Adulthood Sucks (and so does adjunct-hood)

Remember that sweatshop essay you wrote for freshman composition? Or, if you didn’t write one, certainly your classmates did--I’ve read multiple versions of this essay in portfolio committees and General Education Assessment Review committees.

No doubt, you pointed to unfair conditions, substandard wages, and blamed callous CEOs whose only concern was the almighty dollar—let any unhappy workers leave. You probably noted that those CEOs cited even worse conditions elsewhere—hell, those workers were damn lucky to work for these low wages, as it let them climb out of poverty.

If you were particularly insightful, you noted that those CEOs work for share holders who expect a robust return on their investments, and thus, share holders, not specifically CEOs, should be held accountable. Perhaps you even realized that a free market economy would not likely achieve equitable treatment, and hence government would need to intervene (I haven’t read many of those essays).

In the case of education, you are all those share holders. Despite how people like to complain about it, you elect the government. The school boards run the schools, the governor runs SUNY (The State University of New York)—but YOU elect these “CEOs.”

SUNY colleges—universities, ag/tech colleges, community colleges—all rely on sweatshop labor. We call them adjunct professors, and we pay them around $2600 per course, or based on the work load of full time professors (three courses per term), just over $15,000 a year. Statewide, roughly 60% of instructors are so paid. (And while SUNY colleges offer these people health insurance, many others in community colleges go without.)

A few departments in a few colleges have consistently fought against such glaring injustice, pioneering and expanding, for example, hiring adjuncts as full time lecturers. Yet even here, although this development is certainly welcome, the sweatshop continues. Full time lecturers are paid just over $30,000 to teach four courses per term, and they are denied access to tenure. Thus, many of them will work, grateful they can at least pay the bills, but will retire in poverty with little to no savings. Others cover their liability by continuing to teach as many as six courses a term at other institutions ON TOP of their full time obligations, as well as a wide assortment of outside occupations--all to earn just what a typical full professor earns, but at the expense of their personal lives.

Additionally, English professors in particular do so at virtually impossible odds. First year students arrive, convinced they know everything about writing, unable to identify the subject and verb of a sentence, let alone write a specific thesis statement, angry at instructors who challenge them to grow, annoyed they have to take writing courses at all. Even worse perhaps, I consistently see Juniors and Seniors—English majors, Professional Writing majors, Education majors and so forth—who can’t write without such basic errors as comma splice run-ons, subject/verb agreement, pronoun/antecedent agreement, misplaced modifiers, faulty parallelism—let alone effective paragraphs, sentences, rhetorical purpose. Those instructors who push this face the wrath of students seeking the easiest way through their course work possible, encouraged by administrative policies that abdicate responsibility for oversight to the course evaluation forms students complete at the end of each course, thus encouraging faculty to teach to make students happy, rather than prepare them for the outside world. So we graduate students who can’t write.

Well, suppose students want to learn in such an environment: where are all these instructors in the face of such obstacles? In their cars, on the way to their next college job—or jobs.

The pattern isn’t new—why are so many high school graduates, “A” papers in hand, so poorly prepared? Large class sizes, overly protective parents, ideologically focused school boards? Hard to tell—probably several interlocking reasons.

Here’s where you, the share holder, come in.

Changing this takes money. This means paying more in taxes—or giving up other services. I can complain all I want about my “bill burden,” but my choices are (1) increase income or (2) cut expenses. Government is no different.

Here’s the reality—you own a sweatshop. What will you do?

Is education important? Are fair employment practices? Is this what you want for your family, your community, your society?

We frequently see complaints about high taxes, but we pay a fraction of the taxes most industrial nations pay (we are also the ONLY industrial nation without national health care!). Washington keeps touting tax cuts to stimulate the economy, but ignores the growing discrepancy between rich and poor since the Reagan fallacy, admitted by his own people, created by the “trickle down” economics preached by the much more cynical Bush administration? Have you noticed that each federal tax cut costs you more locally? And for all those complaints about high taxes in New York—have you lived in other states? Yes, the taxes may be lower—and you also can’t get the services New Yorkers enjoy.

Sure, the mantra drones on about wasted government money. Yet, the U.S. spends more on the military than EVERY NATION ON EARTH COMBINED. Overkill?

Here’s the point—as a citizen, you are the shareholder. You, implicitly, agree with these developments. You, the shareholder, could also decide to instruct your “board of directors” otherwise. You could make it clear that education is a priority in New York State, or in whatever state or country you live, and that running sweatshops is not acceptable.

Or was that freshman composition essay just talk?

Writer

Bloggin’ for Nothin’ (and the clicks are free)

A few months ago, I started a blog. Primarily, I wanted a place to write away from the distractions of work place politics, mere reactions to discussion board debates, and generally other people’s expectations about what I should write, all colored by what I’ve written, where I’ve written and so forth. I chose to blog anonymously, without benefit of reputation, resume (or infamy). Only a few of my closest and most trusted friends and colleagues know my blog address (I wanted to feel free to write about anything), so I couldn’t start with the boost of predictable readers. I had to start from scratch.

I didn’t get around to a counter for a week or two, but I received a comment right away—people had found my blog. I certainly wasn’t above promoting my new endeavor, and I added the URL to the tagline of a discussion board I frequent. Success—I received several warm emails from those folks, now regular readers. Still, traffic was irregular, so when I had a few minutes a week or so ago, I explored blog visibility, and came across BlogCatalog. What fun! Suddenly I had gmail from people I’d never met (I’m still working my way through those folks), daily comments from other bloggers, and interesting discussions from nice, intelligent, like-minded people. I was quickly seduced and addicted.

Nothing is perfect, though. MUCH of these discussions focus on “add me and I’ll add you” trades to boost blog ratings on friends lists, neighborhoods, Technorati, StumpleUpon, Digg and so forth. “Link me and I’ll link you.” Well, no real harm—just people cooperating, right?

Such a prevalent practice can only create a backlash. Start with ratings. When I see a highly rated site, I don’t assume it’s a great site—I assume someone’s good at cooking the books. When I find a blogger I like, I don’t check the friends and neighborhoods, as they aren’t necessarily recommendations at all—the blogger may not have even viewed the site. And what about the people who’ve linked to my site or my pieces in good faith—people might well ignore those links as logrolling.

I’ve been assuming, of course, that bloggers want readers, when presumably, many bloggers seek high ratings to maximize ad revenue. Many sites carry so many ads that I’ve stopped reading those blogs, simply because I don’t want to wait for all those ads to load. Indeed, some blogs take so long to load that I gave up before they finished (unread). Yes, I visit some web sites with many ads—but that’s when I’m deliberately shopping, not regularly. Even then, for example, I use Amazon over Barnes and Noble because it loads so much faster. I do read the New York Times online, and yes, it features a number of ads and takes a while to load. However, it’s also rich in content, justifying the wait. A blog updated daily, even an excellent blog, just doesn’t have that same pull.

I’m not looking for clicks—I want steady readers. I want them to enjoy my posts. I want them to bookmark my blog. I want them to recommend this blog to other readers. I want them to visit every day or few. I want them to dig through the archives. I want them to read because it’s a good read, because they’re interested, not just click to trade a favor.

I’m reminded of my music business experience. I recorded three albums, found a distributor, and enjoyed sales from Alaska to Georgia. As the independent market grew, the distributors started selling ad space to artists in their catalogs—and as the market grew more, the ad prices skyrocketed. I did the math, and realized that while I needed ads to maintain sales, at those rates, I’d essentially be buying my own project. I’d be working for nothing (I was also the manufacturer). Since the money was more important than my ego’s desire to distribute my work, I folded the enterprise. The business was no longer about selling independent music to the public—it was about selling ad space to hungry musicians.

Similarly, blog ads are fine, per se, but counterproductive. Blogging for ad revenue is an open market. Readership is spread thin, and only likely to become more so as more people blog. I read very few blogs regularly (only so many hours in the day), preferring quirky, imaginative, well-written blogs with reasonable load times. I never click on the ads.

Plans for easy riches come and go, come and go. From Amway to churning real estate, people are always ready to exploit others’ dreams of waiting wealth, the dreamers rarely stopping to think that if all were that easy, why wouldn’t the dream mongers just engage in more of the same practice themselves? Placing ads on blogs IS a good idea—for Google and other providers of that service. After all—do YOU click on blog ads? Advertisers can still be happy—they get seen, and repetition is rule one in advertising. The service providers collect fees. All those bloggers see all those ads. Success, but make no mistake—bloggers are the customers, not the suppliers.

Certainly I can see ways to successfully commercialize a blog. This would mean writing about products and pastimes that people with money who use the Internet for shopping would regularly purchase (technology comes to mind). You’re a free lance salesperson working for commission—not a great job. I suppose it could work out with genuine interests—a hiker composing reviews of new equipment, for example (although somebody’s got to foot the bill for that equipment)—but if you’re going into sales, this is just not the best approach.

If my purpose were income, I’d fold the blog and start a webzine. Why look for a few clicks? Get readers there and keep them there! You could then pack the site with ads (as long as you paid attention to design with an eye toward load time). Readers could visit multiple times, and with live content, the ‘zine could always stay fresh. Instead of posting ad links, SELL advertising space! Make deals to sell their product for a share of the margin! Use the revenue to hire more writers, web designers and salespeople as required. If you’re going into sales, GO there! Don’t ignore your creative side—create a great publication, and you can sell subscriptions too.

Or, you could start yet another blog telling other bloggers how to make major money by adding ad links and cooking the books. You’ll have lots of customers.

Writer