I’ve just finished reading “The Secret Lecturer; What Really Goes on at University”. I’d been thinking about reading it for a while, and selected it to see whether it gave an accurate reflection that might be interesting to doctoral students interested in pursuing an academic career.
Structured as a diary (although reflecting a much longer time period) I really struggled to put the book down. It was so easy to see aspects of my own institute reflected in the entries. One of my favourite entries may be familiar to many of you already:
“A briefing from our executive dean of faculty. She uses all the grimmest HE newspeak. The word innovative now means something that could turn a profit. Creativity is bandied about by dullards. Every event, from the smallest convocation about new library holdings to large showcases of research, has to be called a festival – as if it will involve crowd-surfing and ecstasy. What used to be dubbed rooms or offices are now hubs.
…
In the Q&A, colleagues ask reasonable questions, when will the ancient – and possibly hazardous – lights in the basement be updated? Will lecturers be given any more time for research? How do we all improve student attendance? The replies are feeble. One of the nonsense answers is ‘we’ll be cascading that concern upwards’”.
Not only have I been in meetings like this, every colleague I know in academia – both in the UK and overseas – has commented on language like this being used in their own institutes. It reflects the growing managerialism and corporatisation of the academy which has been going on as long as I have been a lecturer.
I would strongly recommend the book to anyone thinking about an academic career – it highlights many of the nonsense issues you will have to deal with, and some of the challenges of trying to pass on your knowledge to a student base which – in the UK at least – is increasingly thought of as customers.
That said, I have three more positive statements to make. The first is that it is easy to look back into some imaginary era where everything was better. Talking to colleagues who have been working in academia for longer than I have, there have always been challenges to deal with. While many of us struggle with the current ethos of many institutes and individuals, I am unconvinced it was actually better 30 years ago.
The details of the critiques of the secret lecturer are accurate and reflected across the academy. However, our training hones our critical analysis to a fine point – rare is the gathering of academics where everyone agrees on all items of discussion. Our ability to critique and think of alternative futures is to some extent what makes us academics. Even in a context where everything was perfect for academic X, I’m sure academic Y could find something to complain about.
The final positive statement is that I love my job. Complain as I do to colleagues, friends, and family, I still believe academia is a fantastic career. The freedom to explore personal passions, the satisfaction when a cohort of students graduate having learnt something from you, the joy of supervising PhD students – these are all wonderful experiences. Most days, I wake up and have complete freedom as to what to focus on that day, outside of certain teaching responsibilities. I can improve the courses I teach on, progress papers I’m writing, work on mentoring personal tutees or doctoral students – or read wonderful (or sometimes terrible) books that change the way I think.
So read the book – laugh at the inanities, and wince in sympathy at the madness it expresses. But remember that while it tells a compelling story, it is only telling part of that story.