{"id":368,"date":"2021-01-15T11:03:06","date_gmt":"2021-01-15T11:03:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.lshtm.ac.uk\/depth\/?p=368"},"modified":"2021-02-04T09:06:48","modified_gmt":"2021-02-04T09:06:48","slug":"looking-beyond-the-phd-applying-for-your-first-academic-post","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.lshtm.ac.uk\/depth\/2021\/01\/15\/looking-beyond-the-phd-applying-for-your-first-academic-post\/","title":{"rendered":"Looking beyond the PhD: Applying for your first academic post"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Photo by Clem Onojeghuo<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

New year, new blog post! For our latest piece, DEPTH <\/a>researcher Dr Sam Miles<\/a> reflects on the journey from PhD to first academic job, and offers some advice to ECRs (early-career researchers) pursuing careers in academia. This blog has been adapted from The Royal Geographical Society<\/a> ‘Postgraduate Life<\/a>‘ Series, which you can find here<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

I was recently invited to write a guest blog for the Royal Geographical Society<\/a> about my journey to my first academic job. I don’t have all the answers – in the piece below I reflect on exactly why this might be, and my concerns probably resonate with many of you – but I do have some ideas. Many of these came about after discussions with former students, current colleagues and other early-career researchers (ECRs) in the field, and notes of my own taken over the years. <\/p>\n

It’s not as simple as a tick-list, though I cannot tell you how much I wish it were. I just hope that these ideas can be helpful to social science students here at LSHTM <\/a>and in the wider job market applying for postdoctoral or lecturer posts. I was asked to write the kind of blog post I wish I\u2019d read when I was starting to job hunt; with that in mind, here goes.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s one of those truisms that finding an academic job is hard<\/em>. And it really is \u2013 it feels somehow unlike finding any other kind of job, and the specific knowledge around academic job hiring processes is something you\u2019re also somehow expected to know, maybe by osmosis. It\u2019s no wonder Imposter Syndrome<\/strong><\/a> strikes so many of us. Take for example academic CVs, where longer is better. It goes against every fibre of my being to go over the 2 pages I was always told is the maximum you should fill. Even the listing of education\/jobs\/experience is differently ordered in an academic CV to CVs in every other job in the world. Job adverts themselves can be confusing in terms of terminology and contract type, or arcane or unclear working conditions, or freighted with acronyms without explanations. On top of this, salary, contract length and expectations of entry-level posts can be vague, missing or intimidating.<\/p>\n

It all results in a task that feels unclear and applications that can feel rather uncertain. Usually, that\u2019s through no fault of your own (as evidenced when you\u2019re several applications in, facing radio silence from each institution. Are you even doing<\/em> it right?) Obviously, the offer of an actual job would answer that question, but academic posts are so competitive that your empty inbox may be more of a testament to a stricken job market than your own application – and the COVID-19 pandemic<\/strong><\/a> has made a precarious market even worse. You will often be rejected without any feedback from the hiring institution. The standard response to requests for feedback is that feedback is only feasible at shortlist stage, but it is invariably difficulty to get to shortlist and interview if you don\u2019t gain feedback on what you need to finesse! In the absence of clear direction from institutions, you may need to utilise a few different approaches. I\u2019ll lay out some that I used.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s what my own journey looked like: In the final year of my PhD, I applied to several lectureships. The applications I submitted were for posts that normally required a PhD, completed or near-completion. I took this to mean that they were open to nearly-there or newly-minted PhDs as much as anyone else, but have since recognised that the field of candidates is routinely so huge that many will have progressed a long way beyond this milestone. From asking more established colleagues at my institution, talking with early-career-researchers at a conference that spring, and looking out for the hiring announcements of successful candidates (people increasingly share job successes on Twitter), I realised the reality was that new PhD finishers rarely get these jobs. The market is crowded with brilliant and highly-qualified candidates. Vacancies are limited (and by some accounts<\/strong><\/a>, dwindling further).<\/p>\n

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It is now much more common for PhD finishers to work on one or several assistantships or postdoctoral posts before lectureships become a possibility. Even then, that post is often fixed term.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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Photo by Jon Tyson<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

During my own job hunt, a Research Fellow post at the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine (LSHTM<\/a>) caught my eye. It required a PhD in public health or related discipline, including social sciences. Alongside my own research covering some (but certainty not all) elements of sexual health via a PhD researching the mapping of queer male relationships on location-based dating apps<\/a>, I made sure I researched reproductive health, which was the other component of the post and an area where I was less experienced. The specification emphasised qualitative methods, which matched my experience, and co-produced research outcomes with communities. My doctoral research was participant-centred and I had been reflecting on making a safe space for sensitive topic discussions<\/a>, but I wanted to develop this more in future work. The LSHTM post would specifically engage participatory research, so I took my knowledge of participatory action research (PAR) from my own work and brought myself up to speed on co-production and PPI (patient\/public involvement) in health.<\/p>\n

I revised (and revised, and revised) my academic CV, highlighting teaching experience as well as research outputs to date. I wrote a targeted cover letter which addressed each of the candidate specification requirements listed in their \u2018essential\u2019 list for the vacancy. I addressed each criterion only briefly, keeping the letter to the point, but then noted down longer answers to consider for a potential interview stage. The hiring panel requested academic and non-academic<\/em> writing samples, so I included a published article but also a blog\u00a0I had written about the Pulse nightclub shooting in Florida and its impact on LGBTQ space<\/a>. I was shortlisted for interview(!) and prepared obsessively. I read articles, chapters and media pieces from the hiring team, and took them up on their invitation to produce a slideshow to present in the job interview. I tried to make sure I could highlight the ways in which my research experience matched their goals and I matched up every item in the person specification to a demonstrable activity, role or expertise. This is so key:<\/p>\n

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You need to show how you fulfil each and every ‘essential’ criteria to progress to shortlist. If you cannot show this, or don’t effectively communicate how you show this, your hiring panel will not be able to ‘get to’ other elements of your application that are lower ranking in priority.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

And\u2026 I got the job! It was only a one-year contract, but with hopes of renewing this pending funding. That happened at the end of year one, and then again six months later, and again a few months later. Three years later, and I\u2019m still hanging on. We are now embarking on a very exciting project<\/a>, after which point I will again need to think about new grants, funding and tenure.<\/p>\n

This brings me to precarity. One thing I was asked to reflect on in my blog post was worries I had when applying for academic posts. To be honest, it\u2019s not a past tense concern: I\u2019m funded for now, but then I\u2019ll need to generate grant money for future posts. What started as a temporary position became less precarious, but I\u2019ve yet to secure a permanent position, and know strikingly few ECRs who have managed it. Over half <\/em>of all UK lecturers are now on fixed term contracts<\/a>. I worked for several cash-strapped NGOs before my PhD and yet have never experienced precarity like I see in academia. <\/p>\n

It’s not a personal failing of mine – nor of my colleagues, my line manager or even my Faculty. It’s the predictable result of the neoliberalisation of universities. ECRs are good value and high output, and the incredibly high requirements of REF and general institutional reputation require in turn workers who can relentlessly publish lots of high-quality, peer-reviewed research. In this context, the idea of ‘slow’ co-production in research sadly becomes a luxury, even as my colleagues and I have shown its value<\/a>.<\/p>\n

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Photo by Danielle MacInnes<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n

Some final tips:<\/u><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n