Connelly Rachel - Professor mommy: finding work-family balance in academia

Rachel would like to thank her Bowdoin colleagues for making her job the best gig around, and her wonderful cohort of women economists who have been fellow travelers on this experimental journey. We thought we could do it, and we did. Thanks to Michael for totally believing that we could do this and being Da to our children. Finally, thanks to my mother for jumping in on so many occasions. I had the best role model one could want for the Mommy side of my life.

Kristen would like to thank all of her mentors, but especially Pedro Noguera, Irene Tinker, Caren Kaplan, Joan Scott, and Jennifer Scanlon for their support and guidance over the years. She would also like to thank her friends, family members, and wonderful colleagues at Bowdoin for providing backup when it was needed, and especially Scott for being such a supportive partner (and willing editor) and Rachel for her encouragement and advice. Finally, she would like to thank her daughter for her endless patience and understanding when Mommy is working.

Kristen and Rachel would like to thank Martin Connelly, Scott Sehon, Michael Connelly, and Emily Connelly, who read and commented on early drafts of the manuscript and gave us invaluable feedback. Special appreciation goes out to our editor Sarah Stanton at Rowman and Littlefield for encouraging us to write this book and giving us her thoughts and guidance along the way. Most importantly, we would like to thank all the professor/mothers who took time out of their busy days and responded to our surveys, sharing their personal experiences and strategies for success. Although we have changed their names, they know who they are, and we owe them a great debt of gratitude.

Rachel and Kristen

March 2011

Why We Decided to Write This Book and Who We Are Anyway

It was in the meeting with the dean and associate dean of academic affairs that Kristen started leaking. She sat mortified, listening to them explain the possible benefits package that she would get if she were lucky enough to be offered the tenure-track job. As the deans spoke about health and dental benefits and how much the college would contribute to her retirement account, she was silently becoming hysterical as the cotton pads in her bra quickly became saturated with milk. Kristen was just finishing up her PhD at Berkeley, and this was her first on-campus interview. She had delivered her baby by caesarean section less than a month earlier, and had been contacted for a telephone interview within a week of leaving the hospital.

Her mind clouded by lack of sleep and a necessary regimen of prescription painkillers, she asked the department to call her cell phone, and she answered their questions from her car because she was terrified that they would hear the cries of a newborn baby in the background. This was 2001, but Kristen had been warned that certain departments would look unfavorably on her status as a new mother, fearing that her family obligations would compromise her ability to publish high-quality scholarship and thereby weaken her chances of getting tenure. It was a logistical feat of Himalayan proportions to leave her little daughter and fly from California to Maine for a two-day interview, all the while pretending that she was just another childless graduate student.

The interviews started at 8:30 a.m. and followed one after another until 3:00 p.m. Lunch was shared with another group of faculty, and even when she found a moment to use the restroom there was never enough time to pump. Some faculty member was always waiting outside to take her to the next interview. Kristen had put the cotton bra pads in as a precaution, but she had never been away from her baby long enough for them to be necessary. And she had pumped for thirty minutes in the morning. She thought that would be sufficient.

Instead, the cotton pads soaked through within moments, and Kristen felt the milk stain spreading out under the sleeve of her brand-new interview suit. She pulled her arms in close to her body, hoping they would not see the ever-widening wet splotch. If they did notice, she hoped they might think it was perspiration and that she was merely nervous and sweating. When they asked her if she had any questions for them, she cheerfully smiled and said, Not at the moment, but I am sure I might have some later after I read through all of these materials. She grabbed the thick folder that they had prepared and abruptly stood up, extending her hand just enough to shake their hands before mumbling something about wanting to have some time to get ready for her job talk.

According to her preset interview schedule, she was supposed to have half an hour to prepare for her one-hour talk at 4:00. It was 3:36 when she left the deans office and was finally left alone. Rather than going through her slides or reviewing her main arguments, Kristen spent all twenty-four minutes frantically pumping her milk into a sink while trying to get the wet spot out of her jacket with a wall mounted hand dryer at the same time, praying that no one would walk in. Her little handheld pump needed to be squeezed constantly, and the dryer kept automatically turning off. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, one hand pressed against the large silver button of the dryer, one breast hanging out of her button-down shirt, body oddly contorted to maximize the direct airflow onto the milk stain, the other hand squeezing furiously as thick white streams splashed into the porcelain basin, swearing all sorts of obscenities under her breath and wishing that she had not come.

A wave of doubt overcame her. She felt a hot tear of frustration roll down her cheek. There is no way I can do this, she thought. How am I going to start a new job with a new baby? How am I ever going to finish my dissertation? When will I be able to spend time with my daughter? Maybe I should just stay in school for a few more years. Or maybe I should file the dissertation and take a few years off. Ill never get an academic job in California, and I dont know anyone here. Its just too hard.