I withdrew from my PhD program (with very good grades, I might add) not because I was unhappy with the quality of the education I was receiving; in fact, I was extremely satisfied with my institution on a purely academic level and consider myself fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with as many respected scholars as I did. Rather, I withdrew from my program because I didn’t want to find myself struggling as an adjunct in my early 30s. Because I didn’t want to put my personal life on hold for a tenure-track position that may or may not have been there two to three years after graduating. Because I didn’t want to compete with people fresh out of high school for entry-level non-academic jobs that do not require a university degree, of which I would have had three by that point.

I’m struggling enough as it is to find a job right now with just a master’s degree to my name, so I would hate to think how bad things might have been if I’d actually finished my PhD. Sure, I could have gotten lucky and found the academic-equivalent of the Holy Grail. In the likelier scenario, however, I would have been in the situation that I’m currently in now–just at a point in my life when I’d ideally like to have a family and a stable career.

Universities absolutely need to make career fairs and career-building seminars a priority, because the old “get a degree, get a job” adage is simply not true in today’s economy. Graduate schools in particular need to be far more proactive when it comes to providing their students with information about non-academic career options. My alma mater, for instance, is very good at providing instructional sessions for things like creating teaching dossiers and preparing academic CVs–but those sessions will only benefit a minute fraction of my former colleagues when they eventually graduate. Yes, it’s up to the individual student to better inform his or herself about his or her options before heading off to grad school (aside: I’m very thankful for UA’s “Escape the Ivory Tower” podcast, which I stumbled upon quite by accident), but I think that if program administrators REALLY want to do something positive about the student angst that is, yes, a growing and much-ignored problem at the graduate level, then holding a few informational sessions that might actually help us find our way when we leave with all those letters after our names would be a step in the right direction.

Glen A. Jones
University of Toronto

It’s surprising to me that we (I’m a grad student myself) don’t tie depression, anxiety, or general unease to our workplaces or careers. I think the reason for this is quite simple: grad programs are supposed to be grueling and arduous, no? Plus, we can each look at the department we work and study in and recognize the wonderful resources and supports offered by our communities there.

But if depression and anxiety really are becoming more and more common among grad students, I firmly believe that universities, departments, and faculty need to respond. Mental illness is so often considered an individual problem. The link between the rise of depression/anxiety and recognizably stressful working conditions in graduate schools suggests the exact opposite. This is not a personal problem, but a structural one. And sure, some of those structural problems may be difficult to resolve. How could faculty members or department heads, for example, do anything about a weak job market? But I think there are things we can do within our departments and universities to improve the situation: set up graduate writing centres, offer training to grad students and to faculty on what supervisory relationships actually look like, offer student-run courses in third and fourth year on areas of specialization…

I agree with JoVE’s post. Shortsighted, nasty and anti-intellectual forces at work here.

In case you want to balance this post out, feel free to add this:

“Nora Loreto asked her father, an English Ontarian and English high school teacher, if he supported the strike in Quebec. His short answer was, ‘yes, absolutely”. You don’t even have to cite me.

Disappointing.

It mostly happens in the latter stages of the degree, such as after one starts teaching classes and gets a sense of how poorly depts treat and pay sessionals. Attending depts meetings also can be a shock to the system – where there is exposure to just how unprofessional and petty dept politics can be.

Regardless, I’m suspect of any studies of this kind, having been surveyed for several myself. There always is a fear that the participant can be somehow identified, and saying anything critical of your program might come back to haunt you in job hunts, peer reviews, etc. There also is a large amount of delusion among grad students, especially those just starting out – grad school is a kind of cult afterall.

See http://www.justice.gouv.qc.ca/english/publications/generale/maria-a.htm#names and http://www.etatcivil.gouv.qc.ca/en/change-name.html#name for more info.

Granted the cash-grab aspect of it is pretty stupid (it could cost $300-$400 to get it done), whereas other provinces it is significantly less, but I digress…

And to be honest, for my situation, I am glad it is this way (I am getting married and I want to keep my maiden name because I am very proud of my family’s history) but my fiancé expected me to take his but after I told him about the Quebec process and how painfully tedious it sounded to get it done, not to mention the price tag on it, he backed off the whole ‘take-my-name’ issue.

Anyhow, I could be simply painfully naive about the whole thing, but, like I mentioned before, to me it seems difficult for both sexes in QC to change their names.

That being said, I do enjoy my graduate program and I have never regretted pursuing my PhD, but it has required a lot of work to cope with my anxiety issues and so I can still be successful. But I find that the issue is rarely discussed, and the support for this is minimal or non-existent in some cases.

However, I need to be clear: I view the problem as so serious that a ban might be appropriate even given that the few allowed to use computers would be “outed.” At this point, I feel I’m held hostage much of the time by a population that often displays no respect whatsoever for good behavioural standards. Those who use devices only for taking notes are in the minority (and probably a rather small minority, from what I can tell).

Unlike Anna, I have a big problem with device use distracting me. I need to focus on the material and offer well-articulated expositions and arguments. I can’t when so many students essentially thumb their noses at me as I address them in person. I have a job to do. I also have self-respect. What sort of a person allows others to ignore and run roughshod over one’s basic right to speak and be heard? It’s a matter of respect.

The results of my own non-scientific survey (i.e., a running straw poll of everyone I know who is precariously employed, and I’m talking about over a dozen promising young scholars) suggest that young PhDs in contract or sessional teaching positions have no kids, do not live where they want, have no assets, and limited prospects for financial security in the near future, and zero job satisfaction. They burn out by their mid- to late-30s, and entertain suicidal thoughts when not seriously thinking of just disengaging and checking out altogether. This is what sitting at the bottom of the academic caste hierarchy does to you.

What makes this all the more poignant is that all the people I know who are in such a situation are Canadian-trained PhDs who keep getting passed over in tenure-track competitions by middle-of-the-pack US-trained ivy leaguers, freshly-minted, with no teaching experience and hardly any publications.