I Don’t Know If I Want To Be A Professor Anymore (Pt. III)

Photo by Erik Mayes

Photo by Erik Mayes

This is Part III of my four-part series, “I Don’t Know If I Want To Be A Professor Anymore” (see Part I and Part II). With all the processing I’d done to reach the point where I felt somewhat comfortable stating “I don’t know if I want to be a professor anymore,” and all of the specific ways in which my field can accommodate alt-ac work, I set out to try on this new identity at a conference.

Luckily, I picked a pretty fitting conference at which to do so: the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts (ICFA). Since I got roped into going by a bunch of fellow grad students at Indiana University a number of years ago, I’ve been a regular attendee at this conference on sci-fi, fantasy, horror, comics, film, fandom, the visual arts, and practically any other aspects of the fantastic mode that exists. And it’s truly an international conference; I see some of my favorite Scandinavians there.

In addition to ICFA being a conference where I feel as though I’m coming home each year I attend, it’s particularly well-suited to these kinds of post-ac/alt-ac conversations. While it’s an academic conference, wherein presentation submissions are refereed before being admitted, it’s not just professors and grad students in attendance. Many of the presenters are alt-ac in some sense, whether they’re trained in a different field than the conference theme, or actually employed outside the academia but attending to do the scholarship they love. The fields of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror studies are interdisciplinary, and have always had elements of a fan participation. And at ICFA, we have a number of guest artists, authors, and editors in attendance. Their presence as participants in the media we study makes for rich and lively discussions, as well as a conference program that includes more than just scholarly presentations. I got to meet author China Miéville and ask him about how he incorporates folklore in his writing, for instance, which was wonderful and fascinating.

I decided that ICFA was the perfect place for a soft coming-out for two reasons: I’m comfortable there, having attended for nearly a decade and built so many friendships and collegial relationships there, and it’s already a mixed group of academics in varying relationships to institutions as well as non-academics. That, and the processing of my academic angst had reached critical mass by the time the conference occurred, and I really wanted to talk to people about it. I felt ready to start moving in a new direction or three, and I needed to know whether all of my colleagues would suddenly hate me. The fact that fantasy studies isn’t my main field, though it overlaps with folklore studies in some areas, particularly areas in which I work, would also soften the blow if things went poorly.

Upon arriving at ICFA this past March, I told everyone whom I talked to that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a professor anymore. Depending on how long I’d known someone, and whether it was looking to be a brief “get to know you” conversation or a “let’s talk for ages” conversation, I went into varying amounts of detail about my reasons for reaching this decision. I outlined some of my plans for the future and asked for feedback where appropriate.

The experience was wonderful overall. Everyone was very supportive and encouraging. Most of the folks I talked to knew of the troubles with the academic job market, and it was interesting comparing notes with my colleagues from other countries. I had to fill them in on some of the specifics of our job market and, in turn, I got to learn about some of the reasons things are difficult in other places.

No one berated me for my choices or my experiences. But, I did get a few of those annoying “just hang in there” talks, which I guess are meant to be helpful, but miss the point that one can only “hang in” so much when one is struggling on various levels, including emotional and financial.

I found a lot of solidarity with people who are in similarly liminal situations, regardless of whether they had an academic career in mind. For instance, I talked to Kathryn Allen, who blogs at Bleeding Chrome (check out this great post on embracing ambition after a PhD), and she was really understanding and wonderful when listening to me rant about my career-shift ideas. And there are others whom I won’t name because not everyone’s out about their various career moves… but you all are awesome. Our poolside chats and discussions over drinks made me feel accepted, loved, and as though I am not alone in this struggle.

Getting to “try on” the new identity of post/alt/whatever-ac was a transformative experience for me. It demonstrated that people whose ideas and work that I respect still find value in me even when I am distancing myself from the institution and career that we’re all indoctrinated to venerate above all else. My precarity wasn’t seen as a personal failing, nor as a factor in evaluating the worth of my ideas.

I was a bit worried about whether I’d get very emotional about this topic (since my career angst has been tugging at my heart for a couple of years now), but things went pretty smoothly during the conference. I might’ve also been envisioning my time at ICFA as though I were playing a new character in a role-playing game, but that’s not terribly out there given the content of the conference. So I’ll go ahead and call it a success. (of course, it helped that I had a successful conference on a professional level, too, receiving many compliments on the research I presented and chairing a session that went wonderfully)

Tune in next week for the final post in this blog post series, which will address the “what now?” of coming to terms with the “I don’t know if I want to be a professor anymore” experience.

7 thoughts on “I Don’t Know If I Want To Be A Professor Anymore (Pt. III)

  1. I’m looking forward to the “what now” portion of this series. In my experience as a career counselor and coach, many PhDs struggle through this career transition. There’s no rule book but there are alme tried and true ways and communities to help ease you through the transition. Perhaps this comment is too mundane for some, but my concern about slow and painful transitions comes from seekng the financial hit that PhD career changers take during the process.

    I wish you the best of success. You are a PowerPhD!


    • Hi Fatimah – thank you for your comment! And yes, your experiences resonate with mine. It’s a slow and painful transition, and I think everyone has to figure out individual ways to handle it.


  2. One thing I got when telling people I was leaving was ‘oh but that’ll be such a loss to academia’ which almost felt like I was being berated for not hanging in there. It’s an interesting one! A lot of people I know who are still in academia really want to leave and are quite jealous actually I think – they just can’t work out how to get out.


    • Arg, I get that all the freakin’ time! It almost feels like an attempt to shame me into remaining in the profession. Still haven’t quite made sense of it; I mean, as an institution it doesn’t really seem that academia needs one cog over another.


  3. I have been on the margins of academia ever since my first job, post-Ph.D., in 1982–insulating and painting a house, then working as a gofer in a small media company at minimum wage as my then-wife wrote her dissertation. The following year, we together got a non-tenure track job at a tiny college on the edge of collapse (it ultimately didn’t). She and I quit academia forever to pursue holistic healing–it worked out for her (yoga teacher), but not for me (massage therapist), and I joined the ranks of the everywhere adjuncts. (See my friend Alex Kudera’s novel _Fight for Your Long Day_.) After getting another master’s–in creative writing–and my marriage ending, I did some years of adjuncting, then got a full-time-non-tenure track job, which I did for 15 years, winning Outstanding Teaching awards, till I said the wrong thing to the wrong person and was fired–excuse me, resigned in lieu of termination–and was unemployed for 5 months, finding out how few jobs there are for people with my qualifications. Some faculty at my old school petitioned to get me reinstated, which I am now, temporarily off-campus and fully online until next academic year. Highly respected, but held at a distance. Going through some major psychological traumas/transitions etc.

    So, basically, Jeana, I am under no more illusion about the exalted academic life, and although I realize that academic needs people as alive and highly qualified as you, at the same time I’d say if you have a place to transition to, do so in good health and with my blessings, as well as my hopes that you still come to ICFA!


    • Thank you for sharing about your experiences, Don! I had no idea that your path through academia was so long and troubled. I can see where the transitions you describe could have a lasting impact on you… it’s really tough to have it pointed out just how contingent we are in the system.

      I’ve enjoyed our conversations at ICFA over the years, and I hope to have many more! (I’m not *quite* ready to give up ICFA, though it causes some cognitive dissonance in me to pay so much to attend a conference that is no longer in a career I’m pursuing full-time)


      • Jeana, I have been coming to ICFA for almost every year since 1985, whether as a FTNTT, adjunct, or total academic. I find it rejuvenates me, and I enjoy keeping my hand in with projects like Jeffrey’s recent Monster Encyclopedia (5 entries!) and review articles for JFA. I love staying in touch with the authors, scholars, and others who make up the “cloud” that forms around this “strange attractor” (or would it be a “fuzzy set” instead of cloud?). As for the money, well, yes, I see that. To quote a song you probably never heard, “Call me…irresponsible…” (I used to hear it on late-night radio when I was a kid; it must have stuck…)


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