I find myself in a strange state of mind these days. Being 8.5 months pregnant, I feel obligated to be excited about the impending birth of my daughter, yet after years of not being a mother (including several not knowing if it would ever be a possibility -- like many, this daughter of mine is a miracle baby in the works), I keep thinking that it would be perfectly acceptable to remain (human) child-free. My husband and two cats are already more than enough of an immediate family for me, and we have the unconditional love and support of our extended family and friends. So there's no hole in my heart, no particular yearning for "completing" or "enhancing" our brood.
But this is leading me back to my perpetual professional worry about graduate students -- the ones who want to remain in academia, follow in their professors' footsteps, and be happy forever.
Of course there are many success stories -- young scholars who break the mold and sustain long, productive careers -- but as many an education journal has noted, the glut of highly qualified persons has diluted the tertiary education job market to the advantage of universities and their administrators. In other words, it's easy to hire cheap, eager "help" to perform tasks that hardly tap their existing wellsprings of expertise and stunt their potential growth indefinitely.
So, as with environmental issues ("save the planet, don't reproduce"), even we junior faculty members are ambivalent about encouraging prospective graduate students, especially those who want to earn doctoral degrees -- thinking that they will live in research bliss, have flexible and life-friendly schedules, and enjoy solid incomes with super-secure benefits. Historians are particularly nervous about predicting the future but it is evident just based on present-day information that a miniscule percentage (conservatively 5-10%, ambitiously 20-30%) will reap such rewards (and even then, there will be many trade-offs).
But like our advisors, and their advisors, discouraging students from dreaming of academic careers is an awkward business. It's difficult if not impossible to tell a student, "You already don't have what it takes" or "You are highly unaware, whether consciously or unconsciously, of what academic life is truly about." Many of said students receive these criticisms as mere challenges or blanket statements -- some are so optimistic that they believe you are just wrong. It doesn't matter that their grades are just average or only slightly above average. It doesn't matter that they do not exhibit the basic traits of successful professional academics. They will somehow be exceptional, sometime in the indeterminate future.
It's even hard to dissuade outstanding students who have a reasonable chance at establishing academic careers, but may 1) be more well-suited for other professions, 2) have external obligations that will hinder them from developing their scholarship. Dealing with a student in the former category is slightly easier; one can always suggest the two-track plan for their graduate studies so that they can ultimately decide whether to remain in the academic sphere or to pursue a more lucrative/personally fulfilling line of work. Students in the latter category, to be honest, inspire sympathy but also a great reluctance to encourage their dreams. It breaks my heart to talk with a student who wants to be a professor for the "good pay" in order to support a large family but also expects to have plenty of free time to care for elderly and/or younger relatives. Holding a faculty position that comes with generous compensation is not guaranteed (far from it, the wicked voice in my head always cries), and those high-income jobs often entail working long hours and sacrificing evenings/holidays/any scraps of free time one might care to enjoy. Assuming that academics are wealthy and under-committed is a tremendous folly.
I haven't worked out the right way to deal with the majority of students who want to become future faculty -- I have only been able to endorse three out of a hundred students without any reservations to date. I've developed several pitches about alternative careers, as well as the aforementioned two-track plan, and the joys of earning a terminal Master's degree and moving on to the world of work with no less pay than a first-year PhD-endowed assistant professor. I try to teach skills along with knowledge in my courses so that undergraduates see history as a pathway to many different professions, not just teaching and research. I don't mince words about the positive and negative aspects of an academic career, and I will always apply a needle to burst highly romantic (and unrealistic) notions about academia.
Yet I always find that A.B.C. is a delicate matter, and it's a diplomatic quandary how to teach students to be happy *without* chasing the academic dream, much like many people in the 21st century are quite contentedly child-free.
But this is leading me back to my perpetual professional worry about graduate students -- the ones who want to remain in academia, follow in their professors' footsteps, and be happy forever.
Of course there are many success stories -- young scholars who break the mold and sustain long, productive careers -- but as many an education journal has noted, the glut of highly qualified persons has diluted the tertiary education job market to the advantage of universities and their administrators. In other words, it's easy to hire cheap, eager "help" to perform tasks that hardly tap their existing wellsprings of expertise and stunt their potential growth indefinitely.
So, as with environmental issues ("save the planet, don't reproduce"), even we junior faculty members are ambivalent about encouraging prospective graduate students, especially those who want to earn doctoral degrees -- thinking that they will live in research bliss, have flexible and life-friendly schedules, and enjoy solid incomes with super-secure benefits. Historians are particularly nervous about predicting the future but it is evident just based on present-day information that a miniscule percentage (conservatively 5-10%, ambitiously 20-30%) will reap such rewards (and even then, there will be many trade-offs).
But like our advisors, and their advisors, discouraging students from dreaming of academic careers is an awkward business. It's difficult if not impossible to tell a student, "You already don't have what it takes" or "You are highly unaware, whether consciously or unconsciously, of what academic life is truly about." Many of said students receive these criticisms as mere challenges or blanket statements -- some are so optimistic that they believe you are just wrong. It doesn't matter that their grades are just average or only slightly above average. It doesn't matter that they do not exhibit the basic traits of successful professional academics. They will somehow be exceptional, sometime in the indeterminate future.
It's even hard to dissuade outstanding students who have a reasonable chance at establishing academic careers, but may 1) be more well-suited for other professions, 2) have external obligations that will hinder them from developing their scholarship. Dealing with a student in the former category is slightly easier; one can always suggest the two-track plan for their graduate studies so that they can ultimately decide whether to remain in the academic sphere or to pursue a more lucrative/personally fulfilling line of work. Students in the latter category, to be honest, inspire sympathy but also a great reluctance to encourage their dreams. It breaks my heart to talk with a student who wants to be a professor for the "good pay" in order to support a large family but also expects to have plenty of free time to care for elderly and/or younger relatives. Holding a faculty position that comes with generous compensation is not guaranteed (far from it, the wicked voice in my head always cries), and those high-income jobs often entail working long hours and sacrificing evenings/holidays/any scraps of free time one might care to enjoy. Assuming that academics are wealthy and under-committed is a tremendous folly.
I haven't worked out the right way to deal with the majority of students who want to become future faculty -- I have only been able to endorse three out of a hundred students without any reservations to date. I've developed several pitches about alternative careers, as well as the aforementioned two-track plan, and the joys of earning a terminal Master's degree and moving on to the world of work with no less pay than a first-year PhD-endowed assistant professor. I try to teach skills along with knowledge in my courses so that undergraduates see history as a pathway to many different professions, not just teaching and research. I don't mince words about the positive and negative aspects of an academic career, and I will always apply a needle to burst highly romantic (and unrealistic) notions about academia.
Yet I always find that A.B.C. is a delicate matter, and it's a diplomatic quandary how to teach students to be happy *without* chasing the academic dream, much like many people in the 21st century are quite contentedly child-free.
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