Leaving Academia
How I joined the Great Resignation & saved my soul
I learned how to read when I was three. I’ve been enamored with reading and storytelling since probably before birth, as my parents read to me while I was in utero. Always I knew I wanted a job telling stories, and during my first year of college, when taking an education class, I decided to become a teacher, and fell in love with pedagogy.
I do love teaching. I loved academia. My college and grad school experiences were amazing, mostly. I always wanted to be a college professor, and I strongly believe in the value of a liberal arts education, and learning for the sake of gaining new knowledge because it's fun to learn new things, and understand our vast world a bit better.
However, the reality of the world we live in is not an ideal one, and I was not prepared for the reality of the academic job market, which has, since before I graduated, been dismal, especially for poets. I have a PhD in Literature and Creative Writing, but many schools, especially SLACs (small liberal arts colleges, my preferred environment), don't see how capable we creative writers are, thinking we're not capable of teaching a class in canonical literature, sticking us with comp forever. [There's lots of great things about teaching first year composition, but it's not what I ever aspired to do.]
At this point, I’m going to recommend you watch this TEDX talk by Karen Kelsky entitled “Academia is a Cult.” The rest of this newsletter will make more sense after you’ve watched it.
I’m incredibly fortunate to have no student loan debt. My parents were able to pay for my undergraduate degree, and I received fellowships for my graduate degree programs, so I don’t have the particular regret that accompanies going into debt for a degree which hasn’t led to a job that pays the bills. I’m very aware of my privilege in this arena. I’m also extremely lucky that my disabling conditions weren’t as involved while I was in graduate school, because I do not think I would be able to complete a PhD if I had to do it now, not with my chronic pain and fatigue and brain fog what it is.
I got a job as an adjunct professor of English at a community college right after finishing my doctoral program. For many reasons I moved back to Iowa after getting my degree, and this limited an already narrow job pool significantly. But I didn’t want to move some random rural place all alone when I had family I missed who would welcome me home. For years, it felt like I was being punished for this choice by a low wage job where my colleagues at the community college (many of whom didn’t even have PhDs) treated me disdainfully. Though told we could get funding for academic conferences, my requests were usually denied, and I lived the typical nightmare many adjuncts face. I was commuting two hours a day, and I was miserable. But I loved my students, so I stayed much longer than I should have.
Eventually, I got an adjunct job at a SLAC in my hometown, and I loved teaching there. I wanted to work there forever, and applied three times for a FT position, but it really does seem to be true that adjuncts never get offered FT positions, not once a school realizes you’ll allow your labor to be exploited. Why should they pay more if you’ll scramble desperately for the crumbs? To be clear, I really loved my colleagues and students at this school. I do not have anything negative to say about the department at all. I got to teach wonderful classes that challenged and engaged me, including literature and creative writing classes.
But the “cult of academia” that Kelsky refers to in her TEDX talk had affected me deeply at this point. In 2019, when I fell down the stairs and suffered multiple severe fractures in my leg and ankle that required surgery and has left me with severe chronic pain, my primary concern was losing my job when I had to withdraw from teaching for the semester, confined as I was to bed. My department chair managed to find some online classes for me to teach, fortunately, and he assured me I shouldn’t worry about teaching at a time like that, but looking back now, I can see how deeply affected I was by tying my entire self-worth to my job description and academic position.
Once the pandemic hit, and teaching face to face meant literally risking my life, I began to search in earnest for another job. By this point I was teaching at 2-4 schools a semester in order to make ends meet, and I felt ashamed when asked about my job. Despite having published two successful poetry collections, and winning the Lambda Literary Award for my first book—which had been a dream of mine since I began writing poetry—I felt so much shame. I spent most of my thirties in a deep depression, sick with anxiety, and plagued with insomnia. I was not happy and I struggled to picture a future in which I could ever find happiness.
Things were bleak.
I started interviewing for jobs and reading more about Alt-Ac careers (those that aren’t in academia), and I struggled to even imagine myself into a life different than the one I’d always known. At first, I got no response, not even a rejection, to my applications, but as I continued to refine my resume and cover letter, I started getting interviews. One dream job interviewed me three times before deciding to go a different direction, but that experience bolstered me, and helped me believe it really was possible to have a different life. Eventually I was successful and was offered a job, and left my adjunct position on good terms.
Now I am three weeks into my new position as an Assistant Marketing Manager, and I love it. I love it so much more than I could have known I would. I’m not a morning person, and I’m definitely still adjusting to my new schedule, but I like the work I’m doing and the team I work with, and I love having a routine. My neurodivergent brain really thrives on routine, but it’s always been hard to implement when every day is different in academia.
People ask me how I can just “give up” teaching so suddenly, but it wasn’t sudden at all for me. I’ve been seeking a new reality for a long time, I just didn’t believe I could ever find it. And the perks of a living wage and a stable job are many. I can afford to contribute to charities I support, and my friends’ go-fund-me campaigns, and mutual aid. I can afford my wonderful but out-of-network therapist I worried I’d have to drop. I can afford take out on the nights I don’t feel like cooking. (Which is most nights, tbh. I hate cooking.)
The dogs are in heaven, going to doggy daycare most days, and I can afford that too, even as I try to avoid lifestyle creep, and keep my budget under control. I splurged on the Universal Standard blazer I’ve been eyeing. I upgraded my coffee maker. But nothing extravagant.
It’s not easy to translate your academic degrees and experience for the corporate world, but if it’s something you’re interested in, it’s possible. I am living my dream of being Peggy Olson, and an artistic rendering of this image of her from her most iconic scene sits on my desk to remind me to channel that energy.
I haven’t been so happy in a long time. Don’t fear the Great Resignation, if it’s been calling to you. There is another way to live, and it’s ok to seek out that happiness. As a good friend said to me, “The capitalist system is broken, and we can and should burn it to the ground, but you need money to live and do a little better than just scraping by, and it’s not bad for you, a fat, disabled, queer person to make a living wage for once!” For so long I let myself believe I didn’t deserve better, and of course no job is perfect, but I’m so happy, and it feels so good to be back to myself.