Education Beyond the Job Description
When I finished law school, the first question people asked was predictable: “So, where will you practice?” My answer—“I won’t”—was usually met with surprise, sometimes even confusion. Years later, when I was studying for my doctorate in education, the same question returned in another form: “Which university will you teach at?” Again, my answer disappointed expectations. I never practiced law and never became a professor, yet both experiences have profoundly shaped my life and career in ways that can’t be measured by job titles or traditional career paths.
This came to mind as I read recent commentary about universities pausing Ph.D. admissions in certain fields, particularly the humanities. Much of the public discussion focuses on the job market—how many graduates get faculty positions, how many don’t, and whether the degrees are “worth it.” While those are valid concerns, we sometimes mistake the purpose of education for its outcome. The value of learning isn’t always transactional, and reducing it to employment metrics diminishes what higher education can truly offer.
My law degree taught me to think differently. The rigor of legal reasoning—dissecting arguments, examining assumptions, understanding systems of accountability—has shaped how I approach organizational leadership, philanthropy, and consulting. I may not have argued cases in a courtroom, but I’ve used those same analytical tools to negotiate complex partnerships, interpret policy, and help institutions make better, more ethical decisions.
My doctoral work deepened that perspective. Studying educational leadership wasn’t about earning another credential; it was about understanding how people learn, how organizations grow, and how change takes root. The experience reshaped how I mentor others, design strategy, and even see my role in helping institutions evolve. The Ed.D. didn’t make me a professor—it made me a better learner, and, by extension, a better leader.
That said, education is not free—financially, emotionally, or in time. Every degree requires investment, and making wise decisions about value is essential. Understanding why you are pursuing a degree—what you hope to gain and how it fits your broader goals—matters as much as the pursuit itself. For me, both degrees were purposeful choices grounded in curiosity and long-term value, not short-term return. That distinction has made all the difference.
So when I hear that universities are rethinking graduate education, I see both the caution and the opportunity. Yes, programs should be honest about career outcomes and the realities of today’s job market. But we also need to protect the idea that education itself—the pursuit of knowledge, critical thinking, and self-awareness—has enduring value beyond a paycheck.
Not every degree needs to lead directly to a “job.” Sometimes, it leads to better judgment, broader perspective, and deeper curiosity. Those outcomes don’t appear on a résumé, but they often make the difference between success that’s superficial and success that’s sustainable.
If education only prepares us to do, we miss half the point. The best education also prepares us to be—to think clearly, act ethically, and contribute meaningfully. By that measure, my law degree and doctorate have paid dividends that no employment statistic could ever capture.
