What I Wish I’d Known in Graduate School

Reflections on the Future of Humanities Education

Like so many other graduate students in the humanities, I graduated with a sense of optimism. I’d written a dissertation I was proud of, I’d won writing awards, I’d taught quite a few different courses, I had publications. I’d had a few nibbles on my first foray into the job market while still finishing my dissertation, so I was reasonably confident that I would be able to at least land a visiting position of some sort.

Unsurprisingly (to those who know how these stories typically end), I didn’t get any bites last year. Not a Skype, not a campus, barely even an acknowledgment that I’d even applied. The closest I came to a university showing interest in my application was a request for more materials followed by…radio silence. I won’t lie: this lack of any leads was, for a time, truly emotionally devastating. I struggled to overcome the profound sense of failure that seemed to settle like an anchor around my neck, and I suppose that, to some degree, I still am struggling with that sense that somehow I’ve failed, letting down my committee, my partner, my family and, last but not least, myself.

Now, I’m not trying to elicit sympathy. I knew the dangers going in, and goodness knows I’m hardly unique in my plight. As anyone with even a passing…