I officially started my PhD in early September, and this post has been germinating since then. This is the first of what I’m sure will be many self-indulgent, reflective posts on the PhD process… It’s more about processing my thoughts than anything else. So please, indulge me, or otherwise, feel free to move on to the next post in your feed reader!
The PhD – or at least, getting started with it – has been occupying a lot of my thinking time for most of the year. My intention was always to get started in the second half of the year, when my teaching load would be lighter, and when I hopefully would have settled into academic life. The middle of the year rolled around pretty fast…
It (the PhD) feels like an insurmountable challenge, I have to say, and that feeling has probably been heightened by my personal circumstances, and by the challenges of making the transition to academia. I love teaching, I love research, and I love being an academic, but it certainly is a different way of life, and I’m still working out the nuts and bolts of how to fit everything in. Now I’m adding a PhD into the mix. Alas, this is something I’ve always wanted to do, and while I’m maybe a couple of years ahead of when I thought I’d actually be doing it, and while other aspects of my life are in a bit of flux, I think the timing is still right.
No matter how right the timing, though, the insurmountable-ness of the whole thing is still the most dominant of all the feelings I’ve got about this beast.
Part of the issue (aside from the sheer size of this challenge) is that this is completely new territory for me. I’m going to be working in an area of information studies in which I have no background, with an unfamiliar methodology. This is not a comfortable space for me. I like to do well at things. All things. I don’t dislike making mistakes. I absolutely, wholeheartedly detest making them. I’m not the kind of person that wants to learn by making mistakes. And I certainly don’t want to learn by making mistakes publicly. I am fond of learning by doing, but I leave myself absolutely no room for error in the learning process. This is so fundamentally wrong that I’m rather ashamed to admit it here. It goes against everything that I preach (and believe) as an educator. I’m great at supporting others through the process of learning by doing, of overcoming and learning from mistakes. I just won’t support myself through it – I’m far more likely to beat myself up about it.
And there, friends, is my first PhD revelation: I need to get comfortable with being the newbie. I’m going to have to hand over work that’s not polished and perfect, or anywhere near complete, for my supervisors to give me feedback on. Shock! Horror! This is a girl who does not write in drafts; a girl that likes to get it right first time, every time. Those are unfair and unrealistic expectations to put on myself, especially when it comes to the PhD. And, they’re probably counter to the whole notion that this PhD thing is my research training. A very wise woman once said to me: “If your PhD was the best piece of research you produced in your career, I’d be worried”. I paid that notion lip service for a while there. “Sure,” I thought, “it’s my training. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to be perfect at it.” Now that I’m actually reading, writing, thinking on this beast in earnest, I’ve realised that there’s about a million mistakes I could make along the way, and about a million things I have to learn. Perfection is not going to happen.
My second PhD revelation relates to the first, and I think it makes the first easier to deal with. I realised this not some pilgrimage I’m taking on my lonesome, in search of the holy grail at the end of the rainbow (or something). This is, in fact, one of the biggest collaborative endeavours I’ve been involved in. I think what triggered this realisation was my first supervisory meeting, in which I sat down with my supervisor and admitted to just how nebulous my thoughts were on my topic. We spent the rest of the meeting talking through ideas, and round and round in circles. But I walked away realising that I’m not supposed to have all of the answers, and that there are people who are invested in helping me find them.
My co-conspirators on the PhD journey are numerous. There’s obviously my supervisors, who are guiding me, providing advice, talking through my half-formed thoughts with me, collaborating with me on the development of ideas, facilitating connections with other researchers… But there’s also the broader research group I’m positioned in – the other research students, as well as other staff. On top of that, I’ve also got a couple of great PhD buddies – one who sits at the next desk, and one who is a couple of states away. These guys provide moral support, pats on the back and regular sanity checks, as well as sharing knowledge and readings and thoughts that are relevant to my PhD (and I hope the reverse is true!). I feel very grateful to have them both. (And I know this is starting to sound like an Oscars acceptance speech, but I’ve really got to acknowledge that my family and friends are co-conspirators, too. There’s certainly no way I’d be able to pull this off unless they were participating, too.)
It’s been quite liberating to realise this is not a solitary endeavour. It makes the whole thing seem a little more achievable – a little less like hard work, and a little more like fun. It takes the edge of the feeling that this thing is an insurmountable challenge (though it certainly doesn’t make that feeling disappear!).
So, I’ve found my training wheels, gotten a little more comfortable with the idea of wearing them (though still not completely comfortable), and a little more accustomed to the idea that a PhD is a collaborative thing. I’m not expected to be an expert, and I’m not in it alone. Revelatory stuff.
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