A couple of follow-up items to that last “how did I get here” post:
- At Confessions of a Science Librarian, John Dupuis shares the story of his transformation from software developer to science librarian. I love stories like this, and I kind of wish more of them had been around when I was trying to figure out what to be when I grew up.
- In the comments, to my earlier post, Abi writes:
Given the oft-repeated assertion that philosophy and the job market occupy parallel universes, did you have any worries at all when you started out (or, while doing your second Ph.D.)?
Did I have any worries?
This was where the stiff drink before calling my parents to tell them I was going to be a philosopher (rather than a chemist) came into play. It wasn’t that I needed their permission — grad school wasn’t on their nickel but mine (and the taxpayer’s). But you just know your parents are going to think, “How, at the end of this, is our adult child going to be able to find a job and support herself? She just doesn’t have the disposition to be a successful cab driver …” Seriously. My brother — while on the verge of entering a graduate program in classics, I should add — saw the copy of Jobs For Philosophers on my coffee table and fell over laughing at the very idea.
But here’s the thing: I discovered shortly into my graduate program in chemistry that (at that point) there were something like 30% too many people with chemistry Ph.D.s for the supply of jobs in the field. In other words, getting a job as a chemist was not trivially easy, either. And, given the large demand for chemistry grad students (to TA for required pre-med chemistry classes), there was no sign that the situation was going to change any time soon.
Philosophy departments, at least, seemed to be dumping fewer new Ph.D.s on the market in any given year. My entering class in my chemistry grad program had more than 50 people in it. In my philosophy program, my entering class (which was described as a large one) has seven of us. And, while many in my chemistry program had, as undergraduates, been told that there was a “critical shortage” of Ph.D. chemists (lies!), no one in my philosophy program had been suckered in with stories about critical shortages of philosophers. We all kind of expected finding academic jobs would be challenging. Many of us had fantasy alternate careers in case the philosophy thing didn’t work out. (A lot of those revolved around being chefs — the people with the “chef” back-up plans were good people from whom to get dinner invitations.)
So yeah, I kind of knew that pursuing philosophy, while it might help me grapple with the questions that kept me up at night, might not help me pay the bills. I took a gamble by following happiness rather than a more economically safe path. And I got really lucky.
I love reading your posts about this. I have one more year left in my PhD program and am really trying to figure out what to do after it. Your stories, as well as others I have read, show that I don’t have to always go the traditional route. I can do something totally different.
I know one-liners are rude, but here goes:
“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.”
(digging out primary findings in the laboratory ditches).
Isn’t anyone a Kennedy Democrat anymore–
“Ask not what your job can do for you, ask what you can do for your job.”
As always Polly Anna
[Your one-liners are welcome here!]
In my recent bit of self education about ‘the other side’ I was reading your blog and it struck me, what academia (and especially the scientific community) needs is some good PR (and too, I think, the more progressive of the theological community). It seems in both our realms, the lowest-common denominators are steering the ‘questions’ and leaving all of ‘us’ on the defense, or perceived to be on the defense.
Wow! I get to have my comment featured in a separate post. I’m honored!
And, thanks for the detailed response.
Thanks for your posts on this topic. I’m coming in a few days late, but I’d be interested in hearing other people’s stories of balancing love of a subject versus the day to day realities of practicing it.
For example: My career path was astronomy to physics to mathematics. Astronomy/astrophysics is my first and dearest love. But a beautiful end result in astronomy – say, distributions of early galaxies – is often the product of a long and painful process of advanced statistics and coding, lots and lots of coding. It seems to me to find joy as an astronomer (at least of the type I wanted to be), one must find joy in these day to day tasks.
Theoretical physics has a different phenomenon that made me uncomfortable: a strong emphasis on publishing quickly on the latest thing.
In mathematics, I get more freedom to go my own way, more of an opportunity to look at the big picture (at least as I define big), and at least some chance to look at physics and astronomy problems. This doesn’t stop me from looking longingly at some of the astronomy and physics literature though…