smarty pants

My favourite congratulatory card - received from my Boetie. I'm thinking I should wear the badge to work!

happiness in bitter sweetness

I feel a deep regret at not having written this post a week ago, for now all the happiness and elation I felt last week at having finally reached the end of that rocky journey, has dissipated. I passed my PhD with minor corrections after an intense viva experience that I don't think I could have prepared for in a 100 years. I still need to tell that story but it won't be right now.

Tonight sitting here in my warm lounge working on eliminating all the typos in the thesis and fretting at the thought of having to reformat the page numbering and once again do all the Image and Figure cross-referencing - I've been disturbingly reminded how uncertain the PhD journey, and in particular how fragile the supervisory relationship, can be. It does feel right to be waxing lyrically about my achievement while a friend of mine is battling some of the same demons I did just a few months ago. Bitter, sweet; always bitter, sweet.

on my way to the UK

Indeed the time has arrived and by 10pm tonight I will be on a plane heading to the UK to attend my viva. The final little piece to the puzzle that soon will be 'my PhD'. So much has been happening in my personal life these past few weeks, that in certain ways the viva and its preparations have had to take a back seat. And now as I'm always fond of saying - the process is just carrying me on. A sense that it's all outside of my control and all I can do is 'go with the flow' as my Mom is fond of saying. But I have been practicing and thanks to some coaching from a colleague and long lost friend MSJ, I feel ok about what I might encounter next Wednesday. I'll have some time over the next few days to put the finishing touches to my notes and rehearse some of the more standard responses to standard-type questions. But I also feel very supported. I've received well wishes and sweet, kind thoughts from so many people and my thinking is, with all this positive energy around me, a positive result is inevitable. I'm open, realistic but very aware of the work I've put in and I don't have to guess that the thesis is of passable quality. And all I want is to pass.

So here goes - and when I get back to Cape Town I'll have achieved this 'thing' and be recognised by a little precursor to my name (I can't get to the correct naming convention) that can mean so many things to different people. I'll have to work out what it means to me. But that's a story for another day and another blog post. Besides thinking about the moments immediately after the viva I'm also thinking about having some beach sand between my toes this Christmas, without any guilt associated with having chosen the beach instead of working on the PhD.

self talk and visualisation

A few days ago I responded to someone's question about how my viva preparations were going by saying 'the mind is strong, but the body is weak'. I was referring to my inability to get myself to just sit down at a table somewhere and do the preparation work I needed to do. I wanted to do it, and each morning I told myself I needed to do it, but I kept failing to do it. My friend's response to my lament, was to suggest that the mind is the most important ingredient in all this and as long as the mind was willing I would be ok.

Reflection on this piece of advice I see so much truth in it. Since my mock viva, I've been rehearsing answers, strategies for answers, thinking through different angles to take on particular questions - but I've been doing all of this in my head. I've been telling myself it will be ok, the viva will be ok, that 'I know my stuff'. I've been visualizing the day before the viva, the day of the viva, seeing myself in the viva, talking, expressing, responding, even feeling the intensity of the experience especially that burning sensation in my face that usually comes when I'm engaged in a heated discussion or when I get asked a difficult or tricky question. My visualisation are always about a positive outcome. I always pass, I think I believe this - that my thesis, my research and my understanding of the research is good enough to warrant a pass. But I'm preparing for different variations of this outcome - I see myself content with a 'pass with substantial amendments' even though I would prefer a 'pass with minor corrections'. But pass is the operative word and all the emotions attached to my self-talk and visualisation is linked firmly with this word.

mock viva intensity

I did, or should I say, I survived, my mock viva last week. The most lasting impression of the whole exercise was its intensity. Even though I 'sat' across the table (thanks to Skype) from my 'mock-examiners', who I knew personally, I felt the intensity of the process, the discussion and dialogue that will be a core feature of the REAL event in three weeks time. I jokingly said afterwards, that if I was nervous about the real viva, after the mock, I'm now definitely scared. The mock viva made it blatantly clear to me that the viva is not to be confused with a 'conversation or chance to talk about my research', which unfortunately conveys a sense of a somewhat calm, easy, relaxed and informal chat one might have with peers. This will be different. It will be intense and I will need to perform appropriately. I need to have an primary angle on my research but I also need to be able to see my research and its implications from a number of different angles (even angles I haven't thought of before). I must be able to think on my feet and engage in true academic debate. This means having a deep understanding of my research study but also how it relates and impacts on issues that are much border than the research's narrow parameters.

Besides getting a taste of the intensity to come, the mock viva was extremely affirming. Even with the difficult questions and my reliance here and there on crib notes, I felt confident. And not just a superficial sense of confidence - but an authentic sense that actually I do know my stuff (mostly) and if I prepare some more and work out my strategies slightly differently I can come out alive on the other side. Yes I really can taste the end of this journey.

what can I say?

Dear Lynn

This is to confirm arrangements for your Open University research degree examination.

Your exam will take place on 13 November 2013 at 14:00 at the university campus at Walton Hall, Milton Keynes. 

Please report to the quiet area outside the Cedar Meeting room, Jennie Lee Building, 1st Floor, in good time

If you have any queries, please contact the Research Degrees Office on +44(0) 1908 659616 or reply to this email.  I wish you every success in your examination.

Kind regards

Su

erratum

I'm sitting in the cafe in Obs. I sit here most Sunday evenings, trying to write, trying to reconnect with my 'academic' self, drinking more cappuccinos than I suspect is good for me. I've been trying to write a rough draft of a section of a chapter I'm meant to be construct with my supervisor. I'm late with getting the draft together, yet the more I work on it, the more the argument I'm trying to construct seems to slip away from me. I haven't been able to selfishly block off time during my 'working' week to attend these 'academic' type tasks. I'm frustrated by my inability to organise my 'working' life so that I can accommodate and nurture my 'academic' self. These frustrations morphing into self-doubt about my ability to have or indeed cultivate an 'academic' self. Last time I noted how I actually might enjoy writing, provided I could accept that it was a long, slow process. Somehow the 'slow' aspect that is so revered in cooking and design has become twisted in my brain, representing all things negative.

Working on this chapter means working through my thesis and picking up the stupid, silly, downright careless mistakes that now appear to litter my thesis. Each time I find one of these irritating little reminders of my carelessness I curse at all the checks and balances and quality assurance measures I put in place to help avoid the very situation I now find myself in. I know there is a moral to this story - 'there is no such thing as a  error-free thesis' - but for now I just want to kick that freaking moral in its teeth. Yeah, yeah I know, ahimsa but I get some warped sense of satisfaction imagining that I could effect some pain on this inanimate thing causing me all this frustration. But all I can realistically do, is sigh, a long, deflating sigh and add yet another embarrassing entry to 'that' list I will take along to viva room on 13 November.

writing again

I'm trying to pull together a rough draft of a chapter I'm co-authoring with one of my supervisors. Once again I'm thrust into that strange happy-depressed placed. I'm excited about the opportunity to talk about my research, put forward my ideas and find ways of telling my story. But in equal measures the anxiety and frustration of not getting the 'right' words on paper and realising that I don't really have such a significant story to tell anyway sends me straight to the depths of despair. Sitting in my calm space this afternoon, having craved aside two hours to work on my writing away from my day-job I constantly had to tell myself, not to pour meticulously over each word, to focus on getting the argument down and leave the specifics associated with writing style until the next draft. Paying attention to this self-talk was exhausting, leaving little time to focus on the actual nuts-and-bolts of the paper I was trying to construct.

Earlier in the week I came across this http://thesiswhisperer.com/2013/09/25/how-to-write-faster/. In my mind this is just the thing to send  an eager would-be academic writer in search of the comfort of  a bottle or two of good South African red wine. Isn't it great to have a few little 'verbs' or topic sentence structures to set you on your merry way to write 'publishable' paragraph after 'publishable' paragraph. The energy I now need to counter this, well intentioned, but misdirected and dispiriting advice makes me want to just forget any delusional ambitions I might have had about publishing and find those bottles of red wine. A more  productive and, dare I say, empowering course of action is that I simply take the crib notes on offer and see the blog post for what it is - a narrow, one dimensional and decontextualised account of the very high stakes activity of academic writing, that instead of problematising the reasons for the difficulties writers' encounter, helps to perpetuate a deficit view of certain writers, who even after taking the advice on offer still struggle and even fail to produce those reams of 'publishable' words and sentences.

its been a year

Yesterday marked a full year since I arrived back in Cape Town. On the one hand I can't believe the time has passed so quickly, yet on the other hand there were distinct periods that passed by excruciatingly slow. Last year this time all I wanted to was to be further along with my work. When I reached December  and hadn't made much progress I remember my extreme frustration. Then came the month of writing the Introduction and another month spent re-working the data chapters. So yes, the time did disappear before my eyes but at certain times I felt each moment tick over.

I had an e-mail from my colleague in the UK - she submitted her thesis a few days ago, just making the fourth year cut off point. The 2008 cohort appear to be finally closing the circle. Then I get e-mails from the OU advertising activities for the new PhD recruits. This makes me think back, almost nostalgically, to my first few days at the OU, which now seem such a long, long time ago. But, I'm pleased that I'm on 'this' side of that journey. I realise I haven't said much about how I feel about being back home for a year. That's a story for another day, nicely lubricated by some lovely South African red wine.

write even when you don't want to

I was thinking about my last post a few days after I'd written it, reflecting on the fact that while I'd been conscientious in maintaining this blog I had completely stopped my journal writing. I've been journalling in one or other form since my early 20s. But I stopped about three years ago. The personal is too personal to write about. In my head the blog is for my PhD experiences, the ones I am able to share with the invisible but every present audience. My paper-based journals meant to occupy a more personal space reserved only for me and whoever gets to read it one day when I'm too old to care or dead. I know the reason why its been harder to write in my journals - because what I have to express is too immediate, personal, too painful - the kind of stuff I don't want to reflect on because by reflecting, it all becomes too real and I'd rather it be tucked away in the recesses of my mind. But for that very same reason I also know how important it is to write about those very things I want to forget or turn away from. You need to write even when you don't want to. Here my personal writing and my academic share a common connection. A few weeks back I spoke about being inspired to write. I haven't done anything yet, but the urge and push is becoming stronger. I want to write, even though I don't really want to and I feel this urge is driving me forward. The urge is so tangible that even though I know whatever I'm going to write will be crap, in the first instance, I don't care. The desire is there to do it anyway. I'm on a short break from work for the next week and hope I will concede to the need, desire to write, to create time to spend in my calm, familiar writing and research place. Push myself to do what certain parts of me don't really want to do. In this way the academic writing always has some leverage over the personal. If only it were so simple to rouse my personal writing genie.

what I remember

I'm participating in a pilot research study on the PhD writing experience. I was interviewed today and as a result of this process I was forced to think back on my PhD. Funny how having just submitted already it feels like it was all such a long, long time ago. Another interesting coincidence - September marks a year since my return from the UK, so lots of significance to having been asked to talk about, reflect on my PhD experience at this point.

At the close of the interview I commented how I felt I hadn't really 'covered everything', hinting at a sense noted in the literature on interviews as data collection method that participants find it hard not to want to please their interviewers and provide good, relevant data. I was given a suggestion to use the prompt 'I remember' to drive my subsequent thinking about the PhD for possible future interaction with the researcher. So here is a short list of things I remember at this moment - I'm aware of course that at another moment this list might take a very different shape.

I remember
- the walks from my house in Bardsey Court to the OU especially in Autumn and the warm colours of the leaves
- my office in Jeffrey Cowther Building where my desk sat in front of the window and I could look out across the green lawn and watch people enter and leave The Hub
- going to a conference in Lille in the Autumn of 2010 with my colleagues and one of my supervisors - I did a really good presentation of my MRes research and bonded with my colleagues at a very personal level for the first time. I see this time together as forming the basis of our now enduring friendship
- the tea and biscuit conversation breaks in the Jenny Lee Building with SB all through 3rd year
- the data workshops run by JM and DA where I was really forced to think really critically about data analysis in their various forms - because of these workshops I developed a great respect for linguistically focuses analysis tools and methodologies
- listening to Martyn Hammersley talk methodology and the time I kept bumping into him at the book check-out terminal at the OU library (something like three times in a row over a three to six month period)
- missing Cape Town
- the Academic Literacies Forum when it was an informal discussion group that took place during a lunchtime over your sandwiches and tea but where the essence of debates in the field were discussed and reflected on by expert and novice alike - where 'silly' questions were tolerated and celebrated
- walking home after supervision and crying, unable to fathom why things had seemingly gone so horribly wrong