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Nathan

The Spark

Daily Post, Sabbatical

I’ve told this story before, but not, I think, on this blog. I share it to offer a short piece of a life, and to maybe spark reflection for you. I hope it entertains 🙂

I did an easy undergraduate degree, dominoed into a testing Masters, and before I knew it I was finishing my dissertation and wondering what to do next.

I was 22, nearly 23; I thought I knew so much about life and the world, but couldn’t make up my mind about doing a PhD. I had friends doing them in my department. They seemed to have it easy, but I was stressed out at the end of my Masters: almost stretched beyond my limits, so I decided to postpone deciding. I could always take a year out from studies and come back to it.

I started a small, safe job and started thinking.

Two weeks later I was missing maths, but still not convinced that a PhD would be right for me. Should I apply? Three or four years was a long time to invest in another degree. I might get funding, but what if I didn’t like it? I liked maths. I liked learning. I liked the department. I had friends there. I knew the way things worked, but what if…?

I was stuck.

By chance, one day over lunch, I got talking to an older person. A woman who had spent decades working as a missionary. She lived overseas fifty weeks of the year, and I happened to bump into her on one of her fourteen days visiting the UK. I don’t remember her name, just a little of what she did, but I have a lot to thank her for.

There were many, many good reasons I had carefully arranged into a pile that told me doing a PhD was a good idea, but it was her thoughts that sparked the decision to actually apply.

She told me of her work, how it helped people, the importance of mission. A life’s work. It was impressive. It was inspiring.

“And what are you doing young man? What are your plans?”

I told her of my new job as a study assistant, how I’d finished two degrees and loved learning, how I thought I might find something interesting in maths. Maybe I would be a lecturer after I’d learned more, or a teacher. I had ideas, but I was unsure which way to go. I told her this in the hope I would hear some wisdom.

Her response was not quite what I was expecting.

“What?! Another degree?! Wait. You’ve spent four years at university already, another committed to now for work, then maybe FOUR MORE for a PhD – that’s almost a decade at university!!! Oh! Oh! You’ll have no experience of the real world! What a waste!!!”

This, understandably, derailed our conversation. I made my excuses, left…

…and started my PhD application later that day.

The spark from her comments lit up all my reasons for doing a PhD and the fire caught. I realised, only when someone showed how strongly they disagreed with my ideas, just how strongly I was in favour of them.

“What a waste!!!” – but learning, discovering, hopefully making a contribution – that could never be a waste of time for me.

I knew for my viva that I had to be careful if asked about why I had started a PhD.

I chose my field because it sounded interesting. My supervisor and I chose the topic together because it suited my talents. I narrowed down my projects because I got results and built on them.

But I chose to do a PhD because an old lady told me it was going to be a waste of my time.

Why did you start your PhD? What were the reasons that pushed or nudged you? You don’t necessarily have to tell your examiners all of your reasons, but unpicking the threads of your own tale can help remind you of your beginnings – and how far you’ve come. What sparked your PhD journey?

 

Viva Survivors Summer Sabbatical: I’m taking July, August and September off from new writing to concentrate on other creative projects, so will be sharing a post from the archives every day throughout those months. Today’s post was originally published on May 24th 2020.

Nathan

Measuring Up

Daily Post

My wife found beautiful curtains in a local charity shop. They were a lovely pattern, they would look good alongside the colour of our living room walls and tone in with the furniture. They were clean and in great condition, and the shop was asking a very fair price for them.

She brought them home, and I leapt into action. Stepladders out, old curtains down, curtain hooks off, hooks on the new curtains and back up the stepladders to hang them.

And discover that the beautiful curtains were six inches too short for the length of our windows.

All of which is a fun little true story to say: find out as much as you can about realistic and relevant viva expectations before you take steps to get ready for your viva. Make sure that your understanding of the viva measures up to expectations – rather than have your actions fall short of what’s needed!

Nathan

The Red Button

Daily Post

There’s a knock at your door.

A courier leaves a package in your arms. It’s not heavy, but it has a strange heft to it. You don’t remember ordering anything. You’re not expecting something. But here it is, addressed to you.

Unwrapping the package reveals a small brown paper parcel and an envelope. The stationery and packaging are both of a good stock, clearly not from a supermarket shelf or high street stationer’s. The handwriting on the envelope is familiar, but you can’t place it.

For your viva, it reads.

You open the parcel first, cutting the string when the knot proves too tricky. Beneath several layers of paper you uncover a polished wooden box. It’s old, you can tell, but you’re not sure where in the world it might come from. You hold it in your cupped palms, the sides are smooth to the touch. There seems to be no lid or opening. It is a box though, not solid wood: the contents don’t shift much as you carefully move it in your hands, but you can tell that the weight is not uniform.

Resting in the curved top surface is a small recess and a red button.

Perplexed by the box you open the envelope. The note inside has a scrawl for a signature, but the contents are clear enough.

Friend. In case this helps with your preparations. What do you not want to be asked in your viva? Think carefully and press the red button, and you won’t be asked. But think carefully. Yours [illegible]

A hoax. A weird joke from a friend who knows your viva is weeks away. And yet…

What if?

No. It couldn’t be. This is a strange sort of gift. You wrap the parcel up and put it in a cupboard.

Two weeks later you take it out and stare at the box and the red button for an hour.

You make a decision.

 

If the box was real, and you could press the red button, what would you not want to be asked in your viva?

The box is not real! But if there’s a question you don’t want to be asked in your viva then you probably need to do something to rehearse for that situation.

Not wanting to be asked a question won’t remove the possibility. Practice and preparation will help just in case you should encounter that one question you really don’t want to be asked.

Nathan

The Spark

Daily Post

I’ve told this story before, but not, I think, on this blog. I share it to offer a short piece of a life, and to maybe spark reflection for you. I hope it entertains 🙂

I did an easy undergraduate degree, dominoed into a testing Masters, and before I knew it I was finishing my dissertation and wondering what to do next.

I was 22, nearly 23; I thought I knew so much about life and the world, but couldn’t make up my mind about doing a PhD. I had friends doing them in my department. They seemed to have it easy, but I was stressed out at the end of my Masters: almost stretched beyond my limits, so I decided to postpone deciding. I could always take a year out from studies and come back to it.

I started a small, safe job and started thinking.

Two weeks later I was missing maths, but still not convinced that a PhD would be right for me. Should I apply? Three or four years was a long time to invest in another degree. I might get funding, but what if I didn’t like it? I liked maths. I liked learning. I liked the department. I had friends there. I knew the way things worked, but what if…?

I was stuck.

By chance, one day over lunch, I got talking to an older person. A woman who had spent decades working as a missionary. She lived overseas fifty weeks of the year, and I happened to bump into her on one of her fourteen days visiting the UK. I don’t remember her name, just a little of what she did, but I have a lot to thank her for.

There were many, many good reasons I had carefully arranged into a pile that told me doing a PhD was a good idea, but it was her thoughts that sparked the decision to actually apply.

She told me of her work, how it helped people, the importance of mission. A life’s work. It was impressive. It was inspiring.

“And what are you doing young man? What are your plans?”

I told her of my new job as a study assistant, how I’d finished two degrees and loved learning, how I thought I might find something interesting in maths. Maybe I would be a lecturer after I’d learned more, or a teacher. I had ideas, but I was unsure which way to go. I told her this in the hope I would hear some wisdom.

Her response was not quite what I was expecting.

“What?! Another degree?! Wait. You’ve spent four years at university already, another committed to now for work, then maybe FOUR MORE for a PhD – that’s almost a decade at university!!! Oh! Oh! You’ll have no experience of the real world! What a waste!!!”

This, understandably, derailed our conversation. I made my excuses, left…

…and started my PhD application later that day.

The spark from her comments lit up all my reasons for doing a PhD and the fire caught. I realised, only when someone showed how strongly they disagreed with my ideas, just how strongly I was in favour of them.

“What a waste!!!” – but learning, discovering, hopefully making a contribution – that could never be a waste of time for me.

I knew for my viva that I had to be careful if asked about why I had started a PhD.

I chose my field because it sounded interesting. My supervisor and I chose the topic together because it suited my talents. I narrowed down my projects because I got results and built on them.

But I chose to do a PhD because an old lady told me it was going to be a waste of my time.

Why did you start your PhD? What were the reasons that pushed or nudged you? You don’t necessarily have to tell your examiners all of your reasons, but unpicking the threads of your own tale can help remind you of your beginnings – and how far you’ve come. What sparked your PhD journey?

Nathan

Two Reasons I Couldn’t Sleep

Daily Post

I couldn’t sleep the night before my viva because:

  1. I had no idea what my examiners were there to do, or what my viva might be like;
  2. I had little self-confidence in my ability to discuss or defend my research.

These are common problems for PhD candidates, and can be really stressing, though thankfully I’ve not met many people who’ve had insomnia the night before their viva!

I didn’t know why I was lying awake at the time, I wouldn’t have known what to do had I realised why I couldn’t sleep, but both problems have solutions.

The first is solved simply by asking and exploring. Check regulations, talk with academics about their approaches as examiners, talk with graduates about their experiences. Building a set of expectations for the viva is useful to shape how you think about it. Generally, vivas are fine, but you need to know more about them to really believe it.

The second problem has solutions, but they are not so quick. Building self-confidence takes time, but the rewards for time spent dramatically outweigh the investment. Of course, in preparation for your viva spend time reading your thesis, making notes, reading papers, having a mock viva and so on. All of these are necessary and can help with confidence. But what else will you do to confirm to yourself that you are an excellent researcher? That you are capable and accomplished? That you have done the work and have the talent to be at your viva?

It takes longer to solve the confidence problem, but every step you take will help.

Nathan

What’s Your Story?

Daily Post

If you have your thesis done and your viva coming up, it’s because you did the work and you developed yourself. Simple to say, but these things don’t just simply happen. What were the big moments along the way?

Everyone’s story is different. From my PhD, I remember…

  • …being six months into my PhD, sitting on a train, not even on my way to work, and suddenly the problem I had been considering snapped into focus. It was a small result at the time, but a meaningful one. It grew into a result that underpinned three chapters of my thesis.
  • …visiting Marseille for a two-week conference and summer school. It helped me present and share my research with others and was also a big boost to my confidence. It forced me to step out of my confidence zone.
  • …going to researcher development workshops, and then being invited to help on them. It helped me with presenting and thinking skills, it made me think about my talents more broadly, and it planted a seed that there was something interesting I might like to explore in the area of researcher development…

…which is how I ended up where I am!

Think back over the last few years. What are the big moments that have shaped and defined you? How did you get to where you are now? What stands out in your memory and why?

Nathan

Why Do You Do What You Do?

Daily Post

Asking why your research is valuable starts the work of exploring what your significant original contribution is.

Asking why you wanted to explore this area gets at a different but equally fascinating discussion: what’s your interest?

Everyone has their reasons for why they do what they do. Those reasons aren’t always near the surface though. Over time they can even become buried beneath the daily hard work involved in doing a doctorate. I loved the challenge of maths – it was intriguing, it was hard, it was puzzling – and by the end of my PhD I was starting to forget that. It took a little re-reading and exploring to uncover that again.

Whatever your situation, reflect on why you do what you do. What’s your interest? What fascinates you? Reflect on the big picture and on each chapter. Pick out what gets you excited and fascinated.

Your examiners will be happy to find a passionate, excited researcher in the viva.

Nathan

The Viva Is A Good Heist Movie

Daily Post

It really is! Like one of the George Clooney Ocean’s Eleven movies.

………

Let me explain:

  • You have heroes working to overcome an all-or-nothing challenge! (or at least that’s how it feels for the viva)
  • You have unexpected moments that have to be overcome as they happen! (where in the viva not every question can be anticipated)
  • You have talented protagonists with the attributes they need to succeed! (the only people taking part in the viva are highly talented candidates)

And finally you have the preparation. As much as there is satisfaction with the payoff from a heist or success in the viva, none of it would happen without the preparation. And no matter what you do to prepare for the viva, don’t forget all of the days spent doing research. They count. Those are your flashbacks. Those are the moments that add up to success.

So: the viva is a good heist movie.

Only with less casinos and criminality.

Nathan

Three Things Come Not Back

Daily Post

I remember my first lecture at university. Before Dr Gould started telling us about complex numbers he shared an old proverb he thought would help us as we started our degrees:

Three things come not back: the said word, the sped arrow and the missed opportunity.

He then urged us to make the most of our opportunities while we were at university, not to let things pass us by. I’m fond of this saying. It’s stuck with me for almost twenty years, and it resonates with me for viva advice too.

Think before you speak: pause before you answer a question. Make the most of your opportunities in the viva, both to show what you know and get ideas and insights from your examiners.

Thankfully there’s usually not any arrows flying around!

Nathan

Oppositeworld

Daily Post

FWOOOOOOSH-ZAP!

The portal opens between here and the antimatter universe!

Look here! We’ve found it. A small and unremarkable planet orbiting a cold yellow sun. Don’t be deceived. Many things are different in this strange and weird place, but some things are almost the same.

But not quite.

Let’s call this planet Oppositeworld.

The vivas in Oppositeworld are odd events. Candidates still do research for three or more years, but in the end have nothing firm to show for it. The viva takes place with a couple of examiners, but the candidate drives the process with questions. They want to know what examiners think, see what they’ve understood in the thesis.

Examiners regularly fail candidates for not asking enough questions, for not asking the right questions, for not asking perfect questions. The rules are arbitrary, almost without definition. You could surmise that this might make things very stressful, but since most people fail, they expect that they probably will too and so don’t feel too bad when that expectation is matched by their experience.

Preparation is discouraged. Taking a copy of your thesis is forbidden. Your examiners are mean and hyper-critical, your supervisors give you the cold shoulder and no-one can help in any way. The road to the viva in Oppositeworld is dark and dangerous and those who pass are held in even lower regard than those who don’t. Hushed tones accompany them for the rest of their days, “There’s that Dr… What did they do?”

FWAZOOOM!

The portal collapses and Oppositeworld is shrouded behind the quantum mists once more. Notice how strangely familiar it was. Even when things were different they were not so different as to be incomprehensible.

While you may not wish to visit Oppositeworld, remember that they might not wish to visit here too. They might not really understand us nor would they care to have a “proper” viva in our universe.

After all, why would they want to go towards a viva which most people pass but still find stressful and anxious in preparation? Why, we can imagine them asking, would they worry when so many people in that situation pass?

Why indeed.

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