What I would've wanted to know as a first-year assistant professor
May 2016 (perspective of an assistant professor)
Here are my notes on what I think is useful to know as a first-year assistant professor at a research-intensive university. I wrote this at a unique time when I just finished my second year at one school and am about to begin my first year at another school.
You're about to start your first year as an assistant professor at a research-intensive university? Congrats! You've worked super hard to get here, and you're gonna have an awesome time.
I was just in your shoes as a first-year assistant professor of computer science at the University of Rochester (starting in 2014). And very soon, in July 2016, I will once again be a first-year assistant professor, this time in the cognitive science department at UC San Diego. This article is like my past self talking to my future self, recounting what I would've wanted to know back when I started so that I can do even better the second time.
I'm purposely keeping these notes at a high level, so I won't go into nitty-gritty details like “use this cool to-do list app or time management technique to maximize your effectiveness!”
Standard disclaimers apply: I obviously don't have tenure, so I have no idea what it's like to go through tenure review. But since I'm still in the midst of junior faculty life, my perspectives on this topic can hopefully complement those of more senior faculty.
My first realization: enormous time freedom
When I started my faculty job in July 2014, the first major thing that struck me was the enormous amount of freedom I now had in how I spent my time.
When people talk about “freedom” in academia, one major facet is time freedom. Academic freedom doesn't mean you can do whatever the heck you want without consequence; but it does mean that you have an unparalleled amount of flexibility in how you choose to spend your own time.
My first post-Ph.D. job was as a software engineer at Google, back in 2012. I accepted that job because I had an unbelievably cool setup and much more freedom than many of my peers. But even in the most optimal of industry work environments, I realized that your time is externally structured by your teammates, your boss, and the near-term requirements of your current project.
In contrast, as a professor, you're required to be somewhere specific for maybe only six hours per week. e.g.,:
The teaching part is mandatory; it's horrible if you don't even show up to your own class! In theory you could skip department and committee meetings, and people often skip when they are traveling for work. But if you skip too many, that will probably piss off your colleagues (see section below about tenure).
Of course, professors work far more than six hours per week, but my point is that how you structure the rest of your time is completely up to you. Besides having to show up to class and a few meetings each week, nobody is going to tell you what to do, when to do it, how to do it, or even where to do it (I spent most of my two years in Rochester working from Starbucks).
As long as you're present for those six or so hours per week, nobody cares what you do with the rest of your time. But this freedom also means that nobody will tell you if you're using your time well or not. Thus, the central challenge of being an assistant professor is figuring out how to spend your time well. Questions you might ask yourself include:
I can't tell you the answers to these questions. Your colleagues can't tell you the answers to these questions. Not even your department chair can tell you the answers. You need to figure this all out for yourself. The most I can tell you is that these are important questions. In the rest of this article, I lay out some ideas that can hopefully guide your thinking about them.
The Five-Year Road To Tenure
Given that you have tremendous freedom in how you spend your time, what should you do when you wake up every day? One big factor that will affect your planning is the T word: tenure.
From the day you start this job, you have about five years to build up your portfolio of work, submit it for review, and hopefully get tenure. Some departments have longer tenure clocks, but in general you submit your materials in your sixth year, which gives you five full years of pre-tenure work time.
The T word is something people don't seem to like talking about out in the open, since talking about it somehow makes one seem too obsessed with bureaucratic details of the job and not sufficiently focused on the magical wonders of scholarly life. People (usually with tenure!) sometimes say, “Oh you shouldn't get into this job for tenure, you should get into it for the love of research, teaching, etc.” Well, I do love research, teaching, etc., but I'd like to keep doing that for the rest of my life instead of getting fired after five years. So in that light, tenure is important.
If you ask ten people in your field about what it takes to get tenure, you'll get twenty different and sometimes-contradictory responses. It can be super confusing and overwhelming for a first-year assistant professor. So here's my attempt to break it down in super-simple terms, obviously omitting a ton of nuance.
To get tenure, you need to:
The first requirement is a must: If you can't convince a dozen or so full professors that your research is amongst the best in your field, then you're toast. This definitely affects the kinds of research you can attempt as an assistant professor. If you try to go off on a wild tangent and invent a brand-new field or something, it's hard to get tenure for the simple reason that there aren't a dozen full professors in this new field you just invented to write you recommendation letters. I clearly can't tell you what research to work on, so it's up to you to figure out how to tread the fine line between creatively pushing the boundaries of your field while still staying “mainstream” enough to get compelling tenure letters.
What about the second requirement? While in theory you make tenure on the basis of your work alone, in practice your colleagues need to like you enough to want you to stay in the department for the next 30 or 40 years! No recommendation letter is going to be perfect, so the more the department likes and values you, the harder they are going to try to interpret your letters in the most positive light. And if people don't like you, then they can always choose to view your letters in the most critical possible way.
This second requirement is also where the non-research parts of your tenure case come into play, such as teaching, department service, and university service. Doing well in these facets of your job won't get you tenure, but if you do them really badly, you will piss off your senior colleagues. It's also where “bean counting” may take place in some bean-loving departments: If you don't have a least X publications and Y grants, for some mysteriously ill-defined values of X and Y, then the department might feel embarrassed to give you tenure when your C.V. looks too thin. But don't sweat this part; if you're at all self-aware and communicate regularly with your department chair, then you'll know if you're in danger on this front.
Important! You have only five years to make tenure, but the habits and values you develop during these first five critical years on the job will stick with you throughout the rest of your 30+ year career. So even though the T word is important to consider, I think it's unhealthy to develop bad habits and values for the sole purpose of making tenure and think to yourself, “Oh things will get better post-tenure ... I'll do what I really want afterward.” Rather, I think you should do what you really want right now and be true to your personal and professional selves, while keeping in mind the pragmatic constraints of the five-year tenure clock.
Back to the time issue: great freedom but also great demands
Now let's get back to the other T word. Even though you have enormous freedom in how you spend your time, you also have lots of demands on that time. An assistant professor has at least eight independent sources of demand on their time:
(This list was adapted from Why academics feel overworked.)
Although this list seems daunting, with a bit of practice and trial-and-error in your first year, you'll quickly gain an intuitive feel for how to prioritize. Finding the right balance for yourself is key, while keeping in mind that you have a five-year window to build up your tenure case AND that you're a human with limited time, energy, and stamina. A pace that works for your colleague may not work for you, and vice versa.
How much time should you spend doing each kind of work? Since your time is limited, time spent in one category means time not spent on another. And since nobody is there to set a schedule for you, it's super easy to fall out of balance. For instance, do you spend most of your time on teaching and neglect everything else? Do you volunteer for too many paper and grant reviews and have no time for other work? Do you accept too many travel invitations and find it hard to manage your teaching and research? Do you spend all of your time writing grants only to realize that you haven't made progress on publishing papers? Do you find yourself writing too many recommendation letters and organizing outreach events at the expense of advancing your own research?
Unfortunately I don't have any easy answers for how you should split your time. I just know that this is one of the most important problems that first-years must learn to handle. In short:
Without amazing time management skills, you can't even begin to carve out the focused attention and energy needed to make the sorts of creative research innovations that will build your early faculty career.
You're being paid to be a creator, communicator, and educator in your scholarly field. It's an unbelievably awesome and privileged job. However, if you don't get on top of the basics of time management in your first year, then it will start to feel like all you do day-to-day is shuffle papers, attend meetings, triage requests flying at you from all directions, and write an endless stream of emails ... not what you got into this profession to do! Once you master all of these low-level daily routines, though, then your brain can start focusing on the much more fun and fulfilling higher-level acts of creating, communicating, and teaching.
Anyways, I could fill up many more bytes with thoughts on my first year, but these are the memories that stick out the most.
Final thought: If you talk to any successful professor, chances are they will remember totally screwing something up in their first year. So if you find that some parts of the job aren't going as well as planned, don't sweat it. As long as you learn to improve and avoid repeating the same mistakes, you'll be fine. Remember, it's much easier to get tenure than to get hired as faculty. You've already crossed the biggest hurdle by getting hired. Now you just need to show that you can, in fact, do the job that your department already thinks you're fully able to do. Good luck!
Postscript in Feb 2021
Here are some messy notes that I added in Feb 2021, nearly a year after I got tenure. Now I'm starting to see things a bit from the other side. These notes can complement the above article, which I wrote during my pre-tenure days.
Who to get advice from ...
Getting bombarded ...
Publish and/or perish ...
Money money ...
Staff staff ...
Don't overcommit too early ...
Last modified: 2016-05-29