Imagine pursuing a PhD for four years only to realise in the fifth year that research and teaching are not the right paths for you. This is where I found myself – waking up one day, knowing I was on the wrong track.
When my undergraduate years were coming to an end, people often asked me what I wanted to do next. I didn’t have a concrete answer so I assumed it had to be academia. After all, good grades had come easily to me. Furthermore, I had once attended an international conference on my university’s campus and was captivated by the atmosphere, the discussions and the general intellectual ambience. Graduate school would be the obvious next step.
That’s how I entered my PhD programme, and the US. I was excited, and on the precipice of something brand new. However, something shifted. I quickly learned that excelling academically did not automatically translate into thriving in a PhD programme.
It was no longer about casually engaging with topics or discussing ideas with my friends, at events, or posting about them on social media the way I had done before. It was now about the professionalisation of research, requiring from me something I did not want to give. It required attributes such as the willingness to work through dense, verbose texts – not just for enlightenment but to serve a research agenda; the patience to wrangle with datasets; and, most importantly, the single-minded focus on one question till its mysteries gave way to answers. There were other things I would rather be doing.
Looking back, it should have been clearer. Throughout my undergraduate degree, academic work came easily; I did the bare minimum to get by, which should have suggested to me that I did not care about academia as much as I thought I did. If I had cared about it, I would have found more ways to engage myself.
And here lay a key lesson: breezing through something does not mean it’s your thing.
Reflecting further, there were other signs. As an undergraduate, I spent much of my free time involved in initiatives unrelated to academia. I participated in a network that supported young entrepreneurs. I also supported various capacity-building and mentorship programmes on and off campus. At the time, I viewed these as side pursuits, not central to my life’s purpose. I did not recognise that these were the activities that truly energised me.
And so I found myself struggling, but not in the way other PhD students struggle with rigorous work, or research roadblocks, but in the way that people who do not desire a career in research and teaching do. I felt out of place.
One morning, I had an epiphany. After spending a month designing a social media campaign for a brand, it hit me: I loved social media, and I loved sharing knowledge. Could I be more suited for a career at the intersection of these two things, rather than academia? Could I be more suited for roles such as a digital marketing specialist for educational platforms, community manager for educational institutions, e-learning designer or social media strategist for knowledge-based organisations?
Before beginning a PhD, ask yourself if it is right for you. It isn’t a question of intelligence or competency. It’s not about how skilled or capable you are or perceive yourself to be. It’s not that you can’t do it – you probably can. But is it for you? It’s about whether your personality and interests align with research as a profession.
The real takeaway of this essay is the importance of self-awareness. Do you know yourself well enough? What are your strengths and weaknesses? How do you work best? How would you like to make the most impact in the world? Answering these questions will prevent you from losing five years like I did, and quicken your journey to self-actualisation.
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