Login
An egg farm in Arizona making money off incarcerated women. An excerpt of David Grann’s new book about a disastrous 18th-century British naval expedition. A look into why people ski. And two reads on AI, a topic that none of us can currently escape.
Elizabeth Whitman | Cosmopolitan | February 15, 2023 | 3,897 words
Even during the earliest days of the COVID-19 pandemic, it was clear that, as so often happens in America, the toll of the historic event would prove heaviest for the most vulnerable among us, including the elderly, disabled individuals, and essential workers. And the incarcerated. The virus tore through the country’s overcrowded prisons and cut their populations off from the outside world more than they were to begin with. Arizona decided to take these horrors a step further by agreeing to set up a prison labor camp — yes, you read that right — at Hickman’s Family Farms, a large egg producer. Hickman’s had long paid for incarcerated individuals to work in its facilities; the workers only got paid after the state took a huge chunk out of their wages. “This is groundbreaking,” a driver told a female prisoner as he transferred her to the camp, the first of its kind in Arizona and possibly the country, where she would live and work alongside other incarcerated women while COVID exploded. “You guys are gonna be a part of history.” Apparently, history included illness, injury, and indignity, as this investigation by Elizabeth Whitman shows — the women whose voices the story elevates were told they were necessary, and treated as if they were disposable. —SD
David Grann | The New Yorker | February 28, 2023 | 6,800 words
“The only impartial witness was the sun.” So much depends on these seven short words, and they do such a terrific job foreshadowing the mayhem to come. (I’m a sucker for survival/adventure stories. Alfred Lansing’s Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage, published in 1959, was among my favorite books last year.) David Grann recounts the backstory of the Wager, a British man-o-war with a crew of over 250 that left Portsmouth, England, in 1740 as part of a squadron. Their mission: to find and loot a Spanish galleon, whose treasure was “known as ‘the prize of all the oceans.’” By the time a ship — in tatters — limps into an inlet off the southeastern coast of Brazil, only 30 men remain, “their bodies wasted almost to the bone. Their clothes had largely disintegrated. Their faces were enveloped in hair, tangled and salted like seaweed.” So, what the hell went wrong? Allow an excerpt of the prologue and first chapter of Grann’s forthcoming book, The Wager: A Tale of Shipwreck, Mutiny and Murder, to whet your appetite for this story of disaster and intrigue on the high seas. —KS
Jack Stilgoe | Aeon | February 28, 2023 | 5,576 words
With all the manic profiteering surrounding recent AI advances in art and writing, it’s hard not to think that someone’s cooking up a plan to make musicians obsolete. As technologist Jack Stilgoe points out, though, drumming has long resisted the creep of automation. That’s not to say we’re still pummeling calfskin with nothing but our own two hands: From the bass pedal to the Roland TR-808, we’ve sought to augment or even replace the rhythmic spine of popular music. But in genre after genre, from jazz to funk to samba, “swing” and its infinite interpretations reign supreme — and mechanization has yet to emulate soul. Stilgoe takes us through an engaging cultural history, punctuating his argument with clips of seminal moments from Clyde Stubblefield, Donna Summer, and others; it’s a paean to percussion that only a self-described “part-time mediocre drummer” could pull off. Yes, bedroom producers have all the (simulated) instruments of the world at their fingertips. And yes, in the near future we’ll probably see some horribly named AI startup that promises an improvisational predictive model that can out-Dilla Dilla. Whether any of that can move you — or make you move — remains another question. —PR
Gloria Liu | Outside | February 27, 2023 | 3,851 words
Last Sunday, I went skiing — by which I mean I largely stood in lift lines. Having forgotten my headphones, I was at the mercy of the conversations around me for entertainment. It ranged from people complaining about the traffic getting to the mountain to others ostentatiously using walkie-talkies — perhaps forgetting they were not in the military — to convey to those further afield that they were, in fact, still queuing. This piece from Gloria Liu about why people struggle through crowds for hours to pay exorbitant amounts for this limb-risking activity was, therefore, immediate catnip for me. As I devoured it, I chuckled at the characters conjured up by her vibrant prose, particularly the awkward Pit Viper-wearing couple on their first Tinder date. It’s a fun concept: Sit on a chairlift all day and see who you meet. There are no profound revelations here (besides that Jim Bob stashed some White Claws at the top of the lift), but each group is reveling in the time spent outdoors with their friends or family; the crippling amount of time and money spent worth it for these precious endorphins. When I eventually met up with friends and skied some runs, it felt worth it, too. —CW
Tony Rehagen | Experience Magazine | February 15, 2023 | 1,267 words
Is AI fatigue a thing? Because I’ve felt it for some time. Yes, there are noteworthy AI stories worth reading right now, like Ted Chiang on blurry JPEGs or the piece on drumming that Peter recommends above. But there are only so many stories about ChatGPT and artificial intelligence that I can absorb, so I’ve started to tune out. But when I came upon this story’s headline earlier this week, I couldn’t help but laugh — and decided to dive in and just surrender to it all: A data-driven IPA brewed in Australia, fine-tuned using consumer feedback collected through QR codes on cans. Genetically modified hops in the drought-plagued U.S. Pacific Northwest. An AI company ridiculously (perfectly?) called Deep Liquid. In this ultimately fun and timely read, Tony Rehagen reports on the trend of craft breweries harnessing technology, data, and research to refine their recipes. Let’s raise a glass to hops and bots. —CLR
Enjoyed these recommendations? Browse all of our editors’ picks, or sign up for our weekly newsletter if you haven’t already:
Kickstart your weekend by getting the week’s best reads, hand-picked and introduced by Longreads editors, delivered to your inbox every Friday morning.
A beautiful, moving, tale about a couple who enabled their son — born with a genetic disorder — to experience as much as he could in the short time that he was given. This will make you want to go outside and truly appreciate it.
Around his first birthday, we learned that Leo loved to be outside. When we took him to the boardwalk along the Saint Croix River and to local state parks, his eyes lit up and the laughter flowed. Time in nature seemed to energize him. That quickly became an evening and weekend routine: family walks, with Leo loving all the sunlight and fresh air he could get.
In 1976, Nanda Devi Unsoeld, the daughter of legendary mountaineer Willi Unsoeld, died on the mountain for which she was named. This is the story of Devi’s life and of the historic climb that killed her. A riveting adventure read, it doesn’t shy away from highlighting the history of misogyny, cultural appropriation, and selfishness in mountaineering culture:
In late September of 1975, at the Unsoeld home in Olympia, Willi met with 26-year-old John Roskelley, another very accomplished American alpinist, putting plans in motion. They were of different minds about leadership and climbing, and women, too—namely, whether they belonged on major expeditions with men. Roskelley tried to convince Willi not to invite a female climber named Marty Hoey to join the group. He believed that the presence of women could complicate things; he worried that emotions could get out of hand when the two sexes were put together in high-stakes, high-altitude situations.
It didn’t help that Hoey had been dating Peter Lev, another veteran of the Dhaulagiri expedition who they wanted on the team; Roskelley hated the idea of a couple’s quarrels bleeding into the team’s daily demands. He also assumed the climb would be a traditional, equipment-heavy effort, relying on multiple camps and fixed ropes, while Willi and Lev seemed intent on an alpine-style ascent, lighter on ropes and happening fast.
As they wrangled over the climb’s fundamentals, Devi herself burst in, glowing with sweat. She’d just biked seven miles home from a soccer game. Roskelley would later recall his first impression in his 1987 book, Nanda Devi: The Tragic Expedition, saying that Devi “swept in like a small tornado after an obviously brutal game of soccer.”
In public speaking engagements for the next few years, Willi would sometimes describe this moment, too, including an extra detail about some of the first words out of Devi’s mouth that evening: “You’re Roskelley,” she said. “I understand you have trouble with women.”
Ian Dille unravels the story behind a shocking crime with meticulous care. His detailed reporting sheds a light on the close-knit biking world and human relationships at the root of this case, without sensationalism. It’s a gripping read.
It’s easy to buy a weapon in Texas. So one day around the beginning of 2022, Strickland and Armstrong rode their bikes to McBride’s, a family owned gun shop near the University of Texas. Armstrong picked out a 9mm SIG Sauer P365 pistol and held it up to get a feel for its weight.
Transitioning into the academic job market was sobering. My tenures as an undergraduate and graduate student were much shorter than those of others. However, they still left me semi-poor and rejected from several “perfect” positions. The home in which I was raised, 20+ years as an age group, college, and post-collegiate athlete, and early grant and publishing successes had conferred determination, resilience, and disinterest in others’ opinions. Nevertheless, I uncharacteristically sought counsel from my then-girlfriend (now wife), my advisor, and several others.
The “quit lit” is replete with encouragement for academics considering resignation. However, few authors disclose the strategies that they used to exit academia. Here, I share some of the useful advice and wisdom that I gained as I was entering academia, and how I applied it when I decided to leave two decades later.
Put Yourself Out There
What “They” Said: Both when I was entering academia and when I was ready to exit, my wife’s mantra was: “You don’t know where your ‘dream job’ may come from; put yourself out there.”
What I Did: When seeking academic positions, I would scour The Chronicle of Higher Education, review job boards, and contact colleagues. However, putting myself “out there” for non-academic positions necessitated different strategies.
For starters, I learned that industry employers frequently identify candidates on LinkedIn (in fact, all of my opportunities outside of academia have resulted from relationships made through LinkedIn). Accordingly, I created a LinkedIn profile that curated the training and experiences that were most relevant to my aspirational positions. I also identified mentors on LinkedIn who held similar positions to the ones in which I was interested, and met virtually with several of them. Finally, I posted (or re-posted) anecdotes, accomplishments, or news items related to my aspirational position to my LinkedIn profile. This can increase your profile’s “hits” and followers, and demonstrates investment in your targeted area.
Unlike positions in the professoriate, companies in the private sector frequently employ recruiting firms to identify and provide preliminary reviews of candidates. Recruiters are frequently your best advocate; they offer suggestions for refining your resume, insights on the “match” between your skills and particular positions or position types, and often negotiate your salary in the latter stages of the interview process. As such, I keep recruiters on my virtual Rolodex. In fact, I reached out to recruiters with whom I had worked – and that are used by my aspirational companies – even when an appropriate position wasn’t listed.
You Can Grow Out of a Career
There’s nothing wrong with remaining in one position and/or field for an entire career. But let’s also recognize that priorities often evolve as new life seasons emerge.
Periodically assess the alignment between the activities required for your current position, your values, and your interests. Make a table (as I did) detailing the time commitments, tasks, products (a publication? A syllabus?), meetings, service requirements, and even travel requirements associated with your current position. When you examine the list, does it make your stomach turn? Or are there numerous “exciting” items on the list? Most importantly, are there other positions that incorporate the activities that you value most?
My list identified the tasks that I enjoyed and those that I disliked. However, it also illustrated the time that I’d been investing in them, and how time spent on these responsibilities surpassed the importance that I now placed on most of them. When I finally resigned my academic position, a colleague remarked that my resignation was “just a mid-life crisis.” In reality, my priorities, my interest (read: tolerance) in certain activities – and the amount of time that I was willing to invest in them – had changed from when I embarked on my career in my twenties. The real mid-life crisis would have been to remain in a career that was unremarkable, occasionally-undignified, and poorly-aligned with who I had become.
As I percolated about the mismatch between my “grown up” priorities and my current position, I began reconsidering my career trajectory, and to…
…Consider Accumulating Transferable Skills
What “They” Said: I was fortunate; my surgeon-stepfather was immensely supportive of my liberal arts bachelor’s degree. However, he also emphasized the importance of “transferable skills.” He’d gently remind me, “Now, study something you like; but also get skills that are transferable to the real world.”
What I Did: My inclination to run far, far away from my academic position had emerged at least six years before my actual resignation. Likewise, my actual “exit strategy” from academia leaned on a progressive acquisition of transferable skills that would make me marketable outside of academia. For instance, some positions that I’d investigated required basic competencies in website development. Therefore, I took coursework in website development, basic coding, and basic graphic design. In addition to some of these courses being free, knowledge gained from them was applicable to my university position (eg, by building a website for my research laboratory). More importantly, I added these skills to my resume and highlighted them when I applied for outside positions. I also envisioned that a personal website could act as a de facto “online portfolio” when I applied for outside positions.
Separately, my stepfather had emphasized the importance of “learning a trade.” This is because skilled trades (eg, plumbing; website development; nursing) confer specific competencies that increase likelihood of employment security, and/or can provide an additional income source. In my case, I enrolled in a weekend-based graduate program to become a licensed occupational therapist. This choice was a natural extension of my research, which focused on restoration of arm movement in stroke survivors. However, even if stroke rehabilitation was not my area of research interest, healthcare workers are always needed.
I should also note that it doesn’t matter when you embark on your new journey. Despite not knowing the specific healthcare field that I would enter, I began taking prerequisite courses for a healthcare career at community colleges when I was a new Assistant Professor. And nowadays, one can often enroll in virtual prerequisites – and even substantial portions of “trade programs” – without matriculation to a campus.
What courses, certifications, or trade programs could you explore that would be complementary to your current profession, while also fulfilling your career interests? Concurrently, which steps will place you on a path towards that new vocation, even if you aren’t entirely certain what that profession will be?
One Person’s Treasure is Another’s Trash
By 2017, I had attained a full Professor position at a R1, and my team was the most productive and awarded in the field. Moreover, the approaches that my team had developed were being used internationally. Yet, I was working 70+ hours per week, causing me to increasingly miss important family events. And let’s not forget the travel, the constant grant writing (I had supported my salary through grants for my entire career, and my contract stipulated that I continue to do so), and the constant demands of teaching and mentoring.
When I understandably resigned from these circumstances, our research director called my resignation a “waste,” citing my successes, and insisting that my tenured position was a “treasure.” Another colleague stated that she “couldn’t believe” that I had left this “cherished opportunity.” Upon hearing these comments, my wife rolled her eyes, stating, “one person’s treasure is another’s trash.”
My academic position was not trash. That said, standing next to posters with hands clasped, and designations that no one outside of my small field even recognized are now firmly in the rearview mirror. I recall – but cannot relate to – the value that I placed on these once-treasured activities and honors.
Be assured that you’ll be astonished how quickly your former career?—?and the acerbic words of others?—?fade into the ether. Have enough perspective to realize that your colleagues who are still “in the trenches” simply hold different interests and values at this time. Be the bigger person while also recognizing that you neither have to explain nor defend your choices. When you or others doubt your transition choice, reflect on the decision points and relative advantages that informed your move.
Fear Is An Obstacle to Change
With COVID’s emergence, my crazy workload eased and became virtual. Student meetings and data collection stalled. Yet, the specter of eventually returning to in-person frustrations and long hours loomed. Recalling the multitudes of wise words from my wife, I resigned in early 2020.
I now realize that I wouldn’t have had the gumption to resign had COVID not occurred. “F.O.M.O.” (Fear of Missing Out) delayed my resignation. “What about that conference that I attended (and chaired) annually?” “The textbook that I’d agreed to write?” “Who’s going to carry forward that class that I’d developed and nurtured?”
It’s natural to experience fear – and even loss – for activities in which you’ve invested so much. I offset these feelings by contemplating the exciting tasks in which I would be engaging in my new position and in my new life. Once in a while I also reminded myself of those activities in my academic life that I was glad to discard, and all that I’d gained by leaving those “important” tasks behind. With my eyes and heart planted firmly on the future, “important” tasks from my past evaporated, and my F.O.M.O. vanished.
******************************************
While I’d resigned from positions in the past, my exit from academia constituted my “great resignation” and, moreso, my “great renewal.” I’ve embraced a new career in medical communications, and I treat patients using that occupational therapy degree for which I worked so hard. Meanwhile, my personal life is decorated by family, writing, and rediscovered hobbies, including semi-professional musical performance.
Embarking on a new or altered career path requires time to optimize your resume and socials, and to assure that your skills align with your aspirational position. But, most of all, such a transition requires incredible gumption. Therefore, in addition to strategies that I’ve suggested, consider establishing a support system (in person or virtual) and a mentor(s). Both will provide objective feedback and keep you on your path. I am grateful for the support and experiences provided by colleagues, and, more recently, by sites like The Professor Is Out. These resources kept me future-focused and reaffirmed my transition out of academia.
The post Trash, Treasures, and Growth: How I Attained My Great Renewal – #TPIO Guest Post appeared first on The Professor Is In.
On January 1, around 1,000 people living in an upscale community outside of Scottsdale, Arizona suddenly found their water source cut off — and they've been dealing with a water crisis ever since in what's been described by water experts as an "unusually dire" situation, according to The New York Times. — Read the rest
FreshRSS 