Creating your own line: reflections from early career scientists

Abstract

The changing landscape of academia can be difficult to navigate for anyone at any point throughout their career. One thing is certainly clear: effective mentorship is key to ensuring success, fueling scientific curiosity, and creating a sense of community. This article is a collection of personal reflections and stories, offering advice directed to aspiring and junior graduate trainees; it is written by Ph.D. students, postdoctoral researchers, early-stage assistant professors, and life-long educators. The objective of this article is to inform, empower, and inspire the next generation of physiologists.

NEW & NOTEWORTHY This article is a collection of personal reflections and stories, offering advice directed to aspiring and junior graduate trainees that is written by Ph.D. students, postdoctoral researchers, early-stage assistant professors, and life-long educators. The objective of this article is to inform, empower, and inspire the next generation of physiologists.

INTRODUCTION FROM DR. TYMKO

The inspiration for this article arose from the hesitations I felt when asked two simple questions: “What is it that you do?” and “What is it like to be a graduate student?” As a junior trainee, I discovered that my answers to these seemingly simple questions changed every time I was asked, and my answers were often different from my peers. Near the end of my M.Sc. training, I was awarded a modest merit-based scholarship and decided to put it to use by embarking on a month-long cycling journey across Italy. Packed with a 30-year-old touring bicycle I purchased for $100, a nonwaterproof (I found out later) single-person tent that was donated to me, a few tools I borrowed from a roommate, limited clothing, and money, I traversed the coastlines and through the Dolomite mountains. During this time, alongside preparing for my M.Sc. defense scheduled for the day after my return to Canada, a decision I suspect my old supervisor has yet to forgive me for, I dedicated my nights while solo camping on various beaches attempting to write about the graduate trainee experience. However, the document remained void of words despite my best efforts. Even as time passed through my Ph.D. studies, responding to these questions never became easier, and I learned that many of my graduate friends and colleagues also shared the same difficulties when answering these questions.

Now, after completing my postdoctoral work, I felt compelled to revisit these questions before becoming too detached from my days as a trainee before the struggles and sacrifices became distant memories. Thankfully, my friend and colleague, Christina (Nique) Bruce, made me realize that undertaking such a project would be nearly meaningless from a single perspective. She is the reason for this paper coming together. Others have already written similar perspective articles, such as a group of senior contributors from Advances in Physiology Education who shared their personal journeys and offered advice to graduate trainees from an editorial perspective (1). In this article, we share a common objective with the elegant piece by Model and colleagues: to provide prospective and junior graduate trainees with career advice by sharing our own stories as a diverse group of young physiologists (Table 1). With international training experience in areas of human, animal, and cellular physiology, some of the authors within this article have crossed paths at conferences, international research collaborations, and graduate-level courses, and some still have yet to meet. Our hope is to emphasize the fact that academia has no definitive playbook: we all have different experiences and come from various walks of life. Although directed at young trainees, these reflections will also bring invaluable insight to principal investigators as they are a proclamation of the impact of meaningful mentorship. The landscape of academia is forever evolving, for better and in some instances for worse, and this collection of career advice reflects some of the common challenges that early-career physiologists are currently facing. With the utmost sincerity, thank you to the coauthors for sharing their stories.

Table 1.

Summary of advice to prospective graduate students

Name	Title	Key Points
C. Bruce	Ph.D. Candidate	Do not let feelings associated with the imposter phenomenon stand in your way of success or helping others. Challenge yourself, say “yes” to new opportunities, step outside of your comfort zone, and just keep moving. There is no wrong way forward. If you think academia is missing something, be the change you want to see.
L. DuBose	Assistan Professor	The indirect or unintended paths are worth taking, things work out in the end.
J. Tremblay	Lecturer	Do not ever hold back genuine enthusiasm. Reaching out to academics whose work you find interesting will often lead to meaningful collaborations and connections.
B. Oliveira	Clinical Research Coordinator	Plans may change but go for what you want: you’ll regret the things you did not do more than what you have done.
H. Islam	Postdoc	Be a great colleague and build a solid network within your scientific community. Pursue research that you are passionate about. Diversify your skillset as much as possible (expand your “toolbox”).
A. Teixeira	Postdoc	Recognize your weaknesses and do not hesitate to ask for help. Be prepared to receive criticism and do not take it personally. Be a human first and a scientist second.
L. Brewster	Postdoc	The following are some examples of negative behavior to look for and avoid in academia: Resistance to your professional development; Differing ideas are discouraged; Work-life imbalance is prevalent; Sexism, racism, classism, harassment, toxic masculinity, or discrimination of any kind; Money is a primary source of motivation; and Feedback is delivered on a quid pro quo basis.
V. Meah	Postdoc	Do not accept poor treatment from others. Power dynamics can make communication difficult. Know your worth, do not work for free. Understand the potential implications of relocating.
M. Tymko	Assistant Professor	Be persistent, embrace every opportunity, and allow your passion to serve as your guide. Understand the possible financial burdens and implications associated with relocating for your training. Do not let your work dominate your identity.

CHRISTINA D. BRUCE (Ph.D. CANDIDATE, ASPIRING MERMAID, LOVER OF SNOW)

I have always loved teaching and the collaborative nature of research, but I still question whether or not I “belong” in academia. This may be, in part, due to the lack of representation of women conducting human physiology research. Alternatively, and more likely the culprit, are feelings of self-doubt about whether or not I could “cut it” if I ever landed a job. Sound familiar? Keep reading for a definition of the imposter phenomenon.

While pursuing my undergraduate degree, I held a certificate of Indian Status recognizing Mi’kmaq Indigenous ancestry from the east coast of Turtle Island (also known as Canada). The grim history of this identification system (2) stems from The Indian Act (1987), which is now considered a form of apartheid law by the Assembly of First Nations. For the purposes of this reflection, know that the matter of being, or not being, recognized by the Canadian Government as a Status Indian is beyond complicated and can be a source of extreme emotional stress for individuals. This also applies to individuals having the option to self-identify in academia.

I no longer self-identify as being Indigenous where financial matters are concerned, which will never change how I feel connected to this planet and my ancestral roots. Considering the lack of Indigenous representation in academia, this was a difficult decision to navigate. For reference, I once reached out to a Métis assistant professor for advice, and they informed me that there were fewer than 10 Indigenous academics in the area of exercise physiology across all of Canada in 2019. I have come to understand that regardless of how I identify, my role as an accomplice to the Indigenous community (i.e., an ally with action) is all that matters and I will forever be grateful for the Indigenous elders, my M.Sc. and Ph.D. supervisor (Dr. Chris McNeil) and other academic mentors who graciously supported me while navigating this decision. Nevertheless, temporarily being identifiable as Indigenous revealed some unfortunate misconceptions and bad practices in academia that should be mentioned.

Unless they state otherwise, individuals of a historically marginalized group are not responsible for educating their peers about a population with which they may or may not identify. Additionally, what may appear to be a logical, quick fix to a systemic problem (spoiler alert, there is no such thing), tokenistic hiring practices are creating animosity among early investigators and unintentionally promoting self-doubt for those who do not know if they will land a job because of their hard work or simply as a result of their identity. Nearing the end of my Ph.D. and having been awarded postdoctoral funding, I still do not know (and likely never will) to what extent my temporary status card and gender have helped me get to where I am today, rather than my own determination and hard work. That said, I recognize hints of imposter syndrome or phenomenon, pervasive feelings of inadequacies with regard to one’s intellect, skills, and/or accomplishments (3), and I know these will only hinder my ability to leverage my privilege to create space for those who need it. In addition to disclosing my primary source of existential dread, I will share a few nuggets of wisdom that I have gained thus far along my academic journey.

As a kid, I wanted to be a mermaid when I grew up. Whenever I realized this likely was not going to happen, I decided that pursuing marine biology (under the sea) was the next best thing. From there, I quickly became enthralled with the physiology of scuba and free diving; however, it was not until the third year of my Bachelor of Health Science degree that I became aware of environmental physiology. It was during this time when Professor Trevor Day, an exceptional mentor and educator, introduced me to human physiology research. In hindsight, this was an impressive feat within an institution with no defined research program. Driven by my love for teaching and teamwork, I then obtained an M.Sc. degree and subsequently applied to the Ph.D. of Kinesiology program at the University of British Columbia–Okanagan (UBCO). My decision to take this path in academia required countless hours of talking with family, mentors, and peers. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have studied at UBCO under the supervision of many amazing mentors. My time at UBCO has also provided me with invaluable insights into the complex issues associated with equity, diversity, inclusion, and accessibility in academia via committees, workshops, seminars, and guidance from knowledgeable individuals in this area. My advice from this is show up and be present for every learning opportunity.

As a first-generation graduate student, I often felt as though I was sailing uncharted waters with no sense of direction. Before graduate school, the only constant was my part-time/full-time scaffolding job with the Alberta Carpenter’s Union, which paid for my education, kept me grounded (figuratively, not physically) and gave me a sense of what I did not want as a career. Knowing what you do not want to do is sometimes easier, and just as important, as figuring out what you do want to do.

Altogether, here is my advice to anyone else navigating academia, 1) do your research before committing to a program (e.g., meet with your prospective supervisor, converse with current/previous students, visit the laboratory space); 2) remain acutely aware that everyone will give advice based on their own experiences, which may or may not take your best interests into consideration; 3) challenge yourself by stepping out of your comfort zone, you are capable of so much more than you think; 4) even if you do not know exactly what you want to do, just keep moving forward; 5) pick a topic that you enjoy reading about (coming from someone who does not always enjoy reading, even about mermaids and diving); and finally, 6) if you are still searching for representation of yourself to feel a sense of belonging in academia, this is your call to be the change you want to see.

LYNDSEY DUBOSE (Ph.D., A LITTLE BIT ALL OVER THE PLACE)

As I write this, I am starting my final week as a postdoctoral fellow before being promoted to Assistant Professor. Looking back on the past 10+ years, my path has been shaped as much by the generosity of great mentors as by receiving a lot of “no’s” that have worked out in great ways I never could have imagined. I will briefly describe my path in academia in hopes of offering support. But if there’s one message you take from this, I hope it is that very few paths in academia are ever very direct and that things always work out as they should in the end.

I became interested in research during my undergraduate studies in Exercise Science with a pre-physical therapy (PT) focus when the thought occurred to me during one of my classes, “where did this knowledge that I am learning come from?” I grew up in a small Texas town and had never known of research before. I became curious about how research worked when I started applying the knowledge that I was learning in class to my training as a walk-on National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) collegiate rower.

I was coached by a two-time Olympic medalist who was a member of the first women’s crew allowed to race in the Olympics. From 1976 to 1988, women were only allowed to race half the distance of the men because it was believed that women could not “handle” rowing the full distance. If you have never rowed, the most important boat is called an “Eight” in which eight rowers move in unison to go as fast as they can while being guided by a coxswain. It is the ultimate team sport because the fastest boats are not always the ones with the fastest individual rowers but rather the boats that can move the fastest together. Through rowing and my coach, I learned the value of hard work and being a good teammate and that my gender was one of my greatest strengths. My gender gives me power and a community but also taught me the responsibility to create space for other women to kick butt, just as my coach did decades ago. This remains a driving influence in my research on women’s health today.

I received a scholarship to return an additional year to exhaust my NCAA eligibility, which changed my life. I fell in love with cardiovascular physiology while completing additional coursework and volunteering in a research laboratory for the first time. I could say that the rest is history, but really, I applied to both PT and graduate programs to satisfy my parents who were concerned about the long-term stability of academia. Truthfully, I was rejected from every single PT school I applied to and from the graduate program I thought was my dream program, a fact I now consider one of the best things to ever happen to me. I landed at a graduate program that became my dream program. I had an overwhelmingly positive experience earning my Ph.D. that led to an incredible postdoctoral fellowship. I am not saying it has not been really hard, but I am saying I have had fun doing hard things because I have had great mentors and colleagues in my corner. They have been generous with their time and opportunities so I could explore what kind of scientist I wanted to be and develop my own passions. They have given me the tools to drive my mentor/mentee relationships to get what I needed out of those relationships and supported me when I have felt defeated. A decade later, I still love competing as part of a team, except these days I have traded the racecourse for a research laboratory and an oar for an ultrasound probe.

I was recently asked if I ever had doubts about pursuing a postdoctoral fellowship. The honest answer? No, but I have done a lot of thinking about whether continuing in academia is still the right choice for me. Doubts about pursuing tenure-track positions in academia are sometimes viewed as a negative because the field interprets “doubts” as being less dedicated. In reality, I think that it is a healthy life skill to ensure that the goals you developed 10 yr earlier are still what you desire. These doubts have given me the opportunity to have conversations with myself about what I enjoy (e.g., teamwork) and do not enjoy about my job and how those factors relate to my life values. I have learned to consider whether the things I love about my job exist in other careers or whether the factors I dislike about my job are temporary or will persist throughout my career. These conversations have become more real for me as my parents have aged and my goals of one day starting a family have not occurred as quickly as I had hoped. Am I missing too many core memories with my parents? Will I be able to balance my future family while pursuing my career goals? Do I pursue a career less aligned with my career goals, but would decrease my work hours, or remain in academia in hopes of, among other things, contributing to gender equality in academia? What if I cannot get pregnant by the time I am in a “good place” in my career? As a gay woman of reproductive age, the intersection of these worries with the decision not to apply to tenure track positions in states where reproductive rights and/or the rights of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) community are being limited (which is ∼50% of U.S. states) feels terrifying and unfair after 10 yr of hard work. I know I alone will not fix these barriers in academia, but I do know if I leave academia, I will not be able to help fix them either. That feels like something worth fighting for.

I do not know what the future will hold, but I know the indirect paths are worth taking and that things always work out in the end. I have no doubt my career will be no different.

JOSHUA TREMBLAY (Ph.D., DEER WHISPERER, SIX-NOON-SIXER)

I must be up front when describing and reflecting upon my academic path: I am a second-generation academic and my entry point into physiology research would not have happened without the involvement of my dad. I went to the University of Guelph to study Human Kinetics and French Studies for my undergraduate degree. Following my second year, I was connected (through my dad) with a research team from the University of British Columbia who were conducting pulmonary and exercise physiology research with Kenyan distance runners at Kenyatta University in Nairobi. I joined the team, gaining valuable hands-on experience and, despite my interpersonal limitations, networking. Back in Guelph, I was heavily involved in student government and put little thought into what I wanted to do once I graduated. I was disorganized, but I unsuccessfully approached a few laboratories about doing a fourth-year research project. Despite this, I remained interested in research but did not meet inclusion criteria for any ongoing studies. Fortunately, I was invited to observe muscle biopsies, though my exposure to research while at Guelph was limited. I remember sitting on the floor of my partner’s art gallery space at one point with some flipchart paper writing out all of the things that I was interested in; I guess hoping that some great idea for future directions would manifest. I am not sure how, but it may be because I had some interest in altitude physiology stemming from a conference in Colorado Springs that I went to with my dad when I was younger, but I became really interested in environmental physiology. At this stage, I knew that I was interested in cardiopulmonary physiology and environmental physiology.

Midway through my final year of undergraduate studies deadlines for applying to graduate school were approaching. I reached out to the principal investiagtors (PIs) from the University of British Columbia that I helped out with in Kenya, and they suggested contacting a new faculty member, who, at the time, was a postdoc while we were in Kenya and had just taken up a position at the University of British Columbia–Okanagan and was looking for graduate students. Another student and I would be the first graduate students in the Cardiopulmonary Laboratory for Experimental and Applied Physiology (which at the time was literally under construction). I had a hard time in the first part of my M.Sc. I was not interested in my research topic. I was starting with virtually no experience and needed guidance. I was bad at asking for help. At times the only thing keeping me there was how much I enjoyed living in Kelowna and running on the cross-country team. Once our laboratory was built, I began developing the skills required to run complex integrative studies. My biggest takeaway was becoming proficient at vascular ultrasound. Toward the end of my M.Sc., I went rock climbing with another PI at UBCO and expressed my interest in altitude physiology, and he invited me to join a forthcoming White Mountain research trip and encouraged me to develop my own research study. I enthusiastically agreed to join as a vascular sonographer and was able to run a straightforward, focused study. As much as I loved this, and Kelowna, I appreciated that diversifying my training environment would be critical.

I moved across the country to work in the Cardiovascular Stress Response Laboratory at Queen’s University. Within the first month of starting the program (in January), I received an email from the PI at UBCO who asked if I wanted to join a research expedition to the Pyramid Lab in the Khumbu Valley, Nepal, that November, meaning that baseline testing would be some time before that. I passed this on to my supervisor, who told me that if I wanted to, and could conceive of some studies to include in my thesis, that I would have to complete all of my coursework, my comprehensive exams, and my thesis proposal before then, so I put my head down and had a very busy approximately 6 months. It was worth it.

Throughout my Ph.D., I conducted studies in the laboratory at Queen’s University, while keeping in close contact with other international collaborators. I was heavily involved with an international high-altitude research team, Global REACH, during a research expedition to Peru in 2018. This expedition formed two more of my Ph.D. thesis studies. On that trip, I met a brilliant echocardiographer with arguably the coolest research experience in comparative cardiac physiology. That echocardiographer manages the International Primate Heart Project (IPHP), which regularly runs cardiovascular health assessments on chimpanzees in African sanctuaries. I told her how interested I was in the project and if they ever wanted to look at the vasculature, I would love to help. I was instructed to email the PI of the IPHP and set up a meeting. Acting on her advice, I arranged a meeting and, a month later, found myself scanning chimpanzees at the Chimfunshi Wildlife Orphanage in Zambia: an extraordinary experience that took place 6 months before defending my Ph.D. I cannot understate the importance of working with supervisors who are willing to embrace unique opportunities. Through the relationships that I maintained and established during my Ph.D., I ended up back at the University of British Columbia–Okanagan.

I loved my postdoc: living in the Okanagan is amazing and I had too many incredible research experiences to list, but my takeaway is how valuable a well-intended unsolicited email can be. My postdoc supervisor and I wanted to connect with a local university to start the Tarahumara Health Project in Mexico, so we cold-emailed researchers in the Facultad de Ciencias de la Cultura Física at the Universidad Autónoma de Chihuahua. We became close collaborators, and the project would not have happened without them. Another example of this is when I saw a preprint come out on high altitude adaptation in geladas, so I emailed the authors to congratulate them on very cool research and to introduce myself, since I did not think there were many folks doing physiology research at high altitude and in nonhuman primates. This led to a fruitful collaboration that is ongoing and has branched to other collaborations that are fundamental to my current research program. All of this is to say, if someone is doing something that you are interested in, let them know! Based on my experience, genuine enthusiasm for a subject and a willingness to engage can open doors and foster meaningful connections in the academic world.

BARBARA OLIVEIRA (Ph.D.)

The inception of my academic journey predates that of many of my peers, stretching back to my childhood when school events prompted us to dress up as our desired professions and I chose to be a teacher. Little did I know at the time that this childhood dream would ultimately materialize into reality but lead to a completely different role.

Throughout my undergraduate studies in Dietetics (completed in Brazil), I gained practical experience in various work environments, ranging from hospitals and clinics to industrial kitchens and schools. However, it was my English teaching endeavors that provided the means to support myself financially. After completing my degree, it seemed only natural to pursue a career in education while aligning my focus with my true passion: sports nutrition. To achieve this, obtaining a master’s degree became imperative.

In my pursuit of sports nutrition, I found the closest avenue through a Physical Education program. However, as a dietitian, securing a spot in this field proved challenging. Thus I embarked on a research adventure as a volunteer, lending my time to assist in a study that involved exercise performance in a heat chamber at the Federal University of Minas Gerais. My hope was to catch the attention of professors and potentially gain acceptance into their master’s program. While I did not achieve that specific outcome due to harsh competition, I did become quite proficient in the meticulous task of cleaning metabolic testing equipment. Moreover, this experience led me to a remarkable course in Sports Training at the same institution, although I ultimately chose not to complete it upon being admitted to a master’s program. Nowadays, I wish I had completed the course, but at that time I was too overwhelmed with upcoming challenges.

The shift from Dietetics to a desire for sports nutrition and eventually delving into Neuroscience may seem incongruous. However, this transformation can be largely attributed to my supervisor, a distinguished professor at the Biochemistry and Immunology Department of the Federal University of Minas Gerais, Brazil. Despite falling short in the competition for the master’s program in Biochemistry and Immunology, I seized the opportunity to work in the laboratory even before the next round of applications. As a volunteer, I immersed myself in preparing and setting up my project, which focused on antioxidant vitamins and their impact on type 1 diabetes.

A year later, a newly established Neuroscience program presented itself, prompting me to apply once again. Unfortunately, my work on type 1 diabetes did not align with the program’s objectives. However, it was adapted to investigate the relationship between antioxidant vitamins and Alzheimer’s disease and was successfully completed within a year, benefiting from the previously established protocols.

Now, one could ask about the initial aspiration of becoming a teacher. During this period, I started teaching undergraduate courses while simultaneously immersing myself in the realm of research, which swiftly emerged as my favored pursuit, leaving teaching aside and leading me to the next step of the predictable academic career, a Ph.D.

Following the successful defense of my master’s dissertation on a Tuesday, by Thursday I received the esteemed acceptance into the Biochemistry and Immunology Ph.D. program. My research endeavors in type 1 diabetes from the past now set the stage for expansion, shaping the core of my work. The anticipated timeline for completion was set at four years, a customary duration for such academic pursuits; however, life’s positive interruptions intervened. Marriage, the arrival of a baby, and the subsequent news of another pregnancy resulted in me taking an academic detour. Thankfully all my data collection was complete, which only left the writing of my Ph.D. thesis, a task that could be accomplished from home. I would work while my baby was in part-time childcare and pregnancy was not an issue. Nevertheless, I found myself on the brink of delivering my second child while simultaneously giving birth to my thesis, a time of accomplishments and challenges.

With the completion of my doctoral journey, a well-deserved break beckoned as I embraced being a mother. However, the passage of time reignited my desire to return to the academic realm. This time, I wanted a distinct experience, one that had long been etched in my dreams: the opportunity to embark on a pursuit abroad. To me, Canada seemed like an ideal destination, offering a promising future and a transformational life for my family. Fate (and luck) guided me to the University of British Columbia, nestled in the beautiful Okanagan region, where an unexpected mentor, Dr Jonathan Little, surpassed all of my expectations.

The postdoctoral experience unfolded with its fair share of challenges, as one would anticipate for someone who had spent numerous years away from the academic forefront, added by the cultural adjustment to a foreign country. Nevertheless, as time elapsed, the obstacles gradually eased, and what was initially envisioned as a 1-year commitment extended to 2 and then 3 years. With the conclusion of the postdoctoral period drawing near, it was imperative to contemplate the next steps on this academic journey.

Unlike students who see themselves as principal investigators, the path of becoming a professor was never felt as a viable option for me since I prefer being supervised than supervising. Instead, the perfect plan entailed staying in research, where I could continue embracing the scientific world within a secure and predictable setting, perfectly harmonizing with the demands of family life. I have found fulfillment in my current position as a clinical research coordinator where my supervisor provides a comfortable, flexible, but still challenging work environment. The initial dream of becoming a teacher ultimately led me into the captivating world of research. As for teaching, I might say that the future holds unexpected pathways. A piece of advice to my past self and students is to try focusing on where you want to be as a professional and dedicate to the path toward achieving it. Plans can change along the way, but as time passes, it is better to have regrets about what was done rather than what was not accomplished.

HASHIM ISLAM (Ph.D.)

I was uncertain about what I really wanted to do going into the last year of my undergraduate degree. I had toyed with the idea of going to medical school or physiotherapy, though had never taken either option seriously enough to be competitive. I found my passion for exercise physiology and metabolism while enrolled in a course taught by Dr. Tom Hazell, the scientist who initially inspired me to embark on the path I am on today. Suddenly, the same concepts that I had glazed over in introductory biology became extremely interesting when placed in the context of sport and exercise, which had always been a big part of my life. My head began filling with questions about how and why exercise had such profound effects on the human body; I had suddenly found what I really wanted to do but was still unsure about how to make this into a career.

When I approached Tom with the possibility of doing a project in his laboratory, he challenged me to conceive a research question that I found intriguing. My fellow classmate and I, both bodybuilding enthusiasts at the time, came up with a relatively simple study to test different creatine formulations for muscle strength and performance. Soon thereafter, we were off purchasing tubs of creatine and enrolling our “gym rat” buddies, who needed little convincing to take free creatine and lift weights, to participate in this “ground-breaking” (at least to us at the time) scientific experiment we were conducting. This was a turning point in my academic journey: I now knew how to make what I really wanted to do into a career.

At this point, I had made up my mind about pursuing grad school with the end goal of landing a faculty position. I was briefly discouraged when potential supervisors whom I contacted either did not respond or only accepted A⁺ students who would be competitive for scholarships. Luckily, working with Tom had allowed me to showcase my work ethic, dedication, and passion for research that my transcripts could not reflect and he agreed to take me on as a master’s student. The caveat was that I would have to move from Alberta to Ontario. The thought of moving to a different province seemed daunting at the time, but I was committed to my career goal, so I viewed it as an opportunity to experience a new part of Canada. In hindsight, I now know that completing my master’s, Ph.D., and postdoctoral training at different institutions has allowed me to expand my network, develop new expertise, and adapt to working in different environments: all factors that have collectively positioned me to succeed as an academic.

Although I would have thoroughly enjoyed continuing within the same area of research as my master’s degree, I also wanted to study metabolism at a more basic level and dive deeper into the cellular and molecular realm of physiology. Tom was also supportive of pursuing a new area to “add to the toolbox” as he liked to call it, which would allow me to expand my skill set for future training and career opportunities. He put in a good word with Dr. Brendon Gurd at Queens University, whose work in muscle physiology had captivated me for some time and I was fortunate that Brendon accepted me as a Ph.D. student.

My Ph.D. was a time of marked growth and development, both as an exercise metabolism researcher and (unexpectedly) as a teacher. I never envisioned teaching would be a big part of my Ph.D., but a last-minute opening to teach an introductory physiology course arose during my first year. I was hesitant to accept due to a fear of public speaking and no formal teaching experience but agreed knowing that teaching experience is required for most faculty positions. This was one of the best decisions of my academic career even as a “researcher”; helping others learn physiology deepened my own understanding beyond what I would have otherwise achieved. Under the mentorship of Drs. Brendon Gurd and Michael Tschakovsky (both phenomenal scientists and educators), I helped implement an innovative pedagogical approach that emphasized general models to help students gain a more unified understanding of physiology (based on an approach originally proposed by Harold Model; Ref. 4). This approach not only helped me in the classroom but was also incredibly useful in the laboratory when designing studies, choosing the most appropriate outcomes, and interpreting findings. I developed a passion for teaching that I never anticipated but deeply value, going on to teach both introductory physiology and upper year metabolism courses for subsequent years of my Ph.D.

As a current postdoctoral fellow in Professor Jonathan Little’s laboratory at the University of British Columbia (someone whose work I had long admired), I have spent the last three years researching inflammation in the context of exercise and type 2 diabetes allowing me to continue adding more “tools” to my toolbox. Having devoted a significant portion of my Ph.D. to teaching, I am now able to focus on other skills needed to succeed as a faculty member such as grant writing, student supervision, and service. Switching research areas throughout my degrees and training has also given me a better idea of what my own research program will look like. I feel incredibly fortunate to have “stood on the shoulders of giants” throughout my journey and attribute whatever success I have had largely to the mentorship I have received and the people I have worked with.

I realize not everyone will relate to the experiences I have shared here constituting a largely positive reflection of my journey (not for a lack of ups and downs but because believe in focusing on the good). I will leave you with some practical advice or “take-home points” that may be useful to others embarking on a similar journey: 1) Take on new challenges even if they seem daunting. Saying “yes” to opportunities can make for some long days but, in my experience, this always leads to a sense of accomplishment and a new appreciation for where your boundaries lie (not to mention more experience on your curriculum vitae); 2) Be a great colleague. Science is a collaborative endeavor and helping others, from laboratory mates needing help with data collection to trainees looking for feedback on a paper, will get you further than competing with others (a sentiment best captured by the “rising tide raises all ships” analogy); and 3) Pursue research that you are passionate about. This sounds cliché and may not resonate for everyone in grad school but I often find work, whether it be writing, performing an experiment, or designing a study, does not really feel like work (emphasis on the often here, I still have a life outside research). I deeply believe that this passion for exercise physiology, which is what set me on this path in the first place, has been the primary reason I have stayed motivated and continue working hard toward my goals.

ANDRÉ TEIXEIRA [Ph.D., SOCCER, SCIENCE, AND BEER (RANDOMIZED)]

My academic journey started during my undergraduate studies in Physical Education in Brazil. Inspired by an exceptional professor, I realized that my career goal was to become a researcher in the field of exercise cardiovascular physiology. Although my institution had very limited resources with no M.Sc. or Ph.D. program, I was able to begin my academic pathway by participating in the weekly undergraduate-driven journal clubs. In Brazil, a common requirement to obtain a B.Sc. degree is to complete a research-based thesis. Unlike my peers, I decided to complete an original investigation rather than a systematic review. I decided to study the impact of the menstrual cycle on body image (dis)satisfaction, which eventually became my first lead-author publication. This experience strengthened my passion for science, and my next step was to obtain an M.Sc. degree.

I applied for an M.Sc. program in my hometown (Juiz de Fora, Brazil). Despite being unsuccessful in my first attempt, one of the committee members invited me to participate in their weekly journal club. I quickly realized that the research interests of the laboratory did not align with my own. Therefore, I applied for a different program and began my master’s degree in Exercise and Sports Science at the State University of Rio de Janeiro. To avoid renting a place in Rio, I decided to drive back and forth (∼160 km) and keep working part-time as a personal trainer to complement my scholarship. Despite several ups and downs, my academic goal remained solid, and following the defense of my M.Sc., I was certain that enrolling in a Ph.D. program was the right path for me.

A thousand kilometers away, the University of Brasilia became my “new home.” Under the mentorship of Dr. Lauro Vianna, I had the opportunity to dive deep into cutting-edge human cardiovascular physiology research, teaching, mentoring, leadership, critical thinking, the peer-review process, new laboratory techniques, grantsmanship, honing my communication skills, exploring collaborations, and attending international conferences. More importantly, in addition to being an outstanding mentor, Dr. Vianna became a very close friend.

One piece that was missing in my academic journey, and is often strongly encouraged, was international experience. Hence, I decided that my postdoctoral training should be accomplished abroad. Fortunately, the solid network I had built during my Ph.D. allowed me to pursue such a goal. I met my future postdoctoral supervisor, Dr. Philip Millar from the University of Guelph (Canada), at the 2017 American Physiological Society (APS) meeting Experimental Biology. Two years later during the same meeting, he attended my poster presentation and, following a fruitful scientific discussion, he invited me to join his laboratory.

I defended my Ph.D. thesis in August 2019 and a month later, I arrived in Canada. It was a new country, new culture, new language, new environment, and far away from my family and friends. It became even harder a few months later when I experienced the Canadian winter for the first time. Nevertheless, little did I know that the real struggle was about to spread: the COVID-19 pandemic. Going through several lockdowns and not being able to go to the laboratory was unfortunate, but what really affected me was the idea that something could happen with my family in Brazil and I would not be able to fly back. Despite all the setbacks, my initial one-year contract became a three-year contract, and working from home allowed me to explore several online resources. For example, the APS offers a vast array of opportunities for early career physiologists such as the Professional Skills Training Program and the Center for Physiology Education. Noteworthy, after participating in the APS Reviewer Training Program, I became a regular reviewer for the APS journals and was invited to join the American Journal of Physiology (AJP)-Regul Early Career Reviewer Board and the AJP-Heart Editorial Board. Nevertheless, the best milestone of my life experience in Canada was the welcoming of my son.

Following a well-appreciated “time off” during parental leave, I am currently facing the challenge of obtaining a permanent faculty position. In addition to being scarce and very competitive, securing a tenure-track position in Canada is very difficult for nonresident applicants. Having a newborn without job security is overwhelming to say the least, and after 13+ years of academic training, I have deep concerns that my dream as a scientist will not come to fruition. If I decide to continue my academic pursuit, I will likely need to find another postdoctoral fellowship until I secure a permanent position. Now that I have a family, I cannot wait forever. Who knows how long this is going to take?

In closing, I would like to share a few pieces of advice for the next generation of physiologists based on my personal experience in academia. 1) Learn about the laboratory before applying for a position. If the laboratory performs human research, volunteer to participate in their projects. You can also contact the senior graduate students to ask questions about their experiences. 2) Recognize your weaknesses and do not hesitate to ask for help. Above all else, do not let the imposter syndrome turn you away. 3) If you are an international student, learn or improve your English as soon as possible and be aware that you will likely need to work harder to achieve your goals than your native English-speaking peers. 4) Be active in your scientific community and build a solid network. 5) Be prepared to receive criticism and do not take it personally. 6) When you become a mentor or a reviewer, be scientifically rigorous but also kind and respectful. 7) Treat others as you would like to be treated and remember: be a human first and a scientist second. 8) Be aware that permanent faculty positions are scarce, and you will probably need to move from your hometown. This may be challenging if you have a partner or kids. 9) Do not expect to be well paid as a trainee. In fact, the salary for graduate students and postdoctoral fellows is unfairly low. 10) Be patient and know that the time frame between your Ph.D. defense and securing a permanent faculty position is highly variable. Finally, and most importantly, find a good work-life balance, keep your sense of humor, and enjoy the ride.

L. MADDEN BREWSTER (Ph.D., APPALACHIA NATIVE, RESIDENT TREAT MAKER, BETTER ON SKIS THAN FEET)

As summer 2021 rolled into another semester, I was 3 years entrenched into a never-ending Ph.D. program with little hope and all the classic symptoms of imposter syndrome. Although I had more mental clarity in my personal life than I had for the past several years (I was over a year sober at this point), I still felt largely dissociative and disconnected from my research. My plans to stay in academia were nonexistent and I often fantasized about walking away from science altogether. My first upcoming research expedition to a high-altitude region of Peru to work alongside the brilliant Professor Phil Ainslie and his research team from UBCO had been foiled by remnants of the COVID-19 pandemic, leaving me with little to look forward to that semester. Fortunately, Professor Ainslie and his students seemed to have their hands in various global projects, so, instead, I was graciously invited to join a free diving research initiative in Split, Croatia. Thanks to this experience and those involved, the true potential of research and academia dawned on me during this trip and the following research expeditions I completed with Professor Ainslie’s team. I forged a competent, supportive, and extensive scientific community during this time, which helped me to reimagine the academic space. This collaborative work also served to highlight some of the unspoken abuses of power I had experienced and witnessed throughout my graduate training.

I outline some of these potential problematic themes as the “red flags” of academia below. Colloquially, a red flag is a negative trait that serves as a warning to deeper issues associated with a person and/or institution. My hope in identifying these red flags is that it will not only serve as a navigational tool for other young academics, but also as a personal reminder to maintain healthy, professional boundaries that mitigate toxic spaces in academia. I write these red flags with full cognizance of my naivete and inexperience, and I must remind the reader that these subjective ideas simply reflect my own personal experience and observations throughout my academic training.

In academia, it is a red flag if

• 1)There is major resistance to your professional development and natural evolution as a young investigator. Experiencing new mentors, colleagues, and environments is both necessary and beneficial to your career. A mentor that does not support the evolution of your career likely will continue to exploit you in exchange for as little as possible.
• 2)Collaboration is discouraged. It should go without saying that collaboration almost always makes for better research initiatives and catalyzes the progression of your field, which should be the goal of every scientist. In my opinion, science done in secrecy and isolation will limit the breadth and impact of your research.
• 3)A healthy work-life balance is not encouraged and celebrated. Graduate school and being an academic is hard work, but if you cannot learn to properly implement a work-life balance, you will ultimately burn out. Academia ebbs and flows; I suggest learning to give 110% and build resiliency during the flow and rest, play, and reset during the ebb.
• 4)There is any semblance of sexism/racism/classism/discrimination/harassment/etc. This may seem obvious, but it can be easy to overlook covert or occasional instances of these “-isms,” especially when the perpetrators are highly respected (and tenured). Those “little” slights underlie a deeper bias, which, can become internalized and, I believe, also affects the broader academic community.
• 5)You are treated like a laboratory technician. It is true, technical training is one necessary component of graduate training. However, other pedagogical skills must also be part of your professional development plan.
• 6)The focus of doing research is for the money. This point is nuanced and difficult to detect or even avoid since research is economically driven and universities are, after all, businesses. Doing research requires funding, however, some grants can come with large kickback incentives for PIs. If a researcher’s focus is financially based rather than academically based, it is likely that the science (and your research experience) will suffer. This can be hard to gauge, but over time you may be able to tease out primary motivations.
• 7)You are discouraged from professional development activities. I suggest engaging in a broad range of academic activities, regardless of whether it seems impressive on a curriculum vitae or not.
• 8)You are regularly discouraged from challenging ideas. Disagreements are important as they are often what drive our research questions. Moreover, our curiosity as scientists to stray from the status quo makes the work we do so valuable and innovative. We must push back against ideas when we have good evidence to do so.
• 9)Feedback on your work is given on a quid pro quo basis. Part of a supervisor’s job description is to provide you with instruction and feedback regardless of what you may provide for them. I maintain that bartering for feedback on your work is not appropriate in the mentor-mentee dynamic, especially when combined with executing personal tasks for someone that are outside of your role as a graduate student.
• 10)Physical outbursts are commonplace in the academic environment. This should be obvious, but it can be easy to become desensitized to it (e.g., slamming doors or throwing/kicking of inanimate objects), particularly if everyone around the perpetrator has normalized this. However, this behavior is entirely unacceptable.

I do not place blame on my predecessors or others involved throughout my undergraduate and graduate training. There is good evidence to back generational trauma in families, and I think this concept likely extends to the academic “family” as well. Being a toxic academic is probably a slow and unnoticeable transition until you become part of the problem, repeating the same old patterns of mentors you swore you would never become. As trainees, we have an incredible responsibility to change this system and make it better for our successors. Tenure should not be an immunity blanket used to unconditionally protect abusers; however, fighting the negative elements of this space may best be done as we rise to our own positions of power. I would like to reiterate that this is not to rag on academia; I am still here because there are invaluable components and people within this unique system which I love. However, we must have the courage and collective self-awareness to evolve all of academia into a sustainable, inclusive, and productive community, designed to successfully break this generational trauma.

VICTORIA L. MEAH (Ph.D., THE BLACK SHEEP)

My section might read a little different, as I want to focus on my reflections since leaving academia, rather than the specifics of my journey. In brief, I was a successful postdoc, with a dream tenure track position lined up. After going through an existential career crisis over many months, I declined the position, left my postdoc, transitioned out of academia into the public sector, and settled permanently into life in the Canadian Rockies. Now that time has passed, I have gained clarity on my unexpected departure from the academic career path. By sharing my thoughts, I hope that anyone who resonates with these words might feel a little less alone and see that life beyond the academic bubble can be great too.

During my postdoc, I burnt out. Though I did not realize it at the time, my passion was slowly being replaced with cynicism and frustration with academia. Then, the pandemic hit, and I found that it drastically calmed my life. The enforced pause allowed me to start a family, something I had always put on hold until my job was more secure (sadly, a common consideration for females in academia). This is not a sentence I thought I would ever write, but lockdown and a baby saved my mental health. The break from academia during parental leave gave me the space to see how burnt out I really was and how much it had been affecting all areas of my life. I could not see an end to the mental and emotional exhaustion that had built year upon year, and putting myself through that no longer felt worth it, so I decided to walk away. It can be hard to recognize burnout in yourself, but if I can offer a simple piece of advice: take breaks often and acknowledge the work you put on your mind and body over the years of academic training. Do not let the stress build up to the point that you go up in flames.

The pressure on trainees comes from every direction in academia. I do not think there is enough collective effort placed to break old habits or conventions (“that’s just how it is”), reduce unnecessary stressors, and/or to encourage decompression/life outside the laboratory. Here are a few thoughts that might help someone, somewhere.

• 1)Academia could do with tighter checks and balances to improve the treatment of trainees. Now that I have experienced a different working environment with leaders who have spent much time and effort honing their people management skills, I can say that academics can do more to improve their leadership. As I look back, there are moments in which I should not have accepted poor treatment of myself or others, and I feel I should have done more. Advocating for oneself in these moments is challenging, as academic power dynamics can lead you to believe that you do not have a voice, but you do. Kindness, mutual respect, and acceptance of boundaries are the minimum you should expect when interacting with another human, regardless of their status. Anything less is not acceptable. I am sure that, dear trainee, you have and will encounter many instances across your career in academia where these basic standards are not met. We can all do better to prevent toxic academic culture from continuing and I have faith that my peers who have recently become professors are the tide of change in creating more positive trainee experiences.
• 2)Trainees are not well remunerated considering the skills, knowledge, and experience they bring but academia has a strange way of making us celebrate that we are paid at all. I cannot offer any solutions to that behemoth of a problem, but I can share advice a wise friend of mine once shared with me. If you do have a salary as a trainee, work out your “real” hourly rate. For example, as a postdoc in Canada, your contract may be 40 hours per week with a $40k per annum stipend. Working these contracted hours equates to an hourly rate of $19 before tax but working ∼65 hours (just an extra couple of hours per day plus one of your weekend days) reduces that to $12 per hour, well below minimum wage. These numbers are even more dire as a graduate student. We often overwork or work for free as we are “going to get our name on a paper.” Sure, you might get another line on the curriculum vitae, but if you are consistently overworking, you are devaluing yourself. I would also argue that overworking or working for free will keep our wages as low as they are, as well as perpetuating unrealistic expectations for others who may not be so privileged in their time or finances.
• 3)There is an expectation that trainees must move labs/cities/provinces/countries to continue our careers, even though we may have no desire to do so. After my Ph.D., moving across the world was an adventure I wanted. Long term, it has changed my life for the better and I would do it again without hesitation, but short term, it did place strain on my life and relationships. Moving away from loved ones, trying to build new connections/hobbies (in the middle of Canadian winter), and dealing with the financial and logistical challenges of relocation can be a burden. We are conditioned to accept the instability of moving during our training but with little thought about the wider impacts on our lives and how long it can take to settle in a new place (normally, just in time for us to leave for the next position). I therefore think it is important to normalize trainees moving, or not moving, based solely on their priorities and to increase acceptance that you do not have to constantly move to be an incredible researcher.

Five years ago, I would not have believed that I would have turned down a tenure track position and be in another career. Clearly, plans can change. I made this transition harder on myself by blindly following the academic railroad, not considering that I could change trains or get off at any station. My advice would be to explore your wider career options often. If you do find yourself considering alternative routes, find people with experience of career shifts to talk to. Within your school, there certainly are trainees who left that could help. I for one, would always be willing to talk to and support others feeling out of place, tired, or lost in academia.

I still do not know what I want to do “when I grow up” and I have become more comfortable with not knowing what my future holds. I am thankful for each and every experience I had as an academic researcher as I now understand what is important to me as well as how to live by my values. I sometimes mourn for what my academic career could have been, I sometimes yearn for the innovation of research (and the fun of conferences), and I sometimes wonder if I could get back there. Then, I remind myself of the healthy work-life balance I now have, normally while walking out my front door into the mountains, calm and happy with enough mental space to patiently answer my preschooler’s endless “why” questions and it feels right. Writing this piece reaffirmed how at peace I am with my decision to shift careers and how much happiness that has brought into all aspects of my life, although I will always miss my laboratory mates, who feel more like family. I will sign off by saying to any dinosaurs out there that may believe leaving academia is “failing,” please come visit me and let me show you otherwise.

MICHAEL TYMKO (Ph.D., S.B., ENJOYER OF HEAVY IPAs, AND HITS A LONG BALL)

Despite tight finances and having my first entry application rejected, I was beyond determined to leave my hometown and pursue graduate school. Armed with nothing more than a mattress on the floor and an old TV my parents gifted me, I rented a room from my eccentric mentor, the late Dr. Christopher Willie. Chris was complex and extraordinary, and a great friend to many. He was the one who taught me the significance of embracing adventure, and the story behind his tragic passing, which can be read elsewhere (5), was an important reminder to not take life too seriously. I consider myself fortunate to have received unwavering support from supervisors and mentors who facilitated my involvement in diverse projects and enabled me to conduct fieldwork in beautiful regions of the world such as Nepal, Peru, and parts of Europe. I also reached outside of my comfort zone and started my own business that specializes in making custom human physiology research equipment. Throughout this transformative journey, I remained steadfast in preserving a harmonious work-life balance. I tried to do everything with purpose and burned the candle at both ends. At the end of my Ph.D., I felt as if nothing could stop me. I was eventually awarded with the Governor’s Gold Medal that year as the universities top Ph.D. graduate. Nothing could get between me and a university faculty position, or so I thought.

Life is full of unexpected surprises. The morning I relocated for my postdoc, my wife and I found out that we were expecting our first child. When she was ∼12 wk along, with excitement, we shared the news with our family and friends. Sadly, just a week after that, my wife, who was living hundreds of kilometers away completing her education, called to tell me that she was going through a miscarriage. I felt helpless. I could not get to her in time. Both of us were living in new cities with no family or friends. I sat in silence as the doctor confirmed the miscarriage to me while I was on speakerphone. I remember nearly every minute of that night. I doubt I will ever forget it. In the realm of academia, it is considered a weakness if young trainees do not broaden their perspectives and hone their skills through a succession of relocations to new cities and laboratories. I was also a believer in this course of thought, and all accountability lies with me. Despite this, I still feel foolish for how many times I have moved throughout my training, and question whether it truly was a necessity.

They say time heals everything, and I managed to find relief by throwing myself back into my work. I helped organize another high-altitude expedition alongside my supportive postdoctoral supervisor scheduled for April 2020, and things started looking up. I will not delve into the obvious details, but as the world grappled with the COVID-19 pandemic, our research expedition, along with the 10–12 projects we had meticulously planned as a team, came to an abrupt halt. Like many other laboratories, our research operations were shut down for ∼1 year and we were told to stay home, which I found very difficult to do. Nevertheless, amidst the chaos, my wife finished her training as a nurse and relocated to where I was living, and she became pregnant again. In addition, I had some upcoming promising interviews for permanent faculty posts. In early 2021, I received exciting news of my selection for an assistant professor job overseas, and my 6-month-pregnant wife and I embraced the adventure and were excited to write a new chapter in our lives. Without hesitation, we sold almost everything we owned: our vehicles, recreational trailer, tools, and even our bed. One of the last things we had to our name was a large sectional couch, so we had somewhere to sleep just before our departure. We gave our landlord notice that we were leaving, and they had organized new tenants. My external postdoctoral funding expired in the same month as my new position start date. We thought we had timed this perfectly. Three weeks before our departure, a crushing blow landed: we were informed that due to the pandemic-related delays in issuing healthcare, we would not be covered for labor and delivery. The university was unable to accommodate us, so I had no choice but to withdraw from the position. Suddenly, we found ourselves homeless and jobless in a city with no family and few friends, and our daughter was eager to join us earthside. While my wife was not home, I sat on our couch, the last remnant of our belongings, and wept for an entire day, thinking that I had irreparably ruined our lives.

The next day I decided to stand up straight and get to work. I reached out to all my old colleagues and friends, and I was able to Frankenstein together a somewhat livable salary through various part-time work. If it were not for the help and support of my academic friends, I really do not know what we would have done. A wise academic mentor, and more importantly, a great friend, once told me, “Relationships are all we have,” and in those moments I finally understood what he meant. I am forever indebted to those that helped us during that time.

My wife and I relocated once again, temporarily moving back in with family until, 1 week before our daughter’s birth, we managed to find a place of our own to live. For the better part of a year, I took on any work I could find. However, I gradually became disenchanted, feeling unmotivated, angry, anxious, and deeply unhappy. I had not worked on anything I enjoyed for ∼2 years. In retrospect, I exhibited some arrogant behavior, trying to mask my unhappiness, and I apologize deeply to anyone who encountered that. I grew disillusioned with nearly every aspect of the once-beloved job. I felt trapped. Moreover, I came face-to-face with the harsh reality that job prospects are scarce for a human physiologist like myself. I wish deeply that I was warned about this before I started my training. The inherent instability of academic contracts further exacerbated my concerns. With the arrival of my first child and the culmination of these factors, I was convinced that leaving academia was my only option. I was tired of earning the embarrassingly low graduate student and postdoctoral salaries that Canada offers, I was tired of relocating, and I was tired of the stress. For all intents and purposes, I was “checked out.”

Why am I sharing all of this? Despite multiple industry job interviews and offers, it did not feel right. I decided I enjoyed the multidisciplinary aspect of academia too much to leave just yet. On my computer, I always keep a work-related list of tasks, and it was around the time of these interviews that I inscribed bold letters at the top of the page: “Enjoy it! Today is the youngest you’ll ever be.” It is astonishing how a simple reminder can unravel the turmoil of a spiraling mind. This simple phrase has remained a constant reminder to relish in the present moment, and to stop sweating the small stuff, a lesson once learned years ago from my friend Chris that I had since forgotten. Not long after I was finally able to secure an assistant professor position. My journey from a focused graduate student to a lost postdoc taught me many valuable life lessons. For aspiring graduate students, if this career path is truly what you burn for, my counsel is straightforward: be persistent, embrace every opportunity, allow your passion to serve as your guide, but avoid letting your work dominate your identity. Nonetheless, it is critical that you understand the possible financial burdens associated with graduate school and the stresses linked to relocating for your training. Also know, that if a storm rolls through, the dust will eventually settle. Sometimes, it takes longer than expected, but with continued hard work things often fall into place, and most importantly, make sure to always remind yourself to enjoy the journey and refrain from taking life too seriously.

FINAL WORDS FROM DR. TYMKO

Most evenings, it was commonplace for Chris Willie and me to share and reflect on the events of our days in his small wooden kitchen over pints of rich, dark ale. Among these cherished moments, one night in particular stands out in my memory. Chris was a soul full of struggle, not unlike many of us, especially in the realm of academia. No matter how voraciously he devoured knowledge on a subject, it frustrated him that there was always “so much more to learn.” I remember responding, “Isn’t that the beauty of it?” We then lapsed into a shared silence, and although he is no longer here to confirm, I think he was in agreeance as we finished our nectar. In academia, there is so much room for creativity, and at any given moment, you can work toward reshaping your interests and goals. Although the structure of academia can be off-putting, it really is a beautiful thing through the eyes of the curious.

Perhaps through this lens, it becomes clear why the seemingly straightforward query “What is it that you do?” can cast such a profound shadow over many of us. The academic world brims with a myriad of responsibilities and countless self-defining avenues, often making it a daunting task to put our job descriptions into words. This revelation, woven through the elegant narratives of our co-authors, illuminates the erratic nature of the academic journey and hopefully gives prospective trainees insight into what it is like to be a graduate student. To those young scholars looking toward the academic landscape, eager to be architects of knowledge within its ivory towers, let this truth be your compass: it is permissible to tread a unique path, to navigate the crests and troughs, to harbor doubts, to embrace adventure, and to trek outside your comfort zone: these realities of your journey are the heartbeat of existence (at least in my opinion). As a final thought, inspired by the excerpts of the co-authors, it is obvious that academia is not perfect, but there is clearly hope. What is urgently needed now are young scientists who recognize both its merits and faults while remaining motivated to preserve and enhance the beauty of this institution, fueled by a passion for scientific curiosity and mentorship.

GRANTS

L. E. DuBose is supported by the Foundation for the National Institutes of Health (FNIH) Grants F32AG071273 and K12HD057022.

DISCLOSURES

No conflicts of interest, financial or otherwise, are declared by the authors.

AUTHOR CONTRIBUTIONS

C.D.B. and M.M.T. conceived and designed research; C.D.B. and M.M.T. drafted manuscript; C.D.B., L.E.D., J.C.T., B.O., H.I., A.L.T., L.M.B., V.L.M., and M.M.T. edited and revised manuscript; C.D.B., L.E.D., J.C.T., B.O., H.I., A.L.T., L.M.B., V.L.M., and M.M.T. approved final version of manuscript.