All right - I am stupid! I admit it. It was stupid to accept becoming an adjunct professor (now referred to as "contingent faculty") way back before my daughter was born. We were about to move to Providence, Rhode Island so that my husband could begin his gig in the Physics Department at Brown University. With incredible, wonderful luck, I phoned the Music and Art Department at Simmons College to ask about possible openings. Miraculously the chairperson, the amazing and inspiring feminist art historian Alicia Faxon, was available to chat. She suggested that I call one of her part-time faculty members for advice. This Canadian had just learned her visa would not come through in time for fall semester, and - voilà: I had an interview to teach the "History of Women Artists." (Teaching "Women as Art and Artist" at NYU came in handy for this opportunity - thank you, General Studies Program.) In September 1989, I become a full-time "part-timer": a freelance adjunct professor and art historian/critic for hire.
Two years after I started teaching at Simmons (and again teaching the "History of Women Artists"), I was pregnant with my daughter. Who could have prepared me for the enormous transformation from careerist to mother? No one. I hadn't a clue. Good fortune brought sage women artists into my life, like the highly accomplished Tayo Heuser. I was teaching, reviewing exhibitions for Art New England and co-directing the Bannister Gallery at Rhode Island College with the multi-talented Alexandra Broches (best known as the founder and former director of Hera Gallery, one of the first women artists coops). These exceptional women discussed the influence of motherhood on their work, the sense of "a death of the self" as they had been before children came along. I listened. I tried to imagine myself in their place. However, the authenticity of such feelings cannot be truly claimed before that precious wonder arrives: beautiful, helpless and fascinating. The greatest show on earth - from dawn to dusk and then some. I absolutely fell in love with my child and being her mother.
Fortunately, the mothering experience has served me well as my students became more and more needy and demanding. Mea culpa - I was part of the Millennials' parenting that delayed their maturation process. We just wanted to mother too long.
Being my daughter's mother became the center of my life - my compass and my priority. Teaching, research, writing and curating had to fit around this center. It wasn't an "either/or": I did "want it all" and tried to "have it all": a satisfying motherhood, spousehood and career. Unfortunately, "all" does not come in equal measure - some less, some more.
Do I regret my stupid choice? Naw, even though it is depressing to review the residual effects -
Yes, I earn very little money.
Yes, I write books that earn even less.
Yes, I have very little savings for my retirement.
Yes, I feel like "low-person" on the academic totem pole.
Yes, I commute hither and yon in wind, rain or snow (but I do like those "snow days" - amen to that).
- Attended Halloween Parades, Mother's Day breakfasts, Open Houses on Election Day and holiday card-making at my daughter's schools.
- Arranged my hours to get my child from school or home to after-school activities so that she was able to pursue ballet, horseback riding, reading clubs at the library and her bat mitzvah classes.
- Planned and hosted birthday parties, Halloween parties, and the like, with all the joy of creating invitations, cakes, and crafts with our guests.
Sure, the so-called "smart" person does not always make "smart" choices. For this mother, adjuncting was smart enough. Not brilliant, but practical.
On this occasion, I would like to thank my husband for his unwavering faith in my research projects and goals.
I would like to thank my parents for being proud of my work - even if they never read my books (they are boring, I know).
And I would like to thank my beautiful daughter, the light of her parents' life - and apologize for passing on the writer bug. Ack! It's a gift and a curse. May you find joy beyond the struggle to get the words right. May you find solace in knowing it's worth the pain and the aggravation.
And to all the adjunct professors who juggle courses, commuting, family and research projects: rise up to defend your dignity. We are not abject worms placed in feeder-fish positions to serve the tenured faculty. We are the clever ones, who prioritize in favor of the people we love, the students we serve, and the projects we believe in.
Hold your heads up high - and say: It is worth it!
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