Catherine left me a comment last week asking about my Masters Degree and ended with another question, “Why didn’t you go on to a PhD and academic career?” I’ve quoted it here with her permission because, as I told her, it’s a long story and I don’t mind sharing.
Truth be told, I did think about an academic career, even while I was an undergraduate. At the university I did my Bachelors (Charles Sturt) I was on friendly terms with several lecturers, one in particular, and admitted my secret ambition. I got a chuckle in return and a “Oh no, you don’t” warning.
Then I went and did my Masters at a city university (Macquarie). I was the youngest in the class by about a decade. They were all evening classes because the majority of the students were high school English teachers wanting to improve their credentials and, by their own admission, reignite the spark for literature which made them want to become teachers in the first place. Evening classes worked fine for me too, as I worked day shifts at the Shell Service Station in North Ryde. I originally was going to do my Masters on Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose– but that first week I looked at the prescribed book list for a literary theory course and bam! there it was. So I set my sights elsewhere – on Matthew Lewis’s The Monk.
At Macquarie, whenever I went to visit my thesis supervisor, I was always surprised at the quietness of the faculty building. No steps echoed along the floor; no feet shuffled up and down stairs. All the doors were shut; a contrast to Charles Sturt, where there was always a door ajar and if you walked past you heard a cough or half-sided telephone conversation of one of the Professors or Lecturers within.
(If I’m talking like someone who has a vague phobia about cavernous, quiet buildings, well – I may have. Except for churches. I still like churches.)
Masters Graduation Day
But love study as I did, once that crammed year was finished, I was spent. Done. Then we hopped on a plane and moved to Melbourne.
Initial job hunting went poorly. I managed to pick up part-time work, but I felt listless; and even though I swore I was done, I still found myself checking out a number of Melbourne’s universities, credentials, academic staff, what students were doing what sort of research, my prospects for PhD candidacy, etc. I did all this knowing that having a PhD – if I got it – didn’t necessarily translate into the beginnings of an academic career. Still, I worked myself up, put together a research proposal, and sent it into a man I’d cited many times in essays but never thought I’d actually ever be personally addressing a proposal to. After a little while he got back to me and said while it had potential it needed more work.
Which I knew. And I honestly don’t think I really intended on taking it further than that. By the time I got the feedback I’d realised it wasn’t what I wanted to do – at least at that point. My original doubts were correct: I was burned out and needed a rest.
Flash forward a few years (post kids) to when I do start thinking about it again. This time with the word: scholarship. Underlined. Except when I started making inquiries as to how I’d go about it, I hit a snag. I needed academic references. Nearly all of my old lecturers had retired – or had forgotten me. Which is understandable, it had been nearly ten years. So if I couldn’t get a reference, I couldn’t get a scholarship, and I think – as far as my family responsibilities go – I at least ought to give one a shot. Or be allowed to.
But no.
One university flat out refused to consider me, even if I asked if I could provide industry (read: publishing) references. Even when my academic records stood up to their admission marks. Which is fine, that’s their right, but I got so angry and frustrated I thought screw it. I’ll wait a while longer. Ironic, I suppose, seeing waiting was what possibly put me out on contention in the first place.
I’m still in my ‘wait a while longer’ phase. I went to Melbourne University’s Open Day late last year, and will go to them if I decide to go back because I like the way their creative writing PhD is set up. If they’ll have me.
Trouble is, I can’t decide what I want to do it on.
That’s the trickiest question of all. I’ll go into that another day.
