By Aaron Wootton

It was the Fall semester of 2003; I was sat at a table having lunch with friends from graduate school. One friend asked, “Who has started applying for jobs?” It dawned on me: this was my last year of graduate school, and I needed to do something afterwards. I have no idea why it took a friend to remind me of this, but after 5 ½ years in school, I was comfortable in my life, so I guess I had suppressed the thought of what to do afterwards. Panic set in – the only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted to continue to do mathematics. Staying in academia seemed like the obvious and only choice.

I was a first-generation student and had zero knowledge of how to secure an academic job. Indeed, I had never even drafted a resume – it wasn’t required for admission into college or graduate school, and all my jobs prior to graduate school were not the sort of jobs that needed resumes. I had no one to turn to in my family for help, so I figured I would educate myself and go from there.

The next few days, I familiarized myself with the ins and outs of the job market. Mathjobs was in its very early days, so applications were sent via snail mail. I was busy finishing up my dissertation research, so rather than take the time to sift through the job ads, I took the “spaghetti on the wall” approach to see what sticks; that is, I would apply to pretty much all available jobs. Sure, it was going to be a big task, but as far as I was concerned, each application was identical: a cover letter, CV, teaching and research statements, transcripts, and letters of recommendation. Really, the work was stuffing envelopes, and I had plenty of experience doing that as a part time job as a teenager.

I spent the next couple of days putting together my application materials. At the University of Arizona, I was fortunate enough to have six whole years of teaching experience – that alone, in my view, was going to make my application stand out head and shoulders above others. To highlight my experience, I started my teaching statement with a laundry list of all the different responsibilities I had been given and the wide range of classes I had taught. My research statement focused on the technical results of my dissertation. My cover letters were curt and to the point: “To whom it may concern, Please consider this application for your position. Sincerely, me!” Finally, I wandered around the department asking faculty members who I knew (friends and former teachers) to draft me letters. I also asked a teaching advisor if he would write about my teaching, as he had observed me 2-3 years beforehand.

In my view, this was the perfect application package. How could anyone resist an experienced and seasoned teacher who would bring a solid and sustainable research agenda? I figured with my teaching experience, if I did not land a job at a research-oriented school, I would be a shoo-in at a smaller four-year college. Boy, was I wrong!!!

December passed, and the letters started arriving: “Dear Mr Wootton, We thank you for your application but regret to inform you… .” At first, it was just letters from the big-name schools and postdocs. It didn’t worry me too much. Sure, I was hopeful, but I was also realistic that I probably wasn’t getting a job at Harvard or Cambridge or that NSF postdoc. However, as JMM gradually approached, my friends were getting invites for interviews in the employment center. Yet still nothing on my end! It was at this point I was getting 2-3 letters per day, all the same: “Thank you for your application, but… .” Panic set in.

By April, the dust had settled. From over 150 applications, I had received a grand total of zero interviews and no job offers. This was not a single rejection, this was 150+ rejections in the space of a 5-month period. I was devastated. What had gone so terribly wrong that I was not even called up for even a single interview?

Perturbed, I was just about ready to walk away from academia. However, two things stopped me: first, partly through lack of time but also partly through arrogance, I had not taken the whole process as seriously as I should have done – I just assumed I would land a job. Second, and more importantly: I loved my work and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. So, I knew I had to try again, but this time, I was going to do it right. If I did not secure a job the second time around, I could at least walk away knowing I had tried my hardest. Seeing my plight, the University of Arizona offered a one-semester position in the fall of 2004 to help tide me over, so I decided to use that time to get started.

That summer, I met with several faculty mentors at the University of Arizona to figure out what went wrong. I received a tremendous amount of useful advice. For example, one comment from these meetings that sticks with me to this day was about my teaching statement: “You do a tremendous amount for your students, but I have to wade through two pages of lists of duties before I see that. I imagine few potential employers got past the first page!”

I received similar comments about other aspects of my application. For example, for my recommendation letters, why had I not chosen people more familiar with my teaching or research? Why was my research statement only targeted at experts? It was becoming clear that my application was weak at best and likely did not even make it past the initial cull for most job searches.

Over the next few months, I worked diligently on creating an application package following the advice I had received. In addition, rather than trying to write an application focused on what I thought people wanted to hear, I focused my application on why I was a good fit for a career in academia and how a career in academia aligned closely with my aspirations and values. My teaching statement now started with how fostering student success was a primary driver of my desire to teach; my research statement started with a more user-friendly introduction to my research and included a variety of future projects that could include undergraduates. For my recommendation letters, I sought out faculty mentors who were renowned teachers to sit in my classes both to offer advice on how I could grow, but also to write a meaningful evaluation. I also sat down with researchers in my department who worked in areas closely related to mine, and we discussed my research so they could write meaningful letters. Finally, I took the time and effort to read the job ads and only apply for jobs that I truly felt I was a good fit for, and then I explained precisely why I was a good fit in my cover letters.

The first true test of my new application came in the fall of 2004. The University of Arizona made clear that my one-semester position could not be extended, so I applied for and landed the only advertised job for a one-semester spring position. The position was at Alfred University in western New York State. As it was only a one-semester position, I traveled on my own, spending five months apart from my newlywed partner. During my time at Alfred, I continued to seek opportunities to grow by engaging with my new colleagues. I also took advantage of the available resources, such as practicing my job talk in their undergraduate seminar. Additionally, with oodles of time to myself (and there is a lot of down time when there is three feet of snow on the ground until mid-March), I threw myself into my research, proving a result which, to date, appears in my most highly cited paper. It was an extremely difficult few months, but I made the most of it. Looking back, I see how I grew more in that semester than perhaps any other.

So, how does my story end? Six months later, I was fortunate enough to be picking and choosing between three highly desirable jobs, each of which I knew I would be happy in. Ultimately, I chose to move to the University of Portland where there was a strong focus on teaching but also a supportive community of scholars where I could continue to pursue mathematical research. It also helps that the weather was very much like home!

It was extremely humbling, but I learned a tremendous amount that year. Perhaps the biggest takeaway from this whole experience, though, was the following: don’t be afraid to speak to people to ask for help! I can attribute my success the second time around to the wonderful advice I received. I was hesitant at first, but it turns out if you ask nicely, most people want to help — they want you to be successful!