Who would have thought that the entirety of my professional aspirations could be summarized by a single dry-clean-only outfit? I refer to my full academic attire -- hood, gown, and tam -- which hangs ceremoniously on my wardrobe door. It's in a place of honor, for sure, and a reminder of what I am and whom I hope to be.
After earning my Ph.D. in pharmacology, completing a postdoctoral fellowship, amassing a respectable publication record, and compiling a meaningful teaching portfolio, it was time for me to make my best case to hiring committees for why I ought to become their newest colleague.
I realize that I'm not the only person in my field who has ambitions of teaching and conducting research at a respected liberal-arts college. And should that quest fail, there's always Plan B (another postdoctoral fellowship.)
My tenure-track search started off easily enough. I had just returned from giving a research seminar on the West Coast. It was a good visit and all the signs were pointing to my being ready for the job market: My papers were being accepted without major revisions. I was invited to help write a book chapter, and I was asked by notable journals to review a couple of manuscripts. I was in the middle of an interesting collaborative research project at the Midwestern university where I am a postdoc, and I was looking forward to teaching my own introductory-level course and introducing students to my discipline.
My wife and I decided to be proactive -- and selective -- in my job search. Before most colleges announced their openings for the hiring season, we grabbed a map of the United States and several popular college guidebooks. Of the country's nearly 4,000 institutions of higher learning, we identified 37 to which I would consider applying.
All 37 were liberal-arts colleges that met our criteria of being:
- In a suitable geographic region.
- Not too far from a medium-to-large city.
- The sort of college that my wife and I would have considered attending ourselves.
Colleges received bonus points for being in the Northwest (close to my wife's family) and/or in a major city (better for her job prospects). A former classmate of mine mocked us for not being deliberate enough in our criteria. But surprisingly, nine job postings met our conditions.
My first formal act upon entering the job market was to ask for letters of recommendation. I had had three colleagues in mind for some time. They included my current boss, who served as both my graduate and postdoctoral research adviser; the professor in whose class I've lectured for the past four years; and the department head for whom I teach an introductory lecture and lab course.
All three were happy to support the cause. My adviser, who's often a tough sell, liked my choice of prospective employers and the way I went about selecting them. "You have chosen wisely," he seemed to say. It must have been the mentoring.
With my reference letters on their way, I turned to the applications. The nine deadlines were fairly evenly distributed over four months, with the first two coming up in three weeks.
Plenty of time, I thought. My CV was up-to-date, which meant that I had to put together only a cover letter and statements on my teaching and research interests, and possibly add in some reprints and supporting material. Conveniently, the first and second openings that I was applying for were very similar positions at very similar colleges. What could be easier?
Just as I was preparing to focus on the jobs I wanted, the job I already had began to demand my full attention. In our laboratory, we fell in to a tight time frame for dealing with a reviewer's comments and sending back a revised manuscript; a grant deadline was quickly approaching; and a paper I had once reviewed and rejected on behalf of a journal had been rewritten, and now I needed to comment on the author's rebuttal.
In the meantime, my research partner and I took turns suggesting additional experiments for the other to do and dodging each other's e-mail messages. Preparing three new lectures each week (plus the accompanying handouts and study guides) was starting to become a challenge.
As anxious as I was to devote every waking moment to preparing my job applications, most of my time wound up being surrendered to fulfilling my current obligations. Fair enough, since that was the job that was helping to pay our mortgage and decorate the nursery for our soon-to-arrive first child.
With most of my waking moments occupied, I realized that my sleeping moments were underutilized and ripe for redeployment. A couple hours later to bed and a couple of hours earlier to rise went a long way toward easing work pressures, and I regarded the lack of sleep as good practice for fatherhood.
The three weeks I had intended to devote to my first two applications evaporated before my bloodshot eyes. The fact that I typically go through multiple drafts and a focus group when I write a four-sentence e-mail message should have clued me in to how much time crafting my application material was going to take.
Fortunately, the first two applications became a solid foundation upon which I was able to construct the remaining seven. Since I had been so particular in deciding where to apply, I was truly invested in each packet I prepared. I deconstructed each job ad and personalized each application accordingly.
I identified in each cover letter what appealed to me about that particular college. I was able to indicate in my statement of research interests how my work would fit with that of the other faculty members in the department and how my expertise would meet the school's indicated needs. I think it's safe to say that my applications improved with each one I completed.
I also went through a ritual, though largely futile, critique of each application the day after I sent it out. Despite preparing revision upon revision in advance, and proofreading each application ad nauseam, I always found yet another correction to make. While it was too late to make it in that application, I could make it in the next one, which provided some catharsis.
I'm not sure if it was due to my qualifications, my carefully crafted applications, or just luck, but I've made it onto the shortlist of at least three searches, and I'm still waiting to hear back from a few committees. I'll be participating in the on-campus interviews over the next couple of months.
It may sound strange but I have to say, I'm glad that the application process is so rigorous. Spending such a substantial amount of time on each application -- and articulating my research interests, future plans, and teaching philosophy, in particular -- certainly helped me to develop an additional layer of academic maturity and professional autonomy. By application No. 6, I felt I was really coming into my own.
The end of the application period proved particularly busy: In one week's time, I sent out my ninth and final application, wrote my first invited single-author review article, and celebrated the birth of our beautiful daughter.
