
When Charlotte was one week old, I found out that the office in which I work did not have the funding to keep me after my second year in AmeriCorps VISTA. This after it was nearly guaranteed that, if I did a second year of 40-50 hours a week of work for $11,000 a year, I could have “any job” I wanted, even the one my immediate boss (a high-ranking university administrator no less) designed for me, working in faculty development and community engagement. You know, actually using my fancy degrees and experience and talents.
So. A week after becoming a father, I found out that four months later I would be cut loose. Stressed. Angry. Hurt. Scared.
Mrs. P. suggested that I just not go back to work after that, until Charlotte goes to school. Such a suggestion shook us both up. But we decided to go for it. It never would have occurred to me.
I spent the summer coming to terms with the fact that I had a PhD and would not be working for a few years, that I had more-or-less wasted two years of my life (at least one) on an institution that, well, didn’t give a shit. I am not going to claim that I worked very hard this summer or that I didn’t take an extra day or two of paternity leave. I felt like they owed me. Plus, working more than 40 hours a week was pretty regular, especially during my first year as a VISTA.
Then, a week or two before the date that my contract with AmeriCorps VISTA was up, my boss scored me a part-time gig working on faculty development and even policy development (I’m spending my last day drafting a policy on part-time tenure-track faculty members). Two days in the office, and a few hours from home. Not a bad deal, but it required a great deal of mental shuffling. All the things I had put off until after VISTA was up were on hold again. Most are still on hold.
Our unit moved from our little suite, but I was left behind. I share the suite with two (sometimes three) quiet men. It’s weird. I’ve taken to working with my door closed regularly. I’m pretty quiet and self-contained. But I miss the people I used to work with. It’s strange being in the same office, with different people down the hall and with your desk moved to be ADA compliant. It’s especially worker-bee-esque to be chained to a desk two blocks away, with getting that work done being the only value I give to the university.
My contract was technically supposed to be over two weeks ago, but the funding runs out Monday, and there was something no one wanted to do that they could ask me to do (and which I didn’t mind doing, really). So. Monday, that’s it.
It’s strange. I feel like I’ve spend all of Charlotte’s 10 1/2 months waiting for something and that I’ve missed a lot, at least mentally. I feel guilty that I get to be with Charlotte daily, while my wife works hard to make money to feed us all, at a job that’s not in her field and for which she’s underpaid. I feel like I’ve given every professor that’s ever looked out for me the finger twice: once when I didn’t go out for teaching jobs; again when I’m going to put my “credentials” on the shelf for 3-4 years altogether. I’m waiting for it to bother me, that I have a freakin PhD in philosophy and that I “stay home.”
I’m steeling myself for the shit I’ve been getting and will probably get. A good friend of mine joked that he told someone about having a friend who’s “a doctor” but “all he does is stay home.” A lot of people at work react strangely and treat me like some basket case who gave up. If I were a bolder man, I’d respond, “Oh, yeah? What are YOU doing with YOUR PhD? Right, you don’t have one!” There are some very supportive people, though. My family and most of my friends are being awesome. A lady I work with responded, last week when I told her what I’ll be doing, “Good. Good for you. That’s great. The best thing you can do.” I wanted to hug her.
Having done both, I can easily say that parenting is harder than getting a PhD. More rewarding, too. DAD is a much better title than Dr.