"It's a waste of time to train Ph.D. students for teaching positions. You don't need a Ph.D. to teach college."
That's the conventional wisdom I've been hearing ever since I began pursuing a Ph.D. in the biological sciences: that research -- not teaching -- should be my mission in life. It doesn't matter anymore whether you do that research in academe or industry, but it's research you were trained to do and research is what you shall do.
In contrast to that, my whole reason for getting a Ph.D. was to teach at a place like my alma mater, a small, liberal-arts college in the East. Being there, surrounded by professors dedicated to teaching and undergraduate research, I naïvely assumed that this was an acceptable profession for Ph.D.'s from the biological sciences. Who would have known?
Now don't get me wrong, research has always held an interest for me, but I harbored no illusions that I would grow up to be some highly recognized, well-funded researcher. (And in today's job market, you're either a hot young researcher or you're jobless, and sometimes both.) I always thought that training and educating students was what I really wanted to do. The path of the research Ph.D. was a way to accomplish my goal of teaching at the college level, and whether or not I found fame and glory in the research world didn't much matter.
Upon entering graduate school at a Midwestern university with an excellent undergraduate reputation, I assumed that the professors there would value teaching. In the biological sciences the professors, not the graduate students, taught everything from introductory biology to medical-school courses. Surely here, I thought, was a place that valued teaching and that would encourage it in its graduate students.
Of course I was immediately disabused of that notion when my adviser informed me that, while he supported my career aspirations, I should NEVER express them to others, as teaching was considered an unacceptable career path. As a result no teaching experience was forthcoming in my graduate career, and I've been playing catch-up ever since. My adviser was correct, and I was roundly criticized when I chose to be honest about my career aspirations after my thesis defense. This prompted the quote from above, and other less-than-supportive comments from my committee members.
When I moved on to the postdoc (obligatory, even for those on the teaching track), I hoped for better luck. I decided not to split up my three-month-old marriage, made what researchers call a "career suicide move" and remained at my graduate institution for a postdoc. I carefully chose a subject for my postdoctoral work that would be conducive to "small science" and undergraduate research. Amazingly I even thought I'd found a supporter in my postdoctoral adviser, who shared that she, too, had applied for and received a teaching position but had gone the research route instead. She happily placed me in charge of training the undergraduate researchers in her lab and agreed to let me work as a teaching assistant for a professor in the biology department. I merrily plugged away at my research thinking I was one of the lucky ones.
However, when my projects failed to pan out quickly enough, I was told that it was unacceptable to waste my outside time pursuing teaching opportunities. I knew it was time for a change when the same adviser told me that, after all, I didn't need teaching experience to get a teaching position.
Fast-forward to my current position. It is my good fortune that professors are far more desperate for postdocs than vice versa. I was finally able to find a match of research project and adviser who was willing to "look the other way" while I pursued teaching opportunities. Not an ideal situation, but better than what had come before.
And now, with years of perseverance, phone calls, e-mail messages, and some lucky breaks, I've managed to get some "real" teaching experience -- thanks mainly to a biology professor at my university who threw every lead my way and to the unfortunate fact that colleges are increasingly relying on desperate people like me to function as temporary faculty members. I admit, however, that my research has suffered some with this dedication to teaching. In 1998, I lost out on a non-tenure-track teaching position because, I later found out, I didn't have enough teaching experience. A year later, in my first "official" attempt at landing a tenure-track job, I learned that it was a lack of publications that held up my chances of getting a job.
So despite that I love my teaching experiences and will miss the often hectic balance between research and teaching (don't ask how many miles I logged on my car traveling between jobs), it's time to buckle down on research and round out my C.V. To that end, I now have two papers accepted pending revision, one paper submitted and under review, and two more set to be submitted in December. I will have enough other strikes against me as I enter the job market for the third time, and need to look as impressive as possible on paper.
The other main strike against me comes in the form of a second-body problem. My husband is in his fourth year of medical school and, around the Ides of March (most appropriately), he will go through the stress of "match day." He will be informed where he must do his residency, with little regard as to where I might have a job. So we are desperately looking for places where he can get a residency that also meet my job needs. Of course the irony will likely come on that day in March when he holds a piece of paper telling him he has a residency in one part of the country and I have job prospects in another. The "simple" solution would be to live apart. This brings me to my third and final strike ...
We are a growing family, with a 3-year-old son neither of us would part from, and another child due in February. We've debated the wisdom of interviewing for jobs with such an "in your face" reminder of my female fertility and the demands of motherhood, but what's done is done and I'll have to live with the decision.
In my most cynical moments I see myself as an unemployed Ph.D., hoping to persuade someone to hire me as an adjunct for ridiculously low wages. In flashes of optimism I see myself landing that tenure-track job.
I can only hope that in the job search it is not three strikes and you're out.
