Tall, Dark, and Mysterious


Everything I ever needed to know about grad school, I learned the hard way

File under: Righteous Indignation, No More Pencils, No More Books. Posted by Moebius Stripper at 2:30 pm.

Over at Toilet Paper With Page Numbers, a new-to-me blog that’s going straight into my bookmarks, some advice on picking your poison - that is, selecting an advisor for grad school. TPWPN’s taxonomy of advisors (Micromanager, Ambitious Geek, Absentminded Professor) is geared at science students, but anyone considering studying math at the graduate level should read it, too. Now. Seriously, git; TD&M will still be here when you’re done. If it were up to me, which it isn’t, that post would be included in every science grad student orientation booklet. I don’t remember what was in my orientation booklet way back when, but it wasn’t as useful as, say, this:

The Creative Genius: An older researcher who, at one point in the past, struck a home-run or two and is now flush with cash. Usually has more than one sub-group, and misuses time switching his or her attention back and forth between them as fancy strikes. Usually gives students a lot of room to pick their own projects, and has the money to let you develop your ideas. That’s great if you, yourself are creative, but a nightmare of a 7-year Master’s degree if you are not. (For real. I know of at least one 10 year Master’s). Be honest with yourself, and if you are just not that creative, go for the Micromanager.

Advantages: Money, money, money, and room to run free.

Disadvantages: Has a lot of ideas to start you out with in your first year. No one in the history of the lab has ever gotten any of them to work in the advisor’s entire 20 year career, so find a new idea quick, or prepare for Master’s hell.

Ah, that brings me back. Which reminds me, what is a certain student of my former advisor’s doing these days? Last we spoke, he was wrapping up his seventh year as a grad student and celebrating his 34th birthday, ostensibly making some progress on his thesis. Lifelong Student’s (15 years in postsecondary education and counting) graduate career had seen him switch departments twice, make enemies out of more or less everyone in all three of above, postpone his quals until Year 6, and finally get our mutual advisor (hereafter “Eccentric Genius”) to just solve his research problem for him so that LS’s Ph.D. thesis was reduced to a paraphrasing of someone else’s work. If Lifelong Student actually did manage to defend, then that would make him EG’s second graduate. In fourteen years. I lost track of EG’s refugees sometime into my second year: in my three year stint in grad school, a good half dozen students had signed up, or seriously considered signing up, to work under EG and then came to their senses before I did. The other student of EG’s who obtained her Ph.D., did so just before I arrived; I heard through the grapevine (LS, in particular), that she hadn’t understood any of the first sixty pages of a paper she’d cowritten with EG, and that she had understood only approximately half of the last ten. After finishing her seven-year graduate school career, she took an unrelated job in industry.

But that’s beside the point I was planning to make, which is this: if you’re a Master’s student, it’s nigh irrelevant whether or not your supervisor is a leading expert in their field. In fact, I’d advise against working with leading experts, as I’d wager that they’re probably less likely than non-leading-experts to be able to communicate effectively with amateurs. Master’s students do not need leading experts. Master’s students need supervisors who are solidly grounded in their subject, yes, but nearly everyone with a Ph.D. in the appropriate discipline can be counted on for that. What Master’s students really need, and what are in considerably shorter supply, are advisors who can advise. Master’s students, particularly ones who’ve never done any thesis-like research before, need advisors who can identify, to the uninitiated, the steps of the research process and guide their students through them.

I wish someone had told me that when I was assigned to Eccentric Genius, a world-renowned researcher in Impenetrable Geometry; knowing that would have saved me more than two years of grief. Actually, I didn’t even need to be told that I didn’t need to work with a world-renowned expert; I would have settled for not being told, repeatedly, from professors and peers alike, that I was so lucky to be working with EG, that so many other students would kill to be in my position, that I would be insane to even consider working under anyone else, yadda. When other schools saw that I’d worked under EG, I was told repeatedly, the academic world would be my oyster, and this was truly the opportunity of a lifetime.

People kept telling me this, and I believed it. I believed it when, after our very first meeting during which EG told me to study up on a certain invariant, I read a paper and an appendix on the subject and tried, to no avail, to compute some examples myself. During our next meeting, I reported on my lack of progress, and asked EG if he could show me an example or two. For the next - no lie - FOUR HOURS, EG paced back and forth in front of the blackboard trying, and failing, to work through a handful of examples. “I haven’t done this in years,” he explained, “usually I use computations other people have done. But you can probably figure out from these papers…” Later that week, I pored through handful of papers he’d given me. Each used a different formula to compute the invariant; none of the formulas worked for the examples in the other papers.

I believed it the next week, when, in passing, one of EG’s colleagues at the grad school told me that he was impressed that I was reading those papers, which were high-level research papers, didn’t I know, certainly not the sort of thing that most graduate students get weaned on. I pointed out that there was nothing impressive about being assigned high-level papers to read. If I were able to understand them, that would be impressive. Still, though, I blamed myself for not living up to what I foolishly thought were reasonable expectations.

I believed it when I finished the summer research term with nothing to show for my work. I was lucky, I knew, to be working with Eccentric Genius. The reason I wasn’t making any progress was because I wasn’t smart enough. I just needed to work harder.

I started to grow doubtful a few months later, when I noticed that EG’s solution to my complete lack of progress and utter inability to make heads or tails of any of the papers he gave me, was to give me more papers to read. After a year I had some thirty high-level research papers in my office, and I’d started working with Lifelong Student on one of them. We were able to make some sense of it, but neither of us could see how on earth it applied to our assigned research topics. Still - I was lucky to be working with such an expert, and I knew I should be grateful.

I was frustrated and upset, but still grateful in some perverted way, when my questions about how the subject matter was motivated were brushed off. “That doesn’t matter,” he said, “just use the axioms.” It was true that those axioms had been developed in response to some other research problems, rather than being handed down by God Himself to his prophets in Impenetrable Geometry, but the fact of the matter was that I had a thesis in Impenetrable Geometry to write, and that it behooved me not to worry about what all of this stuff meant. There just wasn’t any time for that kind of thing. Meanwhile, had I managed to compute those invariants yet? I explained - again - that each of the research papers computed the invariants with a different formula that seemed to come out of nowhere, and perhaps I could make some sense of the formulas if I had some context, or something. None was provided; just trust the formulas, I was told, and don’t worry about where they come from.

It was at this point that I began to see clearly the roots of my frustration: I had decided to study math specifically because I thought I would never be expected to trust in tradition, to take any theory for granted. But I also knew that if I was going to accomplish anything under EG, it would have to be at his level, so far removed from the more elementary material that I couldn’t possibly learn all of the background in the time I had and that I would consequently have to start by accepting some results that I had neither the background nor the intuition to comprehend deeply. I had been working - or, more accurately, “working” - under EG for nearly two years at this point, and had gotten nowhere with him.

He realized it too, and decided to try something different. He started meeting with me and Lifelong Student together, and assigned us to dig through yet another collection of papers to see if there was anything useful there. I am not omitting details here: he handed us three hundred pages of mathematics with the explicit instructions, and I quote, “See if there’s anything useful here.” Anyone who’s ever taken a serious math course knows how absurd this is: getting through even a twenty-page pager will often take an entire weekend,

And I, beaten into submission and resigned to never being able to earn a Master’s degree, set to it with LS. We pored over the three hundred pages of mathematics, meeting periodically with EG. I couldn’t for the life of me tell what on earth anything in these three hundred pages of mathematics had to do with my research problem (which I still didn’t really understand, but whatever), but I plodded through (a subset of) them anyway. After all, I knew why it was that I wasn’t understanding anything: it was because I was stupid. And how could I squander the opportunity to work with a leading expert in Impenetrable Geometry?

A few months into this, LS commented in passing, “You know, I can sort of see what these three hundred pages of mathematics have to do with my research problem - however, from what Eccentric Genius told me, I don’t see what they have to do with yours.”

I suddenly felt ill. The next day, I composed an email to EG, asking, not in so many words, that question: how was the research problem I didn’t understand related to these three hundred pages of mathematics that I also didn’t understand? EG wrote back, calmly, “That’s a good question” (!!!) and then explained that it seemed I’d “lost interest” in my original research problem, so he’d taken it upon himself to give me another one, one related to what LS was working on.

He’d never bothered to tell me this.

This was two weeks before I was to take off for my summer job, which I spent variously distracted and in despair. I knew that I would not get a Master’s degree under Eccentric Genius. Classmates of mine who’d struggled through graduate level classes and had routinely solicited help from me, were getting their diplomas in two years. I didn’t know if I’d be done in three.

The next fall, fortunately, luck was on my side. Two things happened. One, I attended a conference of six talks, five of which I didn’t understand even slightly, and the sixth of which had me excited about math all over again; two, my grad school had just hired a young professor whose area of expertise was related to the topic of the sixth talk. I started working with him, first unofficially, then officially. It took me a few months to work up the courage to abandon EG, but finally I said to myself, out loud, you will never graduate with him. If you want to avoid hurting his feelings, keep working with him. If you want to graduate, jump ship, NOW.

Under my new supervisor, I saw for the first time what the grad student/advisor relationship could be. My new advisor gave me bite-sized pieces of work to do. Each week I’d read over a small section, work on some problems, and come up with questions. Later on, I’d work on more involved questions, and get stuck; during my meetings with him, he’d give me just the push I needed to get unstuck. I’d give him drafts every few weeks, and he’d make copious notes explaining what I needed to correct or clarify. I submited my thesis six months after I officially started working under him.

A year after I snagged the Master’s, I don’t blame my former advisor. Not every professor can be all things to all people; EG was an expert, suited to working with other experts, and perhaps some postdocs. A handful of Ph.D. students might have thrived under him, but I’m skeptical: when I left the school, his most promising Ph.D. student was frustrated by his lack of progress and was thinking of leaving. (EG’s response was to tell this guy to “think it over” at a conference in Europe that he could attend that summer, at EG’s expense.) I do blame the school, though, for assigning me to work with him, even though I’d never expressed an interest in his particular flavour of Impenetrable Geometry. I wish I’d been given an explicit idea of my responsibiltiies to my advisor, and his to me, as a graduate student doing research , so that I wouldn’t, in the absence of any clear guidelines or expectations, conclude that the reason for my lack of progress was because I was too stupid to do graduate level mathematics. I wish I’d been given explicit deadlines and tractable goals against which I could measure my progress. Instead, I was given one goal and told, “Once you can do this, you’ll have a good thesis.” And I couldn’t meet that goal.

I wish I’d been told that my job as a Master’s student was to build a solid background in my chosen field - not to build a reputation in it. I wish I’d been told that I did not need a big-name mathematician to help build a solid background in a respectable field - and that many a big-name mathematician wouldn’t help me get any closer to that goal.

In retrospect, all of this seems so obvious, but it wasn’t to me at the time. When I was in grad school, each failure of mine, contrasted with each success of a student working under a different advisor, eroded further my ability to look clearly at my situation. It blinded me even to the simple possibility that I could ask my peers about how they did their research; when I did find out some details, I wondered what I would do if I quit working under EG. By the end of my second year I was virtually paralyzed with self-loathing, at least as far as my work was concerned. I couldn’t even contemplate an advisor switch; I wasn’t worthy. I couldn’t see past my own inadequacies in assessing the sorry state of my research. It took me two years in grad school before I realized that I could, and should, demand better than what I was getting. It took year away from grad school before I was able to put everything in focus, before I could articulate a clear answer to “why did you leave before you got a Ph.D.?” that didn’t sound to me like an excuse.

Still, though, I can’t help but think that I could have learned at least some of this before. Would have made for a more helpful orientation than the “let’s meet the faculty and then have some cookies” one I attended, that’s for sure.


Market research

File under: Sound And Fury. Posted by Moebius Stripper at 5:03 pm.

Taking the train in Canada? Your fare options, in alphabetical order, are:

  • Comfort Advantage
  • Comfort Liberty
  • Comfort Super
  • VIA 1

Humour me a minute, will you, and sort these in what you think to be the increasing order by price. And then take a peek at the website to check your (I assume) nigh-random guess, and tell me: Does above nomenclature constitute a clever means of branding? Or does it leave you longing for a simpler time (end of 2004, if I recall correctly - the last time I took a train), when you rode in coach or business class or first class and you understood what that meant, even though you weren’t hip to all of the new-fangled train lingo that all the cool kids on the block were using, because you weren’t one of the cool kids, which to this day brings back painful memories?

Thought so.

Anyhoo, despite the fact that I have been known to purchase, and wear, women’s clothing*, an absurd proportion of which which is designed with six foot tall, 120-lb prepubescents in mind - I continue to harbour some illusion that the market does not operate entirely independently of consumer demand or customer preference. And, not that I’m an expert on fads or anything, but I’m reasonably sure that “Comfort Advantage” and such aren’t about to penetrate the vernacular in the way that “Kleenex” and “Jell-o” have. So, VIA executives, if you’re reading this? Can we use our creativity in ways that don’t just confuse and annoy the people who pay your salaries?

While I’m at it, a memo to places that sell food products in a variety of sizes: kindly avail yourselves of the entire spectrum of sizes, preferably in their street names (small, medium, large). As far as naming goes, the highfalutin thesaurus-generated equivalents of [above] are unnecessary; in terms of descriptions of sizes, the fourth quartile is insufficient . Starbucks, which has made use of not one, but two Romance languages in labelling its sizes of drinks with synonyms for “big”, is probably the worst offender on both counts; but some chain that I think is local to Ontario recently offered me an option for my fries - would I like the large, the jumbo, or the super? (”The smallest you have,” I said, and the cashier called back, “One large, to go.”) Though if we’re going to continue designating portions fast food and drinks thusly, I propose we cut to the chase and offer them in Large, Extra-Large, Jumbo, and You, Sir, Have The Largest Penis This Side Of The Greenwich Meridian. And for the other extreme, let’s have Small, Tiny, Itty-Bitty, and Look How Well I’m Adhering To My Diet Even Though I’m Eating Out. Reckon you can make a nice profit off of that last one, too.

* I leave those of my readers who have linked me as “he” to apply Occam’s Razor as they see fit.


Hot electoral reform

File under: 1000 Words, Character Writ Large, Home And Native Land, I Read The News Today, Oh Boy. Posted by Moebius Stripper at 1:51 pm.

While I was on the plane the other day, the Vancouver Sun left a message on my phone. They’d like to print my letter to the editor about their inept coverage of the referendum on electoral reform, and could I please confirm authorship and provide a photo? I’m not about to turn down an editorial board’s offer to expose their entire readership to my snark, so I phoned back and left a message, at around 5:30 Vancouver time, on May 4: yes, I said, I’d written the letter; but I didn’t have a photo for them.

My letter did not run on May 5. Nor did it run on May 6. Today’s issue ran several STV-related letters, and mine was not among them. (Maybe they print extra letters in the paper copy? I’m out of town, so I haven’t checked.) I concluded that the photo was the dealbreaker, which struck me as odd, until I remembered that one of the reasons British Columbians don’t know much about the single transferable vote is that voting theory isn’t a very sexy topic.

Which topics are sexy enough for news coverage? Let’s check the front page of Thursday’s issue of the Ottawa Citizen to find out:

Prostate cancer is sexy!

Leaving politics to care for one’s sick wife isn’t so sexy, but it’s important enough to be in the paper that serves the MP’s constituency -

However, golf is sexy!

I figure I could make my way onto the letters page with my dull electoral reform/media dysfunction letter if I submit an appropriate self-portrait. Some ideas:

  • Moebius Stripper posing in an extravagantly padded bra and miniskirt
  • Moebius Stripper provocatively licking her referendum ballot
  • Moebius Stripper winking and holding a package of condoms, along with a sign reading “STV’s…not STD’s!”

Though even those, I reckon, couldn’t compete with Carmen Electra and Cindy Crawford. Pamela Anderson, however, is a native British Columbian; perhaps we could get her behind the cause. (Lately she’s been speaking out against KFC’s treatment of chickens; some readers of the National Post wrote in about this, which gave the editors an excuse to print a huge photo of Pamela Anderson on the letters page.)

In related news: my mail-in voting package arrived in the mail the other day. It’s like a grab-bag of goodies: the package contains a pamphlet outlining the procedure for voting; the two ballots (one for the election, one for the referendum); a certification envelope; a plain secrecy envelope; and a SASE. Voting requires me to put the ballots inside the secrecy envelope inside the certification envelope inside the SASE, which delights me more than it ought to. Three envelopes! Who knew democracy could be so much fun?


Leaving on a seaplane

File under: Meta-Meta, What I Did On My Summer Vacation. Posted by Moebius Stripper at 8:41 am.

I’m heading out east for a few weeks to visit friends and family - two groups that I don’t see very often, and that I don’t write about publicly. In other words, I might be poking my head in here every now and again, but don’t expect much.

Talk amongst yourselves, and don’t break anything while I’m gone.


Update: Electoral reform is, like, boring. And hard.

The Vancouver Sun has another useless article about how damned little British Columbians know about the single transferable vote system. How little is little? Well, 39% of the electorate claims to know “very little” about STV, while 25% knows “nothing at all”. The vice president of polling company Ipsos-Reid suggests some reasons for this, namely: STV isn’t “sexy or interesting”; anyone (anyone!) who looks into it finds STV to be “very complicated”; and - my favourite! - “There hasn’t been enough media coverage to create a buzz, and even people looking for information might not find enough to make an informed decision.” One wonders if the journalists who find these things out just nod sadly - hmm, not enough media coverage. Crying shame, that, but not much WE can do - and then ferret out another poll about how little the unwashed masses, with their lack of information and access to media coverage, know about stuff.

But the kicker was that right beside this dreck was a shorter, better piece (not available online, of course) about how in Victoria, James Hansen, a fourth grade teacher with a Master’s in political science or somesuch, had taught his students about the very complicated STV system by having them vote on the class hamster’s name - first via the first-past-the-post system currently in use in BC, and then by STV. No word on how sexy the fourth-graders found STV, but they certainly seemed to find it interesting enough, and the consensus appeared to lean strongly in its favour. The article was filled with all sorts of great quotes from kids, most along the lines of “I liked this way of voting because even though the hamster didn’t get the first name I wanted, I got to pick a second choice.” I wish I could have run this sort of thing in my math classes - that right there, that’s a real-life application of math. CBC did something similar, with the smoothly run, and very clearly illustrated Ice Cream Election. (Double Double Chocolate, Mint Chocolate Chip, and Vanilla were chosen, beating out crappy flavours like Peanut Butter Chocolate and Vanilla Cheesecake; this somewhat boosts my faith in my province’s electorate.) Anyway, my point is: the mechanics of hamster naming and ice cream choosing are apparently beyond the intellects of nearly two thirds of British Columbians of voting age, as well as The MediaTM.

Anyway, I fired off a snarky missive to the Vancouver Sun telling them that they should get Hansen on their staff; let him demystify this big, scary referendum for the ignorant voters who can’t find enough information about STV. Better yet, let’s get freelance jobs for his students, who seem to have a leg up on some 64% of people who are actually eligible to vote this month, and who could probably give a halfway decent explanation of electoral reform in simple language. Maybe I should rethink my general reluctance to teach little kids. Might as well teach them about the democratic process before they’re too old to understand it.

[Related, sort of: registering to vote by mail-in ballot is less of an ordeal than I expected. Not sure how good a thing that is, considering. And, although I said so in the comments - right now, I am quite sure that I will vote in favour of STV.]

The Job Search, or, Blog Posts That Write Themselves

File under: Righteous Indignation. Posted by Moebius Stripper at 12:43 pm.

Someone sent me an email the other day (reply forthcoming!) wishing me luck in the job search, adding that on the one hand she wanted me to have good students for my sake, but that on the other hand, the irritating and clueless students were so much more fun to read about. I see the tension between those goals. I am confident, however, that, even if by some miracle I end up with students who can add fractions and such, the well of irritation and cluelessness will never run dry, so long as I must deal with administrators, many of whom have been clueless and irritating since before my students were even born. The students who think that they won’t have to write finals, remember anything they learned prior to last week, or come to class to get the assignments? Amateurs, amateurs all:

Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 17:27:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Moebius Stripper
To: employment@math.bcschool.ca
Subject: Posting #XXX-XX-XXXX


I am writing you regarding Posting #2005-XX-XXXX, seeking a full-time mathematics instructor for the period beginning May 1 and ending August 31. I applied for this position last month; could you please tell me the status of my application? Your website indicates that applications have not been screened yet, but I assume that this is incorrect.


Date: Mon, 2 May 2005 9:14:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Secretary to the Mathematics Department Chair
To: Moebius Stripper
Subject: Re: Posting #XXX-XX-XXXX

Dear Moebius Stripper,

Thank you for your query. The information on the website is correct. We had intended on screening the applications earlier, but there have been some unexpected delays. They will be screened in the coming weeks. Thank you for your patience. We apologize for the inconvenience.

* * *

Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 7:35:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Moebius Stripper
To: jobs@bccollege.ca
Subject: Application: mathematics and statistics instructor

To whom it may concern,

I am writing concerning an application I sent on February 15 to BC College for the limited-term position of full-time mathematics and statistics lecturer, starting August 1. I received confirmation for my application, but have heard nothing since. Could you please advise me on the status of my application? I intend to be out of BC for several weeks this summer and will at times have limited access to phone and email.

Thank you very much,
Moebius Stripper


Date: Fri, 29 April 2005 9:47:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jobs Secretary, BC College
To: Moebius Stripper
Subject: Re: Application: mathematics and statistics instructor

We did not advertise an opening for mathematics and statistics instructor at BC College.


Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 10:42:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: Moebius Stripper
To: Jobs Secretary, BC College
Subject: Re: Application: mathematics and statistics instructor

Hello again,

Thank you for your quick reply. I checked my files to confirm that I had indeed applied for the aforementioned position at BC College on February 15; attached is the email I sent to this address, along with my CV and teaching dossier. My application was confirmed by you on the afternoon of February 17 (see attachment). Could you please inform me on the status of this application?


Date: Fri, 29 April 2005 1:11:20 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jobs Secretary, BC College
To: Moebius Stripper
Subject: Re: Application: mathematics and statistics instructor

I have checked the advertised positions, which are available online at http://bccollege.ca/jobs/faculty.htm. All of the positions advertised in the last year are listed here, and the position you mention does not exist. Perhaps you are confusing us with another university, as we did not advertise for a mathematics and statistics instructor this fall.


Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 3:18:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: Moebius Stripper
To: Jobs Secretary, BC College
Subject: Re: Application: mathematics and statistics instructor

Hello again, and again thank you for your quick reply.

Attached is a copy of an ad for the aforementioned position, which was sent to you on January 31 by the BC College math department head, and which you then forwarded to my department chair; it clearly mentions that BC College was seeking a mathematics and statistics instructor for the fall. Could you please check this with him? Apparently the website is incomplete.


Date: Mon, 2 May 2005 12:15:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jobs Secretary, BC College
To: Moebius Stripper
Subject: Re: Application: mathematics and statistics instructor

I have checked with the department head, who confirms that you are correct, and that BC College did advertise a position for a limited-term, full-time mathematics and statistics instructor beginning this fall. However, the advertisement was later retracted as it was determined that BC College is not in need of a mathematics and statistics instructor.

We apologize for the confusion.

* * *

Date: Mon, May 2 2005 7:46:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Moebius Stripper
To: postings@uokanagan.ca
Subject: University of the Okanagan Math Faculty Search


I am writing to check the status of the application I sent on March 8, for the temporary, full-time position of mathematics faculty beginning September 1. Have these applications been screened yet? If not, when are interviews expected to take place? I ask because I will be out of the province for several weeks in the near future, and will not have regular access to phone or email.


Date: Mon, May 2 2005 7:46:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Employment Secretary
To: Moebius Stripper
Subject: Re: University of the Okanagan Math Faculty Search

I will be away from the office until May 16. Please send any concerns about employment to the appropriate department. Contact information for our faculty can be found at http://www.uokanagan.ca/resources/faculty/directory.html.


Date: Mon, May 2 2005 7:56:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Moebius Stripper
To: mathdeptchair@uokanagan.ca
Subject: Fwd: University of the Okanagan Math Faculty Search

Attached is an email I sent to the employment secretary, who is out of town this week and next. Could you please inform me on the status of this posting?


Date: Mon, May 2 2005 7:56:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: mathdeptchair@uokanagan.ca
To: Moebius Stripper
Subject: Re: Fwd: University of the Okanagan Math Faculty Search

I am away at a conference until May 9. Any queries about employment may be directed to the Employment Secretary at postings@uokanagan.ca.

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