The Retirement Newsletter: The Great Academic Lie
Issue Number: -82 — why do I want to retire?
Welcome
Welcome to Issue -82 — The Great Academic Lie.
Sorry, this issue will be a little ‘ranty’. (Actually, it turned out to be a lot ranty.)
A couple of weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend who retired a year ago. My thinking was I would do a follow-up on how things were going — see the previous newsletters:
But then they asked me a series of questions that stopped me in my tracks:
”Why are you retiring? You have worked long and hard for your job, been poorly paid and spent years studying. Why throw all that away? You always wanted to do the job; why pack it in? You are one of the few people I know that was enthusiastic about their work and seemed to enjoy it.”
And that got me thinking, why am I retiring?
The Great Academic Lie
Some of my friends insist I never left school. And, they may have a point. I started school at five, and now over 50 years later, I'm still at "school" — albeit a “big school”, aka, university. So, how did I get here?
At school, I was always good at science. I found science fascinating. When I went to university, I decided to study biochemistry. I picked biochemistry because I couldn’t choose between my two favourite science subjects, biology and chemistry.
When I finished my first degree, I didn't know what I wanted to do. Did I want to work in industry? Did I want to stay in academia? Or did I want to do something different and move away from science? In the end, I thought I would give science in academia ago. Later in my career, as part of a sponsorship deal, I spent three months working in industry. It was a valuable experience, as it proved to me that industry and I were not a good fit.
I decided to work in academia because it was an environment with which I was familiar. I had just finished my first degree and thought I knew how universities worked. I considered universities a good place to work. The lecturers at the university I studied appeared to enjoy their work and to be having a good time.
When I started working in universities, on the whole, they were a good place to work. I felt I had job security, satisfaction, and an excellent final salary pension. There were issues around the constant fighting for funding for the research and my salary, but I was lucky because I worked for lecturers with a good record of attracting funding for their research. Early in my career, chasing the money for research meant relocating to a different city every 2 to 3 years. But I was willing to do that. It was all part of the adventure.
What is not generally realised is that working in the university sector is a defined path.
You get your first degree, which usually takes three years in the UK.
You then go on to do your PhD. In the UK, a PhD takes 3 to 4 years.
At this point, with at least two degrees (and many scientists have also picked up a master’s degree at the point), you would think you are a "qualified scientist”. Years ago, getting your PhD meant you were “qualified” and could become a lecturer. But, things have changed. Now you need to complete 3 to 6 years (sometimes even longer) of post-doctoral (post-doc) training before applying for a lectureship.
If you add it all up, you are looking at 10–15 years of training.
When I finished my five-year post-doc, I was still unsure about what I wanted to do. In my case, I was 15 years down the path, and I was still uncertain. Did I want to become a lecturer? My concern was teaching. Would I like it or hate it? Would I be any good?
During my PhD and post-doc, I gave many talks. So I was comfortable standing up in front of an audience and talking. But, teaching was a different story. How would I feel about teaching undergraduates?
Luckily for me, I discovered that I liked teaching. I enjoyed giving lectures, running seminars and tutorials, and running practical classes. I also realised I didn’t like marking and all the paperwork associated with teaching. I doubt that many lecturers do.
When I became a lecturer, I missed doing research full time. By the time I had become a lecturer, I had spent 15 years as a "bench scientist". That is, I spent my time doing research. Yes, getting funding for research was challenging. It involved a lot of grant writing, but I was 100% research. I was good at it. Well practised.
As soon as I became a lecturer, I found my time divided between teaching and research. And teaching was new. I wasn't as skilled at it or comfortable as I was with research. And because I enjoyed my teaching, and people thought I was good at it, I found that I got more and more teaching to do. And less and less time to do research.
These days, I'm no longer considered "research active" and am now a “lecturer who teaches”. I miss my research.
So, what is the great lie?
Well, there are many parts to it:
You can have a career in academia
Well, you can, but it is not easy. There is no defined path post-PhD, and it can quickly go wrong. There is also no longer any job security.
Your job is secure
An academic position used to be secure. We had tenure, and we were difficult to fire. Academic freedom has gone.
Now, if I put a foot wrong, HR will be knocking on my door.
Express the wrong opinion, write the wrong blog post or tweet, and I could get into trouble.
Plus, everything gets measured. Have you published enough? Have you brought in enough grant money? Do you get good scores and feedback on your teaching? A lot of this measurement stifles creativity.
For example, I have always had pretty decent teaching scores and feedback. Hence, there was no real pressure to change things. But, I felt there was a different and better way to deliver my teaching. But changing my teaching was scary because it could cause my scores to plummet and HR appearing at my door.
Then COVID-19 came along. We had to re-invent our teaching, and this allowed me to try new things. If they didn’t work, I could blame COVID-19.
The good news was they worked, and I will be keeping them in my teaching. But without COVID-19, I would never have dared try them.
Many of the great UK scientists of the past would now be viewed as ‘unfit’ for a modern university. Their ideas would be too whacky or take too long to get results. Their teaching scores would be too low.
It is sad.
Students want to learn
This is the thing that saddens me the most. A lot of my students would rather not be at university. They want to pass the course and get their degree. It has become less about the journey and more about the destination.
Twenty or so years ago, in the UK, the government decided that 50% of 18-year-olds should attend university. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve got nothing against opening up education to anyone. But not everybody needs to go to university. Not everybody benefits from going to university. Many of my students would rather not be at university and are only there to please their parents. It's very sad.
Over the last few years, I've had some of my students comment that they can't wait to graduate so that they can get on with the rest of their life. It is so sad that they feel university is a waste of time.
And this is the biggest lie — you must go to university to be successful. You don’t. Follow your passion. And if your passion is science, like me, you will have to go to university.
Set working hours
When I started working at universities, you put in the hours needed to get the job done — around 40 hours per week, usually more. As a lecturer, there was a relaxed attitude to annual leave. Your head of department knew if you were doing your job and when you were taking leave. My leave entitlement was a minimum number of days off per year. I couldn't take a holiday during the term, but I could at any other time in the year. Most of my colleagues and I never took our full leave entitlement.
Now, annual leave is measured by the hour. If I want to take a day off, I must book 7 hours of annual leave. While this may seem reasonable, I've never worked a seven-hour day in all my years in academia, always more.
You will get a good pension
When I started working at university, a standard line was, "well, the pay is not great, but you'll get a good pension”. Sadly, that is no longer true. The pay is awful, as is the pension. Over the last 40 years, the pension benefits have been eroded, and it is no longer a final salary pension.
Bottom line — would I do it all again?
If you have read the above, you might assume my answer to this question would be no. But, you would be wrong.
I have enjoyed working and teaching at universities. I've had opportunities and experiences that I would never have gained through any other form of employment. I've worked abroad. I've travelled widely on business. I've been to exciting places, and I've met great people. I've done some fun science.
I've had a blast.
It's a shame that the pay and conditions have been eroded over the last 30 years.
Would I embark on an academic career now? Sadly, no.
Why am I retiring?
I have had enough.
I have had enough of being scrutinised and commented on by my students. (You wouldn’t believe some free-text comments we get on our feedback.)
I have had enough of the paperwork, a lot of which seems pointless.
I have had enough of the endless meetings we now seem to have that achieve nothing.
I will miss my students and the teaching. But it is time for me to go.
Reflections
Wow! I feel better for writing the above. Thanks.
Every so often, there is nothing better than a good vent.
Next week
Next week is Issue -81, and I will be conducting a quarterly review.
Thanks
Thanks for taking the time to read this newsletter, and please don't hesitate to share it with your friends or on social media using the buttons below.
If you would like to say 'thanks' for the newsletter, why not buy me a cup of tea?
Until next time,
Nick
PS, If you have something you would like to contribute to the newsletter — a story, advice, anything — please get in touch.