The Gaza Strip of Graduate School

HippieHusband has entered the Gaza strip of his PhD.

On Friday night we had our regular games evening (finally, I won a game!) at YoungEnthusiasticInvestigator's (YES) house. LookALike has now joined our group to make it five gamers. It was tons of fun as always. I find that YES has an great sense of humour and I always end up laughing my head off.

HippieHusband ended up ranting for a long time. This rant was quite different than any of his previous ones, a. it was a major portion of the evening and b. he was filled with fury not just angry and frustrated.

For me, at about the 8mths to a year mark of writing up the PhD I went through an incredible struggle. It was traumatizing. I don't get these people who "apparently" sail through grad school. Or the ones that actually struggle but then provide a revisionist history of the times during grad school. In these last 8-12 mths, you're in this headspace where you're ready to abandon the PhD, desperately you want out, but you literally can't do anything.

A friend of mine, TheBrit, once told me that PhD theses were never finished just abandoned. He's a wise wise man.

I think this state comes about because the dynamic of the supervisor-student relationship mirrors that of the parent-child. At this point during the relationship, as the student you are in adolescence. You hate your supervisor and you're trying to assert independence, but at the same time you want the supervisor to respect you as a scientist.

And so you enter the Gaza strip of the PhD.

Here at this critical juncture as the student is writing up, I like to think that for the most part, supervisors want to make the work the best they can. So it is also the point where as a student you receive the most criticism. My experience was that I got a fair amount of positive feedback at the beginning but then the words of encouragement waned. Some supervisors are not capable of positive words of encouragement. Instead, they bomb your ego with remarks like, "You can't write." and "I don't think you'll make a good scientist." What the supervisor doesn't realize (or maybe some do) is that every word you say matters and it matters big. After one conversation over the phone with my supervisor, I sobbed for hours.

In the case of HippieHusband, like many PhD students, he left before his PhD was complete. He left at a point that makes sense, ie all the data collection is done, the thesis has been completely written and all that was left is revisions. He left also because his partner, me, got a job. But really the reasons are irrelevant, because in our parent-child analogy, this is akin to running away from home. My friend LookALike told me her supervisor said to her if she left before defending that she would receive no support in any way shape or form. She would be cut-off.

Hence, the PhD student, with no leverage (much like the Palestinian citizens living there) fights back in desperation and anger. In the Gaza strip, all humanitarian aid is cut off. And the student stands alone and paralyzed.

To compound his anger and paralysis, HippieHusband feels betrayed by the system. This is because he knows that his chances at a job are limited given the economic meltdown. And the number of PhD students graduating from similar programs seems to grow exponentially every year increasing competition. It's this changed landscape that is part of the frustration. I think he feels many profs, who if they were to try and get jobs today with their CV's they had when they left graduate school, would not be able to. Timing is everything, HippieHusband.

This is where I think the difference between men and women arise. Because women are so poorly treated in our society, we come to be grateful for any little thing that we get. Whereas, in our society because men have so much privilege they come to expect the best. So women don't necessarily expect to have a job at the end of their PhD whereas men do. Hence his anger and frustration.

As friends and family watch their loved one's ego crumble under the airstrikes and ground fire, they try to intervene. Food and energy supplies are smuggled in from friends and family who send words of support, "Yes, you can do it." You're awesome." or "The work you've done is so incredibly cool." and finally with a hug "I love you."

Unfortunately, it is only the student alone, who can escape (albeit war-stricken) the turmoil. You have the strength to do it. Pick up your pen, find a quite space and then write your story.

And when you're done love, open the door, and don't look back as you walk towards your new home.