I am mother to the bean children: Bean-girl, age seven, and her five-year old sister, the Legume. This is my space--both public and private--to vent, rant, muse, and reflect.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
On leaving science: the stories we tell
Summer. No structure to our days—the kids still in
pajamas at noon, screeching through the house, building elaborate structures of
cardboard boxes, pillows, stuffed animals and miscellaneous toys. Sun in my
eyes at 6 am, sun still in the sky when I put the kids to sleep at night. Eight
days ago I sent off a rough draft of the last first-authored academic science
paper I will ever write. Since then I’ve had a backyard picnic with my
youngest, taken the girls to see turtles in the wetlands area of a local park, and
gone strawberry picking with my family in a field laced with larkspur and
Walking away from science is easier than I thought.
Before I left my job, I went to the best “alternative
careers” symposium I’ve ever attended. The speaker line-up was smashing—the director
of science policy at the American Association for Cancer Research, a former
high level administrator at the Environmental Protection Agency, a patent
agent, a medical communications writer, representatives from biotech, a venture
capitalist, and professors at teaching-based, undergrad-focused colleges. The
speakers ranged from those fresh out of their post-docs and just transitioning
to the Big Bad World, to those who had spent 30+ years in their “alternative”
field. And never have I heard such presenters speak so personally, so honestly,
about their career struggles and transitions.
Many spoke honestly of feelings of shame and failure when
they left academia. They spoke of sleepless nights and wondering
oh-my-god-what-am-I-doing? The younger speakers talked about the steep odds
facing them in even getting that first “real” job after the postdoc. The
medical communications writer told us that she’d sent out 65 applications in a variety of fields during her last post-doc
year. She landed only two interviews. A professor at a teaching college told us
that he’d sent out 70 applications with
similar results. The lone tenure-track professor at Big Research U—the representative of the standard grad-school
ideal of success--also sent out about 60+ applications and landed only two interviews total.
The line between “success” and “failure” is so thin. 60+
applications and one job offer= Success!60+ applications and no offers? I have a friend who was in that exact
position. After two years of trying and countless applications, he landed
exactly one job interview just months before his funding was due to run out. He
aced the interview and is now celebrated by his peers as a success story. If that
one interview had gone differently, he would have considered himself (in his
own mind) as a failure.
The stories we tell ourselves can be paper-thin.
“Be intentional!” some of the younger speakers advised. “Be
deliberate!” They said that after the decision to leave the bench, they took
deliberate steps to achieve their goals and were continuing to purposefully
direct their careers, to move purposefully and not reactively. In contrast, the
two most senior speakers confessed that they had never had a plan at all. I just seized opportunities as they came
along, both said. Both spoke of just “jumping into the deep end,” of moving
(repeatedly) into new areas where they had little to no experience and then
just swimming for dear life. This willingness to jump led both speakers to high-level,
impressive positions (one is currently managing director of venture funds for a
very well-known, large pharmaceutical company). But even these senior speakers
admitted that not all risks had paid off, nor had all jobs been perfect. And the
most senior of them spoke, again and again, of the importance of family and
friends and a personal life—and that no career is worth more than the people in
I’m fascinated by the stories that people tell. There is
one story that I could tell about my own career path, and it goes like this: I went
to grad school, I got a Ph.D., I did a post-doc. That first post-doc failed, so
I left science for a while. I tried to come back. I did a second post-doc and failed
again. I am a loser.
There is a story I tell acquaintances who do not
understand academic science, and it goes like this: I worked at local Research
Institution for awhile, but in a three-year grant-funded contract position. The
grant came to an end, and there were no suitable permanent positions open. I
was sick of the grant-driven temporary contract lifestyle, so I just decided to
To friends I tell a combination of stories 1 and 2. I say
that I left because I was burned out, I was sick of the lifestyle, I saw no
viable, sustainable career in research for me. I say that I left, rather than
that I was forced out. But of course it was both, at the same time.
I don’t know the story I am telling now about my future. In
one version, I tell people that I will be starting a freelance medical
writing/editing business in the fall. I tell them about the online course in
medical writing I’m taking this August. In this version, I sell myself as the
soon-to-be successful freelance writer. By “successful” I mean successful by
the standards my parents hold dear: that I will make good money relative to the
hours that I work. And I don’t plan to work full-time. I don’t mean to be
always hustling for clients, but only to work enough to satisfy my hunger for
social validation, to feed my fragile self-esteem. To work enough to have
something interesting to do that makes use of my talents and education, and
brings in a bit of cash (Yes, I know how lucky I am that I don’t really need to
work; my spouse brings in a good paycheck). In this story I spend more time
with my family, and I also have time to pursue my interest in fiction writing.
I do like this story. I hope it comes true.
**More notes on the alternative careers symposium: The
oldest speaker was also the only one to emphasize the importance of blogging in
career networking! He suggested reading blogs in your area of career interest,
leaving comments on blogs and using them to network. . . and of starting your
own blog if there are no suitable blogs in your subject of career interest.
(yes, I was tickled by this).
**All the speakers emphasized the importance of
networking. The medical writer who sent out 65 applications? She landed her job through a personal connection. For almost
every speaker present, landing that first non-academic job depended upon