Victory Strut

I greet you this week as a newly minted Doctoral Candidate! Until you begin writing your dissertation, you are merely a doctoral student. Once your dissertation prospectus is approved, you’re finally considered a candidate for the Ph.D. degree.

My defense was truly a pleasure. I have such a supportive committee of advisors, and although they spent quite a bit of the hour-long defense critiquing my work and pushing me to consider the weaknesses of the project, they also expressed optimism that the dissertation will make a significant contribution to the historical literature. The unanimous critique made by my three advisors was that the scope of the project—particularly the chronology—is too large. They encouraged me to focus on the 1960s and 1970s, and to pack the 1940s and 1950s into an initial, introductory chapter. I see their point. I tend to think very concretely, and in chronological order, and it’s reflected in my chapter outline. I begin at the end of WWII and slowly scaffold the narrative into the ‘60s and ‘70s. My committee pointed out that this scaffolding is not necessary, that much of the earlier story can be folded into the later narrative as historical context. So the defense was very productive and I feel better prepared to begin my archival research.

My plan for the rest of the summer, however, is to focus on reading rather than researching. I have several important texts to read that will help me contextualize my case studies. The additional benefit of reading and not researching/writing is that I will sneak a little break from the stress of constantly producing deep thoughts. I’m looking forward to a refreshing summer.

Almost ABD

If I succeed in keeping my foot out of my mouth, by this time tomorrow I will be ABD (All But Dissertation). After countless revisions--I estimate about 10 rounds, eight based on faculty feedback and two resulting from my own attempts at "tightening" the argument--my committee finalized the prospectus on Monday morning and gave me the thumbs-up to defend. In my department, the defense is a formality. No doubt it is a useful exercise, giving you a chance to explain your research and practice answering questions. No one in institutional memory has failed the defense, though, and I doubt I will be the first. I'm anxious about saying something stupid, but I think my committee has decided that I'm ready to move on to the dissertation.

For those who have never attended the defense of a dissertation prospectus, it's a pretty standard format across humanities and social science doctoral programs. The student presents their project, and then your committee takes turns asking tough, penetrating questions. Sometimes these questions address shortcomings in the proposal, other times they attempt to ascertain the feasibility of the research (for example: how will you find records that convey the thoughts of the actors/subjects you will research?). After the committee is satisfied, they allow the grad students in the audience to ask questions. Finally, the committee dismisses the student and the audience and confers. If they agree that you successfully defended, they sign a form stating that you have been advanced to candidacy for the degree of Ph.D. and are now ABD!

Wish me luck!

Abstracted

Yesterday, while waiting to receive back comments from my committee on the finalized prospectus draft, I finally wrote my abstract. The dissertation abstract distills the project down to one page, emphasizing the major questions, arguments, interventions, and case studies that underpin the study.  I dreaded this task for weeks. My study is SO BIG! I intervene into three historiographies using three case studies, which gives the study a national scope yet focuses on three very local examples. I examine the issues I'm interested in from both a top-down and bottom-up perspective, reading the reports and records of leaders and organizations and gleaning the "lived experience" and agency of grassroots actors. How the heck can you summarize a project like that in one page!?

Well, the truth is, you can't. I managed to draw out the most salient points and arguments I plan to make, but the abstract feels very flat to me. That's the whole point, and in fact it's what makes an abstract useful. It's oversimplified and easy for a non-expert reader to digest. I struggle with it, however, because it feels somehow untruthful. It's an obfuscation,  by definition, of all the complexity and nuance that really explain why events in the past happened the way they did. The best arguments manage to hint at this messiness while delivering clarity, but this project is still so new that my argument has yet to develop this sophistication.

The good news is that the abstract may evolve along with the dissertation, and I'll have more than ample opportunities to revise and rewrite it. I'm sure that by this time next year I'll be on my tenth version, and I'll still hate the abstract--but by then, I hope it will just be because I'm sick of re-doing it!

Outlining the Dissertation Chapters

After the introduction and historiographical overview, the prospectus has three more mandatory sections: a description of methodology and sources, a chapter outline, and a bibliography. Rather than complete these sections in order, I've approached the prospectus by beginning with the historiography. Outlining how I intend for the dissertation to contribute to extant scholarship and fill in gaps in the literature helped me to refine my argument and decide on the scope of what I should study (and what topics require no duplication of effort, on my part). Having clarified the argument and scope, I am now working to outline the six chapters I plan to write for the dissertation. 

This section was effortless to begin, but has been much more difficult to complete than I ever anticipated. After writing the historiographical overview, I had a very clear idea of how the chapters should chronologically progress, and what the thematic focus of each chapter should be. I also had a good sense of what questions I would attempt to answer in each chapter. Where I have gotten hung up, however, is in identifying what each chapter will argue and what case studies or sources I will use to support the argument. Obviously the prospectus is speculative, and these decisions are bound to change as archival research progresses, but your committee really wants to see that it is possible to complete a dissertation on this topic. Are there sources available that will yield a coherent narrative? Is it feasible to write a full chapter on the topic of interest, or conversely is the scope of the chapter or project too large?

I'm currently struggling with the relationship between scope and case studies. I would like to include three case studies in the dissertation, of JCCs in New York City, Los Angeles, and Miami. Unfortunately, I'm only sure that sources exist for the NYC case. The other two are merely speculative. Additionally, a majority of my advisors think it is not feasible to complete three case studies in the short time we are given to write the dissertation (3 years) and that I should focus closely on one case, especially since I am not proposing to do a comparative study. I'm now deciding whether the Los Angeles and Miami examples could be incorporated by using a secondary source base (historical studies that have already been written) rather than doing the archival research for these Centers all by myself. 

I'm hoping that taking a little break from the prospectus today will help me find some perspective on this question. I'd like to finish up the chapter outline by the end of the week, because I cannot really discuss my methodology and sources until I figure out what I want to do! 

Talking It Out

I spent half an hour this morning struggling to articulate my reaction to an important book in the historiography of social work. I kept coming back to one critique over and over, but could not really put my finger on how this critique related to my proposed dissertation project. After writing and deleting, writing and deleting, thinking, getting a cup of tea, and thinking some more, I felt stuck. I wanted to stay in front of my computer because my writing timer was on--I needed to keep going in order to reach my goal of two hours for the day.

Finally, I realized that I would not be able to clarify this point on my own, and I asked a colleague if I could attempt to articulate my critique to her. After two minutes of explaining the premise and arguments of the book, I began to levy my objections. Her dissertation, while on a different topic entirely, also had to deal with class relations between social workers and their clients. She was able to offer insight from her own experience grappling with this question, and helped me identify what parts of the book's argument I should carry into my own research, and what parts to discard.

The conversation was a nice reminder that writing is an inherently collaborative project, and that no project can be done alone. I have a tendency to hold up these amazing works of history and admire how these scholars could succeed at crafting something so brilliant. I have to remember that, yes, they did spend many many hours alone in front of their word processors hammering out their thoughts--but just as many hours were spent in conversation, stimulating and clarifying their proto-arguments.