On celebrating achievements and marking milestones

It was this blog’s 3rd birthday on Monday. I planned to put up this post then, but the day got away from me, and then my son became ill and yesterday was a write-off. So, I am trying to get this out today. All this busy-ness, and missing this milestone has had me thinking about why and when and how we should mark milestones during a PhD or similar process, and celebrate our achievements, both big and small.

happy-birthday-blogMilestones 

There are a few particular milestones during a PhD (or MA) that should be celebrated. There is getting into the programme of your choice – big box tick there. There is having your proposal approved – definitely cause for champagne or a celebratory beverage of choice. Or cake :-). Then there is the uber-milestone of handing in the first full draft and then the copy for examination and then the final meisterwerk to be lodged in the library ahead of graduation.

But there are also smaller milestones along the way that may not be celebrated, or seen as cause for celebration in quite so obvious a way. Here, I am thinking of completing chapter drafts, even before your supervisor tells you this draft is finished for now and you can move on to the next step. I am thinking of writing 500 words in a week where you have a thousand other things to do and time is at a premium and your brain is tired. I am thinking of getting a lovely comment of praise on your writing from a supervisor, or even a critical friend. These are, I would argue, also milestones or significant steps forward in your research journey or process, and thus deserve a form of recognition and celebration as well.

Rewards (and punishment)

When you make time to recognise these steps forward, even if they seem small in comparison to big leaps like proposal approval and finishing a full draft or final thesis, you are saying that you have done something of value. You have written 500 words you are happy with, or you have battled through a difficult patch of life and work and still created a draft of a chapter that you are proud of. Whether or not external recognition from supervisors is forthcoming, you need to be able to see, and reward, your progress. 

greatjobRewards can be big or small, but they need to be meaningful to you. They need to create the impetus for you to push forward to the next reward. My rewards were things like giving myself a weekend off and buying a new book to read, or going out for a coffee and a slice of cake, or giving myself permission to binge on a favourite show for a weekend. These things were small, but they made me feel supported and encouraged. They were my way of saying ‘well done!’ to myself.

I didn’t reward myself during my PhD as much as I think I could have, though. I think, far more, I berated myself for not making enough progress, or writing an even more amazing chapter or 500 words. Instead of consciously rewarding myself, I tended towards punishment. As in ‘you haven’t written enough this week, so no weekend for you!’ This was, as you might imagine, counter-productive, as the more I punished myself, the worse I felt about my PhD and the more I felt resentful of its intrusion into my down time.

So, to celebrate…

I thus want to argue, here, that you need to be celebrating yourself, your writing and your achievements, big and small, throughout your PhD. You need to be your own biggest cheerleader, recognising what to others may seem like a very little step – ONLY 500 words? – as a pretty big step in a slow week full of meetings and sick kids and school events and so on. You need to be celebrating these small but significant milestones (or yardstones if you prefer), rather than punishing yourself for not doing more. If you are a part-time student with a full-time life, the small steps are big, and they keep you pressing on (as long as they are close enough together to create momentum and motivation. minions-celebrating

I now reward myself regularly for what I regard as my writing achievements. But, I have to make the reward the same size as the achievement. If I have finished a paper and sent it to a journal, I can have several episodes of favourite show and cake. If I wrote the introduction of the paper, I can have an evening off and time with my novel. If I make the reward too big, especially if it includes time away from writing and reading, then I tend to struggle to get back into it, and the reward works against me continuing on with the momentum. So, you need to be realistic, and measured, and have your eye on your goals, your timeframes and your levels of energy and motivation as you plan your down time, your rewards and your celebrations. But, celebrate yourself you must! To steal a line from L’Oreal: ‘You’re worth it!’ 

Building ‘researcher resilience’

In my other work life, when I am not being a writer at home with my cats and endless cups of tea, I run workshops with academic lecturers and students, mostly focused on academic writing and research. Recently, I spent a productive day with an academic department at my former university helping them think about improving postgraduate supervision and scholarship in their growing Honours, MA and PhD programme. One of the most interesting points that kept coming up was the need to help their students develop a kind of ‘researcher resilience’. In this post I’d like to flesh out what this kind of resilience could mean, and how you could build it in your own research or supervision spaces.

What does it mean to be resilient?

Resilience is generally defined as having the ability to recover from or overcome misfortunes or struggles. Essentially, life or work or relationships will knock us down, and our ability to get back up ad keep moving forward, hopefully reflecting and on learning from the experiences that have knocked us, is resilience.

One of the issues the supervisors and lecturers I worked with recently commented several times that their students don’t have sufficient ability to recover from struggles in their research and writing, and when they are knocked down, they struggle to get up and keep moving forward. This obviously impacts on their supervisory relationships, as well as on their attitude towards their research and writing, and their ability to keep making progress towards completion. Developing researcher resilience is thus important to being a successful postgraduate student, and researcher.

Researcher resilience

If resilience in general is the ability to get up after being knocked down, metaphorically speaking, and keep going, then what is resilience in research? I would suggest, based on my own studies and research career thus far, and what my peers have shared with me, that it is the ability to manage disappointment and unexpected hurdles and keep making progress, encouraging and bolstering yourself along the way. These disappointments and hurdles may be many, but the ones that seem particularly significant to the supervisors I have been working with are: dealing with difficult and challenging feedback; finding relevant literature and resources; and grappling with complexity in research.

thewritingcampus.comFeedback:  I have written here and here about working with feedback. This is a tricky issue for writers, especially for writers who are postgraduate students anxious about doing well, pleasing supervisors and examiners, and earning their degree. It is often taken for granted that students, particularly at postgraduate level, will know how to decipher, make sense of, and then act on the feedback they are given. But, more often than not, students struggle to understand what their supervisor wants, either because of a lack of confidence, opaque and confusing feedback, too little feedback, or a combination of these and perhaps other factors. Feedback needs to be mediated to students, to enable them to learn how to make sense of it, claim ownership of it, and respond in ways that enable them to move forward with insight, and with increased confidence.

Too often feedback flattens students with feelings of inadequacy, shame and fear of failure. Learning to manage these feelings so that you can respond emotionally to feedback, but work through those responses to an intellectual response through further writing, research and revisions – this is what students need to learn how to do. While supervisors can learn how to write and speak their feedback more effectively, clearly and supportively, students also need to realise that everyone gets feedback that hurts, and demands more work, and that this is part of the writing process that they need to learn to manage more productively over time.

huffingtonpost.co.uk

huffingtonpost.co.uk

Finding resources: Another key issue raised, especially for ‘younger’ postgraduate students working on Masters degrees or very new to the PhD, was a lack of resilience around resource gathering. This referred to literature on their chosen research problem, as well as participants for empirical studies, archival materials, and other relevant research-related resources needed to make progress.

It isn’t always easy to find published research on your chosen research topic, especially if you are working in a smaller niche area, or in a new area where you are among only a few people doing your particular kind of research. However, it is pretty much never true that there are no relevant papers, articles, blogposts, newspaper articles, or published research of a credible kind on your research. With the internet growing bigger by the day, and more and more resources available to us, we need to be careful about what we choose to cite, and how credible our sources are, but we also have far more information and knowledge to access and learn from than ever before. Be creative: use reference lists written by authors of texts that are helpful. Contact corresponding authors of papers that you have found useful and introduce yourself politely. Briefly explain your research, and ask them if they can suggest useful reading to you. Get to know your librarian and enlist his or her help. Ask your supervisor to suggest key reading material if you get stuck. Play with your search terms and keep track of which ones yield better results. Go past page 3 of Google Scholar.

If you are struggling to find participants for an empirical qualitative study, or to respond to a survey, or to assist physically with your research, don’t give up. You need to be pragmatic. There is often a wishlist of research participants, and a real-world list. Sometimes you can be fortunate enough to have these lists match. Often, though, people will be busy, or on sabbatical, or traveling, or just won’t respond to your emails, requests and pleas. Draw on your networks, your peers’ networks and supervisors’ networks (if you can), and be practical. Try to start with participants who will respond and will be able to give you relevant data. Ask them to suggest other people to talk to – use different forms of purposive sampling or snowball sampling to select other participants. There is always a plan to be made; you may have to make 15 phone calls, or send several emails before you get a response, but you need to keep going.

Grappling with complexity: Finally, supervisors mentioned students’ need to become more resilient about grappling with complexity, and becoming okay with not knowing and being confused or a bit lost. Struggle is part of the journey, but too much struggle can be paralysing. So this is a challenge for supervisors and students alike. The reality is that no MA or PhD or journal article or book can answer every question, and there are so many ways of addressing research problems that there will always be someone who disagrees with you, or offers critique of your work.

The problems most of us research are complex, and multi-layered, and we often only work with a small slice of a problem and a possible solution or answer. But don’t mistake small slices for superficiality. Often, somewhat paradoxically, we need great depth of insight into our research problem to make it simple, accessible and knowable by our audience. Pushing away the papers that offer different angles, refusing to read the work of those with an opposing point of view – this doesn’t make your research simpler. It makes it less likely to have anticipated challenges and able to respond to these. As a mentor once said to me: you can’t pretend those who disagree aren’t out there; you need to engage with them and persuade them that your argument is stronger than theirs. This is perhaps the toughest area in which to build researcher resilience, but it’s the most important.

lmnop.com.au

lmnop.com.au

At the end of the day, to push through the rough patches, disappointments, lost data, absent supervisors and other myriad issues that can scupper even the most well-planned projects, researchers need to build resilience. This can be facilitated by supervision that makes visible students’ hurdles and struggles and makes space to talk about and deal with them productively. But it also is up to students to create and manage support systems that can bolster them as they progress, and to consciously work on becoming more research-resilient over time.

Managing your ‘research admin’

This post tackles that terribly unsexy but very vital topic of ‘research admin’; that is, the processes that go into creating and storing all your data, writing, artefacts and so on that make up the research you do, and that need to be carefully managed so as to avoid disaster, stress and undue panic attacks. I have had to do some serious thinking about my own admin systems this week after I lost two big and irreplaceable pieces of data I was hoping to use in a paper I am presenting at a conference next week; I am learning a painful and stressful lesson about paying attention to where and how I store my data, writing and other research artefacts.

This is an area of doing research and being a researcher that I have not often spent too much time thinking about and working on, to be honest. But, last week I was forced to pay some serious attention when I finally got around to uploading all my old, PhD and newer, postdoc data into a new version of Nvivo on my new laptop. I did not convert my project on my old Nvivo application before that laptop died, so I need to recreate my PhD project alongside my postdoc project in this newer application of the programme. It’s a pain, but it has to be done and seeing as I now am writing two papers that draw on both the older and newer data, I can’t put off the uploading, organising, transcribing and coding any longer. So last Thursday I set aside most of the day for the task of putting all of my data into Nvivo and organising it. This involved finding all the data on an external harddrive and in Google Drive and in Dropbox, translating file formats from those not accepted into those accepted by the application and then creating folders and waiting for it all to be transformed and uploaded. It took ages, and I regretted putting it off so long. If I had just been chipping away at it bit by bit it would not have seemed like such a mission. But I digress.

On Thursday, to start this uploading etc process, I went looking for all my files and folders. I backed up my Dropbox and my laptop into an external HD at the end of my PhD, and during 2014 when I was generating postdoc data. But, and I can’t work out why I did this, I backed up in bits and pieces rather than in entirety. So, when I opened ‘Backup of Dropbox June 2014’ only some of the folders were there rather than all of them. One of the Postdoc data 2014 folders (in the HD) has all the lecture and interview audios from that year, and the other identical folder (in Google Drive) is missing 6 of them. But these folders should both be complete. When I searched for the workshop audios I recorded last year – both lengthy and valuable pieces of data on how my findings were received in the two departments I worked with – I could not find them at all. Anywhere. I searched every folder in every storage space I own (external HD, Google Drive, Dropbox, iCloud, Mac HD). It became very clear, in the midst of my stomach-dropping freak-out, that I need to make some vital improvements to my methods of storing information related to my research.

Firstly, having cloud storage is a must: I have heard so many terrible stories about PhD students saving all their data and writing files on a USB, or in a HD, only to have these crash, taking all their data and writing with them. The cloud won’t crash, and is accessible everywhere you have a computer or tablet and an internet connection. And memory of your passwords :). But splitting your folders and files between different clouds can be tricky without a clear and consistent system. What do you put where? What logic would you create and use for your filing system? If you have duplicate folders, I think you’re asking for confusion, because you either have to always save all your files in both locations, or you’ll likely end up with folders that have different sets of files in them even though they look like duplicates.

I work between Dropbox, which I love, and Google Drive, which I love less but which almost everyone I work with likes to work with, so I am learning to like it. I have more storage space in Google Drive, so have had duplicate (but not) folders in both, for example ‘Writing’ and ‘Teaching’. Yet, I know that the Dropbox folder for ‘Writing’ is the current, complete one, and the Drive folder for ‘Teaching’ is the current complete one. Why, then, all the unnecessary duplication and confusion, you ask? Laziness, probably. And perhaps also a fear that I can never have enough back-ups or storage spaces, hence my oddly inconsistent attempts to have the same files and folders everywhere. Just in case. This, however, has clearly not worked. Data has gone missing. Panic has ensued.

I am, therefore, taking action and having a ‘spring clean’ of all my storage spaces. I have also actually written down, in my research journal, my logic for an updated storage system, so that I have it somewhere that feels more concrete that the ‘e’-nvironment in which I mostly work. Firstly, I have gotten rid of all my duplicates and have divided my folders into personal and archival data (Dropbox) and work-related and current data (Drive). Everything is now backed up, in clearly marked folders, in a new external HD. My lovely husband, who has way more Dropbox space than I do (having actually forked out money for it whereas I am too cheap to do so) has created a shared folder for me in his Dropbox into which I can put all my current research-related files and folders especially. I have also emailed myself a few very important files I cannot bear to think about losing, like my final thesis and a couple of papers I am presently working on.

I have gone through the personal folders and deleted old and unused files, and things I no longer need, to free up more storage space for the files and documents I do and will need. I’m working on doing the same with the work-related folders as I have time. I think regular clean-outs are a good idea, as cloud storage and computer hard drives can fill up fast, and often we save things that can eventually be deleted. Look at your ‘last opened’ date as an indicator of when you last had a need for that information, and ask yourself if it needs to be archived, for example on an external HD, or could be deleted.

Secondly, I have had a think about how I create my data given that the two pieces of data I have lost are (or were) audio files generated on an audio recorder, that needed to be downloaded, saved and synced with my cloud. It turns out I do have one piece of data I can use in this paper – an audio file of a similar workshop to the two I have lost that I generated with my iPhone. My phone automatically syncs itself with my Mac when they within range of one another over the wifi, so when I open iTunes, all my voice memo files are there. I’m now thinking about ways to generate data, like video and audio, that will more easily ‘sync’ with the storage tools I use. Audio from now on I will certainly be recording with my phone, as it works really well for small workshops, interviews, and focus groups, and I’m looking into video options for my new data generation phase coming up soon.

Spending some time thinking about the technological tools we use to capture or generate our data is worthwhile. There are so many different tools and options out there, but finding those that work effectively for your aims and that make storing, sharing, and managing the data that much easier and safer can save you so much stress and hassle. Do some research, ask around (Twitter is great for this sort of thing, as there is loads of experience and advice out there); don’t just grab the first tool you find, or the only one you know or think you can afford. Your data is so valuable – you cannot duplicate it, or just generate more – and without it those papers, presentations and research artefacts are so difficult to create (if you can do that at all without your data).

Research admin is not a sexy topic, to be sure, but it is one that needs to be tackled when you are taking on a longer-term, complex and multi-layered task like an advanced postgraduate degree or a research project. Having a solid, consistent system and making time in your schedule to apply your system to creating, saving, and sharing your files and folders is well worth the effort.

 

Setting up, maintaining, mending your support systems

A friend of mine asked me recently how I managed to finish a PhD in three and a bit years, with a full-time job and a full-time homelife. I found it quite hard to answer her, especially given that, in retrospect, my PhD doesn’t seem all that difficult now (kind of like when you have done something really tough, like had a baby or run a marathon or climbed a mountain, and you think: ‘I could do that again, that wasn’t so bad!’ even though it was awful a lot of the time while you were going through it). So, I have thought a lot about this, and I think I finally have an answer.

I finished in the time I did because of the support I had. This support came in different forms, and I have divided it into four main kinds that made a big difference during my candidacy: home, personal, work, and PhD-specific.

I’ll start with home, because this, for me, was really important, and also really tough to manage consistently. I have a lovely husband and two lovely, but young, children who need me rather a lot. I also need to be there for them rather a lot, and like many parents I have organised my time and life around them since they were born, and a lot of who I am as a person is bound up in who I am as their mother. Not being very present or in control of all things parenting, therefore, was not really a viable option for me during my PhD. But, as I found out, it was really, really difficult to be a very full-time parent and partner, a very full-time academic, and a very committed PhD student (and not be very stressed and hysterical all the time). My husband, thankfully, is a very capable parent when I stand back and let him do things his way, instead of my way, and he was willing to put me and my PhD work ahead of his own in order to support me (for at least most of the three years). But, and this is the key, I really struggled to let that be. I struggled to let go of being all things to all of my family, and let him manage the kids and their lives so that I could focus on questions of theory, data, tense, fonts and all of that big and small PhD stuff I needed to focus on. It was only really in my final year, when I just had to finish, that I sort of got enough of the hang of letting go, and could actually focus on me and my work without feeling guilty or torn, or left out of what my husband and kids were getting up to while I was alone at my desk, writing. Support at home is essential, but you also need to let your home support you.

The second area where I needed, and was fortunate enough to receive, support and time was at work. I ran a small unit during my PhD and my time was largely my own to manage. This was very fortunate because I didn’t feel like I was clocking in and out with someone looking over my shoulder and accounting for each minute of my day. I was able to, some weeks, carve out a morning (and even have a day or two here and there at home) to focus on my PhD, having reorganised the rest of my workload around these PhD mornings or days. My close colleagues outside of my unit were encouraging, and in my final year accommodated (at least some of) my answers of ‘no, I can’t do that right now, ask me again next year’ with latitude for the most part. Again, though, a lot of what I received hinged on me asking for what I needed, and being firm, once I got the support, in letting it be. I had to learn to say ‘no’, which I am not very good at, and I had to learn to let people help me, also something I am not good at. I was fortunate – my close colleagues were a great source of kindness and support, which made up for the indifference from other less friendly colleagues and management. But I also had to find ways of asking for support and time and space in ways that did not put people’s backs up, or seem like I was asking for favours I was not due.  I learnt some valuable lessons about standing up for myself, and also about diplomacy, tact and timing.

A further area where I needed excellent support was in PhD-specific spaces of supervision and peer-groups. I was part of a structured PhD programme with an active online listserv and regular contact weeks where we all got together for workshops, lectures, seminars and supervision sessions. This support, along with the excellent supervision I received, took at least a year off my PhD in my opinion, as I had both real support, and also imagined chastisement if I did not make progress. I had, in other words, people who were keeping tabs on me, although completely supportively and kindly, and this accountability translated into me egging myself on because I didn’t want to let any of them down (and by extension let myself down). Reaching out to form a PhD support group where you feel you are not all on your own, and that your progress, struggles, and triumphs matter to others, can be a crucial source of support.

Finally, I had to learn to be my own support. I had to learn to encourage myself, and be warm and kind rather then mean and derogatory, especially when days of doing no PhD work turned into weeks and stagnation rather than progress was the order of things. I had to make time for myself, and tell myself that this time was not indulgent, or taking time away from my kids or work: that it was necessary and important and worth protecting. This was really difficult, all the way through. It still is. However, doing the PhD taught me to be kinder to myself, and to be more supportive of my own research, my own achievements and my own struggles. If I am not on my own side, how can I convince others that it’s a side they should be on too? I am much more of a cheerleader for myself now, giving myself more of the kindness I find easier to give to others.

Support systems are not easy to set up, maintain, and especially to mend if they have fallen apart. They require care, time and emotional energy, and these things are often in short supply during a PhD candidacy. However, without these four different kinds of support, something as long, challenging, often lonely and also triumphant as doing a PhD would be much more difficult than it could or should be.

My PhD is… How do you represent your PhD to yourself and others?

I follow ‘Shit Academics Say’ on Facebook, and the inspiration for this post comes from a post on their feed (similar to the image below).

PhD students have such a range of experiences of, and feelings about, doing their PhDs. A basic sense of human psychology tells us that repressing emotions and feelings, positive or negative, can lead to people feeling alone, odd, alienated, stuck, and depressed. As Meg Ryan said to Kevin Kline in ‘French Kiss’: ‘Express, not repress!’ So, these PhD experiences and emotions need to be expressed, preferably to those who will listen and be able to offer support, and even guidance or useful help. But, in giving voice to these feelings and experiences, it is worth thinking about what we do say to ourselves about our PhDs and how we represent them to ourselves and to others. If our words can speak things into being – feelings or experiences – then our words about our research can be powerful tools that either pull us down or lift us up.

A quick glance into the world of what people are telling Google Search about their PhDs yields this result:

Screenshot 2015-03-17 15.08.01

Other than the rather fun suggestion about a PhD in dance, the three options Google chooses to autocomplete this sentence with are negative: ‘worthless’, ‘boring’, ‘killing me’. The options Google selected are based (if I understand how this works accurately) on how many times people have typed these words into Google to search for resources or help. Why are so many PhD experiences (if this snapshot is any kind of indication) so negative? Why is the PhD more often than not framed as a long, arduous, lonely trudge, as opposed to a challenging, stimulating and ultimately empowering thing? Why is there not, in the more popular discourses around PhD study, more of an emphasis on what the PhD offers a scholar; the ups rather than the downs? People have done research that answers some of these questions, and I’d like to use this post to offer some of my thoughts on why this might be.

I represented my own PhD in different ways at different points. Early on it was a millstone, a source of great anxiety and stress. Around the proposal stage I felt quite excited as my plans took shape and I could see what lay ahead, even though I was still anxious about whether I could actually do what I was proposing. Writing the theoryology was mostly tough, and I said lots of unrepeatable things about the theory, my PhD and academia in general. I was mostly anxious, with small bits of delight in writing a section that looked and sounded really ‘Dr-ish’. Generating data and transcribing it was mainly tedious, although the analysis and writing of the ‘findings’ chapters was actually enjoyable, because it brought all the theory to life. This is a small snapshot of my representation of my PhD. There was constant anxiety, really (I am an anxious person generally), but over and above this there was exhaustion, stress, uncertainty on the ‘minus’ side, and delight, enjoyment, learning and satisfaction on the ‘plus’ side.

A PhD can’t be all plus or all minus, I don’t think. It takes too long to just be one or the other. Although some of my colleagues have loved their PhDs overall, they experienced tough, lonely and frustrating patches. And those who have had a hard time overall have also had moments, even small, where they have felt enlightened, stimulated and elated, even (think of that call to say the proposal was accepted, or being told a chapter draft is done for now because it’s good enough and you can move on to the next one). But the minuses, and Inger Mewburn has made this point in her writing, are often easier to talk about with others than the plusses – perhaps because of the more general discourses around PhDs that highlight the struggles over the enjoyment.

In some ways, it felt to me at times that I needed to make my PhD more of an enemy than I generally felt it was in order to be ‘in’ with colleagues who were struggling. I did not feel I could sit with them and say, ‘Oh, I love my PhD. I am really enjoying it right now. The writing is going so well!’ when they were saying versions of ‘My supervisor is so distant. I have no support at work. I can’t do this anymore’. I could complain about being tired, frustrated, confused, and discouraged at various points, and I certainly did. But I felt hesitance at representing my PhD in more positive terms in front of certain audiences, especially other students who were having a tough time. I am sure I was not alone in feeling this hesitance and, at times, even talking my PhD down rather than up so as not to alienate myself.

We all represent, and misrepresent, our PhDs in different ways and for different reasons: to fit in, to gain a sense of solidarity, to find empathy and care, to work through what we are feeling and try to move past especially negative feelings and experiences. The issue for me is this: if you feel like you spend more of your time talking your PhD and by extension yourself down, you are almost certainly putting up obstacles to completing your research successfully, and you are probably increasing your anxiety and misery. I am not advocating that you start lying to yourself and others and saying your PhD is fabulous when it really is not. If you struggling, and you need help, care and support, you need to be able to ask for it. But, I think I am saying that (hopefully) it’s not all doom and gloom all the time. There are reasons you took this on, and motivations you have, and these could be framed more positively to focus you on your ‘ups’, for example the learning and intellectual growth you experience, the connections with communities of scholars, either face-to-face or virtually, and the personal sense of achievement in taking on and succeeding at such a challenging undertaking.

If you are battling to see the light, consider starting a research journal: write to yourself not just when you are down and your PhD is boring or killing you, but also when you are up: have had a good meeting with your supervisor, or a supportive coffee with fellow PhD students, or a productive writing day. Talking your PhD up more often, to yourself and others, may help to mitigate against the downs, and may contribute to you feeling less burdened by the PhD, and more engaged by, and in, it on the whole.