Reflecting on my first year in the museum field and the state it’s job market.

In the summer of 2022, I felt a bit lost. I had just graduated with a B.A. in History and wasn’t sure what came next. My original plan was to pursue a Ph.D., but I knew I wasn’t a strong enough candidate, especially at a time when the humanities were being steadily dismantled in since the 2008 financial crash and in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. I needed something that could hold me over for a few years, something that might give me direction.

For a brief period, I was expected to begin teaching third grade in the fall. But after learning about the unstable nature of working in a charter school — and realizing that I probably wasn’t cut out for elementary education, at least not yet — I backed out.

Frustration is the first emotion that hits when you’re uncertain, and it quickly snowballs into panic when your future feels like a blank slate. The nerves set in, and you start to imagine every worst-case scenario that could happen to someone who lacks a clear vision. As dramatic as it sounds, that panic eventually led me to an answer: museum studies.

Looking back, it was the best decision I could have made. But in the moment, pursuing a graduate degree in museum studies honestly felt like a way to buy time.

I saw it as a two-year commitment that would help me postpone making big life decisions. What I didn’t expect was how rewarding it would become. Now, I can say with near-total certainty that I’m glad I did it.

Earning a degree in Museum Studies opened up a whole new world, one that I’m proud to be part of. But I also know that’s not everyone’s experience.

The first gut punch came when I realized how low the pay is in this field, especially in those early jobs. That was followed by the sinking feeling of learning how difficult it is to land even an entry-level position, and how often people leave the field entirely due to burnout.

“It’s not about the money” is a phrase I heard over and over. I agree with it to a degree, but that didn’t make the reality any easier. After I graduated, I spent the entire summer hunched over my laptop, combing through every job board, post, and listing. I tailored each resume and wrote every cover letter like the words really mattered. What started as careful, intentional writing gradually turned into something that felt more like desperate pleading. Even part-time jobs with minimal hours were as competitive as full-time salaried positions.

Eventually, I got lucky. Yes, I worked hard, but in the museum job market, luck is no small factor.

Now, I find myself worried again. Not just for myself, but for my classmates, colleagues, and every professional in this field, whether they’re just starting out or have been around for years.

Government cuts to the humanities aren’t going away. If anything, they’re accelerating. It feels like they’re bulldozing the very federal structures we’ve relied on for decades. Jobs will vanish. Some museums may shut their doors for good.

It’s disheartening. But even in the face of all this, I still believe in the people I’ve met and worked with. They are incredibly skilled, passionate, and creative. I’ve learned so much from them (more than I can say). And because of that, I have hope. I’m confident we’ll make it through this.

I’m sure of it. 🙂