CU #2: Academic Fairytales

Conscious uncoupling from the ivory tower, Part 2

Note: this is Part 2 of a series of essays using the book “Conscious Uncoupling: 5 Steps to a Happily Even After” to stimulate conversation about academic careers. Part 1 can be found here.

I have been finding it helpful to think of leaving academia as if I were ending a romantic relationship. Last summer, in a conversation with Colleen Flaherty, I was already using this kind of language to describe my decision:

Ultimately, Haswell said, “It became clear that the institution did not love me, and I think I just fell out of love with it.”

As I mentioned last week, there are some caveats to thinking about “getting a divorce from academia”. (See the Discussion Section at the end of this post for more). But in general, it’s been a helpful framing as I seek to understand the personal and cultural patterns that influenced my experience as a faculty member, and continue to influence my experience of quitting.

Uncoupling is a process of redefining the self

Sociologist Diane Vaughan, in the book Uncoupling: Turning Points in Intimate Relationships, defines “uncoupling” as the process whereby a divorcing couple redefines their individual identities as separate from their couple identities. In this formulation, divorce—the personal experience of it, not the legal one—is not a single event, but a process that can take months or years to complete. Furthermore, Vaughan argues that, to be successful, this process of redefining the self must place at several levels: “in the private thoughts of the individual, between partners, and in the larger social context in which the relationship exists'.

We share many collective story about romantic love

What are these “larger social contexts”? Katherine Woodward Thomas, the author of Conscious Uncoupling, gets right to this point in the first section of her book, entitled “shame, blame and the failure of love”.

“We have a collective story about how romantic love is supposed to work, and it’s a pretty straightforward one. It goes something like this: If it lasts, then it’s real. If it doesn’t, then it wasn’t.” —Katherine Woodward Thomas

Finding your soulmate, your “one true love”, experiencing love at first sight, ‘til death do you part. These platitudes about romantic love sound silly, but they still wield so much power. Despite abundant evidence to the contrary, it can be hard not to judge your own relationship by these usually unattainable fairytale standards. And, as Thomas points out, the discrepancy between how we think our lives are “supposed” to go and how they really go can be a major source of pain during divorce. We expect love to last forever, and then feel like a failure if it doesn’t.

We perpetuate similar idealized visions of academic life

We devoted an entire season of my podcast (The Taproot, S3) to “busting” the myths that mentoring is a one-way street, statistics reveal the truth, science is a meritocracy, young scientists should STFU until after tenure, basic plant biology isn’t interesting to the general public, and competition is an unavoidable part of scientific research. This was one of my favorite seasons; check it out on your favorite podcast player or play episodes on the web here.

I have loved dismantling these fairytales, but truthfully, I also have loved living inside them. I still remember my first few months as an assistant professor, walking across campus under golden ginkgo trees, dodging students bustling to and fro, feeling like a character in the movie of my life. My first year on the tenure track was one of the happiest times of my life so far, I suspect in part because I was living up to my romantic expectations of academia. It was reassuring to feel like I was walking the right path while I was learning the ropes of a new role. So, I won’t pretend that these myths aren’t inspiring. But they can also be damaging, limiting, and serve to consolidate and preserve power.

Three romantic stories we tell ourselves about academic lives

There are plenty of idealized stories about what looks like to be a dedicated and successful academic. Three in particular jumped out at me as I read through the first chapter of Conscious Uncoupling: seeing our work as our destiny, valorizing certainty, and celebrating longevity.

1. Love at first sight

The idea of love at first sight is similar to the stories people often tell about how they got into science.

I’ve always loved to tell the story of how I discovered science as a high school student, and the moment when I went through a magical transformation from “I’m not smart” to “I love science and I’m going to be a professor”. Maybe I’ll write more about this another time—I did discuss it briefly in my recent conversation with Josh Doležal at the fantastic Recovering Academic—but more and more I fear that this “scientific origin story” has been partially created just by the process of telling it. I also worry that it is actually doing harm, by lifting up an idealized view of academic identity. There’s no reason why a long and drawn out decision to go to graduate school should be any less “right” than a sudden realization.

2. “I just knew”

Which brings us to another example of a myth about academia, that you should be certain and not have any doubts.

Back when I was applying and interviewing for faculty positions, I learned that one of my colleagues had applied for both academic and industry positions. At the time, I was kind of shocked. If you were even willing to consider industry, how could you be serious about academia? Now of course, that sounds completely stupid, but I was living inside the fairytale where certainty and dedication themselves were markers of success.

Echoing the quote above from Conscious Uncoupling: If you’re sure, it’s the right path. If you doubt, it’s not.

3. ‘Til death do us part

Many of you will be familiar with the trope of an old male professor working in his lab until he dies, test tube in hand, just days away from a brilliant breakthrough. The likelihood that an oldster would know how to perform single cell sequencing notwithstanding, it’s an attractive dream—to be so consumed with love and passion for your subject, so driven to discovery that you simply could not imagine retiring.

But valorizing such deep dedication has its shadow side:

“Don’t celebrate . . . [longevity] until you understand what that relationship has done to their souls.” —Katherine Woodward Thomas

What do we give up when we are so committed to our academic pursuits? And what does the world lose when academics who are deep in the academic fairytale resist turning to problems outside the ivory tower?

To be frank, I gave up a lot as I strove to graduate, develop a research program, find a faculty position, get tenure and succeed in mid-career. I ignored my husband, my kid, my friends, my parents, my health, and I failed to develop a sense of purpose other than career advancement and pleasing as many people at work as I could.

And then, I woke up, as if from a magical spell. I texted to a friend after sharing the news that I was quitting, ”I was waking up in the middle of the night in an absolute panic that I’m spending my days doing meaningless work. And that is the worst feeling ever, especially if you are sacrificing things you KNOW matter to do things that you know in your heart don’t.”

We feel insecurity and shame when our reality does not meet these expectations/myths.

In next week’s post, we’ll explore how failing to match up to our romantic academic ideals can create shame, embarrassment, and disappointment. Until then, check out the Discussion Section below!

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Discussion Section

A few disclaimers about the analogy I’m using in these essays (being a professor = having a relationship with academia).

1) As I mentioned in last week’s newsletter, this construct falls apart under some conditions. It is a one-way relationship; our departments, our colleges, our fields, our institutions can not love us. That being said, KWH points out that “it only takes one to consciously uncouple”. And in a way, it’s a relief to know that you don’t need to worry about being respectful to the institution—it is incapable of having its feelings hurt.

2) Also, I want to be clear that I do not (not by a LONG shot) believe that all the problems with academia are personal and can be solved at that level. Most problems are cultural, societal, and systemic. But I believe that we can work on ourselves and the system at the same time. I do hope to get to systemic issues soon here on Unprofessoring.

3) I really do wonder how much of my wholehearted buy-in into these myths is a product of my generation/training/personality/privilege. I am hoping that others have been better able to see reality. Either way, I want to hear all about it in the comments!

4) It’s important to acknowledge that I’m discussing all of this from the point of someone who walked away from academia. Experiences will be different for anyone who was denied tenure, or wasn’t able to secure a faculty position in the first place. If this is you—was the myth-busting extra hard? Or do you think it was maybe easier?

Questions for reflection and discussion

You are welcome to mull these over on your own, but I’d love it if you’d share your answers to these questions (or any other thoughts):

• How is thinking about your job as a relationship with academia helpful/not helpful?

• What are examples of myths or expectations that you had that turned out to be just that—myths?