No one ever told me if I left academia, I’d be considered a failure. They didn’t have to. The hushed judgment, the long pause, the confused stare you got when you told someone, I don’t think I’m going on the job market. It was crystal clear: be a sociologist in academia or else.

While I may have sent signals that I was tenure-track bound, life happened and my initial professional priorities shifted. During doctoral training, I lost a parent suddenly and unexpectedly, supported my family through that initial transition, became a parent myself (twice), navigated early married life, and bought our first house. More importantly, I tried out public sociology in a nonprofit organization, and I liked it. I didn’t just like it; I loved it. I was good at being a public sociologist. 

The universe had a plan for me. I probably knew all along that I was not meant to be a professor in the traditional sense. When I started grad school, doctoral training had one acceptable finish line: tenure-track job. As I finished my training, I was more serious about leaving, and people warned me that the proverbial door would swing shut, closed forever. It was the wilderness out there.

Out there. The idea of going out there felt like falling through space. I knew it was the right path for me, so I tried not to worry or apologize. I just started on this path, like anyone starts out their career. One step at a time.

The door didn’t slam shut. Leaving academia has been the best personal and professional decision of my life. I’ve spent a decade as a public sociologist. I’ve been a policy advocate, a researcher, a public educator, a civic technology leader. I have learned about how non-profit organizations and the government work, how to earn funding and how to work in coalitions. I am still an educator but I work exclusively with adult learners. Each step on this path has been full of captivating, ambitious, curious people and so many problems to solve. 

It is still difficult to find encouragement or insight (or information quite frankly) about public sociology. The national association provides very little career development support. I used to offer to lead workshops or talks and they only took me up on it once (and several dozen people did come to hear my thoughts on public sociology but I was never invited back). Most advisors or mentors have no experience outside of the academy and don’t understand how someone might choose not a tenure-track job. There are some blogs and short essays but hardly any texts on the topic (my story is featured in one of them). I’ll talk to anyone who will listen because we need social scientists out here in the wilderness. We need social scientists in public service and in the social sector. We need your skills and your training, your passion and perspective. 

I knew I was meant to be a sociologist, and I am. It has taken a decade of practice and persistence to rewire my own brain, to feel proud of my professional success, to see my own success as equal to that found on other paths. 

So after a decade of public sociology work, I am documenting (for myself and others) the things I know now that I wish I’d known then:

There is no dream job. Your boss, your team, your board, your funders or the work itself may all be dreamy. But there is no alchemy for dream status. Don’t let people mislead you or confuse you, saying that the dream job is out there, or that something is wrong with you if you can’t find that dream position. And every person has a different conception of dreamy for them. Parts of a job are dreamy, but it’s rare to find the total package. And if you do, brace yourself because..

The only guarantee in public social science (or any job really) is that things will change. Leadership, funding, colleagues, projects, politics will all change. Nothing stays the same forever. The same is true of every job everywhere. No sector–and especially not higher education–is immune to change. Higher education is in a serious inflection moment and being employed there is no more secure than being employed anywhere else. Always be flexible and ready to adapt. 

You will be lots of things in your career (if you are lucky). You may be a writer or a teacher or an activist or a worker bee or a caretaker. Careers have seasons. Everything in life is experience. Be aware of the things that bring you joy, and the things that bring you down. Nothing you’ll do will be just one thing. Listen to those instincts and lean into the things you do well. I don’t love academic writing and publishing but I do love public speaking and teaching. I use those strengths to my advantage and I still push myself to write grants even if it’s not my favorite part of my job. Don’t apologize for choosing to be great at the things you do well, and never stop looking for chances to get better at the things that don’t come easily. 

There is value in public sociology. I purposefully and intentionally call this work “public sociology” and not “non-academic work.” Calling it “non-academic” implies that it is less than a role in the academy. Advisors and mentors want to minimize public sociology by making it seem like second tier status. Public sociology work is exciting and challenging. You may have the chance to support elected officials or work in a coalition. You may help influence the way a policy is written to reflect institutional inequality. As a sociologist of education, the opportunity to help people directly has been my primary motivation in my work. After a decade, that motivation is just as strong.

The door is a myth. I’m the same conscientious, driven, curious social scientist I was when they conferred my degree. I just don’t work in the place I thought I would. It’s not so scary out here–it may be uncharted but that’s what makes it exciting. 

There will be lanes and doors and paths and if I had to do it over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.