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(An audio version of this blog may be accessed here.) As scholar/teachers, we must have and be able to articulate our intellectual project. It is good if it happens in the early career stages of a scholarly career, but it is never too late. A scholar’s intellectual project is: the philosophical cornerstone of their scholarly career the 50,000 foot/big picture pursuit of their intellectual work the grounding of their work the perennial question, issue, the quest the epistemological guiding-star for decision-making toward that which the scholar works their entire career; their scholarly passion and intellectual haunting, that which they are interested in—regardless of their status or season of their career. The intellectual project is your big pursuit, your big idea. Your intellectual project is why you wanted to be a scholar and why you continue in scholarship. There will always be smaller, contributory ventures which engage, address, and actualize your central inquiry or question, BUT those smaller schemes are never the whole of your intellectual project. They may satisfy an aspect or element of your intellectual aspiration. However, the desire of your intellectual inquiry is bigger, much bigger, than any one expression created as a single book, journal article, course offering, or artistic rendering. The key is to be able to articulate the most basic description of your intellectual project. This is a necessary to your scholarship and to participating in a scholarly community. Your intellectual project, over the course of your career, and over the seasons of your work, will refine, deepen. The project might even shift and change. Regardless of these potential changes and shifts, your articulation of your principal project is paramount.   An intellectual project is not: a single job or your career; on the contrary, your places of employment are in service to your project a single grant proposal or committee accomplishment a single publication or panel participation defined by your approaches to your scholarship; the methodologies of engagement of your project are not the project dependent upon nor redundant to the conversation in your academic field; your project is meant to add to the conversation already in the field. You need a boiler plate speech. Your project must be articulatable in 3 to 7 sentences. You should have a succinct paragraph that describes, in its most basic, your intellectual project. This is as much for your own comfort and focus as for those who will ask you about your work. Knowing your project, as well as being able to succinctly communicate your project, allows you to work your project. This work is not easy. Your intellectual project’s articulation might feel elusive or vague. Intellectual projects can be bold/ “in your face”/dazzling. They can also be coy, temperamental, and evasive. Knowing your project is good—being able to articulate your project is what is needed; articulation may take time and great effort. Questions to spark, encourage, point toward clarity of articulation of your intellectual project: What is your curiosity? Or, to what are you compelled? To what are you called? What are your perennial questions? What are your big, philosophical, epistemological questions that are worth spending a career or lifetime pursuing? What issues would you study/explore/interrogate/pursue with or without salary? What agenda do you bring to every job? Toward what questions or issues do you bend every job, all writing, and all your courses? What has broken your heart and so now, to mend your heart, what will your scholarship be about? What is your immortal wound, and how are you saving your own life through scholarly pursuit? What, for a lifetime, will you resist, protest, contest, and fight against? What wrong will you right? What makes you so mad that you spring into action – especially the action of intellectual work and scholarly labor? What is your vision for the new world and how will this vision be embodied by your scholarship? At the end of your life, when you look back over your long and illustrative career, to what did you say yes? What is the pattern of your yes-saying and what can you glean as having been your project? Who is your inspiration and what was/is their project? How will you attach to it; fulfill it? What is the intersection of your gifts/talents with the mighty needs of the world? Why did your people send you to school? For them, what will be your scholarly accomplishment and contribution? How will your scholarship liberate your people? Intellectual projects are often vivid to other people, ask someone who knows you and your work. What do they believe your project is? Going through a search process routinely helps with clarifying your intellectual passion, focus, and intent. These processes force you to articulate your vision, perspective, aspirations, and scholarly itches. Consider applying for a job and see what happens with articulating your intellectual project. Beyond participating in a search process, consider the following to assist with coming to know and articulate your project: Write and rewrite a mission statement, write an elevator speech, write in simple prose, 3 to 7 sentences; practice those sentences on family, friends, and colleagues until they make sense to them and have resonance with you. In question format—create a list of 50 to 100 questions which frame your curiosity and pursuits, then cull the list down to the questions you want to pursue for years to come. In poetic or in creative forms, design a rendition of your intellectual project, then contemplate it; after contemplation, write your paragraph. If your scholarly project is woven into a course, assign students the task of mapping, charting, postering or displaying the basic concepts of the course. This allows you a perspective to see what you talk about when you talk about what you talk about. Often our students know our work of thinking better than we do. Invite several faculty colleagues to create public or digital displays of their intellectual projects then host a gathering to explore and celebrate the current and future work of the colleague. Plan several recorded conversations with a trusted colleague who will dialogue with you as you think through, think out loud, and articulate. Re-read your dissertation. Use that as a springboard to say what you are, actually, about.

To listen to this blog, click here.  Those of us serving on faculties cannot escape the deep influence of the culture of the school upon our scholarship. Where you teach has as much to do with your scholarly formation as what you teach. The location of the doing of your scholarship will allow or deny your sense of belonging, rootedness, and contribution.  For this reason, we must develop a curiosity for our context and an imagination for elsewhere. Ask yourself: What is this place to me? What has this place been for those like me? Is there a healthier place for me and my work? In the early years of my career, participation in Wabash Center afforded me conversations on scholarly identity and formation for which my place of employment did not know how to provide. The lack of mentoring I received from my school was in no way unique. They were not neglectful. I have come to understand that few schools in higher education provide in-depth, intentional faculty formation. Wabash Center programming, then and now, fills a gap for networking and provides opportunities for critical reflection and planning. We provide exposure for faculty to the varieties of pedagogical approaches and dialogue for ways of achieving those approaches. These conversations are often life-giving and career-saving. Routinely, Wabash Center provides a space to prepare you for knowing your place. Faculty are taught the importance of learning to read the context in which they are employed. We dissuade colleagues from thinking that the performance of, and achievements in, scholarship can be thought of as being generic or universal. No two schools are the same. All schools have known procedures as well as unspoken expectations, whispered secrets, and under-tapped resources. I remember it clearly. It was an assignment that substantially impacted my career. The assignment given our cohort group in my first Wabash Center workshop was to: compile all the institutional documents to which you are privy (e.g. faculty handout, tenure process and procedure instructions, promotion process, school mission statement, organizational chart, statement of charter, history, accreditation report(s), etc.), read all the compiled documents and take notes as you read, consider your given context, and now create a map/plan of your (1) teaching, (2) service, and (3) scholarship for 1 year, 3 years, 5 years, 7 years. We were instructed to return to next summer’s gathering with a thoughtful plan for our own scholarship in our own contexts. I tell you confessionally, but not ashamedly, that if I had not been given this assignment at Wabash, I would not have made an intentional study of my location, nor would I have created a clear path for my scholarship. Fulfilling this assignment gave me insights that I did not know I needed.  When I compiled and read the university materials, I gained knowledge of the place that I had not previously known and that had not been made clear to me.  Creating my map lowered my anxiety about the tenure process. The exercise made me more articulate about who I was as a scholar, and what I wanted for myself in my scholarly pursuits. My aspirations became vivid. It was a kind of liberation. And so, more than twenty years later, I am instructing our Associate Directors to develop a map, a plan, a schedule that reflects and actualizes their aspirations and hopes for their own scholarship. They cannot, must not, wait for me to shape them into my image. Their scholarly identity must be in their own hands and hearts.  They will have to decide if rooting their work in the place of Wabash Center satisfies the need of their soul. Here are nine reflection questions I offered to them:   What does it mean to understand your work as scholarship? What, for you, is the production of new knowledge? What does it mean to see yourself as a scholar of religion? How does your family make sense of your profession? How does your community make sense of this profession? What do you imagine to be the advantages and disadvantages of your career for your loved ones? How will you keep connected to your family as you do this work? Thinking in metaphors or similes, what scholarly identity are you imagining and pursuing? Since scholarship is typically organized and judged in activities of teaching, service, and research/publication – how will you pursue each of these elements? Be specific. Are there other scholarly pursuits beyond these three elements that are of interest? What expressions of scholarship, or discrete projects, do you want to pursue in the next 2 years, 5 years, 10 years? How do these projects fit into the institutional narrative and mission? What are the obstacles to these pursuits? Who are your scholarly conversation partners? Who are your mentors? What is your scholarly niche, specialty, focus, expertise, and how does this specialty align with your institutional context? What will it take for your flourishing? What are the prerequisites for your healing? What are the needed habits and practices to support your scholarly aspirations and plans? How do you nurture your imagination, creativity, and artistry? Be mindful that a plan is meant to guide and not to constrain. Plans will change as new opportunities are recognized and as your context ebbs and flows. Be mindful that the place that prefers scholars who are indifferent or passive about their own formation will likely react to your exercise of agency and self-determination. Be mindful that few can call the academy home – so most are strangers in this strange land. Healthy formation in academic places requires forethought, provisions, anticipation, and time. We must have our own best interests at heart lest we be tossed and entangled by others’ agendas for our ideas, our labors, our souls.

To listen to this blogpost, click here.  Gray. The fog, thick and dreary, descended in late December. In early January, the artic blast assaulted with negative temperatures prolonged over consecutive days. Unrelenting gray. Consuming gray. Days of gray have now turned into weeks of gray. Relief from ice and snow has come in the form of days of downpouring rains – with temperatures still below freezing. Today, the expected high is 36 degrees Fahrenheit, that feels like 32 degrees Fahrenheit, with continued dense fog and forecasted 80% chance of precipitation tomorrow. It has been a prolonged—too long—moment of melancholy—dull, grim, and bleak. Then it happened... A few days ago I received a text from a beloved friend that read, Hi Lynne, I accidentally had a book sent to your house. It’s called (title of book). I’ve read it before, a borrow from the library. It’s pretty … wild. But you may like it. Hope you like it. [Red Heart Emoji] Surprise! Suddenly, the gloom was challenged by a bit of intrigue. A surprise book, an accidental book, was coming to my door. I needed a surprise book, especially if it was “wild.” Sure enough, that day the Amazon delivery person dropped the book on my porch. Immediately, I started reading. Immediately, I discovered a new author. Immediately, my spirits lifted. There is something about surprise--when it is pleasant--that combats the dreariness of the season. A surprise can chase the blues away or at least make the blues melodic and survivable. Teaching in the dead of winter can sometimes mean teaching in prolonged frigid weather. Winter can be both real and metaphoric to describe our environments. We know that our bodies, minds, spirits react with and are affected by light, temperature, barometric pressure, and precipitations. Being mindful of your own mood and the moods of your students is part of classroom management and good teaching practices.  Consider, when the moods are gray, planning a surprise. Too often planned surprises in courses are punitive—like surprise quizzes or surprise tests. That is not what I am talking about. I am talking about surprises that delight, intrigue, and bring some welcome relief from the long, too long, winter. When I received the marvelous book surprise from my friend, I was reminded of the ways I would attend to my own blue moods while teaching. I recalled some of the ways I would make gestures to bolster my students’ moods in the middle of the winter. I would, for them and for me, change the tempo of the course, introduce something or someone unexpected, and nurture a lighter-hearted atmosphere. Somehow, and most times, these gestures of care shifted us for the better. Here are a few examples of ways I went about changing pace and surprising my students: Brought a basket of chocolate to class to be passed; enough chocolate for all to have much Planned a spontaneous change of venue - moved the class session to the library, to the gym, to a science lab, or to a lobby of the building to sit on couches Invited a surprise guest lecturer; lecturer was the author of the book being read, former student who had done well in the course, local celebrity, Dean, Provost or President to discuss the topic of the course Planned a potluck or moved to the refectory for class—shared a meal during the class On a few occasions I brought my collie dog named Max to class. He was a warm and gentle giant who, as students arrived in the room, happily greeted those who wanted to play, then Max laid down at the door and slept until break when he received more pets and cuddles. Max’s presence lifted many spirits of students, and their glee made me smile. On several occasions, I thought of a class session as being like the “Free Parking” space in a monopoly game. Rather than what was planned for that session, I invited students to gather up their thoughts, questions, concerns, and we discussed whatever they wanted to discuss. Anything that came up! My conversation prompt would be—where are you in this learning? What have you learned thus far? Or I would suspend the planned session and gather students around (change in seating pattern) and ask them so what? /now what? questions. I would ask, how do you make meaning of this newly glimpsed perspective or new concepts? How does this affect your thinking, being, doing? What does your community, family, tribe think of what we are discussing? Is any of this valuable to your community? Brought art supplies to class and invited students, rather than taking notes, to draw, color, sketch, or work with play dough throughout the lecture Shifted to a skill-based lesson. What skills have you noticed that students do not possess, but you need them to be able to do? For example, good student skills of reading comprehension, writing skills, questioning skills. Showed a film complete with popcorn, soda, and candies Read aloud children’s books, poetry, or short stories You get the idea. Please be mindful that I am not saying for you to do what I did. Your context is different than mine and your teaching landscape is not mine. My point is to encourage and invite you to be aware of your own wintertime mood and the wintertime mood of your students, then adjust, modify – meet your students where they are, as they are. In the wintertime, sometimes the gloominess is better survived with a change of pace, with a gesture of care and warmth, with an acknowledgement that we need to be with one another but in gentler ways.  If/when you can brighten the spirits of your students, your own spirit will be glad. Spring arrives on Tuesday, March 19, 2024, at 11:06 p.m. EDT. We teach in hope.

All storms are not the same. A light summer rain is not a category five hurricane. You must learn, in your context, to identify those storms that can be refreshing, and even enjoyable, and those storms that are life threatening and require you to batten down the hatches or evacuate. My Uncle Frank was a loving and unconventional man. He stood about 6’4” tall. He had a medium build. He was bald on the top of his head with a hair-ring around the sides. He wore a size 15 shoe and an extra-large hat. Uncle Frank was light-hearted and laughed often. He and my parents had grown up together in Cleveland, Tennessee. The Meridiths, the Bullocks, and the Westfields had known each other for many generations. By the time my brother and I were born, Uncle Frank and Aunt Emma, with their four children, lived in Philadelphia – near our family. My father treated Uncle Frank with the respect given an older brother. Our families were family to each other. Uncle Frank worked for a company that would buy out the local amusement park for its employees the Sunday of each Memorial Day weekend. Frank would accept the five tickets given each employee, then barter, negotiate, and acquire twenty or thirty more tickets so he could host a grand picnic for the extended family. My birthday is May 28; we would celebrate at the amusement park. Every year Uncle Frank would tell me the picnic was for my birthday. I loved Uncle Frank and Uncle Frank loved me. Uncle Frank would reserve a pavilion in the picnic section of the park just for his guests. The annual event felt like a family reunion. Upon arrival at the pavilion, each family would claim two or three picnic tables and set-up their spot. Each family brought food and beverages, more than enough to share.  The picnic was a grand feast with all-day rides, card playing (spades, bid whist, pinochle), lots of laughter, and being together. It was a day of excitement and fun. I have fond recollections of all my amusement park picnics, but there was one that was the most remarkable.  It was a sunny Sunday. Our family arrived at the park about 10am. We parked in the parking lot, then hauled our food and picnic supplies from the parking lot to the reserved pavilion. After greeting everyone, my brother, father, and I left my mom to set up our picnic tables. We went to ride the rides promising to return in two hours for lunch. We started with a ride on the Wild Mouse--the wooden roller coaster. Then the bumper cars, Ferris wheel and then the teacups. It happened when we were in line for a second ride on the roller coaster. Without warning--the wind whipped up with prolonged gusts. The sky darkened.  It began to drizzle. The drizzle turned to downpour. My dad told us we needed to go back to the pavilion. My brother complained because he wanted to ride, even if it was raining. Dad grabbed my hand, told my brother to move quickly and pointed in the direction of the pavilion. With a pout, my brother trotted ahead of us.  The downpour increased. As we jogged, it seemed as if everyone in the park was running - looking for shelter from the storm. It was pandemonium. By the time dad, brother and I got near to the pavilion the rain was teeming from the skies. The thick rain made it difficult to see. The winds were erratic. My mother was standing at the edge of the pavilion watching for us and, no doubt, praying. When Mom saw us at a distance, she began to call my father’s name and wave her arms. Dad picked me up, grabbed my brother by the hand and jetted to my mother. Everyone in the pavilion was packing up. My mom dried us off with an extra tablecloth and paper towels. As if out of nowhere, Uncle Frank ran into the pavilion and hollered, “Don’t leave!” Hearing Frank’s voice, people paused. Everything but the rain and the wind stopped to listen. Frank said, “Don’t go! The storm is not going to last long. Don’t go!” Several families ignored him – packed quickly and launched out into the mean weather headed back to the parking lot to drive home. Uncle Frank came over to my parents and repeated, “The storm will not last long. We are safer here than on the road.” My parents hesitated. They did not know what to do. Uncle Frank collapsed a card table, leaned it against a pavilion wall and instructed me and my brother to go under. We did. Frank covered the table with a tablecloth and made sure there were no exposed edges to be caught by the wind. Uncle Frank instructed us, “Stay there until we call you out!” The storm lasted another thirty or forty minutes. They were long and frightening minutes. Then, as abruptly as the storm had started--it stopped. With the stillness, my brother and I peeked out from behind the table. My father said, “Come on out, it’s over.” We crawled out and I looked around the pavilion. The only folks who had stayed were Uncle Frank, Aunt Emma, their four kids, our family, the Conway Family, and the Simmons Family. Anything uncovered in the pavilion was soggy or drenched, but no one was hurt. As if by magic, the thick black clouds continued to part, and the blue sky returned. The sun shone bright, again. The winds were gone. Together we cleaned up the pavilion and reestablished our picnic. Families had left covered dishes, coolers, and lawn chairs. Dad and Frank organized items they would return in coming days. My mom and Aunt Emma took inventory of the food and reset one large table of food and a beverage station for everyone. Mercifully, my birthday cake was unharmed. In about thirty minutes we heard the amusement park rides restarting. And here’s the best part--for the rest of the day there were no lines for any rides! Since most of the people in the park had fled during the storm, those of us who had braved the storm were now free to ride any ride without having to wait in line.  That day, I rode the roller coaster twenty-seven times! That day I rode every ride in West Point Park! That day was one of the best ever! Years later, I asked Uncle Frank how he knew we should stay at the pavilion during the storm. He said, “All storms aren’t the same. Even bad storms aren’t the same kind of bad. That storm came up so fast and unexpectedly, I knew it was going to move through just as quickly. I also knew driving in that kind of weather would have been more dangerous than hunkering down in that pavilion.” With a wry smile, Uncle Frank continued, “And, it was your birthday – we had not cut the cake!” Friends, storms in our careers are like this. Ask yourself, which storms are simply part of the ecology of faculty life, and which storms are potentially life threatening or cataclysmic? Negotiating the processes of hire, tenure, renewed contract and promotion is distinctly different from navigating in an institution that is restructuring or has filed for financial exigency. Learning to advise students, lead faculty committees, and find a suitable publisher can be challenging, but all are elements of the academic landscape.  How do you come to know what is usual and what is dangerous? We all need an Uncle Frank who can tell us if we should hunker down or run! Thank you, Uncle Frank.

Originally, this paper was presented at the Academic Labor and Contingent Faculty Committee and Academic Relations Committee panel of the American Academy of Religion, November 20, 2023, San Antonio. The theme of the panel was: Contingent Faculty, Just Labor, and the Ethics of Care. I. Paradigm Shifts New occasions teach new duties, Time makes ancient good uncouth, They must upward still and onward, Who would keep abreast of truth. James Russell Lowell wrote these words in the 1840s in a poem called “The Present Crisis, criticizing the United States’ war with Mexico.” In this extraordinary and timeless turn of phrase, Lowell reminds us that the world is always changing. In dramatic alignment with Lowell’s sentiment, humanity is only twenty-three years into the twenty-first century. We are a society who has only recently moved from an analogue mindset to a digital universe.  We are only barely acquainted with the rapid-paced technological age. The implications and ramifications of the digital age and the changes in life and lifestyle have just begun to unfold.  This might be especially true in higher education. Grappling in this new time and landscape has caused a wide variety of industries to undergo minor and major shifts in labor paradigms – either by plan or by reaction. Higher Education, as a societal industry, is no different. Higher education is traversing this new landscape.  The needed adaptations and changes have been a tremendous challenge that, at times, defeats us. The decision to shift the labor paradigm of faculty in higher education feels like it was done on an ad hoc basis. Even so, the decision is pervasive. This decision to shrink the pool of tenured and tenure-track faculty and increase the number of adjunct faculty has changed higher education – is changing higher education – will continue to change higher education. School administrators, often out of financial desperation, decided full-time contract faculty would be cheaper than tenured faculty. This strategy was undertaken without anticipating that, or planning for, the toxic environments which have been created. As a result of these decisions, many schools now operate with a permanent under-caste in the faculty. II.Wabash Center The mission of the Wabash Center is to support and strengthen teaching and the teaching life in theological and religious education. Our project has been in operation for 28 years and is solely funded by Lilly Endowment, Inc. Wabash Center, in serving entire faculties and individual scholars, has an unique vantage point for hearing the stories of faculty in religion and theology. Each summer Wabash Center gathers more than fifty faculty from approximately fifty schools. These gatherings allow me, and other faculty leaders, to hear first-hand the stories and the concerns of teaching and the teaching life. The shift from tenure-track and tenured faculty to the hire of full time adjunct-ing faculty has created in a great many schools a two-tier faculty. The adjunct-ing faculty are treated as “less than,” while the tenured faculty are deemed as being superior. The workplace environments are described as being toxic by the contingent faculty. III. Stories of Toxic Work Environments We hear stories of exploitation, incivility, bullying, intimidation, ostracization, and subjugation. Many contingent colleagues tell stories of being invisible-d, silenced, and relegated to the bottom or margins of the institution. Many contracted faculty are seen as expendable while also being over-worked and demoralized. Colleagues self-report feeling unwell, depressed, anxious, fatigued, and taken advantage of. We hear stories of long work hours, impossible workloads, unhealthy life-work balance, demeaning bosses and colleagues, climates that are super competitive, and normalized behaviors of disrespect and disregard. Colleagues report experiences of sabotage and feelings of being targeted. Many contracted colleagues have a sense of shame for not having a tenure-track or tenured job. Many have a sense of betrayal because, while they earned the requisite terminal degree, they are not treated with dignity, decency, or care as contract faculty. Many feel trapped in dead-end jobs. The stories tell that schools have started a kind of academic segregation in faculties. Academic ghettos have been created. We know that the politics of segregation, when institutionalized, is cruel, brutal, and inhumane. There is no such thing as “nice” dehumanization. While it might be typical to hear tenured faculty with similar criticisms, the clear difference is that tenure-track and tenured colleagues have health plans, retirement benefits, access to professional development opportunities, office supplies, and administrative support. Upward mobility is possible. There is, for some, an agreed upon career pathway in the institution. Most contingent faculty have few or none of these institutional benefits. I suspect, like the toxic environments in corporate workplaces, administrative colleagues, for the most part, are unaware of the severe environment of their own schools. I suspect they are also unaware, or naïve, concerning the legal ramifications for work environments where harassment, bullying, and dehumanization is the norm. An irony is that I suspect the shift in labor patterns has eroded teaching. Oppressed colleagues do not teach well or even adequately. The shift has resulted in a weakening of teaching and the teaching life. Education has been diminished. The problem is not the colleagues who are employed as contingency faculty. The problem is the way institutions are treating people – by that I mean – institutions are treating people without dignity and without respect.  All faculty, tenure or contract, are worthy of honor. A healthy workplace recognizes all employees as being valuable, worthwhile, useful, and meaningful to the organization and treats them as such. Too many schools are unhealthy and doing harm to faculty. IV. Given the Current Mammoth Challenge The shift in the labor force is not without cause. Schools are faced with low student enrollment and the forecast is that the available desirable pools of students will not return. This is compounded by the fact that most schools operate on a business model dependent upon tuition dollars and the related monies of having students on campus. These are critical dollars without which schools are doomed. Endowments require expertise in investment strategies in the roller coaster of the stock market. Some schools have been quite successful while other schools have been hit hard. Shrinking dollars results in withering schools. Initially, many schools made the reactionary decision to shift to contingency faculty to close a shortfall in the budget while thinking this decision would be temporary. This temporary measure has now expanded into a paradigm shift in the labor force of higher education and theological education. We are now living with the repercussions of a short-sighted fix for a very complex problem while we are in crisis. In this time of crisis, how do we navigate the seemingly unsolvable? V. Think Tank Needed Most scholars of religion and theology, in their brilliance, are not able to do organizational problem solving on a large scale. While they are experts in their academic fields, experts in their chosen research area – able to critique, able to deconstruct and analyze – they are not trained in paradigm shifts. Given our current crisis, we do not have the luxury of deconstruction without re-construction. We cannot discuss our crisis as a rhetorical exercise. Lives and livelihoods are at stake. We need minds who can problem solve, strategize, ideate, design, and develop sustainable systems to meet the current needs and available resources. Where are our think tanks? A think tank is an organization that gathers a group of interdisciplinary scholars to perform research around particular policies, issues, ideas, or problems.  Think tanks are charged with engaging problems from a multi-faceted approach considering social issues, public policy, economic trends, political strategy, culture, and technology. A think tank can be charged with advocacy, design, and education concerning the problems for which their research, dialogue and development is aimed. Some think tanks have laboratories for experimentation, internships, and apprenticeships. Given the magnitude of our challenges - where is the think tank for theological and religious education? Who is convening scholars beyond religion and theology for their expertise on our crisis? What needs to be turned over to the Think Tank? What is dignity and respect in the workplace for shifting faculties? What is the aim of education in the 21st century? What is the worth and value of formal study of religion and theology for? What sustainable business models might educational institutions pivot toward? What is the role and necessity of tenure? Why have tenure? What are the effects of diversifying faculties? What does it mean to convene a diverse faculty that is healthy for all and not just some? How can doctoral programs better prepare scholars to be administrators for nimble organizations? Or – what is the formation process for school administrators who will be prepared for crisis and problem solving? Other stuff, given the newness and complexity of our time, I have not thought about! VI. Conclusion The work of creating new paradigms, new business models, new models for teaching is confounding, but vitally necessary. I do not believe our future is collapsed nor foreclosed. I do not believe that our passions for education and teaching are pointless.  We must convene our best minds. What is the way forward? The truth is – we do not know, but together it is likely we can create what is needed.

My coach and I were discussing a difficult decision I needed to make for my newly acquired job. I confided the details of the situation to her, and she listened patiently. We discussed the dilemma and figured out some contingency strategies. As our conversation was winding down, she said the simple phrase, “Lynne, you got this.” I wanted to cry. I did not think I had it. I was inexperienced and struggling. But, when my coach told me I could navigate the difficult situation, I believed her, at least a little bit. Her belief in me brought me unexpected comfort and gladness. I needed someone to believe in me and say it out loud. When our students enter our classrooms, they bring who they are, along with their anxieties, uncertainties, fears, and so often, lack of confidence. The question is, while you are doing the difficult and increasingly complex job of teaching--who believes in you? My mother was my consummate cheerleader. My mother rooted for me all my life. When I attempted small things, she prayed, cheered, and supported. When I attempted enormous things like a doctorate degree or a new job, she prayed, cheered, and supported. In the years when I routinely traveled to do consultations or public speeches or to preach, my mother would ask me the time of my work so she could pray at those exact moments. I miss my mother’s undimmable support. She believed in me and her belief gave me confidence. We need people in our lives who understand that teaching, even when wildly rewarding, is challenging and this challenge cannot be accomplished alone. We need people who cheer us on. People who instill courage. People who help us to muster up our brave. Who believes in you and your work and supports you in your efforts? Find these people. Thank these people. If you do not have these people, get these people. Or, be that person for someone else. The Wabash Center requires letters of recommendation for workshop applications. In every batch of applications, we inevitably receive one or two letters of recommendation written by a dean or department chair for an applicant that is a meager one or two sentences of perfunctory prose. The letter is hurried, too brief for the needs and gravity of the application. Every time I read a flimsy letter of recommendation written by a too busy person, I feel sorry for the applying faculty colleague. If you are not going to write a thoughtful letter, perhaps be truthful and tell your colleagues that you cannot recommend them. Or, even better, take the time to write a decent letter of recommendation. These letters are moments to cheer on a colleague who is trying to better themselves and their teaching. Entertainers and athletes have the luxury of being cheered on by a crowd. Yes, they must live through, on occasion - jeers, sneers, boos—every now and then. However, much of their careers are spent being applauded. What if we gave our faculty a standing ovation or the equivalent? What would a round of applause for teachers be like in our schools? So many institutions single out one colleague and provide a “Teacher of the Year” award. Consider that, rather than fueling community, this individualizing gesture feeds contempt for one another. Teacher awards do not improve teaching. They do not communicate to faculties that they are appreciated.  They only pit colleagues one against the other. Design new ways to celebrate all who are struggling to survive, all who show up to each class, all who meet their students with lesson plans, expectations, and dreams. Expressing to one another that we believe in what we are doing and that we support teachers and teaching will require, for many schools, a culture shift. Last week a young colleague told me that she was scheduled to give an important presentation at her school and, understandably, she was nervous. I penciled a note on my calendar so I could remember the date. Today I noticed my note and called my colleague. She reported that her presentation went quite well. I told her that I was proud of her and her accomplishment. I told her to continue her hard work.  I told her I believed in her. I hope I instilled a bit of confidence. I hope she believed me when I said that I believed in her. I am going to tell colleagues in tangible ways that I believe in them. I am going to make a practice of penciling into my calendar, then following up with a phone call or email so colleagues know someone is rooting for them. Imagine the difference that could be made if we root for one another!

Like many colleagues, a great joy of teaching is mentoring students into employment. I was well mentored, and I hope I have done well by my students. Recently, I received a call from a former student who has been serving in the local church and now wants to turn their attention to joining a faculty. While enrolled in graduate school, I knew them as a creative, capable, and dynamic student. I was delighted when they wanted to talk about the prospects of joining a faculty. During our conversation, they asked all the right questions and was well-prepared, having studied the school to which they were going to send their application. I knew the school and I thought they would make a good fit with the faculty. But as we talked, I developed reservations. I realized that the school was in the middle of the country and in a rural section of the state. I asked my former student if they had considered what it would be like to live in such a different culture and be surrounded by such different political climate than the one they had known for the last ten years. With some hesitation, they said that they did not think the location of the school mattered if the position was a tenure track job in their field. Ugh!   There is more to a successful career than the right job. What of the quality of life afforded to you by the geographic location of the school? Yes, learning to flourish on a faculty requires attending to the professional aspects of scholarship.  Equally, or in some cases more importantly, flourishing also requires attending to the personal and familial aspects of life. Where you reside, where you call home, where you locate yourself and your family is critically important to your teaching and teaching life. Location matters. BIPOC colleagues have a particular challenge when trying to live in rural areas, in middle America, or in predominantly white spaces where the police and the neighbors assume you do not belong in those neighborhoods simply by profiling your raced and ethnic body. What do you do when the quality of life within commuting distance of the school is inadequate - inadequate for the needs of your family, or even dangerous? Racial ethnic colleagues struggle with: finding hair salons, barbershops, hair products, body care, medical care locating foods of their ethnic preference or religious need romantic options for socializing making friends from similar culture or backgrounds adequately prepared schools for children jobs for spouses religious temples and churches gyms and recreational spaces which feel welcoming holy day and holiday celebrations Yes--we can always drive an hour or more for these services and products. But the critical question is--what is the toll upon us and our families when our job location means that we must live in hostile towns, hostile neighborhoods, or in spaces that are not attuned to our cultural identities and needs? Issues of cultural compatibility, if not thought through, are potentially detrimental to a teaching career. Consider… Colleagues who are single or whose families have not relocated are especially vulnerable to feelings of isolation and loneliness. Trying to find community in spaces for which race and cultural identity are in the minority is especially challenging when living alone or apart from family and established relationships. Colleagues have reported that their children attend schools as “the one and only” of the student body. Children feel isolated, exoticized, bullied and alone. Colleagues have reported insufficient medical knowledge and medical care for ethnic specific ailments. Colleagues have reported being afraid when people in the grocery store or hardware store ask, “where are you from?” or “why are you here?” The clear message is that you do not belong here. The message is that the stranger in the community is deemed as being strange. Colleagues have reported being afraid to vote during elections for fear that they will be targeted for violence since their vote will not align with the popular vote in that town, county, or region. Colleagues have reported receiving support from school administrators when abused by a local police officer. We are glad for the support from the school, but what does it mean for this colleague to continue to live in a place of fear--where the police are known to violate civil liberties of Black and brown bodies?  In some cases, the locations are familiar enough, and navigable enough, to sustain a modicum of wellness as you work a job at the school. But living in years of being uncomfortable and feeling alone can take a toll. It has a price.    What is at stake if you live in environments that you experience as being harsh, unwelcoming, harmful, or isolating? I have heard of three kinds of approaches to engaging this complex problem of location: Plan for the place where you are uncomfortable to be only temporary; plan to remain in the location for only a short amount of time; plan for the next position where you are more comfortable and know that your discomfort is only for a limited amount of time. Develop a new imagination for culture; learn to accept the culture of the new location; find pockets of friends, allies. Learn the nuances of the town, neighborhood and adapt for the long haul. Commute – be in the space as little as possible through a hybrid schedule; commuting, digital workspace and flexibility might be a key to survivability. Negotiate at hire to work from home when home is a space of compatibility and safety. In all cases, home must be a sanctuary adequate to sustain your teaching and teaching life.  By the end of the conversation with my student, I had persuaded them that investigating the town and imagining how they would live there is as important as preparing for the job. I am supporting my student through the interview process. Should they be invited to join the faculty, they will be ready with a strategy of ways to make that place their home.

What is happening in the world is happening to each of us. On May 3, 2023, Dr. Vivek Murthy, United States Surgeon General, released an advisory calling attention to the public health crisis of loneliness, isolation, and lack of connection between people in our country. Disconnection fundamentally affects mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, and intellectual health. Even before the COVID-19 quarantine, approximately half of the U.S. adults reported experiencing measurable levels of loneliness and isolation. Since the quarantine, we can imagine the sharp increase in isolation and fear. We, students/faculty/administrators, are part of this affected demographic. Newspapers, in small towns and major cities, provided news that fed democracy and linked people overwhelmed by otherness and isolation. In the recent past, print, and digital news provided a “watchdog” service aimed at holding our civic institutions accountable. The newspaper industry has reported a period of immense disruption and financial distress leaving news deserts across the country. Public service journalism that spotlighted the major issues confronting communities has shrunk. This leaves residents without the information they need to discuss and to solve their problems.  Whether delivered over the internet, airwaves or in print, the lack of vitality in local news coverage exacerbates our feelings of isolation.   Our loneliness is further compounded by the dichotomized assumptions promoted through social media. People depend upon memes, soundbites, and social media threads for facts, storylines, and information on complicated issues. Students/faculty/administrators, like the public, are immersed in social media culture. The rhetoric of “us versus them” has saturated our thinking and has become a presumed framework of discourse. The barrage of loss, hatreds, separation, grief, and rhetoric of division is affecting us – all of us. We are living in an extended and deepening national moment of blaming, clinched fists, gritted teeth, and suspicion for people beyond our chosen tribes, beyond our chosen communities, beyond those people with whom we agree and have chosen political affinity. There is growing suspicion of difference. There is a feeling that “the other shoe is about to drop,” without knowing when or what the shoe will be.  Here is the strangeness. While the country becomes more polarized and less informed - our daily lives and routines are relatively unchanged. How can it be – business as usual? Our everydayness continues relatively unscathed. We shop in the same grocery store. Go to the same big box stores. Perform the activities of employment. Participate in the same schools, churches, and mosques. Use the same online streaming services. While we suffer from profound loneliness, our everydayness has not changed much. We are simultaneously uninterrupted and fractured.  Division and social upheaval are smoldering while we operate in the relative customary school year start. School has begun. Teachers/students/administrators are re-convening with the same rituals, rites, and routines as always. Syllabi have been distributed. Lessons have begun. Committee meetings are back in swing. At-a-glance, we look fine. Yet, fear and uncertainty are palpable. We must be aware that loneliness, fear, and isolation tend to manifest, not where it is easily seen in our daily activities, but in our interior spaces.  Our fears are performed in relationships. Our isolation becomes apparent when we are with one another. Our trouble, pain, and turmoil are witnessed when we are working together and with others. The start of school makes us vulnerable to seeing and being seen. We are, when we gather-back, reconstituting our relationships while we are knee deep in our loneliness. Our relationships expose our fears, isolation and mental unwellness. Conflicts will soon arise. My caution is that, given the effects of the wider political climate, the veneer of calm and routine will soon dissipate. Are your classrooms ready for conflict? The most vulnerable people are those who bring diversity and difference into the faculty/student body/administration. For those faculties and student bodies who have, recently or over a very long period, accepted the challenge of diversity – this is potentially a very troubled moment for teaching. Diversity (race, class, political, gender, nationality, creed) is precisely what is not tolerated in the growing USA climate and yet diversity is what is needed to move us away from isolation and toward conversation, toward peace, toward community. The lack of tangible conflict, or the absence of specific dispute, does not mean that institutional fissures are not forming along the lines of diversity. Unaltered routines, unexamined practices, and undiscerning leadership will miss the hushed emerging crisis in community. Do not wait until difference turns into intolerance, vindictiveness, expressions of hatred, and war to invite your school into meaningful conversations. There are no recipes, formulas, or roadmaps for this brittle moment. Your school must engage its own communities as they are unique in the world and as you live together in this uncharted malaise. Gladly, there are some big ideas to which we can attend to help us make sense of the places where you teach and learn. Now, during the beginning of the semester, find ways to collectively reflect upon these kinds of questions in anticipation of conflict: What are the consequences of difference? What are the effects of difference? What meaningful project can we work on together? What sustains us through conflict? What is a good conflict and how are disputes processed with fairness, justice, and for maturity of community? Consider facilitating these kinds of habits and practices in your school or in your classroom: acknowledge the diversity and celebrate it; make the community aware of the diversities which exist; demonstrate how diversity strengthens the mission of community; attend to creating cultures of respect and regard for difference; create conversation groups across diversity to listen to one another; construct institutional processes and protocols before there is conflict; create an ombuds position; message into the community that difference is a strength and not a weakness; design new rituals and rites that support and honor diversity; facilitate conversations on the nature of hatred and the detriment of animosity; create policies of zero tolerance for hate speech; work on practices of solidarity; make a communal project of peace, empathy, compassion and forgiveness; admire courage and bravery; award truth telling; create artwork and expressions which honor difference; complexify dichotomous thinking; find ways for people to work together against divisiveness, objectification, and authoritarian assumptions. When, not if, the ugly expressions of hatred and entitlement bubble up in your community – be ready. You will not have the luxury of feigning surprise. Conflicts, subtle or violent, will arise along identity fault lines and your institution must be ready so that those targeted by the dispute are not severely hurt, ostracized, or killed.

Inspiration is a red balloon. My clear recollection of a film transporting me to another space and time occurred in the 2nd grade. I was a student at the George Washington Carver Elementary School in North Philadelphia. Our class, taught by Mrs. Cain, watched the short film The Red Balloon. Sitting at my desk, my 2nd grade-self was given over to the story, swept-up to another time and space, transported from Philadelphia to a life in Paris. While watching the film, I felt all the emotions, heard all the sounds, saw all the sights, and tasted all the smells. It was as if I was inside the story. Or it was as if the story was inside of me. In the 34-minutes, my life expanded. A red balloon in-spirit-ed me. During the film, I became the helium filled red balloon – beautiful and vibrant. I, while in the story as the balloon, possessed feelings, agency, will and awareness. The boy – kind, gentle and caring – was able to play and communicate with me. Together, we forged a deep friendship. Here is the plot of the film as my 2nd grade-self experienced it and as I still vividly remember it ... The boy and I wandered about the streets of Paris enjoying one another’s company. As we played, we drew attention from people – young and old. Adults were delighted at the sight of a red balloon following closely behind a boy. Other children were envious of our blitheful love. I was welcomed into the boy’s family. One Sunday, the boy’s mother asked me to remain at home while the family went to church. In their absence, I was very lonely. I found my way out of the apartment window, down the street and to the church. I entered through the opened front door and sat with my family.  In glaring meanness, a church usher nabbed me and threw me out of the sanctuary and onto the curb. My boy, in defense of me, left the church to comfort me. Then together we wandered around the neighborhood. My boy decided to purchase a treat from the neighborhood bakery. I willingly waited just outside the shop. A gang of older boys who were envious snatched me and ran with me – pulling violently hard on my string. With great effort, the boy got me back from the older boys but then the gang chased us through the allies. They were angry. We were terrified. The mob finally caught up to us. The gang pinned the boy on the ground as they shot me down with sling shots and sharp rocks. Then one of the brutes stomped me with the heel of his boot. I was destroyed. Just as it seemed as if my life was over, and all hope and love was lost – the boy looked up from his tears and devastation. All the other balloons in Paris had come to him. In celebration, the community of balloons formed a bunch and took my beloved boy on a joyful ride over the city. Teaching to inspire students can seem too lofty a goal until we remember the stories, people, and events who inspire(d) us. Our classrooms do not have to be boring with stale, flat moments where we tell students about life as if life happens away from learning. Engage students – mind, body, and spirit. Our challenge is to create learning experiences which immerse students into the lessons of life and of curriculum.   Our task is to help students make meaning with the tools of imagination, inspiration, and encounter. We know from our own lives that encounters with the arts, in many mediums, can be transporting and transformative. Recall a time when a story (through film, theatre, dance, poetry, painting, etc.) profoundly shifted your understanding of the world or of your place in the world. Recall a time when an offering of creativity (photography, sculpture, TV comedy, garden design, architecture, etc.) took you out of yourself or took your breath away or deeply moved you.  What was the last beautiful thing that moved you to tears, that inspired you to wonder, awe, or love? What has made you laugh to tears? What would it take to design courses which invoke and evoke these kinds of experiences for students? How might your introductory course be redesigned so your students experience being on the inside of the story? Invite students into new stories – they will be inspired. Take them on new adventures – they will be motivated to learn. Send them to foreign lands – they will rise to the challenge of exploration and discovery. Let the possibility of their learning be your inspiration for more imaginative teaching. Thank you, Mrs. Cain.

A summer joy is hosting workshop groups on our campus. The visits allow me conversations with participants over breakfast, or chats while visiting the local ice cream shop. A significant concern for our early career colleagues has to do with agency--or the lack thereof. Colleagues will recount an incident then ask, what to do when pressed upon by senior colleagues or administrators? What to say when overtaxed by committee assignments? What to say upon hire? What to do when bullied by colleagues? What to do when confused or disoriented about institutional protocols? What to say when the culture of the institution is not clearly defined or when the interpretation of the faculty handbook is unclear? WHAT TO DO? WHAT TO SAY? When I hear their stories and feel their anxiety, I encourage them that they need to have agency in their particular situation. In so many of the conversations with colleagues the best response I can provide to their concern is that they need to develop, nurture, practice and understand agency. Formulaic or recipe-ed advice would be foolish or ill-conceived. Without being part of the context and without having a clear vantage of the situation, I do not know the better/best answer to their contextual question. I do know, that in many of these situations what is needed by the colleague is a gesture of professional agency. In the world of academia, we must have agency for ourselves and for our own intellectual projects. Some of the conversations have revealed that colleagues are mis-defining or mis-characterizing agency. Demonstrating professional agency is not: asserting unmerited or unjust privilege being demanding, aggressive, or mean-spirited a gesture showing a lack of humility a request to squander institutional resources a wheedling of anger a stepping beyond rank or role being uppity and not knowing your place a lack of cooperation a lack of participation an inability to get along an admission of not belonging an admission of frailty or lack a showing of ill-preparedness   Simply put, habits and practices of agency are about knowing what you want and what you need for your own flourishing and for the benefit of your institution, then working toward those needs and wants. Gestures of agency are meant to increase the likelihood of communal respect, dignity, and career success. Exercising agency is engaging the wherewithal to pursue purposeful action and pursue goals free from the threat of violence, retribution, or retaliation. Acts of agency begin in the hiring process, continue while forging relationships with colleagues, and work to create healthy patterns of communication. We all need the skills of agency. Complex organizations have opportunities and challenges for which the exercise of agency is required to make full use of the opportunities and navigate the challenges.  All colleges, universities, and seminaries have their own organizational maze of complexity. Learning to read the context, adapt and understand the context requires agency, savvy, and wherewithal to be confident.   It is too easy to give your agency away. Nothing good comes to the employee or the institution when employees give agency away. Schools who are grappling with issues, habits and practices of diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging sometimes faulter when non-white colleagues exercise agency for themselves or for their own intellectual projects. BIPOC colleagues, often newly hired faculty in predominantly white institutions, struggle with the fear of retribution. We learn not to exercise agency for fear of being thought ungrateful for the job or being thought unfit for scholarship. We develop a kind of “go-along to get-along” mentality. This collegial stifling is detrimental to the faculty, administration, and students, alike. Negotiation is key to exercising agency. Abilities of negotiation takes self-knowledge; demands a professional plan; requires clarity about the role and responsibility you want now and in the future. You must read your context to understand how the institution functions formally and informally. Learning to read your context is as important as learning to have agency. Yes – there are dangers in some contexts. There are stories of retaliation and punishment for speaking up and for advocating for yourself. If you are working in a climate that would retaliate against an early career colleague for asking for professional development or for requesting support for research--perhaps that is not the post for you. You have options. When I was a tenure-track scholar, I began to have casual conversations with a senior colleague about the unmet curricular needs of African American students. Together, he and I began to imagine a new project to strengthen the curriculum. Mid-way through our dreaming, I abruptly interrupted our conversation. I said to my colleague that this project could not happen because he and I had no access to funding. He smirked. He assured me that funding would not be an issue.  What I did not know at the time was that my colleague had, at a time, been one of the school’s deans. He knew the school had several under-tapped, restricted funds, designated for student support. In a few weeks, he and I presented the Dean with a written proposal and accompanying budget. To my surprise and delight, the Dean funded our idea – using funds from restricted accounts. Our project ran for many years. I am not saying that all schools have under-tapped funds for projects or that deans will fund internal proposals. I am suggesting that new and needed ideas, with the agency of collaborating colleagues, can create projects which will benefit the students and assist with career goals and aspirations.  Learning to exercise agency, negotiate, read the context, and have clarity about professional aspirations and plans takes time and intention. In this case – experience is the best teacher. It also takes assistance from trusted colleagues. Consider creating an outline or map that shows your planned road to tenure, promotion, or contract renewal. Include in your map or outline those activities, accomplishments, work products and items in your portfolio which are required for your advancement. Add a timeline to your map. Decide if there are points of negotiation that would benefit you or the institution. Reflect upon and strategize about ways of strengthening the many aspects of your work, then ask what kind of agency is needed to fulfill that plan. Consider showing a colleague your map and talk about what is possible, in your context, to reinforce your work efforts. There are likely opportunities for which you are uninformed. Negotiate for what is needed to fulfill your plan. Do not be deterred or dissuaded if some negotiations do not reap what you request. Keep negotiating for what you need to become the scholar/teacher you aspire to be.