Quitting My Academic Career Was the Toughest Decision of My Life

Understanding the painful realities of career transitions

We hear about people making career transitions all the time. Most often, these are about those who took over entrepreneurship and left their 9–5s behind. But these are not the only career transitions people are forced to make.

Getting my degrees

Growing up, I dreamed of becoming a scientist and traveling the world, studying evolution and conservation. I read about biology, watched all the documentaries available to a kid in the ’90s, and interviewed every biologist I ever met.

Nobody in my family had ever graduated high school; going to college was seen as the most significant deal anyone could take over. On the other hand, my family could not support me financially. I was lucky that I grew up in a country with a very inexpensive university education, but there were still bills to pay. Accomplishing my dream wasn’t going to be easy.

Against all odds, I made it happen. I completed my bachelor’s degree with honors. I spent a semester abroad in Finland. I earned my Master’s degree in Barcelona and moved to Australia and the US to complete my Ph.D. Then, I moved to the US, taking three different postdocs and/or teaching positions.

The reality of an academic career

My dream became a reality. I became a scientist, traveled the world, and became proficient in English. Even more important, I got many interviews for Tenure-Track positions in prestigious universities worldwide.

And then, my children came along. And with them, a harrowing reality about my chosen career: they were incompatible.

Academic positions are not well compensated. A newly hired professor with years of research and teaching experience at a well-known university in the US Midwest won’t make more than $75k in my field. As a postdoc, I wasn’t making more than $50k.

Unfortunately, I was living in the United States, where daycare and preschool are not free like in Europe, where I come from. Daycare for two little children would cost us a whole salary, and one salary wouldn’t pay all the bills. For the same reason, neither my husband nor I could just quit our jobs.

It was crystal clear; we needed better-paid jobs, and academia wouldn’t offer that option. However, we were stubborn. We wondered whether we could make it work if we both got prestigious positions and could push through just another year.

But we were hit with another reality after talking to our friends who were landing their desired Tenure-Track positions. They complained that all their time was spent on teaching duties. However, teaching wouldn’t decide whether a professor gets tenure. Institutions value how many peer-reviewed articles you publish, how many Ph.D. students you mentor, how much money you bring to the university from grants, whether you do outreach and the service you provide to your department.

To make sure they ticked all the necessary boxes for the tenureship requirement, they felt forced to work extra hours. 60-hour work weeks were the norm amongst our peers. But we had two young children. We were already sleep-deprived; we couldn’t reduce our sleep hours to take care of the children and meet our academic goals.

What kept me from quitting earlier?

You may think that all of this combined, especially considering how little an academic makes per hour if we account for the extra hours worked, would make my decision easier. But that wasn’t the case for three main reasons.

First, as I mentioned earlier, science was my dream, which I have worked towards since childhood. Do you know how hard it can be to quit your dream career after you have achieved it? Quitting academia didn’t just mean quitting a job or a career; it was saying goodbye to my childhood dream.

Second, during our long years as academics, we got the false impression that anything that didn’t look like a research position was failing. There was no middle way. Nobody ever talked to us about fulfilling alternative paths besides working for a university, research institution, or museum. They also spoke about those who quit as the ones who “didn’t make it.”

Third, everything I did aimed to improve my Google Scholar profile. I published more papers, books, and book chapters in the peer-reviewed literature. I attended conferences and presented my results, applying for grants to keep working on my science. All my hard work was going to get lost. Everything I had built was going to take me nowhere.

Just the idea of dropping off the academic train made me incredibly sad. It was not just quitting a career; it was quitting my identity. My friends were academics, and I identified as an academic in public spaces. I didn’t know how things worked outside of academia. Did my skills even translate to anything outside research institutions? What could I do with my academic skills?

Life after academia

This is a story for another day, but after seeking help and doing the proper evaluation, I could understand the vast advantage my academic years gave me in the job market. However, I needed to learn how to translate my skills so that I could use them and others could understand their value. Luckily, being a fast learner is a well-cultivated skill in academia.

So I learned, and then I learned more. I took courses and certifications. I tried hard, faced rejection, and learned important lessons the hard way. But I eventually landed what I believe is the perfect career for myself and my family.

I now work doing environmental assessments to support the transition to green energy. I get to do scientific research and help take the necessary actions to prevent harm to endangered species and ecosystems. And my academic skills are proving to be a valuable asset to my position.

Final thoughts

In a future story, I will discuss the steps I took to help me with my transition and the considerations I made when choosing my following path. But before I conclude, I want to address the question I imagine is circling in your head: Do I regret transitioning to another sector?

Not a single minute of my life.

I started a new career path that paid me better and didn’t make me quit my dream of working as a scientist. All it took was thinking outside the box and being very honest with myself, my skills, and my needs. And more important, it didn’t affect my identity as much as I feared it would. I’m still a scientist, and I’m now doing incredible things with measurable impacts.

Thanks for reading. I wish you all the best if you are contemplating a career transition from academia or any other sector. While scary, it could be just what you need right now. And remember: we are not giving up our dreams but redesigning them.