(c) Evangeline Gallagher/Guardian.
I have recently had a few exchanges with younger academic colleagues that have become parents. Given my own experience during the just over three years since I became a dad, I was not surprised (but still deeply saddened) to hear them express frustration at the lack of time to engage with research and intellectual stimulation in the way they wanted, and a consequent certain loss of their identity and sometimes sense of self-worth, and fears and worries about the impact that juggling new childcare responsibilities (which everyone found to be extremely fulfilling and rewarding, though) will have on careers and reputations, or even job stability.
What did surprise me, however, is that most colleagues felt that the situation was made worse because nobody talks about it, which fuels feelings of isolation and imposter syndrome (which I very much experience myself too), or can even push some to try to hide or certainly not volunteer the fact of their imminent or recent parenthood. So this post just tries to start a conversation and to say to each and every one of my academic colleagues facing a similar struggle, that I see you and I am always happy to talk about it. Please do reach out if you feel like it.
I am, of course, consciously aware of my privileged position as a middle-class, white, male professor, but I am also acutely aware of the fact that I got to this stage in my career before becoming a parent and I am also entirely convinced that I would not have progressed so quickly in academia if I had been a parent at a younger age. As a result of this, in my mind, I hold very complicated and contradictory thoughts and feelings: I have no reason to complain or to expect things to be any better, but I also do not deserve my position because it is one reflective of the merits and contribution of an Albert that no longer exists (the one always available, willing to overwork, to travel, the one that ‘was everywhere’ and was the first one to react to developments in my field). I feel bad that I cannot make the same sort of contribution I used to. And that is because I left it (and the reputation, prestige, or simply ego resulting from it) define me. I am no longer that person, so who am I and how can I still occupy the same space or have the same aspirations as the Albert that no longer is?
I am very happy that I took extended periods of shared parental leave to bond with and take care of my kids when they were babies, but I also struggled a fair bit during those periods of absence from academia. Especially during my second shared parental leave because I took it 'solo' (my partner went back to work) and I found myself craving some 'adult' / 'intellectual' conversation regularly. This led me to accept invitations to participate in training programmes and webinars during my period of leave, as I thought that would make the feeling subside. But, to the contrary, after each event I was left exhausted and feeling that I had both failed as an academic (my performances were well below what I would have liked due to sleep deprivation, mental rustiness and the unavoidable distractions of ‘zooming with a baby on your arms’) and, worse, that I had neglected my child and robbed her of some precious quality time.
And this has not stopped. To be 100% honest, I keep struggling with my new identity of parent academic (and increased imposter syndrome that comes with the need to say no even more than before, with the prioritisation of parent over academic) after having returned from the second leave a few months ago. I still have serious difficulty facing (and are yet to accept) the prospects of a more constrained academic life that really needs to be balanced with (a lovely) family. And this is not helped by the fact that I had set the bar so high for myself (both in my head and regarding institutional expectations), that I cannot but keep failing in my futile attempts at trying to clear it. I am honestly doing my best, and yet, every day, I feel I am failing.
When I can take a step back from those feelings (and it is hard not to swim, or even indulge in them), I can see that most of these feelings are probably in common with everyone else that becomes a parent and therefore sees their lives decentered (or recentered), but I think that perhaps this is particularly challenging for academics given ‘the way the system now works’ and the underappreciated role of self-confidence and self-believe in enabling us to perform our jobs at the level of ‘continuous and ever-increasing excellence’ expected from us.
I also think that the challenges are particularly acute for academics becoming parents because it is a major shock that probably puts a mirror in front of (most of) us that reflects how unsustainable and unbalanced our work/research/life was, although of course the challenges remain for academics being parents (at least for a good few years, I hear from most colleagues further advanced in their parenthoods).
And I also think this is probably only getting worse given the perverse dynamics of permanent assessment and benchmarking of our performance, as well as a de facto ‘up or out’ system where you are seen to fail unless you go from promotion to promotion in short periods of time — because, in the end, the social status of the profession has been degraded so significantly that there is a worrying perception that *just* having a permanent entry-level academic job (Assistant Professor or Lecturer, depending on the system) does not really recognise you as a weighty expert in your field (which it does, in my opinion).
So, here it is. At least I have emptied my brain. And I hope someone, somewhere will find some value in the reflection. And perhaps a conversation will start. I am here, and I am listening.
