The Philosophers' Cocoon

Seeking a UK PhD from a distance?

In our most recent "how can we help you?" thread, Bernardo Vargas writes:

I am recent graduate of an MA Phil. program in the US and I am looking at PhD programs in the UK. However, I am looking at distance-learning programs because of family circumstances such as the Uni. of Birmingham or Uni. of Leeds. However, from my understanding (and please correct me if I am wrong), programs like these in the UK are not funded. My question is, does anyone have any advice in regards to how to find funding for a PhD program in the UK given that I am a US citizen. Also, does anyone know of any programs that are funded (my interest is in philosophy of religion, aesthetics, and their relation to one another)? Thank you for any help or advice!

Amanda wrote in reply:

I hope someone can provide you helpful advice. But I would also recommend writing to the chair of the departments or graduate directors and asking. Each program will have some differences, so no one will know better than those currently working for the university.

I think this is a good suggestion, but I wonder what other people think. Does anyone have any helpful advice?

Grad question on philosophy of math

A reader writes in:

How much math and also what math should one learn, in order to do well (maybe even stand out) in the philosophy of math? I'm a philosophy PhD student who knows roughly the first three semesters of calculus for an undergraduate science or engineering major. I also know that there are philosophers who make notable contributions to the philosophy of math without much mathematical training. So, to be careful with my question, what are the best math classes for philosophers of math---who enjoy taking math classes---to take?

I don't know the answers to these questions. Do any of you?

Admitting 'wildcards' into grad programs?

I assume at least some of you have seen Eric Schwitzgebel's recent update to his 2007 series on applying to grad programs in philosophy. As many other philosophers have remarked on social media, some of the information Schwitzgebel shares is remarkable. Consider:

Looking at data on eight of our eleven admittees [at UC Riverside] this year (excluding one international applicant whose transcripts aren't comparable and two who quickly declined UCR for higher ranked programs), all but one had GPAs over 3.85 at their most recent institution, with a median GPA of 3.92/4.00. While it's not impossible to be admitted to a mid-ranked PhD program without stellar grades, it is rare. If you are applying as an undergraduate or M.A. student, you want straight As, or very close, in your upper-division philosophy classes. 

Many of my philosopher-friends on social media--many of whom are very successful and well-published--have remarked how, given the above numbers, they would almost certainly be rejected by such programs today. For my part, I had a 3.6 coming out of my undergrad at Tufts. Other friends of mine online noted that they got into philosophy grad programs with undergrad GPA's as low as a 2.7. Presumably, me and many other people who I've seen comment online would never be admitted to good programs with these kinds of numbers today. And I will be honest: this concerns me. Let me explain.

Expectations about becoming a professor

Last week, I wrote a post answering a recent undergraduate's query about managing expectations heading into grad school. In brief, I suggested to 'Cautiously Optimistic' that they take a great deal of care not to let their cautious optimism morph into reckless optimism - as I have seen many a grad student (including myself!) become socialized in grad school to expect an academic career, and hence not take enough care to ensure they have a viable 'plan B' if an academic career doesn't work out.

In today's post, I want to address another part of Cautiously Optimistic's query that I didn't focus on the first time. In their query, they wrote: 

I have gotten a taste for academic life (as a TA, presenting in conferences, etc.), and I enjoy producing scholarship and am most interested in working with students. While in high school, I job shadowed professors (in music and in English), since the profession appealed to me. So I would like to be a professor. (my italics)

Here is what I would like to focus on: Cautiously Optimistic's desire to be a professor on the basis of their 'taste of academic life.' As I explain below, I think undergraduates and early-term grad students (i.e. MA students and PhD students before the dissertation stage) can and often do have dramatically inaccurate expectations about what is actually involved in becoming and being a professor--that is, a dramatically inaccurate 'taste' of what academic life is actually like. Allow me to explain.

Query on transferring PhD programs

In our most recent "how can we help you?" thread, a reader writes:

Is there any specific advice about how to write your application for transferring Ph. D programs other than the obvious — don’t trash talk your old program, etc.?

I don't know, myself. I did transfer successfully from one program (Syracuse) to another (Arizona). But I don't recall doing anything special, aside from getting good letters from the faculty in the first program (who were supportive of my leaving, given that I was leaving in response to four of our professors--all of whom I planned to work with--being hired away by other programs over the course of a single year).

Aside from trying to get positive letters, though, I guess I only have one other piece of advice. When I applied to Arizona, I initially used a 'safe' but (I thought) clear and rigorous epistemology paper as my writing sample (one I had gotten an excellent grade on in a grad seminar). At one point, a member of the admissions committee (David Chalmers) asked me if I had any other writing samples to consider (perhaps because the committee was not too enthused with the first - though I don't know for sure). In response I sent a much more ambitious paper (on vagueness) as my second writing sample...and I was accepted into the program later that same day. So, for what it is worth, my sense then--and my sense now, based on my experiences on the academic job-market--is that people may be much more interested in ambitious rather than 'safe' work. But this, again, is just a hunch.

Anyway, that's all I have. Do you any of you have any helpful tips for someone interested in transferring PhD programs?

Managing expectations approaching grad school

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, Cautiously Optimistic writes:

I have just finished my undergraduate career and am soon to start my MA (a funded program). I have gotten a taste for academic life (as a TA, presenting in conferences, etc.), and I enjoy producing scholarship and am most interested in working with students. While in high school, I job shadowed professors (in music and in English), since the profession appealed to me. So I would like to be a professor. I have been told the healthiest approach is to go for it, manage my expectations, and have a good backup plan in the likely case it doesn’t work out. Any general advice as to how to manage your expectations, while not setting your heart on something that is acquired in large part through chance (rather than merit alone)?

This is a great query, and I will be curious to see how other readers respond. In brief, my suggestion would be to strongly guard oneself against unwarranted optimism - as I think unwarranted optimism can (and often does) lead people to not secure a good back-up plan while proceeding through grad school. Allow me to explain.

Changing the 'academia or bust' mindset

In my recent post, "Alt-ac: how our profession can do better?", I suggested that grad programs and professional organizations (such as the APA) should do more to foster alt-ac opportunities for their students. At the moment, our profession leads all too many its early-career members into an awful situation. As anyone who has gone to grad school or sent off undergrads to grad school knows, many people enter grad school with a false sense of their chances (youthful optimism is surely a very real thing). They then spend anywhere from 5-10+ years doing little else than academic philosophy, often while racking up student debt. Then, after 5-10+ years, only around only around 35% of those who finish the PhD end up getting permanent academic jobs. And the rest? As Ben Sheredos' paper on professional failure illustrates--and countless discussions both online and offline attest--those who don't end up with permanent academic jobs can end up feeling like abject failures utterly ill-equipped to make a living in the non-academic world. Insofar as this is our profession--and insofar as grad programs often seem to entice students to enroll with optimistic pictures of career success--I believe we should make changing this situation our responsibility. But how?

In my last post, I suggested there are a few simple things that grad programs and professional organizations might do:

1. Grad programs (placement directors, dissertation supervisors) could cultivate contact-lists of students of theirs who have entered non-academic industries, staying in touch with them personally for the purposes of helping students network for alt-ac opportunities.
2. Professional institutions (such as the APA) could also publish a "who's who" directory of philosophers in industry, as well as organize alt-ac networking events at major conferences (much like other disciplines do, where industry representatives have informational tables for potential job-candidates).

Readers who commented seemed to like these ideas. However, although I think simple steps like these might dramatically improve things, one major difficulty is getting them to happen.

Job-market catastrophizing?: a conversation

The other day, a reader in a Leiter-ranked grad program wrote in:

Does anyone know how the difficulty of obtaining a tenure-track philosophy job compares to that of starting one’s own business, becoming a popular writer, developing a patented product, ... any other kind of highly successful job that brings with it the joys of long-term employment security and doing what one loves? Asking the same question in more leading (but also more transparent) terms, does our profession’s culture of catastrophizing the job market have anything to do with the fact that many (certainly not all) philosophers seem to have somewhat affluent backgrounds—and might therefore be unaware of how tough the "job market" is for almost everyone in late capitalism? I appreciate warnings about the competitiveness of professional philosophy, but I find they are often hard to understand since they aren’t relativized to jobs that are comparable to philosophy jobs. A further way of phrasing my question: How much does the brutality of the philosophy job market have to do with philosophy, and how much does it have to do with the fact that philosophy jobs are really, really, really great jobs?

We then had an enlightening email conversation, which the reader suggested we might share here on the Cocoon. Here is that conversation.

A Phenomenology of Professional Failure

Ben Sheredos (UC San Diego) drew my attention earlier today to his manuscript, 'A Phenomenology of Professional Failure.' I gave it a read this afternoon, think it is very much relevant to some recent discussions we've had, and think it is well worth reading, both by early-career people and more advanced members of the profession. First, it may help prospective graduate students better understand and appreciate the actual stakes involved in pursuing a philosophy PhD. Second, it may help other people in Ben's situation--by perhaps helping them better understand their own experiences, as well as by letting them know they are not alone. Third, it may help more advanced members of the profession better understand and sympathize with the point-of-view of a seemingly growing number of early-career people disaffected by the profession. Finally, to that extent, perhaps it can lead our profession to do something that is surely long overdue: namely, better grapple with the fact that this is the kind of situation that all too many early-career members of our profession find themselves in. I hope I am not alone, when reading Ben's piece, in thinking we need to do better. For, to summarize just one of his piece's many takeaways, our profession seems professionalize the vast majority of its members (the 60+% who do not obtain tenure-track jobs) to regard themselves as failures. We need to (A) stop professionalizing our PhD students into conceiving themselves as failures if a permanent academic job doesn't work out (which I have heard is a very common attitude in PhD programs), and (B) do a much better job of professionalizing our PhD students so that they have greater capacities to be successful--for example, by better preparing them for opportunities for success outside of the academy. 

Anyway, although I found early sections of the paper to be a bit protracted, the latter parts (sections 5 and 6)--where Sheredos gets to explaining the phenomenology of professional failure--contain some pretty moving passages that got me thinking about how I have responded in certain discussions, and how to do so in the future. So, rather than summarize and comment on Sheredos' analysis, I'd like to simply quote some choice passages that struck me as particularly meaningful and worth reflecting on, and then open things up for discussion:

The costs of getting a tenure-track job

In a recent post at Daily Nous, L.A. Paul and John Quiggin suggest that when it comes to rationally deliberating about whether to enter a PhD program in philosophy,

The crucial question is whether students can prospectively assess how much they’ll disvalue not getting that tenure track job when the training is done (or, put differently, how much they’ll disvalue the life they’ll find themselves living as an unsuccessful job candidate). 

Paul & Quiggin's post very much resonated with me. I entered graduate school naively optimistic, thinking everything would go according to plan: that I would finish the PhD quickly, get a tenure-track job without a problem, and get tenure. Oh how different the reality was. I struggled to finish my degree, getting stuck at the dissertation stage (like all too many grad students do), and then after I finally finished the degree I grappled with the job-market for seven years. There were so many times--both in grad school and beyond--that I wished I could go back in time and knock some sense into my earlier self, convincing him to stay the heck away from entering a philosophy PhD program.

However, are Paul and Quiggan correct that 'the crucial question' is whether students can prospectively assess how much they'll disvalue not getting a tenure-track job? Some recent experiences have led me to think the crucial question is much more complex--and in some ways much more disturbing--than this. Allow me to explain, by way of two stories.

Doing better for our graduate students, making a PhD in philosophy worth it

This story, by Rachel Williams, is simply entitled "A PhD in philosophy was not worth it".  The title reflects the contents well. The story's familiar, but that does not make it less sad:  Rachel Williams writes about the disillusionment, lost opportunities, low wages, and a profession that looks increasingly hostile and unattractive.  She lists the problems that plague the profession: the obsession with brilliance, the editorial buddy circles, publish or perish culture, the slim chances of getting a tenure track job out of grad school, or at all (after years of precarious employment), and the lack of support from peers or mentors. 

Suppose you make it in the profession. By 'make it', we will typically mean that someone is in their mid or late thirties by the time they land a tenure track job in a geographical area they will often not have chosen to live in, working on a 3/3 or even 4/4 course load, and earning a starting salary of anywhere between 49 and 76k (often the lower part of this range), which only slowly inches up over the years. While that is still a decent salary, you have to take into account the years of lower earnings and the risk in the market. 

What if you do not make it? Did you then just waste at least six years (at least, in the US) on graduate school that could have been spent better elsewhere? "You don’t really know what academic philosophy is really like before it’s too late." - Williams writes, regretting her lack of opportunities and lack of money in her retirement fund at age 32. 

The solution, some might argue, is to just have fewer PhDs in philosophy. But I'm not at all sure that is a good idea. If we restrict the number of PhDs, the barriers to entry to the profession will shift to earlier on in the process, and it will be more difficult for people without the cultural, economic and social capital (middle class, white, etc) to do a PhD in philosophy. Moreover, I think that a PhD in philosophy has value. I've interviewed people who went to grad school in philosophy who are successful writers of novels and have produced and co-written TV series,  as well as career coaches, statisticians, computer programmers, and  I was recently filmed for television series on science and religion by someone who studied (but did not complete) a Philosophy PhD. A Philosophy PhD is currently running for Member of the European Parliament (see here for an article in Dutch).  

I will be placement officer next year, so I'm thinking about ways to help support our grad students. Absolutely, if our graduate students see academia as their plan A, we should support them in that and help them to achieve this goal. We should be realistic about the range of jobs on offer (not every job is a job at a research-intensive, prestigious university; most aren't and that is fine) and we should help them to prepare and tailor their CV and materials for the places they want to land jobs at. 

But if our graduate students feel some hesitation at academia over time, it is important to recognize that and to support them in alternative career choices. Typically, in the humanities (though I am not aware of any empirical work on this and would like to hear about it), it seems to me people mostly start graduate school wanting to have an academic career. But over time, some grad students start doubting that teaching is for them, or that writing papers is for them, or that the combination of teaching and research really suits them. And then we should also support them in that. Maybe it is prudent to talk about non-academic placement in any case, just as a sensible plan B. 

Supporting struggling students

In the Daily Nous comments thread to Eric Schwitzgebel's excellent post a last month entitled, "Seven Principles of Humane PhD Advising", Chris Surprenant writes:

If [PhD students] lack motivation to complete their work while in graduate school, they’re not cut out to be professional academics...If folks can’t cut it, the sooner they learn that the better.

I have heard this sort of thing said many times. I've even heard that some graduate programs effectively codify something like it as a program policy, pressuring students to leave the program relatively early on if they are not making "adequate progress." Although I think the intent behind attitudes and policies like these may be good--aiming to save students "not cut out" for academic philosophy from wasting valuable time in their life pursuing it--I have nevertheless always bristled at this way of thinking. Reading Michael Huemer's (Colorado) new post, "A Philosopher Squeaks By", the other day helped me to clarify why. Allow me to explain.

In his post, Huemer details how "I barely made it in the profession": how he squeaked into graduate school, how get barely got an academic job, how many of his articles "have been hated by referees", and so on. On reading Huemer's story, my initial reaction was that he seems to have fared a heck of a lot better than other people who barely made it in the profession. For example, as I reported several years ago, in her 2014 APA Dewey Lecture aptly entitled, "Accidents", Ruth Millikan detailed how she had to walk out of a grad school exam for personal reasons (p. 4), how she entered grad school at Yale as only one of two women in a class of 22 students and one of only two students without a fellowship (pp. 4-5), how her dissertation supervisor left her program before she had made any real progress on the dissertation (p. 5), how during grad school she had a serious back injury, two children, a divorce, spent a summer in mental hospital, and how her dissertation took her 5 years (!) to complete, with basically no supervision (pp. 5-6). 

I've read numerous stories similar to Huemer's and Millikan's. A few years ago, I remember reading an APA address where Charles Mills detailed how he barely squeaked into the profession. Or consider Rae Langton's (Cambridge) self-confessed "career lowlights":

At Sydney, my background in Philosophy was deemed so poor I needed a remedial extra year. At Princeton, my PhD dissertation was initially failed, though (somewhat awkwardly) OUP had meanwhile decided to publish it, as Kantian Humility (see Books).

Prospective-student visits and PhD advisors

In our most recent "how can we help you?" thread, Kent writes:

I'm a current MA student about to visit PhD programs, and I've realized that I have no idea what to say in meetings with potential faculty advisors. I've thought about trying to read some of their work beforehand, but I'm not sure how discussing that would help me (other than perhaps getting a handle on their methodological approach). I'm concerned about quality of advisement and so on, but I don't want to ask questions that might come off as indelicate or rude. Some guidance would be much appreciated!

Great query. In my experience, a student's eventual choice of PhD supervisor is absolutely vital. Some supervisors are effective, churning our successful PhDs and job-candidates left and right. Other supervisors, on the other hand, are truly awful--routinely having students who either never graduate or fail to be competitive on the job-market due to poor mentoring.

Being good at being good at philosophy

A guest post by Ian James Kidd, University of Nottingham

 Some years ago, a then-colleague would occasionally spot me sitting working in a coffee shop and join me to chat. Sometimes, he would ask about whichever paper I was writing, and often offer to take a look. After reading the first couple of paragraphs, my colleague would purse his lips, shake his head, and say, “No, you haven’t quite got it yet.”

What I hadn’t ‘got’ was the skill of crafting a good paper – a skill not only possessed but had fully mastered by my well-published colleague. Almost every paper he wrote soon appeared in the ‘top’ journals, so similarly mastering that skill would’ve supercharged my chances of securing a postdoc or a permanent job. Unfortunately, not once did my then-colleague offer any advice on the skill of crafting a paper, leaving me without a crucial skill – that of translating one’s philosophical ideas into the form of a publishable journal article.

I offer this recollection to illustrate what seems to be a crucial distinction between being good at philosophy and being good at academic philosophy. Sitting in that coffee shop, what I lacked wasn’t the ability to come up with good and useful philosophical ideas (one thing my then-colleague did, at the least, affirm). I lacked the specific performative academic competence needed to successfully understand and exploit the norms and structures of academic philosophy. Without that specific competence, my philosophical abilities were not able to do any professional work for me.

Clearly, there are many super philosophers out there, who can think widely, deeply, and clearly about aspects of existence and our place within it. The problem is that many of them may be good at philosophy but are not always good at academic philosophy – while they have a love of wisdom or craving to understand, what they lack are the practical and professional abilities to enact their philosophising within the accepted forms and norms of academia. Crucially, I don’t say this as a criticism of those philosophers - quite the opposite! My concern is that many good philosophers aren’t being helped consistently to also become good academic philosophers. Before speculating on what one can do about this, let me fill out the distinction a little.

Seeking out external committee-members

A reader writes in:

I'm in a low-ranked PhD program located in a geographical area surrounded by much larger, more highly ranked departments with lots of rockstar faculty in my AOS (metaphysics). I would really like--no--I would LOVE, when the time comes, to have them on my committee. I know people do this from time-to-time. But what's appropriate? How proactive should one be? What's appropriate assertion, vs. being inappropriate/ annoying? What I'm most interested in hearing is if any faculty who check this blog have received such contact from graduate students in nearby departments. How did the exchange come across on your end? 

I'll give my own thoughts in a moment. But given that this reader is most interested in hearing from faculty with some experience in these matters, are there any out there willing to weigh in?

Success stories - what you love about academic philosophy and why you decided to stay put

The exploitation of academics in precarious positions, particularly adjuncts but also graduate students, has given rise to a remarkable literary non-fiction subgenre: the quit lit.

Quit lit are heartfelt pieces where academics vent their frustration. I find these pieces very useful. They help us critically evaluate some of the assumptions academics make, such as that a PhD is required to be a good philosopher (this piece by Rachel Williams argues it isn't). This piece by Eugene Sun Park, on why he quit his PhD programme, challenges the homogeneity in academic philosophy and lack of viewpoints outside of the western canon. And this classic piece by Rebecca Schuman  (not a philosopher but a German scholar) advises against graduate school.

I'm on board with all of that but sometimes it is also useful to share stories of success, particularly by people who didn't go to prestigious schools, who struggled and who succeeded. Who in spite of the odds stacked so heavily against them still thought academia is worth it and derive joy from being an academic philosopher. I believe those stories have their place too (hence our long job market journeys feature a while back), and I'd be interested to hear readers' stories about (either in comments or send to us). Such stories can help people in difficult situations see that it does sometimes pay off to stay--although of course, there is a risk in doing so--and for busy people who feel a bit overwhelmed by it all why they are academics in the first place.

So with that in mind I want to hear stories about: 

• you staying in academia, and ending up not regretting it
• accomplishments you got in spite of difficulties (including e.g., health issues, poverty)
• what you enjoy about academic philosophy

You  can comment anonymously but we need a real email address (which we won't reveal).

Writing service

Pendaran Roberts (Warwick) writes in:

I saw that one blog post about the student asking for help with their writing sample and another blog post about non-native English speakers. I was thinking that my skills and experience could be of service to people. Maybe you could share the below with your readers? I’d be a good resource and could provide a personalized experience. I was thinking of trying to do this kind of work part-time to help people. 

_____________________

I am offering a service where I help philosophers develop their writing samples and perfect their writing more generally. I have a PhD in Philosophy from a UK university but know both US and UK English. I have a dozen academic publications, many in top 20 journals (https://philpeople.org/profiles/pendaran-roberts). I can help you to achieve your academic writing goals to get into a PhD program or to get your ideas published. 

Please just email me at pendaran@mac.com. We can discuss what help exactly you need and agree on a fee. My help can range from merely proofreading your work to in-depth coaching to develop your academic writing ability.

If you are a non-native speaker, I am also happy to be of service. I am not an English teacher but can read through work, correct English mistakes, and help with the overall feel of your writing. 

Query on resources to improve writing

In our most recent "how can we help you?" thread, a reader writes:

I recently graduated with a MA and applied to very few PhD programs during fall of 2017. I didn't get in any of them. I didn't expect to because I kind of had a feeling that my writing sample was weak. Very weak. However, I'm trying again this time around, but with a better sample (hopefully). So, i was wondering whether anybody on here knew of good resources for someone like me to get better at writing. Groups people who can help etc. Or, if there are workshops anywhere in the country that help with writing for PhD admission. Any resource, guide or advice will be very helpful. I'm more or less on my own since I'm no longer in school and my professors from my previous school have their hands full with their current students. So, anything will be helpful. Thanks.

I'm not personally aware of particular resources, but am curious whether readers do. The only real advice I have is to write, and write a lot--and to get feedback from anyone who's willing to take the time to read your stuff. Writing, like anything else, takes a ton of practice. I've rewritten particular papers from scratch upwards of a dozen times. I also draft up papers that I go on to do nothing with. To me, doing these things isn't a waste of time. It's practice! My experience, at any rate, is that the more one writes, the more one's writing skills are likely to improve. 

Still, I know this doesn't really answer the reader's particular query. So, what do you all think? Do you know of any good resources for improving one's writing--particularly as it pertains to putting together a good writing sample for PhD programs?

Ethics & Legal Studies at Wharton (UPenn)

Robert Hughes (University of Pennsylvania) writes in:

I am writing to ask if you would be willing to include a post in The Philosophers’ Cocoon about the Ph.D. in Ethics & Legal Studies at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. This is an opportunity for aspiring academic ethicists that some talented candidates may not know about.

Our Ph.D. program is housed in a business school, and it is intended for students who plan to seek tenure-track positions at business schools or law schools. Though the program is interdisciplinary, philosophical normative business ethics is a major focus of the program.

The department includes six tenured or tenure-track philosophers, all of whom specialize in moral, political, or legal philosophy. Our faculty have published in top tier philosophy journals including Ethics, Philosophy & Public Affairs, Journal of Political Philosophy, Journal of Philosophy, Philosophical Studies, Analysis, and Mind, in addition to top business ethics and applied ethics journals including Business Ethics Quarterly, Journal of Business Ethics, Economics and Philosophy, Bioethics, and Journal of Applied Philosophy.

Query on grad program attrition

Mike Titelbaum (University of Wisconsin-Madison) wrote in by email:

I am a big fan of The Philosophers' Cocoon, and occasionally jump into the comments section...[But] There's something that occasionally comes up on Cocoon threads and elsewhere that bothers me...

Often when we counsel students comparing graduate schools, we suggest that they look (among other things) at the percentage of admits who complete the program. The underlying implication seems to be that higher completion rates indicate a better program. But this seems to me out of step with another discourse floating around the internet in general and the Cocoon in particular—that deciding as a PhD student that you don't want to become an academic isn't a failure in any sense.

Sometimes a department has a low completion rate because they're unsupportive, are chasing out certain students, or have a toxic environment. But PhD students leave programs for many reasons, including that the program has done a good job of revealing to them what the academic life is like, and they've decided it isn't the life for them (even though it might be available to them). If a department was pressuring people to stay and finish their degree despite having had such a realization, that would enhance their completion rate but it seems to me would be the kind of department that I would discourage a student from joining.

There's also presumably a big selection effect here. Different departments wind up with different kinds of students.  Some populations might be more inclined to decide that academia isn't for them and leave their program before completing. That would hurt a department's completion rate, but perhaps indicate nothing bad about how the department treats students once they arrive. In fact, if a department is more willing to take a risk on certain types of students who might not finish, that might be a good sign about that department's atmosphere and goals.

As I said, this is just something that's been bothering me. I have absolutely no empirical data on any of this, and not even much anecdotal data. But if you're measuring a department by its completion rate, then you're assuming the sole goal of a PhD program is to create PhDs (and possibly then academics). Perhaps instead the first goal of a PhD program should be to help students figure out whether writing a dissertation, completing a PhD, and then becoming an academic is the right path for them?

I think Mike raises really good points here. In email discussion, I suggested that perhaps the best thing to do is to compile and make more transparent both qualitative and quantitative data regarding attrition and job-placemtn.

Query on applying for dissertation fellowships

In the comments section of our most recent "how can we help you?" thread, Morgan Thompson writes:

I'd be curious to hear advice about applying for dissertation fellowships, especially how to pitch one's dissertation proposal/summary to both philosophers and non-philosophers.

Good query! I'm probably not the best person to ask here, as I don't have any experience evaluating fellowship applications. However, I do have experience serving on several search committees for academic jobs, and in my experience candidate research statements often run into the following programs:

1. Too much jargon (using technical terms that outsiders may not understand).
2. Too much intricacy that only specialists are likely to understand.
3. Not enough time spent explaining in a down-to-earth, convincing way why the project matters.

While again I haven't read dissertation fellowship applications, I would not be surprised if they often run into similar problems. My general thought on these kinds of things--research statements and applications in general--is that it is vital to to explain and motivate one's research in simple, down-to-earth terms. You can't just assume that because you or people in your subfield think a problem is important that any odd reader will feel the same way. You need to be able to explain the importance of the problem and the importance of your research program in a way that anyone can grasp. This isn't easy--but in my experience it is what effective research statements and the like tend to do.

But these are just my thoughts. What are yours, particularly those of you who have either evaluated dissertation fellowship applications or been successful in applying for one?

Ferrin on 'Surviving the PhD'

Asia Ferrin (American University) has an informative post at Diverse Issues in Higher Education entitled, 'Getting to the Other Side: Surviving the PhD.' It contains some helpful info about what grad school is like, some of the challenges PhD students face, and some helpful tips for doing well. I would advise anyone considering or pursuing a PhD to check it out!

Choosing PhD programs: further issues to consider

There is an interesting discussion at Daily Nous regarding the importance of different kinds of teaching experience for the job-market. Readers may recall that the importance of teaching experience is something I discussed in the Cocoon's Secret Lives of Search Committees series. As I noted there, having served on several search committees at a teaching-focused institution, my sense is that many PhD programs do not emphasize teaching experience nearly enough. Teaching focused departments are looking for candidates who have more experience than just TA-ing. They are looking for candidates who have independent teaching experience--and breadth of it at that (since teaching-focused departments often need faculty who are prepared to teach many different classes, including ones outside of their AOS).

You should never, ever, edit a volume and other blanket early career advice

Regularly, I see well-meaning and evidence-based advice for early-career people along the following lines

• Don't ever edit a volume. It's a lot more trouble than it's worth. It hardly counts for tenure/finding a job.
• Don't ever write a book review. Okay, perhaps if you really wanted to read this book in depth anyway, but even then, it's a waste of time. It doesn't help you network, it doesn't help you for finding a tenure track job, it does not count for tenure or promotion. Worse, if you're early career and you have mainly book reviews it might signal you are not able to write "real" papers. 
• Instead, you should focus on getting either (1) a single-authored paper in a top-5 (okay, maybe top-10) general philosophy journal or (2) a book contract for your single-authored monograph with OUP or a publisher with prestige. Those are things that will make you stand out. 

Etc. 

The question is: to what extent is such blanket career advice warranted? Obviously, if your CV is filled with book reviews and not a single paper, then it's going to raise questions and weaken your file. But the blanket advice seems to not take into account the broader experiences gained from editing volumes or writing book reviews.

Another kind of attrition rate

In my recent post addressing a reader's query on how to choose between PhD programs, I suggested the reader should focus less on the reputation of a program or particular advisor and instead focus more on programs' attrition rate (i.e. how many people don't finish the program) and job-placement rate. The other day, however, an anonymous comment inadvertently drew my attention to another salient issue that in my experience is rarely discussed: what I will (for lack of better words) call post-PhD attrition rates. Allow me to explain what I mean, and why I think it may be good as a new disciplinary norm to expect programs to track and make them clear on their placement webpages.

Would you choose your AOS again?

In the comments section of our most recent "how can we help you?" thread, Amanda asks: "if you were starting your PhD (in philosophy) over again, would you study the same AOS, why or why not?" 

Great question! A while back at an Eastern APA meeting, I had a good discussion with another early-career philosopher who said he thought many grad students don't give their choice of AOS nearly enough thought. As he put it, many of the grad students he knew just picked whatever AOS interested them the most. While there may be something admirably authentic about this, his sense was that many of them found themselves in a bad position later on because they picked an AOS where there were too few jobs. And indeed, readers may recall I've done some informal reporting in recent years of jobs by AOS...and the data are pretty striking. Some AOS (particularly ethics) have consistently comprised a large proportion of advertised jobs, whereas other AOS (aesthetics and "core" areas) appear to have far fewer jobs available. For this reason and others, I agree with Amanda: it would be great to hear how people feel about their choice of AOS in retrospect. Here, in brief, is my answer...

Knowing what you now know, would you go to graduate school?

At a conference dinner recently, a non-academic spouse to one of the keynote speakers asked us the following question: if you had to do it all over again, would you go to graduate school? I subsequently posted the question on FaceBook where it generated an interesting range of responses among fellow academic philosophers (and see also this excellent blogpost with musings on the topic by Marcus Arvan). Recently, I did an interview for Clifford Sosis' What's it like to be a philosopher? (currently only for Patreon supporters, but the link will become freely available next week) - I had a choice, as I got an offer to teach at a secondary school (art) at the same time when my graduate funding came through. 

Now obviously a question like "Would you do it all over again?" is prone to commitment bias, and is more likely to be answered in the affirmative on a semi-public forum like Facebook. Nevertheless, the range of responses was intriguing. 

Many of my respondents expressed a sense of meaningfulness, and joy in their work, while acknowledging conditions aren't as good as they used to be and likely to deteriorate. This was indeed the dominant theme--a love for research in particular, also for teaching, not so much for grading and administration. 

Lots I can gripe about with the deteriorating labor conditions and assessment horror but I’m still getting paid to read lots of new books and discuss them with great people. It’s a shock to realize how few people will read anything you publish and when non-drinking reveals that your introverted self has never really enjoyed conferences after all. But I’m still able to try to realize truth, goodness, and beauty with other people on their path I think better than I would (given my set of gifts and difficulties) in any other career. So I still feel very lucky.

Poll: would you still choose to pursue a philosophy PhD?

In light of the discussion in the comments section of our recent query by an undergraduate considering grad programs in philosophy, I thought it might be interesting to run an informal poll. Specifically, I'm curious how many of our readers who entered PhD programs in philosophy would make the same choice if they could go back in time and make the decision again.

Obviously, this is an unscientific poll and there might be significant self-selection effects, so I encourage readers (particularly those considering grad school in philosophy) to take poll results with a grain of salt. Nevertheless, I thought it might be interesting to gauge our readers' thoughts. I respectfully ask readers to answer the poll honestly, and to fill it out only once. The poll is open to those and only those who entered a PhD program in philosophy, regardless of whether they finished their program. Finally, if you would like to briefly share why you answered the poll the way you did in the comments section (in a manner consistent with the blog's Mission), please do! 

If you pursued a PhD in philosophy, would you do it again?

Definitely

 

Probably

 

Unsure

 

Probably Not

 

Definitely Not

 

 

pollcode.com free polls

Undergraduate query on grad school

In the comments of our newest "how can we help you?" thread, Jonathan Lauret writes:

...I'm an undergraduate student majoring in philosophy, and I'm entering into the process of looking for what graduate schools to apply to.

I just today have been scanning through the internet for information on graduate school situations involving philosophy, and the tone is almost always very disheartening and depressing due to a number of given reasons. Most posts or blogs wrote about really rough conditions involving the application/hiring process, the amount of experience required for a very punishing and unrewarding job (typically), and the sheer rarity of any resulting enjoyable professorial position. 
I don't know what exactly I'm looking for in regards to the particular positions out there for graduates in philosophy. I do know that I love the discipline, that I hold it in value not due to some sort of desire to be famous or great or sage-like, but to get a better grasp or understanding of the world I live in. I feel as though teaching and talking to students/other people who have their own ideas and feelings on these things will bring me what I'm looking for in a profession.

I guess the question that comes from all this may be, where do these sorts of feelings fit into the grand scheme of going into graduate school and later entering the academic job market?

I think this is a great query, in part because we might be able to help Jonathan, but also because this is a kind of inquiry I expect a lot of get fairly often from undergraduates (I know I do). Indeed, I'm hoping a lot of you chime in, as perhaps this thread can function as an online compendium of different people's responses to these kinds of questions--one we might direct our undergraduates to in the future to hear different perspectives on the issue!

How another discipline mentors its grad students

Earlier this evening, I accompanied my spouse, a PhD candidate in Industrial-Organizational Psychology, to the reception at her discipline's major regional conference (akin to our Eastern APA). As I was chatting with her advisor, he mentioned the previous day at the conference. I was a bit surprised, as my spouse told me the conference began today. So, I asked him, "Wait, how many days is this conference?" He told me the conference was three days long, beginning today--but that there were also two pre-conference days. I'd assumed that the pre-conference days were probably special workshops (i.e. invited mini-conferences on hot topics), of the sort common in philosophy these days. Still, I was curious, so I asked him what was the deal with the two pre-conference days. He said, "Oh, those are the pre-doc and post-doc consortium days?" Because I had no idea what that meant, I told him, "I have no idea what that means." That's when he told me.

Apparently, the first day of the annual pre-conference (the pre-doc consortium) is an entire day of workshops for undergraduates and Masters students considering applying to PhD programs. The discipline's organization (i.e. their "APA") arranges for professors from all different kinds of programs around the country to hold seminars on applying to programs, what to expect if you get in a PhD program, how to succeed in PhD programs, what the facts are about academic and non-academic job markets (so that people know their job-prospects before applying to PhD programs), and so on. 

That's the first day. The second pre-conference day (the post-doc consortium) is an entire day of workshops for current PhD students and job-candidates, where professors from programs from around the country hold sessions on finding academic jobs, finding non-academic jobs (including networking), succeeding in research, developing teaching skills, and many other things too apparently.

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 9: When It's Over

The final suggestion I offered in the previous post in this series was that graduate students should not expect to be overjoyed when their dissertation is finished, but I said nothing about what graduate students can expect after they’ve finished their dissertation. So what is post-dissertation life like?

In the short term, you’ll probably feel some sense of relief. From recent PhDs I have spoken to, this feeling is pretty common. It’s not just that you’re freed from the burden of dissertation work –  though that’s obviously part of the story – but rather that you’re freed from the burden of graduate school. Think for a moment about how many hoops you have to jump through to get a PhD: course requirements, teaching assignments, comprehensive examinations, a language requirement, the dissertation, and perhaps more. You have some flexibility with regard to how you meet some of these requirements, but it’s often fairly limited. As a teaching assistant, for instance, you are unlikely to have much input in assigned readings or methods of assessment that are used in the class; the professor will usually make those judgments without your input. As another example, you don’t have much (if any) say in what graduate courses are offered each term, and in smaller programs, course offerings could be fairly limited.

It’s a safe bet that some of these requirements won’t seem so burdensome, since you’re likely to enjoy fulfilling some of them, but after toiling away at them for the better part of a decade, you will be ready to be done with them. The first day you wake up and realize you have no graduate school requirements on the agenda can bring a sense of relaxation that hasn’t been felt in a long time.

That being said, do not expect the semester after your defense to be easy, assuming that you’re pursuing long-term academic employment. Most people end up in a temporary position for their first job, so there’s not a ton of time to relax before you’re back to polishing job applications and trying to add to your CV. Some experience a post-dissertation slump, often as a result of no longer having a grand project that demands their attention and provides structure to their priorities. Even if that doesn’t happen to you, it’s safe to say that your workload won’t significantly lighten after the dissertation concludes. In some respects (e.g., increased teaching responsibilities), your first position will likely require more work than what you were required to do as a graduate student.

Nevertheless, even without feeling overjoyed at the completion of your dissertation or being freed from the labors of academic life, completing the dissertation still provides a persistent source of gratification over time. Most of the good feelings associated with academic achievements do not come from immediate euphoria or the ongoing process of their completion. (This is true even in cases where portions of that process are enjoyable: I generally like writing, but this enjoyment is easily overwhelmed by tedium when addressing a revise-and-resubmit verdict or preparing a manuscript for submission to its third or fourth venue.) Instead, the satisfaction that comes from most academic achievements is a stable, gradually accumulating sense of accomplishment. The dissertation, so far as I can tell, is not an exception to this rule.

Grad program transfer thread

In the comments section of last month's "how can we help you?" post, one reader suggested it might be helpful to have a thread on transferring between grad programs. A reader in this thread then asked if I could say a little bit about how I transferred to Arizona. Because transferring programs involves unique challenges, I agree that it might indeed be a good idea to have a thread on this. So, why don't those of us who transferred programs share our stories?

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 8: Lessons Learned

I’ve spent prior posts in this series recapping various aspects of writing the dissertation that can make the process difficult. Since these have been scattered across posts over the past few months, it’s worth recapping them:

1. The dissertation is a different kind of project than most anything else one does in graduate school.
   • The dissertation lacks rigid structure and concrete deadlines.
   • The dissertation is a much larger project  than most others pursued in graduate school.
   • There is more riding on the completion of the dissertation than any other single project in graduate school.
   • Work on the dissertation cannot be easily postponed.
2. The need to pursue publication (to be competitive on the job market) can lead to an abundance of non-dissertation commitments late in graduate school.
3. You will most likely need to go on the job market at least once while your dissertation is still unfinished.
4. Your dissertation work may lead you to lose your enjoyment of  writing.
5. Your dissertation work can be impeded by personal crises (e.g., financial difficulties, health problems, mental illness, relationship struggles).

After all that, I briefly described how I actually got the dissertation done in the end. So what are the lessons that can be taken away from all this to help graduate students prepare for the dissertation stage and ultimately complete it? Here are a few suggestions.

Which grad-program transfer credit policies are best?

Recently, one of our readers shared a post-hoc admissions dilemma about transfer credit. In brief, they accepted an offer of admission to a PhD program believing there to be a reasonable chance of transferring credits from their previous institution. However, once being admitted, they were initially informed that their credits would not transfer - so they wrote into us at the Cocoon asking us for advice. A few days later, the same reader wrote in with an update: their program reconsidered, and accepted one (but only one) of their previous courses. That's good news for them of course (as Amanda wrote, it's better than nothing!). However, the reader's general situation--both before and after the update--raises an issue I think might be worth discussing: how liberal should PhD programs be in granting transfer credit or adjusting course requirements for transfer students? 

What do you all think? As I've never run a program myself, I may not be in the best position to say. However, I have been on the student side of things, and thought it may be helpful to share my own experience.

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 7: Getting It Done

I ended the last part of the series on a cliffhanger. Here’s an abbreviated recap: after a series of starts and stops on the dissertation, January arrived, and it still wasn’t done. In fact, there was still quite a bit of unwritten material. After returning from the APA Eastern meeting, I faced the fact that time was running out, and I really didn’t want to drag the project into the summer. So how did I finally get it done?

First, a little background is in order. During my very first semester of graduate school (all the way back in Fall 2010), after completing all my preliminary research and determining what I wanted to argue, I wrote and revised all 3 of my term papers in an intense 4-day writing binge. In total, I wrote around 15,000 words in this stretch. The routine during those 4 days went roughly as follows: get up, get a bowl of cereal, turn on the computer, bring up MS Word, write for 4-5 hours, 30-minute break for lunch, write for 5-6 hours, 1-hour break to make and eat dinner, write until tired, go to sleep, and repeat.

Now, let’s be clear: this is not a sustainable or desirable model for academic writing. It doesn’t come anywhere near the well-balanced academic life one might want, and it’s incompatible with significant teaching and service commitments. But for a short spell at the very end of the term (when I no longer had teaching commitments), it was effective.

Fast forward to January 2017. When the semester got rolling, I tried to emulate this schedule as much as possible. After allocating the necessary hours each week toward teaching and job applications, I put as many hours as possible toward dissertation writing. As many as I could without losing my mind.

For two months, I became a social hermit, worked out less, and refused to take on any additional projects beyond what I was already committed to. I was teaching a course that I had already taught several times, so my required teaching prep was relatively minimal. Grading did take longer than it normally would have, though, since it was not as high on my priority list. The grind wasn’t fun, but it was successful. I sent out the polished first half of my dissertation to committee members in early March and followed up with the revised second half two weeks later. The defense at the end of the month was uneventful.

The costs of the grind were severe. Once post-defense revisions were submitted in April, I set my research aside for almost two months, a longer break from my research than I had ever taken during graduate school. While I had succeeded in my two major goals for that semester – finding a job for the following fall and finishing the dissertation – these triumphs brought little joy. The mental and emotional toil wrapped up in the prior academic year had left me exhausted, and the only good feeling that could be savored was relief. It was time for a break.

And so the narrative portion of the series concludes. But there are still two parts to go. In the next segment, I’ll summarize the major lessons that can be drawn from prior posts and consider how those insights might help graduate students prepare for the dissertation stage and eventually finish their degree.

Reader query on a post-hoc admissions dilemma

In the comments section of our most recent "how can we help you?" post, a reader writes:

I’m currently a first-year PhD student in institution A who also holds an MA degree in Philosophy. During my application season this year, my final decision was between institution A and institution B. I was slightly inclined to choose A over B. However, B has a very flexible policy of credit transfer which was very attractive to me. I then asked the DGA at A whether I could request some credit transfer from my previous institution. The DGS told me that my request needs the approval of the whole department but he/she thought that it was highly likely that it would be fully approved. In addition, the credit transfer is not something unprecedented. Based on what he/she told me, I ended up choosing A.

I didn’t hear back from them on the issue for almost five months. Several days ago, the DGS told me that they cannot grant my request. If that information had been available to me earlier, I should have ended up choosing B over A. Given that I have already enrolled in A, what could I do? Any advice would be appreciated.

I'll be curious to hear what other people think. Unfortunately, I am inclined to think that--aside from withdrawing from institution A or raising a big stink about the issue--this reader can probably only take this as a difficult lesson learned at this point.

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 6: When Other Things Seem More Important

As I said in the previous entry in this series, I believe there were two moments where I came close to not completing the dissertation. The first occurred in Summer 2016 when the tedium of dissertation work stifled my enjoyment of writing. As I noted in Part 5, I eventually snapped out of that spell and got back to making steady progress. In October, I had to disrupt my momentum to polish dossier materials and send out job applications, but that brief gap in progress did not affect me too much. I kept sending material to my advisor, and everything continued as planned. A defense at the end of January looked likely.

Unfortunately, things did not stay that way for long. Outside of my philosophical life, two things happened that fall that had a significant impact on me. The first was the 2016 U.S. presidential election. I had, for the most part, tried to ignore the political developments in the U.S. over the summer and focus on my work, but the all-encompassing election coverage on social media and the vitriolic nature of the campaigns made the events difficult to ignore. When the results were finally obtained on November 8th, the outcome was not what I had hoped for, and many of my peers spent the remainder of the night (and a chunk of the morning) in the close proximity to hard liquor.

Grad school toolkit, part 2: publishing & research strategies

I thought it might be helpful to follow up this series' first post (on dissertations) with a compendium of posts at the Cocoon on publishing and research strategies not directly related to dissertations (I'll reserve book publishing for a later date).

Here, then, are previous posts on these subjects, which I will then update moving forward:

Research strategies

• Reader Poll: How to Get Feedback (May 2012)
• Opportunistic writing (May 2012)
• Tips and Tricks, Part Deux: Research (June 2012)
• Keeping up with the Joneses' research (July 2012)
• How to write a lot (August 2012)
• How to waste your money without improving your writing (August 2012)
• Reader Question: Good and Bad Papers (November 2012)
• Stuck in Neutral? A Suggestion (Feb 2013)
• Research Strategies (March 2013)
• More Research Strategies (March 2013)
• Slow and steady (March 2013)
• Throw up, then clean up (May 2013)
• When in doubt, just try to have some fun (June 2013)
• A Fun & Productive Exercise (July 2013)
• Reader Question about Work Habits (Sept 2013)
• On Prioritizing and Getting Stuff Done (Oct 2013)
• Things I Think I've Learned -- Thing#3: Read Widely (Dec 2013)
• The Kelleher Method for getting feedback on your papers (Dec 2013)
• How do you write? (March 2014)
• How do you read philosophy? (March 2014)
• Co-writing philosophy (May 2014)
• The art of writing brief philosophy papers (Jan 2015)
• On training grad students in philosophical writing: two opposing desiderata (June 2015)
• Reader query: Following my passion or writing strategically? (June 2016)
• Neil Mehta's writing guide for professional philosophers (Sept 2016)
• (How) do you get feedback? (April 2017)
• How I learned to love writing philosophy: 3 steps (July 2017)
• Reader query on how to handle a long journal turnaround time (July 2017)

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 5: When You Start to Hate Writing

In the last few parts of this series, I have discussed several major factors that make the dissertation difficult to complete. Since it’s taken several weeks to get to this point, let’s recap what I’ve highlighted thus far:

1. The dissertation stage of graduate school lacks a rigid structure and concrete deadlines.
2. The dissertation is a much larger project than anything else in graduate school.
3. The dissertation has higher stakes than any other project in graduate school.
4. Unlike many other things in graduate school, dissertation work cannot be easily postponed.
5. Other commitments often hinder your ability to make consistent progress on the dissertation.
6. Dissertation progress (often) must be maintained even when navigating the academic job market for the first time.

That seems like an impressive list. It’s not hard to see why the dissertation would be tough to finish given this information. Here’s the catch: none of these factors explains why the dissertation was the hardest part of my graduate career. I actually think I was rather well-prepared for these things, insofar as that’s possible. The biggest reason that finishing the dissertation difficult was something I had not anticipated and something I was not ready for.

For a time, working on the dissertation actually made me hate writing.

Brainstorming department mental health policies

In the comments section of, "Reader query on presenting to a department on mental illness", the reader who submitted the query suggested it might be helpful to gather a list of potential departmental guidelines or policies regarding mental health. I think it's a great idea, and thought we might attempt to brainstorm a rough list of policies here!

Before I open things up for discussion, allow me to briefly float a few policies for consideration. The policies I'm inclined to favor map on broadly to the list of topics I discussed in the earlier post:

Guidelines against stigmatizing mental illness: I'm inclined to think there should be departmental guidelines educating faculty and students about the stigmatization of mental-illness--guidelines emphasizing that mental illness is an illness no less than a physical illness such as cancer; that we should therefore treat it the same way we treat physical illnesses (with compassion, understanding, etc.); that gossip regarding a person's known or suspected illness is inappropriate; that "bad choices" people make while suffering from mental illness may be a temporary manifestation of illness rather than reflective of the individual's true personal or moral character; and that many forms of mental illness are highly treatable, such that a person's personal or professional struggles (and "bad decisions") may resolve themselves once receiving effective treatment.

Grad school toolkit - part 1: dissertations

This is the first post in the Cocoon's new Grad-School Toolkit series. As I explained in the series preview, the series was inspired by a reader suggestion that it might be helpful to grad students and grad programs to compile and organize all of the Cocoon's grad-school-related posts in one place. The thought/hope is that students and programs may find the series useful as a useful resource to improve grad student life and better enable students to progress successfully through their program.

This series, which I see as constantly evolving, will be comprised by a series of posts, each of which is dedicated to a different topic--such as dissertations, publishing, teaching, work-life balance, mental health, well-being, and so on. The posts will will initially be a compilation of past posts on those subjects here at the Cocoon. However, as the Cocoon continues on, my plan is to continually update each post in the series so that the series can be a constantly evolving and developing "toolkit." I also plan to invite readers to submit (either anonymously or in their own name) special guest posts offering students and programs information or advice on topics of their interest.

Upcoming series: 'Grad school toolkit'

The anonymous reader who wrote in soliciting advice on how to talk about depression to their grad department wrote in with a nice suggestion: that it might be helpful to compile a list of posts at the Cocoon that grad students and grad programs might use as a resource to help improve grad student life and assist grad students navigate their programs successfully. I think it's a great idea, and plan to begin a new series next week: a 'Grad School Toolkit.'

Basically, what I hope to do is devote each initial post in the series to compiling Cocoon posts on different grad-school related topics, including:

• Mental health
• General well-being
• Interpersonal issues
• Dissertations (including Trevor's excellent series)
• Publishing
• Teaching
• Etc.

If any of you can think of specific Cocoon posts that you'd like to see in any of these lists, please do let me know. Finally, I'm hoping to follow the first part of the series (where these lists are compiled) with new posts, ideally submissions by readers on things they think grad students or grad programs could do to improve grad student life and success.

So, please consider giving it some thought yourself: is there anything you think grad students or programs should know? All you have to do is write up a short post (and you can always do it anonymously!), and I will post it in the series for discussion!

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 4: The First Job Market Run

Part 3 of this series focused on the problem of stacking commitments – the tendency for non-dissertation commitments to overwhelm one’s schedule in the final stages of graduate school as one tries to become a viable candidate on the job market. Now’s the time to consider the job market itself and how the initial run can impact your dissertation work.

First, let’s start with the ideal scenario. You manage to get a couple publications during graduate school, and the rest of your CV is pretty solid. You spend most of your summer finishing a full draft of your dissertation. Only revisions and the formal defense remain. You then devote the remainder of your summer and the first half of the fall toward job market preparation. You make sure all your statements are polished and that your writing samples have been thoroughly revised and edited according to feedback from your colleagues. You keep pace with the job market deadlines while making revisions to your dissertation manuscript and schedule a January defense, ensuring that your dissertation will be done long before you start your first job (if you're able to snag one).

Reader query on presenting to a department on mental illness

A reader writes in:

I finished my Phd in 2015 and decided not to go into academia. While I don't at all currently regret that decision, now that I have recently been able to finally be completely free of depression for the first time since maybe I was a little kid, I am able to recognize that my decision not to go into academia was at least partly influenced by depression. In short: I had been taking zoloft since my 2nd year in grad school; my marriage fell apart during my 8th year, and I coped by smoking way too much weed; my doctor decided to take me off zoloft because she was worried about its interactions with weed; during my 9th year I completely lost interest in philosophy (similar to my experience prior to taking zoloft during my 2nd year) and was able to eke out the rest of the dissertation but called it quits with philosophy.

Anyways: I was recently chatting with a few of my old advisors back at [redacted]... We talked about how we think it's really a shame that depression just isn't discussed openly within the department, even though so many people have it. I thought that it might be a good idea for me to come back and give talk, sharing my own experiences with depression in grad school, talking about resources at [redacted], etc. He agreed, so I'll be giving the talk in November :) In the meantime, as I'm thinking about the content and structure of my talk, I was wondering if you have any thoughts for such a talk: What sorts of things might be good to include in a talk to a philosophy department whose students suffer from depression and at least some of the faculty are interested in helping and improving the environment of the department?

I think this is a great query, and would like to commend the reader, advisor, and department that took the initiative to organize this individual's upcoming presentation. I'm curious to hear what readers think. I myself feel fairly comfortable offering suggestions, as I have a good deal of experience with mental illness: I worked as an intern in an outpatient ward for a year, was co-director of a group home for the mentally ill for another year, and mental illness runs in my family, being more or less a constant in my life-experience since early childhood. Allow me to share some of my thoughts, then, before I open things up for comments...

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 3: Stacking Commitments

In my last post, I emphasized the ways in which the dissertation stage differs from other aspects of graduate school. One of the major differences is that the dissertation is a much longer project than anything else you will be required to complete. Given its length, it’s no surprise that you have to devote a lot of time to it over the last year or two of your graduate studies. In the abstract, that might not sound too terrible, since you aren’t saddled with coursework or preparing for comprehensive exams. If only it were so simple.

In this and the next part of the series, I consider two related features of the dissertation stage that both threaten to rob you of your writing time: commitments tied to side-projects and professional development and the job market push that will most likely occur during your final year of graduate school. We’ll start with the former – what I call the problem of stacking commitments.

Structuring unstructured time

In the comments section of Trevor's recent post, "Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 2: A Different Kind of Project", a reader ("cw") wrote:

For me, #1 was the biggest problem. I'm not good with unstructured time. I found myself rushing at the end of each semester to have something to show my director.

I should have set more meeting points for us, and clearer expectations for each meeting. I'm sure my director would have gone for it, but I didn't ask.

In my experience, this is a problem a lot of graduate students have, and for roughly the reasons Trevor gives. Throughout the first part of grad school (e.g. course work, comp exams, etc.), one has fairly clear deadlines. Yet, when it comes to the dissertation stage and publishing, one no longer has such clear deadlines--and one can end up wasting a lot of time getting little done. I know from experience! After my comp exams, I basically got nothing of import done for about a year-and-a-half. And it wasn't for lack of trying. I was reading. I was trying to write. I just wasn't being effective. And I know I'm not alone in this. I am currently mentoring a PhD student who excelled in graduate school...until passing comp exams (just like me!). Fortunately, I have learned a lot about how to deal effectively with "unstructured time", and as I will explain below, the strategies I have developed have sound empirical support.

I didn't know this until my spouse (who works in IO-Psychology), but one of the more well-confirmed theories in her field is known as Goal-Setting Theory. In rough outline, Goal-Setting Theory posits that specific and ambitious daily and weekly goals lead to higher performance than easier or more general goals. The basics of Goal-Setting Theory have been inductively confirmed by over 400 studies spanning over 25 years. More exactly, the theory recommends (here I quote):

Dissertation Reflection Series, Part 2: A Different Kind of Project

In the first post of this series, I highlighted four factors that made the dissertation stage of graduate school challenging for me. In this post, I focus on how the dissertation differs from other graduate work and why these differences tend to make writing the dissertation more difficult than the other stages of graduate school.

Difference #1: Lack of Rigid Structure and Concrete Deadlines

The first few years of graduate school are highly structured. You take courses with clear reading lists and concrete deadlines. You have conversations about the course material every week, and the professor will often give you insight into the kinds of topics that would make for good papers. Often, you’ll get some feedback on in-progress work (through peer review, presentations, etc.) during the course.

How I learned to love writing philosophy: 3 steps

In his post last week, "Should You Go to Graduate School in Philosophy (Revisited)", Trevor wrote:

Now let’s suppose you answer this first question in the affirmative – you think the grad school experience will be worth it even if things go unfavorably for you sometime during the program or during your time on the job market. The next question to ask – one that I did not consider when I was contemplating whether to go to graduate school – is this: “Do I deeply enjoy writing philosophy?” Like the previous question, if you cannot answer this one with a sincere yes, then I think going to graduate school is unwise.

If you enjoy reading philosophy or talking philosophy, that’s great. But what really matters to your long-term success in graduate school is whether you will write philosophy...

In response to Trevor's post, an anonymous commenter ('O') wrote: "I think the author is exagerating [sic]. How many people do you know who enjoy writing philosophy? I know very few, even among professors." However, my experience--and Trevor's evidently--is very different. Like Trevor, many of the people I know who have done well in the profession appear to be people who sincerely love writing, and do a ton of it. Not only that. Whereas the times that I struggled the most in my career--both during graduate school and during my early career after receiving my PhD--were the times that I didn't get much written because I didn't enjoy it. I only began to publish successfully and do better on the job market once I learned to really enjoy writing philosophy, just like Trevor says. And, make no mistake, I really love it. As I noted in a comment: "I absolutely love writing philosophy. I wake up just about every weekday looking forward to doing it." This is, if anything, an understatement. I'm half-ashamed to admit it, but often enough if I'm having a boring weekend I actually can't wait for Monday around so I can start drafting a new paper! I'm a nerd, I know, but it's true. :)

Anyway, after writing my comment, a few people asked me how I came to love writing. First, Amanda asked:

Marcus, did you always love writing, or did it change once you decided to write about big ideas instead of the stuff others told you to write about? I think I am going to change my writing style (i.e. write about what I enjoy writing about, and in the style I enjoy) after I finish one last round of revisions for the "try to please the authorities" paper. I hope I have more fun.

Then, after responding to Amanda, I received a similar query via email about how to write more efficiently. Because learning to love writing was such an important part of my professional development--and because at least a couple of people were interested in the answers--I thought I might write a short post on these issues. So, here goes!

Should You Go to Graduate School in Philosophy? (Revisited)

By Trevor Hedberg

In a post I wrote four years ago, I noted that certain discussions in our profession seem to resurface every year. One of these discussions is what we should tell undergraduate students who are interested in studying philosophy at the graduate level. Some views on this subject can be found elsewhere on the Cocoon, on the Philosophy Smoker, on Michael Huemer’s personal website, on Bleeding Heart Libertarians, on Goodbye, Academia!, and on plenty of other sites if you’re willing to dig through the search results. Since the job market is so tough and the attrition rate in graduate programs so high, there’s a fairly strong case for discouraging students from pursuing graduate study in our discipline.

Now that I have completed my graduate studies and my first full stint on the job market, I want to share how my views on this subject have changed. The last time I wrote about this issue, I largely echoed the criteria that Eric Schwitzgebel put forward in the opening post of his series on applying to graduate school in philosophy. He writes, “I advise students not to consider graduate school in philosophy unless (1.) they'd be happy teaching philosophy at a low prestige college and are willing to move almost anywhere in the country, and (2.) even if they never finished the degree they would have found the process of studying philosophy at the graduate level intrinsically worthwhile.” I read this advice for the first time in 2009 – when I was considering whether to apply to graduate school myself. I still believe that his second condition is the most important question for prospective graduate students to ask themselves.

Reader query on joint JD/PhD programs

In the comments section of our most recent "how can we help you?" post, 'Prospective Student' writes:

I'm a prospective PhD student, but I'm also a prospective J.D. student. I would like to enter a joint J.D./PhD program. I don't really care where. I love philosophy, and I want to write a dissertation and attend conferences. Surely, I want to teach; but I'm sticking to weak generalizations about my interests because I'm still a student.

My dilemma is this. I'm not really interested in the philosophy of law or value theory. I want to do a joint PhD/J.D. strictly out of interest and financial gain. I'm hoping to write a dissertation in metaphysics or in a related area. But I'm also hoping to graduate with a J.D. so I can leave academia if I can't find a job. I'm okay with not finding a job in philosophy. I'm not ok with not writing a dissertation, publishing, or attending conferences. I hope to do this my entire life, even if I'm not a professional philosopher.

That being said, will departments think that this is not feasible if I lack an interest in philosophy of law? For example, I am thinking about applying to UCSD for metaphysics and then UCSD law school; would it be audacious of me not to include that information in my statement of interest for UCSD and then, if I were accepted, to inform the department that I would like to go ahead with the joint program (or otherwise do a joint program elsewhere). Thanks all.

In response, Craig wrote the following (which I have abridged due to its length):

My advice here is not to do the JD/PHD if you aren't interested in philosophy of law or value theory. You are right to suspect that programs will look askance at this. This is in part because a phd is hard and requires tremendous concentration, and disrupting it for three years to study a topic mostly unrelated to your research is going to make it far, far less likely that you'll succeed...

[B]y seeking the JD/PHD, you are going to limit the schools you might attend, on both hooks. There are good law schools where you won't find good phd programs (not naming names, b/c I don't want to be a jerk), and there are good phd programs without competitive or any law schools (e.g., UCSD does not have a law school). If you want a shot at academia, give yourself the best possible shot by going to the best possible school--it matters significantly.

Finally, your goals as I understand them would be far better served considering these projects in serial. A JD/PHD program is not a good way to save time or money or to increase one's employment chances--it is a good way to do interdisciplinary research...