A reader drew my attention today to this article at Science Magazine on the freedom to choose to be the kind of academic you want to be. Here's an excerpt:

A postdoc friend recently called me to discuss his career options. He didn’t want to run his own lab, he said. Instead, he wanted to become a research scientist, mainly working at the bench— like me. I sensed that his mind was already made up, but he needed validation about pursuing a path that is not generally thought of as a professional success. Our conversation got me thinking about my own decision to become a research scientist—and about other career choices I made that went against the norm.

[Around the time I was wrapping up my PhD], I took a course on model organisms and fell in love with the tiny roundworm C. elegans. Their simplicity and short life cycle were a good match for my impatience: A daily feeling of discovery helps calm my existential angst. But the worm wouldn’t take me high on the scientific ladder, my colleagues told me. I was advised to go to a mouse lab and do more hardcore science. I valued the input, but I couldn’t discount my own feelings. So, somewhat insecure in my decision, I followed my intuition and spent the next 8 years happily probing these humble creatures.

As the years went by, I knew that I needed to move on, which typically would mean opening my own lab. But I found myself doing anything possible to delay this transition. My gut feeling was that I wouldn’t be happy as a principal investigator (PI) supervising other people’s experiments…My decision again disappointed my scientific advisers and even some of my friends…

[However] My experiences over the next 5 years reinforced my decision not to pursue PI positions. I realized that I like being the person who not only thinks of scientific questions, but also performs the experiments. I don’t want to miss the eureka moments at the lab bench, even if the discovery is as insignificant as a new transgenic worm.

… When there is a mismatch between what society considers successful and our own definitions of success, we need to hold fast to our beliefs and follow our own road to personal satisfaction.

This article indeed resonated with me. Sam Duncan and others have often reminded me that there is a great deal of pressure–both self-imposed and disciplinary–to define professional academic success in a particular way: in terms of being an influential researcher at an R1 school. However, as I recently explained, one of the real joys I've experienced working at a teaching school is (tenure and promotion issues aside) the freedom to self-define what it is to lead a successful and satisfying career. One needn't be a leading figure at an R1 to find great satisfaction in one's research, and indeed, one needn't define success in terms of research at all: one can seek and satisfaction in teaching, mentoring students, and so on and so forth. 

It would, I think, be nice if this attitude became more common in graduate programs, as I have heard a number of people (Sam and other friends) say their grad program faculty are disparaging of teaching jobs and disappointed by graduates who get them, which I think is a terrible message to send. But, in the meantime, I will say this: you can indeed self-define the kind of philosopher you want to be, and it can be a very liberating thing!

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