My Graduation

In over six years of writing about the viva I don’t think I have ever posted about my PhD graduation.

The thought came to me a few months ago as, coincidentally, I was asked in a series of sessions about graduation: what happens, when does it happen, when can you call yourself “Doctor” and so on.

I realised that almost fifteen years later I have no memory of my graduation. I know that it happened but all I could find from that day was a single selfie I took.

A man, wearing academic graduation dress, mortar board hat, red and black robes, stood for a selfie photo with a paved area in the background
See, I really do have a PhD!

It’s not even a great photo!

My viva was in June, my final thesis was submitted in August and then graduation wasn’t until December. By that time I was knee-deep in figuring out how to run a business, helping researchers and looking ahead to Christmas. My viva? My PhD? I’d moved on months before. Graduation was probably fun for the ceremony of it, but I don’t remember anything about it now.

You’re not technically Doctor Someone until you’ve had the chance to graduate. But it’s possible that you’ll have done all your celebrating long before you get to that point. Certainly it won’t take crossing a stage or a piece of paper to make you feel your Doctor-ness.

Still, from someone who has no memory of graduation, writing to someone who may have this in their future: I kindly suggest you do something to mark the occasion. Maybe go out for a meal or find a way to share your final, final success with friends and family. Or if graduation is something you can’t attend, celebrate the confirmation of your success in some other way.

Do more than just pose for a selfie!

The Epiphany

My PhD was in an area of pure maths. Maths was the thing I was most interested in for many, many years. Looking back I can remember the day that maths became exciting for me.

It was a long time ago. I was nine, sat in Mr. Dodd’s class, and as a group we were reciting our times tables.

We got to “four times six is twenty-four” and I felt as though I had been struck by lightning. Twice actually, for in a split-second I first realised that four times six was the same as six times four – and then realised that two numbers always give the same result when you multiply them, regardless of what order you arrange them.

It was a small thing, but it felt like I had just found out a special secret. No-one else in my class seemed to care! To me it was magical: I wanted to know more about numbers, more about maths and what it could be used for.

 

When did you first connect with your research area or topic? Or even just the general field that you work in? What was the moment? Remind yourself. Towards the end of a PhD it’s not uncommon to become tired, stressed or in some way down about everything you’re doing (and everything still to do).

Look for the epiphany in your story. Look for the moments that set you on your path. Remind yourself of why you’re doing this – and perhaps reflect on what has kept you going. Use that to help you through the final stages.

My Story

Where do I begin?

Do I start with my teenage dreams of being a teacher? How I left those behind when my father died? Or do I start with telling you about my undergraduate degree in maths and philosophy?

How much should I tell you of my Masters, or why I didn’t continue working with my first supervisor from there?

When I talk about my PhD, should I tell you about the big results from my thesis? And if I do, do I leave out the miserable months of my second year when I could seem to make no headway? Should I tell you that those miserable months returned in my third year too?

What are the lessons that stand out? What are the moments I should share? What are the details that you need from me?

How did I get here? It depends on the audience. It depends on my mood. It depends on the story.

And in some ways it doesn’t matter at all.

 

A PhD story – or a viva story – can be useful. Listening to someone else’s journey is valuable; trying to tease out nuggets of experience and insight can be really helpful in finding things to try for oneself.

Far more useful though is the story you tell yourself about yourself.

I told myself I was lucky during my PhD, and it made me feel that I hadn’t worked for what I had.

Afterwards, I realised one day that I was fortunate – and that change of word helped me realise the work I had done, the skillset I had built and the confidence I could base on it.

My story? It’s good. It’s true. It’s changed over the years and stayed true.

What’s your story? Get it right, and it’ll help you through the end of your PhD, through your viva and beyond.

How Did You Get Here?

Recently, I was very happy to be invited to contribute my career story to the Sheffield v i s t a blog.

I like to reflect, and summarising ten years of work in a thousand words was an interesting challenge. It gave me a lot to think about: “How did this happen? How did I end up doing this?” The post for v i s t a was a really useful exercise for me, and I hope it’s interesting and useful for lots of other people who might read it too. Do drop me an email if you have any follow-up questions!

It reminded me of a quote I’ve shared on the blog before: “The man on the top of the mountain didn’t fall there.

If you’re coming to the end of your PhD, take a moment to look back.

Figure out how you got to where you are now. It didn’t happen by chance.

You’ve only got where you are by being good at what you do. You can keep doing that in the viva.