From the monthly archives:

June 2009

norma_rae_unionLast week, I received a wonderful email from one of my readers–one who said he’d visited the Leaving Academia site many times in the middle of the night when overwhelmed with doubt. His email was so great that I asked his permission to run part of it here. Call it this week’s dose of inspiration (and a rejoinder to those who believe changing careers during a recession is a bad idea).

This happy academic ex-pat wrote to tell me that, earlier in the spring, he had quit his six-year long academic career when he was about a year away from earning his Ph.D. Like so many others, he wrote, he was ABD but found himself stalled after exams. He and his partner discussed how miserable academia was making him, and together, they decided he should quit. But right around the same time, he had also gotten involved in getting the graduate teaching assistants at his university organized and into a union. Once he decided to quit, he writes, he informed his committee:

“They were shocked that someone ‘like me’ would leave when I had, according to them, such a promising career ahead of me. They were worried I’d never find a job given the economy. (I was tempted to joke that being in grad school isn’t a job, but more like an insult; of course that isn’t true. The insult is the treatment and pay).

I told them that for six years I had felt like a failure, like none of my projects were coming to fruition, and critically, that my work and contributions were in no way valued by the department, my colleagues, or the university. And as for the job, it wouldn’t take much to replace the puny salary they were paying me [...]

Within four days in mid June, I was offered THREE union organizing jobs, including the dream job I thought I’d never land, in a place I’ve fantasized about living for ten years. I’m starting work soon, and can’t wait. I’ll be paid nearly five times what I’ve been making for the past six years, in addition to a generous benefits package for myself and my partner. I’m going to get to do work that is important, enjoyable, and challenging. My employers value my experience and potential to contribute to their organization. Wow, that was so easy!”

I wanted to run this man’s story because I thought it was such a great example of how much one’s bravery can pay off. It also points to the ways in which our “sideline” activities–in this case, union organizing–can become a full-time gig, even if it has little direct connection to your area of study. It also shows that, no matter how much of an academic whiz you are, academia still may not be the thing that satisfies and nurtures you. It says a lot about confronting those powerful feelings of failure, disenchantment and insecurity on the road to something better.  Of course, it also shows the importance of having a supportive partner who’s willing to demonstrate a lot of flexibility in the face of a career change and a move, and not everyone is in that situation. And, this former academic adds,

“Times are indeed really tough, and that is certainly an obstacle to quitting, but it is hardly the only one. Obviously for me, the biggest obstacle was within myself rather than out there in the world. But I do feel VERY fortunate to have had such good luck with the job search.

I think that is a testament to how the skills we learn in grad school
can help afterward — I was able to think on my feet and give good
interviews, strategically and practically compose an effective resume,
and say with confidence that I have the communication skills necessary for this new gig.”

In a few months, I’m going to follow up with this academic escapee to check in and see how post-academic life is faring for him.

In the meantime, readers, I’d love to hear strategies that you are using to shift into post-academic work. Are you jumping off from your sideline projects and interests? How much do you think luck plays a role in finding work? Are you doing anything in particular to create luck or opportunity for yourself?

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interesting_life by xkcd

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New York Public Library by victoriapeckhamI recently got an email from a reader named Hinne Hettema, asking me if I could comment on the challenges faced by former academics who continue to publish scholarly research after they leave. I told him that I knew little about this topic, having had no desire to do academic research once I’d quit. I knew there had been a recent WRK4US discussion on the topic, and even a call for papers for a book on the subject. But Hinne had clearly done a lot of thinking on the topic, though, so I invited him to write a guest post. Here are Hinne’s thoughtful insights–and let us hear your own!

Here’s a question. Suppose you manage to leave academia and find employment on the outside. But what to do with your research? In this post, I’ll try to outline that it is not necessary to leave research behind altogether, even though there are a number of issues to consider. If you find that the opportunity to do research and publish is what keeps you in academia (but there is little else keeping you there) you are not alone and should probably get out. Is there a way to avoid throwing the baby out with the bathwater?

I found myself in this situation about twelve years ago. The bright colors of that what attracted me to seek an academic career in the first place, the opportunity to apply my best thinking skills to do scientific research relatively autonomously, had faded into the grey realisation that I was getting paid (and rather badly at that) to work on someone else’s problems, in an unattractive environment, with few further career prospects. To put it bluntly, the autonomy and freedom of thought that I craved, and once hoped to find inside academia, was in reality hiding somewhere else.

So I left academia in 1997, after my second post-doc, and never really looked back. But I am trying, with more or less success, to stay active as a researcher. I have maintained a connection with my last university. It pretty much involves academic library access with borrowing privileges, email and a letterbox at the department.

This sort of setup brings up the ‘independent scholar’ question rather quickly, and in my experience there is a large, but undeserved, label attached to independent scholarship that urgently needs modification. Yes, there are indepdent scholars working on witchcraft and UFOs, independent scholars that put out amateurish work, and just plain cranks that call themselves independent scholars. There are two answers to that charge.

First, amateurism, crankiness and substandard work is not limited to independent scholars. For every independent scholar working on UFOs there is probably a ‘real’ academic doing exactly the same; for every cranky ‘independent scholar’ there exists, somewhere, a similarly cranky academic.

But a more interesting objection is that the fact that there are some bad independent scholars does not in turn mean that all independent scholars can be safely regarded as amateurish cranks.

I consider myself an ‘independent scholar’ precisely in the sense that I am entirely autonomous, and can work on the problems that interest me whenever and wherever I want. But I am beholden to normal standards of professionalism. I submit my papers to regular journals, have my work peer reviewed and also act as a reviewer for a journal now and then. In short, I am a researcher like all others, just one that’s not beholden to funding agencies, regular research assessment, annual job search angst, budget cuts, vacuous exercises in academic ‘excellence’ and other such distractions that just hoover up valuable research time. I am more than happy to leave all that to the professionals. They, after all, get paid to deal with that sort of crap.

On the other hand, this sort of independent scholarship also has a number of issues associated with it. I think it is important to map out what they are, and to solicit and suggest ways of overcoming these drawbacks.

The reason for this is simple. My hunch is that an increasing number of disciplines will in the future increasingly depend on independent scholars (in the sense of independent academics) for their continued vitality (Witness the fate of many German departments currently in the US). It should also be recognised that what I am hinting at here (professional scholars with a non-academic source of income) have been the norm rather than the exception throughout history.’ The model for the university we accept as ‘normal’ in an academic environment originated somewhere in the 1880s on the Continent, and died somewhere in the 1980s. It won’t be back for a while. The sooner we can make the transition that decouples serious scholarship from academic tenure, the better off we’ll all be.

So what do I think are the key issues?

Sustaining motivation is probably the most important issue, and what I find is that many of the crutches that one can use in traditional academia to overcome this are not available in that form to someone working ‘independently’. There is no pressure to publish, which is a bonus, but it can also be a drawback. Currently I have two specific commitments: I have a book to write and promised someone a chapter for a collection, but I’m talking more or less self-imposed deadlines here.

Not having any time or funds to attend conferences is another important one. To facilitate independent scholars, more conferences should be online, and this is a development that I watch with interest. I notice that it is the less established branches of my subject, where funding lines are uncertain and where no ingrained patterns and habits have yet taken hold, that are making the largest inroads in this arena.

Being fairly invisible professionally a is a third issue. In my view, a few significant changes are required at various scholarly organisations to accommodate researchers who are not full time academics. What is required, in my view, is a notion of professional proficiency that is not immediately linked to an academic career. As I said above, I suspect that this will become increasingly important for the health of many disciplines in the future, with more and more academic ‘leavers’ taking significant expertise with them, increasing teaching loads for the ’stayers’, and wholesale department closures becoming more commonplace.

That’s it for the issues. I’d really be interested in reading about other people’s experiences in this regard, or maybe contribute to a robust debate on how to best advance the cause of independent scholars.

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Colour Your Life by Capture QueenOne thing that’s been obvious to me since I started this project was how much the academics I’m in touch with having a longing to be relevant and useful in the world. So many of us have gone into higher education because we thought the world needed more great ideas, or because teaching was a way of creating social change, or because we ourselves wanted to understand the world’s problems better before trying to tackle them.

But when the realities of academic life sink in–that there is little time for activism when funding proposals need to be written, little time to engage students meaningfully when you’re limited to 50 minutes a week of dull curriculum–ambitions to change the world get thwarted. But that longing to make a social contribution doesn’t go away. It just gets buried.

For those who do dream of/think about/consider leaving academia, it’s often that call to be useful in the world that leads the way. Working in isolation on research papers that no one will read is the antithesis, for many, of making a social contribution. As a result, I hear from clients and blog readers who are looking for the right kind of work where they can make an impact (right now, actually, I’m working with two different U.S. clients who are applying for really cool sounding jobs that are precisely in the field of knowledge mobilization, even though that phrase isn’t explicitly used in the job ads).

Some people look to the government (local, provincial/state, federal) to do that kind of work. Others look to think tanks. Some try entrepreneurship. And there are gobs of grassroots nonprofits and highflying NGOs, too. (NB: If you’re Canadian and are interested in this kind of work, check out CharityVillage.com. If you’re American, try out Idealist.org. And if you’re not from North America, please let me know of any resources that serve as clearinghouses for jobs available in the non-profit sector).

Lately, I’ve been hearing more and more about two really interesting areas for people who want to have and make an impact. One is “social innovation” or “social entrepreneurship.” The other is “knowledge mobilization.” Here in Toronto, we have something called the Centre for Social Innovation, an incredible (and incredibly beautiful) shared workspace for over 180 different organizations, each of them committed to creating positive social change. We’re not talking about armchair activists, here–we’re talking about organizations like Bikes Without Borders, the Pembina Institute, and the David Suzuki Foundation. These are the people who put their money where their mouth is and make change happen. They are, in the parlance I am only now learning, change agents.

Social entrepreneurs, I have also learned, are entrepreneurs who are interested in makign a profit, sure–but doing so through social innovation. Their work lies not only in making money, but in creating value like trust, connections, community, capacity-building, and so forth. The first time I’d heard the phrase social entrepreneur was from someone I met at Congress who runs this company.

This brings me to this thing called knowledge mobilization. The more people I talk to about this, the more I learn that either you work in a sector where knowledge mobilization (or knowledge transfer, knowledge exchange, and apparently endless variations on the same) is a given, or you’ve never heard of this crazy thing. When I was at Congress, though, and heard knowledge mobilization defined as “making what we know ready for service or action to build value,” my ears pricked up. How appealing this would be, I thought, to so many of the academics I’m in touch with who have a longing to take their knowledge and research and make it meaningful and useful to the world.

Social innovation and knowledge mobilization are fields that need people who understand the ins and outs of research, but who are interested in applying it to the world. And that might be you. There is so much research that has already been done that could make a difference–but instead, it sits in journals, not being, well, mobilized. Maybe you are someone who could work with others to bring that research to life.

Now, if you’re getting excited about this as a possible career trajectory for yourself, that’s awesome. But I’m going to link to kind of a downer of an article about social entrepreneurship. The only reason why I’m doing that, though, is because although the piece complains that a lot of people are excluded from the “social entrepreneurship club” (and that includes people who don’t have M.B.A.s), the piece (and the comments section) includes a litany of organizations who do this kind of work. It could be a starting place for those who are interested in researching the people and places who have the money to create social change (and perhaps some organizations to avoid). And seriously, in my world, not having an M.B.A. means nothing. With the right networking, the right resume and an endless source of persistence, a Ph.D. can absolutely be leveraged where you’d assume an M.B.A. would be preferred. M’kay? The link to the piece is here.

Have you thought about the path of social innovation? What kinds of foundations or organizations have you researched that appeal to your social justice instincts? Would you ever consider social entrepreneurship for yourself?

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Taxi?! by KennymaticI’m not gonna lie–it’s been an exceptionally busy week here at the Leaving Academia HQ. I’ve been doing a lot of work with some really lovely clients this week, and that’s meant I haven’t had any time for blogging. The upshot, though, is that by working with such interesting people, I’m getting all kinds of ideas for blog posts (I’m formulating a Glamour magazine-like “do” and “don’t” list for non-academic job applications, for example). So when I get a chance to breathe, there will not only be a fresh podcast up (!), I’m going to have some new insights for you on tackling typical job application challenges.

In the meantime, I’m going to leave you with a nice visual image that someone said to me recently. This person has recently left his Ph.D. program (which made so much sense–he’s a successful entrepreneur, and his reasons for entering the Ph.D. program kinda didn’t make sense for him at this point in his life) and had been doing a lot of reflecting on the whole process. Leaving academia, he said to me, is kind of like being at a party with a whole bunch of academics. You’re having a good time, but then when you want to leave, you discover someone’s taken your coat and shoes.

I thought that was pretty apt. In my case, I told him, I still ended up bolting out the door and hailing the first taxi that was driving down the street. That was how I ended up defending my dissertation on a Friday and starting my first post-academic job the following Monday: it was only when I’d leapt into the taxi that I saw where it was heading…but that’s a post for another day!

What visual images have you had during your process of leaving (or figuring out whether you want to) academia?

PS: Oh, and! My first official Leaving Academia column is up today at Inside Higher Ed! It’s actually already appeared on this blog, but Krista Scott-Dixon said it should be required reading for grad students, so I figured I’d deliver it to a wider audience.

Ahem. Now back to our regularly scheduled post: What visual images have you had during your process of leaving (or figuring out whether you want to) academia?

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women - men by roensWell, this just goes to show that we really are connected. Yesterday, commenter RFYL noted that most of the people I’ve interviewed for my podcast are women, and a fifth of the fans of the Facebook page are women. I can also tell you that most of my clients are women and most of the people who send me “Yay!” or “Can you blog about this?” type of emails are from women.

As it happens, I was actually just discussing this fact with a friend of mine the night before RFYL left his/her comment. I’ve been aware, ever since I started this project, that I am in contact with far more women who are thinking of and who have left academia. I’ve been wanting to post about this for a long time, but the reason why I haven’t is because I don’t have any strong theories to explain this phenomenon. For someone who spent most of her time in university studying theories of gender, this is a real stumper.

On the most systemic level, you could look at the ways in which academia is hostile for women. There are overt instances of sexual harassment and sexual assault, of course. But as the book title suggests, women academics can and do feel the weight of a ton of feathers, teeny individual moments of exclusion, oppression, rejection, objectification, hostility and so on. Moreover, in Canada, more women are enrolled in undergrad programs than men, but by the time you look at enrollments for Ph.D. programs, there are fewer women than men overall (though of course, this varies wildly by degree program in much the ways you’d expect).

There are also particular pressures on women of colour in the academy (though I’ve read more data about women of colour and their completion rates in the U.S. than in Canada). There are particular pressures on feminists in the academy. And although I never experienced being a mom while in grad school, but I think we’ve all heard the dire news about the rates at which moms get tenure. Fact is, they generally don’t.

You might wonder how much my own biases skew my choice of podcast interviewees (since I run another website addressing women’s issues and can easily say that some of my best friends are women). I can’t tell you how much my sub- or unconscious plays a role here, but I can tell you there is no deliberate intention on my part to only speak with women. My interview subjects are gleaned from a variety of sources. Sometimes I just happen to stumble upon information about someone that I find intriguing (like Rebecca Steinitz). Sometimes it’s a friend of a friend (like Krista Scott-Dixon). Sometimes it’s a former colleague (like Michelle Lowry, who left her Ph.D. program to do a Master’s of Social Work instead). Sometimes it’s someone that someone has alerted me to (like Sharon Blady).

I have interviewed men–most recently, I interviewed a former colleague, Fred Ho, who is a union organizer here in Toronto. My interview before that was with Kenny Mostern, who penned the On Being Postacademic article I’ve got posted here. A while back, I interviewed Michael Anderson, another entrepreneur who helps entrepreneurs. I’ve also done off-the-record interviews with men who didn’t want their accounts to be public (one because he didn’t think much of his accomplishments; the other because he was still dealing with a lot of negative feelings from the whole Ph.D. experience).

Still, that’s comparatively few. Yet I don’t purposely seek out women–but it seems that women readers (commenters, clients, Facebook folks) do seek me out.

On a micro-level, there could be something about me being a woman that draws women to my work. Conversely, there could be something about me being a women that makes men uninterested (which is not to render you male readers invisible! I know you’re out there, ye who lurk and email me confidentially!).

And then there could be something in between, something about gender formation more generally that informs how men and women make decisions about their education and their careers. I mean, we do know that women systematically make choices about their careers that often leave them in pink-collar ghettos, or reliant on their (often male) spouse’s income.

There is also data to indicate that women are voracious users of online communities, though I think that data skews towards moms. But perhaps women more generally turn to the internet for community and for help than men do. Perhaps men who are making the decision to leave academia would be more likely to turn to their traditional (i.e. real-world) networks. I have no idea.

I honestly have no good theories (and for a former theorist, it kinda hurts to say that!) and very little evidence to explain why this is the case. But you KNOW that I would love to hear your ideas about why my work draws more women (which proves absolutely nothing about how frequently men and women leave academe).

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Connected by visulogikRegular readers know that I’ve launched a consultancy based on my work, and I’m getting a steady stream of clients who are mostly looking for a bit of extra help with converting CVs to résumés and doing the dreaded transferable skills analysis. I’m also working to get my ass into as many university departmental seminars, grad student association meetings and career centres as possible, once the fall rolls around (and if you’re interested in having me run a workshop on your campus, please do let me know and I’ll work with you to make it happen).

Those are two ways, on top of the blog and the podcast, that I’m going about proselytizing the Good News about life after academia. This work is extremely gratifying; the emails and comments I get each week from people thanking me for running this site just make me feel fantastic.

But I’ve long thought that I’d like to take this site from being a way for me to connect with other people to providing a way for people to connect with each other. The process of leaving academia can be intensely emotional, and, like academia itself, feels like something that you have to battle on your own. But I’ve been thinking of ways that I can help you (you potential leavers, in-the-midst-of leavers, and have-lefters) face that battle with a little less isolation.

The first thing that I’ve done is started a Facebook group. I’m Web 2.0 and all (and if muddling through Twitter isn’t proof of that, I don’t know what is), but I initially resisted doing this. But I thought I’d give it a try to see if a Facebook page would be an ideal location for conversations among Leaving Academia readers could take place.

I’m also wondering if anyone is interested in forming a post-academic job club. This isn’t something that I would be directly or actively involved in, but it is something that I can facilitate the formation of. I’ve never been in a job-hunting club but I can imagine they would have certain merits (at least, that’s what the Guardian says, and who am I to question the Guardian?).

I’m also thinking of installing forums, either here or on a membership site, but that kind of thing is pretty time-intensive, so that will come a little later on down the road.

But does any of this appeal? If you’re interested in the job club idea, leave a comment below or send me an email. Check out the Facebook group. And if you have other ideas for how you can imagine connecting with other (potential) leavers, do let me know.

A final thought about connecting. Yesterday, at Marci Alboher’s site, I was reading this post about creating your own personal team of career advisors, and this old post at her (former) New York Time column on creating a personal board of directors. I am a part of an accountability group that meets 1-2 times a month, and I can tell you that this kind of thing works wonders. The people in my accountability group help me figure out problems, set goals, suggest contacts and cheer on my victories. Although each of us in my accountability group are entrepreneurs, I actually wish I had had something like this when I was in grad school and first hitting the private sector. If you don’t have your own personal team of career advisors, consider assembling one; you don’t have to work in that silo’ed way anymore when you leave academia. And like they say, sharing is the new selfish!

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rebecca1I first heard of Rebecca Steinitz way back in 2006 when I was making the decision about whether or not to leave academia. The once-tenured professor had written an article for Inside Higher Ed about why she chose to leave academia that; it was a piece that, at the time, reassured me that my thoughts about getting out of the scholarship trade weren’t completely crazy. The piece is well worth reading if you’re someone who has ever wrestled with yourself over whether or not to ditch the ivory tower (and if you’re reading this blog, that probably means you). It was my pleasure, then, to phone Dr. Steinitz at her home in Boston and talk a little bit about her former life in academe, her choice to leave and the eminently satisfying work that she does now.

Click on the “play” triangle below to hear the podcast.

 

Some of the highlights include:

  • 1:30 – 2:15  Why she wrote her article for IHE–and the one thing she’d change.
  • 2:15 – 8:00  She was a successful academic, yet she had to face up to the aspects of the academic life she didn’t like–and discovered that she wasn’t unique in thinking about leaving.
  • 8:00 – 11:00 Academia creates abjection; while your non-academic friends are developing their lives, academics are continually in a subordinate position, depending on the approval of others, not feeling grownup, leading to an acute self-doubt.
  • 11:00 – 12:30  The hostile comments at her IHE article demonstrates how defensive people were about Rebecca speaking the truth about the lives of so many academics–and no, not the happy ones.
  • 12:30 – 14:45  Why getting tenure doesn’t always make you happy; how external measures of her success suggested that she stay in the profession.
  • 14:45 – 16:45  How well she’s “hacking it” in the real world as a writer, editor and educational consultant, and how this work emerges out of her former academic work
  • 16:45 – 20:45  How she transitioned into her post-academic career, including the 1.5 years she spent networking and job-hunting before she left her tenured post. “It’s work that I’m passionate about, it’s work that feels very meaningful to me, it’s work that uses my skills.”
  • 20:45 – 22:45  Networking, saying yes to opportunity and staying flexible have been the keys to her success. She left academia because she said to herself, “I don’t feel about my life the way I want to feel about my life.” Having  multifaceted career works for her. Luck plays a role.
  • 22:45 – 26:15  Her advice is to look at your reasons for wanting to leave: how much is it about you or your circumstances? Her other suggestion is to try to arrange for a substantive leave of absence: “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

Listen to the podcast here.

Apologies, listeners! The last 20 seconds of the podcast (you know, the part where I give my contact info and tell you the music is by Soft Copy) got cut off for some reason. Computer: 1. Me: 0.

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Physics Teacher by e=mc2It’s Monday! Last week’s aborted podcast is going to go up tomorrow (barring any more software smackdowns that SoundtrackPro throws my way). In the meantime, here is a li’l link roundup of goodness that made me think of you.

  • I came across the Swiss recruiter Stamford Consultants because of this article on a postdoc in science who got a job offer in government, academia and industry (the pharmaceutical industry, that is). The piece reads a bit like an apologia for big pharma, but I decided to give you guys the heads up about it because it is a nice snapshot of a case study of someone who used her academic skills in her first post-academic job. Plus there are more and more people with a science background coming to this site, and I want you to know I’ve got my eye out for you, too!
  • I felt torn about whether this piece at the Chronicle was highlighting just another way contract/adjunct faculty are exploited, or actually a great way for people to discover the skills they already have.
  • As reported in Inside Higher Ed, four American colleges have been censured by the American Association of University Professors for ridiculously exploiting some adjunct faculty. The individual case stories are awful. But it strikes me: do we have any mechanism like this in Canada? I really can’t picture Canadian universities being subject to a single overarching body in quite this way.
  • Piss Poor Prof, aka Burnt-Out Adjunct, has a piece at IHE on whether you can actually afford to be an adjunct teacher.

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Two Kinds of Kidneys by Thirteen of ClubsThere was a piece in the Chronicle last week by the pseudonymous Margaret Tennant that I found both illuminating and a bit of a bummer. Tennant is a Ph.D. candidate in sociology and has been writing accounts of her search for a tenure-track job. Spoiler alert: Margaret ends up with a 2-year post-doc, she reveals at the end of the article. If you’re feeling anxious about your own academic job search, you might not want to read her piece, as it might just whip up your own desparate feelings of worry. But I guess you could read it in a positive light: some people are still finding work in the academic job market!

The disturbing part, for me, came with this little ‘graph:

And that’s where things stood as I waited to hear something from my last, best hope for employment this year. While I waited, I began to think about my options. And by “think about my options,” I mean thoughts like: “Am I too old to sell my eggs?,” “How much cash can I get for participating in research studies on campus?,” and “Why am I having to consider how much money an exotic dancer makes?”

Seriously, Margaret? Okay, probably not. Half-serious, Margaret? Perhaps.

Truth be told, I remember back to my early days as a grad student, running through the income-generating options I felt were available to me, and they were exactly the same: selling my eggs, participating in research studies and sex work. Now, I never did any of things–or never had to.

I do understand the sense of fear, desperation and complete uselessness that Ph.D.s feel. That’s a huge part of the reason why I do the work that I do. Yet as illuminating at Margaret Tennant’s article was–all the tongue-in-check humour notwithstanding–I found it just a bit sad that non-academic careers did not even appear to be on her radar.

As Arnold Schwarzenegger used to say in the pre-Governator days: listen to me now and hear me later. The choice is not between the tenure track and selling your body for research, eggs, organs or sex, okay? YOU HAVE GOT OPTIONS. Trust me! I’ve talked to former academics who are now TV executives, writers, entrepreneurs, life coaches, researchers, editors, curators, headhunters, filmmakers, salespeople, conflict resolution workers, social workers, and on and on and on. For god’s sake, look at Monday’s post: David Duchovny is one of us! Brian Freaking May is one of us! Dr. Martin Luther King is one of us! Is it not time to dump this kind of narrow attitude towards what the hell kind of work a Ph.D. situates you for?

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