Awkward prologue, because I don't feel like making it a separate post:
In recent weeks, I've been surprised by the grief I've felt over my student years coming to an end. Until now, I'd mostly focused on the relief of putting this fiasco behind me, not to mention enjoying our new puppy and attending to other life stuff. But a couple things have brought a pang of sadness.
In recent weeks, I've been surprised by the grief I've felt over my student years coming to an end. Until now, I'd mostly focused on the relief of putting this fiasco behind me, not to mention enjoying our new puppy and attending to other life stuff. But a couple things have brought a pang of sadness.
A student who has been here longer than I
have, someone I've considered a model grad student and one of the few
women to graduate recently, just successfully defended her dissertation.
I'm so pleased for her, and it has also reminded me how I used to
imagine my triumphant dissertation defense, the sense
of
camaraderie with my professors-turned-colleagues, and
the celebration with friends afterward. That picture
became less triumphant and celebratory as the years
went on, until I didn't really have a picture anymore.
I've also had coffee recently with a history
scholar who impressed me very much -- not only is she a professor, she's
also a young mom,
a rare female academic from my Reformed circles,
and involved with the founding of an interesting new
theological institute. (In other words, a rockstar in my eyes!) Talking
with her
reminded me of things I had hoped for myself -- which
reminded me, in turn, that I have no idea what my next steps are, what I
have to contribute. Generally
speaking, I am not anxious about this. However, that
doesn't mean I'm not still grieving . . . thinking
about how things might
have been different, if I had made different
choices and received different mentorship.
The two hardest things, I'm
realizing, are the relational aspect and the sense of
falling short of my potential. Far from a
sense of camaraderie, there's a sense that, with a
notable exception or two, my relationships with
faculty weren't what I thought they were. And then, the sense that I do
have a decent piece of historical scholarship in me, but I couldn't
bring it to fruition. I'd
still like to write it someday. I'm just not sure
when,
what about, or under whose guidance.
Anyway,
there's just a lot on my mind as graduation looms. (I don't plan on
attending commencement for my consolation Masters, for a number of
reasons.)
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Keep
in mind that my advice is colored by painful experiences that are quite
fresh, that I am only familiar with programs in the humanities fields,
and that things vary widely from program to program. It's always
important to gather a variety of input when considering a Ph.D. These
are simply things I wished I had known, or had taken more seriously, at
various points in my journey. (Note that I am glossing over major issues
such as funding and the job market, as discussion of these topics is
easy to find online.) All that said, here are several thoughts I've collected over the past few months.
Choosing Grad School
--It is hard for me to encourage anyone to enter
graduate school driven solely, or even primarily, by
love of their subject. Certainly, passion is
important, but "I could read theology for hours"
might not sustain you if other motives, like the
desire for an academic career, are flagging. Keep in
mind that, for most people, the demands of a
graduate program do not allow the time or
flexibility for leisurely absorption of books that
interest you. While graduate seminars can sometimes
be invigorating, they also involve a lot of
glorified book reports as you and your peers stumble
through classroom facilitation. Consider whether you
could read more deeply in your areas of interest on
your own. If the "guild" issues are important to you, you can always
purchase a scholarly journal subscription or two. I realize I sound
cynical about the value of a graduate education. I don't mean to suggest
that it's worthless -- only that the romanticized image of "the
intellectual life" ought to be laid to rest.
--Are you determined to teach on the university level? In many ways, this is the only
compelling reason to pursue a PhD.
--Are you good at seeking out mentors -- even to
the point of making a slight nuisance of yourself?
I had never struggled to connect with mentors in the past,
so I didn't realize this was a problem until rather late in the game.
The difference was that, at earlier stages of my education, I was
swimming in smaller ponds and drew mentors to myself with seemingly
little effort. I took it for granted that I would always find someone
who understood my goals, with whom I could communicate well. In grad
school, however, I never learned how to take the initiative to find that
person. It never occurred to me to drop by a professor's office unless I
was seriously struggling. So, I'm not a great person to advise on this,
except to suggest that you enter grad school with a networking mindset
instead of expecting to be taken under someone's wing. (This may have
something to do with the male-dominated environment of many programs. I
don't know.)
Choosing a Program (a.k.a. Departmental Politics)
--A cheerful campus visit doesn't necessarily tell you much about the culture/dynamics of a department. Consider that disaffected faculty or students may not be hanging around where you can see them. If a demoralized student must come to campus, trust me, she'll try to avoid the entire half of campus where she might run into colleagues and be forced to exchange academic pleasantries. (You can sometimes spot these individuals -- they're the thirty-somethings slinking shame-facedly across campus with tote bags full of overdue library books.) It's hard to suggest a way around this, except to encourage you to seek contact with students who have been in the program for several years; don't just have coffee with some starry-eyed first-years and assume you have a read of the campus climate. (More seasoned students are probably less plugged into campus activities and therefore less likely to be involved in outreach to prospective students.)
--Any department committed to placing graduates in jobs will give you opportunities to gain teaching skills. Will your department offer you work as a Teaching Assistant, at minimum? At whose discretion are these, and adjunct positions, assigned? Are there any invisible hoops you'll be expected to jump through, or people whose good opinion you'll need to secure, in order to get these assignments? Again, these are questions to raise with students who've reached Candidacy status.
Choosing an Advisor
--Picking an advisor can be so difficult, because your classroom interaction with a professor isn't necessarily the best indicator for how an advising relationship will go. Simply hearing them talk about their standards and expectations for the advising relationship isn't enough, because reality doesn't always match aspirations. The more relevant question is: do they have a track record of successful advising? Don't hesitate to ask a potential advisor up front how many dissertations they've advised to completion -- you have every right to know. Can you speak with some current and former advisees about their experiences? Remember that you can always ask a relatively untested faculty member to serve on your dissertation committee, and even work closely with them, without banking on him or her to be the gatekeeper for your future career. In general, be cautious about asking a freshly tenured faculty member to be your primary advisor, even (or especially?) if they're a rising star.
--Be very clear with your intended advisor about
such things as frequency of meetings, amount of written feedback to expect, and his or her availability over the summer.
--Encouragement is important. There is a well-known ex-academic blogger who writes something to the effect that you should avoid choosing the kindly advisor who remembers your birthday and bakes you cookies. There may be some truth to this, especially for the career-minded student in a ruthless market. However, an advisor should be a fundamentally decent human being with a teaspoon of empathy (e.g., he or she recognizes that there is life outside of academia), or it's probably not worth the suffering.
--Do you have at least two (TENURED) backup
possibilities in case something goes awry? One backup
in case advising goes poorly, another in case someone
retires abruptly, etc.?
--Are there procedures to follow if something goes
poorly with your advisor? Especially if your advisor
is someone you like and have enjoyed working with in the past, it's easy
to think, "That won't happen to me." Not to mention, this person is
probably a major reason you chose this Ph.D. program (i.e., you basically uprooted
your life for them). But consider having a conversation about what to do
if things aren't going well, and at what point to make that
determination (hint: earlier is better!). Though it will be awkward, your professor and department should be willing to let you switch to someone else, if it means the difference between your finishing or not.
--Even if your intended advisor says they don't want to give you a
topic, don't take that at face value -- they want you to
work on something that's interesting to them and
that's in their methodological wheelhouse. I suspect
that much can be forgiven or glossed over if you're
writing something they're personally invested in seeing published. Take
this into account when deciding who to work with.
--If your advisor was a "golden boy" (or girl) in graduate school and
is
relatively young in career, it's worth thinking about
whether they understand what it is like to struggle academically.
It's a bit galling to hear from a tenured, much-honored, up-and-coming professor that "You tried, there's no
shame in walking away," or "Sometimes it's the more
courageous thing to let go."
--Will your advisor be sufficiently invested in
your success to vouch for and support you if your
path to scholarship doesn't unfold in a traditional
way, or in the way they would prefer? Again, sadly,
this can be difficult to discern at the outset. Going back a couple of
years, I recall being asked
things like, "Is this what you really want to be
doing?" or "Does the thought of quitting bring
relief?" Not bad questions, in and of themselves, but
I now see how they helped to undermine my confidence
from an early stage. I don't recall hearing things
like, "This is a bit of a mess right now, but
you've put a lot of effort in, and we'd like to see
you graduate, so let's figure out how to make that
happen." Hearing something like that would have meant
a great deal to me and possibly been a turning point
toward graduating. I was actually a bit shocked when I heard that
advisors who say such things allegedly exist!
--To put it more succinctly: don't pick an advisor
who will make it their
business to decide if you belong in the field/on the
market or not.
Find out up front--will they do what they can to help
you finish your degree, even if your dissertation isn't Oxford
University Press material? Do they
recognize that not everyone wants the same things from
their academic experience and future career?
Again, so much of this is reflective of my own particular struggles and disappointments. Plenty of people have had dramatically different experiences. To sum it up, though: don't be idealistic about the dynamics you'll encounter in academia. Only you can decide if the Ph.D. is ultimately worth it to you.
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