A Dual Exit: An IHE Interview

Interested in hearing why two members of an academic couple would decide to leave academe at the same time? Check out my latest IHE piece: "A Dual Exit":

http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/woolf8

Questions and comments are welcome!

Academe and the Loss of Human Capital

I heard a story on NPR this morning, "Flabby Skills Are Latest Worry For Unemployed," about the current recession and the impact of long-term unemployment (6+months) on workers' skills. "Any bout of unemployment can be painful, hurt your finances and derail a career," says NPR's economics correspondent John Ydstie. "But long-term unemployment is particularly damaging, both to the individual and the economy. One thing that can happen is that the skills workers possess, their 'human capital' in economics jargon, begins to erode."

So what exactly is human capital? According to one basic definition, it's "the set of skills which an employee acquires through education, training, and on-the-job experience, and which increase that employee's value in the marketplace." If you're unemployed for many months, your industry can simply "leave you behind"; some of your skills may even become obsolete. "And the losses can be significant and real harmful for both individual and economies," notes Ydstie. Moreover, "because of falling home prices, many Americans can't afford to move to get a new job. So they remain unemployed or trapped in jobs that aren't taking full advantage of their skills."


There's more human capital in my couch.

As I was listening to this story, I couldn't help but think about my own predicament as a, more or less, long-term un/under-employed Ph.D. If research fellowships here and there are removed from the mix, I have not held an actual teaching position in my field since 2007, when I was still in graduate school and working as a TA/lecturer. That is a very long time. I have also not held a full-time, non-academic (and relatively low paying) job since 2001. In terms of on-the-job experience, whether in the ivory tower or elsewhere, my human capital is crap.

But what about education and training? I have a Ph.D. and a string of fellowships--that should count for something, right? Um, no, not really. If I were to apply for a tenure-track teaching job at a liberal arts college or a state university, the first thing a search committee would (or should) notice is my lack of recent teaching experience. Although I supported myself through grad school by teaching or TAing multiple classes nearly every semester (and summer), at this point it's been a while since I was in the classroom. This gap could make SCs wary about my ability to hit the ground running next fall and not freak out when faced with a 3/3 teaching load.

SCs at R1s, on the other hand, may not care about the years I've spent doing research and writing rather than teaching post-Ph.D. They might see this as a bonus. It's hard to tell. But since most of the jobs in my particular subfield are more teaching oriented this year, I doubt I'll be as competitive as someone who graduated in 2009 and has since published a couple articles and worked as a visiting professor at a top 20 liberal arts college, for example. Only time will tell.

Then there are the non-academic employers out there. What would they think about my resume? While I may have spent the last decade earning a high-level degree, teaching, writing, researching, etc., none of that necessarily translates well or easily in another field. And fellowships? Forget about them. Who cares if I received a postdoctoral research grant from Harvard or Yale if I'm now applying for a job as an editor or a communications specialist or an academic administrator? My resume suggests, rightly so, that I've been out of "work" for a while now. Despite my skill set and potential for success, hiring me would be a gamble compared to another applicant with recent hands-on job experience and a professional narrative that builds towards X position in a meaningful and straightforward way.

The point of all this pondering, I think, is that I'm honestly concerned that my choice to become an academic, and tread water in postdoc land since graduation, may result in dramatic, long-term (negative) professional repercussions. As more post-Ph.D. time passes and my degree begins to look stale, I may never be able to land a tenure-track job. (Whether I really want one is another post entirely . . .) On the other hand, I may also fail to find a decent non-academic position in the next year, due to the recession, my declining human capital, and the fact that I'd be making a career transition out of academe and into something new. 

During a recession it's more obvious, both to employers and employees alike, what isn't valuable than what is. For those of us out there job hunting with Ph.D.s in humanities fields, finding, broadcasting, and, if need be, translating our value to potential employers should be our top priority. We don't have time to waste: getting all flabby is a big professional no-no.

Making the Switch: Q&A with Benjamin Harrison

When Ph.D.’s contemplate leaving academe because they either cannot find a tenure-track job or are dissatisfied with their current academic position, location, salary, etc., many turn to elite private-school teaching. For those who truly enjoy teaching and interacting with young people, working at a prep school is an understandable, and realistic, alternate career option. Unlike public schools, private schools generally do not require certification; demonstrating subject matter expertise is easily accomplished with a doctoral degree.

Private secondary schools are open to the prospect of hiring Ph.D.s, so long as they have teaching experience and are able to avoid the common pitfalls of appearing arrogant or anything less than passionate about working with adolescents. I spoke with Benjamin Harrison, whom regular readers may know as an assistant professor of history currently making the transition to private school teaching, about his background and interests in making the switch.

Q. Can you describe your current academic position and tell us how you got there?

I received my Ph.D. in a humanities field from a medium-sized university in the mid-west. After completing my degree I worked as a Visiting Assistant Professor at a small college before landing my current tenure-track position at a non-flagship state university. Like many in the humanities, I largely took this position because it was the one I was offered, but it also seemed like a good job.

Q. Why are you considering leaving the academy?

God, that’s a book in itself! The short answer is that the reality of life in the academy is not all that I’d hoped. I am at a third-tier institution in a part of the country my wife and I don’t much like. In a perfect world, I’d find a different job in the academy, but the market makes that sort of move nearly impossible.

At the risk of bragging, I’ve got a damn good CV: a book finished and under contract with a major university press, two articles on my second project in top-tier journals, prestigious fellowships, and loads of teaching experience. In the past these would have allowed me to move up, but that is no longer the case. Last year I applied for two jobs, made the on-campus stage for one of them. I lost out to a candidate with two books, multiple major articles and tenure at an R-1 university.

This brought home the fact that when you get to the final rounds, publications and awards don’t matter because all the finalists are going to have them. At that point it’s a matter of fit and personality, which is another way of saying “blind luck.” I could continue to apply for jobs, and hope that I would eventually win the cosmic coin-flip, but the stress of the market and the long odds of finding a desirable position made this route unacceptable.

I've come to realize two things:

1. Staying in academia would mean staying at my current school.

2. I am not staying at my current school.

Other factors, related and unrelated:

• Pay. Salaries have been frozen for four years and the chances of a meaningful raise are zero. We’re living pay-check to pay-check, and that sucks. I can make more at private school.

• Once you have tenure, my current university provides little/no support for research. As a result my research program is about to die, so why not let it die at a prep school?

• My current uni. provides no tuition support even at universities in the same state system. I see senior faculty teaching two courses every summer just so their kids can attend _____ State, and I’m not interested in going down that road.

Q. What is it about private school teaching in particular that attracts you?

Going the prep school route brings me and my family a tremendous amount of freedom. How many academics can choose the city, or even the state, in which they want to live? If I go the prep school route I will be able to do that.

$$$$$. Believe it or not prep schools pay more (often much more) than your average college or university. According to the salary schedule of one prep school (granted it’s in Los Angeles) I would walk through the door making $66,000. According to my rep at Carney, salaries in less high-rent cities would be in the high $50s to low $60s. That’s real money.

Quality and quantity of Students. Students at prep schools read and write better than the students in my surveys. And while I will teach more classes per semester, they will be far smaller, so the total number of students I have will actually decrease.

Community. While we have a handful of majors whom I dearly love, the majority of my students disappear at the end of the semester, and I never see them again. I attended and taught at small colleges, and I miss the sense of community inherent in smaller institutions. Most prep schools operate in the same way.

Career prospects. PhDs at prep schools are on the fast track to department char and administration if they desire. In my current department I’d make chair in about twelve years, and never become dean. I don’t know if I want to go this route, but I want to have the option.

Q. Do you have any misgivings about leaving academe and teaching at the secondary level?

Of course! Right or wrong (and I’d argue “wrong”) there is more social cache attached to being a professor than a teacher. That is a pretty significant psychological barrier to get past, and I can’t say I’ve done it yet.

There is also the fact that leaving would probably mean the end of my research agenda. That said, I’ve heard from several different people that research is possible. One friend had a colleague on a year-long sabbatical (funded by the NEH) to work on his book, and everyone agreed that prep school librarians can get you hard-to find books through ILL. Many schools also will pay for borrowing privileges from local university libraries. So while research may become a summer-only activity, for many of us it already is.

Q. How does the hiring process differ in the world of independent secondary schools?

First, it’s a bit later in the year. The majority of hiring takes place in the late spring, right as higher ed is wrapping up.

Second, a lot of it runs through regional and national hiring firms such as Carney Sandoe. This actually makes life much easier, as you write one letter, one CV and let the search firm do the legwork to find you appropriate positions. Then you sit back and wait to hear from schools. I’m sure it’s just as stressful as the academic market, but at least you don’t have to tailor twenty-five different letters.

Third, the PhD really makes a candidate stand out. At the risk of jinxing myself, this year (for the first time in my life) I’m going to be a hot candidate, possibly turning down interviews and offers. Imagine that.

*Thanks to Ben Harrison for the great interview. For more information on making the switch to private school teaching, and additional advice from BH and other Ph.D.'s, check out my Inside Higher Ed column next month.

Sunk Costs vs. Opportunity Costs: Economics 101

When you're trying to make a  major life decision, in this case whether or not to stay in academe (or whether or not to finish an M.A. or Ph.D.), it's easy to get trapped in a vicious cycle of worry, self-doubt, and anxiety about the future. "Should I or shouldn't I do X? . . . What will happen if I stop doing Y? . . . Am I ready to take such a huge step right now? . . . Perhaps I should wait until next year? . . ."

If you're trapped in a perpetual moment of indecision, these are the types of questions that will soon begin to haunt the halls of your mind, both during your waking and your dream life. It's not fun to be stuck in the middle, constantly looking backward, with no clear way of moving forward.

So what factors should you be weighing when trying to decide which path to take right now? These will invariably differ depending on individual circumstances, but it might make things easier for you if you stop to consider two concepts that economists call "sunk costs" and "opportunity costs."

Are you a gambler?

First, some definitions:

Sunk Costs: These are the costs (in time, money, mental and emotional energy spent, etc.) incurred in the past as a result of a decision made long ago. It's now impossible to recover these retrospective costs. You may have spent 6-8+ years in grad school and wracked up $50K in student loan and credit card debt, or way more in my case, to obtain a humanities Ph.D., but there is nothing you can do about that now. Unless time travel becomes a realistic possibility sometime soon, it's too late to go back and change your mind or take a different path. 

Opportunity Costs: These are the immediate costs of not taking the next best alternative or, in economics speak, of not putting a resource to its best use. Your Ph.D. in English, for example, might be of greater use in the corporate world rather than in academe, particularly if you've been looking for a full-time position for several years and are still coming up empty handed. The time/energy you're currently spending adjunct teaching at four different commuter campuses (for $3,000 per course, per semester, and no benefits), would most definitely be better spent on some other method of professional development that involved greater financial and career returns.

While it may seem like moving into another career, or investing further energy and money in a completely new professional path outside academe, is essentially wasteful (and depressing) at this point, sometimes it's better to start afresh. The fact is that continuing to stay un/under--or miserably--employed in academe is not going to get back what you've already sunken into the Ph.D. any more than leaving the ivory tower would.

Opportunity costs, on the other hand, are still in play. Sure, it's safer to stay with what you know and continue looking for academic work: joining the professorate in is what you've trained to do; academe is the world you're comfortable with. But what's the cost? If your energies and time could be better spent looking for a non-faculty administrative position, or learning HTML, or volunteering at a private school, or working part-time at a library, or taking business courses, and so on, the long-term cost of not doing any of these useful things could be great indeed. It's always a risk to move in a new professional direction. No argument there. But what's the cost of treading water? And more importantly, especially if you're currently unhappy, what's the emotional cost of remaining immobile, trapped in a job, or a location, or a stage of life that you hate? What's the point of all this suffering?

Maybe the best thing you got out of pursuing a fancy doctoral degree was the knowledge and skills attained in the process. Maybe,10 years from now, not landing on the tenure track will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. Either way, it's critical to make a decision rather than continue to torment yourself needlessly. You might make the wrong choice, or you might not, but stalling is not going to make the transition process any easier.

I'll conclude with a few question worth pondering for any job seeker currently stuck in limbo:

1. What are the sunk costs of my professional choices thus far?

2. Am I willing to concede that these retrospective costs will never be returned to me and thus shouldn't have a bearing on my decisions now?

3. What's the opportunity cost of inaction?  What am I missing by remaining in academe?

4. What could I gain if I chose to walk away or began to take steps in a new direction?

Am I saying that every non-academic opportunity out there is worth taking, no matter the cost? No, not at all. Instead, I'm advising you, the job seeker, to consider the cost(s) of not doing things that might help you to transition out of academe at the same time that you consider the costs of doing them.

Freelance Writing: Alternate Careers Continued

Not Your Typical Career Advice Post

I realize that some veteran freelancers may think it unwise to call freelance writing a "career" (in the sense of a full-time, paid position with benefits) and, at this point, I'm inclined to agree with them. Breaking into freelance writing is almost as difficult as finding a tenure-track academic job, only the pay is much worse and more sporadic. Simply put, making a proper career out of freelancing takes initiative, time, guts, connections, and supplemental resources; it's not the path of least resistance. You may have to live in someone's basement for a year, go without electricity or cable, or even subsistence farm your parents' backyard, in order to live the freelancing "dream." In fact, you may be waiting for the dream to pan out indefinitely. I'm not joking.

Crap, did I forgot to pay the electric bill again?

My own attempts to segue into freelance writing have convinced me that while it can be a great way to broaden your professional social circles, experiment with a variety of writing genres, and diversify your writing portfolio, it's not the best way to make money. Consequently, it's also usually not the best time investment. You might pour your heart and soul into researching, writing, and polishing that 1,500 word article over a period of several days, but you're still only going to get paid $100. And who wants to start off on an alternate career path that is not only strewn with significant hurdles but also pays worse than adjunct teaching? As for myself, I refuse to gear up madly in pursuit of yet another career promising limited, or nil, financial returns. (Been there, done that, thank you very much.)

I am, however, interested in attaining the following, all of which I believe freelance writing does afford:

1. Professional contacts in the non-academic world
2. Experience writing for a wide variety of print and online publications
3. Hands-on experimentation with writing genres outside my traditional comfort zone
4. Ability to reach new, diverse audiences
5. Short-term, incremental steps away from academe

Freelance writing is great for those of us who enjoy writing and working independently but are not sure if we're ready to make an actual career as a professional writer, either inside or outside the ivory tower, on our own or as part of an organization. I think we learn best by doing, and freelancing is one way to get busy and flex your mental muscles. FAST. You don't have to sit around for months and months waiting for the perfect full-time job to materialize. Instead, you can get out there and start working on small projects right away and even make a little pocket change. You can also make contacts with editors and establish positive working relationships with media professionals outside academe.

The important thing to keep in mind is that freelancing is not something you'll suddenly transform into a full-on, well paid career overnight. It's better, in my opinion, to think of it as a practice run, an experimental jaunt into the world of non-academic communication. It's a great way to test the waters and gain confidence in your ability to market yourself to, and communicate with, a much wider public than the small, exclusive circles of academe to which you've been confined in the past.

So far my freelancing "career" has consisted of article writing for legitimate magazines and other print/online publications, column writing for Inside Higher Ed, and manuscript editing and proofreading for various academics. All of these were either ongoing paid assignments or one-time only gigs, and they were acquired in a variety of ways. In some cases I sent queries and sample clips to editors before they commissioned me to write an article; in other cases I submitted completed articles and hoped for the best (not all were selected for publication); and still in other cases editors and fellow academics contacted me directly to ask if I would write a specific piece or proofread a text. Finding work through people you know, or organizations that you trust, is a wise way to get started. So, too, is submitting queries to editors at well-established print and online publications.

Do keep in mind that the world of freelancing is full of bottom feeders. Avoiding scams is key. Be wary of anything that sounds to good to be true! I was nearly suckered into a lucrative sounding part-time freelancing gig with a fictitious company whose sole intent in advertising for a freelancer was to convince X number of job candidates to pay an exorbitant fee per month to join an online site for writers. (Yes, http://www.realwritingjobs.com/ is a scam. Don't fall for it!) A little online research indicated what was really going on and the misstep was easily avoided, but it is annoying to have to sift through false leads. For this reason, I would avoid hunting for freelance writing and editing leads via websites like http://www.freelancewritinggigs.com/. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with this site but they tend to just scan Craigslist, which is full of dicey ads, and then post links to job openings that may or may not be legitimate. Why waste your time? Time is money . . . and mental and emotional energy.

In sum, on a scale of 1 to 10, I'd rate freelancing a 3 in terms of viable career options for humanities Ph.D.s. While I enjoy the work and will continue to pursue freelancing opportunities on the side as they come my way, I think I (we) can do much better.

Translating the Value of the Liberal Arts Degree

How do we reach parents and students increasingly anxious about the economic outcomes of their undergraduate degrees and still manage to convince the next generation to invest in liberal arts majors and classes? Proclaiming the "value" of the liberal arts in the abstract (good citizen, critical thinking skills, flourishing life of the mind, etc.) is no longer working, writes Richard A. Greenwald  in an article today at Inside Higher Ed: http://www.insidehighered.com/views/2010/10/01/greenwald

"We need to speak more concretely to the economic as well as the intellectual value of a liberal arts degree," he observes. 

I agree, of course; boy do I agree. I only wish the concrete rather than abstract value of a liberal arts degree, and now Ph.D., was clearer to me, too. I went into this at age 18 (in the beginning at least) believing that the liberal arts allowed for the greatest amount of self exploration, creative expression, reading/writing, and critical analysis, all elements I sought in a major, and especially in a lifelong career, at the time. I still seek these elements in my pursuit of a professional life but have now come to realize that they're not appreciated by the vast majority of people in the US and that getting paid a decent salary to be a well-rounded, smart, critical thinker and writer is incredibly difficult. The economic value is still lost to me personally.

So who can blame these skeptical parents and undergrads? We liberal arts majors don't usually have good news to report about our personal financial situations, at least not at the moment. Well, come to think of it, none of my friends who majored in English, history, or anthropology back in the day ended up where they would have liked. Let me give you an illustration of where they are now.

Some highly subjective but legit examples of real-world results of liberal arts degrees:
1. Waitress for a catering company ($12.00 per hr)
2. Library assistant ($15.00 per hour)
3. Library clerk ($11.00 per hr)
4. UPS driver ($10.00 per hr)
5. High school teacher ($45,000)
6. Adjunct university instructor ($12,00 per year)
7. Administrative assistant ($38,000)
8. Assoc. director of an academic program ($40,000)
9. Tenure-track professor ($50,000)
10. Freelance writer (negligible salary info.)
11. After-school programs consultant ($13.00 per hr)
12. Unemployment benefits

Where's my change?

I could list more results but the proof is in the pudding: no one I know with a liberal arts background makes more than $50K per year, and these are people in their 30s and 40s. Now, for some, a salary ranging anywhere from $12-50K, with both $12 & $50K being the result of many additional years in school, might be good enough. I say let's advise all of those people with low salary expectations (and hence no knowledge of the costs of real world living) to major in the liberal arts. Then no one will be bitter and shocked down the line.

My list is also reflective of the major "economic shift" that Greenwald talks about: "Today estimates are that over 25 percent of the American population is working as contingent labor -- freelancers, day laborers, consultants, micropreneurs. Sitting where we do it is easy to dismiss this number because we assume it comes from day laborers and the working class, i.e., the non-college-educated."

Um, NO. I don't assume it comes solely from the non-college-educated. Only someone sitting relatively pretty would make such a statement!

"Today’s liberal arts graduates will need to function in an economy that is in some ways smaller. Most will work for small firms and many will simply work on their own. They will need to multitask as well as blend work and family," he concludes.

None of this sounds that promising to me as a job-seeking Ph.D. in my 30s. Can't imagine how it would sound if I was 18.