I feel as if I am cursed to go unappreciated in academia. For others in my graduating class at Monmouth University (’06), this probably sounds ludicrous: a member of four honor societies and an officer of one, the recipient of three scholarships, member of the STE advisory council, composer and pianist with a significant following in the music department, and recipient of awards for excellence in computer science and the highest GPA in the class, unappreciated?
The sad truth, however, is that all of these things are the academic equivalent of consistently good performance reviews without promotions or raises. None of my achievements were recorded in the Outlook and even the Monmouth University Magazine section on the Spring 2006 commencement somehow managed to omit the only student recipient of an award at the ceremony. Despite the importance of my research, particularly on the divisor function, the results of which should be quite usable in a proof of the Riemann hypothesis via Robin’s Theorem, it went almost unnoticed at annual STE conferences because the Biology department (as a whole) has better PR than I do (independently, because no one else seems interested in pursuing the big questions; the longer I stay in academia, the more I am convinced it is about nothing more than publishing as much as possible in the shortest time). My pianistic and compositional talent was lauded, but only once it was too late to actually study composition at Monmouth.
The worst of it, however, and the part that I will have a very difficult time forgiving academia in general for, is my inability to gain entry to a school that will truly challenge my abilities. Granted, I ended up at Monmouth because my high school GPA was poor and no other schools looked past the GPA at my SAT scores or all of the real-world things I had accomplished while others were working on contrived assignments, but no such excuse exists this time: between all of my accomplishments from age 12 to the present, a 3.96 GPA at Monmouth and a 4.0 GPA at Temple with a one year Master’s degree, a perfect GRE score, a history of independent and joint research, including publications, and a personal statement that is being used as a model in Monmouth’s writing center, there is no flaw in my application save for the school I attended… and if that is a valid reason to deny an otherwise-excellent candidate admission, the entire process is a vicious cycle.
Perhaps naming the problematic schools will yield a bit of perspective: Princeton University, Columbia University, Cornell University, and New York University. The first thing you will probably notice is the competitiveness of these schools – no wonder I wasn’t accepted! Unlike most applicants, however, I can care less about Ivy League prestige. The reasons I needed to get into these schools were the strength of their algorithms programs, their small size, and their proximity to my home. I scoured the list of universities in my area looking for other fits, but there simply were none.
And that is why I am at Temple studying a subject that I have far less (though still some) passion for and that I did not apply to practice. One of the reasons I chose Temple was to complete the Ph. D. as quickly as possible so I could resume doing research in the field I love once my ability to control my own academic destiny was restored. It is unfortunate that the prospect of remaining in Philadelphia for even two more years is revolting. My advisor is helpful, the bioinformatics work being done at Temple is fairly unique, and there is no other school that I can complete the Ph. D. in so quickly, so I will most likely endure it, but academia will certainly not earn my gratitude for its reception.
Contrast this with my reception in industry: I landed my first technical job (and my second job overall) at 16, where I quickly rose through the ranks to lead web developer. Since then, I have not needed to even apply for jobs, because offers started streaming in at a rate of at least 2 per year (six in 2006, four thus far in 2007). In 2006, some of these offers started to pay very well, but still I denied them because I had decided on a future in academia.
And so we return to the present: merely four days after receiving the latest round of rejections, I was contacted by Google, of all companies. For the first time in years, I will have to interview, but here is a job that is simply too good to pass up – a job sufficiently promising to cause me to forsake the system that had cast me from its folds and demanded that I study others’ fields to the expense of my own not a week earlier. It’s a job that may permit me to study and research algorithms if I haven’t become so sick of the way it is cast aside in academia to want no part of it anymore.
I suppose this post is my way of asking for a reason to remain in academia. Why should I contribute to a system that has done nothing but reject me? I feel that I owe completion of the degree to my advisor, who has invested considerable time, effort, and funds into training me and clearly takes personal pride in his students… but this is not sufficient; I would just complete the degree and choose a path that didn’t require it to begin with. I need a reason to persist.