Guilt and Learning to Own My Academic Job

Eric Anthony Grollman wrote a poignant piece last year for the blog Conditionally Accepted on what he called "graduate school garbage." This garbage consists of complex feelings of anxiety, stress, trauma, and even depression that accompany graduate school, finishing a dissertation, and surviving the highly competitive academic job market. Like any garbage, Grollman argues, we should dispose of these feelings and counter the forces that produce them. I stumbled upon this piece for the first time yesterday, and I appreciate it because it helped me identify one of the feelings with which I have been struggling: guilt. I have come to realize that guilt informs the way I talk about my recent appointment in academe, and it is something on which I'm working to improve.

Grollman cites in his piece an article in The Chronicle that discusses "survivor's guilt" among those who navigated the academic job market and ultimately landed a position. While this article fueled my reflection, I cannot comfortably claim that I am survivor of an arduous process. In truth, as I entered what appeared to be my last year as a graduate student, I did not expect to enter academe as a faculty member. Over the course of five months, I applied for approximately 20 jobs. Only two of them were for assistant professor positions. I simply didn't think I would be competitive enough on the academic job market, and there are many jobs in my field outside of tenure-trackdom. When I received the phone call to schedule a phone interview for an assistant professor gig, I was astounded. I carried that sense of shock as I advanced through the interview stages, and I still feel it as I write this today. However, my experience was not like those who applied for dozens of tenure-track jobs, sometimes over several years. I recognize that I ran a 5k, while they ran a marathon, and we each got the same medal at the end.

That inequality has cooked up a potent stew of guilt, which works its way into my interactions with others. The best example of this is a conversation with a friend last week. We ran into each other for the first time since she returned from West Africa, where she had been collecting data for her dissertation thanks to a Fulbright grant. We talked about how her writing was progressing and when she hoped to finish. (Although we universally hate these questions, graduate students still ask them constantly.) As a political scientist married to a fellow PhD who was taking a post-doc, she was preparing for a difficult job search down the road. The conversation shifted to me, and I shared that I was soon beginning a tenure-track position. Rather than own this and celebrate my success, I elected to completely downplay the whole thing. I framed my job search as low-key and my appointment as mere luck, since I only applied to two academic jobs. As I left, we hugged and she said something that struck me immediately: "I hope you are grateful for all of this. It's really great news."

My mistake was thinking that downplaying my appointment would make my friend feel better. Assuming I had cheated the system, I did not feel like I deserved the job. I felt guilty for securing something that proved elusive for a multitude of very talented people. And so my cavalier attempt at humility backfired. It made me seem pompous--as if this was a fun game that I just happened to play well because of beginner's luck. This was not just insensitive, it was inaccurate. Despite my "graduate school garbage," I had worked tremendously hard to position myself for a good job at the finish line. I applied to a faculty job for which I was qualified in a program looking for someone with my expertise. I prepared like a madman for every interview and received great mentorship from top scholars in my field. My appointment was not just a product of good fortune, it was earned.

Disposing of my garbage, then, means realizing that downplaying this exciting new career phase does not help my friends who are looking for academic positions. They don't want to hear the guilt-inflected version of my job search. They know this system isn't all apple pie and butterflies. It is extremely hard, and everyone struggles to run their individual race. There is a way for me to own and share my appointment without rubbing it in their faces. If I want to help my friends, I should confidently work to correct all of the sources of fear and anxiety in graduate school and beyond that infect academe, from bigotry to mistreatment of academic labor (and, yes, labor is the right word for many reasons, including those David Perry eloquently expressed). I should use my position to rid the path of unwarranted pot holes for the others hot on my heels. As I strive to shed feelings of guilt, I should also work in my small way to chip away at the bigger issues in the academic profession.