Completing the Doctorate: Reflections of a Recent Graduate.

Introduction

After completing her doctorate, Julie Kaomea is now an Assistant Professor in the Department of Teacher Education and Curriculum Studies at the University of Hawaii <thirugna@hawaii. edu>. She is a Native Hawaiian who focuses her scholarship on misrepresentations of Native people in school curricula. Her article is based on her recent experiences as a doctoral student struggling to complete her dissertation. However, instead of urging her fellow students to rush through the process, she recommends that they work through it slowly and derive from it as much learning as they can. Her metaphor of the tortoise and the hare is apt. As she points out, when it comes to completing the doctorate, "Slow and steady wins the race."

This article has been put in the "Student Voice" section because it deals with an issue of great interest to doctoral students and forms a nice complement to ,layne Higgins's article titled "The Art and Science of Avoiding the Dissertation" which was published in the summer 2000 issue of Academic Exchange Quarterly. Dr. Ben Varner, University of Northern Colorado, Academic Exchange Quarterly Senior Editor < lbvarne@bentley, unco. edu>.

In this article, [Author] reflects on her recent experience as a doctoral student. Through a witty analysis of a graduate student joke about a thesis-writing rabbit, she offers valuable suggestions to students embarking on their doctoral journeys. [Author] advises that when progressing through a graduate program, one should emulate the tortoise instead of the hare. Rather than setting one's sights on rapid completion of the degree, graduate students should take the journey slowly, immerse themselves in the experience, and revel in "the getting there." When it comes to graduate study, [Author] concludes, "Slow and steady wins the race."

A few months back, in the throes of dissertation writing and desperate for some mindless distraction or comic relief, I logged on to my e-mail to find a jewel of doctoral student humor awaiting me. It was a joke, or, more precisely, a fable, entitled "A Rabbit's Thesis."

It was clear from the document's numerous inscriptions that this anonymous piece had been forwarded from doctoral student to doctoral student across the country before arriving at my blurry computer screen in our tiny graduate student office at the University of Hawai'i. The most recent sender was a cyber colleague, a fellow doctoral student in Minnesota whom I've corresponded and commiserated with several times over e-mail, but am yet to meet personally. Her introductory message, cc'd to me and a dozen others, was short but sweet:

Dear Friends,

I hope your writing is going well. If not, take a tip from this e-mail fable. I got a kick out of it and think you will too!

I scrolled down and read with great interest.

The fable opens on a fine sunny day in the forest. A rabbit is sitting outside his burrow, tippy-tapping on his typewriter. Along comes a fox, out for a walk.

FOX: What are you working on? RABBIT: My thesis. FOX: Hmm... What's it about? RABBIT: Oh, I'm writing about how rabbits eat foxes. FOX: (Incredulous pause) That's ridiculous! Any fool knows that rabbits don't eat foxes. RABBIT: Sure they do, and I can prove it. Come with me.

They both disappear into the rabbit's burrow. After a few minutes, the rabbit returns, alone, to his typewriter and resumes typing. Soon a wolf comes along and stops to watch the hardworking rabbit.

WOLF: What's that you're writing? RABBIT: I'm doing a thesis on how rabbits eat wolves. WOLF: (Loud guffaws) You don't expect to get such rubbish published, do you? RABBIT: No problem. Do you want to see why?

The rabbit and the wolf go into the burrow, and again the rabbit returns by himself, after a few minutes, and goes back to typing. The scene cuts to inside the rabbit's burrow. In one corner of the burrow, there is a pile of fox bones. In another corner, a pile of wolf bones. On the other side of the room a huge lion is belching and picking his teeth. The End.

The moral of the story is: It doesn't matter what you choose for a thesis subject. It doesn't matter what you use for data. What does matter is who you have for a thesis advisor.

As I neared the end of the fable, a knowing smile spread across my face and I laughed out loud in complicit solidarity with my colleagues across the country whom I imagined laughing along with me. However, the frivolous escape provided by this humorous tale was brief and fleeting. For better or for worse, my years of graduate training have rendered me incapable of simply enjoying this clever piece of writing. Instead of appreciating the amusement it provided and moving on, I found myself scrolling back and forth through the document, reading and rereading every line, scrutinizing every word, in search of some hidden message, some deeper meaning. In the process, I unearthed a few suggestions which may be of interest to other graduate students embarking on their doctoral journeys as well as the dedicated faculty members committed to supporting them.

While there are a couple of areas where I will take issue with this fable, the main point is a good one. That is the importance of having an excellent dissertation advisor. I believe that as emerging scholars, if doctoral students are going to be making any significant contributions to educational knowledge and research, we, like the rabbit in the fable, will sometimes be making claims that go against prevailing opinions and may at first seem to others to be ridiculous or absurd. We may be employing research methods that are new and different, or drawing conclusions that challenge common perceptions and are therefore difficult for others to initially accept as valid.

I learned early on in my studies that in order to have a space where I was free to experiment in cutting-edge research, I really needed behind me a dissertation advisor who was somewhat of a lion. Not necessarily someone who would devour anyone who questioned my work, but someone who believed in me and the significance of my study and whose confidence could quell the fears of others on my committee who, due to their limited familiarity with me or my research topic, may have been less certain about my project.

I therefore thought very carefully when selecting an advisor. I took classes from a number of different professors, read their work, and paid special attention to how they related to their students and colleagues. In the end I selected someone whom I not only liked, admired and trusted as a person, but whom I also respected as a scholar, and who was well respected by others in the field. So in this regard, the fable holds a helpful lesson, that is, think carefully and thoughtfully when choosing your thesis advisor.

Another lesson of the fable concerns the selection of a thesis topic. On this point, I disagree with the fable in that I believe that one's choice of topic is extremely important. However, I don't have a lot of specific suggestions about how to find the right topic, as I think we all come about it in our own way.

Several years ago, when I was first entering my doctoral program, I attended an orientation session where the featured speaker gave two pieces of advice regarding the formulation of a thesis topic. The first piece of advice was to decide on a topic right away, upon entering the program--if you didn't have one already--so that you can gear your courses, course papers, and your entire program towards that topic right from the start. The other suggestion was to choose a topic that isn't highly political or controversial and isn't something that you're emotionally invested in. Instead, the speaker advised that we select a topic that we can proceed with dispassionately without expending a lot of emotional energy which might get in the way or impede our progress.

While both of these suggestions seem quite logical and may work for a lot of people, in the end neither suggestion seemed to work for me. It took me a good two years to come up with my dissertation topic and research methods--and I don't regret the delay at all. During those early years of courses, reading groups, and long, philosophical discussions with my peers and advisor, I grew a tremendous amount intellectually, and was eventually able to develop a research topic and method that was much more sophisticated than anything I would have been able to come up with originally.

In contradiction to the speaker's advice once more, I chose a highly political topic that I am passionate about. As a Native Hawaiian scholar and teacher educator who has gone through grade school as a minority in my own island home, I have always been concerned about the many ways in which our Native people have been misrepresented in school curricula. This concern has since become the focus of my dissertation. While the political implications of my study does make my writing a bit more complicated at times, my passion and commitment to this larger cause have enabled me to sustain my focus on this project and have motivated me to keep working day after day, week after week, month after month. Thus, in contrast to the teachings of the rabbit's thesis, I think that one's choice of dissertation topic is crucial. Above all else, it is important to select a topic that can sustain one's interest over time.

My final point addresses what is perhaps the most pressing question on the minds of students first entering a doctoral program: "How long will this take and how hard will it be?" If we look back to the fable once more, I think the rabbit gives a false impression in this regard, as he makes the dissertation writing process seem too quick, too simple, too easy. Throughout the fable, the rabbit seems to be "tippy-tapping" along at a rapid pace. He may get distracted for a minute or two by skeptical passers-by, but he simply takes them down to his burrow, where his advisor does away with them, then hops back out and resumes his typing.

In relaying this fable, I don't mean to suggest that the process of writing a thesis and getting a doctorate is easy, as I don't believe it should be. As doctoral students we should expect that our programs will be difficult--that there will be many times when we feel uncomfortable, unsure, unfit for the task, and far fewer times when we feel confident and certain about what we are doing. We should expect that the entire process will take a long time.

If I had written this fable, I would have made the protagonist a tortoise instead of a hare. Many students, when starting on their doctorates, aim to get through the program as quickly as possible. That's a reasonable goal.

Over time, however, I have learned to view the process from a different perspective. Instead of focusing my sights on rapid completion, I have committed myself to making gradual and steady progress while growing and enjoying the experience along the way.

I find it helpful to think of the doctoral journey in the same way that I would think about driving the road to Hana on the island of Maui. The Hana Highway is by many accounts the most spectacular coastal drive in Hawai'i. The winding cliff-side road cuts deep into lush valleys and back out above a rugged coastline, snaking its way around cascading waterfalls and fern covered hillsides.

If you wanted to, you could probably speed along the main drag from central Maui to the remote Hana village in just under two hours. But this is not a drive to rush. There are stream-side trails to hike, fresh water mountain pools to dip in, and historic sites to visit along the way. All this lay just a few minutes beyond the road for those with the time and inclination to stop and explore.

Those who race down the highway, never stopping to take in the sights or making any side trips off the main road, could get to Hana in record time. They'd arrive unscathed and unchanged, and probably greatly disappointed because they hadn't fully experienced the trip and therefore wouldn't know how to appreciate the place once they got there.

Contrary to travelers' inflated expectations, Hana is not a grand finale to this magnificent journey. It is a simple town, rural and sedate. The town's old-fashioned charm is most apparent to those who take their time getting there and prepare themselves for their arrival along the way.

I like to take the journey slowly, and revel and take joy in "the getting there." I might make a side trip to the black sand beach and stop off for a swim. Stop at a roadside stall to buy some fruit and chat with the locals. Or take a hike up the valley ridge to gain a different perspective on the coast.

I've certainly strayed a ways from our original topic, but I think I've made my point. When we make the decision to pursue our doctorates, we are embarking on a long and incredible journey. Never again in our lives will we likely be surrounded by so many opportunities and so many people who are wholeheartedly committed to helping us develop as scholars. Don't just race on through. Immerse yourself in this life and enjoy it. Take the time to get to know your colleagues and instructors. Get together with your peers after class. Form reading and writing groups. Go to conferences, send out papers to be published, apply for fellowships and grants. If we do all of this and immerse ourselves in the journey, we'll find that we grow and change along the way. When we do get our degrees and reach our final destination, our lives will be all the richer because of it.

In the end, "Slow and steady wins the race."

Dr. Julie Kaomea, University of Hawai'i at Manoa