Despite my relatively grandiose status in the world of academe–I am the Interim Director of something or another–I do not have a permanent job. My honey thinks this is funny, because I have worked at the same IHE since 1998, and no one seems inclined to fire me. But, I do not have the blessed “tenure-track” job and essentially serve in my current position “at the will of the Dean.”

The Dean is a good woman, whom I like, trust, and respect. (A rare combo, indeed). She’s trying to get me my current job permanently. Yesterday we were talking about some of the details and she said, “just don’t screw up.” I resisted the temptation go drop my head into my hands and list all of the things I thought I had screwed up in the last week or so.

The “something or another” program is an interdisciplinary one. Our students take classes across campus from many different departments and programs. For the past two days, one of those programs, run by a new coordinator who trembles more than I’d like her to, has become a royal pain in my interim director butt. The imminently sensible Assistant Director of something or another suggested I talk to the Associate Dean. When she suggested that course of action, the Dean’s face and words came flying back into my head.

University faculty are an odd bunch. They’re smart, to be sure. But often that intelligence gets them in a corner of their own thinking from which they cannot emerge. I like smart, I appreciate it when it’s used right. I also like the people who like being at our IHE and don’t long to be at UCLA or Berkeley or Stanford or Harvard. Damn, did I just give away that I don’t work at any of those places?

I’m going to have to spend the next few months waiting for the search for my job to be over. I’m going to try not to screw up, but if I focus on it too much, I probably will. Now, I have a phone call to make. Trembly coordinator is going to have to take care of her own business.

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