It’s hard to believe, but this month marks ten years since I graduated with my PhD in English. I never thought, while I was in thick of things, that I would get my PhD, specifically because it took me years to get into a program. I’ve been thinking about that journey a lot over the past few weeks, spurred on by a question from somene on Twitter about whether or not I (in the collective sense) donate to my alma mater and why or why not. That question, and the conversation I had with the person who asked it, really got me thinking more extensively about my educational path. I’ve thought about my journey before, but reflecting on it in relation to my interlocutor’s question really made me think about different aspects of my educational odyssey.

I’m a first generation college student, and I started my undergraduate program way back in 1996. Looking back, I really don’t even know how I ended up in college. I wanted to, as so many others did during that period, major in marine biology to study sharks. So, how did I end up at a land-locked university in North Louisiana? Really, I don’t know. It was close to home, only about ninety minutes away, and it was what I was supposed to do, go to college and get a degree. I wasn’t ready for college. I arrived with a friend, and that friend, after the first semester, dropped out. I remained. Reflecting on that period from a close to thirty year distance, I’m surprised I stayed. I think what keep me there was finding a community and people that became friends. It wasn’t academics.

In fact, I barely graduated, ending my undergraduate career with a 2.51 gpa, just enough to get my diploma. I taught high school a couple of years and decided that wasn’t what I wanted to do, so I spoke with the department head in English at my alma mater and got my master’s degree in 2004. From that point, I knew I wanted to pursue a PhD, but I had never really even applied to college before. Like I said, I don’t even remember how I eneded up at my undergraduate school. I just did. When it came to the M.A. program, I just spoke with someone and applied. There was no real application, apart from the forms I had to fill out and materials I had to submit. I didn’t have to worry about rejection or the application process.

That issue arose when I decided to go for my doctorate. Upon graduating with my masters, I taught at the university level, at my now two-time alma mater, and applied for PhD programs. I sought lofty schools, and each application got summarily shot out of the sky. Four years into the process, my wife and I decided I would try one more time, and if I failed to get in anywhere I would move on from the dream of acquiring a PhD in English. That final year, I had a publication and multiple years of university teaching experience. That year, I got multiple offers and was placed on teh waiting list at multiple schools, but only one came through with financial assistance, but that was enough for me.

I graduated with my PhD in 2014, tens years ago this month, and even with that accomplishment I still struggled. The academic job market, especially for the liberal arts, is horrendous, and it continues to get worse every year. After graduation, I had a good interim position, but that only lasted for a year. After that, I adjuncted at two schools, teaching six courses per semester for a little over $20,000. In 2016, I landed an instructor position at Auburn University, and I thought that that position would serve as a stepping stone to something more stable, specifically a tenure track position. Between 2014 and 2018, I probably submitted 250–300 job applications, if not more, with only a handful of interviews and an even smaller number of campus visits.

Since the Auburn position wasn’t permenant, only five years maximum, I also applied for a Fulbright in 2017, and I received it for the 2018–2019 academic year. If anything would land me a more stable position that would do it, right? Well, that year I probably did around 50 applications, while living abroad in Norway. I had a few interviews and finally did get a more stable position, but it took multiple years and multiple stops to do that. I was lucky. Many aren’t. Many still work year-to-year, adjunct, or have left academia completely.

Thinking back over the past ten years, I always look at the struggles, telling myself that academia, along with every other career, is not a merritocracy as so many say. If it was a true merritocracy, I know I would have had more job offers over the years, job offers that would have provided more stability earlier in my academic career. I know that this statement appears boastful, and I don’t mean it that way, even though I know I need to hype myself and my accomplishments up more. I say this because since graduating with my PhD I have edited a collection on the work of Frank Yerby, published around twenty academic articles and books chapters (on average two per year), twenty two book reviews, countless public facing articles, received multiple grants, run multiple programs, and other things. This doesn’t even include the over 800 posts I have written on my own blog.

I don’t say all this to say, “Woe is me.” I say all of this to poing out that a lot of individuals do not necessarily know who or what they want to be when they attend college. A lot may not even know why they’re there in the first place. They may, like me, find out later then choose to pursue a higher degree. However, they may be like me as well and just fall into it. They may, like me, go to state schools in a state that many look down upon, partly because it’s the South and partly because it’s one of the lowest ranking states in so many categories. They may have numerous accomplishments, but those accomplishments and believe that meritocracy exists, but they may realize that meritocracy exists as merely a myth.

Even with all of this, I love what I do. I love the journey I’ve taken, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. If I got a tenure track job early in my carrer, I never would have applied for a Fulbright. If I got a tenure track job early on, I may have become complacent and not started my blog, done book reviews, written papers. I may have done what I had to do for my tenure review and stopped there. I would merely curl up and wait out my days. I probably wouldn’t have the drive and desire for knowledge that I have now. I would not be fulfilling my full potential.

All of these things have reinforced for me that education is not a meritocracy and a path to economic stability. However, education remains important because it is, ultimately, a space for us to become engaged citizens with the world around us. This is what I’ve learned through my journey, to foster citizenship amongst my students and to do the same with myself, to learn about the world around me and how to interact with it to make the world a better place for everyone. Education has made me who I am, and it has fueled my desire for knowledge, knowledge that will hopefully transform itself into a tool to impact society.