Cutting off other futures

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I'm having trouble not caring.

I was fired1 in March. I've witnessed a series of poor decisions that have crushed staff and faculty morale and negatively impacted students. I've seen in-fighting over the scraps the administration/Board dangles over our heads. And every time a new bad thing comes, I say, "This is it. I'm done."

But I'm not done. I keep fighting it. I keep resisting these changes. Sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly, but always pushing back.

I am appealing the decision to fire me. It is a tedious process. It was not made for my benefit. It feels specifically designed to discourage its own use. Somehow the hostility makes me want to keep pressing forward. Like I need to know what's on the other side of a fence marked "Keep out."

There are so many things wrong in the world right now that my complaints feel insignificant. People are dying in Gaza. The US Senate Republicans are pretending the Jan 6 insurrection was no big deal. Black people keep getting killed by police. Nikole Hannah-Jones was just denied tenure by the trustees of UNC-Chapel Hill despite being phenomenally qualified. The pandemic isn't over.

But my problems are still problems, and their size in the scheme of the world does not render them insignificant to my life. The injustices here2 are not absolved by their mundanity.

Still, I wish I could stop caring, and let go. When layoffs were imminent last fall, I started looking for jobs. Now I have actually started applying, and the difference feels immense. When browsing job postings, everything is possible, but submitting an application is making a decision. I recall something I read in a middle school English textbook: decision and scissors are cognates. The meaning of that shared cis root is "to cut off." When you make a decision, you cut off other futures and possibilities.

When I decide to apply to jobs elsewhere, I am cutting off possible futures here. And that process is hard and painful and scary.

I know that staying is an unlikely option. I know that things are Not Good at this university, and even if I could stay, it is probably not wise to stay. But it's still hard to go.

1: I was informed that my contract would not be renewed and that I've been moved from a tenure-track position to a term position

2: The injustices are not only to me, but also to my colleagues: 11 others fired, 6 denied tenure decisions (not denied tenure, denied even a decision about tenure), 19 more without hope of tenure for years, all justified with specious claims about the "needs of the University both now and into the future"

All work and no play

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I spent the fall semester on maternity leave. My daughter arrived in August, a new and wondrous source of joy in my life. I needed weeks to recover physically from the stresses of childbirth, and months to figure out what my life looks like with another little person in it. The first few times the three of us (my baby, my husband and I) left the house, it felt like an endeavor. The first time I took Sweet Pea out on my own was a monumental challenge. With time and practice, it’s all gotten easier. You can get used to almost anything if you do it enough – like wake up in the middle of the night every night for months.

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