This will sound harsh, but I’m not overly sympathetic to academics who complain about time and its fleeting absence. The argument is far too precious and idiosyncratic. Time, as the adage goes, is what you make of it.
After many years working in different universities, with a variety of different colleagues, I believe even more firmly in the necessity to build strong organizational and time management skills as a recipe for survival and success. I believe in choice too, in the power to decide how the average academic day, week, month, and year is shaped and used. I also believe in control, especially in a flexible job that allows the freedom to make personal and professional decisions. In such a unique work environment, there are very few convincing excuses for poor time management.
The argument is often linked to perceptions and feelings of ‘over-work’. The notion that work is thrust upon faculty (against their will), who in turn struggle to manage a healthy work-life balance. I admit to some truth here – that is, many faculty struggle to balance their work commitments with their personal lives as a direct consequence of mounting vocational pressures and formal expectations. There is a complexity of work, much of which appears to be ‘off-the-side-of-the-desk’. With the amorphous breakdown of duties in the traditional 40/40/20 split for academic teaching, research, and service, it’s very easy to lose sight of the larger picture; to be consumed with seemingly-endless work, to fall behind in the nebulous expectations, and to experience increasing and relentless pressure as a consequence.
But the truth is, I simply can’t relate. It’s just not my lived experience. I’ve often wondered why I feel this way, questioning my own position and privilege.
Habits are ostensibly critical to this conversation. What I’ve learned and observed has been a little different than many of my colleagues’ experience. I treated my PhD as a job, with strict, work-week hours and conditions. I was fortunate enough to approach it this way. And to this day I attribute my success to this organizational strategy, which I adopted early on. It worked for me, and has been a guiding principle throughout my professional career.
I can appreciate that it doesn’t work for everyone. But why not? For those who might find this approach untenable or unfeasible, I ask, ‘why’? Why not choose to adopt it if it’s something of interest, necessity, or even survival? Usually, the freedom to do so exists, to shape the hours in your work day. Doing so requires hard choices to be made, and decisions which must be owned. But it’s definitely possible, and even beneficial.
Blaming others for the absence of time is an indefensible position. Especially in such a flexible work environment with varying degrees of oversight. The fault lies within, I’d argue, with the person who is fitting their career too tightly into a confined template. While institutional norms and expectations, and the regular rhythms of the academic year, might provide the average framework, it’s how you operate within it that matters most.
At the risk of being overly-simplistic, how to manage your time is a habit-forming decision. It requires vision and follow-through. It requires commitment. And it requires a firm starting point.
Determining what you value in life, what you prioritize, is also critical to better time management. It’s about setting and honouring personal boundaries. It’s about living, modelling, and upholding principles. It’s also about letting go, and acceptance of what’s truly possible.
We can only do so much in a day. So the goal should be to maximize the time we have. Protect everything else with extreme vigilance. Striving for a healthy balance is challenging but not impossible in the academy. And once again, I’d argue that it’s all about personal responsibility and accountability. There are always excuses. There is always work to be done. And there are always external pressures. But the choices, and opportunities to make them, never disappear.
There’s also no good reason to over-work. Very few people are rewarded for doing so, despite all appearances. The negative effects far outweigh the positive. I’d wager that we’ve all seen this reality first-hand inside the university. The growing understanding of burnout, and attention to and support for mental health, provides a clear window into a problem of our own creation. But it’s not a fixed obstacle; it can be massaged into something more palatable and workable for individual success.
I choose to organize my time in order to manage and enjoy it. And I take full personal responsibility, holding myself accountable to ensure that I accomplish the goals which I set. There will always be distractions, changes, and flux along the way, as well as opportunities to overload the calendar. Yet the freedom to choose, to be intentional, seldom disappears in this profession. Our allotment of time, as has been said for thousands of years, is brief and fleeting. So why, given this knowledge, would anyone dispense of it without sound purpose?