No one ever told me that at age 40, I’d be trying to answer the same question that I got asked at age 4: what do I want to be when I grow up?
At an early age, I knew I wanted to be a scientist. I went to college to get a degree in physics. I went to grad school and got a PhD in Planetary Science. I was a postdoctoral researcher at two different institutions, NASA and the Carnegie Institution, before being hired at the University of Chicago as a faculty member of the Department of the Geophysical Sciences. By all accounts, I am a scientist.
But there are many different aspects of my job. And I’m beginning to think about…wonder…question…is there more that I should/want to be doing?
For a long time, I was only focused on doing research. That’s what I was told that a scientist does: carries out experiments or does calculations that advance our knowledge of the world and universe in which we live. That is what I saw as my main role, and that was where I put most of my effort. It’s been amazing—the feeling of discovering something new or being the first person to see how pieces of the universe fit together is an incredible rush. Despite all the hard work and frustrating false starts that come with carrying out an experiment, writing a computer code, or waiting for the right moment to witness an event, that feeling of realization and awe when you see something no one else had witnessed before immediately gets you hooked and keeps you coming back for more. It’s a drug. It’s intoxicating.
But as a scientist, and more as a professor, my job description extends beyond doing research. I’m an educator: I teach classes. I’m an advisor: I train students and postdocs to be independent scientists of their own. I’m a colleague: I’m part of a department and university whose goals are to create an academic community where the whole is greater than the sum of their parts. I’m an ambassador: I publicize the discoveries and achievements that I and others make to the public. I’m an advocate: I work to ensure that funding and opportunities are there for others to continue on our march for deeper insights and more knowledge. These are important responsibilities that require significant time and effort.
Take teaching. I teach two classes per year. A lot of faculty that I am around look at it as a necessary burden; one they do because they have to, but it’s the research that really is what motivates them and excites them. I must admit, while I have enjoyed teaching and take my responsibility seriously, it has been a lower priority than my research for a long time. That’s due to many things: pressure from peers, advice from mentors, and self-imposed sense of what defined my career. It’s never that I wasn’t trying; I just wasn’t trying as much as I could.
And this is the crux of the conflict that I’ve struggled with: I can’t put my full effort into everything. I have limited time, energy, and brain power. But as I look at the responsibilities that I have as a scientist, I wonder if I need to re-evaluate how I allocate those resources.
I want to be a better teacher and educate students so that they have the science literacy and knowledge needed to appreciate the world that they live in as well as to make informed decisions about the scientific issues they will face in the future. I want to be a better advocate for science and my field, increasing diversity and ensuring equal opportunities for my colleagues, both in the present and the future. I want to reach out more to the public, making what we learn and know from our research available to everyone, not just other scientists or those who have the money/opportunity to go to college. I want to be leader, working to help identify what scientific goals we, as a community, set for ourselves in the near and distant future and working to ensure that our limited resources are allocated to meet those goals.
On top of that, I am a person. I have my own goals, and at times I feel selfish for thinking about them. I am a father and a husband, and each of these require my full effort and energy (totally worth it, as they are both amazingly rewarding). I want to experience more in life, too. I want to travel. I want to learn more outside of my field. I want to cook and eat fine foods, and spend days reading by the lake. I want to enjoy life, rather than jumping from one responsibility to the next.
I’m not giving up on any of it. But it’s time for a change. I need to reprioritize and accept that I can’t do it all. I’m not changing careers or fields or anything. But I am thinking about what to do differently and how. How can I satisfy my ambitions and sense of obligation? What will allow me to feel like I am contributing, while getting the most joy and satisfaction out of my efforts. Perhaps I will do things differently than my colleagues would do or are doing right now. Maybe they prioritize their responsibilities differently than I do. That’s ok. I support their decisions. It doesn’t mean we’re fighting different wars; we’re just battling on different fronts.
