Time Management in Academia – A Road Map for Research

How do academics organise their time? What experiments and techniques of time management are practiced in higher education? How are early-career academics socialised into time management routines? In this post, I outline an upcoming project to trace the personal and communal practices that academics use to organise their work. If you have any advice or opinions, please share them in the comments below.

The pace of life in academia has become a central concern of professionals in the sector. I have written and published a bit on work/life balance, managerialism, identity, values, and range of topics that are pervaded by discourses of accelerationism and the loss of autonomy over working conditions. Heather Menzies and Janice Newson’s paper ‘No Time to Think’ is typical of the sentiment. Intensifying and mobile work routines have been enabled by digital technologies and brought into demand through competitive pressures in the university bureaucracy and academic status hierarchies. For early-career researchers to mid-career course managers and lab coordinators, time pressure is the key phrase. Changing organisational structures are discussed in terms of conflicting temporalities.

Individualised, self-centred responses to time pressure is normatively assumed in much of the literature. This is not a surprising assumption, given that the very idea of ‘career-building’ in academia is now strongly associated with individual performance appraisals and growing rhizomes of data collection and fabrication software. The metric regimes that have come to regularly interface with academics though profile-based social media (Twitter, Academia.edu, ResearchGate) and identity-tracking platforms (ORCiD, ResearcherID, GoogleScholar) seem to eerily mimic institutional performance appraisals (tracking publications, grant money, teaching experience, role titles) and morph them into further figures (such as ResearchGate’s bizarre RG Score).

While the identity-focus of the audit culture in higher education seems to incentivise individualistic approaches to dealing with time-pressure, some very interesting practices have become socialised. Perhaps one of the most well-known recent developments has been the Shut up and Write (SUAW) communities that have emerged (see in particular The Thesis Whisperer’s post on this for a clear explanation). Groups all over the world are using social media and location-tracking software to schedule regular meetings for both academics and other creative and professional writers. SUAW, using the Pomodoro technique (in short, 25 mins of intensive writing, 5 min break, repeat), offers to assist with time management through time-compression; what might be written in a meandering, email-distracted way over a few hours might be punched out in a matter of minutes. SUAW is hence a technique for self-regulation through community.

Members of SUAW communities express appreciation not only for the technique and regulating presence of other writers, but also the sense of belonging that is created. SUAW groups can be spaces to have one’s efforts recognised and celebrated, as well as assist with the task of writing. It is interesting that this writing practice is possible in isolation (all you need is a timer and writing space) and yet groups gather in both physical and online spaces, routinely, to perform solitary acts together.

I aim over this year to explore what other methods and practices have been established to manage time in academia and in particular what techniques exist for socialising academics into time management practices. These could occur in the classroom (at undergraduate levels), in the office (for graduate students), in seminars, in online spaces cafes (as per the SUAW collectives), in tearooms or read from classic texts (such as the appendix to C. Wright Mill’s The Sociological Imagination, ‘On Intellectual Craftsmanship’).

If you have an interest in these practices, ideas or just want to chat about your methods, comment below, follow me on Twitter (@fabiancann) or email me at fabian.cannizzo@monash.edu.

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“Potential, Possible or Probable” Predatory Publishers List Pushed to the Archives

As a postgraduate researcher, you are often warned, repeatedly, to watch out from predatory journal publishers, offering to review and publish your labour of love (perhaps at a fee), and more often than not addressing you as “Dr.”, “Professor” or “Chairman” (yes, it happens). If you had then gone on to ask how to identify predatory publishers, a thoughtful colleague might have sent you to a source such as Jeffrey Beall’s List of (what he describes as) “potential, possible, or probable predatory scholarly open-access publishers” and journals (You’ll note that all of Beall’s pages are currently archived on web.archive.org). If you have never heard of Beall’s List or Jeffrey’s work, check out this short segment from a CBC clip on “Cleaning up bad science“.

Beall’s List – De-commissioned

The frequent qualifications that attend comments on Beall’s List (i.e. “potentially” or “allegedly” predatory publishers) should remind users of the list that Beall’s work does not sanitise scholars of the need to use their own judgement and do their research. For any journal or publisher included on the list, Beall has maintained an Appeals page where he and his advisory team have sought to address scholar’s concerns and review inclusions on their list. While attempting to assist scholars in guarding their own reputations, Beall’s List has attempted to improve academia’s meta-cognisance, making itself aware of the need to question the institutions on which its practitioners depend.

Unfortunately for these ideals, Beall’s List was discovered to have been taken down in mid-January, with most being left to speculate as to why. Both Beall’s Facebook and staff page at Auraria Library have also been deactivated/dismantled.

Retraction Watch (a rather self-explanatory name really) claims: “The decision to take down the site — and Beall’s faculty page at the Auraria Library, where he remains a tenured associate professor — was his own, the University of Colorado Denver tells [us].” Beall appears to have remained silent over why he has pursued this decision, although Retraction Watch notes that Beall has been threatened with lawsuits before, from a publisher on his list. If indeed some form of litigation has compelled Beall to act, then the scholarly enterprise may be all the worse for it. As Ivan Oransky and Adam Marcus have noted, Beall’s List wasn’t just a blacklist, but a “a catalog of remarkably bad behavior” – a glimpse between the value-spheres of academia and business and a reminder of where organised scholarship is far from perfect.

For many, this bad behaviour is not limited to publishers. On the blog Derivance, Luděk Brož, Tereza Stöckelová and Filip Vostal lament the loss of Beall’s List and recall its utility in raising the publishing history of Dr Wadim Strielkowski to controversial status. The trio comments that

Strielkowski, then a junior lecturer at the Faculty of Social Sciences, Charles University in Prague, first attracted the attention of colleagues in early 2015, when it was discovered that he had published 17 monographs and more than 60 journal articles in just three years. It is probably not surprising that a number of these texts were published in a rather unconventional way: Strielkowski’s monographs, with one exception, were in fact self-published and self-illustrated, even though each appeared to have been published by the Faculty of Social Sciences. A substantial amount of his articles were published in journals that could be described, following Beall’s terminology, as “potentially, possibly or probably predatory”.

Mark Carrigan notes that the case of Dr Strielkowski emphasises the agency of scholars in the transformation of scholarly norms:

The case is a fascinating one because it illustrates how metricised evaluation and predatory publishing cannot simply be regarded as imposed from outside, leaving academic victims with no choice but to adapt or be left behind. Strielkowski is an extreme example but his case illustrates how the opportunities these systems create for advancement are drawn upon and engaged with knowingly by scholars, in a way that is always implicitly (and sometimes explicitly) orientated to the others embedded within them.

The rise of predatory publishing is perhaps something of a misnomer because it implies a unilateral process of domination by publishers and journals. Certainly for more naive scholars seeking to find some source of security in our academic pursuits, journals engaging in (ostensible) flattery and promises of publication are predators. However, taking a more ecological (and systemic) view, both academics and publishing companies may indulge new sets of norms, centred around metric rankings and outputs rather than scholarly merit. A culture of publishing, focused on the value added via publication metrics is not predatory or “bloodsucking”, but rather parasitic: the host is the ideal of intellectual development and the parasite is the technocratic norm that reconstitutes the world in an abstract game. Both publishers and academics alike must choose to play at the expense of self-scrutiny.