In my doctoral program, they encourage students to begin thinking about their dissertations now, in the second term. It is both exciting and terrifying, because I’m still trying to figure out how to put into words what I’d like to research. That’s ok, though—right now, the ideas are starting to piece together as I learn the terms that I’ll need to observe and measure my findings.

 

I picked up a book at the library today that I hope will solidify the foundation for my study. If this book explains what I have a hunch it will reveal, then my own hypotheses will be better grounded. If not, well … I don’t know what then. I guess I’ll brainstorm another idea.

 

What I hope to discover is whether mega-gifts (also called transformational gifts) by the Carnegie family to establish and endow numerous libraries across the country spurred the federal government into offering more funding for libraries. I wanted to use a well-known example from history that we can delve into and track along a timeline. In other words, I want to find out if national library associations, federal grants, etc. gained more oomph after the Carnegies invested private money into the effort.

 

Why is this important? I’m so glad you asked. 🙂

 

I believe this is important because if it turns out to be true that philanthropic gifts have a direct or indirect influence on federal priorities, then we can speculate the potential impact of mega-gifts in the future. Specifically, I’d like to try to forecast gifts from the wealthy individuals participating in The Giving Pledge. I believe that we can narrow down their affinities (based on their current giving and/or that of their private foundations) and predict (within the course of a few decades, depending on their lifespan) the impact on federal spending priorities.

 

For example, we know from their current funding practices that Bill and Melinda Gates are strong advocates of global health and poverty initiatives. If my Carnegie Influence Model (for lack of a better term) is accurate, then I believe that we will see an uptick in the amount of attention given to global health and poverty initiatives at the federal level in the future.

 

This idea of the Carnegie Influence Model is what I’m working on this semester. In future classes, I might be able to replicate the study based on mega-gifts in other areas. I’m excited to delve into it and see what I can find!

In my research methods class, we had to review data for a specific industry/sector (of our choosing) and determine whether a gender pay gap exists — and if so, how drastic it is. I received positive feedback from my prof (woot!), so I figured would share my findings here:

 

Using 2009-10 survey data collected by the American Association of University Professors (AAUP) and published in The Chronicle of Higher Education, I calculated the gender pay gap among professors at public colleges and universities in the State of Georgia (25 institutions).

 
The greatest differences occurred within the two lowest ranks: Instructor and Assistant Professor. Among these faculty members, women made $1,850-$2,400 less than men did in median annual salary. Associate Professors and Professors made $200-$500 less by the same calculations.

 
I also calculated the mean (average) salaries for each faculty category, which showed a similar trend. However, the gaps at the Associate Professor and Professor level were much larger ($1,798-$1,940, respectively). Granted, the mean may not account for outliers at either end of the spectrum—those making much more or much less than others.

 
GA faculty pay gap graph
One possible explanation for the discrepancies between genders could include differences in work experience, which was not tabulated in the AAUP survey. It would stand to reason that faculty with more years of experience would make more. However, the rank of Assistant Professor is often an entry-level, tenure-track faculty assignment, and I do find it disconcerting that the largest pay gap occurred at this rank. A difference of $2,400 per annum equates to a significant disparity over the course of a career.

I’ve always enjoyed math, but once I got to calculus, it quit being “fun” and became WORK. I had a great teacher, though, and he stretched me to learn it, anyway. (I promptly purged it, I am reluctant to admit … I couldn’t tell you the difference now between a sin and cosine curve!) Come to think of it, I did develop a brave (or dumb) streak in college and decided to take Economic Statistics as an elective – which nearly killed me and my stellar GPA, but I digress. Anyway, I still like math, and I especially enjoy watching the lightbulb-moments when my guys learn something new.

 

I read two articles recently that highlighted new [to me] ways of multiplying and dividing. I was so excited to share the tricks with my 11yo! We sat down after dinner tonight and tried out the techniques. It tickled me pink that he was eager to learn; he even tried a few problems on his own. We took turns with the calculator to verify our work and waited to press the equal sign until the other person came up with an answer, then we hooped and hollered and high-fived each other when we were right. 😉

 

The multiplication method includes a demo on YouTube and attributes the technique to the Japanese. (I don’t know if it is part of their standard curriculum or not; I admit that I haven’t taken the time to validate it one way or the other.) It relies on a grid and simple arithmetic, and although we had some difficulty with larger numbers, we grasped the basics and were able to do some 3-digit by 3-digit calculations.

 

The division method is called Partial Quotient Algorithm, and it’s fascinating! I wish I’d known about this technique when I was in middle and high school. We divided numbers as large as 4-digits by 2-digits!

 

I don’t often have reason to multiply and divide without the convenience of a calculator (like the one built-in to my phone), but if/when I do, I’ll be ready!

What is it with boys? Everything is competition. Yesterday at supper, the oldest was sharing tidbits that he had discovered in a science trivia book. (“What element was named after Albert Einstein?”)

 

No. 4 piped up, “I learned science at school today.” No. 5 countered, “Me too!”

 

No. 3 talked over the kindergarteners by affirming that he, too, knew science.

 

Not to be outdone, No. 2 chimed in: “Yeah, well, pi is 3.14159.”

 

Huh? I didn’t realize that my fourth grader even knew what pi was, much less able to rattle it off to five decimal places! I gave him a high-five and told him that he rocked. Then I reminded everyone that we needed to actually eat during dinner, at some point, so the science knowledge competition finally tapered off as they scarfed down their shrimp stir-fry.

 

Many of their conversations at dinner and in the car tend to turn into one-upping each other, which often disintegrates into arguments. I was glad that last night’s banter was friendly competition – and about science, to boot!

 

P.S. The answer is Einsteinium.

 

One of the ways I try to make sense of my graduate school studies is finding real-life applications to theories. I try to picture myself listening to the scholar, philosopher, etc. and either put myself in their shoes or imagine what their audience would be thinking. (I’ve found that this is a helpful tool in Bible study, too, but today I’m talking about school, in particular.)

I often picture other people who remind me of the scholar/author. For instance, my dear husband has a very Socratic way of answering questions with questions, which drives me batty, but it did give me a greater appreciation for Plato and his contemporaries.

This week, we’re reading about behavioralism and post-behavioralism, and I had a couple of “A-ha!” moments that I thought I’d share with you:

One has to do with metrics, which is a way to quantify job performance. In my field it could mean the number of grant proposals submitted each year, dollar amount raised and number of personal visits to donors. Metrics have their place in goal-setting, but I do not believe they should be the end-all-be-all to performance evaluation, because there are too many factors outside of our control. I can control (in a limited sense) the number of proposals I submit, but if my goal is to send out as many as possible (aka, the “shotgun approach”), it might not be as effective as sending out fewer, strategic requests (the “arrow approach”) that may have a better chance of getting funded. Metrics would be considered a behavioral tool, because it’s measurable.

The other lightbulb moment came when I realized why I like to make practical applications to theories. That’s a post-behavioral mindset! I don’t think I’ve ever labeled myself into a certain school of thought before, but from what I’ve read so far, post-behavioral seems to fit. This perspective wants to find the link between conducting practical research and putting the research to use. What does it mean, and what do we do with the information? Those are questions the post-behavioralist wants to know, and those are the very questions I think about while I’m reading.

It’s ok if you think I’m a dork; now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find some white tape for my glasses …

Text-to-video posts seem to be all the rage these days. I find most of them corny, but this one about seeking a doctorate in Political Science made me laugh aloud (literally, LOL). I could relate to the student with vague dreams but no concrete plan on how to achieve them.

When I tell people that I’m working on my DPA, the most frequently asked follow-up question is: “What do you want to do when you finish it?” I need a better elevator speech, because I’m not sure how to answer that in a simple phrase (or even a couple of sentences). What do I want to do when I grow up?

Hmmm …

I enjoy working in Development, but my upward mobility in the university setting is limited. It’s possible that I could work in another administrative capacity, provided that another division has as little succession planning in place as my division. What I think would be fun and challenging is to work in a center or institute within a university that focuses on policy research, etc. I also enjoy being in the classroom (Clarification: university setting, not a classroom of children), and I think I would enjoy being a faculty member.

Whatever the future holds, we’ll see what happens. I appreciated the tongue-in-cheek humor about the value of obtaining a terminal degree, and even when the future seems uncertain, I think it’s healthy to be able to laugh at yourself.

(continued from previous post)

Speaking of careers in academia, there is something else that has been weighing on my mind for some time now. I read an article last summer in The Chronicle of Higher Education concerning women in academia with more than two kids and whether or not such a family dynamic is detrimental to one’s career. That article was a downer, if ever I’ve read one.

I mentioned the article to a colleague last week, and in my brief recap, I said that women who have more than two kids and also have highly successful careers in academia are an anomaly. Without missing a beat, she replied, “So, be the anomaly.”

Be the anomaly.

How powerful is that?!

What might be overwhelming to you might be par for the course in my life. On the contrary, what might drive me bonkers might be right up your alley. Who’s to say that having more than two kids makes a woman less able to manage a successful career in academia (or anywhere else, for that matter)?

If I didn’t think I could handle serving on this-or-that committee, then I would politely decline. If I felt snowed under by deadlines, then I would delegate and ask for assistance. The point is, how can someone else say that I might not be as capable when they don’t even have a frame of reference for how to walk in my shoes? Maybe having more than two kids forces a person to be more organized and manage her time better than when she had so-called “free” time. Maybe having a large family is 24/7 on-the-job supervisory training … and conflict resolution … and risk management … and budgetary analysis.

I’m not Superwoman, and I don’t think that I clutter my life with unnecessary to-dos, but I do enjoy challenging myself and having projects to work on. Take the writing contests, for example. I attempted NaNoWriMo last November and am working on Script Frenzy right now. It’s a long shot to make the goal, but it’s been fun to try. I just enjoy the challenge, and it gives my brain something to do. I’m really ok with going along for the ride and seeing how far I can get. The deadline is self-imposed, so I’m not hurting anyone if I don’t finish; it’s a personal challenge. I guess you could say that it’s a nice change of pace from my work environment, because there’s no harm in missing the deadline. :p

So anyway, the fact is that I do have more than two kids, and I am on a good career track. I guess I’m already the anomaly, so why stop now? Let’s see where this train is heading, and maybe 10-15 years from now, it’ll be me at that podium encouraging younger women to break the mold and not let stereotypes define them.

I attended the Texas Women in Higher Education (TWHE) conference in Dallas recently and left feeling both encouraged and challenged by my career path. One thing I did realize is that the women who serve in upper-level executive positions at colleges and universities came to their positions from the faculty side of the house – not the staff side.

That was an interesting realization for a mid-level manager like me. I aspire to work in administration someday – perhaps Chief of Staff? – but must I jump ship once I finish my doctorate and teach first, in order to take on a position like that? Why is a faculty member more prepared to work as the Chief of Staff than – forgive me for stating the obvious – a staff member? Apparently, I still have much to learn about how universities operate.

At any rate, I have not ruled out teaching as part of my long-term goals. I’ve always enjoyed conducting workshops and giving presentations, and I have taught in a classroom setting before. I don’t think I have the patience to work in an elementary or secondary school setting, but I could see myself teaching at the college level and enjoying it.

I also enjoy what I do now, so who knows what the future holds?

(More thoughts on this topic in my next post …)