I still remember the feeling. I had the PhD, the freshly printed business cards, and a new office with my name on the door. After years of grinding through my dissertation, I had finally arrived. I was officially an Assistant Professor. I thought I had the map, but I quickly realized I was navigating a new country without a guidebook — a country with its own culture, its own language, and its own set of unwritten rules.

This is the hidden curriculum of academia. It’s the intricate web of expectations, norms, and political subtleties that no one ever teaches you in graduate school. You’re handed the keys to your office, but no one hands you the manual for how the place actually works. Whether you’re a doctoral candidate about to hit the job market or a new faculty member trying to find your footing, this post is for you. Consider this the candid conversation I wish I’d had with a trusted mentor over coffee — a guide to navigating the beautiful, and sometimes baffling, world of Canadian academia.

The Currency of Collegiality

In graduate school, your world is your research. Your success is measured by your progress, your publications, and the originality of your ideas. But the moment you become a faculty member, the currency changes. Your research still matters immensely, but it’s no longer the only thing that does. Suddenly, collegiality becomes one of the most valuable assets you have.

In the collegial governance model that defines most Canadian universities, being a good colleague isn’t just about being pleasant in the hallways. It’s about being someone who contributes positively to the departmental culture. It’s about being reliable, collaborative, and willing to do your fair share of the less glamorous work that keeps a department running. At a smaller institution like Laurentian, where everyone knows everyone, your reputation for collegiality travels fast. It’s built in department meetings, on hiring committees, and in the informal chats that happen in the faculty lounge. It’s the invisible line item on your tenure and promotion file that can make all the difference.

• For the Doctoral Candidate: As you interview for jobs, pay attention to the departmental culture. Do people seem to genuinely like and respect each other? Ask questions about mentorship and collaborative opportunities. A supportive department is worth its weight in gold.
• For the New Professor: Find your allies. Identify the senior colleagues who are respected for their wisdom and kindness. Offer to help. And most importantly, listen more than you speak in your first year. You’re not just learning how to teach and research in a new context; you’re learning the local language of your department.

The SSHRC Game: Learning to Speak the Language of Funding

In the social sciences and humanities in Canada, the five letters that can define a career are S-S-H-R-C. The Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council is the gold standard for research funding in my discipline, and securing a SSHRC grant is a powerful signal of your scholarly legitimacy. If your work falls under the natural sciences or engineering, your agency is NSERC; if you are in health research, it is CIHR. The name changes, but the lesson is the same: no one is born knowing how to write a winning grant application. It is a learned skill, a genre of writing all its own — and the first thing every doctoral candidate and new faculty member should do is get to know their specific granting agency inside and out.

Graduate school teaches you how to write for your discipline. It doesn’t teach you how to write for a multi-disciplinary review committee or how to frame your research in terms of “knowledge mobilization.” This is where the hidden curriculum can feel the most frustrating. You’ll see senior colleagues who seem to effortlessly pull in grant after grant, and you’ll wonder what they know that you don’t.

The answer is that they’ve learned the language. They’ve served on review committees. They’ve had their own applications rejected and learned from the feedback. My advice? Don’t try to learn this language on your own. Seek out your university’s research office. Ask a senior colleague if they’d be willing to share a successful application. Frame it as a learning opportunity. You’re not asking for a handout; you’re asking for a lesson in a language you’re eager to learn.

The Double-Edged Sword of Service

In your first year, you’ll be asked to do a lot of things. You’ll be asked to join committees, to mentor students, and to speak on panels. And because you’re eager to be a good colleague, you’ll want to say yes. Be careful. Service is a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, it’s how you learn about your institution and build relationships. On the other, it can swallow you whole if you let it. The hard truth is that not all service is valued equally. The invisible labour of mentorship and the disproportionate requests that fall on women, Indigenous scholars, and faculty of colour are rarely given the same weight as a seat on the university’s budget committee. Learning to say no is one of the most critical skills you can develop, but let’s be honest: it’s a privilege. The skill can feel especially out of reach for those who already feel their position in the academy is precarious and who may feel pressure to say ‘yes’ to prove their worth.

So what does a thoughtful “no” sound like? It can be as simple as: “Thank you so much for thinking of me for this. It sounds like a valuable initiative. Unfortunately, my service commitments are at their maximum right now if I’m to protect my time for research and teaching preparation. It’s respectful, honest, and reinforces your priorities without closing doors.

Wearing Many Hats: The Small University Reality

This pressure on your time is often magnified if you’re at a smaller, comprehensive university. Here, the rhythm of academic life can be very different from what you experienced at a large, research-intensive institution. The old adage of “publish or perish” is still true, but it’s only part of the story. At a smaller university, you’re often expected to be a true generalist — to wear many hats at once.

You might teach a wider range of courses, from first-year introductory classes to specialized graduate seminars. You’ll likely have a heavier teaching and service load, which makes protecting your research time even more critical. And at an institution like Laurentian, with its bilingual and tricultural mandate, there are unique opportunities — and expectations — to engage with French-language and Indigenous scholarship and communities.

This isn’t a complaint; it’s a reality. And it can be one of the most rewarding aspects of working at a smaller university. You have the opportunity to make a real impact. But it requires a different kind of energy and a different set of priorities. It requires you to be exceptionally organized, to guard your research time fiercely, and to find joy in the variety of your work.

You Are Not Alone

Navigating the unwritten rules of academia can feel isolating, but you are not alone. Every single one of your senior colleagues was once a new professor, fumbling their way through their first year. They’ve all felt the sting of a grant rejection, the frustration of a committee meeting that goes nowhere, and the quiet anxiety of wondering if they’re doing it right.

The most important unwritten rule of all is this: it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to admit that you don’t know something. It’s okay to seek out mentorship and community. Find your people. Build your network of support. And remember that you have something valuable to contribute, not just through your research, but through the unique perspective and energy that you bring to your institution.

You’ve made it this far. You have the intelligence, the resilience, and the passion to succeed. Now, it’s just a matter of learning the local language. And the good news is, you’re a very quick study.

I’d love to hear from you. What’s one unwritten rule you’ve encountered in your own academic journey? Share your experience in the comments below — your story could be the guidebook someone else is searching for.

XOXO, Ivy

Enjoyed this? Stay tuned — next week we go deeper into the tenure game, publishing politics, and why burnout in academia is more common than anyone admits.