Getting help or going it alone: The lonely decision of the non-traditional dissertator

So far, I haven’t seen a book that addresses the plight of the dissertator who attends an online program or a for-profit university (or both, as I did). The nontraditional graduate experience is not the same as the traditional face-to-face graduate experience.

I described my experience of being a nontraditional graduate student in this blog post:

Some dissertators at my alma mater hired editors and coaches to help them complete their Ph.D. journey. While I was still struggling by myself in my dark dismal corner, I would read notes my fellow learners had left in the discussion folders. They effusively praised Dr. So-and-So for helping them get their proposals approved, even when the ink on Dr. So-and-So’s diploma was barely dry. I had mixed feelings about the idea of getting outside help.

For some of us, the prospect of getting help comes as a huge relief. For others, getting help seems like the worst form of giving up. Where are you on that continuum? And why do you believe what you believe? Now is the time to examine your own beliefs about getting help. Complete the following sentences:

Getting editing or coaching help is ____________________________________________

When I think of getting help, I feel ____________________________________________

People who get help are ___________________________________________________

Editors are ____________________________________________________________

People who hire editors think _______________________________________________

Dissertation coaches are ___________________________________________________

If other people found out I hired an editor or a coach, they would think that I _______________

There are no wrong answers. This isn’t a test, people. If you answered without overthinking it, maybe you now have some insight into how you perceive the question of whether to hire an editor and/or a coach.

Early on, I chose not to hire an editor. That means no one reviewed my work except my Chair and Committee member before it was submitted to the Graduate School. All the errors (and there are many) are therefore mine and mine alone. My rationale was that I wanted to be as sure as I could be that the work accurately represented my writing and research skills. I wanted to earn my place among the big dogs (or at least the mid-sized poodles) fair and square. Especially in light of the fact that I attended a for-profit institution, I felt the integrity of the entire process was at stake.

What it’s like to be a nontraditional learner at a for-profit university

Now that I’m on the editor’s side of the desk, I continue to have some misgivings about the use of editors. Sometimes I believe hiring an editor is the right choice, for example, when a dissertator’s first language is not English. If the dissertator’s ideas are doctoral-worthy but his or her grammar skills are lacking, I support the use of an editor, as long as the editor is able to accurately decipher the dissertator’s statements and translate them into correct academic English. If the statements are impossible to translate, then you can’t expect the editor to know if the writer’s ideas are doctoral-worthy or not.

On the other hand, if a dissertator’s ideas lack cohesion and logic, if the research problem and purpose are not clearly identified, if the research methodology and methods are unstated, not clearly stated, or inappropriate, then I think using an editor can camouflage the fact that the dissertator may not ready yet to advance to the dissertation level. You may ask, Am I nuts? I suppose if everyone agreed with me, I’d have a lot less editing work. But from an ethical point of view, I am expressing a concern: Some of the proposals I edit need a lot more than just copy editing. However, people don’t pay me to tell them that I think they aren’t ready for doctoral-level work; they pay me to edit their papers and make them look like they are ready for doctoral-level work. What’s a poor editor to do?

This situation reminds me of the hundreds of résumés I read for career-college students who could barely form complete sentences. My editing made them look like communications superstars on paper. I cringe when I think of how many of my former students probably closed their interviews by cheerily asking, “So, when are you going to make your guyses hiring decision?” Sigh.

I usually get editing jobs through an editing agency, so I see only a small part of each dissertator’s journey. I usually don’t know how much feedback the dissertator has received previously from his or her Chair or Committee. Sometimes, though, I see drafts with the Chair’s comments. Occasionally, the comments are extensive, thoughtful, explicit, and helpful. Yay. More often, the comments are tentative, sparse, terse, vague, and not helpful. In those cases, I feel compelled to offer what assistance I can to point some of these floundering dissertators toward shore.

Thus, when I edit a paper, I am performing the work of the Chair, without having the advantage of interaction with the dissertator. The most difficult decision people face is choosing methodology and methods. Multiple possibilities confound the dissertator’s overworked brain. I can almost hear the wheels spinning: Should I choose a qualitative design? Should I do a survey? Oh wait, maybe it is a case study?

What do you want from a dissertation coach?

Without knowing the dissertator’s objectives and disposition, I can only offer suggestions and point out options. However, as an editor, I can’t offer ongoing support after the dissertator chooses a survey method over an interview method. I hope my book might fill in some of the gaps for dissertators who struggle with unhelpful Chairs and Committees.

Back to the question, Should you get help or go it alone? The answer, as usual, is—it depends. Only you can decide. The best suggestion I can offer you is, Dissertator, know thyself. That means making a clear-eyed assessment of your skills and aptitudes. Take the Doctoral Readiness Survey. In particular, get some feedback on your writing skills from someone who already has some writing skills.

No worries. Either path you choose—whether you get help or go it alone—will teach you some interesting things about life and your place in it.

If you like to learn by reading, looking at diagrams, and hearing about other dissertators’ experiences, maybe my book can help.

Could unrealistic assumptions about getting a PhD be preventing you from getting your dissertation proposal approved?

When we enroll in a Ph.D. program, we’re making some assumptions about what a doctoral degree means and what it can do for us.

I made many assumptions about what it means to be in a doctoral program, some of which actually turned out to be true. For example, I assumed I was capable of doing the work, and luckily, I was, although at times I had doubts. I assumed I could complete the degree in the allotted amount of time. Fortunately, I did, barely, if you count the one-year extension I was granted. I also had an assumption about the value of a doctoral degree to my employer, which sadly turned out to be false.

Are you inadvertently holding yourself back because of your unrealistic assumptions? Here are some assumptions you might not realize you are making.

Assumption 1: You need a Ph.D. to succeed.

If you want to teach at the university level, I agree, you need a doctorate or other terminal degree. However, a doctorate is no guarantee of success, whatever success means to you. And lots of people have been successful (and maybe even happy?) without earning a doctorate. Just saying.

Assumption 2: A Ph.D. will make you happy.

Along those lines, if you are sure that finishing your dissertation and earning your doctoral degree is truly what will make you happy, then go for it. But don’t assume that you will finally be happy once you finish. If you make your happiness contingent upon achieving some external condition, whether it’s getting a new car or a doctoral degree, I fear you will be disappointed. Once the celebratory buzz wears off, you will discover that you are still the same person. And the people around you will still be the same people. A Ph.D. is not a personality transplant, for you or for your loved ones. If you can’t be happy without a Ph.D., odds are you won’t allow yourself to be happy when you have one.

Assumption 3: A Ph.D. will make you wealthy.

I bring this up just to get it out on the table. If becoming wealthy is your idea of success, if becoming wealthy is truly what will make you happy, start a tech firm or be a stockbroker. Don’t spend the next 3+ years of your life and $50,000+ in pursuit of a doctoral degree, especially if you plan on incurring student loan debt. You might get rich (whatever rich means to you) if you have a Ph.D., but you might also get rich without one. For sure, it will be a lot harder to get rich with $50,000+ in student loans hanging over your head.

Assumption 4: You deserve to have a Ph.D. just because you want one.

This assumption goes to the heart of who you believe you are. Some people believe the world owes them just for being alive. That sense of entitlement has a comical tendency to skew their perceptions of reality. Luckily, academe usually weeds out these folks. If you are one of these people, whoops, sorry if I offended you. Consider this a reality check. However, if you really feel you are entitled to a doctorate, nothing I say will change your belief, so carry on.

Assumption 5: Your Ph.D. will effortlessly come to you.

This sounds like an affirmation I used to say to myself back in the 80s. Everything I need comes to me easily and effortlessly. I manifest piles of money. I am successful, wealthy, and loved. Affirmations are nice, but there’s a reason why we resort to them. It’s because life isn’t how we would like it to be, and resorting to magical thinking seems like less work than actually taking action to change things.

Do you have a sense of entitlement?

See Assumptions 4 and 5. In every generation, some of us tend to believe we are special and deserve to have whatever we want without necessarily earning it. I don’t think it has much to do with when we were born. A sense of entitlement is something we are born with that gets nurtured or stifled, depending on environment. Sadly, dissertators who feel they are exempt from the rules don’t learn from their mistakes. Essential feedback goes unheeded because of arrogance.

Can we attribute the sense of entitlement that some of us have to generational differences? For example, I read that Millennials tend to have an inborn sense of entitlement, instilled in them by their well-meaning Baby Boomer parents. Baby Boomers, on the other hand, expect to work for what they get (and we expect to get everything we work for!). I think this might be nonsense.

Who knows? I’m not an expert on generational cohorts and personality traits; I’m just someone who recognizes from firsthand experience the hallmarks of a sense of entitlement.

How can you know if you have an inborn sense of entitlement?

Here’s a thought: When you are struggling to understand some dense article written by someone long dead, if you feel an overwhelming sense of something like, Why do I have to read this stupid stuff!? I should be exempt!  … take note. There’s your clue.

The point is, that pesky feeling that we are special, somehow exempt from the rules other people have to follow can blind us to reality. Some people call it terminal uniqueness. You are special (just like everybody else). But that doesn’t mean you deserve to have whatever you want, whenever you want it, without working for it.

If doctorates were so easy to earn, everyone would have one or two. You can earn yours, but only if you are willing to do the hard work required to achieve success.

If you are running into obstacles as you work on getting your dissertation proposal approved, maybe I can help. Check out my book.

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