Change of plans

You know in the Miss America pageant when they get down to the two finalists and it's time to announce the runner up, there is that awful tense moment when those two girls are just standing there and the mc is reading the whole thing about the responsibilities of the runner-up. "should Miss America in anyway be unable to fulfill her duties, then the runner up gets the crown, etc", then they announce the runner up, and she is neatly shuffled away for the crowning of the girl they didn't announce. I always felt bad for the girl, there you are, in the spotlight almost to your dream, and they call out your name because you are the loser. That you get the crown if she screws up is hardly a consolation. (particularly since it almost never happens). Anyways, in academics, the tenure track job is like that crown. It is what we work towards, but all of our energy towards, and being runner up is a small consolation.*

Not getting a tenure track position, but being good enough to interview for more than one is like standing in that circle. You are good enough to make the team, but not good enough to get off the bench (wow I'm just full of metaphors today). In any case it sucks, and it can make one feel a little lost. But, occasionally, for whatever reason, the superstars and the coaches can't agree and they call up those sitting on the bench.

I had the pleasure of receiving that phone call earlier this week: I have been offered a tenure track position! The negotiations of the first choice candidate did not meet success. I don't know why, maybe they took another job, maybe they couldn't convince their spouse to move to a new location, maybe they didn't think the salary was enough, there are lots of reasons, none of which reflect on the job, or relate to my situation, so I'm taking it. No hard feelings about being second. Turns out my time on the bench was really short compared to most so I can't complain too loudly, and getting called up, no matter what order you were in to start with (because the order is somewhat arbitrarily assigned anyways), is a really great feeling. A really really great feeling.

Until the realization that you actually have to play with the big boys, and oh yea move halfway across the country sets in, then it's terrifying.

*I once had a roommate who was a pageant queen, trust me on this, they work hard to look that good on TV.