The (Full) Professor Is In
Reflections on life as an associate professor.
Last spring, my dean sent me an email late at night informing me that the president of the University of Maryland had signed the letter approving my promotion to full professor, starting summer 2019. Thus endeth a quest that started in 2008 with a fresh-faced postdoc from France and Sweden taking on the intellectual challenge of his life: the tenure track.
For all intents and purposes, I’ve now attained the top standard academic rank at most U.S. universities (not strictly true at UMD, as the university also recognizes Distinguished University Professors). In fact, in Sweden, where I learned my academic ropes, you are not actually called a “professor” until you are a full professor. For this reason, during my first year as an assistant professor, I was mortified when students would routinely call me “Professor Elmqvist”, feeling as if I was claiming a rank I was not (yet) worthy of, and the imposter syndrome was particularly strong as a result. So now, I’m finally a professor by Swedish standards as well.
Similar to when I was awarded tenure five years ago, I don’t feel very different. My tenure decision was not particularly surprising, and the tension was diluted further when I ended up moving universities in the middle of it all (I received two tenure approvals that year). The imposter syndrome is still there, but in my experience, what I feel an imposter about keeps changing.
I used to fret all night before class and stand up in front of my classroom with my heart thumping. No longer; while I always retain some minor nervousness, it is no longer all-encompassing. I used to track all my paper submissions and agonize over notification dates. No longer; most notifications appear in my inbox as a happy (or, more often than not, unhappy) surprise. I used to spend a week grilling my students in preparation for a Ph.D. defense. No longer; content to let them manage on their own, I will now amble into the room the day of the defense and see their presentation fresh (unless they ask me for help, of course). In all of these cases, it is when what used to be a challenge becomes routine that the imposter feeling disappears.
Of course, new ones inevitably take their place. There are still plenty of things that make me feel like a fraud. Opening our annual symposium as director. Presenting a research project in front of a large team of distinguished collaborators. Speaking to an unfamiliar program manager from an agency I haven’t applied to before. The new, strange, and uncomfortable will trigger the imposter in me every time.
My career as an associate professor spanned precisely five years; from summer 2014 to summer 2019. It was a happy, busy, and productive time. With the invaluable support of my wife Helene, I worked hard, grew my research group, and taught several new courses. However, I also tried to work on my non-professional self: finding a home far from campus in a place where I love to live, taking up running and Kung Fu to improve my health, and becoming a dad (although the dad after tenure thing was never a conscious strategy on my behalf, and hopefully should never have to be for anyone).
Significantly, I never experienced the “mid-career crisis” that so many associate professors describe. I am not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was because tenure was never a really big deal to me. After all, I come from Sweden, where the laws protecting workers are so strong that the concept of tenure is almost nonsensical at a Swedish university (I remember receiving a letter from the Swedish unemployment agency comforting me on the imminent loss of my job and providing details on the appeals process when I graduated with my Ph.D.). That, and the fact that I moved to a new university, where I was forced to view succeeding at this brand new institution as the next big challenge to tackle.
My experience is not typical. According to a 2012 article in the Chronicle of Higher Education, associate professors are the least satisfied group of the professoriate. I am well aware that I, myself, am a member of many privileged groups: I’m white, male, and increasingly old(!). My department — the iSchool at University of Maryland—is also a fantastically supportive and interdisciplinary place to work that recognizes a wide variety of intellectual contributions. Finally, while I did take off an entire semester for paternity leave (something the UMD iSchool was happy to support), my wife has shouldered a massive responsibility with caring for our son since his arrival.
Quo vadis, Professor Elmqvist? That’s less clear. With a no obvious goal in mind — the next promotion — I guess it’s more about doing what I want to do rather than what I think I should be doing. (Of course, my perception is that I’ve already been doing that for at least the last five years, if not longer.) Perhaps now is when I should make time for that mid-career crisis after all? Or, failing that, I guess I’ll just get back in the saddle and trudge onward. After all, there’s always distinguished professor to shoot for…
