Too many viva fears are rooted in the mistaken belief that examiners are somehow the enemy. I’ve written before about what examiners aren’t, but what are they?
Examiners Are Human: if they think you’re nervous, they’ll respond kindly. They know that anxiety is about the importance of the day.
Examiners Are (usually) PhDs: your examiners know what the viva means. They know what matters, and they have an idea of the work you must have put in to get to that day.
Examiners Are Interested: you’re the only person in that room who has to be there. Examiners are asked and can say no – if they’re doing it, it’s because they’re interested.
That last point gets forgotten sometimes. Your examiners are academics interested in your work. They’ll be ready for your viva. They’ll read your thesis carefully, weigh it up, and come with questions in mind.
Twice recently I’ve been asked, “Is it possible to submit a perfect thesis but then fail your viva?” I’ve written about the impossibility of the perfect thesis in the past, so let’s modify it slightly: can you fail if your thesis is really good?
I wouldn’t say it’s impossible, but it’s got to be highly unlikely. Right? How do you submit a really good thesis? Only by doing really good research. You have to have built up a talent for asking and answering questions. You have to have built up a talent for doing practical research in your field. Even if you don’t like being in situations like you imagine the viva to be, you’re going to be able to meet the challenge.
Can you fail if your thesis is really good?
This question comes out of worry, anxiety and fear. Find the root concern and you can address the problem. Worried that you’re treading on an examiner’s research? Find out more about it, so that you know more. Anxious that your mind will go blank? Read your thesis carefully and make summaries to help you think it through. Afraid your examiners will have harsh comments? Ask friends about the tone of their vivas to reassure yourself.
It’s understandable to be worried. Find the cause and think about how to address it. Do that, and the question will disappear.
Candidates joke about these terms to describe the viva, but I think the joke masks real fears. They worry that examiners will come in and speak harshly, treat them or their thesis with a lack of respect. They worry that they will come in with an agenda, a pre-determined outcome based on “the right way” to do research.
I can’t say this never happens. I can say that I’ve not heard of many viva experiences that match this fear. I’ve spoken to a lot of people about their vivas, and it’s not come up much. Talk to people from your field about their viva experiences. You’ll find that there are ways that examiners generally behave. They’ve generally prepared well, read your thesis carefully and have fair questions in mind to drive a discussion.
Listen to stories and get it settled in your head: if your examiners disagree with an idea, a method, a conclusion, they will treat you with respect and they will be open to your explanations. They’re not interrogators or inquisitors.
If you’re doing a PhD, the viva is coming. It will happen. It is all about your work, your ideas and what they all mean. The viva reveals things, to your examiners and to you. Your examiners have read your thesis and are exploring something new to them; they’re exploring it with you, the researcher who did it.
However you feel now, today, there’s time to get ready. If your viva is two years away, you have time to explore good examiners. If your viva is tomorrow, you have time to make quick summaries or use questions to unpick your argument. If your submission is six months away you have time to review your thesis structure and explore if there’s any way to improve it. If you submitted a month ago, have time to carefully read your thesis.
Doing a PhD? Your viva is inevitable. But you can be ready when you reach that day. You have time.
One of my heroes, Seth Godin, describes in one of his books why people struggle when they learn to juggle. Wannabe jugglers focus so much on trying to catch balls that they don’t throw them enough. They want the catch to be perfect so they hesitate. The secret, as he shares it, is that you need to throw the ball a lot more and not worry about a perfect catch. Better to start the action first before worrying about how you’ll complete it. Seth’s really talking about projects, and fear, and hesitating before making something good. Every project is throwing the ball from right hand to left, a chance to do something well.
PhDs unfold over a long period of time. A PhD is like a big project, but it’s wrong to see it as a single throw of a ball. There’s so much more involved. Like juggling, you get good at doing the PhD by doing it. Reading more, writing more, doing more. Each step is a single throw. When you’re near submission or the viva you’ve caught the ball a lot. You must have become good at doing your research. You must have become good at being a researcher.
The viva is a big deal. It’s normal to be nervous. If you’re feeling uncertain, reflect on your skills. Reflect on your progress. Reflect on what exists now that didn’t exist when you started your PhD. Your thesis didn’t just happen: you’ve made a lot of catches.
You need pressure to make diamonds. It’s cheesy, but maybe you need the pressure of viva questions to find certain insights. I’ve lost track of the number of times someone has told me that they found new ideas through talking to their examiners. Sometimes a new connection or way of explaining something.
Viva pressure can produce amazing results, but it can seem overwhelming, particularly as the day draws near. If you feel nervous or anxious, remember that you also need time to make diamonds. Viva questions might seem pressured sometimes, but you can take time to answer them. There is no need to rush to respond. Listen to the question, think about it, make a note: you don’t have to have the whole answer when you start to speak. Start, and see where the discussion goes.
One way viva processes differ around the UK is in terms of awards. These are the various outcomes. Often people think in terms of corrections: no corrections, minor corrections and major corrections. If your viva is coming up I would encourage you to check exactly what each of these means at your institution.
Some universities give three months for minor corrections; others, only four weeks. At some institutions major corrections is an acknowledgement that your thesis is on track but you have some substantial editing or rewriting to do; at others, you must formally resubmit your thesis and have a second viva. Check the outcomes before you go to the viva. Better to know all of the possibilities…
…and then temper them with facts. Most people get minor corrections. It’s likely you will too. They won’t be terrible, but they’ll still be work that needs doing. Sketch a plan now. How long would you have to complete them? What would you have to do in order to complete them in that timeframe given everything else you have going on?
Be realistic. Prepare to pass and prepare for that final burst of work to make your best thesis.
I think this is the best way to describe the places where most vivas happen. They might just be another seminar room in your department, but some universities have their own viva suites. You probably can’t control where it will be, but you will know in advance, and that can be really useful.
Any space you’re working in can have an impact on the quality of the work you do. The room your viva is in can have an impact on how you feel. But because you know the location in advance you can do something to help yourself.
Check the layout. Does it make a difference to you if you can see a clock in the room? If there is one, do you want to sit with your back to it? Check it there is a whiteboard, chalkboard or flipchart. Would you need one of these? Is there a window in the door? Would you sit with your back to that, so you don’t get distracted by passers-by?
Environments do have an effect on our confidence and performance. Explore your viva room ahead of time and see what you can do to make it the best space for you.
I have a hard time defining my job title. Sometimes I’m a freelance consultant, sometimes I’m a writer, sometimes I’m a skills trainer. I go back and forth on describing my Viva Survivor workshops as training. I share ideas and advice, explain what the viva is all about and help people to see that they have a lot of talents already. I want to help people feel as confident as possible for their viva. Some days I feel happy saying that the workshop is a skills training session, other days it doesn’t feel quite right.
Your institution probably provides a lot of training opportunities. They might book me to come in or provide their own sessions on viva prep, or they might not do something like that. Regardless of whether or not they provide viva training, look around for other sessions that could help you with finishing your PhD and preparing for the viva.
Look for workshops on presentation skills, confidence building, assertiveness – none of this is about the viva or viva prep, but all could help with it. Even if you’re three months from submission, if you feel it will help, see if there are any academic or thesis writing workshops. There will be valuable lessons you can learn from a half day session. The real value, of course, is when you make changes as a result.
See what’s on offer, see what you might learn and then think about the difference that could make.
In 2009 I went on a road trip across the USA. One day my friend and I saw a sign announcing, “PRAIRIE DOG TOWN!! See the world’s largest prairie dog!!” It was over one hundred miles away, and we laughed at something that seemed so silly.
Our feelings changed quickly.
Every few miles there was a different sign talking about the world’s largest prairie dog. Signs said we wouldn’t want to miss it. They counted down the miles. There would be a five-legged cow as well! And other animals: snakes, wolves and more.
The world’s largest prairie dog!
“How big could it be?” we thought. Prairie dogs are quite small normally… Could the world’s largest prairie dog be the size of a pig? Surely no bigger… Could it? Sign after sign told us it would be something amazing, something incredible. On the road to Prairie Dog Town we listened to the story. We built on it and built on it ourselves until…
Your humble author, for comparison…
…it’s a statue. And not even a particularly good one! For over one hundred miles we had amped ourselves up, read the signs, invested hours of conversation and discussion.
It was a statue!!!
Sigh…
There’s a set of persistent, conflicting, stories about the PhD viva:
It’s a big mystery.
It’s all about choosing the “right” examiners.
It’s supposed to be tough.
No-one fails, so don’t treat it seriously.
People do fail…and you might be one of them!
Is it any wonder that by the time of the viva, candidates don’t know which way is up? All they know is that it’s going to be a probably-survivable-but-maybe-not-all-that-good-event.
Stories are useful, but so are facts. With the viva people get swept up in the story about the event and forget their own story. What did you do to get to the viva? How did you do your research? What’s the beginning, middle and end of the journey so far? Whether it has felt easy or hard, whether it’s been rough or smooth, you got this far. You did this.
There was only one set of signs that lead my friend and I to the World’s Largest Prairie Dog. We went because we listened. There are lots of stories that swirl around the viva. Find the facts then listen to your story.
