We educators follow our passion. We get into teaching because we love the work. And that is as it should be.

But we are then told that while passion may be what got us into the classroom, it won¡¯t be what keeps us there. At some point, our passions will hit a wall of external responsibilities that are hard to live up to on an academic salary. So our emotional connection to the profession must be checked.

I never used to believe this. After leaving a lucrative job in real estate, I decided to get my master¡¯s in literature and pursue a career in English studies. I became an adjunct in New York City while bartending on the side. The days were stretched thin, and I could barely pay rent, but I had never felt more committed to my work.

I don¡¯t regret becoming an adjunct. But, looking back, I wonder if following my passion was both a privilege and a curse, blinding me to other life goals ¨C like building a savings account. On reflection, I wish I had had a better relationship with the emotion.

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Those of a Romantic temperament prize passion above all other traits, seeking it out in other people, as well as nurturing it in themselves. However, there have also been a lot of negative ?of the cost of following a passion, and some people question passion¡¯s role in our?. This has also led to some discussion of how educators should frame? as we prepare them for life in our new economy, in which so many inherently desirable jobs are becoming more precarious in nature.

I don¡¯t think educators should just ignore our own love for our profession and advise our students to pursue only solid, secure, well-paid professions. But I do think we need to acquire ¨C and disseminate ¨C a little more emotional intelligence.

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Emotional intelligence has been talked about for three decades in various circles, from yoga to big business, and its definition has been distorted for various purposes, so it¡¯s good to return to the term¡¯s original source: a written by two phycologists, Peter Salovey and John D. Mayer. They define emotional intelligence as ¡°the ability to monitor one¡¯s own feelings and emotions¡± and to become ¡°more creative and flexible in arriving at possible alternatives to problems¡±. For adjuncts facing countless issues, from job insecurity to health care costs, this skill set is crucial.

I believe that certain insights associated with emotional intelligence can help strengthen our ability to recognise and use our emotions in the moment as educators. One is that when people attend to their emotions, they may be directed away from a current problem and forced to look at a new issue of greater importance. It is important to remember this as we plod through another gruelling semester, ignoring our emotional state for the sake of our students. We may lock into the stress of our work and miss the larger concerns that relate to our own mental and physical health.

In a similar vein, when we experience mood swings, good or bad, they can shift our perception of the future. Those that experience these changes can usually generate a larger set of possible futures for themselves and, therefore, create more opportunities. It doesn¡¯t mean we need to become moody, but we should attend to negative moods when they arise. After all, happiness can¡¯t be attained by a simple act of will; while positive behaviour, such as altruism, can help alleviate negative moods, it can¡¯t remove significant sources of the negativity from your life.

For an adjunct, the question becomes: how is your work environment and colleagues affecting your moods and/or behaviour? If we want to be happy, it is important to pay attention to the feelings that are generated as we exit and enter our university hallways. Are the conditions of our employment creating a rumble of dissatisfaction that can be heard beneath the buzz of teaching?

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I wanted to believe that working in higher education would pay a fair wage that reflected the high cost of living in New York City, recognised my years of service to the university and provided an opportunity for growth and professional advancement. But even as I learned that these reasonable expectations would not be met, I chose not to pay attention. I let my passion for the work continue to grow. I only saw a future that I wanted to believe in.

As adjuncts, we can¡¯t let this happen. We can¡¯t let our passions pull us away from the reality of the job. It is important to recognise how this work makes us feel and to stay flexible in our situations. This might mean leaving our adjunct position or reflecting on how it can better serve our long-term goals within our disciplines.

Either way, we should attend to the subtle emotions that underpin the professional paths we choose to walk ¨C and always be open to better offers elsewhere.

Brent Lucia is assistant professor in-residence teaching writing and communication at the University of Connecticut.

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