Trusting the downtime

Research productivity is measured primarily as the number and quality of published papers that one accrues over time. The creative process of writing varies across faculty members. Many people struggle each step of the way to write papers and to publish them. Other faculty members struggle less with writing but must figure out how to balance research productivity with the demands of teaching and service. There is pressure to be productive on all fronts. Professors are scholars; we think about subject matter that interests us for a living. The nature of our work—that we think for a living—and the demands of productivity can be a bad mix if one is not careful.

Here is why. It simply becomes tough to let go. I am certain that this is the nature of most forms of professional work that require passion, but I am writing from the perspective of academia because that’s what I know best. The default setting of the mind is to stay active, to not shut off easily. Since we (academics) tend to enjoy thinking, and because we feel pressure to be productive with our thoughts, many of us think about work most of the time.

Thinking at work is actually quite difficult. There are many distractions. As politely as possible, I would like to suggest that much of work handed to faculty amounts to accounting, score-keeping, monitoring, record-keeping, and other forms of assessment. There is no doubt that such information on how we teach our classes, how much we publish, the amount of money we bring in for research, et cetera can be a valuable tool for bettering a university. But in terms of the day-to-day nature of our work, administrative requests amount to distractions. Thankfully, the higher administration where I work tends to be aware of this an attempts to make these processes easier, but it is not easy or pleasurable to add this type of work to the mix.

Writing papers at work can be cumbersome because our offices are the locations of the interface between students and faculty, person to person. It is our job to be available to students in order to answer questions, to provide advice if they seek it (if we have any to give), to simply be available. The need to be available comes into direct conflict with the need to focus on writing. I close my door and do not open it when I am writing, but a balance between being open and closed is required.

Teaching productivity also requires focus. One must be prepared for classes each day, which is an intense exercise. It does not represent time writing, time doing service, time being available for students, et cetera. To balance teaching preparation, grading, writing, and other activities (even collegiality), professors often allow their work responsibilities to overflow into their personal time, and this is quite a natural process given that the mind defaults to thinking, not to shutting off.

So here’s the bigger problem, traveling too far down this road can lead to exhaustion, burnout, and even bitterness. We (professors) are very cognizant of this in April after nine intense months of work. In May and June, I often must intentionally shut the faucet of the mind off to go do something else. This represents an explicit commitment to not be productive. I struggle to do this because it requires letting go and trusting that downtime is a good choice. It means “giving up control.” Although control is an illusion in the first place, it is a pervasive and powerful one. 

I have learned through the years that there are times when I simply cannot be creative for purposes of teaching and research. At the end of the academic year (April), my creative potential hits the bottom because I am worn out. I used to panic and push myself even harder. But eventually, through experience, I learned that time away enhances productivity and encourages a fresh perspective. Now I look forward to the downtime because I know how easily the faucet can be turned back on, and I now trust that ideas will come through the period of rest fully intact and more easily expressed.