Careers in Institutional Research
http://chronicle.com/article/Careers-in-Institutional/46068/
Institutional Research Analyst Salary
http://www.jobs-salary.com/institutional-research-analyst-salary.htm
Higher Education
2012年6月19日 星期二
2011年10月11日 星期二
2011年7月24日 星期日
2011年6月23日 星期四
Audible.com(有聲書)的會員取消流程
會接觸到Audible.com是因為Amazon的關係,Audible應該可以算是Amazon旗下負責販售有聲書的子系統。當時想要購買的一本書剛好有有聲書的版本,因為是拿來當做閒暇時閱讀用,沒有紙本也無妨,加上如果加入Audible.com,可以免費下載2本有聲書,加上30天的試用會員(可以下載會員免費的紐約時報和華爾街日報,或其他免費資源)。如果試用期一到,不想付費買書的話,可以馬上中止。
(此訊息以2011年6月為準,未來可能會有更動)
Audible.com提供許多方案供聽者選擇。我一開始加入的會員方案是AudibleListener®Gold(暫稱金卡會員),按月付14.95元,獲得1個點數。
大部份的有聲書都是1個點數即可換得(最高約可換到30元上下的書)。點選書本放入購物車後會顯示其價值的點數。
若想取消者,網路上有寫得滿清楚的取消流程(包含流程中Audible可能提供的優惠方案)可供參考:
How to Cancel Your Audible Account (or Simply Put it on Hold)
以下簡述取消流程:
(此訊息以2011年6月為準,未來可能會有更動)
Audible.com提供許多方案供聽者選擇。我一開始加入的會員方案是AudibleListener®Gold(暫稱金卡會員),按月付14.95元,獲得1個點數。
大部份的有聲書都是1個點數即可換得(最高約可換到30元上下的書)。點選書本放入購物車後會顯示其價值的點數。
若想取消者,網路上有寫得滿清楚的取消流程(包含流程中Audible可能提供的優惠方案)可供參考:
How to Cancel Your Audible Account (or Simply Put it on Hold)
以下簡述取消流程:
- 點選右上角的"account details",在顯現畫面的右上方點選"Change My Membership",然後選擇左下角的"Cancel Membership"。
- 首先會詢問您取消原因,按下一步後會提供您一個折扣方案。比如我點選的取消原因是" I'm trying to reduce expenses.",按下一步後,Audible提出送我20元折價券(以改變我的心意?),此時我可以選擇接受或"continue cancelling"(繼續取消流程)。
- 此時我選擇"continue cancelling",下一個畫面,Audible提出另外的方案以節省您的開支:付9.95元,即可在一年內,保留現有點數,並享有會員優惠。此方案稱為“AudibleListener®Light"。
- 您可以接受上述方案。若繼續按"continue cancelling",下一個畫面會出現"Put Your Account On Hold"(暫停會員帳戶):您可以暫停您的會員資格90天,也就是3個月中您將無需繳費也不會收到點數,但在這90天當中您仍然可以享有會員的優惠(如:會員7折優惠)。
- 您可以接受暫停會員資格,或繼續取消。
- 堅持下去(繼續按"continue cancelling"),即可取消成功。
2011年4月16日 星期六
【轉錄】6 Easy–and Not So Easy–Pieces of Advice for Grad Students
March 28, 2011, 1:36 pm
By Gina Barreca
It’s almost sad, but pretty much everything I’ve ever said to my graduate students—at least in terms of what they need to know to help them write their dissertation—can be summed up by the following points:
1. Choose your topic wisely. Your choice of subject is very much like your choice of mate. This will either be the beginning of a long and beautiful relationship or the start of a bad first marriage. You’re going to be living with it for a long, long time. One way or another, you’ll be spending serious time together. Don’t let outside pressures make your choices for you. Other people don’t know what is best because you—and only you—must have a certain amount of passion going into the process. Passion cannot be manufactured. You can’t assume it will come later on in the relationship. Researching and writing your dissertation is, in effect, the courtship period of your professional life. If you’re not going to be in love with what you are doing now—be excited by it, look forward to getting back to it, be thinking about it with a real fondness, and a pleasant sense of possessiveness—my bet is that you aren’t going to begin to feel that way after three years. By that point, it will be nagging at you, making demands, and lots of other subjects will seem sexier. Everybody else’s pick will look like a better choice. If there wasn’t some real love at the beginning, you’re going to be in trouble.
2. Write for those who will be reading you in 10 years, not for those people who wrote about your topic 10 years ago. Write for those who will one day be your students, not for those who are your professors and senior colleagues now; keep in mind that, eventually, the readers who will be most interested in your work are those who will be looking up to you as the expert in the field. Too often we write in order to please our elders, our mentors, and the people who made a big splash when they first came out with their research and work. We spend a lot of time looking in scholarship’s rear view mirror, which is not really a safe way to navigate in terms of going forward. Knowing your stuff is one thing; being stuck in your stuff and unable to move is another.
3. Almost indistinguishable from point number two, yet significantly different and perhaps even more important, is the need to remember that you cannot count on the praise of others to keep you going. Ever. You will almost never get it and when you do get it, you won’t get enough of it. And when you do get it, it won’t be the right kind. Also, it probably won’t be the right person saying it. Or it won’t be about the right thing. It simply doesn’t work that way: Outside affirmation is nice for elementary school children and 12-step programs, but that’s it. Other people are not going to spend their time telling you that you are doing a good job. Adults don’t do that for other adults. Adults know they are doing a good job when they are not being actively criticized.
4. There are fascinating power imbalances in terms of the adviser-student relationship, and others wiser, more informed than I have written about them. But one thing I can tell you is this—even the best adviser in the world is not going to have enough time for you. My adviser was an enormously patient and generous man; there were times during my last year of graduate school when I clung to him like a starfish. But he might have described me as coming after him like a shark. I know for a fact that I was less needy than some other folks. I could divide my intensely narcissistic hunger for attention among the members of my committee, for example. And amazingly enough, I had a big group of friends who were willing to put up with me (n.b.: I happen to be a very good cook). Your adviser is there to advise, not to parent, not to edit, not to coddle—except in very small doses.
5. The perfect is the enemy of the good. You can rewrite, you can revise, you can refine, but the first thing you have to do is write. Of course what you write is going to be imperfect. The fun part, remember, is that what you think is good might turn out not to be (kill your darlings and all that) but more importantly, what you think is absolutely terrible might turn out to be a version of the most interesting idea you’ve come up with yet. You just might not be able to recognize it when it appears in its first incarnation. To revise before you know what you’re actually saying is not only to risk throwing out the baby with the bath water, but also to risk killing the wolf in sheep’s clothing. You want that wolf. You want the idea with fangs and claws and energy. It would be a shame to slaughter something wild and call it lunch. Perfectionism isn’t cute, it isn’t helpful, and unless you’re a tailor, an eye surgeon, or part of a high-wire act (literally, not metaphorically) it’s not a useful trait.
6. Only writing counts as writing. Long discussions over dinner, reading yet another piece of research, having yet another discussion over drinks, rediscovering yet another brilliant idea thrown out in an e-mail to an old lover and then quickly deleted, none of this counts as writing. Don’t kid yourself. Your dream-self, your cats, your dog, your spouse, your colleagues, your writing group, and your friends: None of them can write your book for you. Not even if you bribe them with treats. Only you can do it. That’s the hard part, and that’s what’s great, and that’s what you need to do. Go on then; get started.
2011年3月10日 星期四
【轉錄】What I Tell My Graduate Students
What I Tell My Graduate Students
By Lennard J. Davis
In my mind, there is no doubt that an important part of my job is to make sure my graduate students get their own jobs. What that means is talking the turkey of job placement as soon as they walk in my door and tell me they want to do a Ph.D.
First I inform them of the current job situation, whatever that is at the time. I don't sugarcoat the dismal nature, say, of today's academic market. But I also say that I have had very good success in placing my graduate students. Then I make it clear that the first thing they need to do is start thinking about the minimum requirements for going on the job market.
They often look a little stunned to be getting a lecture about professional development when they have just come in to ask me if I'll be on their master's-thesis defense. But I think it's not just the early bird who gets the worm; it's the very, very early bird.
The next thing I do is set the bar for the minimum requirements in my field. To even get into the race, I tell students, you need three published articles, two or three book reviews, attendance and paper presentation at professional conferences, and, ideally, a contract for the publication of the dissertation.
I emphasize the need to have a geological sense of time when it comes to academic publication. The turnaround from submitting an article to its publication can be a year or two, if you are lucky. So to have three articles published, you need to start as soon as possible.
I point out that book reviews, which don't count anywhere near as much as an article, are relatively easy to do and quicker to get published. Students should just look at the journals in their field, turn to the back pages, where the journal will often list "books received," and write a letter on department stationery asking to review a relevant book.
I tell my students to plan their dissertation committees with the job search in mind. They should pick professors who not only are skilled in the field of the dissertation, but who also have national and international reputations. Letters from those professors will count a great deal. And as these things go, letters from full professors will count more than letters from associate professors, and so on down the line.
I advise students to attend professional conferences for a number of reasons. First, there is the inevitable networking, which helps you not only now but also later in your career. Second, by attending sessions at the conference, students can learn the latest scholarly insights circulating, well before the publication of those ideas (which will take those glacial several years of research and publication that I mentioned). So attending a conference can be a way of looking into the crystal ball in your field to see what the future will bring. Third, the book exhibits of such professional organizations will let students browse the newest texts and even unpublished page proofs before the material is filtered through the review mill and enters the consciousness of scholars and critics.
Another important reason to attend professional conferences is that often the editors of presses are there looking for new books to publish. Students always seem surprised to think that editors are eagerly looking for new books rather than shooing people away from their stalls. Getting to know those editors, and even pitching a book idea to them, is an important part of career development.
I normally attend the Modern Language Association convention, and I will literally walk my students through the exhibits and introduce them to editors I think might be interested in their work. I consider that assistance to be a crucial part of my job as a mentor. If the editors publish their books, those students will get and keep a job. If not, perhaps not. I remember one student who felt a bit embarrassed to be the chick to my mother hen in the aisles of the book exhibit, but she did end up getting a good book contract and a job.
Choosing a field and a topic also involves a strategic element. A student came to my office the other day telling me that he wanted to do his dissertation on physics and late-20th-century American literature. I told him, as I have told many others, to pick up a copy of the job list in our field and see, if he were applying this year with that topic, how many jobs would he be eligible for. He came back a bit sobered and decided to rethink his dissertation topic.
To some, that might seem to involve crass commercialism. Might not I be keeping a significant book or idea from seeing the light of day? Shouldn't we just nurture all good ideas and let the chaff fall where it may?
Perhaps, but I don't see students' lives as chaff. At the end of the academic day, having a job is really what should be the outcome of spending years in a Ph.D. program. You might have written the best and most provocative dissertation in the world, but if it didn't appeal to any job committees or employers, you could end up stocking the shelves at Barnes & Noble (not to disparage those who do that valuable work).
In terms of helping my students get their articles published, I suggest that they take any paper for which they received an A and expand it to article length. Then I go over possible academic journals, often ones whose editors I know, and tell them to send the article along with a mention of my name.
I also advise my students to write out an envelope with the address of another likely publication at the same time as they send off the first one. When, and if, the article comes back with a nice rejection note, I tell them to rewrite the piece, if there are any suggestions, and stick the revised essay in the already addressed second envelope. Quick turnaround is fair play.
There should be no shame or hesitation in sending out a good article, even if it has been rejected. Tastes vary, opinions fluctuate, and each publication has a feeling of the right fit for it. Keep addressing the next envelope in advance.
When the dissertation is done and passed, I welcome the student into the ranks of professorship, and then I ask to see the letter of application, the CV, the writing sample, the statement of teaching philosophy, and anything else sent out to a job-search committee.
I work with them on their letters, making sure they highlight and, yes, "sell" themselves and their special qualifications.
I've noticed that many graduate students are shy about pushing their unique qualities and often hide their lights in dull letters of application. Others can be too brash, of course, and so it helps to go over their materials with them.
That kind of mentorship is good not only for students, but for faculty members as well. I feel closer to my students and more involved in their fates. And that allows me to be happy when they tell me that they have, in fact, gotten a job.
Which is a job well done for all.
Lennard J. Davis is a professor of English, medical education, and disability and human development at the University of Illinois at Chicago.
The Chronicle of Higher Education
March 6, 2011
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