On Saying 'No'

 

(Photo credit: Aaraon Muszalski via flickr.)

I struggle with saying no. I feel like I have to build a roster of achievements to try and compensate for pursuing a PhD without funding. Since the opportunities don't come as part of my funding, I have to make them for myself: interning for 8 hours a week; organising a graduate conference; planning outreach activities for 7-12 year olds. Each has been rewarding in its own way, but doing them while working (and researching!) has been stressful.

I'm sure you know where this is going: I took on too much at the start of this summer because I couldn't say no.

There's another reason I need to learn to say no, and fast. As of this past Tuesday, I'm working full-time. This is good news! The job plays to my strengths, and offers plenty of learning opportunities. But it also means sacrifice: less research time; fewer conferences; postponing teaching for a few years.  This means I'll have to be more intentional with how I use my time.

There's a risk of being too instrumental in how you spend your time to the point of selfishness. I'd never want to get to the stage where I'm only chasing prestige. But there's also a need for balance. So in the future, I'm going to ask a few questions before I take on anything new.

Will this let me do more of what I love?   If the aim of these opportunities is to build experience and build a network, there's no sense in doing things half-heartedly. No one wants to be remembered as disorganised, disinterested, or distracted.  For me? I love sharing my enthusiasm about my research. For you? It might be writing; it be archival work. Either way, focusing on opportunities you're enthusiastic about enables you do things properly.

My second question seems to contradict the first: Will this opportunity challenge me? Will it enable me to develop? Building on your strengths is good, but it's too easy to bobble about in your comfort zone

For me? I gravitate towards anything that requires enthusiasm. So outreach events are exactly my forte. But I'm terrified of anything that sounds like academic competition. You might be the opposite: public speaking might terrify you. In the end, academics need to do both so it's worth developing both.

And then there's the question I most often get wrong: how much of my time will this opportunity take up? It's the question I've got wrong over the last few months: "of course I can intern for 6 hours. And do conference admin for 2 hours. And read 4 journal articles. And still be a pleasant human being to live with." You can imagine how well this goes.

This is a brilliant way to feel unproductive and anxious. It's also a cycle. Overestimate your ability > fail to finish tasks > feel like a failure > place more demands on yourself to compensate.  My new rule of thumb? Estimate the time commitment. Multiply it by at least 1.5. If it still seems reasonable, it probably is. 

Three questions do not mean a perfect PhD/work balance. But my hope is that thinking a little more critically about these opportunities will enable me to focus on the right ones for me.

5 Ways to Conquer Your To-Do List

 (photo credit)

(Again, this is another post in response to the prompts from #survivephd15 run by Dr. Inger Mewburn. This week's topic was confusion and we were challenged to write a guide to something that used to confuse us. Since I'm so frequently confused, I wasn't sure what to write about. Until I recalled a twitter exchange I had with Guiliana about the perils of to do lists a few weeks ago. Ta-da.)

I feel as though every article, listicle, podcast, TEDtalk and book about time management suggests writing a to-do list. But I feel as though very few suggest approaches to writing a to-do list because they don't acknowledge that sometimes, just the act of writing down everything you have to do can make you feel more stressed and less capable.

I don't know nearly as much about to-do lists as the producers of those various media. But I do know I get distracted and disheartened easily, and I also know that I am not good at remembering what I'm supposed to be doing. So, here is my attempt to clear up the confusion.

1) I keep the to-do list in accesible, organised place.

I find I need to get my day off to a good start to work productively. Do you know what's not a good start to the day? Trying to locate and then decipher a vague to-do list you made a few days before. This is why having a set means of making a list (as well as a place to make it) is very helpful.

For me, a notebook works best: it lives on my desk and I scribble extra notes as I need to. You may prefer to use a diary; you might prefer a digital tool like todoist.
 

2) I don't just plan for one day, I plan for at least the next few days.

Most advice I've seen suggests a daily list. Perhaps this works well in daily life, or in a task-focused job. But for my research, I find it helpful to plan out my to-dos for the three or so days I'm in the office. I find it helpful because it means that I can pace myself over those days, and also that tasks can be moved between days if need be. I find it also minimises the time each day I spend writing the list.

3) I make each entry SMART. (But most importantly, I keep it realistic).
Again, I feel like most advice about self-improvement or time-management includes advice for you to set SMART goals. But bear with me.

So much progress in writing, reading and editing is slow and incremental: especially with writing, there is an extent to which the writing dictates its own pace.With this in mind, there's no sense in setting goals like 'write chapter 2/journal article.' For me, this sort of goal is very unlikely to happen because I don't write that quickly. By setting a goal like this, I'm just setting myself up to feel demoralised.

I feel much better if I overachieve on more timid goals, like: 'write 1000 words of my chapter/journal article.' Is this cheating? Perhaps. But it's certainly motivating.


4) I alternate the types of task.

I'm talking specifically about alternating the length of task, but also the energy the task requires of me. Alternating short and long tasks means that I feel more like I'm making progress. If my to-do list just consists of reading article after article, my concentration starts to falter. If I do too many short tasks, I feel like I haven't 'really' achieved anything.

Alternating low-energy and high-energy tasks enables me to pace myself. I find sending emails very draining because I'll agonise over what to write. I find scanning and filing notes require very little energy on my part. Depending on the book, it might be very draining (hi, theology) or energising (hi, gender). 

5) I review my progress. Honestly. 

Despite all this, there are days when items on my to-do list remain unticked. Which makes me feel ticked off. This is the time for brutal honesty. What happened? Was I too ambitious? Was I not feeling it today? Was there some obstacle/block in my thinking? Can I overcome it, or is that just the way it is? 

Only by being brutally honest about why I didn't achieve something does this exercise in writing a to-do list have any value. By noting that reason and making my next list accordingly, I am able to feel like I'm still making progress.

_________________

Are there any other list-makers out there? I'd love to hear other people's advice or tips on how they make to-do lists. 

On Balance (or off it)

This week will be the first week since the start of June that I've been able to divide my time equally between my PhD and all the other commitments I've racked up. And to be frank, the lack of balance has been throwing me off recently.

This isn't really a complaint: I've done amazing things since the start of June that I never would have thought would be achievable in the next three years, let alone within four weeks. (If you're wondering how the Aspire conference went - it was amazing. I've actually not blogged about it yet because I want to do it justice.) But the lack of balance has been worrying me: suddenly my PhD seemed a remote idea; something quaint and loose and not pressing; something removed from my everyday life.

As a part-time PhD student and sufferer of imposter syndrome (you too? Wow! Great! We should talk.) this had been really worrying me over the last two weeks. If I can go a month doing barely any PhD work and not really minding, does that mean I care enough? Should I even be doing this? Who was I kidding, I'm not made for PhDing - I love public speaking and coaching and innovation...maybe this is a sign. Maybe I'm wasting my time!

And so on.

But, I also know that I need to be forgiving. I need to make the same allowances of myself that I do of everyone else. And I need to remember that having other elements to your identity, to your life, doesn't invalidate your identity as a researcher. (Even if the consistent noise on twitter about wordcounts and editing progress make me think every other PhD student doesn't sleep.) This isn't because I'm a special snowflake: even the most dedicated stay-in-the-lab-till-midnight PhD student is more than just that.

I suppose that for a part-timer, you have to prioritise all those other bits at the very least because otherwise you don't have money for food. But the last few weeks have done more than that: rather than seeing my enthusiasm for other times as a weakness, I'm trying to remind myself that I LOVE enthusiasm. I love it in others, and I love it in myself. And having more of that, for more things, surely can't be bad?

And speaking of enthusiasm, guess what?

I can't WAIT to get back to research later this week. 

How to Make Every Session useful

Picture the scene.

You're at a mandatory training session. Or a conference session that isn't in your area. Or a research seminar. 

 

You sit down. You get ready to take notes. Your speaker[s] welcome everyone. And they start. And maybe after 10 minutes, maybe after 15, you think 'oh god: this session is irrelevant....and I'm stuck here until it finishes.'

It happens. It may be that the session doesn't match your interests. Or that you don't gel with the speaker's presentation style. Or maybe you're already familiar with the topic. In any case, you can't really leave. As I see it, you've got three options:

1) Sit there, silently fuming at this poor speaker, and hating anyone who asks a question because they're prolonging the agony.

2) Ignore the speaker. Browse the internet, check twitter, send emails. Try not to feel guilty when the speaker catches your eye.

OR

3) Focus on making the session useful for you.

So, before I adopt 1) or 2) and make the speaker very uncomfortable, I try 3). Here's how.

Wait Before you Check-Out

If a session starts off with information you already know, or on a topic you aren't that interested in, it's tempting to disengage and save yourself the trouble. But, if you've given papers, or delivered sessions yourself, ask yourself some questions. Do you always introduce your key points at the start of every session? Every time? Do you sometimes take a while to warm up when you start a session? Perhaps days where you don't feel up for it? Do you sometimes remember a relevant point when you're in mid-flow and add it in?

From experience, I know that the best part of session I've delivered are very seldom the first 5-10 minutes. I know that I'm guilty of all of the above. Because of this, I try to give the speaker the benefit of the doubt. And very often, there is at least one nugget of useful, thought-provking information somewhere in there. 

Take Part!

This is particularly useful for sessions where you already have quite a lot of knowledge in the area. Retention rates are highest when individuals are asked to teach someone else what they've learned. If the session invites small group discussion, don't hang back. Share your knowledge with the people you're talking with, ask them questions.

A while back, I went on a mandatory training session which replicated training I'd had elsewhere. Although I went in sceptical, when we got to group discussions, the people in group actually challenged me on something. And I realised I didn't know the answer. Apart from being humbled by this, it challenged me to go and read up on that particular area, and fill the gaps in my knowledge.

Don't Focus on What They're Saying...

...focus on how they're saying it. If you're a PhD student, the odds are you'll one day be giving a conference paper, or delivering a lecture, or a seminar. Every example of public speaking is one you can learn from, and this session is no exemption. Is the speaker [over]using power point? How do they introduce their points? Do they look and sound confident? Why? How are they providing the right background without boring those in the know? Are they using notes? Flashcards? Are they winging it?

At my first ever conference, I went to a session that was completely irrelevant to my research. But the person giving it had the most natural, authentic and knowledgeable manner I'd ever seen. I spent the entire 20 minutes taking notes on how they did it. I still refer back to my notes if I'm presenting a lot of complex information. 

Not every session you ever go to is going to be relevant. But since I started trying to engage with every session I attend, I spend a lot less time feeling grumpy and resentful. 

How about you: have you been to any sessions that turned out to be surprisingly useful?

Organisation 101: PhD Edition

I'll be honest: I'm not naturally an organised person. I misplace things; I forget the dates of appointments, and misremember the time. So I have to work extra hard to remember where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing, especially now that my week is divded between work and research.

Laptop. Although it's quite hefty, you'll normally see me lugging around my laptop. This is mainly because I've started using Evernote to take and organise most of my notes. But it also means I can quickly look up references, order books, and add events to my calendar.

'To Do' Book. I find I need goals to focus my mind. So I use this grey notebook to make a plan for each week: what I'm aiming to read, topics I want to write about and questions for my supervisors. More importantly, I use this notebook to set five objectives for each day I'm studying. This means when I always have a sense of direction for my research. (On a sidenote, this notebook is really unglamourous. Any suggetsions for a new look? I think gold spots would be nice.)

Bright and Cheerful Diary. I use this for remembering appointments as and when I remember them. (I have an unfortunate habit of completely forgetting important events if I don't write them down!) But, I also use it to keep a record of the hours I work every day. This sounds a bit anal, I know, but hear me out. By keeping an honest record of when I work, I'm able to figure out my lull periods. So far I've learned that my most productive study days start well before 9am. It also means that I have to be a bit more objective about my work. I can see clearly what I've achieved and how hard I've been working. In a long-term project like this, I think that's important.

My mobile. I know, who doesn't carry their mobile? But I do use mine as a study aide too. Sometimes, I find it much easier to snap a picture of a complex diagram to include alongside my notes. Because I'm using Evernote to take my notes, it's easy to take a photo on my phone, and sync it to my work.

Brightly coloured pens. I know, I only have one pen in the picture so this is sort of a cheat. But! It's only because I left my pens at my desk. When I want to clarify ideas, brainstorm, or plan a piece of writing, I find coloured pens are the best way to organise my ideas. I like these because they're fineline and look really pretty.

Do you have any tips for keeping organised? What are your must-haves?