The academic system in the Czech Republic (Prague, pictured) lacks a formal tenure track, and junior researchers often move from one fixed-term contract to the next, tied to individual grants.Credit: Getty
While doing my PhD in geotechnical engineering at a small, slow-paced university in Italy, I spent years working in near silence, unravelling the mechanics of tiny clay particles in a laboratory where I was the only student. My first postdoctoral position, in China, presented a sharp contrast, immersing me in one of the world’s busiest research centres, where I studied some of the mechanics behind geohazards.
When I joined Charles University in Prague in 2018 for my second postdoc, I thought I had found the right middle ground. The university was large enough to inspire and assist me in my work, yet small enough to give me space and feel like a comfortable place to work. With a few easy-going senior colleagues and friendly young workmates, my new department quickly felt like an extended family. China had been full of opportunities, but the competition was intense, and I feared that might eventually take a toll on my mental health.
To begin with, I was content in Prague, steadily completing tasks for my supervisor’s project. But soon I grew restless, wanting to carve out my own role in academia — and, in 2020, I won funding to start my own lab. At that point, my comfort zone suddenly disappeared.
When my principal investigator (PI) grant was approved, I expected some form of onboarding, or at least to be given a checklist of procedures I ought to follow. Instead, I felt like the founder of a start-up. I had to work out how to manage project finances, buy equipment, hire students, organize lab space and handle bureaucracy — all while beginning to supervise theses and writing more grant applications. Assistant professors are also typically expected to begin teaching immediately, and I was no exception, so I had to develop entire courses from scratch.
A couple of months in, I was talking to colleagues from across the faculty at an internal workshop on grant opportunities. There were many junior investigators at the session. Like me, they were trying to make sense of a system that did not seem to be designed with newcomers in mind.
We worked in different fields — biology, chemistry and geosciences — but realized that there were many challenges we shared. We had no clear career path: the Czech system lacks a formal tenure track, and researchers move from one fixed-term contract to the next, often tied to individual grants. Advancement depends on navigating the ‘habilitation’ process, a year-long bureaucratic hurdle required to earn the ‘docent’ degree, which involves demonstrating teaching and research competence, and defending a dissertation before a committee of senior academics.
Funding was another source of stress. Without follow-up grants, a junior investigator risks losing not only their research support, but also their position. There’s no bridge funding or coordinated effort to help early-career researchers grow into independent group leaders. In some departments, senior leaders help to fill these gaps, but it’s not something anyone can count on.
Finally, we all lacked formal mentorship, because most senior academics were unaware of the structural obstacles we faced. We had to work many things out for ourselves, and fast.
Creating a support network
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