End of An Academic Dream

Summary

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Podcast Summary: New Books Network – "End of an Academic Dream" (May 21, 2026)

Overview

In this episode of Academic Life on the New Books Network, host Dr. Christina Gessler welcomes Dr. Fidan Chikosman, acquisitions editor at Springer Nature, to discuss her poignant journey out of academia and the insights behind her article "End of an Academic Dream" (Inside Higher Ed). Their conversation explores the mythology and lived reality of academic career aspirations, the emotional toll of precarity and rejection, the process of grieving and transformation, and concrete ideas for reimagining scholarly life to be more humane, inclusive, and sustainable. Through deeply personal reflections, Dr. Chikosman offers support and practical advice for current and former academics navigating similar crossroads.

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Guest Introduction & Academic Journey

[01:28–06:56]

• Dr. Chikosman shares her academic background: humanities undergraduate studies at UCLA, extensive travels for informal education, and ultimately doctoral work on gender, urban spaces, and memory in Istanbul.
• She describes her time conducting independent research in Istanbul as pivotal—grant-funded yet revealing both the autonomy and fragility of academic pursuits amid political instability and institutional constraints.
• Conferences provided both affirmation and exhaustion, highlighting both moments of connection and the deepening precarity of the academic path as she neared her PhD completion.
• Dr. Chikosman began to question the cost and sustainability of her aspirations, leading her to write "End of an Academic Dream" as a way to process grief and transformation.

"What am I chasing, at what cost, and when it, if ever, it will come… So that questioning eventually led me to write 'The End of an Academic Dream.' It was my way of making sense of the grief and clarity that comes with letting go of a dream that I had had since childhood."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [06:15]

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Meaning of "End of an Academic Dream"

[07:35–10:29]

• Chikosman unpacks her title, explaining it was less an acknowledgement of failure than of necessary transformation.
• The "dream" encompassed a future of mentoring, publishing, and belonging in an intellectual community—a vision undermined over years by rejections, precarious work, and invisibility.
• Disappointments were rarely dramatic, but cumulative: the system was extractive and rewarded narrow definitions of success.

"It was frustrating…to write such a title because it meant admitting that the dream I had relied on for so long was no longer sustainable. But it was also liberating, because once I let go of that possible version of myself, I started to see other possibilities."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [09:39]

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The Myth of the Noble Wandering Academic

[11:24–14:29]

• Chikosman addresses the "myth of precarity"—the belief that enduring poverty and instability is noble or necessary for academic meaning.
• Her early influences included female authors from the margins (Virginia Woolf, Simone de Beauvoir, Elif Shafak), whose quiet defiance shaped her awareness of gendered academic experiences.
• Despite frequent travel and interdisciplinary work, her research was often labeled "too niche" or "too foreign"; moments of intellectual affirmation were fleeting, highlighting the emptiness of the supposed rewards of constant sacrifice.

"I realized that the myth was built on a foundation that didn't account for the emotional toll, the financial uncertainty, and the invisibility that so many of us face."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [14:07]

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The Emotional Toll & Identity Loss

[15:27–18:12]

• The collapse of her academic ambitions was existential, not just professional—a gradual erosion of self built around her work.
• She describes the relentless cycle of applications, silence, and rejection, and the toxic fusion of professional and personal worth.
• Letting go initially felt like failing loved ones and mentors, but became a path to disentangling her self-worth from institutional validation.

"Because academia had become so entwined with my identity, it felt like I was being told in so many words, you don't belong here…There’s a particular kind of grief that comes with watching such a dream dissolve, not all at once, but slowly and over time."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [16:51, 17:10]

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Support Systems and Gaps

[21:21–25:10]

• Emotional impacts included anxiety, exhaustion, isolation, and the inability to plan for the future.
• Institutional support was lacking: career services prioritized tenure-track paths, mental health resources were insufficient, and mentoring often overlooked alternative careers.
• Eventually, she reframed her skills, realizing conference presentations, teaching, and research had valuable equivalents in non-academic environments (stakeholder engagement, cross-functional collaboration, project management).

"What I needed at the time was mentorship that acknowledged the emotional cost of this path and guidance that included alternative careers as valid and not so much per se consolation."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [23:20]

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Reimagining Academic Life & Culture

[26:07–28:46]

• Chikosman advocates for cultural transformation rather than mere policy tweaks:
  • Redesign inclusion to prioritize belonging, not just productivity.
  • Normalize care—collective and self—as integral to scholarly work.
  • Value depth and mentorship as much as speed and volume.
  • Honor leaving academia as a continuum of scholarly life.
• Success becomes about nurturing curiosity, impact, and relationships, not institutional prestige.

"Imagine a system where publishing one thoughtful piece is valued as much as producing rushed ones. Where mentoring a student through a difficult year is seen as scholarly impact..."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [27:15]

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Intellectual Fulfillment Beyond Academia

[30:22–33:37]

• Despite her fears on leaving academia, editorial work in neuroscience at Springer Nature has offered sustained intellectual engagement, global collaboration, and the opportunity to apply skills in nuanced ways.
• Humanities training—structuring arguments, reading context, valuing nuance—proved directly relevant and invaluable.
• Fulfillment, she concludes, is rooted in curiosity, purpose, and using skills meaningfully, not institutional titles.

"Intellectual fulfillment…isn't really tied to a title or an institution. It's tied to curiosity, purpose, and the ability to use your skills in ways that feel meaningful."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [32:52]

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Redefining Success

[35:06–37:17]

• Academic success is often a checklist; she emphasizes the danger of internalizing those narrow, arbitrary standards.
• Now, success means balance, alignment with personal values, and well-being: enabling others’ work, fostering inclusion, and making space for small joys and growth.
• Purpose and fulfillment have replaced prestige as her guiding benchmarks.

"My definition of success has changed. And no longer. It's no longer about prestige, but rather about purpose. It's creating a life that honors my intellectual passions while also making a space for rest, joy and growth."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [37:15]

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Advice to Her Younger Self

[38:06–40:36]

• Chikosman would advise her younger self to grant self-compassion, recognize inherent worth, and not equate worth with achievement.
• She would encourage protecting joy, nurturing life beyond academia, and seeking honest mentors.
• Leaving or changing directions is not failure; one's skills and perspectives matter even more outside the academic mold.

"I would tell that younger Fidan, you don't have to earn your worth here, because you already have it...It's okay to change one's mind, that leaving is not a failure, and that choosing oneself is not selfish."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [38:06–40:36]

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Recommendations for Institutional Change

[41:25–44:44]

• Institutions should:
  • Offer more flexible, inclusive, and accessible funding—especially for independent and international scholars.
  • Build more intentional, interdisciplinary mentorship networks.
  • Reduce inequities in conference participation via grants and virtual options.
  • Broaden definitions of scholarly value to include teaching, engagement, and creativity.
• She remains optimistic about higher education’s potential for positive change through listening, adaptation, and genuine support.

"Scholars working across disciplines or outside dominant cultural frameworks often need mentorship that understands the nuances of their work. So creating mentorship networks that are interdisciplinary, international and inclusive could be very effective."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [42:59]

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Advice for Early Career Scholars

[45:16–48:18]

• You are not alone in your frustration or grief; the system’s silence and precarity are structural flaws, not personal failings.
• Name and allow yourself to feel the pain—it’s valid and a step toward transformation.
• Reframe your skills as valuable everywhere; seek out community for support, validation, and the sharing of experience.

"Don’t wait for academia to validate your work, start validating it yourself. Make a list of the skills you’ve developed. Talk to people outside academia...We’d be surprised by how much we already know and how much we have to offer."
— Dr. Fidan Chikosman [46:45–47:40]

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Memorable Quotes & Moments

• "I remember the moment I realized that the system of higher education wasn't just broken, it was working exactly as it was designed. It was built to be extractive, to reward a very narrow kind of success, and to leave behind those that really didn't fit into a disciplinary mold." [08:52]
• "There’s a particular kind of grief that comes with watching such a dream dissolve, not all at once, but slowly and over time." [17:10]
• "Normalize care—not just self care, but collective care...burnout isn't a personal failure, but rather a systemic signal." [27:00]
• "Intellectual fulfillment…isn't really tied to a title or an institution. It's tied to curiosity, purpose, and the ability to use your skills in ways that feel meaningful." [32:52]
• "Leaving is not a failure, and choosing oneself is not selfish...There’s a world beyond the university where skills, voice and perspectives still matter—and maybe even more." [40:25]
• "Don't wait for academia to validate your work, start validating it yourself…There are networks, newsletters, and formal groups where people are having these same conversations. So navigating it alone does not have to happen." [47:37–48:12]

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Timestamps for Notable Segments

• 01:28 – Dr. Chikosman's academic story, research, and turning point
• 07:35 – The meaning and origins of "end of an academic dream"
• 11:24 – The myth of academic precarity and its unraveling
• 15:27 – Emotional toll and identity loss during and after PhD
• 21:21 – Support systems, mentorship gaps, and skill translation
• 26:07 – Reimagining academic life and values for the future
• 30:22 – Intellectual fulfillment and career outside academia
• 35:06 – Redefining success beyond academic milestones
• 38:06 – Advice to her younger self, centering compassion
• 41:25 – Recommendations for institutional change, inclusion, and support
• 45:16 – Direct advice for early career scholars

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Final Takeaway

Dr. Chikosman's story is one of deep reflection, hard-won transformation, and hopeful imagination. She demonstrates that life after academia can be rich with meaning, that skillsets are portable and valuable, and that systemic change requires not just policy, but cultural empathy and collective redefinition of success. As she encourages: honor your grief, claim your agency, and remember your voice matters—even, or especially, outside the old dream.

Transcript

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[Dr. Christina Gessler]

Welcome to the New Books Network. Hello everyone and welcome to Academic Life. This is a podcast for your academic journey and beyond. I'm the producer and your host, Dr. Christina Gessler, and today I am so pleased to be joined by Dr. Fidan Chikosman, who is here to talk to us about her reflections on leaving academe and the end of an academic dream. Welcome to the show, Dr. Sechoffsman.

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

Thank you so much for having me.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

Christina, I am so glad that you're here and that we get to talk about this. Before we do that, will you please tell us a bit about yourself?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

Sure.

So my academic journey is quite lengthy at the moment I'm an acquisitions editor

for Neuroscience Topics with Springer Nature.

I really help experts kind of within the field communicate the research to broader audiences. It's a role that really allows me to stay close to inquiry and storytelling, even though I've stepped away from the academic path that I had once envisioned for myself. So my undergraduate studies, I come from the human humanities backgrounds where I graduated from UCLA in Comparative Literature and French and after years abroad kind of traveling and learning, learning of different stories in different cities like Sarajevo, Istanbul, Tel Aviv, Marrakesh. Those were places that I really like absorbed histories and kind of the quiet ways people carry memories and those travels really became kind of an informal education, and that they kind, they profoundly shaped my intellectual and emotional worldview. And so years later I had decided

that I wanted to earn a PhD

in the very education that I was experiencing during my travels. So I moved again to Edinburgh where I would pursue a PhD. So for me, I focused on the city of Istanbul and kind of how existing in urban spaces as a female in opposition to a male is very different. And I was fascinated by women's, how they navigated space and how their bodies and voices moved and were inscribed into the city. And so as a PhD candidate, I was really given the opportunity to teach within the French department. And however, I think one of the most meaningful chapters of my Life as a PhD was as an independent researcher as Appwazij University in Istanbul. So I was awarded a grant to conduct portions of my work. And that really allowed me the opportunity to carve a space for myself. And I spent months immersed in the city that I had studied for years, walking in neighborhood neighborhoods, and I was

able to speak to scholars, attend lectures

and access archives that were otherwise, you know, unavailable to me. It was a self directed endeavor and it taught me a lot about resilience and autonomy. But it also reveals the fragility of

academic infrastructure, such as how political instability

and institutional constraints could shape and sometimes

stifle the pursuit of knowledge that I was so deeply attached to at that time. But still that gave my research a new kind of intimacy and urgency that was not just theoretical, but something that

I was living in.

For that reason, I do owe much

of my doctoral success to, to doctoral

success to the city of Istanbul itself. So throughout my PhD journey, I was constantly, you know, on the move for the next idea, traveling to present research at conferences in different cities.

And each, each trip was a search

for recognition, visibility and connection. I was trying to carve the space for my work. And these conferences were both exhilarating and also exhausting because they gave me moments of affirmation, but also kind of drew attention to the precarity of the path I on. So as the end of my PhD journey began, began to seem like a

ways down the road and more of a reality.

All of those experiences I kind of just narrated, led me, led kind of to a moment of reckoning as I started to apply to academic positions. So the silence that became so common after job applications and kind of the shrinking opportunities that came along with it

began to weigh heavily on my confidence.

And as much as I loved the research and felt a deep connection with the stories that I was trying to Communicate with my peers. The academic path itself became increasingly fragile. It was at this time that I really started to question myself.

What am I chasing, at what cost, and when it, if ever, it will come.

So that questioning eventually led me to write the End of an Academic Dream. And it was my way of kind of making sense of the grief and clarity that comes with letting go of a dream that I had had since childhood.

So my journey has really been one of movement, geographies, disciplines, identities.

And while I have stepped away from

academia, I haven't really stepped away from,

you know, inquiry and storytelling. That, that kind of knowledge and practices we learn as PhD candidates. And I still believe in the power

of words to really make sense of, of the world.

And I kind of carry that, that belief with me in every space I enter.

There's a long answer to your question,

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

but, well, it really sets up your, your background and what inspired you to write your piece. You're referring to your, your recent article that was published in Inside Higher Ed called the End of an Academic Dream. And in that piece you really take us through a lot of reflections about what that actually means, the end of an academic dream. And in what you're sharing, it sounds like a change to an academic dream. So what does that phrase mean to you now? End of an academic Dream.

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

So when I chose that title, the End of an Academic Dream, I was really naming a difficult chapter of my life and the kind of disappointments that

come alongside having to make choices out of necessity or rather than desire. Because for most of my adult life, academia was this world that I had built my sense of self around. I imagined a future where I'd be immersed in ideas, mentoring students, publishing work that I believed mattered, and contributing to a global intellectual community. It felt like a place where I could bring all the parts of myself, my languages, my cultural experiences, my research interests and, and really have them accepted and valued. But slowly, over time, that dream started to fray. It wasn't really one dramatic moment. It was rather a series of quiet disappointments. For example, the unanswered job applications, the instability of adjunct work, the feeling of being invisible in spaces that were supposed to be collaborative. And that toll it took on my mental health was real. And like I kept thinking to myself, if I just push a little harder, if I publish in one more peer reviewed journal, teach one more course, present at one more conference, maybe I'd finally be seen and accepted as a credible expert within my field of choice. I remember the emotional toll of trying to maintain a facade of progress while feeling increasingly isolated and disillusioned. And I remember the moment I realized that the system of higher education wasn't just broken, it was working direct, exactly as it was designed. It was built to be extractive, to reward a very narrow kind of success, and to leave behind those that really didn't fit into a disciplinary mold. And so the title of my article really came from that moment of realization. And it was frustrating, frustrating to write such a title because it meant admitting that the dream I had relied on for so long was no longer sustainable. But it was also liberating in a way, because once I let go of

that possible version of myself, I started to see other possibilities.

I transitioned into editorial work and have been writing my stories and thoughts about higher education for platforms such as Inside Higher Ed, where I'm still able to engage deeply with research and ideas, yet from a space that feels more healthy and balanced. And I think these small changes made me realize that my worth wasn't in fact, tied to a tenure track job or university affiliation. So now when I think about the end of an academic dream per se,

I don't really hear failure, but more transformation.

I kind of hear like a sense of courage to walk away and the hope that comes with building something new. It's not really the dream that I started with, but it's one that I've kind of chosen with open eyes.

And that, in a way, does feel empowering to me.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

And in the article, you say that you look back and you realize how seductive and insidious this myth is. And the myth that you're referring to in that paragraph is this idea of precarity having its own purpose, that it has meaning, that we can find purpose in poverty, because precarity doesn't really lead to academic stability. And in order to sort of for us to absorb these things as our identity, then we have to sort of ignored nor the cost of what we're sacrificing. And you've pointed to a number of things as you've been talking about moments of reflection or sort of aha's as you're adding together sort of these costs. But was there a particular turning point for you when you saw that you were beginning to question your future in academia?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

There was never one particular moment, because this is such a powerful question and

kind of one that I've spent a

lot of time, a lot of time reflecting on.

And so I refer to the myth

of the noble wandering academic because I think of. I think the unraveling of that myth began long before I consciously realized it,

which is why it's such a loaded question. And I believe it started in my earliest encounters with literature, before I Even

started my PhD, especially with women writers,

because as a young reader, I was

drawn to voices that.

That carried this kind of quiet defiance, such as authors who wrote from the

margins and who questioned the structures around them and who made space for complexity. Virginia Woolf, Simone de Beauvoir, Alif Shafak. They exposed the scaffolding of silence that surrounded women's lives. And their work made me feel seen, even when I didn't have the language

yet to articulate why.

And that very early exposure made me aware of the way gender shapes experiences. And when I began my graduate studies, I found myself returning to those questions that I had entertained, that had entertained me as a child, but through a different lens. I was drawn to novelists within a Turkish context, such as Elie Shafak and Orhan Pamuk, and how their work engaged with urban spaces as a character with a certain amount of agency. And I became fascinated by how female characters navigated these spaces as ones of possibility and constraint. And constraint. Excuse me. And. But during my PhD studies, as I delved deeper into this subject matter, I began to notice something very unsettling, because the more I tried to bring those questions into academic spaces, through conferences, publications, job applications, the more I felt a certain kind of resistance. And my research had been labeled too

niche, too regional, too interdisciplinary. And I traveled constantly to present my work, hoping to find that silver lining in intellectual communities that would embrace it. And while there were moments of connection

that were real and affirming, that they were also fleeting, because the structural support wasn't always there. So all of this led me to

kind of question that myth of a

noble and wandering academic, the idea that if you just keep moving, keep striving, keep sacrificing, you'll eventually be, quote, unquote, rewarded.

And so I realized that the myth

was built on a foundation that didn't

account for the emotional toll, the financial

uncertainty, and the invisibility that so many of us face.

So writing kind of the end of

an academic dream and the idea to debunk the myth of a noble and wandering academic was my way of naming that disillusionment. I wanted to tell my truth about my own journey to abroad and the

broader structures that shaped it.

And in doing so, I had hoped to make space for others who were

navigating similar questions and were wondering whether that dream was still worth chasing.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

You talk in the article about how the academic job market is not just a test of credentials, is a test of endurance, of self worth, of how much rejection one can absorb before breaking. You describe laying awake at night worried about the math of survival, and you talk about feeling a very strange duality, that there's this thrill of your intellectual accomplishment and a constant gnawing dread of what comes next. You've been talking about how all of this feels really unsettling. And I'm wondering, as you're describing, this emotional toll of being an academic and being a student and then navigating the job market, what did that start to do on the impact of your sense of self?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

It's hard to overstate that emotional toll because it wasn't just a professional disappointment. It was. It was, in a way, existential, because

it was a slow erosion of a

self that I had spent so many years building.

When I entered the academic job market towards the end of and after my PhD, I was still carrying the belief that merit alone could be enough to get me where I wanted and planned to go up, up to that point,

that if I worked hard, published, presented, taught, traveled, the list goes on and on. If I did all the things that many of us are told to do as PhD, PhDs, then I would be recognized. I had done everything right. But applications just suddenly went into, as

I say in my article, into this unknown sea. And I began to even forget which positions I had applied for and which I didn't. Months would pass with no response, and when rejections did come, they were generic, automated, impersonal. And that silence began to chip away at my confidence. I started to question not just my work, but my worth.

And so the two. These two distinctions suddenly were merged together.

And I wondered if my research was

perhaps too specific, too interdisciplinary, or too foreign.

I wondered if I was too much

or if I wasn't enough.

And because academia had become so entwined

with my identity, it felt like I

was being told in so many words, you don't belong here.

And I started to feel like I was living in this sort of liminal space of no longer a student, no longer a student, not yet a professor,

and increasingly unsure if I ever would be.

So I think there's a particular kind

of grief that comes with watching such a dream dissolve, not all at once, but slowly and over time. It's the kind of the grief of waking up every day and wondering if the thing you've devoted your life to, it's still viable. It's a frustration of watching peers move forward while you remain still stuck in a cycle of uncertainty.

It's the disappointment of realizing that the system you believed in for so long doesn't believe in you.

And yet I did try to keep going. I kept applying, kept hoping.

Because letting go at the time felt like a failure.

It felt like a betrayal to my younger self, to my mentors, to my

parents who had taught me the how sacred education was. But eventually I had to confront this truth that the system is the higher education system is built in a way to reproduce itself. And I I felt like I was

out of its mold.

That realization was upsetting, but also allowed me to begin the process of disentangling my self worth from institutional validation. It allowed me to ask deeper questions, such as what do I value?

What kind of work nourishes me? And what kind of life do I want to build myself? And slowly I began to find answers. Not all at once, and not without frustration, of course, but with a sense of honesty. And with the understanding that walking away from academia was me reclaiming my voice and my agency in the best way that I could.

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[Dr. Christina Gessler]

You tell us in your article that the myths that we get kind of I don't want to say indoctrinated into, but they seem to be kind of in the air. We tend to all breathe in certain myths, and one is that uncertainty, and the kind of uncertainty that you're describing is evidence of our devotion. You talk in the piece about how every time you got a rejection that it chipped away at the confidence that you had been constructing during your time working on your PhD. It affects identity. You know, if I'm not going to have the career choices that I thought I would, then who am I now? And you talk about the pressure becoming really too much to bear. A lot of this is handled silently. You've, you've alluded to researching women's silences and being really fluent in them. And yet when it happens to us, we still sort of follow the playbook. We don't talk as much to our friends and family. We don't know how to open up about the particular job market that we face as academics because it's very different than other types of job markets. And it does start to take effect on people's mental health. What support systems did you encounter and what gaps in those support systems did you encounter?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

I think that in terms of how this feeling of academic precarity affected my mental health at the time, while I was experiencing it, I didn't have the

language to really name what it was.

I just knew I felt constantly anxious, exhausted, alienated from friends and family, and stuck in this cycle of proving myself without really any guarantee of what would happen next, like, for instance, stability.

I was adjuncting, traveling to make my

research more visible, canceling plans for social events because I felt like it was a betrayal to myself to do anything

other than what would make my academic

career dreams more tangible.

I was applying to jobs that never

responded and trying to really maintain a sense of purpose while feeling increasingly disconnected from others. And I think the hardest part of that emotional toll was the uncertainty because I couldn't plan for the future financially, professionally or personally, and that I can form long term friendships with people out of fear that they wouldn't last and

I would have to start over in

a new city within a few months. I didn't know if I'd have health insurance the next semester or if I'd be able to stay in the same city. So that kind of instability creates a baseline for stress that's really hard to shake. And because academia is often rewards endurance and self sacrifice, I felt like if I kept going, I felt like I

had to keep going even when I

was burning out, the support systems were there but limited. I had a few, you know, a few friends, students and adjuncts were going through similar things and we kind of leaned on each other. But institutionally, I feel like I would have appreciated more structure because career services were often geared toward tenure track success and mental health resources were either underfunded

or not really designed for the unique

pressures that come with academic precarity.

What I needed at the time was mentorship that acknowledged the emotional cost of

this path and guidance that included alternative careers as valid and not so much per se consolation.

So when I finally decided to leave

academia, I had to reframe how I saw myself and my skills. At first I worried that, like, you know, what I did like presentations, teaching, research, travel wouldn't translate to, say, corporate roles.

But with time and many trial and error processes, I might add, I found that these experiences gave me a very powerful and versatile toolkit. For example, conference presentations really teach you

how to communicate complex ideas and persuade an audience. And that can translate into stakeholder engagement such as working with researchers or internal teams.

Teaching teacher teaching teaches us how to

break down difficult concepts and that that

can really be be very valuable in

meetings and facilitating cross functional collaboration. Research taught me how to synthesize information and identify patterns that's directly applicable to

evaluating manuscripts or spotting trends in publishing,

or making strategic editorial decisions. Even peer review and academic writing translates

into editorial judgment and quality assurance.

So while my academic uncertainty was incredibly

difficult and at times very upsetting, it also really forced me to grow in

ways I didn't expect.

It taught me resilience, adaptability, and the importance of redefining success on my own terms.

And it showed me that my skills

and everything I had developed in academia were in fact transferable and it was

up to me to translate them appropriately.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

You talk in the piece that you wrote about how the humanities teach us to imagine alternatives. And when you're going on the job market, many applications are never responded to at all. We have to sort of guess what silence means. We have to pivot and figure out what to do next. And you also talk about how academia can better support early career scholars, particularly those who are marginalized. As someone who's trained in reimagining things, how did that help you in reimagining not just how you were going to cope with silences and job applications that were never responded to, but as you were thinking through, you know, there's a better way to do this, right?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

I think like in terms of how we can reimagine academic life, I think we need to it would be helpful to start by questioning the culture and not simply the structure, because it's not only about policies or funding models. It's about how people are made to feel, who gets to belong, who gets to rest, who gets to be seen. And inclusivity is about redesigning the conditions under which people can thrive. And that means moving away from gatekeeping and toward mentorship that's relational and not simply transactional. I feel like it means creating spaces where curiosity is not commodified and where students and scholars can be encouraged to bring their full selves and not simply their productivity. And so to make academia, you know, more humane and more empathetic, I feel like care needs to be more normalized and not just self care, but collective care. And that could look like rethinking timelines, making space for unexpected life events and transitions, and valuing emotional labor as part of scholarly work. It means really recognizing that burnout isn't a personal failure, but rather a systemic signal. And it means building cultures where asking for help is seen as a strength and sustainability is about longevity. It's not just about careers, but rather ideas and relationships and well being and creating academic environments that don't rely so much on overwork and exhaustion. And that could mean reimagining workload expectations, offering flexible career paths and investing in long term support. And I really think we need to rethink what success means. Moving away from metrics that reward speed, volume and prestige, and toward values that honor depth and collaboration and integrity. Imagine a system where publishing one thoughtful piece is valued as much as producing bike rushed ones. Where mentoring a student through a difficult year is seen as scholarly impact and. And where leaving academia is a valid continuation of academic life. And I think also a life that kind of reimagining academic life means to ask oneself what kind of world are

we building through our institutions?

And who gets to feel safe, seen and supported in that role in that world. I feel like if we start there with empathy, imagination and a willingness to listen, we can begin to build something that makes more space that's just and that creates a just and generous future.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

And these things that you're outlining, they not only better support early career scholars, but they better support PhD graduates, and it better support students during the whole process of being in school and learning. And the long term would effect would also be supporting our identity going forward as people who are curious, who are problem solvers, who are thoughtful, and seeing the university as a place that we would willingly return to for a credential or Possibly for a career pivot, we need more classes. You talk in the article about how the job market is indifferent and what you're describing is that this is part of the entire system and ways that if we change the culture towards a collective community care, then then the job market itself and the way it's handled as far as the academic world couldn't be indifferent because it would be completely anathema to the, to the culture change that you're talking about. You've shared early on that that you work as a neuroscience editor at Springer Nature, and it's this job that you have and it's bringing you a lot of intellectual fulfillment outside the academy. You've also referenced in our conversation about that that lack of information that was provided to you that finding a job outside academia would fulfill so much of the academic person that you've become. How did you find the intellectual fulfillment in your job at Nature, at Springer Nature? And did it surprise you that you found so much?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

I think transitioning into my role as

an editor for neuroscience topics has completely

reshaped how I think about intellectual fulfillment.

Surprisingly so. When I first left academia, as I had mentioned earlier, I was a little afraid that I'd lose the depth and the rigor that had defined my academic life. I worried that outside the university, I wouldn't have the same opportunities to engage with complex ideas or contribute meaningfully to knowledge production. But what I learned is that academic

success doesn't disappear when you leave academia. It rather transforms, and in many ways

it becomes larger and more and more expensive. In my current role, for instance, I work with researchers from around the world, and I help them to refine and communicate their research findings in topics and subtopics related to neuroscience. And I'm constantly engaging with emerging sciences, asking questions and thinking critically about how ideas are structured and shared. It's a different kind of intellectual work, but it's no less fulfilling.

What surprised me most, though, is how

many of my academic skills could transfer effectively into this space. And I haven't had to regret using years of my PhD life to have built them. Developing syllabi and lesson plans, for example, during my PhD, taught me how to structure information for clarity and progression. And that's something that I now use when I guide authors through revisions and shaping editorial workflows to make sure content flows logically and is accessible. And even the time I spent organizing academics events and panels, which I felt like was more like logistical work, gave me project management skills that are essential to the publishing world.

I learned how to coordinate timelines and manage competing priorities.

And that's now part of my daily life as I'm juggling manuscripts, collaborating with production teams, and ensuring that guidelines are met. But I think most importantly, my training within the humanities taught me how to kind of read between the lines, per se. It sounds cliche, but it's true. Kind of how to recognize nuance and context and kind of the human dimension of research. That's something I bring into every editorial decision because I'm not just looking at data, but rather how that data is

framed and who it's and how it

fits into a broader conversation. So what this transition kind of taught me is that intellectual fulfillment, as you asked, isn't really tied to a title or an institution. It's tied to curiosity, purpose, and the ability to use your skills in ways that feel meaningful. I still think deeply, I still ask hard questions. I still care about language, structure, impact. But now I do it in a space that does feel more collaborative, more balanced and more sustainable. So leaving academia didn't really mean that I was leaving behind my ideas and everything that I had learned, but rather rediscovering it in a new form. And that I feel like that's been very helpful in my journey.

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[Dr. Christina Gessler]

You tell us that when you realized the academic path was closed, you found a strange kind of freedom you didn't expect to feel. And it was in that space that you were asking yourself. And you tell us it's been the first time in years that you had asked that questions like what do I want? What do I value? What kind of life do I want to build? You also tell us in the piece that you need to allow yourself a time of grieving, that it's normal if you thought things would turn out one way and they aren't going to. It's normal to feel your feelings and that you do need to acknowledge that and grieve. But you also talk about the permission to want stability, community and joy. All of these seem fundamental in redefining success for ourselves. When you when you think about what success looks like to you now, and how that definition has changed since your time in academia. How are you sitting with success these days?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

I think success is really like for instance, I think success is really different now for me, because success used to be very narrowly defined in academia. It was all about milestones, getting published in the right journals, landing a tenure track position, presenting at prestigious conferences, securing fellowships. It's all a checklist. And I internalized that. I thought that if I just kept hitting those marks, I'd eventually arrive at that place of stability and recognition. But the reality is very different. I did hit many of those marks. Published, taught, presented, et cetera. And yet I still found myself in that cycle of precarity and suffered this sense of imposter syndrome, which is such

a popular term in IRP in the PhD community.

We all go through it. The job market felt indifferent and the emotional toll of constantly striving without security made me question whether that version of success was sustainable or even healthy. Now success does look different. It's no longer about external validation or institutional affiliation. It's rather finding this balance and alignment between my values, my work, and my well being. It's waking up and feeling grounded, knowing that I'm contributing something meaningful without sacrificing my mental health in my current role. Success means helping researchers communicate their work clearly and ethically. It means creating this environment of collaboration and advocating for inclusive language and shaping scientific discourse in ways that are thoughtful and accessible. It's quieter than academic success, but it's still satisfying. And I've also come to see success in the small things, such as having time to just read on my, just read or writing essays that blends my personal intellectual reflections or, or you know, just taking a walk outside. So yeah, my definition of success has changed. And no longer. It's no longer about prestige, but rather about purpose. It's creating a life that honors my intellectual passions while also making a space

for rest, joy and growth.

And that shift has become one of the most important lessons that I've learned since leaving academia.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

Often in these episodes, I'll ask someone when they were heading out to college, to where they are now, they, they had a path in mind and how closely does their life align with that path. But our entire conversation has been about how closely your life has aligned with that path and, and, and really getting to the point where you find joy in the fact that your, your life took a different turn. And yet it didn't make all that came before meaningless. It, it ordered the meaning in ways that were more healthy. And productive for you. So my question instead is, if you could go back and see younger you at the start of your PhD, what would you have said to her?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

I think about that all the time. I think if I could go back and speak to myself at the very beginning of my PhD, maybe even before, maybe when I started my undergrad studies, I don't think I would start with advice. I think I would start with just more compassion for myself. I would tell that younger Firan, you don't have to earn your worth here because you already have it. Because at the start, I was so eager to prove myself. I was ambitious, I was excited. I wanted to be brilliant, I wanted to be productive, I wanted to be visible. I wanted people to go to the bookstore, the libraries, and. And see my name on a book as well, the same way that I've admired so many other authors. And I thought that if I worked hard enough and stayed curious enough, gave enough of myself, I felt like maybe I would be. I could be recognized. I didn't yet understand how much of academia does run on the sense of ambiguity, how unclear the path can be and how uneven the rewards, and how much silence one can encounter even when they're doing everything right. So I would tell that younger me to really protect her joy, to hold on to the parts of the work that feel alive, such as those moments of discovery, of connection, of deep thinking, and to not let them be overshadowed, excuse me, overshadowed by metrics or comparison. And I would remind her that intellectual life is not really a race and that rest is not a weakness. And I think I would also tell her to build a life outside the PhD early on, not as really a backup plan, but as a way to stay whole, to nurture friendships, creative projects, hobbies, and interests that aren't tied to academic validation. Because when things get hard, and they will, those parts of one's life are what ground them. And I think I would la. I think I would also ask. Have myself ask more questions and to be curious about how academia works and how it works and what it demands to seek out mentors who are honest and not just accomplished. And to know that it's okay to change one's mind, that leaving is not a failure, and that choosing oneself is not selfish. And most of all, I think I tell that younger me that she's not alone and that the doubts, the exhaustion, the quiet grief, so many others feel it too. And that there's a world beyond the university where skills, voice and perspectives, perspectives still matter. And maybe even more.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

You talk in the piece about the relief that you felt when you figured out a path that was working better for you, and you describe it as no longer having to pretzel yourself to fit a system that had no place for you. That's an awful feeling to have to make ourselves smaller or scrunched into a space in such an uncomfortable way. One of the things that it seems is your goal in writing this piece is to invite us to think in ways different than that, and by extension, to reimagine academic life in whatever that means to us, to be more inclusive, more humane, and ultimately more sustainable. What are some of your thoughts about how we would do that?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

I think higher education right now, I think, is at such a pivotal moment. It's at one where it has the opportunity to reimagine how it supports the next generation of scholars. For early career researchers, especially those from, as we mentioned earlier, marginalized or international backgrounds, the journey into academia often involves navigating structural challenges. And I think there are several areas where where meaningful change could make a real difference.

I'd love to see more flexible and inclusive funding models.

For instance, during my time as an independent researcher abroad, I was conducting field work that was essential to my dissertation, but because I wasn't formally affiliated with the program at the time, I didn't qualify for many traditional funding streams. So I think academia could really benefit from recognizing and supporting self directed research and especially when it's rooted in cultural specificity or transnational inquiry. I also think mentorship needs to be more intentional and accessible. I've been fortunate to have mentors who believed in my work, but I also know how difficult it can be to find guidance when one's research doesn't fit neatly into established categories and leads to that pretzeling sensation. So scholars working across disciplines or outside dominant cultural frameworks frameworks often need mentorship that understands the nuances of their work. So creating mentorship networks that are interdisciplinary,

international and inclusive could be very effective. And I feel like institutions could do more to support the emotional and logistical

realities of conference participation. Because we all know, we know that conference participation is a a large part of the PhD journey. And I traveled to several cities to present my research, often funding those trips myself. And they were illuminating. But they also highlighted how uneven access to visibility can be. So offering more travel grants, virtual presentation options, and more equitable platforms for emerging scholarship I think would really help to make sure that important voices aren't left out of the conversation. And I think academia needs to broaden its definition of value for Instance, I taught French 1B as an adjunct while I was in Edinburgh, and I saw how students responded to lessons and how they connected with language, to lived experiences, how they live when they discussed literature or the politics of translation. And that kind of engagement is scholarship

too, in my opinion.

So supporting and valuing the creativity and care that goes into it is something I would really like to see taken into consideration. Because higher education can evolve into a space that welcomes diverse scholars, and that means listening, adapting, and building structures that reflect the complexity of the world we study. And while I've stepped out of academia, I still do have hope of what it can become, because I've seen the brilliance and ambitions of early career scholars, and I know what's, what's possible when they're truly supported.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

You talk in the book, in the article about the importance of building a life that, that honors your scholarship and your humanity, and that it really needs to be rooted, not rootless, and that we need to make space for intellectual passion, not just intellectual work, and to honor our need for personal fulfillment. As you think about early career scholars, what advice would you give to them?

[Dr. Fidan Chikosman]

Of course, first, if I was speaking directly to early career scholars, I would first really want them to know that if they're feeling overwhelmed by rejection or instability, that they're not alone and they're not failing, even if it feels like they are, and even if the silence is loud and the uncertainty is overwhelming. There are so many of us who have stood at that crossroads, who have

asked ourselves, what now?

Who am I if I'm not this? And academia often makes it feel like you're the problem, when in reality the system is deeply flawed. Which is why I would love to see such, such changes, because it's built on the sense of scarcity, competition, and silence. So the emotional toll that, that one can feel, it's very valid and it's shared by so many others, and even

if they're not saying it out loud.

So my advice would really be to start by giving yourself permission to feel what you're feeling, the frustration, the exhaustion, that's all real. 1. These early career scholars, they invest so much in their work, identity, future, and when the investment doesn't yield the stability or recognition that's hoped for, it can hurt.

And so let yourself name that pain.

And I think that's the first step towards transformation. The second piece of advice is to begin by reframing skills, because academia trains

us in ways that are incredibly valuable,

but not often legible outside the university unless you translate them yourself. If you've presented at conference, that's stakeholder engagement, as I mentioned earlier, and that's a huge asset in publishing, communications and policy. Teaching is facilitation skills and emotional intelligence, and those are essential in leadership and training, while research skills translate to synthesizing information, and that's gold in strategy and editorial work, UX research and data analysis. So my advice would don't wait for academia to validate your work, start validating it yourself. Make a list of the skills you've developed. Talk to people outside academia, ask them how they use similar skills in their work, and I feel like we'd be

surprised by how much we all we

would be surprised by how much we already know and how much we have to offer. And lastly, as I had mentioned in

my article, build community. Find people who understand what you're going

through, whether that's early career scholars, professionals in other fields, or just friends who

can hold space for your experience.

Because the isolation in my experience is one of the hardest parts. But it doesn't have to be permanent.

There are networks, newsletters, and formal groups where people are having these same conversations.

So navigating it alone does not have to happen.

And because rejection, instability can be painful,

but they're not the end of a story, but rather part of a transition. And on the other side of that transition, there is room for growth in a life that respects your values and not just your resume.

[Dr. Christina Gessler]

Thank you so much for being here today, Dr. Shikosman, and sharing your thoughts about the end of an academic dream. Reflections on Leaving Academe and Finding Meaning Outside it. You've been listening to the academic life. I'm Dr. Christina Gessler, inviting you to please join us again.