Except in a few e-mails, I haven't written much about the death of my dissertation, so this is my one and (probably) only post on the subject.
In conversations with friends, family, and colleagues, I seem to be covering the same ground quite a bit, so I thought it might be useful to address these topics all in one place. I've also decided to use a device employed for decades in educational films and infomercials: questions posed by a precocious 9 year-old; we'll call him Timmy. Let's proceed to the Q and A!
Ted: Welcome, Timmy.
Timmy: Thanks, Mister. What's that smell?
Ted: It's the dog.
Ted: Now, Timmy here will read the questions from the index cards provided because that's how this little thing works. Let's get started. What's your first question?
Timmy: Now that you know your dissertation will never be finished, don't you feel like a total loser?
Ted: That's a common misconception, Billy.
Timmy: Timmy.
Ted: Whatever.
Ted: You see, the thing is, kid, there's a difference between realizing that a goal you set for yourself years ago won't be fulfilled and feeling like a loser. I set out to accomplish something that was really difficult, and I don't just mean getting a doctorate. I took on a topic that required a lot of information that wasn't readily available. I knew it was a risk, but I also thought I had found reasonable alternative measures when direct measures weren't available. Unfortunately, the more I dug, the more I realized the ways I had been trying weren't going to work. So I came up with other measures. These too came up short, and still other measures were developed. This is how science often proceeds. It can be a long, frustrating, tedious process, but in the end your work is stronger for overcoming these short-term setbacks. Unfortunately, those are the types of projects one should take on after one has a Ph.D. (or better yet, tenure). When you're doing a dissertation, take on a project you know is possible with the tools already available. It's not the Apollo program. Sometimes the reason the hole in the literature exists is because it just can't be filled yet; I'm convinced that's the case with my project. I stayed with a bad topic too long. I'm not the first, and I won't be the last.
So, do I feel like a loser for not finishing? Nope. I'm certainly disappointed, and I'd do things differently if I had it to do all over again, but I'm proud of how far I got and I'm not ashamed of having tried. Just because the dissertation won't be completed, doesn't mean I'm a failure; it was what I did, not who I was.
Timmy: That sounds pretty nice, but wouldn't a psychologist say you're just in denial?
Ted: I don't know what you mean.
Timmy: You know, denial: an unconscious defense mechanism used to reduce anxiety by denying thoughts, feelings, or facts that are consciously intolerable.
Ted: They said you were precocious. What's on the next card?
Timmy: Answer the question.
Ted: Billy...
Timmy: Timmy.
Ted: Whatever. Have I introduced you to my good friend Bernie Kerik?
Timmy: No, but what's the point of this?
Bernie: Hey Timmy. That's a nice family you got living at 525 W. Main. You, your mom, Barbara, and your dad, James, and your sister, Samantha. All living there with no alarm system or guard dog. It'd be an awful shame if somethin' was ta happen to yous guys.
Timmy: I'll be good.
Ted: I thought you'd come around.
Ted: Thanks, Bernie. See in Leavenworth.
Bernie: What?
Ted: Nothing.
Ted: Now, where were we? Right. Next card.
Timmy: If you knew how tough it was going to be, why didn't you switch topics sooner?
Ted: Yeah, well, that's one of the things I'd do differently. The short answer is that I had been working on the thing for so long and had put so much into it, I wasn't able to let it go when I knew it was not going to work.
Ted: Yeah, well, that's one of the things I'd do differently. The short answer is that I had been working on the thing for so long and had put so much into it, I wasn't able to let it go when I knew it was not going to work.
At least I can relate to our Iraq "strategy." Just six more months. I'm sure things will fall into place if I just work harder.
Timmy: Isn't that a popular definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?
Ted: Who are you, Freud's long-lost great, great, grandson? Just read the cards.
Ted: Who are you, Freud's long-lost great, great, grandson? Just read the cards.
Timmy: When you look back on your graduate school experience, doesn't that seem like a huge waste of time?
Ted: That's a common misconception, Billy.
Timmy: Timmy.
Ted: Whatever.
Ted: Obviously, this wasn't where I expected to be right now, but it wasn't a waste. For one thing, I actually learned a lot. Even if nobody beyond a relatively small group of very odd people cares about developing more complete theories of organizational change and their applicability to modern White House advisory structures, it was interesting to me. And knowledge for its own sake is underrated anyway. For another thing, I didn't just learn a bunch of esoteric facts and theories and boring academic fights, I learned skills that I might never have found otherwise. It may sound strange coming from someone who spent a good bit of the last decade in front of rooms full of students, but for much of my life before graduate school, I was terrified of public speaking. After all that teaching, I'm not just comfortable in front of groups, but I've grown to like it quite a bit. I'm skeptical that I would have found that out about myself if I had done something else.
Ted: That's a common misconception, Billy.
Timmy: Timmy.
Ted: Whatever.
Ted: Obviously, this wasn't where I expected to be right now, but it wasn't a waste. For one thing, I actually learned a lot. Even if nobody beyond a relatively small group of very odd people cares about developing more complete theories of organizational change and their applicability to modern White House advisory structures, it was interesting to me. And knowledge for its own sake is underrated anyway. For another thing, I didn't just learn a bunch of esoteric facts and theories and boring academic fights, I learned skills that I might never have found otherwise. It may sound strange coming from someone who spent a good bit of the last decade in front of rooms full of students, but for much of my life before graduate school, I was terrified of public speaking. After all that teaching, I'm not just comfortable in front of groups, but I've grown to like it quite a bit. I'm skeptical that I would have found that out about myself if I had done something else.
Finally, I met some great people who I'm proud to call my friends, and I never would have met them otherwise. Groucho Marx famously said he wouldn't join any club that would have him as a member so I've got to worry about the judgment of the people who would be my friends, but I'm glad to have them.
Card me, kid.
Timmy: What will you do now?
Ted: Get a haircut and get a real job. I've enjoyed teaching, and if the opportunity presents itself, I'd like to continue teaching part-time, but if there was ever a time to make a break, this is it. I don't know yet what I'll do, but we should know soon.
Right now, I'm just sending out applications and playing this video game Sarkis sent me. You see, you've got to throw this paper airplane through an open window and see how far it goes. It's very addictive.
I hate Sarkis. He knows this
Timmy: You're drinking heavily now, aren't you?
Ted: That's a common misconception, Billy.
Timmy: Timmy.
Ted: Whatever.
Ted: Oddly enough, no. I haven't had much of anything alcoholic since the big move. It helps that midwest beer selections leave A LOT to be desired. So, no, whatever your name is, I'm stone-cold sober right now.
Timmy: Are you sure? You really do smell kinda funny.
Ted: I've already told you, that's just the dog. Read the cards, kid.
Timmy: We were done with the cards after "What will you do now?". I just had to know about that smell.
Ted: You certainly are precocious. Trust me, kid, it's the dog.
