„So…. Why are you still in school? Will you ever graduate?”
In the course of my studies, I’ve been asked something like this not only once while putting a bite of my salted potatoes (the side dish aka. the only vegan dinner option) into my mouth during a family gathering. I’ve grown up in an Austrian mountain village of 600 inhabitants, most of my family works in tourism or construction. None of my closest relatives have an academic background. I attended a ‘Hauptschule’ (today called ‘Neue Mittelschule’ = “lower” secondary school), because the nearest ‘Gymnasium’ (“higher” secondary school) was far away and moving into a student dormitory at the age of 11 would have been necessary. (Today, when asked about my school career, I still find myself in defense mode, insisting that ‘Hauptschulen’ in rural areas are different from those in urban areas.)
This being said, I can consider myself lucky for having obtained an academic degree. Educational opportunities are still largely "inherited" in Austria. While ~57% of children of parents with an academic degree achieve one themselves, it is only ~34% for people like me (with at least one parent with “Matura”/A-levels) and only ~16% for children of parents without “Matura” (Statistik Austria, 2018).
“So… You are not becoming a therapist?”
Don’t get me wrong – I’ve always had my family’s support. “You’re smart – go to university”, they said. They have supported me financially as far as possible. They happily advertised questionnaires for my Bachelor thesis on their Facebook pages. My mum proudly documented and shared my Master’s graduation day in her WhatsApp story.
However, whenever getting asked what their oldest daughter is doing for a living, they are struggling. “She wants to become a doctor. I mean, not a real doctor, not in a hospital. At university.” Change of subject.
It’s not that they don’t want to know. In the beginning, some family members did eventually ask me what my studies are about. “Environmental psychology – what does that mean? So, you are not becoming a therapist?” Aside from an understanding of what this ominous “thing” I now call my work is supposed to be, something else is missing. Namely, a sense of why what I do is relevant. Why science is relevant. While research into medical drugs or technical innovations may be of obvious importance, the social sciences often do not have similarly obvious relevance to the public. Why would you want to find out how microplastics in food is perceived by humans? How is asking 2,500 randomly selected people where in nature they go for recreation supposed to contribute to social justice?
Bringing science into the world – and vice versa
This lines up to the debate around the practical relevance of psychological science. It has been criticized that psychological research suffers from a lack of relevance, accessibility, and applicability to addressing societal problems (Berkman & Wilson, 2021). In other words, we need to bring our science into the world. However, at the same time, we need to bring the world into our science. While this is usually meant in terms of the study subject, I think it can also refer to the researcher. Only studying samples from WEIRD (white, educated, industrialized, rich, democratic) backgrounds and only researchers from WEIRD backgrounds conducting the studies – doesn’t sound too inclusive, does it? Thus, I think science can only benefit from having researchers from a wide range of backgrounds working on societal issues.
However, taking the step into academia is far from easy – for everyone, and in particular for people without academic background. Without any role models at university, let alone in academia. Without the spark of an idea of how things work in research. Not knowing that universities are like corporations in some ways. Not having the unwritten and informal rules and etiquettes of the academic environment whispered into one’s ear. And not naturally seeing oneself confidently speaking up, taking up space – often in front of those who one has seen confidently speaking and taking up space most of one’s life: middle-aged, white male scientists.
Non-native speaker in both worlds
Working in academia with a non-academic background can sometimes feel like balancing on an invisible line between two worlds. On one side of the line, the world my family lives in and that I grew up in, a world of physically demanding hands-on-work including all perks and all strains of rural life. On the other side, the world of academia, a world of ever-changing, inspiring perspectives and fierce competition. And sometimes it can feel like not really fitting in neither of these worlds. As if not speaking the language of either world fluently. “Leonie, can you please speak German?”, when talking to my family, accidently using the word well-being. While at the same time struggling to find adequate vocabulary in work meetings.
Things that I’ve found helpful
Although no biography, no family structure, no educational or professional path can be compared to another and each person deals with their own complex set of experiences, for me, there have been a couple of things that I’ve found helpful and that I would like to share:
· Ask questions!!! The academic system is tough to see through. There will be things, even words, that you don’t understand. At the beginning, I didn’t even know what a grant was (and why everyone seemed to talk about it all the time). So, try to overcome the fear of looking stupid – and ask what you don’t understand.
· Find people to ask those questions! Supervisors/mentors are there to – surprise – supervise/mentor you – to answer your questions. However, especially for basic and informal stuff, it might feel less intimidating to ask people “lower” down the hierarchy. Ask other PhD candidates or postdocs. Most certainly, you’ll realize that they too have been at that exact point.
· Listen and observe! This is something, I realized lately, after spending less time working from home and actually going to the office. A lot is to be learnt through listening to and watching fellow co-workers, also (and especially) outside of official meetings. How do they interact with each other? How are networks being built? How do research ideas evolve? What is essential literature in your field? How do people effectively structure their day/week?
· Value your personal experiences and background! I now believe that there are tons of things about my biography that I and my research can benefit from. Having grown up with different perspectives and values, you might be aware of different things that are of tremendous relevance in good, inclusive research. Also, different types and levels of resilience and perseverance may potentially have emerged from your experiences. Moreover: personally, I am definitely immune to moving into the ivory tower or living in an academic, ‘out-of-touch-with-reality’- bubble. One conversation with my family and I am back down to earth. ????
· Know your worth! Academia needs you! Your experiences, perspectives, knowledge, and thoughts matter! Don’t let negative self-talk persuade you of the opposite. Try shifting your inner dialogue from “I don’t belong in this place!” towards “This place needs people like me!”.
Talk about it! I think, these issues can often be tainted with stigma and shame. If it feels good to you personally, don’t hesitate to share your experiences. They are very, very valid!
Speaking of talking about it: Feel free to share your experiences with me and drop me a message on Twitter (Link: https://twitter.com/LeonieFian) or via Email (leonie.fian@unive.ac.at).
References
Berkman, E. T., & Wilson, S. M. (2021). So useful as a good theory? The practicality crisis in (social) psychological theory. Perspectives on Psychological Science: A Journal of the Association for Psychological Science, 16(4), 864–874. doi.org/10.1177/1745691620969650
Statistik Austria (2018). Erwachsenenbildung 2016/17, Ergebnisse des Adult Education Survey (AES). Statistik Austria. Retrieved from www.statistik.at/wcm/idc/idcplg;
