Institutional obstacles to success: The dissertator’s dilemma

Recently, I signed on as a part-time remote academic editor for a for-profit higher education institution located somewhere in the Midwest. It’s not a big outfit. It resembles the university I attended back in 2005, before they sold out to a management company and started taking federal student loan money. I thought taking this job would help me stay connected to the institutional side of academics.

Over the course of a month, I have edited three chapters for three dissertators. What I’ve learned is that this higher education institution—no doubt in the name of customer service—has inadvertently erected barriers to dissertator success. Arbitrary guidelines have become obstacles—I’ll choose the three obstacles I’ve seen so far: using first person, choosing a document title, and receiving conflicting advice from checklists and templates.

Why can’t I use first-person?

Despite some clear, logical guidance on use of first person in the latest edition of the American Psychological Association’s publication manual, the dissertators at this institution are not allowed to refer to themselves in first-person more than twice in Chapter 3 (their Methodology chapter), and only in the section entitled “Role of the Researcher.” (That section is typically only found in qualitative and mixed-methods dissertations. I don’t know what quantitative dissertators are going to do.) Nowhere else. And preferably only once. Definitely not more than twice. We are counting!

What’s more, dissertators are not allowed to refer to themselves in the third-person at all. Typically, in academic writing, authors who aren’t allowed to use first-person will use third-person, usually “the researcher.” It’s very common to see statements such as “The researcher will employ a qualitative methodology” or “The researcher found that 40% of the moon is made of green cheese.” You’ve no doubt seen this in journal articles and published dissertations. It’s clunky, I agree, but it is well-accepted that we know who the author is referring to when we see “the researcher.”

This school, my new employer, does not allow “the researcher.” That leaves us with passive voice. That results in sentences such as “a qualitative methodology was employed” (apparently by some anonymous entity who will remain in the shadows). Lucky for me, APA style has loosened up since the 6th edition. Now we can write “The study found that 40% of the moon is made of green cheese” and not get busted for anthropomorphism. What a relief.

Still, my point is . . . what is my point? Every institution has its quirky guidelines. Somewhere in the annals of someone’s academic experience, some administrator got reamed for using first-person pronouns. Hence forward, no more “I,” “me,” “my,” or “mine.” Forget about claiming their role as the researcher. And thus, their personal shame has morphed into a prohibition codified into a dissertation template that disregards the lovely energy of current APA style.

Why can’t I write my own title?

This institution designates a specific approach to writing the dissertation title. The title should capture the essence of the study, mention the target population or sample groups, and should include the methodology. I have no problem with mentioning the population or sample, but unless the dissertation is about the methodology itself, it is often a waste of keyword real estate to include the methodology in the title.

A common title among dissertators at this for-profit institution seems to be something like Examining perceptions of colorful cheese on the moon: A qualitative phenomenological study. I’ve only edited three chapters so far, but “qualitative phenomenological study” seems to be trending. My Dissertation Chair would have shredded my submission, saying, get a clue, qualitative and phenomenological are redundant. Duh. My Chair was a methodologist. I don’t get the sense that the authors of this template and checklist are deeply steeped in methodology. I think they are deeply steeped in a desire to streamline the process of writing a dissertation so that even nonacademics can produce an acceptable manuscript, graduate, and get busy paying back their credit card loans.

This is what happens when institutions attempt to control for quality. In a better world, controlling for quality should apply to the customer service students receive from administrative staff. A quality-focused student-centric approach should include responsive faculty, easy-to-navigate learning platforms, technology that works, and a library that has what dissertators need. Controlling for dissertation quality by requiring all dissertators to write dissertations to conform with an arbitrary set of guidelines is not likely to produce robust studies that help practitioners improve their practices.

What should I do if there are conflicting guidelines?

Conflicting guidelines are the bane of an editor’s existence. They aren’t good for dissertators either. So much time and energy is wasted in tracking down the “right” format. In the dissertation checklist, dissertators learn that paragraphs can have more than three sentences, but not fewer. However, in the dissertation template, dissertators find out there is no set number of sentences in a paragraph. They should simply avoid paragraphs that consist of one sentence or more than one page. A Chair who follows the checklist will annoy the dissertator who follows the template. Who is right? The Chair, of course. Gatekeepers are always right, even when they are wrong.

Here’s another one. The checklist requires the dissertator to format the research questions with a half-inch indent. No, wait, according to the template, format the research questions with a first-line indent. Well, whatever we do, make sure you write out the number, like this: Research Question One. No, make that Research Question 1—follow APA style and use the numeral. This conflict is small, like fly crap in the pepper. However, when time is a factor, a dissertator can waste a lot of that precious resource trying to get guidance on something as ridiculous as formatting the research questions. It would be nice if we could simply follow APA style, but no such luck. When the gatekeeper prefers the “official” checklist and not the “official” template, we go with the gatekeeper’s preference.

What can a dissertator do?

These examples show what happens when an institution tries to manage and control quality by making all dissertations fit a specific format and style. If the required style complied with APA style, at least we could all (mostly) agree on a format. However, when institutional requirements depart from APA style, and moreover, if the requirements conflict among internal guidelines, what is a dissertator (or editor) to do?

I studied academic quality at several for-profit career colleges. I was working for one at the time, and I was peeved at what I perceived to be a tendency for administrators and owners to ignore education quality in their rabid pursuit of profit. For-profits want to operate like a business—efficient, lean, and profit-centric. It’s Business Administration 101. The owners and managers have taken the management courses. It ought to work. Except education is not transportation. Dissertators are not cars. Helping students earn their degrees is not like running a just-in-time assembly line. In the context of doctoral-level education, for-profits do a great disservice to their “customers” when they pretend that a one-size-fits-all approach to writing and formatting dissertations is going to produce robust dissertations that the institution can proudly publish.

What can a dissertator do?

Read like a maniac. Read dissertations in your field published by for-profit, private nonprofit, and public institutions. You will start to sense the guardrails that might or might not exist at your institution.

Talk to your Chair. Ask about style preferences. Get it in writing.

Study your institution’s templates and handbooks. Watch for discrepancies. I guarantee you will find some. Pay attention to both content requirements and formatting requirements.

Study the APA style guide (or whatever style guide you are required to use). Again, watch for discrepancies between your institution’s guidelines and APA style. And your Chair’s preferences.

Try not to take it personally. Jump through the hoops as best you can. Remember, this is just the beginning of your academic career. You have lots of time to create your own style.

Need an APA template for your dissertation proposal or manuscript? Mine are free. Free of charge and free of bugs. Download one or all four here.

May 30, 2021May 30, 2021

The universe does not negotiate

Whether we admit it or not, we all have beliefs about the nature of the universe. When I say “universe,” I don’t mean our tiny solar system and all the vast galaxies beyond. By “universe,” I mean whatever force works on us in our daily lives. Reality, maybe, is another word for it. As in, does the universe (AKA reality) care what I want or believe? Humans have asked this question since they painted with ochre and blood on cave walls.

The universe existed long before I came on the scene and presumably will continue to exist after I am gone. I am a blip. That means whenever I think my current writing project is so precious, so valuable, so momentous, so utterly guaranteed to change lives for the better . . . that surely the universe will support it, I know I’ve fallen into the trap of imagining I can negotiate with the universe. In this blogpost, I’m picking apart my beliefs to get down to the essence of my relationship to reality. I’m not a philosopher, so please don’t judge. My hope is that in this process, I will find the will to keep writing.

Belief 1: What I do matters to the universe

This belief exemplifies my molecular-level ethnocentricity. The crux of this belief is this: I’m human, therefore, I matter. By extension, what I do, no matter how small, matters. Do you believe this? I’m not sure I do. Oh, I know I have influence—I’ve conjured much havoc in my short lifespan. However, in the long run, in the big picture, have my actions mattered?

At a microlevel, I’ve mattered to a few people. I’ve made a difference in the lives of some friends, family members, and pets, perhaps a few strangers I’ve met and helped along the way. Maybe some of the projects I’ve delivered to the world have helped some struggling artists, some hapless dissertators. That’s nice. Does it matter? The few folks I’ve helped hardly constitute “the universe.”

That begs the question, how important is it that I believe what I do matters? Do I need to believe the universe cares if I can’t seem to find the motivation to write and would rather eat chocolate ice cream until I’m in a sugar coma? Clearly, I would like to believe I matter, if for no other reason than adopting this belief could serve as a weight-control strategy.

What about bees, birds, and bunnies? Do they matter? I think humans are starting to believe they do. Of course, believing they matter and acting as if they matter enough to keep them from going extinct are two different things.

When I was working on my doctorate (an eight-year slog through academic hell), I came to believe that nobody cared about my misery and frustration, especially not the universe. I learned that if I wanted to cross that “phinish” line, I would have to dredge up my own motivation, be my own advocate, and mint my own mojo because I certainly wasn’t going to get it from the universe (i.e., my dissertation chair and committee). At that for-profit university, doctoral students really were on their own.

Belief 2: I can influence the universe to work in my favor

If the universe cares what I do, it’s not hard to leap to the hopeful thought that I can manipulate it to do my bidding—or, at least, to favor me over others. Thus, it’s a short hop from I matter and what I do matters to yeah, sure, we all matter, but I matter more than anyone else, so I should be granted my wishes and desires. I blame demographics. I was born in a certain place and time. I somehow ended up in a certain body, with a certain gender and skin color. I didn’t plan it; I don’t think we get a choice on these demographic characteristics—sadly, these characteristics have led my brain toward certain beliefs, namely, that I matter more than you. I’m not proud of this propensity of my brain. However, it’s all I have to work with, and I continually work to be more aware of its shortcomings.

Well, what about the idea that if everyone matters, then none of us matters? Does your brain try to persuade you with this argument? But wait, how about those of us who are being persecuted, exploited, abused, and murdered by systemic inequities? Inequities matter because real people suffer real harm from real abuses. I do not want to be part of perpetuating systemic suffering. I come in peace.

Back to my gripe. What if the universe doesn’t actually care about me or my actions? (Say, could we devise a research project to test the question?) Even if the universe doesn’t care, is it still possible to influence it to lean toward seeing things my way? First, that statement assumes the universe has eyes, which, uh-oh, anthropomorphism strikes again, and second, attempting to influence outcomes is the endless quest of all lifeforms.

Humans are a superstitious bunch. We make sacrifices and pray to the gods of our misunderstanding in futile attempts to control our destinies. We make art to express our frustration and dedicate our tears to The Muse (another name for the universe). We dissertators seek validation from our dissertation chairs and committee members, from our peers, and from all those pompous peer-reviewed journals we are told we must court or die. We tout the books we’ve written and the papers we’ve published, as if the universe cares. Even our circle of friends and family don’t care all that much. How can they care? They don’t have time. They are busy worrying about what they are going to do next to influence the universe into fulfilling their hopes and dreams.

It’s not a moral failing to have and pursue hopes and dreams, nor is it a moral failing to choose not to pursue them. The universe (God? Fate?) distributes/imbues/endows/gives us talents (gifts?) and propensities, which we may or may not be in a position to fulfill, depending on demographics. In other words, it’s okay to get busy writing. It’s also okay to sit around and mope and do nothing. The universe (being a construct of my sputtering human brain) does not care.

Belief 3: How I feel matters

As a human driven almost totally by emotion, it’s hard to accept that my feelings have no influence on reality. Feelings are the centerpiece of my personal breakfast buffet. I’ve written in wobbly circles around this idea for a few years now. I circle back to it because some part of my brain insists that my emotions are real and can influence reality—therefore, they matter. My intellect “knows” emotions aren’t real but stumbles when asked to ignore them. My knee-jerk consideration about any decision, any action, any dilemma, is . . . how do I feel? This is so embarrassing.

It’s ridiculous to view life through only one lens. I wear glasses. Imagine if I knocked out one side and tried to drive. You should avoid northwest Tucson until I get my glasses fixed, just saying.

Maybe I’m judging myself too harshly for being a creature of emotions. I’m human. Emotions are the spice of human relationships. Living without emotions would be a living death. I don’t want to jettison my emotions (usually) but I would like to keep them in perspective—to remember that the universe doesn’t respond to how I feel. The universe responds to what I do.

The lesson of my musing is . . . get busy

I’m going to walk myself through a little exercise and hope that I’ll free up some brain space to get back to my writing project. You can try this yourself if you feel so inclined.

First, does the universe care what I do? (Begs the question, Is the universe sentient? Answer unknown, but I choose to believe NO)
Does it matter to my experience to know if the universe cares what I do? NO
Can I influence the universe through prayer, sacrifice, weeping, moaning, gnashing, pummeling, suffering, or writing late at night? In other words, can the universe be bought or bribed? NO
If the universe is oblivious to my emotional pleadings or intellectual arguments, how can I get what I want from it? I CAN’T
Conclusion: Actions produce outcomes. To the extent that I can claim the universe responds to anything, I would say the universe responds to action. Recommended action: GET BUSY.

Does it work? I guess so. I seem to be writing. I acted—therefore, I am experiencing the consequences of my actions. Something like that. Whether I’m writing the right things, whether I’m writing well, whether my circle of humans will care . . . argh! I can’t worry about that now. That is fodder for a future blogpost.

Let’s get back to writing!

January 1, 2020January 1, 2020

Year-end reflections from a former dissertator

It’s that time of year. You know what time I mean: The time when desperate dissertators swill coffee, scarf down holiday cookies, and hunker over their computers, trying to write as much as they can on their dissertation proposals or manuscripts before it’s time to go back to work.

Are you in a reflective mood? Maybe you feel pensive, a little melancholy, about the progress you’ve made this year. Maybe you feel chipper and optimistic about the great things to come. The end of the year is a fitting time to reflect on progress made in our scholarly endeavors and set our intentions for the future. I’m doing a little reflecting myself as we welcome in a new year.

A time to reflect on our scholarly progress

Are you making progress on the milestones in your Ph.D. program? It can be slow-going, I know. During most of the eight years of graduate school, I taught at a career college. Monday through Thursday, I taught morning classes, drove home for lunch, and drove back to campus for night classes. Fridays were for grading and prepping. I spent the rest of the weekend writing.

Faculty and students had a week off during the summer and a week for the winter holidays. Often we worked on Christmas Eve, right up to 10:20 p.m.

With such a haphazard writing schedule, I struggled to finish my dissertation proposal. Sometimes I felt I was making progress; other times, I felt I was writing in circles. Each time I uploaded my latest debacle to the course room, I would have a couple weeks to pick up the pieces of the rest of my life while I waited for my Chair to rip my paper to shreds.

Gradually, I morphed from student to scholar. After eight long, painful years, I defended the dissertation and earned the Ph.D. In the process, I learned how to write a lot.

Now, six years later, my writing projects are different but my goals are similar. I still have a lot to do. However, without the structure and discipline of a Ph.D. program, I have to rely on myself for motivation.

Reflecting on the past year, I feel as though I’ve been busy. What was I working on all year? I’m sure I did something! New Year’s Eve is a good time to stop and write a list.

I published the second book in the Desperate Dissertator Series. Aligning the Elements, seems to be finding a following. I guess I’m not the only one confounded by this challenging topic.
The article about rich pictures I published with The Qualitative Report at the end of 2018 has had 434 downloads this year. People like anything with pictures.
I published two articles (rants, really) with Medium on my favorite topic of for-profit higher education.
I made time for nonscholarly writing as well. I wrote a novel and finished a memoir, both of which I hope to publish in 2020.
I dusted off my teaching persona. I taught business classes to artists to help them bring their art into the world.

A time to set intentions for the future

Speaking of hope, now is the time to set our intentions for the future. I resist this endeavor mightily. In the past, my intentions have rarely been fulfilled. Yipes, look how I just used passive voice to describe my failure, as if I had nothing to do with it, as if some external force has repeatedly failed to “fulfill” my intentions. That bit of writing points out the vagueness of passive voice, as well as the problem with my goal-setting.

I think my intentions evaporated by February every year for three reasons: my goals were too broad, I wanted to be perfect, and I let my thoughts and feelings get in my way.

My goals were too broad

I failed to identify specific actions I could take to achieve my goals. Now, instead of setting an intention to “write a journal article,” I break the goal into small actions and I put them on my calendar. To write a journal article is my overarching objective, but to achieve the objective, I define the steps I need to take to get there:

research journals
choose one journal
identify the journal guidelines
write my research questions
write an outline of the article
gather current research
prepare the list of references
identify data sources
conduct the analysis
write up the results
write the discussion
write the introduction
submit to the journal

I wanted to be perfect

I fell into the trap of perfectionism. Of course, we all want what we write to be perfect the moment it flows from our brain to the page. If only! Even on a good day (when I’m well-rested, alert, and enthusiastic about writing), I rarely get it right. Human endeavors are fraught with imperfections. I’m not exempt.

During the past year, I accepted the fact that perfection is unattainable. I stopped obsessing over every little thing and focused on getting things done. It worked!

If you find yourself repeatedly editing the same assignment, or not writing at all, stop for a moment and do an internal check to see if a desire for perfection might be part of the cause. Nobody expects dissertators to be perfect. Some Chairs and universities set stringent guidelines, rules, and expectations, which we do our best to meet. However, the truth is, the dissertation is the beginning of our research careers, not the culmination. Since I graduated, I’ve learned a lot about writing, editing, and conducting research. You will, too. In the meantime, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be done.

I let thoughts and feelings hinder my progress

Like most humans, I have thoughts and feelings about many things. This past year, I have been honing the idea that my thoughts and feelings are superfluous to accomplishing my goals. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t think it’s possible for us to suppress all thoughts and feelings, nor do I suggest we try. However, sometimes I let my thoughts and feelings hinder my ability and willingness to take action. Therein lies my downfall.

Do you get trapped in negative thoughts? Do you let your feelings overwhelm you? I have come to believe it doesn’t really matter what we think and feel. The Universe doesn’t respond to our thoughts and feelings. It only responds to what we do. Our actions move us closer to our goals.

It seems like a no-brainer, I know. I’m a slow learner. I’m also a moper and a complainer. Unfortunately, not much gets done when I mope or complain. I can waste a lot of time complaining: not enough time, not enough money, no one understands, oh woe is me.

This past year, I’ve been experimenting with a new approach. I write out my thoughts and feelings about my project before I sit down to work. I do my whining and ranting on paper. Then I set it aside and get busy. When thoughts and feelings interrupt me (e.g., this will never work, this is stupid, I’m such a terrible writer, I’m hungry, where’s my cat), I drop them into my mental “do later” bucket and carry on with my work. I won’t say I’m always successful. Sometimes I have to take a nap. However, this past year, I’ve accomplished much more than I thought I would. That’s progress.

My hope for you

I hope you find some good writing time this winter. If not, I hope you make some time to write, good or not. Writing a few paragraphs is better than writing zero paragraphs. Put your writing time on your calendar. Make a date with yourself. Remember, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be done. The world needs your contribution. Please don’t give up.

I wish you all the best for a happy, healthy, productive new year.

Sources

Booton, C. M. (2018). Using rich pictures to verify, contradict, or enhance verbal data. The Qualitative Report, 23(11), 2835-2849. Retrieved from https://nsuworks.nova.edu/tqr/vol23/iss11/13

Booton, C. M. (2019). Aligning the elements [Desperate Dissertator Series, No. 2]. Portland, OR: Crossline Press. ISBN 978-1099364761.

Booton, C. M. (2019, July 5). R.I.P. Gainful employment rule. Medium. https://medium.com/@carolbooton/r-i-p-gainful-employment-rule-11115f38f33f

Booton, C. M. (2019, March 16). Friends don’t let friends enroll at for-profit colleges. Medium. https://medium.com/@carolbooton/friends-dont-let-friends-enroll-at-for-profit-colleges-4445a70ca12b