Preface
This article originally set out to compare my experiences in academia and industry, with the aim of offering graduate students some insight into which career path to pursue. However, as soon as I began reflecting on my academic journey, what started as a comparison quickly turned into a therapy session—complete with a rant about why I left. Then, when it came time to discuss industry, I found myself venting about the frequent (and often insulting) misconceptions people have about professors.
At this point, I’m not sure the article has a single, clear purpose—but I hope it serves several. It’s partly advice for students considering different paths, partly a candid look for professors wondering if the grass is greener elsewhere, and partly a behind-the-scenes glimpse at the realities of a professor’s life. More than anything, it’s an attempt to dispel some of the most common myths about academia.
Introduction
“If you go into industry, you’ll actually have to work.” This was what an industry sponsor told one of my PhD students when he expressed an interest in pursuing a career outside academia.
“We need to eliminate tenure so professors have to work.” I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard some version of this, from people who’ve never attended college to those in the highest levels of government.
In both cases, I had to bite my tongue. It was frustrating to hear such misguided accusations of being a “lazy academic,” especially when, for most of my 16+ years in academia, I worked over 80 hours a week, often making significant personal sacrifices. I’d bet anything I worked more hours than the people making these claims.
I was a workaholic, and I wasn’t alone. While it’s true that some professors manage to coast (rarely, and usually in highly specific circumstances), the stereotype of the “lazy academic” is wildly inaccurate—at least in engineering departments (I can’t speak for other fields).
Throughout my career, I confided in many colleagues about the stresses of work, and unsurprisingly, they were facing similar stresses. Many even admitted to seeing therapists to manage work-related depression. While I can’t share all the details, I can say that in one internal university survey, 25% of the faculty who responded reported being in therapy to cope with work stress. I suspect the true number was much higher, as most faculty would be reluctant to disclose any health information (mental or physical) to their employer, even in a supposedly anonymous survey. The therapists I worked with often expressed open frustration for my university, as it was the primary source of mental-health issues for many of their patients.
The reality of academia is the opposite of the “lazy academic” stereotype. Most professors work unhealthy hours, and most universities demand it, pushing you to do more, no matter how successful you are.
In this article, I aim to dispel myths about academia by sharing my own academic experience, alongside stories from other faculty across a range of institutions. I’ll explain why I became a professor, what I loved about academia, what I disliked, why I ultimately left, and how my experience in industry (so far) compares.
To be clear, none of the negative experiences described here are meant as criticism of the University of Florida. UF was an incredible place to work, and for a long time, I planned to retire there. The problems I describe are systemic—they span universities and disciplines, as confirmed by countless conversations I’ve had with other professors.
Why I went into academia
I discovered I wanted to be a professor during my undergraduate studies. I was obsessed with learning and felt a kind of magic on campus. I had found a place where all of my lifelong curiosities were being explained, leading to regular epiphanies about how technology, nature, and the world worked. It was an environment I never wanted to leave.
Towards the end of my undergraduate studies, I joined a research lab to get experience in my chosen field of computer science. I quickly realized that this was what I wanted to spend my life doing. I had always had a tendency to imagine “wild-and-crazy” technological ideas, and research gave me a path towards realizing those ideas.
I enjoyed research so much that I started looking into careers that would match my lab experience. Becoming a professor was a natural choice.
What I liked about academia
For many years, I loved being a professor. For readers not familiar with academic responsibilities, professors typically have three primary roles: research, teaching, and service.
Research was why I originally went into academia. I loved the flexibility of being able to explore every idea I could come up with. I loved constantly learning and advancing the state-of-the-art in various computational areas. I enjoyed writing and presenting papers, and working with some of the most brilliant people in the world.
As much as I loved research, teaching eventually became my primary passion. I had always enjoyed teaching in various forms—whether it was giving piano, guitar, and trumpet lessons, or tutoring subjects like math, physics, and computer science during my undergrad years. But, my appreciation for teaching deepened when I saw my students develop the same excitement for learning that I once had. Watching them experience those “aha” moments, when something complex suddenly clicked, was incredibly rewarding. It reminded me of the joy I felt as a student and made teaching even more fulfilling.
Eventually, despite being recognized as an expert in my research field, I began to be more widely known for the quality of students I graduated. I wasn’t bothered by this shift in focus. On the contrary, it became one of my proudest accomplishments. Watching my former students achieve great things has been deeply satisfying. Their collective contributions to the world far outweigh anything I could have achieved on my own, and that has been one of the most validating experiences of my career.
What I didn’t like about academia
While I loved research, it’s impossible to accomplish most research without funding. No university will publicly admit it, but research funding is the primary metric by which professors are evaluated. You can be an ineffective teacher and an average researcher, but if you bring in significant grant money, you’ll still be seen as a valuable asset to the institution.
Due to its importance, writing grant proposals was always where I spent the most time. At the start of my career, I had a significant amount of success finding research funding, so I was able to maintain a balance between all my responsibilities. This initial success is typical for new assistant professors. They are usually fresh out of their PhD studies and have become leading experts in an emerging field. Since emerging fields are often prioritized for funding, being an expert in a new field is a huge advantage.
As an area starts to mature, funding tends to shift towards newer topics, leaving faculty with two choices: shift their expertise to a newer area, or accept a decrease in funding. I have a huge passion for my primary research area, and wanted to focus on long-standing unsolved problems for which I felt I had promising solutions. I didn’t want to simply chase funding without a genuine interest in the topic.
Unfortunately, this meant my funding decreased. As a result, I couldn’t fund as many students. It eventually meant that I was looking at the possibility of a massive decrease in salary. For those unfamiliar with academic salaries, universities usually cover about 75% (9 months) of your salary, with the rest being paid by research grants. To have a successful research lab, students are the highest priority, so professors can only pay themselves if there is enough funding left after paying students. For many professors, there isn’t enough funding left, and they don’t get paid for three months. While in theory, professors aren’t supposed to have job responsibilities while unpaid, in practice, the demands of academia necessitate working for free. You can’t simply stop writing grants and advising students, or you will never be able to recover.
After the recent inflation crisis, I simply was not financially comfortable with the potential loss of three months of pay. As a result, I gave in and started pursuing areas of research with more funding. Getting established in a new area is incredibly difficult. It is similar to starting your career over. I spent at least 40 hours a week just writing research proposals, and when close to a deadline, that amount could easily jump to 80-100 hours.
Nobody enjoys writing proposals, and it was dominating all of my time. I had little or no time for the parts of my job I enjoyed the most. I couldn’t develop new teaching curriculum. I barely interacted with my PhD students. And, despite all my efforts, I still didn’t bring in enough to pay myself for much of the three months of summer. Ultimately, I was pretty miserable, my work-life balance was non-existent, and there was no probable way of recovering.
During my academic career, I was approached many times about industry jobs that paid multiples of my current salary. One company promised to double my pay and cut my hours in half. At the time, I wasn’t interested because I still had projects I wanted to finish and ideas I wanted to explore. But, as time went on, I realized I was spending all my time on parts of my job I didn’t enjoy. Meanwhile, I had companies offering massive pay increases, significantly fewer job responsibilities, and better work-life balance.
Eventually, I gave in to temptation and decided to at least interview with some of these companies. I had exhausted every path at UF to earn a raise, without success. I figured that even if I didn’t find a job I loved, a competitive offer might at least convince UF to give me a raise. However, as I went through the interview process, I began to realize just how miserable I had become in my academic job. Companies were offering me roles where I could still innovate—satisfying my passion for research—while working normal hours and earning a significantly higher salary.
It was the hardest career decision I’ve ever had to make, but realistically, there was no way to keep me from leaving for industry. When I found a company that not only excited me but also allowed me to continue teaching as an adjunct, the opportunity was simply too good to pass up.
How does industry compare?
While my experiences with academia seem to be largely universal, I’ve observed a wide range of opinions regarding job satisfaction in industry. Although I directly collaborated with many companies while in academia, I’m still in no place to summarize industry as a whole, especially given that I’ve only worked there full-time for just over a year.
While I’m not at liberty to discuss what I do in my current role, I can say I am extremely satisfied with it. I still get to innovate, so my research itch is still being scratched. My work-life balance is infinitely better. Whereas I worked every weekend while in academia, I rarely do in industry, and when I do, it is usually because I want to. The pay is certainly better, but that’s never been my main motivation or I never would have gone into academia.
Another downside of academia is that the vast majority of your projects disappear, with publications being the only deliverable proving that you accomplished something. This is true for even the most famous professors. In industry, it is quite satisfying to know that everything I do is deployed, often immediately. I’ve always been obsessed with hardware acceleration, and optimization problems in general, so having all my work make an immediate impact is an incredible motivator.
While I certainly miss working with other professors and students, I get enough interactions with my teammates to fill that void. In addition, I’m still teaching remotely at UF as an adjunct professor, so I still get to do my favorite part of being a professor, without any of the grant writing.
Based on my experiences so far in my current role at Quantlab, I have no regrets about leaving academia.
Any advice for students trying to decide between academia and industry?
While I may seem to be suggesting that you avoid academia due to poor work-life balance, that is not the goal of this article. Instead, I’m hoping to inform incoming faculty about the risks they face and how to minimize them.
One of the key differences between industry and academia is that in academia, you are never “done” with your job. There is always another proposal that can be submitted, another paper that can be written, more networking that can be done. Most professors are used to succeeding at whatever they do, so it’s hard to accept falling behind your peers.
My advice for handling this is simple, yet incredibly difficult for those used to success: stop caring how you compare with your peers. Do what you can. Define a set of work hours that you will stick to, no matter what. Do not slowly sacrifice all your hobbies to make more time for work. Do not sacrifice your health by giving up exercise, a healthy diet, a healthy sleep schedule, etc. Your peers spend no time thinking about how well you are doing. They are too busy worrying about how they are doing.
Again, that’s easier said than done, and I certainly didn’t follow my own advice. I was simply too afraid of not getting tenure to relax and take time for myself. Being used to succeeding, failing to get tenure would have been humiliating.
However, nearly 20 years later, and after having spent time in industry, I can confidently say that in most situations, there is little risk in not getting tenure. The vast majority of professors would not have any problems finding another job.
So, my advice is to set boundaries and stick with them. If you don’t get tenure, it might hurt initially, but eventually you won’t care. You might even be grateful.
In hindsight, I would have easily gotten tenure without killing myself at work. I likely would have still been promoted to full professor also. But, universities will almost never let you know that you are doing enough, so you have to ignore them and stick to your boundaries. At my mid-tenure review, I was told I needed improvement in all areas of my job. At tenure, I received an award for the most successful assistant professor in the college. Clearly, they were lying to me at the mid-tenure review. In fact, I’ve talked with faculty who bring in millions of dollars in research funding each year, and are still told to do more.
If you’re going to go into academia, you have to learn to ignore this. Recognize legitimate criticism, but don’t tie your happiness to your employer’s opinion of you. Unless you are lucky enough to work in a seemingly rare non-toxic environment, you will never be happy.
I can only speculate, but I’m guessing if I had followed my own advice, I might still be in academia, if not for the financial pressures of losing three months of pay. Even that problem can often be solved. Most faculty experience a significant decrease in funding at some point in their career. Universities often help out by assigning them administrative positions to cover the three months of lost salary. I explored this option quite aggressively before deciding to leave academia. I was just unable to find a position, and my industry options were just too attractive to wait for something to become available. With a healthier work-life balance, and an administrative position to cover my missing salary, I would have never left academia.
I will say that if you hate writing research proposals, you will eventually get burned out in academia, unless you are interested in an administrative position. Many of my colleagues in industry have said that they abandoned plans for academia based on horrors stories about grant writing.
While I can’t give much personal advice about industry, work-life balance issues can certainly be unhealthy there too. I’ve taught over 2,000 students, many who follow up with me about their industry experiences. Many of them love their jobs. Many of them hate their jobs. Research what you can both about the company and the group within the company. I often had groups reach out to me to hire my students, and some had such a bad reputation that my students would refuse to even interview.
In summary, if you are interested in making as much money as possible, industry is almost certainly a better choice. If you’re interested in many topics and want to research your own ideas, academia is likely going to be a better fit, assuming you are strict with your work-life boundaries.
And, just like me, you don’t have to pick just one for your entire life. Even with the widespread myths about academia, I gained huge advantages in my search for industry jobs by being a professor. By being in academia, I worked with numerous companies, which gave me insight into a breadth of engineering solutions that few are able to experience without a lengthy career of job hopping. Academia enabled me to establish myself as a leading expert in various areas, and now I get to apply that unique expertise in industry.
While it’s probably more common for people in industry to later join academia, if you’re going to do that it is critically important to find a job that lets you publish. You’ll never be hired as a professor without an impressive publication list. Some industry positions allow you to network with people who establish budgets, allowing for you to have a pipeline of funding when you join academia.
Final Thoughts
I hope this article has helped to dispel the often pervasive myth of the “lazy academic.” As I’ve discussed, the reality of academia is far from the stereotype. Most professors work extremely long hours, often making significant personal sacrifices to push their research forward, teach effectively, and serve their communities. In fact, academia can be demanding in ways that are invisible to the public eye, and these demands can lead to severe work-life imbalance.
Deciding between academia and industry is a deeply personal choice, and there’s no one-size-fits-all answer. Both paths offer unique opportunities and challenges. Academia provides the chance to dive deep into research and teach the next generation of innovators, but it comes with pressures that can affect your work-life balance and ultimately your mental health. Industry, on the other hand, offers greater financial rewards and a more predictable work-life balance, but it may limit the freedom to pursue personal research ideas.
One of the key takeaways from my experience is the importance of managing your expectations and setting clear boundaries. Academia, with its demands for constant research output, teaching excellence, and service, can push you to the brink if you aren’t careful. It’s crucial to recognize the pressure that comes with this role, but also to acknowledge that you can set limits on how much you sacrifice for work. This isn’t about abandoning responsibility—it’s about avoiding burnout and maintaining a sustainable career.
For students and early-career professionals, my advice is simple: understand your priorities. Do you crave the intellectual freedom of research? Or do you want to see your work have an immediate, tangible impact? Do you value teaching and mentoring others? Or are you looking for a more structured work environment with higher compensation and flexibility? Whatever you decide, make sure it aligns with your personal values and long-term goals.
In the end, the journey is unique to each individual, and it’s about finding a path that not only challenges you but also brings you fulfillment. In my experience, the most rewarding career is one that allows you to continue learning, growing, and making a meaningful impact—whether that’s in academia, industry, or even both.