be the three bullet point full professor (a bit)

Peer reviews are really important to me (See this previous post for some reasons why). In many academic niches they really make the (academic) world go round and so it is important that we do them, do them well (enough), and do them in a timely manner. (It's also important we do them without being an asshole, but I'm going to tell myself all of my blog readers already know how to do that, because you are nice, kind, and supportive people).

This doesn't mean that I necessarily enjoy doing peer reviews or that I don't find them to be a pain in the ass. Mostly for reasons related to me consistently forgetting to put time in my calendar to do them (but also sometimes because I get sick of reading the same terrible manuscript that I've rejected over and over again).

Recently I sat down at a cafe to review a manuscript that had made its way to me a second time because of the first R&R decision from the editor. The first thing I decided to do was read through the other reviews and the response letter from the authors to gauge how well they had responded to my comments and the comments of the other three reviewers.

There was my review, about a page long. There were the reviews of Reviewer 2, same length. Reviewer 3 wrote about 2 pages of comments, which I thought was a bit long but they seemed reasonable and justified.

Then I got to Reviewer 4.

Reviewer 4's entire review was three bullet points long. 

(and no, it wasn't "this paper is so amazing you should accept it")

This epitomizes for me how I'm feeling about work these days. I'm the one-page professor, who feels guilty for not doing a "better job." I'm surrounded with three-bullet point professors who probably don't feel guilty at all (in my mind). And in my crankiness I see nothing but benefits from being the three bullet point professor: More time for research and grant writing. Less stress. Not taking home work to do late at night.

Note: All of those benefits might not even be true, I know this.

I'm so tired out these days. Work is requiring a lot of effort. So Be The Three Bullet Point Professor (at least a bit) is, for now, my new motto for productivity.

can we prioritize our peer reviews? can that be a thing?

Now that my blog is older and hopefully a little wiser, and also due to the advent of twitter, I try not to rant much. (It just brings out the trolls).

But this is a bit of a rant.

When I was "growing up" in grad school, Dr. Smooth taught me that there is a hierarchy of work. Every academic likely has their own version. The hierarchy I was taught goes something like this:

Priority 1: Manuscripts being revised & resubmitted, grants with hard deadlines
Priority 2: Writing
Priority 3: Data Analysis & Data Collection
Priority 4:  Administrative work, teaching, other professor bullshit
Priority 5: Life. If you're so weak you need a god damn life, that is.

My own hierarchy is not as cut and dry as that, as I probably prioritize teaching higher than Dr. Smooth did and I am so weak I need a god damn life. However, we're different people at very different institutions and have different passions, so that's okay.

I'd like to propose a new hierarchy:

Priority 1: Manuscripts being revised & resubmitted, grants with hard deadlines
Priority 2: Peer reviews
Priority 3: Writing
Priority 3: Data Analysis & Data Collection
Priority 4: Administrative work, other professor bullshit*

*Y'all can put teaching where ever y'all want, as far as I'm concerned. No judgment, wherever it goes.

Here is my basic argument: We all want more publications. We all want the things that come attached to more publications, such as lines on our CVs, raises, grants, and oh... I don't know... some of us would like this thing called "tenure." So why can't we just agree that our peer reviews move to the top of the hierarchy a little bit?

Here is why I'm complaining: I really, really want tenure. (I'd also kind of like a raise). I work at an institution with a really, really doable tenure bar. I have nothing to complain about. Except, given the sheer amount of time I have to devote to waiting for the peer review process, I've had to overshoot the publication bar by about 2-3x that needed to get tenure. In my field, it takes me a minimum of 3 months to receive my reviews back. The maximum amount of time I have waited for reviews is about 10 months.

I submitted my first manuscript at PCU about 2 months after I arrived here. Since then, I have consistently been waiting on some review or another, without pause. 

The best case scenario in that case is about an 8 month wait - I get one round of revisions, 4 months each time on the submission to have a decision made. I try to get my revisions back to journals within one month (sooner if I can), so that's now a 9-10 month wait. (Proposed new metric: that's a 1-baby wait)

Okay that's not so bad - I need to be constantly working about 18 months ahead (2 baby wait), I'm willing to work like that. I always did it as a grad student, I can do it pre-tenure. That means of course that your tenure clock just lost a year and a half, by the way. Anything you submit after the end of your 5th year or so? Who fucking cares, you won't get that shit back in time for your case file anyway!

The worst case scenario? That's a lot worse. Let's say it takes 6 months to get my reviews back and I do one round of revisions (an ideal situation still). Now that paper has taken me a year. What about the time I had to wait 10 months? Now we're at 22 months (2.5 baby wait...?)

(And please don't say "well pull your article from the journal" or "complain to the editor" - untenured Assistant Professors have no power, and we're certainly not going to start burning bridges with editors).

Here is what I heard back when I complained (both on the blog and in real life): People are busy, everyone has shit to do, I do these last in my list of things to do. Or, "I get around to doing them when the editor reminds me a few times." (Gah! Does no one else have a calendar?!)

Peer reviews are a life blood of the current publish or perish system. They're the "Do Not Pass Go" of the academic publishing world. Yet, everyone prioritizes them last. Dead last. Like.... after my worst administrative crap ever, last. It's like expecting your car to keep running without ever taking time to put gas in it. Or something more communal... expecting the bus system to run without ever... paying taxes.

It takes me about 2-4 hours to do a review. I polled my tweeps, and answers ranged from about 1-3 hours up to a full day of work. When I've been asked to do reviews, I usually get asked to return them within 4 weeks, sometimes longer.

If I know that someone who needs tenure, a promotion, a job, a raise, a grant, WHATEVER, is attached to that anonymous piece of writing, then I can find 4 hours in my month to do it. I bet I could even find a 6-8 hours.

If you can't do it? You really really can't get it done in a timely manner - say no. Just decline. Explain why, be polite, and decline. You're not that special, I promise. Someone else can be found. (And if somehow you are that special... well this is what happens when you're the only expert in your field. Deal with it). 

I know it sucks to put aside your own work for a day - I know that you barely have time to fit it in to begin with. It's hard for me too! However, next time you get something to review - when you're holding that paper in your hot little hands (or opening it on your hot little computer screen) - please try to imagine that the person attached to that paper is an untenured Assistant Professor like me who wants tenure, or a graduate student/postdoc who really wants to apply for a tenure track job. And have some mercy upon them, please.