July 13, 2005 Nomad Scholar

The Mystique of the Out-of-State Applicant

By Shari Wilson

Somehow I can’t get a job at the two colleges that I have worked with for years — yet I have been interviewed by phone and in-person at over a dozen colleges out-of-state. I have even received offers for full-time positions with a few of these colleges — one that I couldn’t resist. But my question is why am I irresistible to colleges where they don’t know me, yet I can’t seem to rate an interview where they already know what I am capable of?

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After sitting in on a number of hiring committees, attending a hiring committee training, and picking the brains of full-time professors at a number of campuses, I have already heard the obvious:

Mismatch of skills/experience/education: The campus where I have already proven myself has a focused set of qualifications they hope to fill and in some way, I didn’t fit the bill. When fellow adjuncts who have worked at my campus years less than me are hired, I had to look at their qualifications. Sometimes I wanted to point the finger and say, “Of course they hired her, she’s younger than me,” or “Well, they hired three women, now they have to hire a man.”

But the truth is that many of these chosen few had doctorates. They may have had education in areas that I do not; they may have had experience in areas I don’t have. Hiring committee members have confessed that
they were hoping to hire someone with a certain teaching style or pedagogy.

One hiring committee orientation actually instructed us with a handout with a point system for judging paper applications. Rather than being considered as a whole person, each applicant is scored on a point system for their qualifications. Their list indicated that a doctorate earned a certain number of points; being published in the field was worth so many points; minor publications worth just this many points; years of full-time experience was given these points, and part-time experience was only given these many points. Even professional development through workshops were given a certain weight, according to an applicant’s devotion and focus.

And committee work earned points, too. For many adjuncts I know, just surviving the semester is almost impossible. Saddled with 15 or 18 units, running from campus to campus to campus, they simply cannot
devote the time to writing — much less taking the time and money to send their materials out to be published. I am lucky to have been able to serve on one committee each semester — but I know that many part-timers simply cannot jam it into their schedules.

Even if they come and sit for an hour and a half during the time that the committee meets — how much can they offer to the committee? Can they work on a project and return the next week? Most likely not. It’s
a Catch-22. In order to survive, we have to scale back and stretch ourselves far too thin.

The result is that many hiring committees will pass us over for full-timers who have proven themselves somewhere else. It’s a painful truth. I realize that there is not a lot I can do about this except gain more experience, be mentored by those whose pedagogy I respect, try to be visible, write when I can, and hope someday to return to college to get a doctorate. Until then, I’m simply looking for the right fit with the right campus.

Poor alignment with the department’s beliefs: Quite simply, many adjuncts are passed over because the hiring committee, chair or dean believes that hiring someone “fresh” from outside the system will be a more
pliable member in the department. Surely a fresh-faced, new graduate is more apt to buy into the department’s policies and procedures without question than a cynical adjunct who already knows the system and may disagree with some of the department’s actions.

Even more seasoned applicants seem more willing to bend to the new campus’s ideas — if only because they are so grateful to have a job. Any feelings of discomfort about vague course outlines, excess committee work, expectations during “off-hours,” how grade review is handled, or uncomfortable interactions with other seasoned professors are dismissed as “new hire” jitters. Glad to have a real office, a set group of courses to teach and a chance at retirement, many do not question the department they have signed a contact to support.

True, years later their “true personality” may develop and they may question certain objectives. “Wait a minute, requiring more writing here does not ensure that the students are learning; in fact, I think there is a better way to achieve this,” or “a common exam will help us more than individual course assessment” may be a troubling sign for department chairs and deans who want to run a smooth operation.

The dissenting voice is not welcome — hence, many verbal adjuncts who argue with the chair about course outlines or question the status quo at committee meetings may find themselves constantly cast out of the
hiring process.

Indeed, many years ago, as a fresh adjunct at a major urban community college, I made a few abrupt comments at a committee meeting. Suddenly I was viewed as “loud.” Two of my friends in the department mentioned that years later, some had not forgotten my brash comments. Although hiring committees claim to be unblemished, picking applicants out of a stack without any personal bias, I believe there is so much room for subjectivity that when a number of applicants seem to have the same qualifications, a more meek, willing applicant will make the cut every time.

Thus, the senior professors, chairs and department heads feel more assured that what has worked for years will continue to work and their jobs will be easier without question.

Here is the component that I believe candidates and those hiring do not want to believe is a factor:

The Mystique Factor: When pushed, a few senior professors on hiring committees confessed that they “just thought hiring an out-of-stater” was a better deal. When they were unable to explain their choice, I
prodded further.

“So, what you’re saying, in essence, is that adjuncts you currently have on staff are sort of a ‘known evil?’” As all three hemmed and hawed, I finished, “and somehow this new person was going to serve as a cure-all to some of the department’s ills?”

One stepped up and said, “It’s like when you move. You choose this new place, and you might even buy a new house and it’s just so perfect.”

Both professors nodded in agreement. “Oh sure,” the first professor continued, “later you might find the water heater is on the blink, and the neighborhood is not so safe, but in your mind, it’s still a hell of a lot better than the place you left.”

Frankly, the X factor in hiring someone not currently on the payroll seems to be based on the idea that you’re going to get a heck of a lot better than what you’ve got here. It’s not just that a committee is searching for a candidate with better skills, more education or more experience — it’s that when faced with two comparable candidates, one on staff as an adjunct and one that is new to the campus, the committee cannot help but consider the unknown candidate as “better.”

It may sound crazy, but after interviewing a dozen committee members, all referred to some factor they could not define that drove them to choose the candidate they did not know. Possibly it’s based on the “Gee you interview well” syndrome. You know that one — on campus you wear a ragged linen skirt and a blouse that has seen better days. In an interview, of course, you wear your best suit and are on your best behavior. They can’t help but be impressed.

Yes, it’s true that the on-campus adjunct will dress up for an interview and remember to speak well, but the members of the committee can’t help but remember the time you came to class in jeans, the time you got silly at the office party, the time you stuck someone else with your writing center shift, the careless attitude you had about your paperwork, the fact that you didn’t put in $5 to the kitty for the department chair’s gift — the list goes on and on.

Even though committees are cautioned not to consider what they know about a candidate outside the interview room, they can’t help but think of each as a well-rounded person with faults. And the candidate from
outside? The committee only sees the shining star that they project for four hours during an interview process — and the fabulous way they look on paper.

Unlike the adjunct, who may have some shortcomings, the outsider cannot help but look good in comparison. After all, they’ve never been reprimanded for making too many copies on the office copier, having their stapler stolen every semester, and forgetting to turn in census sheets in time. This is not to say that the outside applicant doesn’t have defects — they’re just not visible. Yet.

It’s possible that I’m being too harsh. But my own experience as an out-of-state candidate is that somehow I am valued there, whereas here I am passed over. To explore the reasons helps me make sense out of what one of my colleagues calls, “a non-sensical process.” He claims that hiring is like throwing darts at a board and if you want to score, the only thing you can do is get your number out there on more boards.

I am lucky that I was able to consider an out-of-state position. An adjunct friend of mine at a four-year university is saddled with two children and a wife who is not working. Even though he applied to a campus in Southern California, he confessed to me, “Well, even if they wanted to interview me, I’d never find the time to go.” With 16 units at two campuses ruling his life, he cannot even take the time to fly or drive to invest in a full-time future with another campus.

Over cafeteria food, he said, “And they’d never be able to adjust — my family. Her doctors are here. Their grandparents are here.” He trailed off while eating, “I’m not even sure why I wasted my time filling out
all the materials.”

I nod, sadly. I hear his pain, I sense his trouble, yet suddenly I am dimly aware that I was lucky to be able to spend 15 hours a week going over the ads, filling out the application materials, writing yet another original essay on diversity and sending in a packet of information to another campus. At least I had the chance to make my materials visible to more committees. At least I had the ability and motivation to try and secure a full-time job and settle down.

On a slightly less negative note, I really do believe that fate had a lot to do with my recent decision to accept a non-tenured, full-time instructor position at a university in the Midwest. Even though I only applied to 25 out of the 48 states in the U.S., I really did cast the net wide. At the time, I absolutely believed that the opportunity that I chose would benefit the students, the campus and myself in some way I could not yet visualize. When asked by a committee of a four-year institution from this under-populated state, I could only reiterate their virtues (that I had found online) and say that I truly believed that I would be put where I will do the most good. I still believe that.

By applying to a number of campuses across the nation, I not only increased my chances of being hired, I also opened myself up to the opportunities that will make me a better teacher — and serve a group of students who most need me. It’s a strange, settling notion.

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