Book Review: A Bird, a Girl, and a Rescue

A Bird, a Girl, and a Rescue by J. A. Myhre

New Growth Press (2016); 128 pp.

I wasn't into adventure stories as a kid, but A Bird, a Girl, and a Rescue might well have been an exception. I certainly relished it at the age of 33!

While there's riveting action, the novel isn't limited to Kiisa's rescue expedition on behalf of an abducted classmate. Most of all, this is a story about character, trusting God, and growing up. Without being moralistic or heavy-handed, Kiisa models walking in obedience, even when the path is unclear—even when obedience isn't fun.

In brief, A Bird, a Girl, and a Rescue is the story (a creation of seasoned missionary J. A. Myhre) of eleven-year-old Kiisa as she begins studying at a culturally unfamiliar boarding school. In addition to loneliness, Kiisa must deal with bullies, being the girl on the boys' football (soccer) team, and the threat of rebel forces who have no scruples about terrorizing children. There are even appearances by talking animals (the Messengers) who accompany Kiisa on her journey. I admit, this latter detail almost discouraged me from reading the book—I don't always enjoy fantastical elements. But I thought the bird Njili was a clever addition to the story, rather than the distraction I'd expected. Even with Njili's encouragement, Kiisa still has to walk by faith and figure out her next steps for herself!

Aside from simply talented storytelling, what I admired most was Myhre’s ability to forge a setting that felt both familiar and very new. For instance, for all the parts of Kiisa's world that were unfamiliar to me, I could identify with her anxieties about fitting into a new community. This meant that the plot sucked me in from the first pages, and I think the same would be true for lots of kids.

While I'm not an expert on middle grades/young adult literature, I think this book would be enjoyed by many preteens, as well as those a little older or younger. It could also be a wonderful story for families to read and talk about together (indeed, given some of the frightening events, that might be a good idea for younger kids). By all means, enjoy this story for yourself, then pass it along to a niece or a kid at church. You'll both be edified as you see God at work among the Messengers and in Kiisa’s courageous heart.

The publisher provided me with a review copy of this book, and I was under no obligation to give a favorable review.

Choosing Academia: Some Cautionary Notes

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. 

 

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.)

-----

There are many posts and articles out there (and even entire blogs!) giving reasons not to attend graduate school. Some are well worth reading and taking under consideration, and I'll reiterate one or two similar points here. However, that's not the type of post I'm primarily interested in writing. Instead, I want to raise some questions I believe are worth asking, and cautions worth considering, before committing to grad school in general, or to any specific program or mentor.

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.)

--If you have struggled with depression and/or anxiety in the past, remember that grad school offers triggers aplenty. Get a support system in place from the very beginning, even if that simply means finding a general practitioner you trust. Try to take these steps before you'll need them, because when you're in the thicket of a depression, reaching out for those resources will feel like a monumental task. Please don't take it lightly -- a Ph.D. isn't worth wrecking your health. Even if you aren't especially susceptible to these things, learn to be comfortable asking for help and making a distinction between your academic success and your self-worth.

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.

--Has the department redesigned its program recently, or are they in the process of doing so? Ask questions and proceed with caution, especially if this has occurred multiple times in recent memory. (Over the course of six years in my program, the program was restructured numerous times depending on who was in charge. This meant that a student handbook was never completed, and things like exam reading lists were difficult to get one's hands on in a timely manner. It produced needless frustration and anxiety among students.) If a program is seeking to increase their profile among other programs, or if even a few faculty have this ambition, it becomes easier for struggling students to fall through the cracks.

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.

The Final "Dissertation Notes."

When I last updated about ten weeks ago, I was coming to grips with my advisor’s rejection of my dissertation drafts and the dilemma this presented. It was the beginning of a slow, stressful, at times surprisingly gracious process of figuring out what to do next—both what was possible and what I actually wanted.

To simplify the story: I felt it worthwhile to try to find common ground with my advisor, but we couldn’t come to an agreement about the way the past year or two have unfolded, much less the advisability (…in more than one sense) of my trying to forge ahead. I spoke with various people both inside and outside the department, trying to determine if there was a way around the impasse, but also just wanting others to hear what happened. (I’m aware of a couple instances of greater injustice my colleagues have experienced, and it doesn’t seem there’s been much help for them.) While I hope these conversations won’t prove entirely unfruitful, they didn’t yield a clear fix for my situation. This was largely what I had expected. While I could have gone through a review process that didn’t include my advisor, it became clear that this wouldn’t solve much, and that I was unlikely to receive much guidance toward finishing my dissertation, even if I somehow won approval to keep going. By March, it looked like my options were to withdraw from the program “voluntarily” or be dismissed. At the last minute, I asked if I could at least wrangle a Master’s degree out of the deal, which met with a surprisingly positive response, and let me avoid the pain of officially dropping out. So I am graduating, just not with the degree I wanted. It’s certainly a better outcome than I had come to expect, and I am grateful for that. Leaving with a diploma is so much better than walking away with nothing to show for my time at this university.

I am almost unbearably conflict-averse, so facing this ordeal was really, really difficult, even when parts of it were conducted over email. (Seriously, I've never felt so physically ill over hitting "Send" before.) A few years ago, I would likely have let myself be strung along indefinitely, or pushed out without a fight. I certainly don't think I would have asked for the Master's. So I hope my overall handling of the situation is itself a positive.

I do not want to suggest that I was faultless in the way this mess unfolded. There are numerous things I could have done differently and better, dating back to the spring of 2012. I’m also certain that, in his mind, my advisor did everything he reasonably could to support and motivate me toward finishing. I suspect it was a glaring mismatch from the beginning—something I couldn’t have known when I moved here to work with him in 2010. If I could have found a way to get a different advisor (something that faculty turnover made virtually impossible), things might have turned out very differently. There were unwise choices, as well as a series of unhelpful developments that just happen in graduate programs.

Not all of those were without unintended blessings. In 2014 a (different) department chair had made a unilateral decision, based on his classroom interactions with me, that I shouldn’t work as an adjunct instructor or even a Teaching Assistant. Regardless of the rightness or wrongness of his assessment, perhaps God used that disappointment to prepare me for later ones. At that point, I started detaching myself from the fantasy of becoming a college professor; I settled into my library job and didn’t really look back. So when it became clear that I wasn’t going to graduate with a Ph.D., it was easier to accept the closing of the door on one avenue of employment. It was even a bit of a relief—the academic job market is terrifying! Still, I might have made a good teacher, or learned to be one—will I ever have the opportunity to find out for sure?

Similarly, I probably won’t have the opportunity to publish a book in my favorite series of academic monographs, Oxford Studies in Historical Theology. Whatever my advisor’s estimation of my abilities, I think perhaps I could have done it. These are the kinds of things that are especially painful to reflect upon, and make me wonder if I will ever be able to think back on the failed dissertation and doctorate without sadness. It isn’t so much about the loss of the title and status of “Dr.”

Some of this ties into the way that graduate school and the academic vocation colonize your identity. I was always adamant that this would not happen to me, but it’s quite difficult to resist assimilation into that mindset, and to extricate yourself from it when it proves necessary. People have often lost jobs and/or changed careers by the time they are my age (multiple times, even). But somehow, after sinking your entire young adulthood into academics, you become convinced that it’s the only thing you can do, and you reach a point where it’s hard to say which is the more horrible prospect: prolonging the struggle in the slim hope of landing that teaching position, or breaking free into the unknown. The latter takes on an aspect of existential failure that is absurd on its face, yet so difficult to shake.

I can say that I am feeling more hopeful than bitter or ungrateful. The dream was to pursue a Ph.D., and I got to do that, and gain much in the process. It brought us to a life in St. Louis in which we are content. There are disquieting moments when I ponder that I am 33 years old, yet my sense of what I am truly good at, and what I genuinely like doing, is possibly more clouded than it was in my youth, not less. But I am trying to be thankful that I am not in charge of the bigger picture; and, in a way, it isn’t even my business how God will ultimately use me. It isn’t about finding an idealized “fit,” or even about me, but about God being glorified in my weakness and failures. And about serving him with thankfulness, even if it doesn’t measure up to the peculiarly overhyped notion of “doing what you love.”

This is not to suggest that I consistently wax philosophical about this. My emotions don’t always reflect what I think—or hope—is the truth of the situation. I’m still struggling with anxiety. But—the Lord is faithful. That means something real, even when it doesn’t feel like much. As my pastor Ben wrote to me awhile back, "Who knows how much satisfaction we'll get out of it in this life, but whatever we may say, we can know this: it will not have been futile.  He is putting futility in the grave and redeeming every last wincing effort on our parts. . . . If that's not true, then none of it is."

* * * 

I really enjoyed the weekly dissertation blogging last fall. I always looked forward to it and never found it a burden. From where I sit now, it’s difficult to imagine coming up with enough ideas to sustain a weekly blogging habit. It might be that this season of life just doesn’t lend itself to this particular medium. Still, I hadn’t imagined that writing about my dissertation would temporarily revive my blog, so I guess we will see. I appreciate everyone who took the time to follow along—I’m still kind of amazed that more than three people read those posts!

I do have some lingering thoughts about graduate school in general (what can I say . . . it's hard to let go!), so I will probably write those soon.

January 7 dissertation notes (week whatever).

The first full week of January is probably the low point of the year for me. After spending weeks anticipating Christmas break—an island of respite in the midst of the academic year—the stretch of restful family time is quickly past, and then there are no “islands” in sight for many months. Creaking back into routine can feel so dispiriting. The fact of it being a new year isn't particularly interesting or energizing. (I'm such an Eeyore.) But I’m thankful for the two weeks of peace I got. At the time of my last dissertation post, I was downright sick with the anxiety, but it subsided not long after, and it hasn’t reached the same pitch since then, even when I had to return to campus this Monday. Very thankful.

I don’t have a great deal to update you on, really. After the December 21 post, I did take some intentional space away from the whole question of finishing the Ph.D., and that was helpful. As the new semester gets underway, I’ve been talking with Kevin, and begun reaching out to a few people for counsel—both classmates and professors (not ones on my dissertation committee), and people who know me well outside of academia. I have been leaning a certain way, but Kevin agreed with me that talking through things with people won’t hurt, if only as a “sanity check” to make sure I’m asking the right kinds of hard questions, and not overlooking some obvious recourse that may be available to me. The common observations I’ve heard have been 1.) I’ve often been miserable, and the past three years have clearly taken a toll; 2.) It looks like I haven’t been advised very well, and it’s hard to see how that will change; and 3.) It’s a lot of hard work to walk away from. All of which I knew, of course, but it’s useful to hear what comes up consistently.

Anyway, I’m still in a sort of data-gathering/reflection mode, at least for the next week, and I don’t plan to post about all of that while it’s still in process. (Don’t worry, I am not going to drag out the decision indefinitely, if that were even possible.) In the meantime, I truly am glad to continue hearing from friends—it all helps, trust me.

Now for something a little different—have you guys read Just Do Something: A Liberating Approach to Finding God’s Will by Kevin DeYoung? It was actually in my queue of things to read soon, and it’s proven to be more apropos than anticipated. Heh. It’s a short little book, probably targeted to adults a bit younger than me, and it really packs a punch. DeYoung’s argument is that Christians of my generation tend to overspiritualize our decision-making, which makes following God more mysterious than it is meant to be. It isn’t God’s way to show us the future; he tells us over and over again that he wills for us to seek wisdom, becoming more Christlike as we walk in obedience. That’s what it looks like to be in God’s will. It’s not that God isn’t sovereign over all of our lives, but it doesn’t follow that we are supposed to agonize over what his specific plan might be—when facing an important life decision, we should study Scripture, pray, seek counsel, and feel free to choose one way or the other.

There’s more to it than that, but I suggest just reading it. I knew this stuff, more or less, but it’s surprisingly difficult to retrain the fretful old habits.

A Happier, Non-Dissertation Post.

I know I said I wasn’t planning to do dissertation blogging this week, and I’ve gone back and forth as to whether I felt like blogging anything at all. This is an introspective time of year, and there is, if anything, too much introspection in my life these days. A little break from that has been nice. And I’m never much for New Year’s sentimentality.

However, 2015 was a good year in our household, and I wanted to mention a couple of those positive things which have had nothing to do with my dissertation.

First, we were thrilled to be able to do some traveling earlier in the year, making it to California not once, but twice—first to visit family at the start of the year (the first time we’d seen my in-laws in almost three years), and later to Berkeley so that Kevin could receive his M.A. from the Graduate Theological Union.  It was our first time back in five years. 

I have often thought back on the Berkeley years as being remarkably difficult, dislocated ones, and while I don’t doubt the accuracy of those memories, I was surprised how many positive associations I felt . . . Looking at the familiar vendors along Telegraph, eating at Bongo Burger ( . . .possibly more than once), finally making the steep hike into the Hills to see the Rose Garden—something I’d wanted to do when we lived there, but probably wasn’t in good enough shape to manage at the time, or confident enough to venture on my own. That was an oddly triumphant moment for me. 

I suppose many of these feelings had to do with coming back a little different and a little older. Certainly our life doesn’t look the way I imagined it would back then—we didn’t guess, for instance, that Kevin would be walking for an M.A. instead of a Ph.D. after making a dramatic career switch—but I don’t think I would trade any of the experiences.

The other major development, of course, was our house—speaking of things I didn’t expect. I had hoped for a home of our own someday, but the possibility was hardly on my radar screen a year ago. We began looking at homes shortly after returning from Berkeley in mid-May (very much on a whim, initially), ultimately placed three different offers, and had an offer accepted on June 29. Not even six weeks later, we moved into our very own little place. Thanks to our wonderful realtors, as well as the surprisingly happy-go-lucky attitude with which we approached the thing, we enjoyed the process more often than not. We had been content in our city apartment (though we’d frankly outgrown it), and the house-hunting was marked by a vague sense of wonder at finding ourselves grown-up enough for such a step. I think the combination of those things helped us feel fairly peaceful about whatever happened. Even now, it all feels a bit dreamlike to me. 

I don’t think the decision to buy this house was a strongly emotional one for either of us. I didn’t have a feeling of its being The Right House—but once we moved in, it has become that more and more. I’m still surprised how happy it has made me.

Both these things were great blessings for us, and I hope that both—time with family and continuing to set up our home—will be major themes of 2016 as well.

If you’ll pardon a last bit of introspection—I reflected recently that so often, I pray for a deeper walk with God and an assurance of his presence; and yet, when he allows things in my life that force me to depend on him moment by moment (such as attacks of anxiety I can’t really control, or laughably minor aches and pains, or nagging unknowns about the future), I immediately beg for them to be taken away. Kind of ruefully funny at times, but a certain mark of the Fall all the same. Not that it’s wrong in itself to ask for His rescue—but I hope I won’t be so quick to overlook the opportunities the Lord gives to deepen my delight in Him, and not in my circumstances. He is so very gracious to do that, and to give comfort through the fellowship of His people, as I’ve found many times through this blog in recent months. Thank you guys, again, for your part in that.

December 21 dissertation notes (Week 17): Well . . . this happened.

My latest conference with my advisor didn’t go well—it went so poorly, in fact, that I didn’t want to face writing this update until January. I thought I was taking the outcome of the meeting in stride; then, the next day, I had some sudden and unmistakable anxiety symptoms (recurrent through the weekend) which made me realize I wasn’t fine. On Kevin’s urging, I am planning to set all this aside—to the extent that I can—and enjoy the Christmas break, giving me a chance to rest and clear my head before taking up the dilemma in earnest. However, I decided to go ahead and write the blog post, for two reasons. First, getting this in writing will actually help me to set it aside temporarily. If I don’t, fragments of this post will be chasing each other through my head for the next ten days, and I’ll become more anxious. The act of writing is a tangible relief and helps me transfer the worries to the backburner of my mind. Second, I wasn’t planning to do my regular Thursday blogging on Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve (as festive as that would be *cough*), and I simply didn’t want to wait for three weeks before getting this out there.

In my previous post, I was preparing to suggest that I revert to my earlier topic rather than scrapping it altogether, in the hope that I could power through the rest of the writing and still graduate in good time. After reviewing my existing material (around 110 pages), although I could see that it would take a lot of effort, I was reasonably hopeful that this plan could work. So I did propose it to my adviser, sending along all the writing I had done. However, when we met last Thursday, his assessment of my work was very different. He said that it is still unsatisfactory, lacking the conventions of doctoral-level research, and that he doesn’t see how a dissertation could emerge from what I have. At this point, his recommendation is that I voluntarily withdraw from the doctoral program. I don’t have to act on this immediately, but he wants to reconvene by mid-January to hear my thoughts on the situation. While he would be willing to listen to an impassioned case for staying put, he was clearly decided in his read of things, and I think it would take something tremendous to get him to reconsider. 

I can’t help feeling blindsided by this. Even though I’d been warned about running out of time before, I did not expect the option of dropping out to be raised until the end of spring semester, if my intended revisions went poorly. (Indeed, I’d said as much—that if I couldn’t pull it together over the next few months, I’d be prepared to move on with my life.) My attitude was, “What’s another four months? I’ll either finish a passable draft or I won’t.” But my adviser’s view is that my material is in too undeveloped a state to be reasonably finished within the next year. Therefore, another semester isn’t going to make much of a difference, and it would be kinder to put me out of my misery now.

He said that I’m clearly a gifted writer, but that it’s become increasingly clear that this type of writing and academic work is not what I was made to do. I think there is some truth in this—heck, just browse this blog, and you’ll find many posts in which I question my long-term suitedness for academia. As far back as 2012, I’ve wondered whether I have the passion to sustain a career in this field, given the toll of stress, and the fact that academia isn’t actually a haven for bookish nerds—the type of research and writing you’re required to do doesn’t generally lend itself to the joys of learning. Even so, I figured I would keep those vocational questions on the shelf—I was still capable of finishing the degree, and I could worry about the rest after that.

The problems with the dissertation are many, judging from the written summary of his comments. Most are things that have come up before: that my writing tends toward the descriptive instead of the analytical, there isn’t a clear flow of argument, my “argument” doesn’t teach the reader anything that isn’t patently obvious in the sources, the literary analysis (including in Greek) is not strong enough, it’s just too incomplete in general. Below I share some thoughts on the manifold ways I screwed up in the way I approached my writing. I think a lot of it comes down to my simply having no idea how to tackle a writing task on this scale, and not getting into a sufficiently steady, consistent research/write/revise cycle. It’s a whole different beast from the 25-page seminar papers I’d gotten down to an art form. I’ve always had a pretty clear picture of what I was trying to do with this project, but I can’t seem to execute it, and that’s something you can’t mask with delightful prose.

I won’t ask that you continue reading the second half of this post unless you’re interested, but the basic situation is: The department is giving me the chance to cut my losses, right when I’d reached a place of optimism about finishing well. I am not sure what it would take to convince my adviser that it’s worth giving me a last shot, but it would need to be unprecedentedly persuasive. And I am not sure what is the best way to respond, given that his critiques have some merit, and I don’t think I will find any support for writing the dissertation as I had envisioned it two years ago.

Further thoughts on how I got to this point:

I think a big fault of mine, besides getting a slow and stumbling start on the prospectus and dissertation itself, was my naiveté about what it was going to take. For example, I had a mistaken view of what was meant by submitting “polished” material. I took this to mean that I needed to circulate writing that was clean and coherent enough for others to read and offer feedback; I didn’t interpret it as needing to have finished sections of my dissertation, but I think that’s what was wanted. 

I think this explains why I was mystified by some of the critiques I got—it isn’t that I even substantially disagreed with them (e.g., this terminology needs to be clarified; there needs to be more engagement with other scholarship; there’s too little explanation of Gregory’s context here, etc.); it’s that I assumed it was obvious those things would make it into the final product, and I assumed it was obvious to readers, too. So where my professor was seeing a somewhat messy and unevenly developed section and pointing out, with some alarm, all that was missing, I was thinking, “Why waste time pointing out obvious things? I’m a fifth-year candidate in Historical Theology; I know that stuff needs to be added. But this is a draft! Of course stuff is missing.” Looking back, it seems clear that I should have submitted more completed sections, because why bother taking the time to critique one another’s writing otherwise? But I guess I looked at the quarterly dissertation workshops more as checkpoints, making sure we had hard deadlines for page counts, and didn’t take the fullest advantage of them by submitting substantially completed excerpts that could be more usefully critiqued.

This also relates to what I mentioned last time, about my drafting process. Since the spring of 2014, my strategy for completing the dissertation has been “Words on Paper”—i.e., just get my ideas down, even though this initial layer will need lots of cutting and revision, and worry in subsequent rounds (layers two and three) about shaping the whole thing into a concise, scholarly narrative. This seems to have been a serious mistake. Because my initial round of drafting is relatively bare bones, it provoked the kinds of critiques described above, which led to my getting stalled on layers one and two while my adviser urged me to rethink the entire project, since it appeared that I wasn’t getting far enough or deep enough with my topic. I took for granted that we were on the same page about what I was arguing—after all, my prospectus had gotten approved before I started the dissertation.  But you can’t assume such things, even in a draft—you need to make the connections explicit each step of the way, rather than leaving them implied.

What I should have done from the beginning was to take my first workshopped draft and revise it immediately and thoroughly, addressing every detail of every critique I was given, and submit the polished re-write, rather than moving on to the next section of the dissertation and hoping that next time, my adviser would “get it.” Seems pretty clear, right? It should have been as simple as that. Then, we might have skipped some of these headaches altogether, and I might have avoided some methodological roadblocks for myself later on. But in the midst of things, it wasn’t obvious to me why my process wasn’t serving me well, and why my perception of my progress was different from my adviser’s.

Instead, it just felt like I couldn’t do anything right: When my first submission in 2014 didn’t contain enough analysis of Gregory’s texts, I devoted the next submission to explicating his texts. When told that that section wasn’t sufficiently grounded in the historical context, I decided to write the next section connecting Gregory’s theology of preaching to contemporary debates on the Holy Spirit—and then got the response, “Why are you changing your argument?” I was so confused and frustrated, because I thought it was patently obvious that I was providing background and context for Gregory’s ideas about preaching, as I’d been asked to do—not changing my topic. But, again, I seemed to habitually assume clarity where connections were not explicit.

I don’t know if this is clear or not. It’s not that my writing hasn’t needed any critique; far from it—it’s that, apparently, I haven’t been taking the right steps to get the level of critique I really need. And there seem to have been serious disconnects at every step. (I should add that some of my peers/colleagues did seem to understand my argument and its significance, so I don’t think my writing was so enigmatic and opaque…)

There have also been many issues with the advising process that would be inappropriate to get into here, and that made each step of the dissertation harder than it needed to be. As some of these emerged, I tried reaching out for guidance, but most of my attempts at advocating for myself have not gotten me far. I’m not sure why this is, except that what felt like bold steps to me might have come across as too discreet and self-deprecating to others (though I find this slightly hard to believe). At one point, when I expressed that something needed to be addressed in order to move forward successfully, I got a response thanking me for my “forthrightness and honesty,” and then . . . nothing. And when I’ve tried to push back against things that didn’t seem quite right, I’ve most often met with dismissal or exasperation, to the point that I’ve wondered if I’m simply crazy, or a squeaky wheel at best. In short, you might see why I don’t feel confident of having any recourse within the department.

Another thing that crosses my mind is the frequent, well-meant advice I’ve gotten, that the dissertation is simply a requirement for graduation, that “a good dissertation is a done dissertation,” because it’s probably the worst thing you’ll ever write and only two people will read it, etc. This is fair advice. It is legit. However, I think it only holds true insofar as that is the culture of the Ph.D. program in question. If the gatekeeper(s) want to see a better than crappy dissertation—something that can conceivably find publication with a respected academic press—then those typically helpful truisms go out the window.

That said, it might be that my dissertation is so bad that “crappy” isn’t even on the horizon yet. I don’t exactly have a clear perspective on things at this point.

In summary, as I see it:

• I still think I could pull through with a passable dissertation, given another semester or two.

• It probably won’t be possible with the same argument/topic I’ve tried to put forward for the past two years. To get my adviser on board, I’d need to present it in a fresh way, and that has never been successful before. I’ve spent most of 2015 trying.  

• I’d need to find and implement a much cleaner, more efficient process for getting the dissertation written.

• Either way, just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s the best investment of my time and energy at this point.

• I’m really tired, my intellectual and vocational confidence are in tatters, and nothing about this has been fun.

So, I really don’t know what to do. But thank you for reading this far (and for all the support up to now), and I’d appreciate prayers for peace of mind over the next few weeks, as much as anything else.