Daily viva help for PhDs
…you’re talented.
…your thesis is done.
…you only have a little way to go.
…is not like your first year.
…you’re at the end of the journey.
…you’re able to think clearly.
…you have experience.
Whatever first year, second year, third year was like, now is not then. Now you’re on the final approach to being done. Now you’re the expert.
Now you can be ready for your viva.
You might be looking to appoint a couple of people to the position of “Viva Prep Helper-Outer”.
What do you need from others to help with your viva prep? What are you looking for?
Think about it and make a decision. Find out who is available. Think about what they know and what they can do.
Make it clear that it’s a low-paid job, but you might be able to manage the odd coffee by way of compensation. Essentially the position is somewhere between a coach and a consultant. You want questions, ideas, advice, encouragement and someone to listen.
You might need to take on more than one person.
Don’t be too demanding on anyone’s time, and remember to settle up with anyone who is a really big help.
Say thank you when your viva is done, and be ready to help someone in the future.
Outside of the usual typos and copyediting, my biggest corrections were to rewrite two chapters. They followed a similar flow, two case studies using a process I’d developed. My examiners were happy with the result, but not with how it was set out. It took me several weeks to re-arrange the model I had in my head. Thankfully, the second chapter was much easier to write once the first had been done.
Last year, sharing this story with a PhD candidate they asked, “So who was to blame? Your supervisor? They should have caught it, right?”
Wrong. My supervisor was responsible for giving me feedback, and he did. He told me that those chapters explained the process that I had developed, which they did.
“Well, your examiners then, they were just being harsh.”
No, they were doing their jobs. They fulfilled their roles perfectly. They asked for corrections to help make my thesis the best it could be.
I was to blame for my corrections…
…and the flipside of blame is responsibility.
I was responsible for writing my thesis, and I was responsible for ensuring it was the best it could be for submission. No-one else. The chapters needed something. I could have spotted that. I could have seen that my descriptions, while accurate, were missing a lot of the terminology and rigour that was appropriate. It was hidden in the background, when I needed to bring it front and centre.
Blame and responsibility are shadows of the same thing. It depends where you position yourself to look at the situation. You’re responsible for your corrections…
…and you’re to blame for how good your research is overall.
Let’s be clear: it’s unlikely that something will “go wrong” in your viva.
Unlikely doesn’t matter though if you’re really worried now.
Unlikely really doesn’t matter if it’s happening on the day.
So what do you do?
Whatever it is, there’s a process. Just stop first. Then see what’s next. A pause might be enough to make you feel like you’re making too much of the situation. It may not be as wrong as you think.
But again, let’s be clear: it’s unlikely that something will go wrong in your viva. It’s unlikely because your examiners are up to the job and following an established process.
It’s unlikely because you are ready by that point. Your research is done, your thesis is done and you are ready and up to the task of discussing your work.
My favourite notebook: a tiny Moleskine, 64 pages, each smaller than a typical postcard. Many years back I bought a dozen in a sale and I’ve been hooked ever since. I use them for special projects, which got me thinking…
If one little notebook was all you could use to make notes about your thesis and research in preparation for your viva, what would you make notes of? What would help you? What would you use the space for?
And you’d probably still have pages free.
Two thoughts come to mind. First, you get to decide what you need most in order to feel prepared for your viva; whatever good ideas or advice other people have, you’re the one who has to do the work. Turn this one little notebook idea over and see if it might work for you.
Second thought: you probably need fewer resources to get ready for the viva than you think.
I noticed recently that I used the word “caveat” two or three times during a workshop. It bothered me and on reflection I realised it was because I was assuming everyone in the room (typically a mix of people from all over the world) would know the meaning. They might get from context I was pointing out an exception to a point I had just made, but caveat is not a word used in everyday speech.
I’ve decided I’ll use it more sparingly from now on. “Exception” will do just fine.
Every academic discipline or field has jargon: the words which are part of the secret language of the area. Sometimes they’re a shorthand for clarity, but they only work if everyone understands the meaning. It’s not impossible to use jargon and misunderstand it yourself!
Be sure that you have a good grasp on the secret words of your field. Make sure your audience, examiners or otherwise, will understand you.
Make sure you know what the words mean.
You might not want to say it.
You might be able to think and discuss to get somewhere.
Or you might engage with a question and say something but realise you can’t say everything.
Perhaps there is something you don’t know or can’t know. Maybe it is something no-one knows.
Sometimes it’s the only thing you can say.
Pause and think before you say it. Be certain. Say why you don’t know if you can.
Before every Viva Survivor workshop I rewrite my running order, arrange my props just so, prepare my flipcharts and listen to a few tracks from the Hello, Dolly! soundtrack. The music is really happy, and some of the lyrics in particular resonate with me:
Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out
Strut down the street and have your picture took
Dressed like a dream your spirit seems to turn about
That Sunday shine is a certain sign that you feel as fine as you look!
I’m pretty confident about what I do because of the amount of experience that I have. But I use everything I can before every workshop to prime myself: all of my preparations, what I listen to, what I do and think about, all of it helps me.
Before your viva, you have a right to feel confident too. Your thesis hasn’t just appeared: you did it, you did the work and wrote your thesis and you can only do those things by being very talented at what you do. Do whatever you can on the day to prime yourself to be your best.
What will help you be at your best? Do you need to put on your Sunday clothes? What will make the difference for you?
I passed my viva ten years ago today. It sparked an interest for me that I didn’t know would become a passion and a vocation…
…but a lot of my viva is gone from my memory now. I remember bits and pieces; that’s to be expected I guess.
I remember not sleeping very much the night before.
I remember feeling nervous but not too nervous.
I remember feeling surprised that my examiners asked questions during my presentation.
I remember my internal using the phrase “proof by gravity” and wished I had thought of it.
I remember wondering if everyone stood for their vivas (they don’t – I’ve never met anyone else who has).
I don’t remember 90% of the questions I got.
I don’t remember 95% of the corrections I got.
I don’t remember why I wore a sweater for my viva which was in one of the hottest rooms in the maths building.
I don’t remember who the first person was that I told the result to.
I don’t remember seeing my supervisor afterwards, but he must have been around.
It was a long time ago and a lot has happened since then. My viva was important, but it’s not the most important thing I’ve ever done.
Your viva will be a milestone, but you have to put it in perspective. There’s a lot you’ve done and a lot you will do that will probably matter more.
I remember feeling happy afterwards. I hope you will too.
After nearly ten years since the end of my PhD, and countless times that my thesis has been in and out of the protective wrapper I keep it in, the gold letters on the spine are starting to gradually fade away.
Which got me thinking about the material in there. Is that disappearing too? How valuable is it now? Has it been superseded, extended, built on or ignored in favour of other things? I don’t know. I was a pure mathematician, and I think we like to think of ourselves as making permanent contributions to knowledge. Proof is proof!
Although I got there first, someone else could find something even more valuable. I’d be referenced (I hope) and my work would have served it’s purpose, but that’s that. Things change. Things move on.
How long will your accomplishments matter? How long until someone does something bigger, better or just different? It’s worth thinking about. It’s not self-defeating, it’s just honest. Help yourself define what your contribution really means. Why does it matter? And for how long?
And how might you frame that in the viva?
