Escape the Ivory Tower

Debt and the PhD

If you don’t follow Karen Kelsky of The Professor Is In, she’s doing an amazing thing: collecting the information on the debt thousands of PhDs have accumulated in the process of getting that degree.

I know I had a lot of shame wrapped up in the debt I accumulated. I was “fully funded,” but I knew exactly one person who was able to get by on the stipends we earned. That she was able to do it convinced me I should be able to do it, but I wasn’t.

We earned $800 a month. I lived in a college town that is miles cheaper than any city, but even though I took on managing the apartment building I lived in (free rent!), it wasn’t enough. I had two surgeries during grad school. I had ongoing health care costs. Food allergies meant the cheap stuff wasn’t going to sustain me. Books cost $500 a semester. Maintaining any kind of mental health meant leaving the house and doing things with friends. My car broke down. I had to buy clothes to bolster my own authority, being a short, young and young-looking woman. $800 a month just didn’t cut it.

I wasn’t able to make it work, and I was incredibly privileged. I got out of undergrad debt free, because my parents had saved for college and because I did undergrad in three years to maximize that money. (My undergrad had a set fee for “full time,” so 15 credits cost the same as 21.) I was fortunate to be able to find lots of flexible work during undergrad to pay my bills. I got full funding for my graduate program. I owned my car (thanks to my father). My dad helped me fund the job search, and my mom bought me suits. I knew, at the end of the day, that my parents could and would help if things went terribly awry.

Short of a major trust fund, that’s a pretty good setup. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough before the market got so unbelievably terrible, when everyone I knew got some kind of full-time, TT job, even if it wasn’t the one they wanted most. It wasn’t enough even when getting a job wasn’t a dream.

We talk sometimes about academic salaries and how abysmal they are in certain fields. They’re worse, much worse, for adjuncts. But we don’t talk about the debt it takes to even get that far, because our culture has so much money shame.

Kelsky’s survey showed that it’s not uncommon for PhDs in the humanities and social sciences to end up with six-figure debts. When full rides don’t actually cover all the expenses and you’re not legally allowed to work elsewhere*, the system is set up to put you into debt.

You did not fail. You did not do it wrong. The model, that old apprenticeship model that assumes you’ll achieve master status with all of the perks thereof, was never true, and it’s even less true now.

*My assistantship contract actually spelled this out. I had a few colleagues do it anyway, and the department head looked the other way, but it was risky beyond simply limiting the amount of time you had available for school and sleep.

How myths and mismatches make you unhappy

I would argue that 99% of the people who are unhappy in academia are unhappy for two reasons: they’re buying into an academic myth that doesn’t serve them, or they’re suffering a mismatch they aren’t acknowledging.

It’s easy to do – despite the very real organizational nature of higher education, academia still runs, to a large extent, on the stories it tells about the nature of a professorial career. Not only that, but the internal logic of the whole shebang suggests that the quality of any given job is directly proportional to the prestige of the institution that holds it.

Have you noticed what’s missing?

Paul Grilley, a yoga teacher I love, repeatedly quips that “people vary.” We can’t all do or train for downward dog the same way, and we aren’t interchangeable cogs in the higher ed machine. We’re going to fit some spaces better than we fit others, and we’re going to fit into some stories better than we fit into others.

That’s just reality. People vary. Jobs vary. Opportunities vary. Departments vary.

The unhappiness comes in when we think that we should fit a situation when we just don’t. When we try to force ourselves to ignore the discrepancy between the story of academia and our lived experience of it. When we blame ourselves, instead of a situation, for things that don’t work out as planned.

Awareness is the hack

If you can explore your unhappiness and figure out what two things are in conflict (a story and your experience; your career needs and the available jobs; your personality and the department), then you can figure out a way through to somewhere that feels a hell of a lot better.

Sometimes that involves leaving academia – but sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, simply recognizing what myths you’ve been holding on to, examining their basis in reality, and letting go of everything that doesn’t fit your experience is enough to dissolve the misery. Sometimes it means acknowledging where you don’t fit your current situation and searching out a new one, one that does fit you better.

No matter where it leads, looking carefully at the myths and mismatches that are in play can help you find a way through to happiness that doesn’t involve trying to become someone you aren’t.

Jo and I have found a way to help

It can be hard to find a way in to the myths and mismatches you’re in the middle of, because they’re defined as reality and so are invisible. It’s easier to have someone else point them out and then see what might be in play for you.

That’s why Jo VanEvery and I have put together a free eCourse on the most common myths and mismatches we’ve encountered as academic coaches. You can read more about it (and sign up if you’re interested!) by clicking here.

However you do it, if you’re unhappy in academia, I encourage you to take a good look at the expectations you’re bringing to bear on your situation and to question whether or not they’re actually something you want to hold on to. I’d bet good money that somewhere, there’s a myth or a mismatch contributing to your unhappiness, and if you can dig it out and bring it into the light, you’re halfway to a solution.

The problem of smartness

We have this idea that smart people belong in school. It’s as though we think that somehow school is the very best use of their talents, their ideas, their innovation. We think smartness is rarified, special, different, and so it must be kept in a place that is rarified, special, different.

If the last twenty years have taught us anything, however, it’s the power of smart people outside of school.

Steve Jobs? While I wouldn’t want to sit next to him at a cocktail party, I’m not sure anyone can deny that he’s really fucking smart. Atul Gawande? Really fucking smart. Joan Didion? Really fucking smart. Thich Naht Hahn? Really fucking smart.

All of these people — and countless others — have changed the world by bringing their smartness to bear on questions, contemplations, and innovations outside the classroom, outside the lecture hall, outside the lab, outside the venerated halls of thinkers. And we are better for it.

So why are we holding on to the idea that the place for smart people is school? And why are we telling ourselves that if we’re smart, we must necessarily go for the highest degree possible?

So often, that degree is supposed to reassure us that we’re smart. It’s supposed to be the unassailable proof that we’re smart, so that if we screw something up, if we make a mistake, if we try something and fall flat on our face, we can still point to the degree to prove that we’re really smart, underneath whatever just happened. And we’re mostly convincing ourselves.

What if we were able to sit in ourselves and have confidence in our own smartness, enough to follow our hearts to what we really want to do instead of what we’re expected to do? What if we were able to trust that screwing up while we experiment is, in fact, part of our smartness? What if we would could bring our smartness to bear on whatever it is that makes us passionately, excitedly happy?

For some people, yes, that will be academia. But not everyone. And if you’re in academia or contemplating academia because you’re smart and people think that, therefore, you belong in academia, please, consider what you want and where you fit into the world.

Because we need your smartness. It just may be even smarter to put it to use elsewhere.

Thanks to Jo VanEvery and Sam Ladner for the Twitter conversation that sparked this!

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