This actually happened…
I had a massive culture shock when I first moved to New York City (NYC) to pursue my PhD at New York University (NYU).
I was extremely mathematically underprepared and found myself in one of the most prestigious schools in the country among the smartest students in the world. I wanted to live in New York City, so I applied to NYU. I had no idea at the time what being at the Courant Institute of Mathematical Sciences really meant.
I had left a war and two engagements to fiancés I did not know in Lebanon, and I had a heavy religious baggage to shed, alongside an incredibly demanding PhD program.
I got married during my third year of graduate school, defended my thesis at my fifth year, while pregnant.
I moved with my then husband to Michigan, where both of us were offered postdoc positions at The University of Michigan - Ann Arbor.
I had my daughter in Michigan, got divorced, my ex-husband went to live in Mexico, and I became a single mother for a very young child. I did not have family in Michigan, a permanent residency in the States, or a permanent job.
I applied for very few tenure track positions at liberal arts schools, and I got a tenure track position at James Madison University (JMU). I moved to Virginia with my daughter when she was three.
Right when I moved to Virginia a person very close to me died. Grieving their death while starting a new job in a new state with a small child was the most difficult thing I had gone through in my entire life.
I went up early for tenure, and I got tenured, seven years after earning my PhD, four years after getting hired at JMU. I am now a full professor, a published author, working on the most stimulating projects in AI, data (all engineering, computation, applied math, business acumen, and building people relations, in my mind).
So how did it happen?
I never listened to all the “no’s” I was told. No one knew my circumstances and what I was battling while being at my job. I was confident of what I was capable of, only when I got time to focus on it. I was very O.K. with not having time to focus on my job, I did not feel guilty. I had this deep confidence that I was playing the hand I was dealt in the best possible way. I did not try to compete or compare myself to other people at the same level of my career.
I was put down more times than you can ever imagine, both personally and professionally: “You do not have the skills to pursue a job outside academia,” when I was contemplating leaving academia. “We want a professional to do this,” when I proposed doing a new project. And these were the nice put downs…
I enjoyed my life a lot and valued what I had and what I had accomplished. I was living my dream, my most powerful persisting dream, the one I had since I was a little girl: to be free. I was free. No one knew what I had gone through to get to be free. So as amazing and attractive being a professor in math is, it’s nothing compared to finally living and being free, day in and day out.
I kept on working on research projects even though I knew I did not have the time to finish or publish them. There is a seven year break from publishing on my resume. I could not afford to worry about that.
I never subscribed to the publish or perish bad incentive machine in academia. I had my own version- publish nothing or something worthwhile. I also had my own comfortable timeline because why would we perish if we still have a brain and valuable training? Isn’t that a waste? Just because something is a long held principle doesn't mean it is true, or that it applies to all situations and times. Perhaps it is just old school.
I got a job that valued my teaching, service, and was forgiving, at least for a bit, about my publishing break. When I was finally able to publish my projects, I went up for tenure and my application was successful.
I applied for many small grants. When some got rejected I wrote to the grant directors and asked for feedback. I implemented their recommendations in my next proposals. I applied again. By the time I went up for tenure I had been able to secure over $90,000 in funding for various research and service projects. By the time I became a full professor, I had secured ~$365,000, which is a lot for a math professor in an R3 to R2 school. Note I had applied for more than $1million, so ~$700,000 grant applications were rejected, and that did not faze me to apply to other grants.
I rarely was able to focus my brain on math in my pre-tenure years, not because I did not want to, but because raising my daughter and providing her with the best kind of security- emotional, financial, housing, and educational- were my priority. I homeschooled her too. I knew that I would get back to my job full force, however these formative years for her were never going to come back, and no career can substitute giving her a solid foundation in life. It’s also a fact that no child under the age of eight gives a single parent any free time, so it’s not like I had much of a choice.
I documented everything I did in my career, as related to: teaching, research, service, grants, and mentoring students. This documentation came very handy when writing my promotion applications.
I cared tremendously about my students’ success.
I ran an Airbnb, but that is a different story.
I felt grateful that I had a beautiful home, a beautiful daughter, amazing friends, a great sister who was incredible support via phone from Lebanon, a paycheck, and an adventurous life full of travels. I always felt that if being a math professor did not work out, it did not matter, since with what I have been able to overcome since I was so little has somehow prepared me to be anything I want to be- when I want it.
When you are born and raised in a war, when you experience various losses and hardships: forced engagements, culture shocks, graduate school, new beginnings over and over, changing countries, jobs and states, death, heartbreak, motherhood, single motherhood, and many other life events; getting tenure, or not getting tenure, promotion, or no promotion, acceptance, or rejection, becomes the least of your worries, because you deeply believe that your heart is strong, loving, and will survive.
I am now at a different place in my life and career, and I love it all. I am also more experienced and productive. I love my family, travels, books, projects, research, students, and service. My daughter is 13. My husband is awesome ❤️. I travel, take pictures, and write.
Photos: Birthday at Navy Yard in DC- Albi Restaurant- Michelin Star- Highly Recommend
