How Doing A PhD At Cambridge Has Helped Me To Separate Grades And Self-Worth
A story of perfectionism in education and reclaiming the joy that is learning …
Words: Katherine Dixon
“I didn’t take part in the school play in Year 11 because I was deeply worried that attending the rehearsals would impact my performance in my GCSE mocks. The mocks. Blinkered ambition of this nature, perhaps better typified as an (un)healthy dose of anxiety and at times crippling issues with my self-esteem, has been a running theme of my education. Alongside this self-imposed pressure to be a “high achiever”, it is important to also say that I do adore learning. At 25 I am now a third-year PhD student of English Literature at the University of Cambridge and I am exceptionally lucky to be able to look back on over two decades of continuous education. I’ve chosen academia as a vocation because the challenge and commitment of daily research is an exciting one (to me). I love exploring topics nobody has considered before and now, as a tutor of undergraduates at my institution, I also have the privilege of being able to share my knowledge with, and learn from, my students.
Conversations with colleagues in my field suggest that, for those of us who do have a tendency to chase gold stars and big ticks, the task of balancing a love of learning with a healthy approach to studying will be a life-long struggle. That said, I can happily say that over the course of my PhD I have become far better at separating my academic achievements from my own sense of self. I’d like to share some of the best lessons that I have learnt over the last few years, in the hope that this advice might ease your own journey through school and university.
Return to your original motivation
There can, of course, be a lot of external factors that influence our decision to pick a certain subject at university, or to pursue higher education in the first place. There’s a reasonable chance, however, that as a fresh-faced first year there were certain aspects of university life you were really excited about, or that you choose a course with a career or life goal in mind. Sometimes in the fog of reading lists, exams and coursework deadlines, alongside infinite other big life pressures at university like friendship drama, health concerns or a devilish landlord, it is easy to lose sight of the positive perks that drew you to your degree. Sometimes, on a really stressful day, I take a few big breaths and remind myself that, in a year’s time, I might be getting post addressed to Dr Dixon. When my pile of marking is knee-deep, I try to remember that I used to dream of teaching in an undergraduate classroom. Keeping my original ambitions in mind helps to remind me to acknowledge the progress I am making, even when it all feels very overwhelming.
There’s power in perspective
I study medieval sermons. I’m never going to re-invent the wheel. There are a very many reasons why I can justify the importance and relevance of my chosen research area, but – at the same time – I’m 100% able to chuckle at how worked up I can get about whether a certain fifteenth-century priest said this or that, whether a manuscript is made of paper or parchment. Yes, the facts matter to my work, but that’s the only place where they do matter. My research is, of course, an interesting part of me, but so are all the other things that make me me. A bad mark or piece of feedback doesn’t impact my status as a sister, daughter or girlfriend, it doesn’t stop me going for a run or doing a sewing project. Even a leading cancer researcher’s life extends beyond their laboratory.
No two journeys are comparable
“Perhaps your scheduled gym session is one thing too many during your revision week, or perhaps getting some exercise is the one thing you know you have to do to keep your stress levels in check and something else has to give.”
One of the best things about the PhD is that it quickly becomes impossible to compare yourself directly to anyone else in your programme. Looking back, however, I wish I had been able to adopt this attitude far earlier in my life. My best PhD pal is AMAZING. She’s got an article ready to publish and her job prospects are excellent. Am I jealous? Honestly, I can say that I’m not. That’s because her research interests and career priorities are so different to mine that it would be pointless for me to measure her achievements against my own. I’m now far better at remembering my own goals and pursuing those and those alone, rather than saying yes to something just because it would sound impressive on my CV or, worse, just to prove I could. If I take stock of what friends from my undergraduate course are doing now, everyone’s careers are taking such different shapes. I know teachers, journalists, nurses, librarians, photographers, bloggers, bankers, charity workers and PR managers. None of these glorious people are competing with each other for jobs, they’ve all carved their own impressive career paths. Why, then, were we measuring ourselves against each other while we were learning together as students? I can tell you now, it’s so much better for your heart (and mind) to cheer your friends’ successes. They’ll cheer right back.
How much can you carry?
I can already see my friends’ eyes rolling as I impart this advice (I preached it time and again while tucked up on our kitchen sofa in our undergraduate student flat): there’s only so much you can fit on a tray before it becomes be too heavy to carry. There are many versions of this metaphor: “You’ve got too much on your plate”, “The straw that broke the camel’s back”- you know what I’m getting at. During moments of overwhelm, which may or may not be related to university work, it is essential we take time to check-in with ourselves and evaluate how much we can sensibly carry.
Perhaps your scheduled gym session is one thing too many during your revision week, or perhaps getting some exercise is the one thing you know you have to do to keep your stress levels in check and something else has to give. During particularly tough times, this can involve taking the brave step of admitting you’re at full capacity and asking for help: from university staff, family or friends. My grandfather passed away during the final term of my undergraduate degree. Friends helped with food shopping, I asked committee members on the society I lead to take on my role for a few weeks and I organised an extension on a piece of coursework from my faculty. The whole experience was a lesson in realising my limits. Lightening my load was essential to getting through my final term, and my support network was all too willing to help once I was willing to ask for it. Knowing that academic success doesn’t sit solely on our shoulders, and that priorities in life will naturally shift and change as life circumstances do, can help us to not panic when our studies aren’t our singular focus.
Good work needs good rest
One of the best pieces of advice I’ve been given in recent years is that in order in to think well your brain requires time, space and energy. We all know that we’re meant to eat and sleep so as to nourish our bodies and minds, but tight deadlines and mounting pressures can often make burning the candle at both ends feel all too tempting. Caffeine-fuelled all-nighters may serve a purpose in an emergency, but leaned upon too frequently they can in fact inhibit us from submitting work that we’re proud of or, indeed, make us resent or dread the process of doing the degree we chose to do in the first place.
During my PhD I have finally learnt to recognise the importance of proper time off from my studying. I can honestly say that relaxation and time spent in nature, in art galleries and with friends fuels the best quality work I can do when I then return to it rested, enlivened and re-connected to my support network. Coming to recognise that my social life and hobbies are as crucial a part of what makes me feel good as getting a high grade has really helped me to prioritise a more balanced approach to my studies and develop a fuller picture of what makes me the person I am.
Building pauses into your work routine of course demands a lot of time management, which can take a long time to perfect, but I assure you that it’s worth experimenting with and practising this principle as early as you can.”
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Thank you so much to the incredibly talented Katherine Dixon for sharing her beautiful words and insight in this piece. You can follow her beautiful Cambridge photography page on Instagram at @QuietlyCambridge or read more about her PhD on her blog www.quietlycambridge.wordpress.com.