I think I'm with Miceli and Castelfranchi. Sometimes shame has more to do with how we think others might judge us, and our internalized conflict over that, than it does with how they actually judge us. I felt guilty about abandoning my students, especially other first-generation students, and my colleagues, including two people I'd helped mentor, when I resigned tenure. But I still struggle with shame as a writer who isn't really self-supporting and as a father who isn't living up to the provider role I was raised to emulate. I've mostly gotten over the guilt. But the shame lingers.
I was at a birthday party this weekend -- my son's classmate -- and I still struggle to tell my story to new acquaintances without lapsing into what feels like a story of failure or shame. Some of it is external. People naturally assume that if I taught at a private college in Iowa, then I must be teaching at Penn State. I probably need a better way of explaining why I don't (too easy to get into how exploitative adjuncting is and why I don't want to teach first-year composition). I have gotten better at saying simply that I'm a writer and trying to curb the impulse to explain (no one needs to know more than that, and if they're curious, they'll ask).
But it's hard to craft a narrative for self-worth when so much of that was grounded in academic identity. I try to think of myself foremost as a father and spouse. But that doesn't always work very well. I want to have the other thing that is "for me" -- and I want to be good at it. I'm not good at giving up ambition.
I haven't officially exited yet, but all the relatives and acquaintances are just assuming that I'll work at the local college when we move. It never occurs to them that's not how academia works. I've tried explaining it to them, and they just don't believe me. Part of it is that they think that academia works like the private world, e.g., job mobility, but obviously it doesn't.
Right -- and the fact that someone like Liz couldn't even make it happen is really saying something. I did hope for a bit of passion-driven adjuncting after our move. It was a reality check to discover that no one really wanted me to teach advanced subjects, like radio storytelling, creative writing, or medical humanities, but that what they really needed was first-year composition instructors. I think your idea of a clean break from academe is a good one. It's taken me a year and a half to get there, but I think I'm done trying to send out introduction emails to chairs and deans.
There's disagreement on what word to use in many fields, including mine, but the basic conceptual distinction is between whether the "source" of the shame is external ("shame" in philosophy) or internal ("guilt"). This distinction is especially important because both cases are what an individual experiences; do they experience the phenomena as internal or external?. As one's core dieas come from society and culture, the internal/external distinction is not simple either.
Regardless, the isuse in this context is that academics both feel shame (external) and guilt (internal) when they think of leaving the academy. Their identities are too closely tied to an external locus of control, of self- or identity-formation, such that when that locus becomes toxic ... they have few resources to cope ... which leads to almsot inevitable and profound trauma even with healthy coping strategies.
I am, btw, an expert in social ethics, especially identity formation. So ... I'm kind of like the doctor working on himself....
Part of my problem is that I started in software engineering and was a noted programmer and mathematician. But once you become an academic, especially in the liberal arts, the social stigma and employment stigma is overwhelming. So, I stayed in in academia in part because the lack of family resources or another line of employment. And mobility within academia is terrible.
That's very different from the people whose stories are about living the dream.
I think it would be helpful to broaden the local community's discussion of this to include "employment siloing" such that "leaving the dream" becomes economically hard to impossible. That's part of why so many fall into the adjunct trap.
This is so true. The success stories I see on social media are sometimes inspiring, but more often contribute to my sense of shame (or maybe guilt!?) because I feel I should have worked in a different field, figured out what was next before quitting, developed relevant skills . . .
Interesting post! This struck a thought for me. I feel no shame or guilt for leaving academia (2 weeks left!). But if I were a bit younger I might, because of exactly what you say - I idealized the strong, independent woman scientist that just kicks ass and has a great life and is in shape and is fashionable and gives a great talk and... and... and... It's not that those women don't exist - they do and they are miraculous. It's just that when I've had the great fortune of meeting them, the exterior I idealized inevitably came with drawbacks, compromise, etc. I've come to learn there is no such thing as ideal. That doesn't exist because there is no universal truth for everyone. I *could* be that powerhouse scientific woman, but for me it would mean (and has meant) concessions in ways that are no longer something I am willing to tolerate. Life changes. Academia doesn't. Or at least hasn't for me. Me leaving isn't my shame, it's academia's. There is no great reason women shouldn't be able to have a career, a family, and a life, but in academia I just flatly feel that is impossible. It's probably very difficult in many other fields, too, but (perhaps rosy glasses) not impossible.
For most scientists, I’d agree. But as an older basic plant biologist, I’ve painted myself into a corner, career-wise. Without experience working on crops or diseases, and with few contemporary bench skills, my area of expertise is not particularly desirable outside of academia.
I was given a simple generalization. Also, ageism itself is enough to box people out.
But I also didn't mean "are of expertise." I mean, how easy is it for you to get a job in any field? That is, how do your job skills transfer--and I mean more about an assessment of their appeal to employers?
The rhetorical question is about what society privileges, as reading and writing skills don't generally make a dent with interviewers, but if you start going on about statistical analysis, that can open doors. So, there's a differential in how easily a person can reinvent themselves given the various social stigma. We can apply some intersectionality here.
I mean, I cannot even count how many times a relative thought I made six figures, didn't work in the summer, and mostly sat around all day. And yet that attitude replicated itself when, for about a year, I actively tried to escape academia. I discovered that what I heard about the stigma completely matched up with my personal experience.
The one moment I most recall was when an interviewer, about a job as a technical writer/editor, asked me, "can you even talk to normal people?" I assure you that nothing in my diction should be off-putting--and I don't talk like I write here--and it was jarring given my background as a first-generation student. But that summed up my interviews.
"Secondly, what if majoritarians try so hard to get everyone to fold themselves up into the “right” shape because we (I include myself as a white cis straight person from an academic family) are ourselves so attached to those ideals and have folded ourselves up to fit? "
Yes.
Speaking for myself and a number of my graduate school colleagues, so much of the pain of marginalization and exclusion is that our "successful" peers and mentors deny what's been going on. Their very sense of identity requires that they pretend that we, the marginalized, don't exist. It becomes even more painful and grotesque when they proclaim their social justice work while simultaneously marginalizing us. Their whoel careers, their professional work, their everything ... depends on pretending we don't exist while still keeping up the facade of politeness.
I recently had a tearful heart-to-heart with a fellow first-generation student, who in his late 40s finally came to realize that "academia wasn't meant for people like us," as he realized that he spent decades of his life self-sacrificing for something that he was always told was an equal opportunity, but it wasn't.
I am sorry that this happened to you and to your students, and thank you for your honest comments here. I am thinking a lot about ways I’ve directly and indirectly contributed to this kind of forced origami.
I think I'm with Miceli and Castelfranchi. Sometimes shame has more to do with how we think others might judge us, and our internalized conflict over that, than it does with how they actually judge us. I felt guilty about abandoning my students, especially other first-generation students, and my colleagues, including two people I'd helped mentor, when I resigned tenure. But I still struggle with shame as a writer who isn't really self-supporting and as a father who isn't living up to the provider role I was raised to emulate. I've mostly gotten over the guilt. But the shame lingers.
I was at a birthday party this weekend -- my son's classmate -- and I still struggle to tell my story to new acquaintances without lapsing into what feels like a story of failure or shame. Some of it is external. People naturally assume that if I taught at a private college in Iowa, then I must be teaching at Penn State. I probably need a better way of explaining why I don't (too easy to get into how exploitative adjuncting is and why I don't want to teach first-year composition). I have gotten better at saying simply that I'm a writer and trying to curb the impulse to explain (no one needs to know more than that, and if they're curious, they'll ask).
But it's hard to craft a narrative for self-worth when so much of that was grounded in academic identity. I try to think of myself foremost as a father and spouse. But that doesn't always work very well. I want to have the other thing that is "for me" -- and I want to be good at it. I'm not good at giving up ambition.
Josh,
This is already happening to me.
I haven't officially exited yet, but all the relatives and acquaintances are just assuming that I'll work at the local college when we move. It never occurs to them that's not how academia works. I've tried explaining it to them, and they just don't believe me. Part of it is that they think that academia works like the private world, e.g., job mobility, but obviously it doesn't.
Right -- and the fact that someone like Liz couldn't even make it happen is really saying something. I did hope for a bit of passion-driven adjuncting after our move. It was a reality check to discover that no one really wanted me to teach advanced subjects, like radio storytelling, creative writing, or medical humanities, but that what they really needed was first-year composition instructors. I think your idea of a clean break from academe is a good one. It's taken me a year and a half to get there, but I think I'm done trying to send out introduction emails to chairs and deans.
I don't have high hopes for glamour or even goodness when I get out.
I'm banking on the fact that I'll have one thing I--or most--never have in academe. Job mobility.
Liz,
If someone congratulated me, in your circumstance, I'd be close to physical violence.
Me too. Someone recently congratulated me on “retiring” and I almost lost my mind.
Ugh. That is most certainly *not* what it is.
Some commentary on the guilt/shame disinction.
There's disagreement on what word to use in many fields, including mine, but the basic conceptual distinction is between whether the "source" of the shame is external ("shame" in philosophy) or internal ("guilt"). This distinction is especially important because both cases are what an individual experiences; do they experience the phenomena as internal or external?. As one's core dieas come from society and culture, the internal/external distinction is not simple either.
Regardless, the isuse in this context is that academics both feel shame (external) and guilt (internal) when they think of leaving the academy. Their identities are too closely tied to an external locus of control, of self- or identity-formation, such that when that locus becomes toxic ... they have few resources to cope ... which leads to almsot inevitable and profound trauma even with healthy coping strategies.
I am, btw, an expert in social ethics, especially identity formation. So ... I'm kind of like the doctor working on himself....
Speaking for myself...
Part of my problem is that I started in software engineering and was a noted programmer and mathematician. But once you become an academic, especially in the liberal arts, the social stigma and employment stigma is overwhelming. So, I stayed in in academia in part because the lack of family resources or another line of employment. And mobility within academia is terrible.
That's very different from the people whose stories are about living the dream.
I think it would be helpful to broaden the local community's discussion of this to include "employment siloing" such that "leaving the dream" becomes economically hard to impossible. That's part of why so many fall into the adjunct trap.
This is so true. The success stories I see on social media are sometimes inspiring, but more often contribute to my sense of shame (or maybe guilt!?) because I feel I should have worked in a different field, figured out what was next before quitting, developed relevant skills . . .
Interesting post! This struck a thought for me. I feel no shame or guilt for leaving academia (2 weeks left!). But if I were a bit younger I might, because of exactly what you say - I idealized the strong, independent woman scientist that just kicks ass and has a great life and is in shape and is fashionable and gives a great talk and... and... and... It's not that those women don't exist - they do and they are miraculous. It's just that when I've had the great fortune of meeting them, the exterior I idealized inevitably came with drawbacks, compromise, etc. I've come to learn there is no such thing as ideal. That doesn't exist because there is no universal truth for everyone. I *could* be that powerhouse scientific woman, but for me it would mean (and has meant) concessions in ways that are no longer something I am willing to tolerate. Life changes. Academia doesn't. Or at least hasn't for me. Me leaving isn't my shame, it's academia's. There is no great reason women shouldn't be able to have a career, a family, and a life, but in academia I just flatly feel that is impossible. It's probably very difficult in many other fields, too, but (perhaps rosy glasses) not impossible.
Distinction.
The leaving hits differently depending on your field.
A scientist has a vastly easier time transitioning to private work than a liberal arts professor, especially at fair pay rates.
For most scientists, I’d agree. But as an older basic plant biologist, I’ve painted myself into a corner, career-wise. Without experience working on crops or diseases, and with few contemporary bench skills, my area of expertise is not particularly desirable outside of academia.
Fair.
I was given a simple generalization. Also, ageism itself is enough to box people out.
But I also didn't mean "are of expertise." I mean, how easy is it for you to get a job in any field? That is, how do your job skills transfer--and I mean more about an assessment of their appeal to employers?
The rhetorical question is about what society privileges, as reading and writing skills don't generally make a dent with interviewers, but if you start going on about statistical analysis, that can open doors. So, there's a differential in how easily a person can reinvent themselves given the various social stigma. We can apply some intersectionality here.
I mean, I cannot even count how many times a relative thought I made six figures, didn't work in the summer, and mostly sat around all day. And yet that attitude replicated itself when, for about a year, I actively tried to escape academia. I discovered that what I heard about the stigma completely matched up with my personal experience.
The one moment I most recall was when an interviewer, about a job as a technical writer/editor, asked me, "can you even talk to normal people?" I assure you that nothing in my diction should be off-putting--and I don't talk like I write here--and it was jarring given my background as a first-generation student. But that summed up my interviews.
And a response to your last question,
"Secondly, what if majoritarians try so hard to get everyone to fold themselves up into the “right” shape because we (I include myself as a white cis straight person from an academic family) are ourselves so attached to those ideals and have folded ourselves up to fit? "
Yes.
Speaking for myself and a number of my graduate school colleagues, so much of the pain of marginalization and exclusion is that our "successful" peers and mentors deny what's been going on. Their very sense of identity requires that they pretend that we, the marginalized, don't exist. It becomes even more painful and grotesque when they proclaim their social justice work while simultaneously marginalizing us. Their whoel careers, their professional work, their everything ... depends on pretending we don't exist while still keeping up the facade of politeness.
I recently had a tearful heart-to-heart with a fellow first-generation student, who in his late 40s finally came to realize that "academia wasn't meant for people like us," as he realized that he spent decades of his life self-sacrificing for something that he was always told was an equal opportunity, but it wasn't.
I am sorry that this happened to you and to your students, and thank you for your honest comments here. I am thinking a lot about ways I’ve directly and indirectly contributed to this kind of forced origami.