I can’t access these funds until after

the conference, long after paying for

registration and flights. So, for the

past 3 months, I have been out a sig-

nificant chunk of cash. This is money

that I can’t really spare, as most of my

modest graduate stipend goes to day-

to-day necessities—including food,

housing, and utilities. I’ll submit

my reimbursement forms as soon as

possible once I get home. But I know

from experience that sometimes

payments are extremely delayed,

even after the forms are filed. All I

can do is hope the process will go

smoothly this time—and know that

I’ll have to advocate for myself and

micromanage every step if it doesn’t.

Still, I count myself luckier than

some. I can draw on savings I was

able to build up while I was in col-

lege. I attended a budget-conscious

institution in my home state, cob-

bled together scholarship funds to cover my tuition and

fees without help from my parents, lived in cheap apart-

ments, and worked multiple jobs so that I could save.

That means that these days, though sometimes I have to

get creative, I can generally make conference expenses

work. But I incur these expenses in a sometimes-scary bet

against the bank account I use to pay my rent and keep my

apartment warm.

Requiring students to ante up conference funds up front

without the hope of being reimbursed for months makes

academia less welcoming for scientists who are financially

disadvantaged. Yet universities and funding agencies seem

unwilling or unable to do much to change the system. Per-

haps changing the status quo requires too much work.

Maybe it’s not a priority because many students come

from privileged backgrounds that insulate them from the

issue. Students for whom this is a real problem may feel

ashamed to ask for help and be treated as an exception.

I’ve tried to work with adminis-

trators to find reasonable solutions,

but the results have been mixed

at best. Last summer, for example,

I had the opportunity to attend a

prestigious weeklong conference,

supported by a competitive grant.

But, as always, all funds were due up

front at registration. Assuming the

financial and psychological burden

of these expenses—thousands of

dollars—felt like more than I could

take on, especially after already put-

ting in substantial time and intellec-

tual effort to secure the grant.

After negotiating with adminis-

trators, I thought I came up with a

solution. The granting institution

set up an account with the hospital

that housed my lab so that I could

pay my expenses directly with the

funds I had been awarded. But when

I tried to register for the conference, I

hit an unexpected snag: All payments needed to be made by

credit card. I nearly cried. Embarrassingly, the balance due

exceeded my card’s limit. After some desperate emails, an

administrator agreed to extend the credit line on an existing

department card so that I could use it. But she made sure I

understood that this was not something they normally did

and that I shouldn’t make a habit of these types of requests.

As for my most recent conference expenses, I was re-

lieved to find out a few weeks ago that I’d receive a check

for my $500 travel grant on site at the conference. I prob-

ably won’t receive my reimbursement for the rest of the

conference expenses until April (assuming all goes well).

Until then, I’m gearing up to devote a significant amount

of mental energy to keeping a careful eye on my bank

account and credit cards. j

Jessica Sagers is a Ph.D. candidate at Harvard University.

Send your career story to [email protected].

“I incur these expenses in

a sometimes-scary bet

against [my] bank account.”

Waiting for reimbursement

I

t has been an exciting and productive conference. As a fifth-year Ph.D. student, I am less nervous

when I present my work than I used to be, and I finally feel I fit in as a scholar. But when my

abstract was accepted in the fall, I had to consider something completely unrelated to my science:

whether I could afford to go. Carefully, I did the math. Registration, fees, air travel, lodging, and

food would exceed $1000. My fellowship comes with $1200 that I can use for conference travel,

among other project-related expenses. On top of that, the conference granted my presentation a

$500 travel award. I should be able to cover the costs—eventually.

By Jessica Sagers

ILLUSTRATION: ROBERT NEUBECKER

sciencemag.org SCIENCE

WORKING LIFE

786 15 FEBRUARY 2019 • VOL 363 ISSUE 6428

Published by AAAS

on February 18, 2019^

http://science.sciencemag.org/

Downloaded from