A giant leap.

Lately, it feels like I'm making my own giant leap. I've spent the past decade building up academic credentials, doing all the things a scientist needs to do to land a faculty appointment. I've published frequently in good journals, more each year. I've landed competitive funding from respected sources and built a research program that involves postgraduates. I've taught several classes and mentored graduate students. Most of this has been rewarding. But in the overly busy mode that most researchers operate in, I found I was feeling less bullish about academia as I knew it and increasingly uncertain it was the right fit. I had the benefit of several mentors who encouraged me to explore other career options, and in 2013, I took a half-time appointment with a conservation-focused nonprofit as a scientist with an applied focus. I was tasked with supporting their conservation programs with the best available science, working across fields to bring together insights that could inform conservation practice. I was surprised to find I enjoyed this work much more than basic research. I could see findings being put to work, and the healthy debate about how to adapt research into practice was invigorating and challenging. I gained a new appreciation for the importance of moving research out of the ivory tower, and for the skills needed to engage in that translational role. Ironically, at about that time, my academic job searches finally started to yield fruit. I was invited for two faculty interviews , both at top-tier research universities. During one, I entered a pressure-cooker group interview, where faculty members lob hard questions at you while you try not to squirm. One of them asked me, " Jack, fast-forward 35 years. We are celebrating your career and accomplishments at your retirement party. What are we celebrating? " I gave a safe answer: " I made an impact on my field of scholarship. I trained some graduate students who have gone on to successful careers " and so on. First she nodded— but then she banged the table emphatically. " That's not good enough, " she said. She was right. In that split second of terror, I realized what my real bar for accomplishment was. It wasn't developing new theory, pioneering new methods, or getting research published in the best journals. I answered again: " You're right. The bar for me is that when my career is …