Have you started the PhD yet? And other FAQs.
My most frequently frequented FAQ these past few weeks has been 'have you started the PhD yet?' This is even something I saw frequently asked by other PhDs (as it appears we are known, despite the oft-repeated rhetoric that we are more than our research) when we've gathered together. The desire to calibrate your experience against others' runs deep, I guess.
Simple answer: still not sure.
Practical answer: I have sat in the library, read 3 articles (all 3 of which I had strongly insinuated that I had read when I applied for the PhD - does anyone have time to read beyond the abstract though, really?) I have a desk. I have been to 4 lectures. I have even had a supervision meeting! I have also been to several induction events.
Real answer: I am still struggling to capture in words the experience of this past week and a bit. I have worked in a combination of planning, urban design and active travel for the past 5+ years and a multitude of things before that. My job that I just left was life-giving in so many ways; that rare, fragile space where the skills you can offer overlap with what you really care about. With excellent, inspiring colleagues thrown in too. It was, for better or worse, a large part of my identity and I enjoyed that. The decision to leave all that and embark on a PhD was slightly out of the blue for me, even though it was me making the decision. It wasn't not on the plan, but it wasn't really on it either! Most frightening by far was the thought of leaving structure and routine for something entirely different (and entirely unknown). Harder still perhaps is shaping my identity away from something safe (if challenging) towards something new and unknown. I was the only person doing my old job; now I am one of very, very many.
So how to capture the experience of sitting at an induction event in a room with 50+ other people just starting PhDs? Doing a round of introductions round the room and hearing everyone describe their topic, recognising that I am somewhat 'lucky' in that my topic (walking, cycling, regeneration) is to some extent relatable for most people. (My other favourite relatable topic so far is someone I met who is studying reusable menstrual products - it's nice finding people who are learning more about things that interest me. Oh and there is one woman studying whisky.)
There is something awe-inspiring about the sheer breadth of human interest. The security, I suppose, of knowing that all these diverse, weird and wonderful things matter intensely to at least one person. I don't have kids, so I can't speak to the experience, but I wonder what it feels like at early NCT classes with groups of very new parents suddenly tasked with having a new being to nurture and raise. We were all sat there with our new, vulnerable PhD beings. Already feeling a sense of protection over our topics but also unable to explain beyond a few words (in my case) who and what they were. I 'adopted' my PhD, in that the proposal was put together by others and I applied to study it, so I perhaps have even less pre-existing attachment to it, yet still this sense of identity forming around it.
Overall, it would be remiss to describe the last 10 days as anything other than overwhelming. But not, in many cases, in a bad way. The sense of privilege is overwhelming: how have I come to be given this opportunity to spend 3 years being paid (something at least) to understand things that I know are so desperately important. For me, just the getting to be back in Glasgow is overwhelming. It is a city I am in love with and I am so grateful to have been given a chance to come back. There has barely been a day when I haven't been on the verge of tears just walking around and looking at things. The absolute sense of possibility is overwhelming; something about that heady mix of creativity and the unknown.
And yes, the lack of structure is overwhelming. I have largely offset it by going to lectures, inductions and making spreadsheets of time management, which I know from experience will last me usefully about a week... The human tendency to compare and calibrate against others is almost impossible to toggle off so as much as I have found it fascinating hearing others' experiences, especially those who have to some extent 'made it' and have been invited back to speak as 2nd or 3rd year PhDs, it is exhausting.
The bare-faced reality is that 10 days in, I haven't really read a thing. I don't even remember how to read academically. I miss my colleagues and part of me would like to be back out analysing pavements, as I was paid to do until so recently. I know just about enough about next week to be able to switch the computer on on Monday morning and I could distract myself with coursework for one of the courses i'm taking on quantitative methods (not my forte). At some point, very soon, I will need to Start (with a big S)... But there is peace within, for the moment. And for that, and so many other things, I am deeply grateful.
Simple answer: still not sure.
Practical answer: I have sat in the library, read 3 articles (all 3 of which I had strongly insinuated that I had read when I applied for the PhD - does anyone have time to read beyond the abstract though, really?) I have a desk. I have been to 4 lectures. I have even had a supervision meeting! I have also been to several induction events.
Real answer: I am still struggling to capture in words the experience of this past week and a bit. I have worked in a combination of planning, urban design and active travel for the past 5+ years and a multitude of things before that. My job that I just left was life-giving in so many ways; that rare, fragile space where the skills you can offer overlap with what you really care about. With excellent, inspiring colleagues thrown in too. It was, for better or worse, a large part of my identity and I enjoyed that. The decision to leave all that and embark on a PhD was slightly out of the blue for me, even though it was me making the decision. It wasn't not on the plan, but it wasn't really on it either! Most frightening by far was the thought of leaving structure and routine for something entirely different (and entirely unknown). Harder still perhaps is shaping my identity away from something safe (if challenging) towards something new and unknown. I was the only person doing my old job; now I am one of very, very many.
So how to capture the experience of sitting at an induction event in a room with 50+ other people just starting PhDs? Doing a round of introductions round the room and hearing everyone describe their topic, recognising that I am somewhat 'lucky' in that my topic (walking, cycling, regeneration) is to some extent relatable for most people. (My other favourite relatable topic so far is someone I met who is studying reusable menstrual products - it's nice finding people who are learning more about things that interest me. Oh and there is one woman studying whisky.)
There is something awe-inspiring about the sheer breadth of human interest. The security, I suppose, of knowing that all these diverse, weird and wonderful things matter intensely to at least one person. I don't have kids, so I can't speak to the experience, but I wonder what it feels like at early NCT classes with groups of very new parents suddenly tasked with having a new being to nurture and raise. We were all sat there with our new, vulnerable PhD beings. Already feeling a sense of protection over our topics but also unable to explain beyond a few words (in my case) who and what they were. I 'adopted' my PhD, in that the proposal was put together by others and I applied to study it, so I perhaps have even less pre-existing attachment to it, yet still this sense of identity forming around it.
Overall, it would be remiss to describe the last 10 days as anything other than overwhelming. But not, in many cases, in a bad way. The sense of privilege is overwhelming: how have I come to be given this opportunity to spend 3 years being paid (something at least) to understand things that I know are so desperately important. For me, just the getting to be back in Glasgow is overwhelming. It is a city I am in love with and I am so grateful to have been given a chance to come back. There has barely been a day when I haven't been on the verge of tears just walking around and looking at things. The absolute sense of possibility is overwhelming; something about that heady mix of creativity and the unknown.
And yes, the lack of structure is overwhelming. I have largely offset it by going to lectures, inductions and making spreadsheets of time management, which I know from experience will last me usefully about a week... The human tendency to compare and calibrate against others is almost impossible to toggle off so as much as I have found it fascinating hearing others' experiences, especially those who have to some extent 'made it' and have been invited back to speak as 2nd or 3rd year PhDs, it is exhausting.
The bare-faced reality is that 10 days in, I haven't really read a thing. I don't even remember how to read academically. I miss my colleagues and part of me would like to be back out analysing pavements, as I was paid to do until so recently. I know just about enough about next week to be able to switch the computer on on Monday morning and I could distract myself with coursework for one of the courses i'm taking on quantitative methods (not my forte). At some point, very soon, I will need to Start (with a big S)... But there is peace within, for the moment. And for that, and so many other things, I am deeply grateful.
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