I took five years off after graduating college. Well, that is a misleading statement; it wasn't like I was doing anything fun or wild or irresponsible. I worked for half that time as a research assistant, trying to decide if I liked it enough to pursue a PhD or MD; and the other half I spent working in the family business.

Interestingly enough, it wasn't my time in science that convinced me that I wanted to be a scientist; it was my time away from it. I actually missed it. And so even though I had gotten out, I had made my escape… I found myself begging graduate schools to "please take me back!" At first, when they did, I felt smug: I was older and wiser then my classmates and therefore more confident (arrogant?). But as the years have passed I have begun to wonder… what if I hadn't come back? And, did I ever really leave? Did I ever really allow myself the possibility of pursuing a different path?

The honest answer is… no. Ever since I was five and I declared to my uncle that I was going to find a cure for cancer, I have been working towards that goal. It sounds cliché, but it is the truth. My path was always laid out in front of me, and even when I supposedly "took time" to "find myself", all I really did was find a detour that led me straight back to where I'd started… just a few years behind.

Now I find myself faced with a new fork in the road. I am looking for tenure track faculty positions, yes, but I am looking at places that are not research institutions. I am looking at places where my primary responsibility is not to do research, but to teach. GASP! To many of my classmates and colleagues- and, even more accurately (ironically enough), to many of my own teachers- this might seem like I am settling. That I am not realizing my full potential. That I am giving up. But, given the chance to find my own path before and not taking it, I realize now that there are still so many forks in the road, and I have to go in the direction that will lead to my own sense of fulfillment.

So I continue to move forward. I like what I am doing, I do. But… I still wonder. What if I had started college as an "undecided"? Where would I be today? And I realize that as much as I want to train good scientists, the one thing I really hope to teach all my students is… to explore all the possibilities.

A few weeks ago I spent a great deal of time preparing for my interview and my presentation, and I though all went very well. I was extremely disappointed when, two weeks later, I got the rejection letter.

Then I found out there was an internal candidate. Need I say more?

Why, yes, in fact, I do. Because it doesn't end there. However, as this is my future employer, this post will not be a rant, rather, it will be a celebration. Long and short, I have been hired part time for the next year and- if all goes well- full time for the year after.

The greatest irony is that the first class I am teaching will be on cell culture.

Maybe I'll learn something useful.

To some extent our gender will always affect our work; that isn't sexism, that is life. My husband didn't have to carry around 30 extra pounds, run to the bathroom every hour, or modify his work practices to avoid exposure of our unborn baby to hazardous chemicals or radioactive substances. He didn't have to write detailed to-do lists at the end of every day just in case he went into labor that night, and he didn't have to stay out of work for 6 weeks after finally giving birth. He didn't have to drive to work exhausted after being woken three times during the night to breastfeed an infant, and then stop what he was doing twice a day to go pump. As much as we might not want them to, these things do impact your career. And that, right there, is the problem; not that they impact your career, but that we don't accept that they will.

The fact is, when I was a technician and then a graduate student, there were very few women in tenure track faculty positions at my university. As a technician, I worked for the only female faculty member in the whole department. The whole OB/GYN department! While I was there she was undergoing all sorts of hormone treatments in an ultimately futile attempt to get pregnant- she had put it off until it was too late. Later, as a graduate student in a different department, things were a little bit better. There was not one, but two female faculty. Neither of them had children.

All of the married men did.

However, in my class, in my department, there were only female students. In our program as a whole, the majority were female. That is a trend that has continued. My graduate lab had a male PI… and the rest of us were female. My current post-doc lab finds itself in the same situation. In a way, that is hopeful; so many women being trained, some of them must succeed. The problem is this: the reason there were no men was because they all went out and got jobs.

The women, though equally talented, had more to worry about: their spouse's career; the extra time it took to have children; geographical limitations. It's nice to say "don't let these things impact your career choices" but the reality is that they do. I'm sure I would have a faculty job right now, maybe not at Major Research University, but certainly at Small Liberal Arts College… if I was willing to move. But I'm not. And I still have to reassure myself that That is OK. I am driven; I do long for success; I applaud those who have achieved it; but don't denigrate me for the sacrifices I chose to make. Because it is a sacrifice.

The hardest thing about it is not looking at it as a failure. It's not that I have failed to get a job… it is that I have succeeded to make a Home.

The other kind of discrimination that really gets to me, and no one talks about, is career discrimination: the idea that of these alternative careers (by which I mean, anything other than a full time tenure track position at MRU) is really just the backup when you fail to get a 'real' job. When I tell my PI "I made the top four for this faculty position at small college" and he responds with the completely unenthusiastic "Oh. Well, it's too bad you'll be leaving science now", I cringe. Gender discrimination stinks, but career discrimination affects us all. We need to understand that there are many different definitions of success; we need to embrace our strengths and let them take us to the best path for ourselves. We need to understand what it takes to be a successful scientist/mother, and then define that as success. Then the guilt and strings will stop holding us back, and we can be free to work on removing those gender gaps.

No, I haven't been rejected. Yet. But... my express fedex package containing my application packet didn't arrive as scheduled due to a Delivery Exception.

What was the exception you ask?

Oh. Just that it is Columbus Day and the BUSINESS WAS CLOSED.

So, although I am pretty sure I will not be penalized for the fact that they made their deadline a day with NO MAIL DELIVERY and, also, did not provide an email... I am frantically trying to get ahold of someone... anyone... to confirm the imminent arrival of my application first thing tomorrow. Also, two of my letters are being emailed in, which required that I find an email to have them sent to.

However, it turns out that my graduate PI has a connection. Actually, I had a connection, but I didn't know it, so my graduate PI had to make the connection known to me. So I have emailed this person, and am now waiting anxiously to hear back from them. The clock is ticking and I keep checking my email. Every time I see the mail icon in my shortcut bar, my heart leaps into my throat but so far, no dice.

AAAAAGGGHHH! I thought I was all set, and now this stress...

I'm not trying to beat a dead horse, but I'm still reeling from the recent advancement of my career from "eternal post-doc" to "faculty applicant".

OK, I haven't gotten hired yet. I haven't even gotten an interview yet. But somehow, the process of putting together the application made me realize that:
a. I really do want to do that.
b. I am ready to do that.
c. I am a pretty good candidate for that.

I am looking at myself in a whole new light. I feel new respect for myself.

Just wait until the rejections start rolling in.

I'm having trouble turning my brain off.

I've reached a milestone in my career. No, I haven't gotten hired or fired anywhere, made any amazing new discoveries or been awarded any great honors.

It's like, when you are driving down the road and you think you have miles before your next turn... and then just as you are about to pass it, you realize you need to make a rapid turn to the right. You make the turn and you head on down the next road, but your adrenaline is still pumping a little and you have that little high of part relief part excitement that you made it. But the thing is, you haven't actually arrived anywhere yet.

Well, that's me.

What I have done is send in my first application for a faculty position. I decided pretty close to the last minute to submit an application, mainly because I had just gotten settled in a path of family first, work second. So when I finally made the decision to go for it, it didn't leave me much time to get everything together.

Over the period of four days I gathered my letters of recommendation, updated my CV, wrote a research plan, and came up with a teaching statement. It sounds so simple when I write it like that, but anyone who has been through it knows... its not. At least, not for me. I mean, I had to summarize all my past and future research in 3 pages! And then come up with a teaching statement. What the heck is that?

But now, it is done. Juliette came with me to FedEx this morning, we got there at 11:30. Thirty minutes to spare before the final drop off for express shipping, so my packet can arrive monday morning.

Next time... if there is one... it will be a lot easier. In a weird way, I feel like my part is done, that's it, close the book and move on. The reality is that I really really hope to get called in to give a job talk... I'm already practicing in my head.

But it's almost 11:00 on a saturday, and really I just want to read my trashy "Anita Blake Vampire Hunter" novel and not think about anything intelligent.

(ah, the dichotomy. Tenure track faculty position on one hand, trashy vampire novel on the other. Hey, they are both about strong, career minded women.)

I went touring a new day care center for my 3 year old yesterday, and I was happy to see that they have- in addition to the play area, the art area, the block area, the reading area, and the sensory table area- a science area. Yep, a whole area (read: table and bookshelf) devoted to science. Start em young!

Wait. Do I want my daughters to follow in my footsteps?

The sad answer to that question is... no. Unless they really really really insist. It is a tough profession, especially for women. I was sitting at a seminar two days ago in which the only female that made the cut in the search for a new faculty member was presenting her work. I sat in the back, so as to leave the front and center open for the old boys network - I mean- current faculty. Yes, those chairs were all filled with ... men. No, wait, I apologize; In the interests of full disclosure, I should tell you that there was one female. I'd never seen her before, but apparently there is a female faculty. They kept interrupting the candidate with questions- a normal occurance in this sort of situation. But what is not normal is that twice when they stopped her to ask a question, one of the other faculty would answer it, and then they all went off on a discussion amongst themselves while she stood at the front of the room perplexed and desperately trying to get a grasp of the situation. She seemed quite intelligent, her research is very good, she has papers in top notch journals (Science, Cancer Cell). They had invited her to come. And then they barely gave her a chance to speak.

This didn't happen with the men. She seemed equally competent, but the faculty didn't seem interested.

I sat in the back, and I realized that if I really wanted the job I wouldn't let that bother me. But I also decided that I could never have that job, when, 15 minutes later I snapped out of a glassy eyed daze just in time to hear the conclusions, and I realized that I have a hard enough time staying alert during these things, forget about asking intelligent questions of the speaker.

Then one of the professors made a completely inappropriate 'joke' and I began to wonder... why would I want to work with these people?

So here I sit, tucking my daughter into bed, and asking myself: why do I need daycare, why do a sacrifice my time that I could be spending with my young girls in pursuit of an academic research career that I am becoming increasingly more convinced that I will not enjoy? I've invested so much time in this career path... I can't quit now. Can I?

It is the eternal dilemma.

Now I'm getting ready to start my new job. I'm going to be a teacher!

Can I do it? I think so. Will I like it? I hope so. Will this give me the much needed kick to get my career out of the dumps? I really really hope so!

Join me as I try to figure it all out.

And repeat after me: I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And gosh darn it, the students will like me. Oh, and hey, maybe they'll learn something too.

So here I am approaching the fifth year of my post doc, which means technically I will no longer be a post-doc. Instead I will graduate to some sort of research faculty position; not really faculty but not really post doc. It is a point I never thought I'd reach.

I've had several discussions with my boss about my future career goals. My research of late hasn't been that inspiring; grant writing is a tedious and nonrewarding process; I'm searching for a path that will be more fufilling. I mentioned to him that I want to teach; I mentioned that maybe I want to write. He thinks I would be good at both those things, but how to pursue them as a bona fide career choice?

In the meantime I start attending some workshops here at work about Teaching Science, working at Primarily Undergraduate Institutions, and writing Science. But the problem is.... I havn't actually taught anything. I havn't actually written anything.... outside of my blog and my research publications. It is a bit depressing, actually; it is the age old conundrum: how does one get experience when one needs to have experience first?

Anyway, because of all these miscellaneous panels and workshops I've attended, I somehow get put onto an internal email list. One Thursday afternoon in late November I am sitting at my computer when I get a new message. One of the people who is coming to campus in December to host a discussion on teaching at a PUI forwarded a flyer from the Chair of her department. They are looking for Adjunct faculty to teach biology labs, starting this spring. They are advertising this as a good way to get experience.

I immediately type up an e-mail and forward it, along with my CV, to the chair.

Five minutes later she calls my cell phone.

The following Monday I drive up to meet her. We chit chat for 30 seconds. It turns out I never attached my CV to the email, so she asks if I have one. I do, so I give it to her; she glances at it. Then she hands me the syllabus, the course textbook, and the lab manual. She tells me that my section will be on Monday nights. "Are you interested?" She asks.

And just like that, I am hired.

I originally intended to use this blog to talk about all the ways I was trying to raise my daughters to be critical thinkers. However, recent developments in my career path have opened up a whole new door for me, which means I have new uses for this blog, which has been dormant for a year and a half. Let me explain:

I went to a small liberal arts college where I majored in biology. I enjoyed that environment immensely; the classes were small in size, the teachers knew all their students- as intimidating as that can be- and yet the professors still were able to carry on top notch research.

For a little while- because every other biology major was doing it- I decided to be pre-med. A few of my friends decided to go on to graduate school, instead, and that seemed like an even more abstract goal- after all, there were pre-med advisors but not pre-grad school advisers (or so I thought). So after graduation I took some time to work for a living, doing research, exploring my options.

Eventually I went back to school, to earn a PhD. I felt that my years of experience in the real world had better prepared me for my career choices. Again, because that was where everone was telling me to go, I thought to pursue a career in academic research. A few of my friends decided to go on in other directions- but those "alternative" careers seemed like an even more abstract goal- after all, my mentors all seemed to quietly look down upon these alternatives. So after graduation I decided to take some time to work in a generic post-doc position and keep all my options open.

If someone, all those years ago, had only told me what those options were, it would have saved me a lot of time.