Editor's Note
We've concealed our subject's name and institution to protect their career, but we're fully confident in their professionalism and expertise.
What Does a State University Professor Actually Earn?
My salary for 850 hours of annual teaching load comes to about 6 million sum per month—roughly $480 USD. That's for a full-time position, which fewer and fewer of us manage to keep these days.
It used to be different. A substantial portion of our teaching load consisted of students' independent work: assigning projects, holding consultations, grading papers. Then they stopped paying us for that part of the job—work that was previously considered an essential component of the educational process. Overnight, my colleagues and I lost hundreds of paid hours per year, and with them, a significant chunk of our income.
For comparison, some private universities and foreign university branches operating in Uzbekistan require about 600 classroom hours annually for a full-time position, under far more manageable conditions. Meanwhile, our threshold has been raised to 800 hours, and virtually all of them must be spent in the classroom. Meeting this quota isn't easy, especially when course hours get divided among numerous instructors.
Here's the paradox: to receive our modest salary in full, state university professors are now forced to teach more hours than their colleagues at private institutions—while getting paid substantially less for it.
Who Got Hit Hardest by These Changes?
The new workload requirements were supposedly meant to improve efficiency, but in reality they slashed positions for many staff members. Full professors and experienced associate professors kept their full-time positions—they were guaranteed their 800 hours. But some associate professors with PhDs got knocked down to 0.75 positions, while younger faculty without degrees ended up at 0.75 or even 0.5.
Their salaries got cut in half: instead of the nominal 6 million on a full position, they're now making 3 million—though the actual workload hasn't decreased at all.
Our salaries were already low on full-time positions, and now many have gotten even smaller. Some colleagues, especially younger ones, are seriously considering leaving academia altogether. Some are hunting for jobs at private educational institutions, others are going abroad, and still others are changing careers entirely. Those who stay are forced to accept reduced salaries and either hope for extra hours—maybe adjunct work in other departments or branch campuses—or turn to private tutoring in their spare time.
What Else Are We Expected to Do Besides Teaching?
Another wrinkle in our work: the mountain of additional duties that don't count toward our workload and aren't compensated. We're often expected to be present at our workplace throughout the entire workday, even when there are no classes on the schedule. During these hours, a professor might be asked to prepare reports, translate documents, help organize conferences and "educational events."
These kinds of assignments have become routine: we design bulletin boards, write endless paperwork, supervise university functions.
It drains tremendous energy and time, but not a single one of these hours counts toward our teaching load. Technically, they're not supposed to rope us into duties outside our job description without pay, but in practice it's virtually impossible to refuse an assignment from management—that's asking for conflicts and problems. So we just agree and essentially work for free.
Why Do Professors Need PhDs?
In academic circles, an advanced degree has traditionally been viewed as a mark of qualification and provides career advantages. Formally, having a PhD or doctoral degree means not just prestige, but also a salary supplement and better chances of securing a full-time position. But these days there's a bitter joke making the rounds among faculty: "If you don't have a PhD, they'll show you the door soon enough—and if you do have one, there's no guarantee you earned it honestly."
The issue is that in recent years, defending a dissertation and obtaining a degree has become relatively easy if you've got money or patrons. For cash, you can hire "consultants" to write your academic work or even buy ready-made research. The result: plenty of PhD holders whose actual scholarly competence is questionable. This devalues the profession—a degree no longer always indicates high professionalism, yet it formally remains necessary for career advancement.
Still, the unspoken reality is stark: if you want to keep working at a university on a full-time basis, you'd better get yourself a degree. This situation demoralizes many young professors.
Instead of perfecting their teaching craft or engaging in genuine scholarship, people are looking for ways to obtain that coveted diploma as quickly as possible—sometimes at any cost. Ultimately, this damages both teaching quality and the level of research at the university.
What Motivates Me to Keep Teaching?
Despite all the difficulties I've listed, I still show up to work every morning. Why? I suppose because for me, teaching is a calling, not just a way to make money. Despite the bureaucracy, low pay, and burnout, there are things that bring genuine joy to the work.
For instance, when students stay after class to discuss the material, asking follow-up questions—that means they're genuinely interested, that my efforts aren't in vain. Or when graduates write to tell me that knowledge gained in my classes proved useful in their actual work or life—you can't measure things like that in money.
I'm motivated by love for my subject and the desire to share knowledge. Our university has talented students with burning eyes—for their sake, you want to try harder.
Beyond that, I treasure the spirit of the academic environment itself: you're constantly learning something new, interacting with talented people, with opportunities to engage in scholarship (even if on your own time). I won't hide a more mundane motivation—relative stability. A state university is a budget-funded institution; they can't just fire you on a whim, and the salary, though small, comes regularly. In our times, that certainty is worth something.
I want to believe that change for the better is possible. The teaching profession has always been respected in words—I'd like to live to see the day when it's properly compensated in deeds as well. I'm staying at my alma mater because I believe this: without experienced educators dedicated to their craft, we won't pull our education system out of crisis.