Employment

School’s Out: A Postdoc’s Life
(Year I)

March, 2011 · By Justin Bengry

Wow, is it really the end of the (Canadian) semester? Well, almost. Classes end next week, my students’ final is a week later, I’m at a conference by the end of the month, a stop at home, and then Europe one more week after that. Whew…not a moment too soon!

Everyone here is feeling the strain, and straining for the relief that the end of term promises. The winter has been unseasonably cold and long in Saskatoon. Many of us are looking forward to research trips abroad. And of course, grading responsibilities and other duties tend to hit hardest at the end of the term.

Reflecting on the year behind me though, I’ve gained so much at the University of Saskatchewan. I’m surrounded by generously supportive colleagues who have never wavered in helping me adjust to the unfamiliar life of a junior scholar. I can’t speak highly enough of our Chair, support staff, History Department faculty and grad students, and my fellow postdocs, all of whom have welcomed me and answered innumerable questions and requests with poise and kindness. My postdoc supervisor, a kind and gentle elder scholar, has become a mentor and friend. And with their collective help I’ve gained professional experience, credibility, increased my publishing output, and laid the foundations for a potential future in academia. I owe them more than I can express, and this blog post is in part a thank-you.

But this year has also been a challenge, and I definitely feel I’ve needed the entire year to settle in to Saskatoon. When I arrived I looked forward to having the best of both worlds as a postdoc: I could interact with the faculty while still relating to the graduate students. In reality, it wasn’t so simple, and the postdoc doesn’t immediately fit in either group. That’s the part you have to learn on the ground. A postdoc is (at least at first) a solitary experience. It takes a painfully long time to build up relationships and connections in a new department when you’re neither student nor professor. I’ve felt completely welcomed in my department from the first day, but it really is only in the last month or two that I have really felt a part of the department.

Teaching plays a big role in building relationships and sustaining that feeling of being part of something. My own work and research is largely independent, but teaching is a collaborative exercise. I’ve welcomed the advice of current profs, discussed teaching strategies with grad students, and simply been in the department more as an instructor. Without teaching this term, I might be further along in my research and revisions, but I’d also be more dislocated and detached from any intellectual or other community at the university.

A postdoc, however, really is the most incredible opportunity, particularly these days as competition for professional positions in academia becomes ever more fierce. But future employment aside, a postdoc is also an amazing opportunity to evaluate your own goals and values. How does academia look from the inside when you’re no longer a student? How does it feel to be at the front of the class with no safety net or anyone to defer to?

The smartest things the organizers of my current postdoc did was to make it two years long. If it were ending now, I’d feel as if the rug were being pulled out from under me just as I was gaining balance. I’m incredibly fortunate, having built these connections and friendships, professional skills and intellectual output, still to have a second year to continue forward. So, here’s to A Postdoc’s Life, Year II!

(To be continued…)

This blog was originally published on History Compass Exchanges on
31 March 2011.

It’s a Postdoc’s Life

September, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

I’ve landed! I’m a Saskatooner, no, scratch that. I’m a Saskatoonian. Hmmm, not sure about that one either. I don’t know yet what we call ourselves here. But I’ve got an apartment and a local café. I know where to buy wine (critical) and how to find my office (essential). No more the uncertainty or instability of an unemployed academic for me. No thank you! I’m now officially a postdoctoral fellow in History at the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon. The “Paris of the Prairies”…my Lonely Planet guide tells me.

Blogging has taken a back seat for a couple weeks in favour finding an apartment, buying furniture, and getting to know my department. But now I’m back with a new focus on post-doctoral life, projects, and survival.

The first thing I’ve discovered as a postdoc is that you have to hit the ground running. The term only started a few days ago, but already I’m on track to give the first talk at the department’s research seminar in a few weeks. I’ve also been brought on as the Saskatchewan organizer of a yearly bi-university, multi-provincial graduate history conference. This in addition to giving a paper in Montreal next month, and submitting a journal article in November. No rest for the wicked!

The second thing is that no one knows quite where the postdoc fits in the academic pecking order, or what benefits the postdoc can derive from this unsure status. And of course it varies from department to department, university to university. With apologies to Britney Spears for the paraphrasing: I’m not a girl grad student, not yet a woman professor. So, neither student nor faculty, I’m still working on finding out who to ask for conference funding, or how much of my extended healthcare is covered.

But after 6 months of uncertainty and break from academia, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m thrilled to be back in an environment I know and thrive in, with kind and generous faculty support, and welcoming colleagues who have already made me feel at home in Saskatoon.

And Wikipedia tells me that I’m actually a Saskatonian now.

This post was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
9 September 2010.

On Luck, or How we Succeed in Academia

July, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

I’m in a more contemplative mood of late.A single event has changed the trajectory of my life. I was ready for one path, preparing for the struggle and strain of starting again, and then…and then I got lucky.

Among those of us applying for a particular job or postdoc, any one of several dozen applicants would be perfectly qualified and able to fulfill the terms of almost any appointment. Still, impressions at an interview, good or bad days, and nerves at a teaching demonstration or job talk all influence the final outcome. And none of these are static indicators. A lot comes down to luck.

I’m thinking about this more lately because of the great luck that has befallen me. After living on credit cards and borrowed money, increasing my debt, and sinking further into despair, a lifeline was thrown to me. Luck has chosen to take me to the University of Saskatchewan for a two-year postdoc.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t feel that I lack control over my life. I’ve created the conditions in which luck could find me. I’ve worked hard to get here. I’ve published, taught, and made connections across three countries. I’ve bled to get here.

But so have hundreds of others. Some of them are more qualified than I am for positions; some might be less qualified. But in this case I’m the lucky one. Some small thing distinguished me from them in this competition. It could have been key phrases in my proposal, the combination of areas I research, particular “synergies” with existing faculty members. I don’t know. But it worked to my advantage.

But this experience has made me think about the profession of academia, its randomness, and luck. I take credit for my hard work for five years to get here. I give credit to those innumerable friends, colleagues, and family who have supported me intellectually and personally even longer. But in the end I’m no different than 100s of other aspiring academics, thousands of other scholars, tens of thousands of other men and women who want to make a living engaging with intellectual questions.

The experience has humbled me. I’m lucky. I have security and stability for two years. My shoulders have dropped at least two inches with that assurance. I’ve started sleeping the full night through for the first time in months. It didn’t have to be this way. I was ready to forge a different path. Success is luck. And in this job climate and economic downturn, we all need a little more luck.

This post was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
3 July 2010.

Young yoga entrepreneur teaches fellow yoga enthusiasts to practice their passion

May, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

Many of us have a passion for something, but we never really take it seriously as more than a hobby.

But what if our passion and our work were the same thing? Entrepreneurs can live their passion every day and incorporate it into a career. Turning your passion into your career, however, is a challenging task requiring focus, motivation, hard work, and a measure of luck.

Asia Nelson is a certified advanced yoga instructor, yoga teacher trainer and director of her own company, Pranalife Yoga, based in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario. She has been a certified yoga instructor since 2003 and started Pranalife Yoga in 2006.

Q. How did you develop an interest in yoga?
A. I first got into yoga accidentally. During undergrad, I’d signed up for a Tai Kwan Do class and they made me spar a green belt on the first day. I thought, “This isn’t for me,” and when I couldn’t get a refund for the class I transferred into yoga because I thought it sounded interesting. It was probably the most life-altering “accident” of my life thus far!

Q. What inspired you to start your own yoga business?
A. Truthfully, I hated Cubicle Nation so much I had to come up with some way to make a living that didn’t involve working for someone else. I spent some time considering my skills and passions and what opportunities I saw to apply them, and Pranalife was born.

Q. What aspects of entrepreneurship appeal to you most? Which are the hardest?
A. The hardest parts of entrepreneurship are in some ways the most appealing. My major purpose in life is to grow, so every challenge is positive for me. For example, my favourite part of being an entrepreneur is being self-led, which is also one of the hardest things to do well long-term. Sometimes it’s just easier to be part of a team, but I thrive on the discipline needed to succeed in entrepreneurship, which I think is one of the toughest fields out there.

Q. How have you applied your education and training to your business?
A. I hold an honours BA in English literature and an MA in rhetoric and communications design. I draw from what I learned in my degrees for everything from staying disciplined to research and writing skills to the mental acuity needed to get things done well, even when they’re not fun (which would describe 90% of the last half of writing my MA thesis).

Right out of my MA, I held a job as an interaction design advisor for a marketing company and, although my fit with a cubicle was terrible (I get hives at the idea of an office job), I gleaned incredible knowledge about how to suss out customer desire and innovate on business design from having had that role.

Q. What is unique about your yoga business?
A. Everything I do is about moving from good togreat. This shows up most strongly in my Teacher Training. I’ve done a number of things with the Teacher Training to build a truly great program for my teachers.

Most yoga programs cost $3,000-$5,000 paid up front. You do the entire training in one shot and, when you’re done, you’re on your own. If it turns out you don’t actually want to teach, well I guess you’re out a few grand and a few hundred hours.

Not with Pranalife. I divide the training into 60 hour modules to cut down on the up-front cost and to give them time to practice what they’ve learned before going further.

I’m passionate about supporting my instructors and I do so in innovative and useful ways. The result is that Pranalife yoga certification means you’re going to be great, and you’re now part of a business with integrity.

Q. What has been your greatest obstacle in developing Pranalife?
A. I’m a perfectionist and an overachiever so if I’m not careful I end up doing everything myself because I assume it’s the only way to get it done right. At times I’ve become the bottleneck in my own business, and so I’ve been learning how else to run things so that I don’t get in my own way.

Q. What has been your greatest success with Pranalife?
A. The yoga teacher training is what I’d call my most successful pairing of my passion with my skill set. It does well financially, it excites and challenges me, and it creates amazing experiences and opportunities for others interested in and dedicated to yoga.

Q. What advice would you give other young entrepreneurs embarking on a similar path?
A. Entrepreneurship is for a certain breed and very few people do it, or do it well. Be sure it’s really what you want to do because it’s very demanding. If you can be content with a stable job that brings you decent money and a pension, then you’ll probably default to that at some point, so just do that.

If reading that last sentence makes you afraid to risk it, then I’m right. If reading that pisses you off and makes you want to prove that you’re an entrepreneur, you probably are. There’s only one way to find out.

This post was originally published at TalentEgg on 28 May 2010.

After the Academy: Changing the Culture of Humanities PhD Programs

March, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

As many of us struggle to define our professional identities after graduate school, it is clear that we could do more to aid this goal before we finish our degrees. But we cannot do it alone. Several comments from my last “After the Academy” post brought up important issues in this regard. We need departmental support for options beyond the academy. We also need to foster a culture that values these options. How should we train and support graduate students to take the fullest advantage of non-academic and non-tenure track opportunities while remaining committed to a rigorous program of study that prepares them for university careers as well?

Fellow History Compass blogger Jana Remy had one suggestion. She wished to see as much enthusiasm for announcing non-tenure track appointments on her department’s mailing list as tenure track jobs. This is really a simple practice to change, but it could powerfully impact the culture of a department. Announcing hirings of graduates in government, business, journalism, and public history positions (among the many, many other possibilities out there) treats those positions and career paths as genuine choices, possibilities, and even successes. When departments, faculty, and graduate students fail to celebrate these successes, those silences say something. We need to transform the culture of our departments to recognize and celebrate opportunity, rather than shielding us from options.

Even fields within history, however, do not always get there due. Commenter Lizzie added that greater respect for public history could open doors as well. My alma mater, UC Santa Barbara, is home to the oldest public history program in the country and the journal The Public Historian. It offers one the leading programs in public history available, but beyond students enrolled in the public history program little attention is given to career opportunities in this direction. As Lizzie suggests, promotion of public history programs and internships could go a long way.

I see an opportunity here to add “skills” requirements and certifications to history PhDs. The UNC Chapel Hill Department of History has already begun a similar project, replacing multiple language requirements with training in a research skill or theoretical perspective for students whose research does not require multiple language proficiencies. A university like UCSB, with strengths in public and oral history, could go even further, offering certificates in public history or oral history training to students who have completed sufficient coursework and/or fieldwork. If I can complete a Doctoral Emphasis in Feminist Studies (and I did), I should have the option of similar accreditation for public history or oral history from a department with those strengths. This could provide a model for other departments with other strengths to offer graduate students skills in a manner easily recognized outside the academy.

Wider access to public history skills could forge networks and links to be mined upon graduation. Oral history certificates could offer credibility for journalism, government, and social justice work. Internships in any of these would offer that elusive “real world” experience in addition to the academic credentials we already have.  A culture within history departments that publicizes, values, and celebrates these options would make it easier for us all to access them and take advantage of greater career opportunities. Are there other “skills” we could seek or policies we could promote in our departments to support and encourage a range of graduate career options?

Also see:

National Council on Public History

Doing Public History: A UK site that explores use and concerns of public history from Royal Holloway, University of London.

Public History IndeX: A UC Santa Barbara blog that examines issues concerning practitioners of public history.

This blog was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
11 March 2010.

After the Academy: Whither next?

February, 2010 · By Justin Bengry

Whether it’s Stockholm Syndrome, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or Survivor’s Guilt, those of us considering a career outside academia find it nearly impossible to imagine just what life after the academy might actually look like. Part of this is because we find it hard to envision a career path beyond the university. We spend at least a decade sheltered in our departments, surrounded by and receiving our career socialization from other scholars. At the same time, academic departments are rarely the most supportive environments for discussions of non-academic career paths. Having just completed fourteen years of university in the middle of a major recession, I nonetheless see this as a time of opportunity rather than desperation. But I still ask myself, whither next?

I would love an academic job. I’m also a realist, and realistically it’s lean times. Most of us with PhDs will ultimately find employment outside the academy. Graduate school trained me to use proper Chicago citation style, how to manage a classroom, and the intricacies of navigating foreign archives, but I had little preparation for life beyond the university walls—until now. I’m suddenly tallying my “transferable skills,” creating professional networks in multiple arenas, and forging an online presence to promote myself as a scholar? a writer? a researcher? a photographer? It’s daunting and exciting. And there’s a wealth of online support.

Interviewed for Sabine Hikel’s “Leaving Academia” podcast, Krista Scott-Dixon relayed her own trajectory to a non-academic career. She discovered that it wasn’t a precise occupation she was searching for. Naming a job title didn’t resonate with her. Instead, she realized that seeking a path that allowed her to do the values that were important to her, rather than the tasks that she was trained for, would lead to her ideal future. She’s now a web/magazine editor and research director.

These sites like Hikel’s that have sprung up to support a generation of scholars who are moving beyond academia clearly speak to an important issue. Names of some, like “Sellout,” make clear the associations and fears they seek to dismantle. As soon as we start talking about leaving the academy, there’s a sense of failure, or of accepting failure by discussing possibility. This needs to be overcome! And advice like Scott-Dixon’s makes it easier to speak openly about PhD grads’ possibilities, whether inside or outside academe.

I found Scott-Dixon’s advice especially resonant. Beyond the generic “professor,” many of us have not actively formulated a career goal, myself included. But I do know what I value: social justice, the power of language, desirable location, and challenge. Thinking in terms of values spoke to me more than most things I’ve read about possibilities beyond the Ivory Tower. But it’s not an answer, it’s just a signpost, and this series “After the Academy” will trace where the sign(s) point.

This blog was originally published at History Compass Exchanges on
25 February 2010.