1. I was once called useless by my Dean. No one ever called me that before. The embarrassment was numbing. I left the Dean’s office with a lump in my throat. My mouth was suddenly dry, and my head began to feel heavy. I can feel my heart racing the way it does when I play football. This was one of the many scars that I carry for life. Traumatic. 

I sulked for two weeks and wrote my resignation letter.  

This was the Dean who I looked up to for winning a prestigious national science award. I aspired to win the same award, if not bigger ones. It must have taken a special academic to secure such recognition. The cut ran deep when you were called useless by a person of such stature. 

2. This was the same Dean who denied my Master of Engineering Sciences work from being awarded a distinction, pre-useless-incident. The same Dean who remarked cynically when I sought opinion on how best to begin a high impact research project, post-useless-incident.   

These misfortunes took place when I was a junior lecturer. Grade DS45. The smallest of fries in the academic food chain. The Dean – the alpha – sat at the top. The apex. A professor. Grade VK7 or JUSA C. Between the alpha and the fry, there are senior lecturers (DS51/52), and associate professors (DS53/54) – larger fishes.  

Small fries are easy pickings.  

And in hindsight, I understood why I was conveniently picked on.  

Of course, also in hindsight, I would not have it any other way. Clichéd I know.  

I should probably thank that Dean for being the asbab, the vessel that changed my academic trajectory for the better.  

3. Several things took place following the fateful alpha-fry monologue.  

a) I took a hard look at the University’s annual performance assessment form and to my dismay, realised that:  
I did not take the form seriously and did not spend enough time filling it.  

There were empty parts in the form, meaning I did not do what was expected of me.  

It was possible for me to provide appendices to extend my narratives, although I doubt that I had a lot to say. 

I realised that the Dean was right.  

b) I next formed the Junior Lecturer Forum or JoLF (I was big on acronyms then).  

I gathered those junior colleagues of mine who were interested, and related the alpha-fry story as a cautionary tale. I wished that no one else had to endure a similar episode.  

We then invited promising senior talents in the Faculty to share their success stories and pitfalls in early stage academic career. They were mostly motivational and we began forming a more complete picture on what were expected of us.  

I realised most of us were like me. Clueless. 

In JoLF, we found strength in numbers and we began charting our respective paths.  

Years later, I became a regular speaker in Higher Education Leadership Academy (AKEPT), sharing my then limited experiences on finding balance in our career with junior academics around the country. This was JoLF extended. Alhamdulillah. 

And years after AKEPT, I stumbled upon this quote: If you want to go fast, walk alone; If you want to go far, walk together. This is JoLF summarised. 

c) I then decided to head for my PhD and suffered a lot of setbacks in securing a scholarship. I had to endure the suspenseful waits which mostly ended with rejections. It was that one last throw of the dice that eventually led me to a scholarship, and I was the last person to receive it before the scheme was shut for good.  

4. I left for my PhD late 2003. 

This was my one chance to set things right.  

I was aggressively driven by the alpha-fry incident.  

I was hell bent on proving the Dean wrong about me. Dead wrong.  

5. I did a lot during my PhD. Plus, I was working part time to make ends meet. 

I observed how my research group was led and managed, how spinoffs were formed and grown, how postgraduates were trained in delivering technical talks and articles, how procurement was done, how lab safety was handled, and how intensely hardworking the most talented among us were.  

I joined undergraduate classes to pick up on the knowledge, and to see how they were imparted. I copied undergraduate lab sheets, hoping to implement them when I am back in my Faculty.  

I joined volunteers speaking science to school kids, attended symposiums, interviewed high flying researchers, discussed with seasoned experts who won just about every award there was barring the Nobel Prize, and formed collaborative networks. In the process, I won several awards, published several papers, participated in technical conferences, and filed a patent.  

6. Perhaps one unique thing that I also did was poring over my supervisor’s and co-supervisor’s research grant proposals because I knew that raising funds will be one of the biggest challenges faced by small fries like me.  

You have zero research traction when you return from your PhD and you have to hit the ground sprinting. You carry the burden of expectations from many. Your University wants to see publications, grants, and supervision. The public wants to see impact to the society, industry, and nation. You have colleagues and acquaintances offering unsolicited advice on the do’s and don’ts. You seldom realise that if you choose the wrong advice, it is your career that would be negatively impacted, not the advisors who were safe in the fact that they are already tenured – deservedly or otherwise. 

You can consider yourself lucky if you find mentors who are willing to bring you into their research group. Who would allow you to piggyback on their grants while you find your footing. Who will offer co-supervision opportunities for you to gain experience in handling postgraduates. You needed to transition from a full time researcher to a part time research manager/leader very rapidly. The latter role involves securing grants, learning procurement procedures, recruiting and training fresh talents, and producing progress reports.  

You will also realise that positive short term outcomes will only appear in a year or more from when you secure a grant, and the larger impacts to the industry, community, and nation would only happen if you have been consistent in delivering results, thus making a name for yourself. There are no shortcuts. These require years of hard work and persistence. 

7. Also, you can consider yourself extremely lucky if your Head of Department spares you the endless administrative tasks like being coordinator for undergraduate teaching schedules, where you have to ensure senior academics get preferred time slots, thus pushing your own classes to deathly hours like 8am on a Monday, or 6pm on a Friday.  
8. Alarmingly, in most cases, you will find yourself on your own. 

And in most cases, like me, you will not be as lucky. 

And if you do not realise these, then you run the risk of being called useless by your superior. Like me. 

While my narratives lean towards academia, I hope those facing similar challenges would realise that you are not alone. And perhaps, one way of overcoming challenges and setbacks is to find strength in numbers. A form of JoLF. 

9. Speaking of setbacks, two weeks into my third year, the lab facilities and office space I shared with other PhD candidates went up in flames. One of the largest cleanroom fire in the UK, with initial loss estimated around GBP100mil. This was October 2006. Some of my colleagues lost their entire PhD work. They went numb. In moments like those, I chose not to offer any forms of comforting words. I just let them be.    

We had to look for alternatives and worked tirelessly to get back on track. There were days when we felt optimistic. Other days were scattered with heartbreaks. Sometimes progress crawled to a halt. We propped each other and we continued slogging it out. The environment was one of positive, professional, and the standards set for performance were high. We walked together. I believe, in the end, all of us went far. 

I sat for my viva the following June.  

10. It took me 6 years to go from small fry DS45 to VK7.  

To many, this was a meteoric rise. It was, Alhamdulillah. But little do people know about what took place 6 years before, from 2002 to 2007, from useless, to PhD, to lab fire, and everything in between. 

I have shared my formative years with you. They were hardly smooth sailing. Rough seas make good sailors. Perhaps this is why they were called formative – to form a better version of ourselves. The higher you set your aim, the pricier the price you have to pay.   

11.  People say change is the only constant. In that sense, we are always in transition, and always changing directions – be they out of our own conviction, or forced onto us. It is important to realise that successful transitions require new skill sets and knowledge. We can learn them from our colleagues who have credibility and a good heart. Also from books. Academics in particular, I think, should be ardent readers. Plus, lasting progress requires time, persistence, and a positive environment to grow. 
12. There is a verse in the Quran, a chapter called Al-Qasas, that relates the story of the prophet Musa A.S. at his direst. It tells of how we will always be bestowed with what we need, instead of what we want. And we are in constant need of whatever good that we can be blessed with. 

Being called useless was probably what I needed. A blessing only acknowledged years later. 

And I believe you will face setbacks and heartbreaks, which in hindsight, years later, you would realise that they were what you needed in your quest to build this beloved Tanahair of ours.