Kontakt | English

It’s a Mad, Mad World - The Secret Life of a Doctoral Candidate

Ulrike Freitag

 

My first attempt, although it started in the best possible manner, came to a crashing end only 4 months after I had the glorious idea of prolonging my leisurely-lived student life by writing a PhD.

 

So, first step: find a topic and a supervisor.

 

Professor at Mannheim University (looking at me in a very euphoric manner): „That’s a great topic and exactly in my field of research! Researching Russian symbolism in anglophone literature should make for a great thesis! I like your style of writing and belief that you’re a competent student. Let’s get to the paperwork immediately for you to get started.“

 

Me (also very euphoric): „I’m so glad to hear that! I think this will be a great opportunity for me and the topic is even affiliated with my master thesis; nothing can go wrong.“

 

A couple of weeks later, apparently everything had gone wrong. Having sent her a finished exposé via e-mail roughly 6 weeks after our initial conversation, I got an e-mail 2 months (!) later:

 

Professor: „Sorry, but I have to tell you that I don’t think you’re a competent student any more and also, your style of writing is not to my liking any more either. Bye!“

 

Me: „… (no words) … can we maybe discuss this in person?“

 

Apparently not. I never heard from her again. She did come up with a couple more sentences by mail but this is basically the short version of what she wanted to inform me about. Needless to say, my confidence in my academic capabilities came crashing down to zero. No explanation, just two very different and confusing… let’s call them conversations.

 

Change of scene: a couple of months later, after having let off some steam in the pubs and bars of Heidelberg, one drunken night I decided to try again and made the following promise to myself: that woman would not define the way I think of myself as an academic. I will write the most amazing PhD-thesis this university has ever seen and send it to her afterwards, just to make a point! (Disclaimer: I have somewhat lowered my expectations at this point to a more realistic end-product and also do not any longer intend to send my finished thesis to her.)

 

So, first step (again): find a topic and a supervisor. 
Okay then… This time, I went looking for a supervisor in my old department and eventually found someone whom, to all intents and purposes, I’m going to call here Ms. Perfect Supervisor (really not meant sarcastically at all). Having already taken classes with her during my master’s, I trusted her enough to have an open conversation about the possibility of doing a PhD under her supervision.

 

Professor: „I’ll be glad to supervise you as I already know your work from the seminar you took and a topic in American feminism is right up my alley. Be aware, however, that this will not be easy. There will be obstacles all along the way, you’ll have self-doubt and phases during which you will question everything. When (she determinedly said, not if) that happens, contact me immediately and we’ll have a proper chat about it over a nice cup of tea.“

 

Me: „Alrighty… Thank you for your trust in me and your support, I will get in touch if (I naively said, not when) I encounter problems at any point.“

 

I left her office slightly light-headed but happy nonetheless, thanks to the joy I felt by having my confidence boosted again, and went home immediately to get started on my exposé. The first attempt was, in no way whatsoever, any good. I knew that Ms. Perfect Supervisor knew that and so she told me in a resolute but friendly manner. Since I only wrote it to know whether the topic was heading in the right direction, which it was (as she assured me), I went home again, wrote a second go, a proper one and got accepted by the faculty a couple of months later without any difficulty.

 

I am now approaching the halfway point of writing my dissertation and, boy oh boy, there were problems already, and moments of despair, and moments when I thought to myself just what the f*** am I doing here exactly? What manic inspiration of mine made me think that I can actually write a dissertation? There were times when I was not able to write anything at all for weeks on end and I kept it hidden from my supervisor, ignoring all the help and advice she had offered me upfront, because I was still too afraid to face her in my current state.

 

Now, I believe that there are two kinds of supervisors when it comes to writing a PhD-thesis. The first type is the one that throws you off a cliff and leaves you all alone to fall until, at some point, you hit the bottom with a thesis in your hands and come crawling up the hill again to finally hand it in. I have heard friends complaining about the lack of interest and support by their supervisors before I even got started on my own project. And, of course, I have my own spectacular experience of ‚how-not-to-do-it‘ playing still very vividly in my mind.

 

But then there is the other type, the kind of supervisor that somehow knows when things drift off-course and write you an e-mail at what is seemingly most inconvenient moment: lying in bed on a Wednesday, in the early afternoon, watching Netflix with a glass of wine in your hand and a half-eaten bag of chips next to the pillow.

 

Professor: „Hey there, just checking in, haven’t heard much from you lately. How is the writing going? Could you send me a sample of what you have written by the end of the week for me to take a look at? Best wishes…“

 

Me: „… (suffering a minor heart attack) … oh sh**…“

 

This situation, to my slight disgrace, took place more or less as I’ve just described it. I did send her some ten pages, on which I had only spent four days, and of course they were trash. So there I was, hopelessly lost and invited by my supervisor to stop by her office to discuss my so-called writing sample… she was not amused at all. But, instead of biting my head off, which I would have understood perfectly well, she sat me down and asked what’s going on. I finally told her about how lost I feel with all the research I have been doing, and how overwhelming all of this is, and that I simply do not know where to start and how to sort things out. What followed was an hour-long, ridiculously productive conversation during which we made a structured plan for the upcoming weeks and also agreed on regular intervals for me to check in with her.

 

She had told me from the beginning that I can contact her whenever I have a problem, or get stuck, or get sick and cannot write, and I had promised myself to do that the minute something came up. Obviously, I did not. And I have a slight inkling that many students think like me and are simply afraid to admit that they need help in writing the best thesis the world has ever seen ( and we all, I believe, do lower our standards rather quickly). I am happy to report that, now, when halfway through my thesis, I have found my rhythm of writing and I know what I have to do to hand in my thesis at the end of next year, right on time. This conversation is only one of the many conversations I have had with my supervisor and she has been nothing but helpful (and thankfully patient) throughout the entire experience. Thus, the latest conversation we had in April via Zoom went like this:

 

Professor (smiling): „So, I looked through your latest writing sample that you sent and I think it’s good! You’re definitely on the right path, there are some points which you should look at again in more detail, but otherwise, keep on doing what you’re doing.“

 

Me (smiling): „Thanks a lot, I’m really happy to hear that. Your guidance has really helped me figure things out.“

 

Afterwards, we discussed our lives in this era of momentary lockdown and virus paranoia for twenty more minutes and said goodbye. As of today, I am happy to say that I have not been lying in bed watching Netflix while drinking wine in the early afternoon again. (Another disclaimer: I have simplified the conversations depicted here for reasons of space, obviously…please, do not hold it against me. Thanks.)