- Dr. Arpita Mondal
Many a times, I get asked by friends and family, on days that I don’t have a class – ‘but you don’t have to teach! What keeps you busy?’ I thought of penning it down once and for all, and hence this article. What does an average day in the life of an IIT professor look like? Is teaching the only thing we do? If not, what else? Why is this profession not a nine-to-seven job that let’s you forget about its joys and worries beyond the office hours? Let’s discuss that a bit.
Let me take a typical day with teaching as an example, to give you some idea about what fraction of my job actually constitutes teaching. It is a day in April. I have an 8.30 am lecture. Since I have the support of my family and domestic help to look after my infant, I am at least relieved of the worry of freshening him up, brushing his teeth, feeding him, bathing him, and so on and so forth on the days that I am away for work. Everyone knows the efforts in keeping a baby human alive. (Or do they?)
No matter how much one prepares, the last minute rehearsal before a class is indispensable. At least to me, it is. Also, my classes are scripted. I wish I could retain more in my brain and be more flamboyant in class, but no – most of the pauses, points of interaction, jokes and anecdotes – they are all set-up. I do improvise sometimes, but I cannot rely on my improvisation skills. Also, since I teach mathematically intensive subjects, there is a large possibility of goofing up in class. Therefore, rehearsal is important. The goof-up still happens, but the goal is to minimize it. So here I am, awake at 6.30 am indulging in some last minute mugging. Finally, I reach class just on time, and be done with it at 9.30 am. But hold on, there are always the over-enthusiastic bunch of students who would gherao the instructor with great questions after a class. Fifteen to thirty minutes may go by, just in those discussions – and I love them! Before I realize, it is 10 am already, and I have to enter into a video-conferencing call with my collaborators in Australia – we have a unique joint-PhD program – and it’s time for the student to present her weekly updates.
I thought I would excuse myself early in the meeting, but the discussions went on deep into the statistics of extremes and a lot of investigations in interpreting some of the results we got. Such discussions and intellectual exercises do provide a kick. Indeed, these are the very highs that one gets to experience in academia that perhaps no other profession could offer. The meeting finally gets over around 11.30 am. I have exactly an hour to check my emails and catch-up on news, and networking. There are fifteen unread emails from last night - some require action - I somehow ‘star’-mark them, and add on the pile of pending things (Gosh! Will I ever be able to have a clean slate there?). And then some updates on my LinkedIn and Twitter profiles and a bit of stalking my peers. And this is not at all for competition, but merely for the motivation to excel, as much as the world does. Oh, there’s that recently published work from my peer researcher in the UK - this may be of interest to one of my PhD students! And, oh, there’s that workshop for early career researchers that my colleague in the USA is hosting - maybe I should ask some of my slightly-advance-into-their-PhDs students to attend!
Around 12.10 pm, my office landline number rings - my dear friend and colleague is on the other side - ‘hey Arpita! Do you want to catch a cup of coffee in our lounge?’ Who could refuse the lure of having a deep conversation with a colleague with whom your mental frequency and worldview matches so much! And there goes twenty minutes of my enjoyment.
At 12.30 pm, I have to be present for a meeting with the students’ council of the hostel where I serve as the Associate Warden. We discuss budget, facilities, activities and all sorts of other issues the inmates may be facing. (Sometimes we get invited to their lovely dinner parties, too!) Done at 2 pm, and turning down their invitation for lunch, I rush back home. I have to check on my baby. ‘Everything is fine, Didi!’, assures my help. My husband has left for his office on time, too. I gobble on my food and rush back to office. At 3 pm, there’s this annual research progress seminar of a PhD student in my Department on whose progress committee I serve. This is the hardest time of my day - not only because of the sloth that has set in post lunch, but also because the student has been repeating this seminar every six months now - without any signs of improvement. Unfortunately, our unkind rebukes to her to consider her research more seriously, always end up with her getting dejected and on the verge of breaking down. The unpleasant and repetitive nature of this situation is killing. Many a times, students fail to realize that PhD is not for everybody. And it is ok to quit, if you don’t see the end of the tunnel. Life is so much more than a few years or a degree!
Finally, at 4 pm, we resolve the meeting and rush for a department all-faculty meeting. Here, we discuss issues of relevance to all faculty members - instructions for courses, grading, changes in policy, admission related statistics, functioning of the department, cleanliness, staff-related issues - you name it! There are also meetings of smaller committees that specialize in their duties, such as policy committee, admissions committee, faculty recruitment committee, undergrad students’ matter committee, postgrad students’ matter committee, and so on. The up-side of it is that we get enough food and tea/coffee to tide through these meetings. Interestingly, there are some voices here that are reasonable, while some are not; some argumentative, some polite; some flamboyant, while others conservative. What amuses me about these meetings is that sometimes we get to see unseen aspects of the personality in each of us. It is, perhaps, both good and bad.
Transacting business fast is difficult when the size of the meeting is this large. Finally, we are done by 6 pm. There’s a student waiting for me in my office - his manuscript has come back from a good journal the previous evening. He was shattered, and so was I, partly, because we considered that work to be one of our best. However, rejections are a part of research. And the sooner we come to terms with it, the better it is for us as well as for the work. What we consider our best might not make it to the topmost journal, while the one we thought is merely ‘a good’ study can eventually be published in the best journal. This is the reality!
I had spoken to the student briefly last evening, but he needs more counseling as he is inexperienced, and otherwise may get discouraged. Also, we need to discuss on how to address the reviewers’ comments, what additional analysis needs to be done, and where to submit it next. Finally, I reach home at 7.45 pm, with a part of my brain not functioning any more, due to exhaustion. But my day has not ended, because at 8 pm, I have given time to a journalist who wants to know more about our recent work related to droughts and agrarian crisis in an important region in the country. After speaking for about half an hour, I finally am relieved of my duties for the day.
A simple, home-cooked (albeit microwaved!) dinner, thanks to my cook, warm hugs from my baby, company of my partner, and the comfort of home slow me down and let me into peace. As I lay down in bed, pop comes two notifications in my email - there’s a new scheme announced by the Government for funding research projects related to my area, proposal submission deadline soon. Also, I had earlier agreed to review a paper for a well-known journal in my field. The editor has reminded that I have missed the deadline that was today, and must submit my review soon. Tomorrow may be a harder day.
Dr. Arpita Mondal is an Assistant Professor (specialised in Water Resources Engineering) at IITB, associated with the Civil Engineering department & Interdisciplinary Program (IDP) in Climate Studies.
Link to her profile: https://sites.google.com/site/arpita567/home
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