May 29, 2018
Taken from

I am a first-generation Mexican-American scholar, and while I am not the first person in my family to attend college, I am the first to earn a four-year degree, a master’s and a Ph.D. In addition, I am also the first postdoc from my program at the University of Southern California to transition to a tenure-track faculty position.

This fall, I will be an assistant professor of education at the University of Southern California Rossier School of Education. Stories like mine often foreground grittiness and/or persistence as characteristics necessary for success. While it is true that my larger story is filled with examples of overcoming structural barriers, I am ultimately uninterested in framing my story as a hero narrative.

In fact, I will go so far as to say that hero narratives in academe, especially when they are about people of color, are dangerous because they encourage searching for flawless beings rather than searching for great scholars who are imperfect — just like everyone else. They can also discourage reflecting on why being a “model” or “exceptional” minority is a requirement to begin with.

Now that I have told you what I won’t be doing, it seems prudent to mention my goals. In a series of monthly pieces for Inside Higher Ed, I will focus on how I navigate the tenure process from start to finish. I hope to share lessons learned from my perspective in hopes that other people can learn from it. While each topic will be different, I will ground them all on my belief that success in higher education is not only predicated on one’s work but also on how the scholarly community receives that work. Understood in that way, success in the academy can be reframed as enacting a semipublic persona successfully — one that is positioned to be relevant within and beyond one’s discipline — while still being an authentic representation of who one wants to be.

I often liken this process to playing a game of chess. In chess, the positions of the pieces matter more than the pieces themselves. At the start of the game, a player’s most powerful piece, the queen, is isolated and relatively useless. It isn’t until the weakest pieces, the pawns, move that the board opens up. Yet, even then, the pieces must work in concert and be well positioned in order to win the game. Along the way, some pieces are sacrificed for the benefit of the player’s advancement.

Similarly, the purpose of my essays will be to share insights about positioning oneself to be successful — to communicate my understanding of the academic chessboard.

To start, I will share what I have learned during my transition from being a postdoc to a tenure-track faculty member. While any such advice is necessarily coupled with a person’s particular experience, I hope my perspective will nonetheless be helpful to other postdocs who are about to begin their appointments, or who are in the middle of them or close to finishing them.

What does it mean to transition from being a postdoc to holding a tenure-track faculty position? Ideally, it is the culmination of thoughtful planning. You can’t just enter into a tenure-track position after being a postdoc by chance. As a postdoc, you must attend to many context-specific variables if you are to avoid being simply seen as an advanced graduate student instead of the independent scholar you aim to be.

Before Starting Your Postdoc

Postdocs typically know where they are headed months ahead of time. This gives an incoming postdoc valuable lead time to research the position, the new institution and the people who will make up their new academic community. If you are about to begin a postdoc, then the following questions should guide the research you do before you arrive.

How are you funded? There are many types of postdocs, and it is important to know what kind you have. The most common postdocs are supported by grants. Being a grant-funded postdoc means you will work for the principal investigator on the project. Thus, the goals of the project — and by extension the goals of the PI — generally come first. Depending on the project’s maturity, such postdocs might allow you to develop more publications and help you build relationships across the university.

On the other end of the spectrum are postdocs that are funded by the university or through external fellowships. These are often coveted positions because they are generally not tied to a particular project or principal investigator. Instead, such postdocs can offer you the freedom and flexibility (and sometimes the budget) to develop your own line of research from the start. The downside, however, is that they may not provide formal mechanisms for you to become a member of a broader research community. Having freedom may also feel daunting because you will be forced to develop your work independently as soon you begin, with limited supervision.

In both of the above cases, you should work to fend off feelings of being an impostor, which can persist beyond graduate school. Have faith in your training and in the distinct qualities and perspectives you have. (Read the previous sentence a few more times until it sinks in.)

Who is your faculty mentor? Often, postdocs are assigned a faculty mentor. Note that mentors should not be confused with advisers; the former guide your work and serve as sounding boards with the expectation that you are a (junior) peer, while the latter generally focus on teaching you how do to the work to begin with. Think of it as the difference between riding a bike with someone who knows the trail you are on well (the mentor) versus learning to ride a bike with someone who has attached training wheels on your bike first (the adviser).

You should have at least one mentor but not feel limited to only one. Do research beforehand and identify faculty members whom you can learn from. Perhaps you know someone who is a successful grant writer. Talking to that person might help you identify parts of their process that work for you. Perhaps another faculty member runs a very productive lab. Talking to them might give you an idea of what efficient procedures look like. No matter whom you identify before you arrive, do so with the goal of learning from them and potentially finding a nexus between your work and theirs.

What are your goals? Postdocs have a limited amount of time to do the work necessary to be viable on the market. Before you start, know what your goals are and where you have shortcomings. Be honest with yourself, and don’t let those shortcomings define who you are as a scholar. Instead, use any identified gaps to guide how you will proceed. (Perhaps you need more publications or a record of writing grants, for example.) Don’t ignore gaps, because they do not go away unless you make an effort to fill them.

Once those gaps have been identified, plan backward to make sure that you have lined up opportunities and resources to fill them. If you lack publications, establish protected time to write. If grants are important, plan to write a few during your postdoc to get a feel for the process — or better yet, win one!

During Your Postdoc Experience

Once you have settled in, it’s time to begin doing the work necessary to make yourself viable on the market.

I plan to write another article on undoing the stigma associated with networking and how networking is simply a different word for building relationships that can be rewarding and productive. For now, suffice to say that you need to build relationships. Schedule coffees and other meetings with faculty members in your department or school. Those meetings will contribute to your professional development and also help you get a feel for what your community sees as important.

Meeting with faculty members is important because the outcomes of such meetings can yield new collaborative projects that also signal your ability to work independently. Trust in your ability to start collaborative projects from scratch by getting to know other faculty and postdocs around you. As an assistant professor you will be expected to do this work, so you might as well get the practice during your postdoc years.

If you are on a grant-funded postdoc, you might become so absorbed with project-related tasks that you neglect developing your own research agenda. Avoid this if at all possible, because the ultimate goal of every postdoc should be to develop a track record of independent research. That might simply mean taking the lead on a part of the project no one else has the time for or interest in.

Regardless of how you are funded, take initiative by starting new projects, attend faculty meetings if you can and find grants to lead. (Note that you may not be able to serve as the formal PI, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take an active role in initiating and shaping a grant.)

Finally, determine if there is a viable pathway forward at your current university. It is rare to transition from a postdoc to a tenure-track faculty position at the same institution — unless, of course, your postdoc is designed to do it. If you identify an opportunity to stay, know what the metrics are and whom to inform when you’ve succeeded in meeting them. Also make it known that you would like to stay, but avoid doing so in a way presumes you “should” stay. Even if there is no formal pathway, you should still demonstrate that your work has value, is innovative and is (probably) fundable.

At the end of your postdoc, it is unlikely that a position will be created just for you, but the time you have taken to build relationships and projects will pay off in the long run. Remember, academe is a relatively small sector, so developing a good reputation can pay dividends well after you’ve completed your postdoc.

Milton Packer thinks that readers must now be the decisive judges of quality

by Milton Packer MD

Taken from

Simon Dack, MD, was the editor-in-chief of the official journal of the American College of Cardiology for 34 years. His office at the Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City was located adjacent to the fellows’ room, and in the 1970s, we often dropped by to see how he made editorial decisions. It was one of the most amazing learning experiences of our careers.

Dr. Dack was the quintessential editor. The journal was his vision; it reflected his values. He solicited papers from the best and brightest. If he asked you to submit a paper, you took the invitation seriously. If you submitted original research, you made sure that it was worth his time.

Starting in the 1970s, the concept of external “peer review” blossomed in cardiology. Officially, the refereeing process moved out of the inner circles of learned societies and involved the critique of papers by outsiders of equal competence. Dr. Dack sent papers out for peer review, but he considered the feedback as advice, rather than an authoritative word.

One afternoon in 1978, I watched him reject three papers that had received two positive reviews, while accepting a paper that had received two negative reviews. I asked him how he could do that.

His response: I read every word of every paper and every review. I know the reviewers’ strengths, weaknesses, and biases. I ask for their opinion. I am not asking them to vote. I am the editor; this is my journal; I make the decisions; and I take responsibility.

The process was not intended to be flawless. Dr. Dack readily admitted that he made mistakes, but he went out of his way to fix them. The process was certainly not democratic or unbiased. But it worked.

He gave a voice to hundreds of young investigators. Many of the most important (and paradigm-shifting) papers in cardiovascular medicine were published because of decisions he made. If there was controversy, he fed the flames. He was exceptionally receptive to new ideas that had scientific merit, and he gave them a platform.

If he asked you to review a paper, you accepted the invitation and worked hard at it. If you submitted a lazy review, he knew it, and he told you so. You never made that mistake again.

Because most journals in medicine at the time were led by unimpeachable intellects like Dr. Dack, it was easy to keep up with scientific advances. For many, one only needed to read the New England Journal of Medicine each week and a few other journals each month and remember what they published. Readers trusted journals to be a reliable source of information.

But 40 years later, the principles, philosophy, and practices of Dr. Dack have disappeared. The trust that physicians formerly placed in journals has evaporated. The reason: the peer-review process doesn’t work anymore.

Now there are hundreds of cardiology journals, and each publishes hundreds of papers each year. It is really easy to submit a paper online, but what happens then? Only a few journals have a single visionary editor who knows every reviewer personally. Instead, the typical journal has dozens of editors who may or may not have the time to read each paper carefully. Instead, they spend a lot of time finding colleagues to perform external peer review.

How easy is it to get good reviewers? It is impossible. Currently, most leading researchers in any given discipline routinely decline to be reviewers. Doing a good review takes hours, and they just don’t have (or won’t make) the time. Many simply say no. Others hand the work over to junior associates — without carefully reviewing their submitted opinions.

Editors routinely struggle to find external reviewers. Often, they must invite 10-15 people to find two or three who agree to review. Even then, the reviews are often superficial and unhelpful. Some reviewers spend only a few minutes looking at the data, and make recommendations based on their fondness (or lack thereof) for the authors or for the conclusions — rather than based on solid standards of scientific examination. If two or three reviewers carry out their responsibilities with equal lack of rigor, egregious errors can be missed, even in top-tier journals.

When the reviews come in (often quite late), editors often feel compelled to accept the opinions of the reviewers even if they are inadequate or biased. Editors are reluctant to overrule the reviewers, fearing that they will refuse to review again in the future. The desire to keep reviewers happy means that even minor revisions are returned to them for a final blessing, thus adding months to the peer-review process.

What happens when a paper is rejected? Typically, it makes little difference. The authors will instantaneously resubmit to another journal — without necessarily fixing any of the errors or limitations that led to the previous rejection. The process continues until some journal is willing to publish the work. There are more journals than there is worthwhile content, and many lower-tier journals struggle to fill their pages. Some will accept nearly every paper, especially if an author is willing to pay outrageous publication fees. In these cases, the peer-review process is a mere formality. If authors are sufficiently persistent, their papers eventually get published somewhere, and sadly, they reside as apparent equals along with their more worthy counterparts on PubMed.

Peer review is not dead, but it no longer achieves what it is intended to do. Moreover, authors can now bypass the process completely by posting unreviewed work on publicly accessible preprint servers. Currently, these are intended to constitute a transitional state, but soon, postings on a preprint server may replace traditional peer review entirely.

Think of this the next time you read a paper and ask: How did this awful manuscript ever get published in a peer-reviewed journal?

Here is what you should be thinking instead. Of course, this paper got published. Now you need to read it carefully to see if it says something credible and worthwhile. The responsibility of distinguishing quality has shifted from the editors to the readers.

Reading a published paper critically is an awesome responsibility. It takes time, effort, relevant background, and methodological experience. But these days, it is more important than ever.