spoke about empowerment and described specific strategies they use to counter dominant, oppressive forces in academia. Sometimes they distribute leaflets about contingency to students and parents or use other active push-back strategies; other times they prefer to engage in debates, trying to influence people by appealing to their sense of reason.

This discussion of subject positions points to the brilliance of Allen’s (1999) theory. Her conceptualization of power stands in sharp contrast to those definitions proposed by her predecessors. For instance, Foucault (1980) viewed power as a resource, albeit a productive force, that some have and others do not. Butler’s (1993) notions of power were formed with regard to gender while Arendt (1969) believed power existed only as collective action. But Allen (1999) combined pieces of the other theorists into an integrated and sophisticated theory of power that simultaneously examines domination, resistance, and solidarity. Allen’s theory shows that the contingent faculty member who is dominated in one context can be the same contingent faculty member who is empowered enough to resist domination in a different context. And, the instances of domination and empowerment work in concert to eventually solidarity and activism.

These three modes of power overlap in a recursive process as evidenced by the contingent women faculty who spoke about all three modes of power.

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Being dominated by full-time faculty led to their empowerment and willingness to speak out which, in turn, created the impetus for taking collective action through activism and coalition building. Examining each mode of power in isolation completely misses the mark. Together, these three subject positions speak to the complexity and multiplicity of powered relationships, showing how subject positions influence power relationships. However, subject position is only one perspective that must be examined when considering a feminist analysis of power relations; other elements are equally important in understanding power dynamics.

Cultural Meanings, Social Practices, Institutions

The interplay of the following three perspectives---cultural meanings, social practices, and institutions---creates a gendered culture in higher education which disadvantages contingent women faculty. Acker (1990) looked at "organizations as gendered processes" (p. 140), explaining that organizations are not gender neutral at all. She said a gendered organization means "that advantage and disadvantage, exploitation and control, action and emotion, meaning and identity, are patterned through and in terms of a distinction between male and female" (146). Her argument can be extended to higher education institutions which are similarly gendered.

Acker (1990) made the case that masculinities prevail in so-called asexual organizations. She quoted Kanter (1977) who identified characteristics that operated in organizations from their inception, where managers with the following traits were hired:

 rational

 tough minded

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 analytical

 non emotional

 skilled in problem solving

 skilled in making decisions

This description of the ideal manager working in the so-called asexual work environment begs the following question: if some faculty members, especially English composition instructors, are trained to be supportive and nurturing, how do they fit into the gendered, masculinist work environment that is the academy.

Schell (1998a) answered this question in part when she wrote that the feminist underpinnings of composition studies are detrimental to contingent women faculty.

Schell (1998a) discussed how a maternal pedagogy in composition studies contributes even further to the gendering of part-time faculty, most of whom are women. She argued that a strong identification with feminist principles and a nurturing attitude hurts women in the academy, particularly those in composition studies like most of the women in this study. She wrote “It is my contention that feminist pedagogy, although compelling, may reinforce rather than critique or transform patriarchal structures by reinscribing what

Magda Lewis calls the ‘woman as caretaker ideology’” (p. 74). Thus, the ethic of care and a feminist pedagogy, which guides the work of composition instructors, has detrimental effects for contingent women faculty like those in my study who are affiliated with English departments. Emotional labor combined with an ethic of care (necessary skills in composition instruction) are deemed unimportant in the academy, and women’s work in these fields is devalued.

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In this type of gendered work environment, women’s concerns are ignored as well. Acker (1990) said the exclusion of "sexuality, emotionality, and procreation" from organizations is a means of controlling workers and preserving the gendered organizational environment (p. 152). This statement was true in my study. Many interviewees commented on the gender politics of the academy which influences women’s experiences, especially if they are mothers or are pregnant. Jeanette Jeneault described what she called a "barbaric" situation that happened to a woman in higher education. Jeanette said "I was once told by a department chair at a community college, well, you know, you should be more like this one teacher....I won’t mention her name. But she was in labor on Tuesday when she made her classes, and she gave birth on

Wednesday and she was back on Thursday." Maria Maisto, Executive Director of the

New Faculty Majority, revealed “we [NFM] actually have been contacted by one adjunct who was fired after she- well not hired after she revealed that she was pregnant.” What explanation can suffice in these cases? Hassard (2000) claimed the organized body is the ideal of the male body: disciplined, disengaged from reproduction, emotionally under control. Thus, to be opposite this is to be outside of the standard and the norm (1264).

That is certainly the case in higher education in general and with the women in my study in particular.

However, Simpson and Lewis (2005) gave an overview of various studies which found that female entrepreneurs were reluctant to cite gender as a concern in their professional lives, pretending that gender issues don’t matter. In particular, the authors wrote “Accordingly, from Lewis’s (2004) study, some female entrepreneurs were keen to

160 align themselves with the world of men, denying any gender difference in entrepreneurial behavior and values (p. 1270). These studies parallel the remarks of Mayra Besosa of

California State University in this study who said that gender has not had much impact on her work life. As mentioned in Chapter four, Mayra is the only full-time, non-tenure-track faculty member in the study, and she repeatedly made comments that separated her from the others (all of whom are exclusively part time instructors) and seemed to align her more closely with full-time faculty members. When asked if gender has played a role in her life as a contingent faculty member, Mayra first said “I’m not sure what the question is” before admitting “I, I really don’t know what to answer. . . . I could say that leadership positions are mainly taken up by men, but that’s not the case in my union. So my union has actually modeled, you know, a different model. You know, our union president is a woman. You know, so, I don’t know what to answer around that, honestly.”

Lewis (2004) said that by not acknowledging any gender differences, these women see their experience as “the ability to abide by ‘universal’ (male) standards” and want to “evade ‘marking’ by creating distance from any practices or values which were thought to exclude or marginalize them” (p. 1270). So, if higher education culture is indeed gendered, and if that means the social practices of the institution dictate that women must deny their sexuality, then it follows that institutions would perpetuate these cultural meanings, reinforcing and internalizing them until they are taken for granted.

Sturm (2007) said in academia, differences in treatment between men and women “reflect unconscious biases reinforced by cultural patterns and shared by women and men alike”

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(p. 262). Contingent women faculty members, such as those in this study, are using activism as a way to gain relevancy in an environment where a gendered organizational culture and a masculinist world view prevails. Table 5 explores how Allen’s background perspectives on power surfaced in the activist interviews, impacting organizational culture.

The findings in this study about the role of gender in higher education reinforce themes that have been discussed for more than 30 years in similar studies focused on women as contingent faculty in the academy (Aisenberg & Harrington, 1988; Glazor-

Raymo, 1999; Kantrowitz, 1981; Lomperis, 1990; Lundy & Warme, 1985; Tuckman &

Tuckmna, 1981). The study also supports research asserting that women in the humanities, especially English composition, are faced with a unique set of challenges

(Ashton-Jones, 1995; Burns, 1992; Enos, 1999; Schell, 1998b). This is not surprising since all of the interviewees in my study are part-time or non-tenure-track faculty members in the humanities, and five of the six women teach in English departments.

Therefore, it is clear that findings from my study are firmly situated in the context of existing literature about women in higher education and women in the humanities, especially those with contingent faculty positions.

Gender clearly plays a role in higher education, especially in creating a subliminal reality that subordinates contingent women faculty. Because they do not conform to the cultural meaning of “faculty” member, the culture becomes gendered for contingent women faculty who are often silenced and invisible. Acker (1990) wrote "the abstract

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Table 5. Allen’s Background Perspectives

Cultural Meanings Social Practices Institutional & Definitions Allen’s “A feminist analysis “By consciously or “Institutions may explanation: of power operating unconsciously reinforce and uphold from this internalizing power relations by perspective must hegemonic cultural endorsing specific examine the way meanings and by understandings of that key concepts performing certain femininity and such as femininity, social practices…a masculinity, or by masculinity, and dominated individual encouraging or sexuality are can come to accept forbidding particular defined in a given meanings and adopt practices” (p. 134). cultural context” (p. practices that reflect 132) and reinforce the power of those who dominate” (p. 133) Examples --Definition of a --Women’s concerns --Very low salary from Data: “faculty” member is are ignored (pregnancy and few benefits for reinforced through and motherhood) contingent faculty, an emphasis on --Silencing of the especially those in research not adjunct voice the humanities teaching --Exclusion of adjuncts --Adjuncts are not --Maternal from meetings and embedded in pedagogy and ethic conversations institutional culture of care are seen as “feminine” and are devalued Result in --Definition of --Social practices in --Women are Higher “faculty” becomes the academy become channeled into low- Education? internalized habit and taken for pay, low status jobs, --Contingent faculty granted especially those who who do not fit the embrace a maternal definition of pedagogy or ethic of “faculty” are care marginalized --Women’s low status is reinforced in the institution through accepted cultural meanings and social practices

163 worker is actually a man, and it is the man's body, its sexuality, minimal responsibility in procreation, and conventional control of emotions that pervades work and organizational processes" (p. 152).

The impact of a gendered work environment was evident in the findings. As reported in Chapter 4, the interviewees in this study spoke at length about often being silenced in the academy, and they often mentioned the ways their efforts at unionizing, coalition building, or awareness raising were thwarted or ignored. For instance, Mayra

Besosa, Jeanette Jeneault, and Maria Maisto each talked about the “culture of fear” that permeates the world of part-time instructors, making them afraid to speak out. And even though all three women self-identify as contingent faculty activists and have successfully used their voices to speak out, they are in the minority among the large contingent workforce in higher education. A closer look at their comments about the fear of speaking out led me to examine and question the organizational environment that privileges certain voices in the academy (those of full-time faculty and administrators) while silencing others (those of the contingent faculty). The role of silence relates to the definition and cultural meaning of the legitimate / ideal faculty member, and the person who fits that definition is the one whose voice will be heard.

Martin (1990) drew attention to silences around conflict in organizations, pointing out that conflicts are ignored because they can disrupt existing power relations and dominant ideologies. In order to hold onto their position of privilege, full-time faculty and administrators must “devalue” and silence competing definitions. Simpson and

Lewis (2005) explained “Women’s voices and issues are silenced because in order to

164 maintain its power as a discursive regime, masculinity must suppress, in the struggle for hegemonic status, other competing meanings and interpretations” (p. 1262). So, this offers an explanation as to why these strong women with the confidence to assert themselves as activists were being silenced in the workplace.

The message is clear: if you don’t fit the culture’s definition of “faculty” member, you are not legitimate, and you’re silenced. Therefore, because 50% of those who teach in higher education institutions are contingent faculty, then 50% may not be regarded as legitimate faculty, and, thus, do not vote, do not have a voice, and do not participate in campus governance.

In conjunction with findings about voice, an analysis of invisibility also surfaced in this study. For instance, Mayra Besosa, the full-time, non-tenure-track interviewee, talked about what she termed "a culture of exclusion" that exists for those faculty members who are not employed full time. Ana Maria Fores Tamayo, dismissed without explanation from her part-time teaching position in Texas, used the word "invisible" at least seven times as we spoke and she tried to make sense of her experiences. Schell

(1998b), who studies contingent composition instructors, found “many contingent faculty teachers are isolated from professional networks” (p. 85).

Invisibility in the academy points to the features that define the ideal / legitimate worker in higher education. This definition of the ideal / legitimate faculty member shapes the criteria considered essential for inclusion in (or exclusion from) the dominant group. For instance, comments about credentialing, which were mentioned in nearly all the interview transcripts, are very significant because these comments show that faculty

165 members without a completed doctoral degree who do not conduct research do not conform to the definition of the legitimate worker in higher education, and, conversely, are not viewed as key players in academy’s research agenda. This ideal worker in the academy is usually defined as 1) someone possessing a doctoral degree and 2) someone with an active research agenda. However, the six interviewees in this study identify strongly as teachers, not researchers; none of them completed their Ph.D., though half of them were ABD with dissertations in progress at one point. As a result, they are not

“seen” as ideal / legitimate faculty members, and they become invisible. Maria Maisto remembered this: “the program head where I was at one institution was very adamant that he felt that the only adjuncts who really were, you know, worthwhile basically were the ones with Ph.D.’s.”

Structures

When considering the background perspective as an analytic tool, perhaps the most important factor of all is this one: structures. Allen (1999) said “viewing power from the perspective of deep structures involves examining the ways in which power relations actually structure our social situation” (p. 135). In fact, she asserted that structures shape all the other perspectives already mentioned, dictating the subject positions that are available, the cultural meanings that will be used, the social practices that will probably be adopted, and the institutions to which one will gain entry.

Structures matter, and in this study they are connected to normativity and the binaries in higher education which define the ideal faculty member and create a gendered and powered organization.

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According to Meyerson and Tompkins (2007), "the persistence of structures and beliefs that results in gender inequities in higher education, as well as other workplaces, can be partly attributed to institutional processes that uphold the legitimacy and assumed neutrality of these arrangements" (306). Taken-for-granted beliefs circulate in the academy and include ideas about the ideal / legitimate faculty member. Foucault (1976) argued that power is “located within the norm, thus what is part of the normative state is taken for granted” (in Meyerson and Tompkins, p. 1263). The person who fits this definition is seen as the "norm" in higher education, and this definition becomes reinforced through social and institutional practices.

Although structures may serve the academy and full-time, tenure-track faculty members, they do not work for contingent women faculty, particularly those in the humanities. Kupiec Cayton (1991) described the category of “irregular faculty” as women with M.A. degrees who teach language courses, English composition courses, and courses in performing arts and Schools of Education. Obviously, these “irregular” faculty members stand in opposition to the ideal / legitimate faculty member with a doctoral degree who conducts research.

The stratification between teaching and research in higher education is another part of the definition of the ideal / legitimate faculty members, and “teaching” emerged as a finding in this study. Teaching is closely connected to credentialing. Because contingent women faculty members self- identify as teachers, not researchers, and because they don’t possess a terminal degree, they interviewees in this study are positioned outside of the norm, marginalizing them. Structures in the academy have

167 impacted the experiences of contingent women faculty members and cemented their non- normative status

But the interviewees in this study demonstrated they are fighting against their non-normative status in the academy and claiming their identities. They commented on and expressed a disdain for the typology studies that are noted in the literature and which attempt to classify and label contingent faculty (Gappa & Leslie, 1993; Kezar & Sam,

2010; Tuckman 1978). Some interviewees spoke about naming themselves as disenfranchised faculty members rather than allowing typology studies to assign these labels to them.

Allen’s (1999) feminist theory of power and its consideration of background perspectives effectively explores how power relations are created and maintained, and

I’ve teased out some of these elements in my analysis and discovered that the women’s stories and experiences as contingent faculty are inextricably linked to larger structures in academe. Figure 3 visually represents Allen’s background perspectives:

Although statistics show the numbers of full-time and tenure-track faculty members are dropping when compared to the ranks of part-time and contingent faculty

(AAUP, 2012; Kezar & Sam, 2012; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006) this has not changed the power dynamics in the academy. Full-time and tenure-track- faculty members have maintained power, in part, because they represent the normative standard and conform to higher education’s definition of the ideal / legitimate worker. And, full-time faculty members derive power from their membership in the dominant group, leaving contingent faculty on the outside. Deep structures in higher education have solidified this reality,

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Deep Structures

Subject Institutions Positions Cultural Social Meanings Practices

Figure 3. Impact of Deep Structures on Organizational Culture

influencing the subject positions held by adjuncts, the cultural definition of “faculty” member, the social practices of listening to and seeing only those who fit that definition, and institutional acceptance of these definitions and practices.

A New Model: Grassroots Academic Leadership

A feminist conceptualization of power, when applied to contingent women faculty members’ experiences, reveals the structures in place in higher education that disadvantage women. Such an analysis is a siren call, signaling administrators to reconsider models of academic leaderships and to re-conceptualize beliefs about academic professionalism, both of which have been taken for granted for a long time. So, can collective actors---such as contingent women faculty---initiate change in higher education? And, can gender inequality be a catalyst for organizational change when

169 some actors are highly "embedded" in their institutions, meaning they have been socialized completely into the culture and have a lot to lose if that culture changes? I think so, but it’s not without difficulty. Those who are deeply embedded in their institutions typically have a very difficult time seeing alternatives (Meyerson &

Tompkins, pp. 308-09). That is often the case for full-time, tenure-track faculty and academic administrators, many who have risen through the faculty ranks. They are usually very embedded in their institutional culture and readily accept social practices in those institutions, unknowingly contributing to a gendered and powered organizational culture.

The good news for contingent women faculty activists, who exist in the margins and who are not embedded, is they can be much more innovative in imagining alternatives. The bad news is contingent women faculty members don't possess formal authority and don't have access to an extensive network or resources, both of which are needed to fully implement change (Meyerson & Tompkins, 2007; Sturm, 2007).

Meyerson (2007) calls these actors, such as the women in this study, "tempered radicals" (p. 310) and said their tactics are often subversive, adding they are "embedded in multiple institutional contexts---tied both to their workplaces and to identity and/or interest-based communities" (p. 311). For the activists in this study, “tempered radicals” is an appropriate description: most have long-term institutional loyalties but are equally committed to the contingent faculty movement and to academic labor justice. Therefore, in order for them to become institutional change agents, ushering in a new model of academic leadership, it is imperative that contingent women faculty learn to straddle two

170 worlds, negotiating the concerns of those with institutional legitimacy as well as the concerns of those in the institutional margins. It won't be easy.

To succeed, it is imperative that contingent women faculty activists link the concerns of the contingency movement with the key mission(s) of their institutions. In addition, success relies upon maintaining this same duality at the collective, group level, which is surely a challenge given competing ideologies and interests.

"What's in it for me?" the seasoned, embedded administrator may ask when confronted with this new model of academic leadership. Well, to quote Meyerson and

Tompkins (2007), "Access to multiple networks enables central catalysts to support, learn from, and mobilize local and marginalized agents who are distributed throughout their institutions" (p. 321). In other words, welcoming contingent faculty from the margins into the main text of the academy will mean that everyone in higher education benefits.

On the flip side, this approach to leadership---whereby contingent faculty members exercise agency at the grassroots level to challenge the status quo---is a decidedly bottom-up approach to change and deviates slightly from some existing scholarship. Findings in this study resonate with the newer academic literature on faculty grassroots leadership among contingent faculty. In my research, the interviewees prove that a feminist approach to power, especially what Allen (1999) calls “power with,” creates opportunities for collaboration and solidarity among all faculty members. The expression "building bridges" came up many times during the interviews. Working together as a collective unit is what Allen (1999) refers to when she describes "power with." It is activism in action, a way to connect the contingent faculty movement to the

171 larger academic world. Mayra Besosa seemed to be speaking for all the women in this study and for all contingent faculty activists when she asked these rhetorical questions: “How long does it take for people to discover that an individual issue is often a collective issue of fairness? That the best way to improve yourself is to improve the collective lot?” In a study focusing on feminist power, these questions are indeed quite powerful.

Clearly, the women in this study seek to complicate and to disrupt the meaning of the word “faculty” in the academy by exercising agency. Kezar and Lester (2012) found that contingent faculty members are often silenced by full-time faculty and by administrators who attempt to minimize their attempts at grassroots leadership. Kezar and Lester (2012) also found that grassroots leaders, like the women in this study, often remain as invisible as the changes they are attempting to make. Grassroots leaders, they write, must learn to negotiate power because they are likely to encounter resistance not only from those with positions of authority but also from their peers and from students.

This new model for higher education leadership is the counter view to academic capitalism and academic managerialism, which the interviewees alluded to when they described their frustration, their invisibility, and separateness---their non-normative status. But this new model has implications for a new type of professionalism that includes all faculty members regardless of their employment status.

There is a small body of literature on a new academic professionalism that is relevant here that stands in contrast to literature on academic managerialism (Nixon,

2001; Nixon, Marks, & Rowland, 2001). The shift from academic managerialism into a

172 new academic professionalism means freedom for all members of the academic community and includes, in part, a broader definition of research, more emphasis on teaching, and recognition of a growing divide between those who work in academia. It makes one ponder this question: If we change academic labor practices and redefine what it means to be a “professional,” a “faculty” member, and a “leader” can we ultimately change the working conditions and lives of contingent faculty in U.S. higher education?

Implication for Research

The findings in this study have implications for future research. For those who wish to pick up the baton and continue the race toward academic labor justice, this study has raised new questions.

 Future research should look at the intersection of race and gender. How does

that intersection contribute to a gendered environment in the academy? How

do other dimensions of identity, such as race, operate in constructing

conceptualizations of leadership in higher education?

 Researchers interested in race theory may wish to explore how Black women

contingent faculty members approach activism and tempered radicalism in

higher education. Does race in conjunction with gender impact one’s

approach to being a change agent in higher education?

 Research could consider the limits of collective actors to achieve results

through solidarity, looking at factors that create challenges and stumbling

173

blocks on the path to equity. What are the impediments to building bridges

and achieving “power with”?

 Research should look at the experiences of the non-celebrity adjunct activist,

working solely at campus level, rather than at the national level. This

contingent faculty member remains silent and largely invisible unlike women

in this study who have achieved notoriety for their achievements.

 In addition, future researchers could conduct a content analysis of the sizable

anecdotal evidence literature to see which themes are most prevalent in

contingent faculty members’ stories.

 Researchers could also study the so-called “satisfied” part-time faculty

members to understand what makes them more content with their experiences

as contingent faculty members in the academy. The New Faculty Majority

(NFM), particularly NFM President Maria Maisto, have identified the

“satisfied part timer” as someone who has consistently expressed resistance to

organizing and coalition-building efforts and who may stand in the way of

total reform. Maisto spoke about the content and satisfied part-time

instructor, saying "I think that those of us who are activists or advocates don’t

do enough to acknowledge that the satisfied ones exist and don’t do enough to

reach out to them." Thus, understanding their experiences may help to enlist

them as allies and eventually activists to the cause.

 Finally, discourse analysis can be used to uncover how discourses and power

relations create situations that allow for and perpetuate certain ways of

174

thinking (Foucault, 1980). Studying groups of words and images in the

interview transcripts of contingent faculty members may unearth the ways that

discourse mirrors certain prevailing viewpoints and contributes to normativity

in the academy.

Implications for Praxis

This feminist oral history study offers implications for praxis in higher education as well. As a feminist scholar and feminist practitioner, it is imperative to demonstrate that one is an adjunct ally, supporting the cause and challenging unfair labor practices that perpetuate inequality in the academy. Feminist researchers emphasize the need for research that results in practice. According to hooks (1984), the challenge is erasing the void between theory and action and taking “feminism out of the university and into the streets” (p. 110). Because findings from this dissertation study are derived from the lived experiences of contingent women faculty activists, these findings suggest ways to achieve campus equity and between full-time and part-time faculty members.

One suggestion for praxis is giving voice and visibility to adjuncts and their concerns by organizing and promoting Campus Equity Week (CEW) events or instituting a bottom-up approach to professional development, one that positions contingent faculty as session leaders. Working at the institutional level to craft a diversity plan that addresses the concerns of contingent faculty may also be considered praxis. Efforts are already underway to give contingent faculty a stake in collective bargaining and a voice in shared governance. But we must continue to challenge these inequalities, moving beyond raising awareness to dismantling the system. I plan to archive the digital audio

175 tapes in a repository or even create a website with hot links so that others can benefit from the words of these contingent faculty activists.

As a former part-time composition instructor and now a scholar-advocate for contingency, writing as a form of activism is something I am very interested in pursuing.

Kupiec Cayton (1991) asserted “the dilemma we face as temporary and part-time academic workers ought to entail more than a drive to unionize (as vital as that move will continue to be)” (p. 657). Rather, she believes contingent faculty must speak and write about their marginalization, understanding that such ideas “may well not always be welcome by those whose legitimacy and authority it threatens” (p. 657). Holding consciousness-raising discussions with satisfied contingent faculty, with full-time faculty, and with administrators is appealing and has potential.

Yet, here is the challenge: achieving praxis. This study, guided by a feminist theoretical framework, is not an end in itself; it committed to praxis. As hooks (1984) asserted, we must take “feminism out of the university and into the streets and homes of this society” (p. 110). Just as feminist research is committed to social change, feminist praxis empowers researchers to become activists (Iverson, 2008). Becoming a change agent, though, requires a shift in one’s identity. With that in mind, I will don my activist garb and continue the march forward with the recognition that there will be roadblocks along the way. Praxis is important way to honor the work of those contingent women activists in this study who have already worked toward academic labor justice.

176

Conclusion

This study uncovered patriarchal social dynamics and power relationships that disadvantage contingent women faculty in the humanities and continue to thrive in the academy. In higher education institutions, organizational structure is gendered, and these gender inequalities influence women’s experiences within this structure. Moreover, these structures contributed to the oppression of the contingent women faculty in this study and led to their development as activists.

As demonstrated, my study extends existing research and illuminates the idea that contingent women faculty are more than “sad women in the basement” (Miller,

1993). In the process, the study fills a gap by presenting new findings which position contingent women faculty activists and leaders, ushering in new ideas about academic leadership at the grassroots level. Furthermore, as feminist research, my study amplifies the voices of a category of women faculty members who are so rarely heard or listened to in higher education, raising some ideas for a new type of academic leadership and academic professionalism in the academy, one that is inclusive for all faculty members.

On a personal note, as my dissertation developed, I gained increasing confidence in myself as a researcher. I decided not to rely on computer coding to analyze data, using only hand coding, and no longer felt a need to “prove” myself and the rigor of my study.

Thus, I avoided the “sin of competitiveness” that plagues some qualitative researchers

(Schram, 2006; Shank, 2002). I am confident that my standpoint and my methodology are as legitimate as any other.

177

In particular, throughout the data analysis phase, I allowed the research questions, my feelings about the interviews, and my assumptions--- not only the existing literature---to guide my attempts to make sense of the data. Schram (2006) distinguished between “looking at” data (i.e. focusing on methods) and actually “seeing” data. To that end, my findings are firmly rooted in the ways that I, as an instrument in my study, “saw” the data. And, what I saw is disturbing: a gendered, powered academy. These findings meld into existing scholarship, echoing much of the literature reviewed in the chapter two. I’m thrilled about opportunities for future research projects, and I believe this study adds impact to the discipline of higher education.

APPENDICES

APPENDIX A ORAL HISTORY CONSENT FORMS

180 181

182

183

184

185

APPENDIX B PRE-INTERVIEW E-MAIL

APPENDIX B PRE-INTERVIEW E-MAIL

Hi Marcia,

It was nice to finally speak to you on the phone last week. Please read this e-mail and confirm with me that this is all o.k.

I look forward to speaking to you in person on Saturday, September 29 at 1:00 p.m.

Here is a summary of the details:

1) I will meet you in the lobby of the hotel:

Hyatt Regency New Brunswick Two Albany Street, New Brunswick, New Jersey, USA 08901

2) I will pay you $60 for the interview (a personal check / PNC Bank)

3) I will e-mail you a "demographic questionnaire" on Monday, September 24. This will consist of some short answer questions such as the academic subjects you teach.. . . your highest degree earned. . . . etc.

4) My study relies on feminist methodologies. As such, you will have access to the following items in the months following our in-person meeting:

• The complete, transcribed interview/conversation • Digital audio files of our conversation • Notes on my initial coding (for data analysis) • Draft of my written analysis of our conversation

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APPPENDIX C DEMOGRAPHIC QUESTIONAIRRE

APPPENDIX C DEMOGRAPHIC QUESTIONAIRRE

1. Name:

2. The higher education institution(s) where you are currently employed:

3. How long have you been teaching at your current institution(s)?

4. Your job title(s):

5. How long have you held that title(s)?

6. In which academic discipline(s) have you taught? For how long did have your

taught in each discipline?

7. At which institutions have you previously taught or worked?

8. With which professional organizations are you affiliated?

9. What is your title at each organization? Which committee(s) or division(s)

are you a member of within these professional organizations?

10. Would you say you are a voluntary or an involuntary faculty member (in your

rank: PT, NTT, etc.).

11. What is the highest degree that you have earned? In which field of study? From

which academic institution?

12. List all publications that you have authored about contingency / contingent faculty

13. List all presentations that you have made about contingency / contingent faculty

14. List all awards that you have won for your work about contingency / contingent

faculty

189 190

15. List some adjectives that best describe YOU in your role in higher education &

contingent faculty efforts.

APPENDIX D ORAL HISTORY INTERVIEW QUESTIONS / TALKING POINTS

APPENDIX D ORAL HISTORY INTERVIEW QUESTIONS / TALKING POINTS

1. More than 50% of faculty members in U.S. higher education are contingent. So,

why are you one of those speaking out? Tell me your story.

2. How do you describe yourself when you talk about what you do: As an activist?

As an advocate? As an ally? As a grassroots leader? Another word? Why?

a. Do labels make a difference?

3. When it comes to your work on contingent faculty issues, would you say you

have a platform? What it is?

a. How has your agenda changed since you began seeking reform for

contingent faculty? Describe this change to me.

4. What are the biggest motivators for you as an activist?

a. For whom are you doing what you do? For what are you doing what you

do?

5. Tell me about challenges, conflicts, and struggles you have encountered when you

spoke out about contingency in higher education. Give me examples or tell me a

story.

a. Any conflicts with full-time faculty members?

b. With administrators?

c. With other part-time faculty members?

d. Any conflicts within yourself

192 193

6. Has being a woman mattered at all: both as a contingent faculty member and as

an activist? Give me examples.

7. What would you say is the current narrative about contingent faculty?

a. Do you think you have helped to change the narrative or start a new

conversation? Tell me how.

b. If not, tell me why.

8. You chose several adjectives to identify yourself in the demographic

questionnaire. How have those served you in higher education? Give me

examples or tell me a story about how those qualities helped or hurt you.

9. What else should I know about your story that I haven’t asked or that you’d like

to tell me?

a. What were you hoping I would ask you today that I didn’t?

APPENDIX E POST-INTERVIEW E-MAIL

APPENDIX E POST-INTERVIEW E-MAIL

Hi (name of interviewee),

Attached is the transcript of our conversation from (date of interview).We have a

Research Bureau in the Kent State College of Education, so graduate student employees transcribed the tapes, and then I formatted/color coded the document.

I hope that you will take some time to review your comments (in color) for accuracy.

Let me know if there are any corrections/clarifications or any additional comments you'd like to make, (name). I purposely tried to speak very little that day, so large chunks of text are YOUR voice. : )

I noticed, too, there are various spots in all the transcripts where the transcriber wrote [inaudible], indicating he/ she couldn’t understand the words. I plan to listen to each interview again starting this weekend and follow along with this transcribed document. I hope to fill in any missing words.

Thanks a bunch!

--Rhonda

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APPENDIX F INTERVIEWEE BIOGRAPHIES AND PHOTOS

APPENDIX F INTERVIEWEE BIOGRAPHIES AND PHOTOS

Each interviewee completed a pre-interview demographic questionnaire and was asked to list adjectives to describe herself and her role in higher education and contingent faculty efforts toward academic labor justice. Those adjectives are listed before each short bio.

Mayra Besosa: “Persistent and Committed”

Mayra Besosa teaches Spanish at CalState San Marcos on renewable full-time three-year appointments. She presently chairs her California Faculty Association chapter Faculty Rights Committee and the AAUP Committee on Contingency and the Profession, where she participated in the drafting of the reports on Tenure and Teaching-Intensive Appointments (2009) and Inclusion in Governance of Faculty Members Holding Contingent Appointments (2012). She occasionally presents at workshops and conferences, such as COCAL and the AAUP Summer Institute and contributes essays and articles around issues of contingency. As someone with experience in both shared governance and collective bargaining, she is able to understand the obstacles to attaining equity among faculty in both contexts. Mayra holds a B.A. from Mt. Holyoke College and an M.A. & teaching credential from UC Irvine.

197 198

Ana M. Fores Tamayo: “Passionate”

Ana M. Fores Tamayo is ABD in Comparative Literature from NYU. She never completed her Ph.D. because motherhood got in the way—tenure and parenting do not mix. Thus she switched fields and worked in academic publishing for over 20 years in English, Language Arts, Reading, and later Spanish language translations, both school and college divisions. She missed academia, however, and decided to return, only to be shocked to find the Ivory Tower inhospitable to most educators. It did not take her long to take up the cause for contingent faculty. She began a petition for Adjunct Justice, now with over 5200 signatures, which grew into a Facebook forum for adjuncts to connect and organize. Fores Tamayo is part of the Board of Directors for the New Faculty Majority, trying to raise awareness and dedicated to advancing professional equity for adjunct and contingent faculty. She presented a paper on such issues at the Democracy and Education Convention held in Madison, Wisconsin in August, 2013. A version of this paper is scheduled for publication in the November 2013 issue of Women in Higher Education under the working title: ‘Adjuncts in the Academic Workforce.’ She will also have a subsequent article appearing in the People’s Tribune.

199

Maria Maisto: “Engaged and Passionate”

Maria Consuelo Maisto is the President of the New Faculty Majority (NFM): The National Coalition for Adjunct & Contingent Equity and Executive Director of the NFM Foundation. Since 2009, she has been an adjunct instructor of English at Cuyahoga Community College in Cleveland, OH. Maria is an AAUP member and serves on the Executive Committee of MLA’s Part-time Faculty Discussion Group. She is also co- chair of CCCC Committee on Part-time, Adjunct, or Contingent Labor. She holds an M.A. in English from Georgetown University and is ABD in Comparative Literature from the University of Maryland College Park.

200

Jeanette Jeneault: “Strident and Relentless”

“I have a long history of contingent labor activism. I grew up in a union family, my father was in the Communication Workers of America and our family endured two long strikes when I was growing up one two years, the other one year. My parents said you have to give back, fight for others, and never be afraid to speak up. In terms of my own university we had many allies mostly behind the scenes, but when no one would listen, I just kept talking offering ideas for others not caring who claimed them as long as they happened. I recall numerous times being asked why I was not afraid, and I answered either I don't know fear, or I am willing to take on the fight if they tried to do something about my speaking out. After a while being the "tall stalk" had its advantages. As the founding president of our part-time instructors union, I faced down disdain and overall lack of respect but our team kept going and would not take the 43 no's that comprised our first negotiation meeting with management. We never gave up. I never gave up. Still the fight goes on in so many states, and I want to recharge my persistence, why? Actually it is enjoyable, saying what everyone like me is thinking, to stare down the deans, the human resources people, the politicians, even those in the large teacher unions who are clueless and never blink. We all need to put fear behind us, and be brave, as one of my colleagues put it "What are they going to do? Take our lunch? They already have," but only if we let them.”

201

Marcia Newfield: “Feisty and Persistent”

For the past 25 years, Marcia Newfield has been an adjunct lecturer in the English department at the Borough of Manhattan Community College /CUNY (City University of New York). She has also taught at New Jersey City University and Long Island University. Marcia is a member of the AAUP (American Association of University Professors), AFT (American Federation of Teachers), the Modern Language Association (MLA), NYSUT (New York State United Teachers), and the PSC (Professional Staff Congress), the union for faculty and staff at CUNY, where she has been elected Vice President for Part-time Personnel since 2003. In addition, she serves on the Contingent Advisory Committees at AAUP and AFT. Marcia holds an MA in English Literature from New York University and a MS in Early Childhood Education from the Bank Street College of Education. The author of six children’s books, Marcia has also published articles about contingent faculty issues in the PSC newspaper, AAUP’s Academe, and Clarion. In 2012, she received the NYSUT Higher Education Member of the Year award. Marcia is very active with the Coalition of Contingent Academic Labor (COCAL) and serves on their international advisory committee. She is coordinator of COCAL XI which will be held in New York City in Summer 2014.Fores Tamayo

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Karen Thompson: “Fearless and Outspoken”

Karen Thompson led the organizing drive in the 1980s for more than 1000 part-time lecturers (PTLs / adjuncts) at Rutgers University to gain union representation. Since that time, PTL numbers have grown and six rounds of collective bargaining have dramatically improved the professional lives of PTLs at Rutgers. In her 35 years teaching part-time at RU, Karen has also represented PTLs in the University Senate, in the New Brunswick Faculty Council, and on a host of committees and task forces, as well as in union leadership. She has served on national Council for the AAUP, chaired committees on contingency for AAUP and CCCC, and published numerous articles on contingent faculty concerns including "Alchemy in the Academy: Moving Part-Time Faculty from Piecework to Parity" in C. Nelson's Will Teach for Food and "Faculty at the Crossroads: Making the Part-Time Problem a Full-Time Focus" in Schell and Stock's Moving a Mountain, as well as in NEA's Thought & Action and AAC&U's Peer Review. Karen is ABD in Arabic Linguistics from the University of Wisconsin-Madison where also she earned her undergraduate and master’s degrees.

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