You were pure yearning as PhD student. Of course! Pure desire! Pure faith! But you were allowed to be. That was expected of you.
And as part timers? Out in the world? With no scholarship? Sans the protective framework of an institution? With no place that was really ours?
The part time lecturer condition. The out-over-sixty-thousand-fathoms condition. Working a few hours a week here – and then there. A few hours here, and then there. At this uni, or that uni.
There might be work this term, or there might not be. There might be a few hours a week seminar teaching at this university, if none of their postgraduates wanted to do them. There might be a whole module – lectures and seminars – but they’d likely advertise for a proper post rather than entrusting it to us.
How to keep the desire? The yearning? How to clear time for reading? To write, despite everything? How to maintain the discipline? How to work on the articles were going to lift you out of this? That would wind up in some high ranked journal?
And sending your articles to high ranked journals, then middle ranked ones, then low ranked ones. And getting rejected by the high ranked ones, and middle ranked journals. And low ranked ones.
You, outside the gates. Outside the institutions. You, on your own. You, out there, with no one to count on. Overqualified for everything. Overspecialised. Over everything. Spoiled for anything else except academia.
You, outside. And still holding onto the desire. It was purifying, in its way. It mad you leaner, in its way. But you were simplified. You were streamlined. You were honed.
Reading in desperation. Reading – the last things you might ever read
Writing – trying to write. Sending things out. Applying for jobs. To speak at conferences. To publish in special themed issues of journals. On this theme. On that theme. Anything to enhance the CV …
The struggle of a whole life. Everything you were.
You don’t get to do what you want. To be what you want. Not ever girl gets to be a ballerina. Not every PhD student gets to become a lecturer. Put your dreams to bed. Do something else. There must be something you can do.
Become revolutionaries? Start some terror cell?
Work in Progress 