SAYAS BLOG

I’ve always recognized that rejection plays a role in the “Academic Game.” I’ve seen this discussed on academic and social media platforms and occasionally overheard scholars discussing similar ideas in hallways. In an academic and scientific setting, it is believed to be common, if not necessarily, to routinely receive critical feedback and hear the word “no.”

Despite knowing all of this, I was nonetheless shocked to receive my first dreaded letter after working on revisions on an article for months:

Similar to the experiences captured by Nthabeleng Hlapisi in an earlier blog this month, I immediately panicked. I felt like I have failed. My confidence was crushed. I was not even sure that I could write my own name.

A considerable rejection is frequently compared to a serious disease, death, or even the loss of a loved one, leading the author into the five stages of grief as outlined by a psychiatrist, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross:

Although I concur with this cycle description, I undoubtedly began my cycle at Stage 4, as I firmly believed that my career was ruined and that there were no alternatives. I identified with a well-known phrase: “we send our papers, carefully crafted to consider every angle and interpretation of our hard-won data, and ‘Slap!’ we’re squashed like vermin“, and was now wandering through the cycle’s many stages, trying to regain the squashed parts of myself: getting angry, bargaining, denying, getting depressed, getting angry once again. This incredibly fruitless loop persisted for a while.

Feelings of loneliness and detachment were some of the challenges I faced. Although I was aware that manuscripts are frequently rejected, the problem was that rejections from other researchers were practically never evident. If you look at published papers in scientific journals, there is nothing to suggest that it was ever rejected, regardless of whether it was initially a desk rejection by editors, a rejection after review, a rejected appeal, or significant adjustments before it was finally approved. Few researchers publicly announce all of their rejections (which makes sense). However, being an early career researcher, it would certainly be helpful to know that there are others with the same experiences. Therefore, in my journey to regain the squashed parts of myself, I’ve found some discussions on Researchgate on Dealing with frustrations on Rejections and the Know-how of emotionally coping with rejection and found that there could be a community of support once academics start discussing these experiences.

The CACHE- approach, recommended by Tress Academic, was my preferred way forward:

• Cool down: Do nothing, let it be, step away. Whatever you are feeling is normal. Spend time on something outside of work and sleep on it (for however long it takes).
• Analyse the letter: Carefully reread the feedback letter and summarise what the reason for rejection is. Each word has a specific meaning.
• Consider your options: Let go of the emotions and decide the way forward. Do you understand the decision, is it justifiable, can you address the suggested changes?
• Head on: Make a decision and submit the revised manuscript to the same journal or a different journal, submit the original manuscript to another journal, choose a different outlet, appeal, or discard the paper (least recommended).

Since receiving my first dreaded letter, I’ve come to understand that it does not imply the end of my career. Yes, it hurts and is frustrating, but it’s not the end of the world. It’s merely one of those all-to-familiar “try, try again (and again, and sometimes again) scenarios in academia. Looking back, I can even somewhat agree with the reviewers’ remarks and understand how they can enhance the output’s quality. A bittersweet scenario indeed.

I remember when I was in high school, I had to job shadow someone who was in a profession that I was interested in. At the time, I was interested in finding out what it’s like to be a bench scientist and lucky for me, my dad (a practising pharmacist) had a contact at Adcock Ingram and managed to organise for me to shadow a general bench scientist. So off I went, touring around the labs in one of my dad’s old white lab coats (it looked adorable!). As I toured the lab, a thought crossed my mind, “Wow! It looks so cool to be in a lab, this is definitely where I belong”. Oh, was I in over my head…

Fast forward 11 years and guess where I am? In a white lab coat working hard on developing a treatment for pancreatic cancer, one of the deadliest cancers. It’s quite cool how I ended up in a place which I always wanted, but it’s not as glamourous as I thought. I always wondered, “why does a Masters/PhD take years to complete?”. So, let’s get real. Let’s talk about what research is really about, what takes up our time, and why I think it’s one of the most frustrating occupations to have.

In every research area, there are a set of techniques, or in some fields experiments, that are constantly repeated, and although the techniques becomes second nature, that’s not the part of research that holds you back (well, at least not most of the time). It’s the inconsistent results, the replicates that have to be done, and of course, the samples (cells/proteins/plants) that just seem to never comply. One day your cells could be growing well, and the next, they could be contaminated (a.k.a story of my life). Now, it may seem like these are “minor” inconveniences, but they add up. Sometimes, it may even stop you from doing a specific experiment until the issues are sorted out. All of these issues take time and learning how to get around them is another part of research that becomes quite daunting, but it is quite rewarding when you finally find a way around these issues.

“So, once you produce results, you’re on the way, right?” NO. Not at all. Once you’ve produced results, it comes with weeks/months of analysing, understanding, reading, and sometimes, unfortunately, it comes with the famous, “so…this didn’t work”. But, when you have the desired results, it definitely is something to celebrate.

Another element to research, well at least as a student, is imposter syndrome. Constantly doubting yourself, skills and achievements should be the headliner of doing a PhD. Even I, to this day, still feel like I haven’t achieved the most out of my degree yet, and that there’s still so much that I need to learn. And while many people believe that such thinking is negative, I actually find it encouraging. It motivates me to continue doing my research and learning.

My goal here is not to defame the research profession, but to showcase the difficulties that come with being in research. Although these hardships make research jobs/ degrees time-consuming and frustrating, without them, where would the beauty in research be? With these challenges, come the rewards, the support, the friendships, and the communities. So, although research may seem “easy”, it is one of the most frustrating yet rewarding fields to be a part of. Every day I wake up with the thought of having a successful day in the lab, but when I encounter a problem, I know it’s just an opportunity for me to grow, learn and understand science…and that is simply what it means to be a scientist.