I was a ‘go, go, go’ academic. A fellowship abroad transformed my approach
From ScienceMag:
For 20 years, my life has been go, go, go. As a postdoctoral researcher and then a faculty member, I often found myself answering that one last email from a student while helping my children with homework or replying to a text from the lab while attending my son’s band concert. I was accustomed to arriving at my office each day before 8 a.m., coffee in hand, ready to tackle a long to-do list. I rarely had a lunch break, and when I did, it was spent at my desk replying to emails. My days were blurred by meetings, lab work, and deadlines, yet I still felt behind. That relentless pace seemed like the only way to be both a scientist and a parent—until a fellowship abroad showed me a new approach to research and life.
After receiving tenure in 2022 I considered taking a sabbatical. But I had 15 people in my lab, a partner who is also in academia with his own lab, and two children in elementary school. I felt I could not step away for a year. Then I connected with researchers in Uruguay seeking a collaborator experienced in my area, tick transgenics, and I got a short-term Fulbright fellowship to explore the opportunity. I envisioned my 3-month stay as an intense period of lab work, data collection, and scientific discoveries. The 5-hour time difference would leave me with enough hours to catch up with my lab and family back home.
When I arrived, I was dismayed to learn that the shuttle to the institute ran on a schedule that limited our work hours to 8 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Mornings started with shared maté and conversations about our weekends or evenings, followed later by an extended lunch break that was sacred. I felt impatient.
Yet my research progressed steadily. Outside of work, another kind of progress was unfolding. I was still working long hours because of my responsibilities as a lab head, graduate program director, and National Institutes of Health study section member, but the built-in breaks—which often included an evening snack or walk on the rambla—made all the difference. I still got my work done, and the slower rhythm also left space for deeper thinking, both in my experiments and in my life. I was learning the value of working with intention rather than urgency, and of leaving room for the parts of life that can’t be scheduled. A calmness set in. I found myself laughing more, sleeping better, and enjoying the life I have worked hard to build.
Midway through my fellowship my family arrived for an extended visit, and I took 3 weeks off for a once-in-a-lifetime journey. We wandered through bustling neighborhoods framed by the Andes, stood in silence under a desert sky heavy with stars, and felt the thunder of waterfalls drenching us in mist. I began to notice small things: my daughter’s fascination with seashells, my son’s growing ease with strangers and his first words of Spanish, the way my spouse and I laughed more instead of just discussing logistics.
When my fellowship ended 8 months ago, I returned with more than a set of data. I came back with a recalibrated sense of how I want to live and work. I no longer treat evenings and weekends as time to catch up on unfinished work; instead, I reserve them for my family and myself. Blocking my calendar so that no one can schedule a meeting during my off hours and letting my lab members know when I will be available has worked wonders. I’ve built small rituals into my routine—a morning walk, a lunch break away from the screen—and I keep a maté gourd on my desk as a reminder to pause and connect.
These modest changes have reshaped the texture of my days. I find myself more focused in the lab, more patient with my students, and more present with my family. Productivity, I’ve come to see, is not measured only by research papers and grants. It is also sustained by presence, rest, and the relationships that give meaning to the work.

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