The Old Academic Scripts No Longer Work
And what high-performing scholars must rethink to build sustainable academic careers
When many of us entered academia, we were handed a script.
It was rarely written down, but it was clear:
Work hard.
Publish consistently.
Secure grants.
Build a strong CV.
Do those things well enough, and you would earn a coveted tenure-track position.
And if you remained a diligent scholar, you would earn tenure, securing the freedom to pursue meaningful scholarship and build a comfortable life for your family.
As the first person in my family to earn a Ph.D., for a long time, I believed that script.
Just a few months after earning tenure, amid changing federal rules and increased scrutiny over what could be taught or researched, I realized how fragile my position—and the tenure system itself—really is.
This new perspective was prompted by being told that, if I wanted to stay in my faculty position, I would need to modify my research agenda to align with new restrictions.
This moment made it painfully clear how contingent the academic enterprise is—whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.
In just a few short months, I watched the rules change.
The expectations for productivity and innovation did not.
Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash
This is a post in my “Systems That Shape Us” series, where I explore how institutional structures quietly shape behavior, belonging, and burnout in higher education. These posts examine what our classrooms, workplaces, and policies teach, often implicitly, about struggle, care, and who is expected to carry the cost.
When the Supports Shrink but the Expectations Remain
This is not everyone’s story. My experience was tied to a specific set of federal policies. But the erosion of stability in higher education has been unfolding for years.
For some scholars, evidence of this shift has shown up in the job market. Even students from top programs with impressive CVs are no longer guaranteed an interview.
For others, it has appeared after a promotion. Service expectations have increased—as they always do—but the supporting resources have simultaneously diminished.
Sabbaticals are fewer and farther between, if they are guaranteed at all.
Retiring faculty are not replaced, which means everyone who remains must absorb their work in addition to their own.
Class sizes have also grown.
Teaching loads have increased.
If graduate enrollment has stalled in your department, TA support has been drastically reduced, meaning that grading time has expanded alongside everything else.
And through it all, the expectation to publish has remained steady.
What has changed is not the demand for excellence—it is the level of institutional support available to sustain it.
Outworking Instability in Higher Education
When academia’s promised outcomes no longer reliably follow from the prescribed behaviors, most high-performing scholars do not question the script.
They lean in and try to outwork the instability.
They work longer hours.
They squeeze writing into fifteen-minute windows between meetings.
They say yes to one more committee, hoping visibility will translate into security.
They tell themselves that once summer arrives, things will finally stabilize.
But waiting until the summer is not a strategy.
Continuing to follow the old scripts without question carries real risk. Over time, it becomes a recipe for burnout.
If you’ve found yourself working harder than ever while feeling less secure than before, you are not imagining that tension.
You cannot control tenure policy.
You cannot control funding rates.
You cannot control political cycles.
But you are not powerless.
You still have choices.
You can decide how your work is structured.
You can clarify what deserves your energy in this season and what doesn’t.
You can design systems that allow you to prioritize, pivot, or pause deliberately.
However, this kind of clarity rarely emerges in isolation.
Right now, even expressing uncertainty can feel complicated.
In some departments, questioning direction or capacity is interpreted as weakness. Friends and family often do not understand the nuances of academic labor. Even well-meaning colleagues may not have the bandwidth to think deeply with you.
That is where structured thought partnership becomes useful.
This is the kind of work I do when partnering 1:1 with faculty and graduate students.
My work is grounded in a clear process—one that helps scholars map their commitments, surface misalignment, and leave with concrete next steps rather than vague reassurance.
Over the past year, many scholars have told me they wish their departments provided this kind of structured partnership. In the absence of that support, some choose to invest in it themselves—not as an indulgence, but as a way to protect their time, energy, and long-term trajectory.
They see it as a way to respond strategically within the conditions that exist.
If you have been waiting for clarity to arrive on its own, consider this your permission to design it deliberately.
In March, I’m opening four spots for my Scholarly Systems Reset—a three-session strategic partnership designed to help you clarify priorities, redesign your workflow, and move forward with intention in a changing environment.
If you’d like to explore whether this would be a good fit for you and the season you’re in, you can schedule a 20-minute Reset conversation here.
Until next time,
Brielle aka Your Cooperative Colleague
P.S. TL;DR: The old academic scripts no longer reliably produce stability. Working harder won’t fix that. The Scholarly Systems Reset is a three-session structured thought partnership designed to help you rethink how your research, teaching, and service fit together in this season. If you’re feeling stretched thin but want a clearer path forward, schedule a 20-minute Reset conversation here.