Sorry, the Job’s Been Filled

 Tell me if you’re heard this one before:

I don’t remember exactly what she said to me. All I heard was “full-time”.

Two new non-tenure-track (NTT) positions had opened up in the department, specifically for creative writing. One of them in poetry. The deadline to submit applications was in a week.

I thought to myself, Why am I only hearing about this now? Was there an email announcement that I missed?

I reached out to a couple of colleagues: did you know about the positions? Were you planning to apply? None of them knew about these openings.

My colleague who mentioned it to me had already submitted her application over a month ago. So odd.

Still, after working well over a decade in this department, I thought to myself, finally!!

I had a shot at full-time.

Now, one might ask why I stayed in one place as an adjunct professor. Why didn’t I try to find a full-time job elsewhere?

For those not familiar with the academic job market, it’s not so easy. Statistically, there are far more candidates (often overqualified) than there are jobs. Wildly, disproportionately so.

And here was my shot. 

I couldn’t say for certain, but I wanted to believe that the department was looking to hire internally. So, I hopped to it. A complete dossier in one week. Could it be done? I was about to find out.

I reached out to two friends who were both tenured professors and “famous” established poets and pulled in HUGE favors to write letters of recommendation for me. This was a big ask because of the short timeline AND it was during rec letter season, which is also during the end-of-semester crunch. We all were already strapped.

They both agreed and wrote amazingly glowing letters for me. I felt so humbled and honored to have friends who held me in high esteem. And for them to proclaim this with a quick turnaround has me enterally grateful.

Fortunately, I already had a draft of my teaching philosophy statement, which only needed minor revisions. Then I had to revise my CV and pull together a writing sample. This, on top of meeting one-on-one with students about their final portfolios, teaching yoga, and being a mom (which includes taxi services, grocery shopping, chef responsibilities, you know, all the things!). Oh, and did I mention it was Christmas season? So yes. That too.

Needless to say, I pulled it all together and submitted my application on time.

But then there was a little snafu.

The online portal had closed. I was under the impression that I had until 5pm, but it turned out that the portal was scheduled to close at noon. I had submitted my materials at 11:55am. Or at least I tried.

I reached out to one of the department’s administrative assistants to ask about it. She reached out to the faculty member responsible for the hiring and told me to bring my materials to her office. She would physically add them to the other applications.

I wasn’t on campus that day, but since I was determined to get this job, I was willing to drive out there and hand-deliver my documents. Thankfully, the assistant told me to email my materials directly to her; she’d print them out for me and put them in the pile.

I let out a small sigh of relief. I was grateful for small things.

In hindsight, I wonder if there were any other applications besides my own and that of my colleague.

A few days later, I was called to schedule an interview for the following week.

I will admit that prior to this call, there was a small voice inside me that wondered if I’d even land an interview.

*

I sat across from her, my supervisor, who was the director of creative writing. The mahogany desk between us. I’ve known her the whole time I’ve been at this institution. She was the one who initially hired me for the adjunct position all those years ago. She’s seen me through the birth of my three children and has always been a champion for me when people, including students, would challenge me. We have had a great relationship.

The interview was casual. A conversation between long-time colleagues.

She mentioned my letters of recommendation. One of them she couldn’t help but go on and on about it, how impressed she was with this letter written by someone she also personally knew. A glowing recommendation, she said more than once.

We talked about the future of creative writing, what visions she had for it in the department, how these two new positions were just the first steps. It was a good conversation.

She’d be in touch, she said.

*

Do I have to tell you that I didn’t get the job?

Do I have to tell you that there are minor differences between my application and that of my colleague?

When I asked the director how she came to make her decision—what was the deciding factor?—she said something about union work. How my colleague was involved in union work. I’m not exactly sure how that determines whether one is the best candidate for a teaching position or not. 

Do I have to tell you that my course evaluations were significantly higher than that of my colleague? (Ask me how I know.)

Do I have to tell you that my colleague does not have children?

Do I have to tell you that my colleague was white?

No. Of course not.

And never mind that there was no actual hiring committee (which is standard practice in the academic hiring process… unless it’s different for NTT positions?), that it was just the director.

We all saw this coming. I saw it coming.

But I refused to see it. I refused to give up or give in. I went in hard like a dark horse coming up from behind.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

But, it also did.

It mattered that I tried. It mattered that I put myself out there, full force. (When I told my colleague I had applied, she looked nervous.) It mattered because I saw the system for what it really was with my own eyes, instead of speculation (though, to be honest, I’m not that naïve to believe otherwise, but there’s something to be said for first-hand experience.). It confirmed that I wasn’t crazy, that I wasn’t imagining things, that indeed systemic racism is more insidious than any one of us thinks. 

It didn’t feel good. I’ll tell you that much.

What I learned is that I have it in me to get what I want, no matter what else is going on in my life (I mean, Christmas season! That is insane enough as it is!). I learned how to go ALL IN. I also learned that what I think I want isn’t always what I really want. (Did I, my soul-self, really want to work full-time in academia?)

I’ve also learned that when one door shuts a thousand windows fling wide open.

This experience has given me the balls to stop giving a shit about what other people think, to teach how I want to teach, to speak my mind freely, and just BE me. For that, I am truly grateful.

*

How many of us can say that? Can say “thanks, racism!”? (I’m joking.) Not a whole lot of people. But we can build the resilience to not let it affect us as we continue to create the lives we’re truly meant to have—one in which we thrive in health and in abundance!

*

This is part of the Maverick Monday series, where I talk about healing trauma (micro and macro) through the lens of a woman writer of color (that’s me!). Each week, I’ll share a personal story from my healing journey in the hopes that others will find comfort in knowing that they are not alone. I hope that by doing this, you can see that YES! Racial healing—true, lasting, deep healing--- IS possible and that you can thrive in your life, living as your most authentic self without shrinking from the world. If you’re interested learning how to do that, my program Heal to Power can help! Check the site for more details: https://suryagian.com/heal-to-power-waitlist. Enrollment is open this week and this week ONLY!