I’m super excited to finally share some big news with my readers: I QUIT.
What exactly, did I quit?
My job as a university professor. My academic career. My tenured-and-pensioned holy-grail-of-academia position.
YIKES.
Before I say more, rest assured that this doesn’t affect this newsletter at all. In fact, eventually, I should be able to spend more time devoted to writing this and many other fine things.
For those who are curious about my decision and my future plans, read on!
For context, I started grad school in January 2000 (with a baby at my side!) and I’ve been in higher ed ever since. Most of those years were spent as a student, and/or an adjunct instructor, and/or working on limited-term contracts. In other words, precariously. Eventually, I was hired into a tenure-track position and was granted tenure, bringing some measure of stability to the last 9 years or so.
Even as I grabbed that brass ring, that golden goose, I had an inkling that I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my life at this university, in a town far from home, family, and my oldest friends. And as I look back now, it’s quite interesting to realize that I started my coaching business only one year after I was officially tenured. I started building my exit ramp early.
At that point, though, I didn’t have a plan or a specific timeline. More like a vague sense that someday, I might need to have options that would give me the choice to move.
Over the next couple of years, a few things happened that nudged me closer to my eventual decision. My dad had complications after what was supposed to be a routine surgery. He was in hospital for several weeks and needed regular help once home. All of this fell to my brother, who lived nearby. I didn’t even realize the toll it was taking on him until he finally texted me, saying: “Can you come??”
I could, and I did, but the whole thing made me realize that it wouldn’t be fair to my brother, as the sibling geographically closest to both of our parents, to have to take on all responsibility as they aged. We would need to be a team.
Sadly, our dad passed away suddenly later that year. As we grappled with our shock, grief, and sadness, another reality emerged: since my dad was single at the time of his death, we would be the main beneficiaries of his estate. I bring this up, icky as it feels to talk about an inheritance in the same breath as the death of a loved one, because this reality would make it possible to consider the decision I made last month.
I don’t want to pretend that I’m bravely making this leap from security to independence without a strong safety net. I can contemplate not having employer contributions to a pension plan, or taking a few years to build my income up. I can attempt to move into a MUCH more expensive housing market. Maybe I could have and would have done those things anyway, or eventually, but my dad’s passing has given me the chance to jump now.
I still didn’t have a concrete plan or schedule, though. The future I imagined was gradually coming into focus, but it was far from certain when or how it would happen. The final “push” came in 2021. An incident at work left me reeling. Within the hour I was googling “most affordable housing in Ontario.” I did some calculations and decided that I’d take my upcoming sabbatical, work out the following year (as is generally expected after your sabbatical), and then make my move.
Suddenly, there was a date on the horizon. I called a friend who runs a financial planning and insurance company and asked her if she thought I was bonkers. She didn’t seem to think so. Other signs started to point in my direction: my coaching business was doing really well; I was earning a small additional income from royalties, speaking, and consulting work; my partner found remote work with an Ontario-based company.
As we started to put our plan into action over the last few months, there were certainly a lot of “gut check” moments. I look at my financial spreadsheets way too often, as if I need to confirm that the numbers aren’t telling me a completely different story than they did last week. When a pension fund advisor asked me why, indeed, I was still working here at all, a ripple of relief spread through my body.
Micro-moments like having to write an “about the author” page for a book coming out later this year made me face up to the reality of the choice I was making. Each time we told someone, or took a baby step on the long list of things we have to do before the move, we were slowly making our dream more and more real.
My official resignation was, of course, the true point of no return. But as it got closer, I had fewer and fewer doubts. I was more and more excited to make the news public. While I hated to think of disappointing some of the colleagues I work closely with, I knew that the sooner everyone knew, the better it would be for all of us.
On the advice of my union officer, I decided to tell my colleagues across the two departments I belong to and send my resignation letter to the higher ups as simultaneously as possible. It felt like some kind of coordinated tactical strike. Emails were drafted and ready to send. Virtual meetings were set. Phone numbers were at the ready.
The “blitz” started at 3pm and was over by 4:30. For a short time, it felt like Schrodinger’s resignation: emails had been sent but not necessarily read or responded to. I wasn’t in this limbo for too long, though.
As acknowledgements of the news poured in, I was touched by the kind words of so many colleagues and their lack of hesitation in saying “Congratulations!” Resigning is a great way to hear people gush about your worth and your accomplishments without having to die first. 10/10, would highly recommend.
In any big decision, there are push and pull factors. For me, the pushes were, in no particular order: the intensifying climate of right wing attacks on higher education; frustration with some of the particular working conditions at my own institution; dissatisfaction with small town life, exacerbated by the pandemic; feeling like I’m aging out of the teaching game (if I can’t use Simpsons references, what is even the point?); and working for men (sorry, dudes, but it almost universally sucks to deal with you in positions of power!).
It would be wrong to say that I feel pushed out, though. Ultimately the pulls were the biggest factors guiding me: being close to my daughter, mom, and brother as well as extended family; rejoining the friend group that has miraculously kept including me over my 15-year absence; spending more time doing work that I really love, like writing, and helping folks navigate academic life in my coaching work; better career opportunities for my partner; a sense of a fresh start, a new phase of life to enjoy; and access to Ethiopian food (kidding but also not kidding).
Thanks for reading about this journey. There are lots of nuances to this story that didn’t make this announcement, but I’m sure they’ll come out in bits and pieces in future newsletters. Leave me a comment if you want to know more! xo Leslie
What I’m reading: Proofs of my next book (written with the fabulous Roberta Hawkins): Higher Expectations: How to Survive Academia, Make It Better for Others, and Transform the University. Yes, I’m aware of the irony of leaving academia just as I publish a book about surviving it.
What I’m watching: True Detective: Night Country. I’ve never watched any previous seasons of True Detective and probably never will. This seems like a good place to start!
I totally get this Leslie. Bravo to being brave and seeking greater happiness and fulfilment for yourself. I wish you all the best!
As someone planning her own eventual exit from academia, this is intriguing - and I look forward to your book!