Although it has not been sudden, I have been caught off-guard by our building (re)arrangements. Though some process I cannot fathom, the funding was obtained to remodel the older half of the Ed School building. Through an odd chain of events for which I admittedly am somewhat culpable, I am vacating my office. And like many others, including some untenured faculty, there is no substitute space for us. We are told to work from home and the only support has been that they have supplied boxes to us for the purpose.
When it was my option to not go in to campus, it seemed well within my rights to work elsewhere. As long as I fulfilled my service and teaching assignments, I wanted to have control over when I had to be in my office. But I'm a little distraught that they have in effect granted my wish: work from home and only come to campus to teach classes. On one level this changes nothing since I am often in contact with students via email as much as through face-to-face appointments. And yet that it is so easy for administration to announce that there is no physical space to call home at the workplace makes me feel untethered. The nomadic life sounds so romantic until it is forced upon me. Nobody who "knows" me via email, chats, phone calls and conferences will be any wiser. It's not that I'm going to miss any of my comrades -- because we could easily rendezvous with the smallest amount of planning. However, it feels "off."
Perhaps it's just the uncomfortable transition I'm feeling at the end of an especially good semester. Folks are moving on to new jobs and adventures. I stand at the dock, waving my hankie and give my best wishes. I recognize it's a golden opportunity and I have to find the discipline to finish some texts and initiate some big and funded projects. But as I sit in my campus office one last time and prepare to fetch the Element to cart the final load of boxes to my basement, it seems as if my footing is unreliable, my head is a little vertiginous, and my social network is fraying and flimsy.
When it was my option to not go in to campus, it seemed well within my rights to work elsewhere. As long as I fulfilled my service and teaching assignments, I wanted to have control over when I had to be in my office. But I'm a little distraught that they have in effect granted my wish: work from home and only come to campus to teach classes. On one level this changes nothing since I am often in contact with students via email as much as through face-to-face appointments. And yet that it is so easy for administration to announce that there is no physical space to call home at the workplace makes me feel untethered. The nomadic life sounds so romantic until it is forced upon me. Nobody who "knows" me via email, chats, phone calls and conferences will be any wiser. It's not that I'm going to miss any of my comrades -- because we could easily rendezvous with the smallest amount of planning. However, it feels "off."
Perhaps it's just the uncomfortable transition I'm feeling at the end of an especially good semester. Folks are moving on to new jobs and adventures. I stand at the dock, waving my hankie and give my best wishes. I recognize it's a golden opportunity and I have to find the discipline to finish some texts and initiate some big and funded projects. But as I sit in my campus office one last time and prepare to fetch the Element to cart the final load of boxes to my basement, it seems as if my footing is unreliable, my head is a little vertiginous, and my social network is fraying and flimsy.
1 comment:
An interesting comment on sense of place... I was actually shocked to get your voice mail today saying that you have no office. This is really strange, John... if I can say so...
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