I don’t know if it’s the development of my faith, getting married, or simply my growing up, but I find that I’m caring less and less about my scientific ‘career’. The idea of pushing back the boundaries of science seems just tedious now, rather than challenging and exciting. I am concerned for my PhD – at this rate I’ll be lucky if I survive my transfer (from MPhil to PhD) at the one-year-in mark.
The trouble is that while I enjoy the challenge and stimulation of science, I just don’t like the atmosphere in academia. I jumped the rat race to come back to uni and do what I love, only to find that I’ve inadvertently entered a different race altogether. Due to some recent soul-searching I’ve decided that I don’t want to do the whole post-doc thing and am happy to steer well clear of academia in favour of a role in the third sector somewhere.
During one of our essential tea breaks the other day I was discussing this decision with my lab buddy, who raised an interesting point: doing a PhD as a career stepping stone is a fairly new concept – previously you would do a doctorate as a route into a university career, whereas now there are an increasing number of people doing higher and higher degrees simply to prove themselves a better candidate in the job market. With so many BSc/BA graduates flooding the marketplace, how best to stand out? Do a master’s degree. How best to really stand out? Do a PhD.
This raises a number of problems for the ‘job-minded’ PhD student, as I am concerned that my supervisor may be trying to ‘toughen us up’ for a career in academia, and while hurling review papers and criticism at us will provide us with some very useful skills, they make day to day life quite trying at times. I am also concerned that I’ve entered into a workplace I do not have the correct skill set to survive in. Am I clever enough? Certainly. Can I manage my time? Absolutely. Do I grasp abstract concepts quickly? If I’m given the necessary background information.
But what I don’t have is the obsession with my work, the willingness to work evenings and weekends as a matter of course. And I really, really don’t understand scientific writing. I also don’t have the opportunity to exercise some of what I consider to be my stronger talents – communicating science to the public, supporting other people, negotiating, writing informational documents, working as a team. (N.B. I don’t know how much of this is specific to my lab, but then it’s the only one Ihttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif know, and the one that I attend every day.)
I read an article by Kathy Weston entitled “How not to succeed in academia” recently, which is what has focussed my concern over my perception on life:
“My obsession with my work declined as normal life seeped in: I got married, learned to ride horses and play the cello, looked after aging parents, and nixed all hope of redemption by having two children in my late 30s and realizing they were far more interesting than what I was doing at work”
Sadly, this is exactly how I’m feeling at the moment (save for the kids, having not reached that stage yet!). Having gone through a very, very trying period of my life (including family breakdown, caring for grandparents with rapidly deteriorating health, the break-up of a long term relationship, and finally relocation to re-start my career) I was forced to grow up, and eventually accept myself. And once I had rid myself of some insecurities, and actually began to enjoy life, I’m worried that I’ve discovered that life outside the lab is far more interesting that life inside.
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