I'm doing this for myself
I read Bruce's post on a "good enough PhD" and it made me reflect on my own experience as a PhD student. Although an almost stranger shaped a lot of my path, I eventually reached the same conclusion as Bruce: I'm doing this for myself.
I have a lot of academic interests. What convinced me to pursue a specific field for graduate studies was a class that I took not until my third year, and largely due to the professor who taught the course. One day I worked up the courage to schedule a one-on-one meeting with him to request advice on my graduate school applications.
I still remember the day vividly: He, a god-like figure in his field, was sitting in his office so casually, sipping wine. A typical well established academic, I guess. To me it was like life or death. I knew it wasn't good to idealize another human being like this, but his influence really cannot be overstated.
The thing was that my GPA was abysmal for various reasons, and I knew it would hold me back. I was hoping that my performance in his course and my undergraduate research experience in one of his colleague's labs could help redeem myself, though I hadn't gotten my name on any publication either.
After I raised my concerns about my GPA, he didn't turn me down or say that all hope was lost. He asked me about my GRE score. (Yes, we all still had to take the GRE back then. And it carried some weight in the admissions process for some reason. This is by far the worst standardized test I have ever taken — twice! — in my entire life). My quantitative score, the one more important for programs in my field, was average. Nothing special. He confirmed that. I felt foolish as I sat there holding back my emotions. I was attending a great school but had nothing to show for it.
To my surprise, he didn't kick me out after that. He had every reason to do so though. He surely had dozens of other things he could have been doing, with his lab, teaching, start-up companies, and so on.
But he didn't.
Somehow I stayed composed and was able to intelligently express my interests within the field, which I think he appreciated. He named some people whose work might interest me and pointed me in the right directions. I thanked him.
He then asked me if I am a minority or have any sort of status that might help me in the admissions process. Well, I identify and present as a white woman, which is already quite privileged. Though I pointed out that I am a first-generation student. I also mentioned that I am an international adoptee.
Oh, from where?
I was a bit dumbfounded. I hadn't expected him to take any sort of personal interest in me. The question didn't come across as forced. Although my reaction is probably related to my own trauma surrounding that, I could still tell that he was genuinely interested in me. As a person, not just a number. And that probably went for the rest of those who not only worked for him but also those he encountered but could have easily forgotten. Like me.
I don't remember how much of his time I took. It could have been fifteen minutes or over an hour. At this point in the conversation, we still hadn't covered everything.
So, who will write your letters of recommendation?
I explained that I had two referees: the PI in whose lab I was working as well as the director of undergraduate studies in my department. I still needed a third.
I can write you a letter, he said.
I just about died on the spot. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected him to offer me a letter of recommendation. It's still one of the happiest moments of my life, if I'm being honest.
I thanked him and promised to send him one of my research posters as well as some snippets of my writings for his class.
And that's sort of how I catapulted myself into the field in which I am currently working. Unsurprisingly, I didn't fare well in the admissions process. Regardless, his letter undoubtedly made the difference for me, as I ended up working in one of his good friend's partner's labs. I was also waitlisted at the university where he earned his PhD. Radio silence from everyone else. But it didn't matter because I found a great fit. It takes only one. To express my gratitude, I nervously ventured to his office again and left a mug adorned with the mascot of my university of choice as well as a handwritten thank you note outside the door. I had to.
Clearly I continue to think about this guy who helped me. I never worked for him and took only one of his courses, but he left a stronger impression on me than any other professor in my major.
A couple of years ago, my current advisor and I were talking about letters of recommendation. For some reason they thought to mention mine even though some time had passed since I entered graduate school. They mentioned that this professor wrote an absolutely glowing recommendation for me, far better than my other referees who I thought knew me better. I still don't know what he wrote exactly; sometimes I wonder if he stretched the truth because he felt bad for me.
I'm 5.5 years into my PhD program and want to get out so badly. Like any doctoral student, I've been at my wit's end more often than I can count. I also wonder if I would have been happier pursuing graduate studies in a different field, as I feel alienated from science more than I'd like to admit. Sometimes I ask myself how I've stuck around this long, sacrificing not only time but money. It feels like being paid a crummy stipend to just hang out more than anything else.
But I've coped. Forgive me because this will all sound cliché, but in my earlier years of graduate school I tended to return to my heartwarming encounter with this professor. I truly didn't know if I would make it to even the third year of my program without remembering his support when I was down. I remember how I have felt for much of my time in higher education, unsupported with a good dose of imposter syndrome. I never believed in myself. I didn't think my parents or my friends did either, but for some reason he did.
More recently, things have been a bit different. I officially decided that I won't stay in academia, as I have developed my own skills and interests that don't suit professorship even though I believed that was what I wanted for a long time. So, I began to pivot myself. Like Bruce, I don't want to work in a lab anymore. Fortunately, a PhD will still be beneficial for what I want to do, so I don't regret spending this much time and energy on it.
Rather, I've thought more about why and for whom I have been doing my PhD. For a long time, maybe I was doing it for the one professor who truly believed in me when no one else did. Maybe I still am, or at least partially. Am I somehow betraying him since I decided to not follow the same path as him or even my current advisor? No, I don't think so. I'd love to be half as successful as them someday, but the recipe and therefore the outcome will look different. And I think that's because I've finally convinced myself that I'm doing it at least partially for myself. This is why I enjoyed Bruce's post; it made this a lot more concrete for me. I'm glad that Bruce realized this a bit sooner in his PhD than I did.
I've changed a lot over the last five years. Obviously the world has changed a lot over the last five years, too. As I discovered what I want to do after this, I've started looking back on everything I've gone through while working on my research. While it's true that I've learned arguably too much about a niche topic and become a better thinker, I've also just learned a lot about myself. Almost every day can feel the same during a PhD. It's a drag. But I've also come to appreciate the groundedness that comes with it. It forces you to notice yourself and your own abilities, some of which were already there from the beginning. I should have believed in myself more.
It's a little bittersweet because I recently found out that that professor works at a different university now. I'll always associate him with my alma mater though. I am confident the past few years of my life would have looked very different if not for him, for better or for worse. Maybe it's a bit disappointing that I relied on the idea of someone else believing in me to keep going, but at least I finally feel like I do believe in myself and like I am doing all this for myself.