When The Light Doesn’t Come On

About a week ago, first thing in the morning, I opened the fridge to get the milk to make the first cup of tea of the day.

The light in the fridge didn’t come on.

My brain performed a complicated dance of thoughts and feelings:

  • “Oh no, we have so much in the fridge and freezer that will be ruined!”
  • “We’ve had it for over seven years, so of course it’s out of warranty…”
  • “Wait, it’s the weekend! Where are we going to get a new one from?”
  • “Can we save any of the food? Will my mum have room in her freezer? Can we give some to neighbours?”
  • “A new one? What am I thinking jumping to that, can we afford to just buy a fridge-freezer?!”
  • “Ugh, I’ve not even had a cup of tea!!!”

And then a quiet part of my brain whispered… Check the button.

There’s a little button that is held in place by the fridge door when it’s closed. When it’s opened it pops out and the light comes on. I touched it and it popped out and the light came on. The fridge was fine.

The button had just stuck in place for a second. That’s all. No problem. No solution needed. No cause for panic.

 

“Problems” sometimes aren’t really problems, but our first instinct encountering a potentially difficult situation is to panic.

In the viva, an examiner asking a tricky question might not intend it to be hard. If they say they have a different opinion, they are not trying to ruin you. If you don’t know what to say to a question, or haven’t spotted a typo previously, or just go blank, there’s no need to panic. These are all situations that you can respond to in the viva, but they might not be problems at all.

If you’re asked a question in the viva and the light doesn’t come on, stop and check: is this a problem?

Traditions

December is a month of traditions. Celebrations, music, decorations, meals – some traditions form a backdrop of culture, while others are more homegrown.

  • “Our tree has been up for over a week. That’s how we’ve always done it.”
  • “Christmas dinner will involve turkey, that’s what we always have.”
  • “You can’t open any presents until you’ve had some breakfast, that’s just the way it is!”

You’ll have your own traditions: they might involve Christmas or not, family or friends, excess or restraint. And it might not always be possible to live up to those traditions or in some cases even exercise them. This year especially, people who feel strongly attached to “the way things are supposed to be” are liable to be disappointed if they don’t let go a little.

The viva is an exam of traditions. Regulations, university processes and common stories – these form a background for expectations, while departments and colleagues can show you a more local view.

  • “Vivas last around two hours. That’s what everyone says.”
  • “Expect them to ask a lot about your methods, all my friends were asked about them.”
  • “Your external will take the lead, they’re the expert after all, right?”

Your institution will have rules for the viva. Your discipline might have common expectations. Your department might have ideas – norms – which influence how vivas take place. They might feel comfortable or not, according to your preferences; in some cases you might be able to adapt them or adapt yourself to make them better for you. In the next year or so, you and your examiners might be disappointed that some parts of the viva will not be “the way things are supposed to be.”

December’s traditions are part of a background; you might have your own, but you have a reference point for interpreting others. The viva’s traditions, whatever they come to, will be something partly new to you. You’ve not had a viva before, and you’ll have to interpret the experiences of others to make sense of them.

(December and the viva have a strong tradition for celebration, keep that in mind and do what you can!)

The Map Is Not The Territory

Regulations can give you the general shape of the viva, the broad understanding of the process. Stories shape big expectations, and the stories of your friends and colleagues can help you see the norms, the common practices in your department.

This is the map of the viva landscape: it could have lots detail, but it’s only a representation. All of the regulations, expectations and norms that you understand – and it’s worth taking the time to find them out – won’t be able to tell you exactly what is going to happen in your viva.

You’ll only appreciate the territory, your viva, when you’re there, when it’s in front of you. There you’ll see the unique features, the slight changes, the parts that stand out to you that others didn’t mark or notice.

The map is not the territory, but the map is still useful. You can help update it after your viva. Once your viva is done, the corrections are in and you’re getting ready to move on to life after the PhD, find ways to share your own experiences to help someone else get a sense of what is ahead of them.

(another post inspired by The Great Mental Models by Shane Parrish!)

Time To Think

You had lots of time to think during your PhD. You had plenty during your prep. You have enough in the viva.

Your examiners want you to consider, ponder, debate, reflect, examine, muse, propose – to think! – and then respond.

This doesn’t mean long silences, longer vivas or almost-impossible questions. Just enough time to think about something important.

Take time in your viva. It’s there for you to use.

What Do You Believe?

Do you believe that vivas are scary, mysterious or to be feared?

Why? What has you concerned? What could you do to soften those concerns?

Do you believe your examiners are going to be harsh?

Why? What is it about them or about your thesis that makes you feel that? Do you have to accept that feeling, or could you do something about it?

Do you believe your viva is all determined by factors beyond your control?

Why? Wouldn’t it make more sense to reflect on why you’ve got to the viva stage of your PhD at all?

What do you believe about your viva and your PhD? What is helping you? What isn’t? It’s possible to reflect and change beliefs. Not always simply, not by pressing a button, flipping a switch or turning a dial towards something different. But consistent actions could help turn the dial a little, bit by bit, towards a more useful attitude.

Do you believe that you’ve got as far as you have by doing the work, becoming talented, becoming good enough?

If so, carry on. Keep going.

Casting Your Examiners

Finding your ideal examiners is, I think, like seeing someone who is perfect in a play. Someone with exactly the right qualities for the part.

You might have a highly specific list of requirements for your examiners. You might know exactly who you want them to be:

  • An expert?
  • Someone you’ve referenced?
  • Someone new to academia?
  • Someone experienced?
  • A famous name?
  • A professor?
  • Someone who could write you a reference in the future?

You could want some of these features or none, and you could be really certain on who you want…

…and not got them.

Your dream team might not be available. Or one of your examiners might pass. And your supervisor could have a different idea to you.

For most candidates there will be the option to suggest names or ideas, but your supervisor makes the decision. They will be the one to nominate, and after that potential examiners get to decide.

Yes, it’s useful to share ideas and propose names, but given that the choice is far out of your hands, it’s not worth investing all your energy into casting the perfect people to join you in the one-act semi-improvised play that is your viva.

After your examiners are chosen you can learn more about them if needed. Explore who they are and find useful ways to direct your preparation; but before submission, before selection, the most you can do is share a few ideas, have a conversation, then step back and focus on other things (like your thesis).

Most candidates won’t find their dream examiners. The viva will still work out fine.

The show must go on.

The Viva Is Not…

The viva is not a rite of passage.

The viva is not an academic ritual.

The viva is not a Q&A session.

The viva is not an interview.

The viva is not a mystery.

The viva is not trivial.

The viva is not impossible.

It’s an exam. A unique oral exam based on the particular research you’ve done. Given that it’s based on your work, you can prepare for it.

Given that there are regulations and a culture of examination, you can learn reasonable expectations and build those into your preparations too.

The viva is important, but the viva is not more important than your PhD.

The Control Room

You can’t control how long your viva will be. Or what question you’ll be asked first. Or what parts your examiners do or don’t like. Or how they express themselves or pose their questions to you.

You can’t control the flow of the viva. Knowing which questions commonly come up won’t mean you can control if they’ll be asked to you. You can’t control whether or not a response to a question will be satisfactory. You can’t control if your examiners agree with you on a methodological point. You can’t control whether or not they are going to ask that one question which you dread being asked.

But you can control how you prepare.

You can control what you do to get ready.

You can control how you start your viva day.

You can make choices to help lead you in the direction of confidence for your viva.

Exceptions

There are lots of general expectations for the viva. Common lengths. Typical structures. Regulations that determine process. But whatever the expectation, there are always exceptions:

  • Really short vivas or really long vivas.
  • Vivas with more than two examiners.
  • An examiner without a doctorate.
  • A viva that comes after a long period since submission.

And there are many more circumstances that either can’t be anticipated in advance of the viva, or are incredibly rare when they occur.

Exceptions are often worrying. They’re not part of the pattern, so there might not be a quick and simple response for what someone should do or how they should behave. Still, with a little thought there’s a way to find solid ground beneath the shifting sands of exceptions.

Look at the difference between the exception and the expectation (assuming it’s something you can know in advance).

How big is it? How can you measure that difference? What does it really mean?

For example, if you had three examiners, one more than “typical” – what would you really need to do differently to be ready?

  • Read a little of the research of the third examiner, as you would for the other two (it takes a little longer, so your prep needs a little more time).
  • Perhaps build your confidence at being part of an exam with more people.
  • Perhaps ask around on Twitter or in your department to see if others have had a similar experience (you won’t be the first!).
  • Reflect on how much of a difference it really makes, and see if there’s anything else you need to do.

Earlier this year, I panicked slightly at the thought of helping people prepare to have vivas over video: what strange new situations would people find themselves in? How could I help candidates with this big shift? What could I do, and what would they need to do???

It was a big shift, there were a lot of people suddenly needing to have the viva over Zoom or Meet or Skype – but they weren’t the first. It might have been their expectation to have their viva in a seminar room, but the rare exception of vivas taking place over video were already quite numerous. One question asked on Twitter lead to lots of generous responses that helped many people. Because whatever the expectations there are always exceptions.

Whatever your exceptional situation, however rare, you’re probably not the first. Ask your community, look for support and I’m pretty sure you’ll find what you need.

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