Imagine a scaffolding. It goes up, but also sideways. You can pause on one level, take a parallel path, step back before moving forward again. Multiple people navigate it at the same time, each following their own trajectory. Now contrast this with a ladder – one direction, one step at a time, no deviation. For most of the twentieth century, that ladder was the dominant metaphor for a career. The good news is: it isn’t anymore.

In academia, the ladder used to make sense. PhD students pursued their PhD with a relatively clear horizon: postdoc, assistant professor, associate professor, full professor. The path was linear and predictable. When I was a PhD student, I couldn’t project myself five or ten years into the future. I didn’t dream of becoming a professor, but I was ambitious – I wanted to climb, even if I couldn’t quite see what the ladder looked like.

It took me a decade to understand that the ladder had already been replaced – by a scaffolding.

The shift became tangible when I moved to a similar academic position at a different university. It was a sideways move – not a promotion or a demotion. Then came the launch of my own company alongside my academic role. Suddenly I had parallel professional paths, all converging toward the same broader mission but through different routes. Some days I move upward; other days I move sideways. One day I may even downshift one of my occupations. That’s the power of career scaffolding.

I find this metaphor both refreshing and comforting, particularly for early-career researchers. Many of the PhD students and postdocs I speak with put a lot of pressure on their next move. The questions are often the same: should I go into industry? Become a consultant? Stay in academia? Work for the government? What if I choose the wrong path? These questions carry real weight – but they also carry a false assumption: that there is a wrong path.

There is no wrong path. Early-career scientists are at the very beginning of their scaffolding. They have years, often decades, to build it out. The first position after a PhD or postdoc might be the start of a long linear progression – or it might simply be a pit-stop before the next sideways jump. I’ve seen colleagues spend twenty years in academia before moving to a company. I’ve seen others arrive in academia after long careers in the private sector. Everyone has their own trajectory.

What the scaffolding metaphor demands, though, is a tolerance for uncertainty that the ladder often didn’t require. When there was only one direction, the next step was obvious. Now, there are multiple opportunities – and that can feel overwhelming and stressful. But it also means a career can be tailored to who you are, not just to where you’re supposed to be. It can evolve as you evolve, shift as your priorities shift, and reflect the full complexity of a life.

You may not know what your scaffolding will look like in ten years. It may feel unsettling, but that also means it’s a space to explore. The options are genuinely open, the paths are many, and the beauty of scaffolding is that you can keep building it as you go.