Progress has been made. A few days ago, I successfully passed my institute’s internal “half-time exam,” so to speak. It is not really an exam since there is no formal way to fail it, but it certainly does feel like an exam. The setup looks like this: You, as a PhD student, provide at least two paper drafts and an introductory chapter draft to a committee consisting of one external and one internal opponent, whose task is to offer critique and feedback on the texts. For two hours, there is a discussion on the work at hand, moderated by the PhD student’s advisors. At the end, committee and supervisors offer a perspective to the PhD student: Was it good? Was it bad? How does the timeline look? How much work is still left? Afterwards, return to normal.
It feels a bit weird. On the one hand, sure, I am indeed proud being able to check off this milestone of my PhD journey. But on the other hand, not much has changed. Or has it?
After having reflected on what has happened for a few days now, it feels as if the impact of this midterm exam is more subtle. No, there are no changes in the grand scheme of things. My dissertation plan still stands, the work is still en route, and the to-do lists have only slightly changed. But … it feels different.
I have this sensation of validation, of having received some official “stamp of approval,” a pat on the back, if you so will, from people far ahead of me in their careers. People whom I can trust that, if they say something is good, they are probably right. Before this “exam” situation, I had little bearings, few anchoring points to compare my progress to. Are my papers good? Are they even useful? And now, after knowing that people took time to carefully read the material, I am more at ease. Yes, my work has been validated.
There is a huge emotional difference between having no idea and knowing what is good and bad. This seminar has split my mental to-do list in two. Half of that list has vanished, with only the other half remaining (plus of course a bit more). All in all, it is a very subtle, almost unnoticeable change that happened since this seminar. Before, I was anxious. Now, I am (somewhat) content.
Of course, there is still work to do, and the thesis is far from over. But knowing that I am now on the final leg of the journey makes such a big difference. It makes a big difference that I now know what other scientists think is good, and what is bad. Because let’s be realistic: The real way of science is you doing some research and then letting your peers check on it. There is no universal “This is good science” categorization-machine, only our peers. So whether I do good research depends a lot on what my field thinks is good. And there is no field manual, only the interaction.
This is one thing I have made far less use of in the past than I probably should have: Holding mini-presentations regularly in front of my work colleagues, gathering their feedback. Instead, for most of my PhD I was fully enmeshed in attempting to hit some “universal” mark of “good.” And since there is no such thing, these endeavors were in vain.
Over the past year, I have more and more come to the realization that what you actually learn during your PhD is much less about some hard facts. Only a small part of the learning experience of a PhD is the actual research. A much bigger part is experience that simply cannot be learned in some seminar. It is how to interact with other researchers; navigating the networks of your field; how to validate your work against the field; and a few more things that I have a vague feeling about, but cannot yet put into words. And there will be more things to learn.
I have the hunch that this is the primary reason why we just can’t fast-track dissertations. Because this learning takes time. It feels a bit akin to growing up – nobody can skip the growing pains, having to learn to walk, and learning to read and write. Once you’re done, it feels great, but the way is paved with problems. A PhD seems similar: Everyone will make it – eventually – but it takes time. Some learn to walk faster, some slower. Usually never in less than three years, often it takes more than five.
I am curious as to what is to come.
