In that first year, I applied to about fifty tenure-track jobs, out of which I received one telephone interview in a subject that was not squarely within the realm of my expertise. I was not surprised to learn that I did not get the job. At the same time, most of the other positions that I applied for seemed like they could have been a perfect fit for my background, skills and ambitions. Sadly, it was not to be.
The following year, I applied to about fifty more jobs and received zero replies. Meanwhile, a community college about forty-five minutes away from where I lived needed an English teacher and someone had apparently mentioned my name. That was enough to get me an interview, upon which I was offered a position as an adjunct instructor. I did that for two years, right up until the pandemic hit and my value to the school was laid bare.
Each semester, I taught 3-4 courses and worked an average of 10-12 hours per week tutoring students in the writing lab. I enjoyed it, and I felt that I was doing important work, despite the ridiculously low wages and shitty commute. Throughout grad school, I rode my bicycle to the university, but in order to drive out to this community college every other day, I had to purchase a car. The vehicle was about six thousand dollars, which means that that first semester of teaching essentially went entirely toward the vehicle that I had to buy in order to get me there. In situations like that, it's hard to feel like you're winning.
I made a little over $1,800 per course. Even though I was basically doing the workload of a full professor, I earned less than I might have made as a drive-through manager at a fast-food restaurant. I was making poverty wages to teach college, which totaled about $12,000 per year with no benefits. When the pandemic hit, I quickly proved to be expendable. Incidentally, I've read that roughly 70% of college courses in the US are taught by non-tenure-track faculty like me, which might make you wonder where all those tuition increases are going.
People don't often talk about this kind of thing, in part because it's embarassing. I am a former Fulbright Scholar with four college degrees, each more impressive than the one that preceded it. Furthermore, as noted earlier, I am a published author. However, the equally sad reality of academic publishing is that my book only earns me about $50 per year in royalties, give or take. That in mind, in an effort to help supplement my pathetic income and contribute to my own sense of self-worth, I am also constantly working on various other projects.
I have written over a dozen feature-length screenplays, some of which have garnered significant acclaim in prestigious festivals, but none of which have ever sold. Last year, I decided to shift gears and write a novel, which I now can't even get agents or publishers to read. I've sent out over fifty query letters for it so far. Over the past five years, I have also written, recorded and produced six albums of original music: sixty-five songs on which every single element came from me, including every word and every instrument. To date, I have made somewhere in the neighborhood of $90 from my music. Again, it's not exactly a living wage.
You might say that my poverty is the result of my own choices. I concede that I once made a decision to quit my job as a journeyman technician for the telephone company so that I could go to film school. That was over twenty years ago, and since that time, I have had only a few jobs that paid me that well. Of course, I tell myself that there are more important things than money, but it seems that some of the people who have been closest to me might disagree with that sentiment. In many ways, being poor has cost me immensely in my personal life.
I chose to pursue an extraordinary existence, not out of arrogance or narcissism, but with a simple desire to put to use the talents with which I am uniquely blessed and which I have worked very hard to develop. I believe that to not do so would be a complete waste, even though these skills have yet to prove valuable in any kind of financial sense. Still, I don't know anyone else who has a doctorate, a book published by the same press who put out the work of Einstein and Jung, among others, and a portfolio of creative and analytical work comprising over two thousand pages of material, as well as over four and a half hours of original, self-produced music. I also cook quite well and even perform stand-up comedy from time to time. None of these things, however, are apparently marketable skills, at least not where I live. That said, I keep looking for opportunities to reside elsewhere, but a legitimate reason to move has yet to present itself.
The reality is that for every academic job for which I apply, there are likely two to three hundred other people applying for that same position, and at least one of those people probably knows somebody. For every query letter that I send out for my screenplays and my novel, mine is just one in an enormous stack, some of which no doubt have the advantage of industry referrals. As for me, I'm a nobody. Even so, I'm probably the hardest working nobody I know. With steadfast tenacity, I do what I do because it is who I am, and I like to believe that at some point or another, what I do will hold value to others.
With that in mind, if you happen to like what I'm doing, whether here or on any of my other blogs, then I encourage you to please share my work with others. I may not earn anything from it, but I still believe that there are more important things in this world than money.
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