PostdocPartum #0.5: Apprehensive optimism
{900 words, 4 minutes}
Note: PostdocPartum is a regular column about my life and career as a postdoc. This is a half-step increment because it takes place before arriving in Norway, but I promise not to do this often.
In the months of June and July, most of my apprehensions about postdoc-ing in Norway were calmed over time. I had the support of my parents and many friends. Many colleagues also only had positive remarks about Norway and expressed admiration or mild envy at such an opportunity (and some even had interest in future collaboration). With having most of my travel and work arrangements mostly settled and positive further interactions with others at IFE, including an American citizen who recently started working there, I had a lot more confidence is having a positive postdoc experience in Norway. At the worst, I could leave in 2.5 years and look for another postdoc in the U.S.
One of the most important supporters for me was actually my main thesis advisor, who spoke to my current project manager as a reference during the interview stage. He particularly emphasized the consistently progressive attitude toward public funding of scientific research in Europe/Norway, which in retrospect, sounds more like a projection of his frustration with the research funding situation in the U.S. I was looking for his opinions of European research quality, but he didn't volunteer any qualms about that; perhaps the absence of that concern was reassuring enough for me. My other advisor also said it was a good opportunity, although he mentioned that I probably wouldn't want to stay and that I would be better off eventually coming back to the States.
Actually, the only remaining source of anxiety about going to Norway wasn't the postdoc itself, but the career step afterward. When a younger colleague and friend asked me to review her CV, she told me of her goal to become a tenure-track (TT) faculty member. It wasn't unreasonable; in her case, she (and her advisor, of course) became literally world famous because of a fundamental discovery in her research. Her struggle was that, with a Georgia Tech PhD, she needed to climb higher as a postdoc, which limited her options to a small number of elite and extremely selective schools, or look for a direct hire into a TT faculty position. She wasn't sure her CV was polished enough, so she asked me to help. We discussed our outlooks and perspectives on a career in academia.
One thing she said that stuck with me was that she thought going to Europe was a dead-end for pursuing TT positions in America (except perhaps Oxford or Cambridge, but hey, Brexit means those aren't Europe anymore, right?). I know of this perception of Europeans; by American standards, they're viewed as lazy or easy-going, taking off work early and having month-long vacations. By Asian standards, they might as well be working part-time (I'm not exaggerating; the Chinese students readily work 70+ hours a week, compared to a typical sub 40-hour European work week. I suspect a 50- to 60-hour work week is typical for American researchers). Certainly, the U.S. universities and labs seem to dominate the rankings and research output in terms of publications and discoveries. Can European institutes, with their socialist attitudes and decorated history of scientific discoverers and thinkers, measure up to their American competitors, much less a small institute in Norway? It all makes me wonder whether taking this postdoc adheres to my goals of pursuing a job that keeps as many doors open as possible, including long-shot possibilities like TT faculty in the U.S. It's a kind of apprehension I will likely have to carry until I finish my job search after the postdoc.
What still frustrates me is this feeling of déjà vu that reminds me of how I felt the summer before starting the PhD program. I had regrets about how I spent some of my time in undergrad and wanted to change, to make progress with social relationships, to discover important things for society. Graduate school, I told myself, was a chance to hit reset on those goals and give them a second try. Have a serious relationship, be unafraid to travel alone, put small dreams into action, discover the origin of my cultural identity, make a significant contribution to the world, be less of an introvert, etc. Knowing that five or more years of graduate school were ahead of me, before I had a chance to realize its grueling, soul-crushing aspects, filled me with ambitious optimism of a daydream-like quality. Atlanta, Georgia Tech, the PhD; altogether, it seemed like so much time and opportunity to accomplish big things.
Now that same feeling of ambitious, daydream-esque optimism is creeping in again with the postdoc. It's frustrating to know that I'm overestimating successful outcomes and underestimating challenges and worse yet, that I can envision goals and outcomes but I know that neither are reasonably achievable without concrete, detailed plans I'm too lazy to design and adhere to. It's what made graduate school a brutalizing and lonely experience. I worry that I'm somehow consigned to dreaming too big and being disappointed when I fall short. Daily, I have to temper my daydreaming optimism to a level that expects mediocrity and failure.
One glimmering hope is how I am being reminded of how far I've come when mentoring younger graduate students. I've been mentoring a 2nd year graduate student who had been struggling immensely due to both internal and external factors and I saw a lot of my younger self reflected in him. I think graduate students lack a lot of self-referential perspective, because the goalposts for them are always 100 yards ahead of them. You always feel like you're insufficient and inadequate, even if you're growing and learning the entire time. For me, it's taken a lot of years to grow, and now with PhD in hand and postdoc stint ahead, I hope I can grow a lot faster in the next few years. If some optimism is unavoidable, it might as well be warranted.
