I got an email recently from a reader who pointed out that most of my podcast interviewees were people who could quite literally afford to step off the academic career path because they had each had a partner who could support them financially.
It’s true that I have interviewed a lot of academics who transitioned out of academia while having a partner (or, in some cases, a parent) who earned enough money to cover things until stable employment was secured. And it’s true that not everyone is in this situation. If you’re single, or if your partner is also an academic whose labour is cheap, you are not in a position to just up and quit without a plan. That’s it. Bottom line.
So, if you want to quit academia, I guess you need a plan, then.
But even if you want to stay in academia, you’re gonna need a plan, too; I bet that the number of people currently in your cohort at your institution vastly exceed the number of jobs advertised in your field in the entire country (US or Canada, you choose) this year.
Either way, grad students (and the post-docs, contract faculty and full-time faculty who dream of a different life) are currently in a situation where they (feel they) have to simultaneously work their butts off to gain their academic credentials (publishing, primarily) and create contingency plans for non-academic jobs. This is one of the many things that makes academic career-changers different from other career changers: the requirements of grooming yourself for two different streams of career change are quite separate, without a lot of overlap.
One thing academics do share with any other worker who is looking for a job is the basic fact that the more lead time you have to create a plan for your career change, the better (don’t hate me for stating the obvious). But the thing with academia is that there are so many stages where your exit from the profession is built right in to your role. If you’re a grad student, you’re going to graduate from your program at some point (or, depending on your situation, you’ll be shown the door). If you’re contract faculty, maybe you won’t get enough courses to teach. If you’re faculty, maybe you won’t get tenure. Those are all moments when you’re faced with an opportunity to stay in or get out. So your lead time for creating your plan may be limited, depending upon where on academia’s ladder of precarious employment you sit.
These are the realities. But the overarching philosophy of this blog has always been to illustrate that there is life after academia, even if that immediate stage after leaving is rocky and scary. Whether you choose to leave academia or are forced out, whether you have time to plan your transition or not, whether you have a partner to support you or unpaid bills stacked up on your desk, you are faced with two new research projects: ways to make money, and a path into a new career. Ideally, these two things will coincide, but for people who leave academia without a partner’s support, making money may have to come before the fab new career.
Dog-walking, house-cleaning, working for a parent and temping are some of the ways academics I’ve met have paid the bills while figuring out the next step. Taking jobs that only take advantage of one set of skills–like transcribing or taking notes for disabled students–are also other ways people I know have transitioned out of academe before settling into other careers. In my own case, I took a job as a closed captioning editor at a national broadcaster as a way of grooming my English skills, moving back into media/communications and earning a steady paycheque–even though the work took advantage of very few of my analytical skills (which was a very, very welcome relief at first).
I’m not advocating for a blind jump from the ivory tower and I’m not denying that finding a job and changing careers is as difficult as surviving grad school. What I have always maintained, through this blog, is the belief that there is life after academia. When you’re on the inside, the prospect of leaving seems, at times, both foolish and impossible. But the idea of not making a plan, in the current economic climate, seems equally foolish, and the execution is actually very, very possible.
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{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Thank you for this post as money is a topic that has been very much on my mind. I fall into the category of having to work, finish my dissertation, and make/action a career plan all at the same time. It is a challenge to keep all these plates spinning in the air, and not get a wee bit frazzled at times because I have less time to spend on my plan. As such, everything has to overlap and do double-duty. Research must feed work must feed (me) and career plan, which must feed research. It would be beneficial to hear from and about those who are addressing similar challenges while working their plan.
One of my “tricks” it to find part-time jobs that have some relation to yet-to-be-completely-defined-career-goals. I think this is an idea can be expanded upon.
Thanks for addressing this topic; it’s one I’ve thought about many times since I first started to consider leaving the professor track four years ago. I left this past summer without another source of income, after a long period of, not so much planning (my main plan was “reduce expenses in order to save as much money as possible), but extensive reflection, research, and psychological preparation. I was able to save several months of salary–living cheaply–but then it will run out. So there’s anxiety about money, but it’s mitigated by a couple of realizations:
As you note, financial instability and other kinds of insecurity are a feature of a transition stage that is temporary. A post-academic has so many skills and credentials, not to mention all that creativity let loose, that optimism for the post-transition period makes sense. For me, as for so many career changers, leaving the old career ultimately (after rest and recovery) freed up energy and presence of mind I didn’t even know I had because it was all buried under the weight of worry, planning, and old-career obligations. Since leaving, I get to focus all this energy, attention, skill, and creativity on creating the new life, so that I get to the other side of the financial no-man’s-land more quickly.
I left academia because it felt more and more like a square peg in a round hole. Leaving, while it’s brought increased financial insecurity, has also brought a strong sense of inner connectedness–wholeness, integrity, authenticity–whatever you want to call it, I get to be more myself now. This gain in mental, emotional, and spiritual security not only trumps the temporary financial insecurity, but gives me full possession of my own internal resources, which again means that I can get to a good “other side” more quickly.
That’s my story, anyway, and I’m stickin’ to it.
To state another obvious in money matters:
As less debt, and as much savings as possible. Anybody, regardless of position, having a partner or not, should aim to build an easily accessible liquid fund of money, invested not for risky growth but for inflation-protection, containing at least 6-12 months of income. It may sound impossible to many people, but it is doable, if you start early.
With this money, you can not only get through times of reduced or even nonexistent income, this money is also very handy for financing all other aspects of the post-academic career search: Travel expenses, entrance fees to industry fairs, paper&postage, and numerous other expenditures you will face.
And when your financial situation starts to get better, the first thing will not be to go for the long postponed shopping. It will be to refill your money fund. You will buy one of the most imaginable luxuries: A little bit of financial independence.
You are perfectrly right Sabine. when one wants to leave academia, one needs a plan. A good plan. And it takes time to think and build this plan.
I am a postdoctoral fellow. An unhappy one. After my PhD, I tried to leave academia. But I wasn’t successful. I have to say that I was totally unprepared at that time to succeed. I know that now. After 6 months without any success, I decided to start looking for a postdoc. I had to find a job, you know to support my family, and I thought that I will have no problem finding a postdoc because, research is what I did and what I was qualified for. I actually thought that’s all I was qualified for… It turned out that I did find a position quite easily, even got several offers. All of that ended up convincing me that I was just good as an academic and that nothing else would work for me. I was probably closer to think that no one will actually want my skills outside academia. I know now that I was probably wrong, but you have to admit that my experience kind of supported my conviction.
Anyway, a year and a half later, I am facing the same doubts, the same dissatisfaction, the same feeling of being used as a cheap brain, the same will to give up everything and quit tomorrow, and the same fear to jump. So this time, I am taking action. I bought “What color is your parachute” and started to read all kinds of useful information on several king of media. That include of course http://www.leavingacademia.com. The goal: make a PLAN.
To make a good one, I need time. So I chose to remain a postdoc for an additional year or so, take my time and think, think hard. With responsibilities, like family, and no partner able to fully help me financially, I can’t just quit and see. By remaining a postdoc, I chose stability. But now that I am negociating my contract renewal with my boss, I realize that I will have to face the same disapointment one more year. That seems like an eternity to me ! This is probably the price I have to pay to finally find a career that satisfies me.
A plan! Darn it. I knew I forgot something. But after fifteen years of academia I left a tenured position without one of those. Fortunately, I did not have a spouse or family to worry about–but neither do I have one to support me. Although financially it was not a good time to make the move, I knew that it was time to go (actually, it was probably time to go a while ago). For me the decision to leave was not so much the outcome of a rational decision process but the result of realizing that my soul was dying and that I had to get out if I was going to save it (and a fear that it may already be too late). My situation was more in line with Kelly’s in that the decision was not so much the result of planning but of reflection and psychological preparation. And I don’t have a plan anymore than someone who is drowning has a plan to breathe oxygen.
So although I have nothing against a plan, I would point out the wisdom of the claim that remimds us there is no better way to make God laugh than to have one. Instead I would argue that there is the path of listening to your head and the path of listenting to your heart, and yes, in the ideal world we would combine them: listen to our heart and then plan with your head. But this isn’t the ideal world and sometimes we make decisions under less than ideal circumstances. So I’m not knocking a plan. But I also think that sometimes and in some situations leaving without a plan–taking a leap into the unknown and trusting the universe–can be the right thing to do–at least that’s what it seems I’ve done. I’ll let you know how it works out.
Thanks for writing this post. I really enjoyed reading it. It made the future prospect of leaving academia seem more possible by bringing the discussion into the world that I’m more familiar with.
I’m working as a postdoc and can’t think of a real plan, other than to try to save as much as I can – which is about a third of my income, so I’ll have about six months to live before I run out I guess (after you take away the costs of moving home). Thinking about the future just makes me miserable, and if I do it too much I find myself crying at odd times. I’m so _scared!_
I really don’t know what else I can do. I hope my mind clears up when I leave, or close to the end of my contract (there’s a bit less than a year to go) like Kelly says. I guess people survive out there, right?
I’m so sick of feeling inadequate all the time, I can’t even imagine going for a job that requires skills or talent, because I think I’d worry all the time about not having enough of either.
Thanks, everyone, for your fabulous comments and for expanding on this discussion.
Debbie: I think it’s great that you’re trying to figure out a way to get things to overlap for you (research, career planning, etc.). I was in the same situation (trying to finish my diss while looking for income-earning options out of the academic world) and I know that it is very, very difficult. Most post-academics I’ve met (the happy ones, at least) landed where they are through a combination of planning and serendipity. So I think that your approach of being both strategic and open to possibilities is fabulous.
Kelly: Thanks so much for your story. I think it’s great for others to read about the people who were brave enough to just up and quit because you knew, deep down, that what you were doing with your life just simply didn’t feel right any more. Yes, you were in a financial situation where you could save up, and again, not everyone is in that situation. But I think your more important point–about the energy that was freed up upon leaving–is really, really critical. I’m so glad others will be able to read that. Making that leap without a plan is incredibly brave but it really can be one of the best decisions of your life. It helps that you do know that you have skills to offer; not every scholar feels that way, unfortunately.
Steffen, thanks for your thoughts. The thing that came to mind when I read your comment is how hard it is to be financially prudent when you *do* come in to a little bit of money, especially if you’ve been broke for a really long time. Still, I’m going to be a bit audacious here and say that I do think that some grad students and faculty have more money than they often claim to. After all, I know grad students who’ve bought property.
Matthew, thanks so much for leaving this comment. My heart really goes out to you. You have a tremendous responsibility of supporting your family on a post-doc’s salary, plus the burden of figuring out a career change while working in a job that does not make you happy. And the experience of quitting and then having to go back for financial reasons probably was pretty demoralizing. But in a way, it’s also kind of reassuring: you can make the leap from academia, but also use academia as a “Plan B.” I am so happy for you that you’ve committed to making this year your year of planning your escape. What you’re doing is really brave, and I applaud you. And let me assure you: you DO have lots of skills and experience that are very employable outside of academia. Please keep us updated.
Peter, you are also one of the brave ones who’ve commented here. And I am in complete agreement with you–life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans, said some old guy with goofy glasses. It’s also true that plan-making can be an alibi for actually taking action. People do leave academia without a plan if they can financially afford to do so, and you know what? It always seems to work out. Funny how listening to your heart works like that!
Lucy, your comment really, really resonated with me and how I felt when I first left. Oh, the tears! Oh, the fears! Oh, the feelings of inadequacy! Gaaaah! One of the strangest things you’ll encounter when you enter non-academic work is the feeling of actually being valued for what you contribute. It’s a strange kind of culture shock. Lucy, you have so many wonderful experiences ahead of you, including the fabulous feeling of showing up to work and feeling skilled and competent. Believe me, those skills are there. How do you manage to get your writing, research and teaching done? Your mad skillz, of course! You are in a difficult period of feeling incompetent, so I would suggest taking time not just to dream of different careers and read all the right manuals, but to start taking stock of all the things you are damn good at. It is an ego boost, and will help further down the road with your job search.
Thanks to everyone. I am on a real emotional roller-coaster. I don’t even know whether my feelings are genuine or merely responses to what I think I should be feeling regarding an academic career.
Either way, I appreciate the company. I was wrestling with my melancholy/depression/whatever you want to call it, but reading these posts gave me impetus to get out of bed, shower and do the best with what remains of the day. Thank you.