Goodbye Academia

An end of a season...

For the past nine years, teaching has been a substantial part of my identity. This spring, I decided not to renew my contract in order to begin a new adventure (more on that at a later date). So as the school year begins without me, I’m increasingly aware of the void it leaves in my life.

After grad school, I was fortunate to walk right into a full-time assistant professor position at a local university. There were so many of my classmates who were much more qualified and talented than me, but everything aligned in my favor. Honestly, I had zero teaching experience when I began as an adjunct the prior year. My MFA program was strictly a practice based program, so TA opportunities didn’t exist.

Like many decisions in my life, I just hoped for the best and jumped in feet first. Thankfully, I found a deep joy in walking with younger artists on their journey, hopefully fast-tracking them through many of the technical and philosophical hurtles I had to figure out on my own. There’s just something magical about seeing someone understand and accomplish something like art-making for the first time.

Spending most of my professional hours in a classroom rather than making photographs comes with its troubles. The lingering feeling of not making enough work to be considered a “real” photographer haunted me for years. It still does if I’m being honest. But the constant grind of freelance photography just didn’t align with my family life and need for financial stability. My oldest daughter was one when I started teaching, so the regular hours, health insurance, and summers off gave me the opportunity to be present in my family.

So how did I justify teaching over “doing” apart from the logical, pragmatic reasons? First, I had to see my work in the classroom as being just as important as my photographs. My philosophies and convictions as an artist could be translated to the classroom, ideally shaping the beliefs and practices of my students. It’s likely that my classroom had a greater impact on people than my photographs (which is sobering).

Second, I had to realize that I make photographs, but I’m not just a photographer. Photography is a way to contend with reality. If I’d never picked up a camera, maybe I would have become a writer or a filmmaker or a sociologist. Who knows, I could of been a barber, chopping it up with my customers about our menial lives under the soft glow of fluorescent lights and the sound of clippers perfecting high and tights.

As this identity is buried, I want to briefly mourn the end of “Professor Hardin.” That’s right, I made my students call me Professor Hardin. He was a character that I created to be who I needed to be. He always wore button-up plaid shirts and blue jeans. He often made self-effacing jokes under his breath just loud enough that only those that were truly listening would hear. He even ordered his cap and gown off of Amazon a week before school started because his crazy anti-establishment MFA program didn’t even have a hooding ceremony. I still don’t know if I wore the right colored hood.

Professor Hardin, I will miss playing you. And I will miss those that sat before me each day. I hope to play you again someday…

Photo by Kathleen Sparks from 2015