Dandlioneyes left a question for me yesterday which collided with some of the soul searching I�ve been doing about the end of the Ph.D. process:

I have a question for you: what happens- or, rather -what do you WANT to happen post phd? do you want to stay in academic? do you love it? i found that graduate school has beaten the joy out of me, has beaten the joy out of writing and researching. in part that is because the program i am at is inept, making the whole ordeal even more challenging (and we all have our grad-school horror stories, i know). i went in thinking: i want to do this. i want academia. my parents are both academics - i don't know any different/better, you know? but after teaching, after doing this, besides the flexible schedule (which is truly amazing, especially for having a family), i'm not such a happy camper. and scared about finishing, because then the next step comes: deciding. finding a job. etc.etc. what about you? any words of wisdom? my hubby is also in academia, but in a field where jobs are easy to come by. so i know we'll have an income the year we both finish, which, i suppose, i should be happy for. but i really want to carry my weight, work, etc., and maybe i should be grateful that i will have the luxury of finding something i want/like even if it takes a while.

The big question: do I want to stay an academic? I can answer the second part. I DO love it, or at least parts of it. I love the research and writing and teaching. But there are definitely things I don�t love. I don�t love the job market. I don�t love the tenure process. I don�t love the political crap, although there is, of course, a measure of that in any job. It just seems to be heightened in academia and the whole premise runs counter to the academic intent and feels like a lie.

I also don�t love my constant anxiety about the whole thing. Odalisk actually talked about this in an entry last week. I am usually excited about my work and I am totally confident and even exhilarated when talking about what I do to most people. But I am terrified in front of my colleagues, terrified of looking stupid, of missing something of key importance. I don�t think I handle critique as well as I should. This is endemic of academia and is to some extent unjustified � I�ve had more than my share of positive feedback most of the time.

I�m really sorry to hear that graduate school has �beaten the joy out of writing and researching� for dandlioneyes. I have so been there. I do think it�s possible to regain the joy. I really don�t know anyone who is serious about their work AND his/her life who doesn�t come to that point. The only ones who seem to avoid it are those who are able to put the rest of the world aside and plow through. And frankly, not only do I find such people a bit scary, but I think they are missing the point. The road to the Ph.D. is paved with crises d�existence. I believe I�ve talked a bit about some of my own grad school frustrations before, but here is a recap for those who are unfamiliar, because I think they are important in my response to dandlioneyes� questions.

When I started my program, we had four years of coursework � twice as much as just about any other program of its kind. We had comprehensive exams after the second year, field exams after year four and then the dissertation and defense. In addition to the two big exams there were also three language exams and six music skills exams. I chose this program because of its rigor, because I was an English major in college who decided in her senior year that she wanted to go to grad school in music and slammed through the major by taking an extra half-load of classes in my senior year. I wanted a program that would make sure I knew everything I needed to know before handing me a degree. The flip side of a program like that, of course, is that it takes forever to finish. At the time the average duration of completion was somewhere between 11 and 12 years. Eventually, and I think under pressures from the university at large, they reduced the requirements. I have joked that if I stick around long enough, I will graduate without doing any more work, as gradually incomplete papers � which probably would have prevented me from finishing, due to their ancientness (mostly fallout from my bout with mono in my first year) � have been erased.

After year four, I was on the fast track to finish. My proposal was well underway and I�d put together a committee. But I was having second thoughts about my intended area of specialization. As I was coming to the realization that perhaps my topic was not one with which I really wanted to continue, a nasty politically charged battle took place within my department and my advisor was fired (or what passes for fired in academia). That was the kick in the ass I needed to revamp things, but I had also become very disenchanted with the whole system. I was extremely na�ve about the politics that go on in any work environment, and I had an even more idealized notion of the way departments worked in academia. It was definitely a �welcome to the real world� moment for me. So much so, that I decided I needed to get out in the real world. I spent the next year concentrating on my conducting and eventually accepted a job as an arts administrator. I took a summer off to do research in New York (where I lived with my wonderful friend rs536) and came back in the fall recharged and ready to start my new job. A few weeks after I started working, I got a letter from my department chair that set some insane deadlines for completion. I�d like to cut them some slack and say that they were trying to get me to refocus on academics in the aftermath of the drama, but as I understood it at the time, I was essentially being forced out. I wasn�t playing by the rules. I petitioned the department, using a document that would ultimately become my proposal, based on my extensive research over the summer. It was a good document and my advisor fought hard for me and I received a reprieve. But that process was the last straw for me. I was totally embittered. I did virtually nothing towards my degree for the next four years other than continue paying my tuition, which, as I was a post-fellowship student, was nominal.

I loved my new job. I got to use my musical knowledge all the time for practical things. Moreover, my bosses and coworkers regularly told me how much they appreciated my work. I was promoted twice and nearly doubled my salary in three years. Then my job got ugly. Our wonderful boss moved to the west coast and we spent a year without one. That was actually a great year, as all of us worked so well together and although one person was nominally in charge, it was really a collaborative venture. But then they hired a new person. And she was insane. Really, truly, certifiably crazy. She was eventually fired (for a number of reasons, one of which was that she had been embezzling, something I actually discovered) and things got better, but the organization was seriously damaged. Those of us who had lived through it were damaged. It became obvious that the only way for the organization to thrive was for there to be a new and vital staff. I left when I had AJ and never looked back.

I never had the intention of being a stay-at-home mom, but I just couldn�t go back to work. I was offered an excellent job one block from our home that paid well enough to make childcare worthwhile. They were even willing to work around AJ�s feeding schedule so I could run home to nurse the baby. It was everything I wanted, except that I didn�t want it. Not only was I not happy about the prospect of leaving the baby with someone else, I had realized that I really missed my academic work. The job had helped me get over much of my previous disillusionment. I had gone into graduate school with a very idealized picture of the way things worked. I now knew better what to expect. A few months after AJ was born, one of my best friends defended her dissertation and I went down to cheer her on. One of her committee members was my advisor. I was a little afraid to ask about returning, but I shouldn�t have been. I mentioned it in a very cagey way and was met with open arms. I the prodigal daughter was swept back to his office immediately following the defense. I passed my fields with flying colors, got a lucrative national fellowship to finish, and here I am in the end stages.

So where does that leave me now? The fact is, I keep coming back to academia, so there is definitely an attraction there. I will go on the academic market in the fall, but I am skeptical. First, the market sucks, plain and simple. I�m in one of the top programs in my field but it seems like most people take at least two years to find a job after graduation. Such is the life of humanities specialists these days. Second, I am not nearly as flexible at this time in my life as I was when I was young and single. I am not willing to live just anywhere and I really can�t string out a few years of one-year replacements to get a tenure track job. It�s impossible to be that mobile with a kid. On the plus side, my husband is a freelancer, so at least we�re not looking at the nightmare of a two-job move. Third, I�m worried even if I get a job. Will I have the stamina to get through the tenure process? Am I too old to do this now? How hard is this going to be on my family? The perks of an academic job are pretty great, though. I think I�m just going to get out there and see what happens.

I�m also, however, looking at non-academic options. Because of my background in the arts and in fundraising, I�m interested in the possibility of a job at a foundation. Something like the MacArthur foundation, for example, which uses Ph.D.s for a variety of purposes. Or I might try to get back into the education wing of an orchestra or opera company. The career office at school regularly offers programs on working outside academia with a Ph.D. I plan to attend one or two to see if there are other options I�m not thinking of. I know some who are teaching at the high school level � private high schools often prefer Ph.D.s and pay decently, but that�s not really an option for my field of study, which seldom shows up on high school curricula. If worst comes to worst, I�ll try to publish my diss and start working on another book. But really, I�d like to have a job with health insurance and a regular paycheck to take some of the pressure off my husband so he has time to pursue some of his pet projects.

The only additional piece of advice I have for dandlioneyes is regarding starting a family, which she�s said in her diary that she�s interested in doing. Women get screwed in this regard in academia, which is why there are still relatively few of them out there. We have an unusually high number of women professors in my department but, to the best of my knowledge, only one of them has children. I definitely miss the freedom to work on what I wanted when I wanted to you, but a baby actually works quite well with a dissertation. I know many who�ve done it and I actually found kid+dissertation is a good combination. Yes, it gets frustrating to work in small spurts, but I have found that I am much more focused when I do sit down to work. Also my husband helps me a whole lot. Since he works at home, he�s able to take AJ for a couple of hours during the day for me to work before I�m comatose. Most of the female academics I know with kids have said it�s far easier to do it while you�re in grad school, because the pressures of tenure achievement are so taxing. It can certainly be done successfully either way, but it is a factor that should be figured into the plan.

Lately my anxiety about an academic job has increased due in part to several things in the news, one of which is the story of a blogger who calls herself The Invisible Adjunct, who after several years of not getting a permanent job has decided to call it quits. I think it�s good to have options. But burnout is perhaps unavoidable while writing, especially when faced with the real world stresses that drain even more of your energy. I do think my uncertainty about what next has slowed me down in these last months. The fear of finishing is real. But no dissertation will be perfect. Someone will always find something new. And with any luck, it won�t be your best work, but only the beginning. As several friends remind me regularly, it doesn�t have to be the best. It just has to be finished. Getting myself to visualize completion has been surprisingly difficult, but it is an important step, I think. Do any of you other academics have anything to add (if you made it this far!)?

Sorry for the long ramble today.

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