Bio Career Center

In my high school AP biology class in Los Angeles, I became fascinated with the inner workings of cells. One day in class we watched The Race for the Double Helix, a film that superbly recounts the scientific sleuthing that led to the elucidation of the structure of DNA. Enraptured by the excitement, drama, intellectual challenge and importance of scientific discovery portrayed in the film, I decided then to set sail for a career in biological research.

I stayed the course through my undergraduate years at Berkeley and two years as a lab tech at Hines VA Hospital in Chicago, but in grad school at the University of California, San Diego, I gradually began to steer toward a new destination: a teaching career.

Why this change in heading? Mostly because it became apparent that my talents lay in teaching, not in research. As such, I harbored two conflicting emotions during grad school: the disappointment of realizing that I was not cut out for the research world, and the joy and satisfaction of identifying my true calling.

During grad school, I came to appreciate that my research talent was problematically limited. Conducting research was a constant struggle. To accomplish fundamental tasks such as learning the literature, analyzing data, and designing experiments, I had to contort my brain in ways that did not come naturally. This was not new, but the sense I had prior to grad school, that I would continually improve at these tasks until I became proficient, became replaced by a sense that my innate inabilities would always hold me back. I felt that my mind had shortcomings (foremost among them: a frustrating inability to remember details) that were a serious detriment on the job. I believed I was good enough to succeed at an academic research career, but only if I worked long, stressful hours, which I decided I was not willing to do.

My level of willingness to work at research was influenced both by my commitment to my personal life (essentially, my family) and by the low level of fulfillment that my research endeavors were providing. Days in the lab were usually dominated by various frustrations and annoyances, and it was depressing to work so hard to generate a tiny product of dubious value. I felt that my talents were being wasted; that my considerable energy output was not producing useful work. I was not excited to wake up in the morning to go to lab, and when I left the lab at night, I just wanted to put my research out of my mind.

Everything is relative, and my experiences in research might not have led me to change my career course if they were not contrasted with better experiences in teaching. I had long been interested in education, and was looking forward to teaching courses as part of my duties as a professor at a research university, but had not engaged in formal teaching until my teaching assistantships in grad school. When I actually stood in front of a classroom of students and began to lecture, I soon came to the conclusion that teaching should be the focus, not a secondary element, of my career.

Both my talent and motivation were considerably higher for teaching than they were for research. I felt there were aspects of my personality that made me exceptionally suited for teaching, something I did not think applied for research. I felt comfortable at the board and working with students. It was actually fun and very enjoyable, and I could easily see the positive results of my efforts. I found myself looking forward to the next class meeting, hoping that students would show up for office hours, happily daydreaming about upcoming classroom activities. Research seemed dull and unrewarding in comparison.

As I began to think seriously about a teaching job, the next question to arise was: "What kind of teaching job?" High school? Community college? Small college? Lecturer at a research university? I considered all of these options seriously and researched them to identify the position most suited to my interests. In this endeavor, I was helped immensely by the graduate career advisor at my institution, who answered a stream of questions about these career paths, and gave me articles and contacts for additional information. From speaking with her contacts and others I knew at these various types of institutions, I gained an impression of what each of these jobs would be like.

I decided on shooting for a job at a small college. Also categorized as liberal arts colleges or primarily undergraduate institutions (PUIs), these colleges had several appealing aspects for me. I looked forward to having a secure position, being a valued member of an active college community, teaching courses at a variety of levels, and working with interested students that wouldn’t require much disciplining. Working at a PUI also afforded me the opportunity to continue doing research without the pressures of succeeding at a level too high for my comfort. I had one hang-up: I harbored a strong desire to make a difference in the lives of young people, especially those who had been dealt a limited hand by fate, and I felt I could best accomplish that by teaching high school. My concerns were assuaged when other professors convinced me that there is much work to be done in this regard at the college level, and that a professor at a PUI is also well positioned to make strong positive contributions at the K-12 level and in the community at large.

With this decision made, I turned my rudder toward landing a job at a PUI . . . and hoped I would strike land soon.