This is part 10 in a series of essays using the book “Conscious Uncoupling: 5 Steps to a Happily Even After” by Katherine Woodward Thomas to stimulate conversation about leaving academic careers.
I am no longer a professor.
Since deciding to leave my faculty position last year and moving away from Missouri, I’ve been working part time, as students graduate and postdocs move on, getting papers submitted and grant reports written. I’ve been opening university email daily, fielding requests for reagents and invitations to review papers. The work (and with it the sense of connection to a community), has slowed down more and more. It had come to an (almost) standstill at the end of August, when my appointment officially ended.
I’ve been either employed by or a trainee of an educational institution since 1994, (when I spent half a year backpacking through the Mediterranean before starting graduate school). I wasn’t sure what to expect when I woke up the morning of September 1st. Would I feel the shackles coming off, or a sense of closure, or some version of “good riddance!”? I did feel those things— but also fear and confusion and sadness.
I chose to let the sadness take over for a bit. I took myself and my journal out to breakfast at Gigi’s. I watched an obscene amount of TV (Sanditon season 1, if you must know). I impulse-bought a wool sweater I can’t really afford. A friend encouraged me to take some time that day to let things sink in, and I’m grateful for her counsel. It felt right to pause just a bit to acknowledge my formal separation from academia.
Conscious uncoupling rituals
This experience was similar to (though decidedly less picturesque than) what is recommended in the final, and most ridiculously named step of the Conscious Uncoupling program, “step 5: create your happily-even-after-life”. There are several parts to this step, but the final one is participating in a ritual to mark the end of the relationship. As Katherine Woodward Thomas writes,
“ . . . why not honor the end of our most important unions with a ceremony . . . doing so symbolizes the end of an era and paves the way for healthy closure to occur. . . ”— KWT, Conscious Uncoupling
KWT lists a number of ways to create a ritual of this type. In one astonishing example, two performance artists traveled from opposite ends of the Great Wall of China to “meet in the middle, embrace, and go their separate ways”. Other divorcing couples profiled in the chapter walk together to the middle of a labyrinth, then exit individually; take their rings off together; or have a dinner party with friends and family. She encourages the participation of both divorcing partners to create a sense of completion.
Colleagues know how to say goodbye
My academic colleagues gave me the gift of closure on several occasions. Last fall, the directors of our graduate program invited me to give a keynote address at our annual graduate program retreat. It was a wonderful chance to acknowledge my lab members, to revisit the great science we did during my 15 years there, and to celebrate the community of plant biologists in St. Louis. Just before we moved away, departmental friends put together a going-away party, where my faculty colleagues decorated cupcakes with smily or sad faces (depending on whether they were happy or sad to see me go!) and recorded their well wishes for me and my family on a big sheet of paper on the wall. I will never forget either of these experiences and am immensely grateful for the lovely people who organized them. They gave me and those I was leaving a chance to say goodbye in meaningful ways.
Academia struggles with faculty transitions
But neither of the larger institutions I was part of—the university and a federally funded research center—acknowledged my departure. Not that I expected them to; as Tressie McMillan Cottom has so clearly and repeatedly said (and as I’ve mentioned before), an institution can’t actually love you. I loved academia but it isn’t capable of loving me. Like a toxic ex-spouse, it will never join me in a cathartic goodbye ceremony. I can honor what it brought me, but it isn’t capable of reciprocating.
Yet, I remain puzzled by the poor job that academia does at recognizing faculty transitions. At least in my experience—perhaps it’s different at other places—the departure of a faculty member for another institution is treated more like an act of treason than a normal part of a successful career. A number of colleagues left my department for other institutions, including two senior plant biologists I’d been excited to work with who left just a year or two after I arrived. I was sad for myself, happy for them—but that is not how it was viewed by others at the institution. My own experience with an outside offer was more complicated ( and another story for another time), but I was given the clear impression that it is disloyal and self-serving to consider a position at another university if you are in a tenure track position.
I really can not understand this. To my mind, it’s a sign of a healthy department or institution when people grow into new positions and new roles. There are only so many endowed chairs or leadership positions available at a single institution, so sometimes opportunities can only be found elsewhere. And, of course, there are plenty of reasons outside career advancement to move institutions, like local politics and aging parents.
My case, I realize, is a bit different. My departure wasn’t the sign of a healthy institution, because I was leaving entirely rather than progressing in my career—and the institution itself was part of the reason for this. I can appreciate the challenge this presented to leadership. But—imagine an email recognizing my contributions and expressing that I would be missed! That would have been a welcome bookend to my professorship.
I’m not done uncoupling
So, I’m left with some sadness and, I’ll admit, some bitterness. While a closing ritual is the last step in Conscious Uncoupling, it’s clear that I still have attachments to academia. I would have left earlier if there weren’t some really wonderful things about it—and I’m not done grieving the loss of those things. I wouldn’t have left at all if there weren’t some truly terrible things—and I’m not done being angry about those things.
There’s more to explore, more to uncouple, more to unprofessor. I hope you’ll stick around for the next phase, whatever it may bring. I’m grateful for your readership, your comments, your support, and your subscriptions!
Discussion Section
How are other institutions or workplaces at acknowledging and celebrating departures?
Does or did your institution do a good job at recognizing faculty departures?
Why are faculty expected to be loyal, while trainees are not? Is this simply expected reciprocity for tenure? Linked to large start-up costs? The added burden that the departure of a faculty member puts on colleagues, at least temporarily?
I had to retire early from academe and was very disappointed by the lack of closure. I had health issues and thought the chair might call or email but staff were charged with all communications. I once read an article by someone whose research was actually the process of retirement. He remarked he was surprised, upon his own retirement, at the importance of the whole gold watch thing. I left academe physically but it took many more years to let go of it psychologically.
We love institutions, they don't love us back. Most important words for us all. Some of the people there can love us back, but that's up to them. We're both gone from WashU, and there are plenty of people there who DID love both of us back. But the institution is just real estate and a bank account (in WashU's case, a very large one). But as someone there who did love you - you did a great job for WashU, Liz!!!!