Don’t Go For These Examiners

Examiners aren’t all equivalent. Some choices will be better than others – which means, naturally, that some are less desirable. For example:

  • The Egotist. Someone who just wants to talk about their work, how important they are, and make connections with what they’ve done.
  • The Pedant. Someone who can only see the flaws, the minor details that aren’t quite right, all at the expense of discussing what’s great in your research.
  • The Ignorant. An examiner who knows nothing at all about the kind of work you’ve done, who has no experience with your field.
  • The Unknown. A name on a page, a choice for reasons you don’t get, but a stranger to you and your supervisors.

There must be better choices for you. What criteria matter to you and your supervisor? What names do these preferences suggest?

Start with exploring your criteria before names are mentioned. See where they lead.

Steer discussion away from Egotists and Pedants, the Ignorant and the Unknown.

Certainties

There are lots of unknowns for the viva. Lots of maybes and probables and expectations-that-should-be-true. This leaves plenty of space for doubts. What if…? Maybe if this happens…? It’s not hard to see why PhD candidates get nervous and worried in anticipation of their vivas.

Thankfully, though, there are also many certainties for your viva:

  • You did the work.
  • You must be talented.
  • You know your research.
  • You wrote your thesis.
  • You know who your examiners are.
  • You can prepare.

And while expectations are only the most likely circumstances, you can get certainty from the overwhelming number of viva stories that describe them as being fine. Not perfect, but a challenge you can rise to – by this stage, that’s certain.

The Terrible, Terrible Silence

Silence, in almost any kind of meeting, is almost unbearable. Do you know what I mean? The gap in conversation invites tension, creates a shared awkwardness… Sometimes it can feel almost overwhelming.

I used to notice it a lot when I was standing in front of a seminar room. Often just before I started or whenever I would ask a question. Everyone waiting for someone to speak, but perhaps not wanting that person to be them.

And I know that people worry about it for their viva. What happens if you have to pause? What happens if you have to ask for a moment? What happens if someone doesn’t speak for a short time? – something likely to happen given the time it takes for signals to move around the world between different places!

The answer to all of these is that nothing bad happens.

Silence is a by-product of a necessary pause in things. A wait before we begin, a pause while you think, a moment while the signal comes back. Silence isn’t bad, it just feels bad.

The only way past it, I think, is to practise: have a mock viva, pause before you answer and get comfortable with the silence. Use whatever meeting software might be used for your remote viva and take time to get used to those little delays.

Sit with the silence, and see it for what it is. Not terrible, not bad, not somehow good: just one small part of the viva process.

Dobble and the Viva

Dobble is a simple-but-tricky card game. In our house it’s firm favourite for quick fun. A deck of circular cards covered with colourful symbols, the trick is that every card matches every other card in terms of one symbol: it’s kind of like snap, but where every card matches only one detail on every other. You have to be the first to spot the symbol to “snap”.

I love Dobble, despite the moments when my six-year-old daughter beats me.

(every game)

I mention it because it strikes me that Dobble cards are a lot like vivas: they’re structured, you know the general shape of them, there’s a pattern and a method to how they’re organised, and the details can be very similar.

But they’re always different, with no exceptions.

By studying a handful of Dobble cards you can’t divine some special thing to tell you about the card you’re about to draw, but it can give you something to think about. You can learn to expect things. This goes for vivas too: asking about your friends’ experiences or looking at the regulations won’t give you exact details for yours, but they can helpfully influence your expectations.

The repeated symbols you hear about in viva stories can give you a sense of what to expect when it’s time to play your own game.

Horses, Not Zebras

A few months ago I read a lovely little book called The Great Mental Models Volume 1: General Thinking Concepts – which is a long title for a quick read! Each chapter was a short discussion about different useful concepts, like thought experiments, thinking from first principles and so on.

In describing Occam’s Razor, the book introduced me to a wonderful phrase: “When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.”

This is a great reminder for PhD candidates and the viva: I’ve observed many candidates to believe that the smallest hoofbeat could only be a great big zebra! For example:

  • A typo doesn’t mean you’ve made lots of mistakes – it’s just a typo and can be corrected.
  • A passage in your thesis that doesn’t quite make sense; now you wonder how you’ll pass – you will, you just might need to rephrase or explain it.
  • The difficult question you struggle to respond to – is just a difficult question that is difficult to respond to! It’s not a sign of failure.

Problems at the viva are likely to be small. Issues you spot in prep will not be overwhelming. It’s far, far more likely that the problematic zebras you think you hear around the viva are nothing more than horses trotting by, here today and gone tomorrow.

Disagreeing With Your Supervisor

It’s possible your research went down a path you didn’t choose. Your supervisor insisted. You followed. Whatever that meant for your research, you still disagree with the approach or idea now.

OK.

…That’s it. You disagree. That’s OK. Disagreement by itself is not a problem.

Did it stop you doing your research? Did it remove possibilities? Did it help the research but was tricky to do? Was it a tough conversation?

What’s the real problem?

If there’s something to explain in your viva as a result, you might want to think carefully about the words you use. If there is bad feeling, think about how you express that if you want to – but who would that help? You can still say you disagree with something from the course of your research.

Explore and explain. If there was disagreement with your supervisor about something, it would be good to reflect before the viva so you have key points to reference if you need to talk about it.

Disagreement by itself is not a problem: the situation might be, but the disagreement itself is not.

OK?

When It Matters

Before your viva, for weeks or maybe months leading up, it might feel like the only thing that matters.

During your viva, perhaps it really is the only thing. You might forget everything else. You might genuinely be surprised or confused at how quickly time has passed while there.

And afterwards, there might be a brief spell where you think it was the peak. Maybe. But I have a hunch that the achievement will come to dominate more than the event.

I’ve been keeping thoughts of my viva as a little companion for a long time, but that’s because of work. In the twelve years since my viva I’ve done far bigger things. I’ve had much more important life events. I couldn’t be here today without going through my viva, but my viva doesn’t matter that much now.

Not as much as what I did during the course of my PhD, and not as much as what’s come after.

Perspective takes time, but trust me, if you’re finding any part of the time leading up to or around your viva tough, in future you will find some comfort.

Bubbles

You’re in a bubble of research.

There’s a clear sphere around the space you occupy that lets others look in, see what’s there. As with a lot of bubbles, there could be some distortion – from how you present it, from how they perceive it – but any sufficiently knowledgeable person can see in.

Like, say, your examiners.

Who are also in bubbles. Their bubbles might be bigger, they could be far away from yours – showing the distance between what you do and what they do – but they have them. And they’re reasonably clear bubbles like yours, open to inspection.

It’s essential you take a look before the viva. Read their recent publications. Check out their research interests to get a sense of what they do and how they might see things. Perfection and expertise are not essential: you just need to be aware.

In the viva your bubbles might collide, but not destructively. They’ll come into contact, and perhaps you can get a greater sense of how they see things. You may get idea for what you could do to improve your thesis, or look into in the future.

Bubbles don’t tend to burst in the viva – thankfully that’s where the metaphor falls apart!

Two Reasons I Couldn’t Sleep

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.

Remote Chances

Most vivas go well, but there’s always a chance that something could go wrong a little. With the move towards remote vivas, over Skype or Zoom, there’s that little extra room for doubt and worry that something might go wrong. Video vivas were less common, until now, and so there aren’t as many easy answers for what to do or how to solve something.

In the absence of general advice, whatever the worry or potential problem, there’s three questions that come to my mind:

  1. How can I reduce the likelihood or the impact? You might not be able to avoid something, but you could soften it somehow.
  2. What is Plan B? Say the tech fails, what could you have on standby? What’s your backup?
  3. Who could help? In the viva the answer might be no-one – and knowing that helps because you know you have to get it done. Before the viva there are lots of people who can help you – you have to think about who might be best to ask.

The chances of something going wrong are slim. A little bit of constructive thought, just in case, won’t hurt your preparation or confidence.

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