Traversing The Doctorate: Reflections and Strategies From Students, Supervisors and Administrators

PALGRAVE STUDIES IN
EDUCATION RESEARCH METHODS
Traversing the Doctorate

Reflections and Strategies
from Students, Supervisors
and Administrators
Edited by
Tanya M. Machin
Marc Clarà
Patrick Alan Danaher
Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods
Series Editors
University of Southern Queensland
Toowoomba, QLD, Australia
Fred Dervin
University of Helsinki
Helsinki, Finland
Caroline Dyer
School of Politics and International Studies
University of Leeds
Leeds, UK
Máirín Kenny
Independent researcher
Wexford, Ireland
Bobby Harreveld
School of Education and the Arts
Central Queensland University
Rockhampton, Australia
Michael Singh
Centre for Educational Research
Western Sydney University
Penrith, NSW, Australia
This series explores contemporary manifestations of the fundamental par-
adox that lies at the heart of education: that education contributes to the
creation of economic and social divisions and the perpetuation of socio-
cultural marginalisation, while also providing opportunities for individual
empowerment and social transformation. In exploring this paradox, the
series investigates potential alternatives to current educational provision
and speculates on more enabling and inclusive educational futures for
individuals, communities, nations and the planet. Specific developments
and innovation in teaching and learning, educational policy-making and
education research are analysed against the backdrop of these broader
developments and issues.
More information about this series at

http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/15092
Tanya M. Machin · Marc Clarà ·
Editors
Traversing
the Doctorate
Reflections and Strategies
from Students, Supervisors
and Administrators
Editors
Tanya M. Machin Marc Clarà
School of Psychology and Counselling Department of Psychology
University of Southern Queensland University of Lleida
Toowoomba, QLD, Australia Lleida, Spain

Faculty of Business, Education, Law
and Arts
University of Southern Queensland
Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods

ISBN 978-3-030-23730-1 ISBN 978-3-030-23731-8 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8
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xx Notes on Contributors
For doctoral students, supervisors and administrators, and all those who
empower and enable their work to empower and enable others in turn.
Foreword
“To move, to brathe, to fly, to float, to gain all while you give, to roam
the roads of lands remote, to travel is to live”. What better reflection on
traversing the doctorate can there be than this famous quotation from
the great Danish poet Hans Christian Andersen, taken from his book
on his own life journey? This quotation, used here as a metaphor, not
only encapsulates the essence of the physical experience of travelling,
but also provides a description of what it is to go through a process of
roaming, navigating and learning hitherto unknown realms.
Therefore, “to travel is to live” but it also brings to life new knowl-
edge. This move enables a change of perspective, and, more importantly,
allows for the subsequent emergence of a doctoral student or a supervi-
sor as an altered person. Everybody who has been through the process
of traversing the doctorate will acknowledge this, although the change
often will show up incrementally over time as new types of research,
and different insights and expectations from the surroundings will be a
reality.
Throughout the process of traversing the doctorate, as well as the
responses noted above, there may be psychological reactions, often in
response to changes in everyday life. Often doctoral studies imply
vii
viii Notes
xx Foreword
on Contributors
periods of work at other universities to obtain supervision and to access

more resources. With all these changes, there may be many difficult sit-
uations and hours of doubt.
In this important book on traversing the doctorate, you will find sup-
port for your own journey as a student or as the supervisor of a candi-
date undertaking a doctorate. This applies to any aspect that calls for
a need to read what other people, having been in the same situation,
have experienced, and it perhaps will advise or recommend ways of nav-
igating the lonely ride and the abyss that now and then overshadow the
positive aspects of completing the doctoral thesis.
This important book will also provide inspiration for those at univer-
sities and elsewhere managing the doctoral process and who are respon-
sible for the allocation of resources and structural issues of importance.
Traversing the doctorate implies “crossing over” in a rollercoaster pro-
cess where you, through this turbulent process, gain both new knowl-
edge and academic recognition. Hence, at the end of the day, this
achievement will provide the cornerstone for new insights, new relations,
a growing personality and a new position in the research community of
practice. So, dear reader and user of this book: “Happy Traversing” and
do remember the famous but true words: “To travel is to live”.
Esbjerg, Denmark Christian Quvang

Docent, Ph.D. and Psychologist
Christian Quvang, Associate Professor at the University College of Southern

Denmark, conducts research for the Ministry of Education and the Ministry
for Social Affairs with focus on inclusion in Denmark. He is responsible for
research and development projects and presentations in institutions, organisa-
tions, municipalities and regions and cooperation with several NGO associa-
tions on inclusion and exclusion. He teaches Danish and International master,
bachelor and diploma level courses. He is lead and co-lead on various EU
ERASMUS projects and at the present and until 2021 the lead in the project
SPISEY or “Supporting and promoting practices and policies for inclusion,
schooling, education and work for youth”.
Acknowledgements
The editors are very grateful to the following individuals, without whom
this book would not have been published:
• The contributing chapter authors who have shared their experiences

and knowledge of doctoral study, supervision and administration.
• Ms. Eleanor Christie, Ms. Becky Wyde and their colleagues from
Palgrave Macmillan for being efficient and encouraging publishers of
the book.
• Associate Professor Christian Quvang from the University College of
Southern Denmark for writing the Foreword to the book.
• Ms. Meredith Harmes for providing exemplary project management
of the book, including organising the editors, typesetting the manu-
script and composing the index with her customary diplomacy and
initiative.
• Associate Professor Marcus Harmes for his multiple contributions to
ensuring the book’s clarity and quality.
• Colleagues who reviewed individual chapters in the book.
• Ms. Jodie Gunders for her earlier work in commencing the book
project.
ix
x
xx
Acknowledgements
Notes on Contributors
• Ms. Hazel Harrower and Ms. Katrina Wilson from the University of
Southern Queensland, Australia for providing helpful administrative
support.
• Our colleagues from the University of Southern Queensland, Australia
and the University of Lleida, Spain for helping to create collegial and
congenial working environments.
Contents
1 Traversing the Doctorate: Situating Scholarship

and Identifying Issues 1
Tanya M. Machin, Marc Clarà and Patrick Alan Danaher
Part I Designing the Doctorate
2 Conceptual Review of Digital Competences

for Doctoral Supervision 15
Guillermo Bautista and Anna Escofet
3 Confirmation of Candidature: An Autoethnographic

Reflection from the Dual Identities of Student
and Research Administrator 29
Cristy L. Bartlett and Douglas C. Eacersall
4 Communicating “Success” with Research Students:

Institutional Responsibilities in Encouraging
a Culture of Research Higher Degree Completions
57
Mark Emmerson
xi
xii
xx Contents
5 A Picture of the Research Field of Doctoral

Education from the Students’ Perspectives: Studies
Using Questionnaires and Scales 75
Maria Cerrato Lara, Montserrat Castelló Badia
and Kirsti Lonka
6 Engineering the Doctorate: Designing

a Highway to Traverse 91
Jay Somasundaram and Prue Howard
Part II Supervising the Doctorate
7 Research on Doctoral Supervision:

What We Have Learnt in the Last 10 Years 117
Gabriela González-Ocampo and Montserrat Castelló Badia
8 Doctoral Supervision as a Relational Endeavour,

a Pedagogical Commitment and Reciprocal Growth 143
Nona Press, Dolene Rossi, Coralie Graham
and Patrick Alan Danaher
9 Shifting Players: Supervision Changes During

the Ph.D. Journey 165
Jennifer Tatebe
10 Writing Regularly as a Thesis-Completion Strategy

179
Brian Martin
Part III Relationships in the Doctorate
11 Tiptoeing Around the Institution? Doctoral

Supervision in the Knowledge Economy 197
Atholl Murray and Cecily Jensen-Clayton
xx Notes on Contributors Contents xiii
12 Creating a Community of Practice

in a Practice-Led Ph.D. 217
Sarah Peters and Janet McDonald
13 Looking for, Learning from and Finally Becoming

the Voice of Experience: A Communities of Practice
Perspective on the Doctoral Journey 237
Aastha Malhotra
14 Supervising at a Distance: The Transformation

of Assistance during a Doctoral Journey across
Different Continents 253
Bernadita Justiniano, Teresa Mauri and Marc Clarà
15 Experiencing the Journey Together: The Role

of Social Support during the Doctorate 269
Tanya M. Machin and Renée L. Parsons-Smith
16 You’re My Anchor and My Sail: A Metaphor

for a Successful Supervisor/Supervisee Relationship
287
Jennifer Donovan
17 The Effects of Unsupportive Supervision

on Doctorate Completions 303
Robert Templeton
Part IV Travelling Through the Doctorate
18 A Transforming Researcher: How Did I Get Here?

The Life of a First-Year Student Undertaking
the Doctor of Education 323
Clayton Lawrence
19 Staying on Track: A Targeted Approach to Managing

the Ph.D. Journey 339
Joanne Doyle
xiv
xx Notes
Contents
on Contributors
20 Strategies for Ph.D. Completion: A Critical

Reflection by Completed Ph.D. Candidates 355
Jessica Z. Marrington and Evita March
21 Traversing through Reversing: Using Doctoral

Studies to Juxtapose Research with Practice
371
Lindy Kimmins
22 Depression, Doctorates and Self

393
Robert Templeton
23 Exploring the Transition Between Doctoral Student

and Early Career Academic: A New Perspective
on Activity Systems 409
Kevin Larkin
429
Index
Montserrat Castelló Badia is Full Professor in Educational Psychology

and Director of the Research Institute on Applied Psychology at
Universitat Ramon Llull in Barcelona, Spain. Her research interests
include early career researcher writing and identity development.
Cristy L. Bartlett is an Associate Lecturer and Learning Advisor
(Engineering, Built Environment and Information Technology) at the
University of Southern Queensland (USQ), Australia. She has extensive
experience in higher degree by research administration, and is a member
of the Australian Collaboratory for Career, Employability & Learning
for Living (ACCELL) at USQ, a multidisciplinary research team with a
focus on adaptive capacity and career learning. Her research interests are
in education, the psychology of work, research development and train-
ing, and individual differences.
Dr. Guillermo Bautista holds a Ph.D. in Education and is an
Associate Professor and researcher in the Faculty of Education at the
Open University of Catalonia, and is also a member of the research
group Learning Environments and Materials.
xv
xvi Notes
xx Noteson
onContributors
Contributors
Dr. Maria Cerrato Lara is a Lecturer in Educational Psychology

at the Universitat Internacional de Catalunya (UIC Barcelona)
since September 2016. She was awarded her Ph.D. by Ramon Llull
University in 2014. Her doctoral thesis explores the relationship
between writing conceptions and psychological well-being in Ph.D.
students. Maria did her pre-doctoral stay at the University of Helsinki
(2012), and was a guest Lecturer at the Aalto University School of
Business in Finland (2013). Before moving to UIC Barcelona, she was a
postdoc researcher at Oxford Brookes University (2015–2016).
Marc Clarà (Ph.D. in Psychology) is a Serra Húnter Fellow at the
University of Lleida. His research interests include teachers’ reflec-
tion, teachers’ emotion and decision making, and dialogic educational
interaction, especially collective inquiry. Currently he is the Principal
Investigator of the NARRES project (funded by the Ministry of
Economy and Business of Spain), which investigates the narrative medi-
ation of teachers’ emotions.
Patrick Alan Danaher is Professor in Educational Research in the
School of Education at the Toowoomba campus of the University of
Southern Queensland, Australia. He is also an Adjunct Professor in the
School of Education and the Arts at Central Queensland University,
Australia, and Docent in Social Justice and Education at the University
of Helsinki, Finland. His research interests include the education of
occupationally mobile communities; education research ethics, meth-
ods, politics and theories; and academics’, educators’ and researchers’
work and identities.
Dr. Jennifer Donovan lectures in Education, particularly Science,
at the University of Southern Queensland, Australia. From a B.Sc.
(Botany) she enjoyed 14 years of teaching high school, then 10 years
of teaching anything from mosses to muscles and stars to cells at
Edith Cowan and Curtin Universities. From the Western Australian
Curriculum Council, she moved into research, culminating in her
prize-winning doctorate on the influence of mass media on primary
school students’ understandings of genes and DNA. Author/co-author
of 7 chapters and 17 articles, she has supervised 1 doctoral student to
completion and has 7 more in various stages of their journeys.
xx Notes on Contributors Notes on Contributors xvii
Dr. Joanne Doyle has been an Honorary Research Associate with

the University of Southern Queensland (USQ), Australia since 2016.
Prior to this, Joanne held the position of Research Proposal and Project
Manager with USQ’s Australian Digital Futures Institute. Joanne has
a background in project management, stakeholder engagement and
policy formulation, and has worked in business, industry and regional
development. In 2017, Joanne completed a Ph.D. exploring the real-
world influences of research undertaken in Australian higher education
institutions.
Douglas C. Eacersall is a Lecturer and Learning Advisor (Higher Degree
by Research) at the University of Southern Queensland, Australia. His
research interests are in education, technology enhanced learning, research
development and training, identity and popular culture. He has worked
on a number of research projects in the areas of education, history and
sociolinguistics, including a major Australian Research Council project
examining language and cultural maintenance in the Australian Sudanese
community. He has presented research from these projects at various
Australian and international research conferences.
Dr. Mark Emmerson completed a Ph.D. in Australian Migration
History in 2015, while working professionally in the Higher Degree
by Research (HDR) sector at the University of Southern Queensland,
Australia.
Dr. Anna Escofet holds a Ph.D. in Education and is a teacher at
the University of Barcelona. She is a member of the research group
Learning Environments and Materials.
Gabriela González-Ocampo is coordinator of innovation and research
projects at UPAEP University in Puebla, México and researcher in the
SINTE-Lest team at Universitat Ramon Llull. Her research interests
include postgraduate education, supervision and research writing.
Coralie Graham is an Associate Professor in the School of Nursing and
Midwifery at the University of Southern Queensland, Australia, where
she teaches undergraduate students and supervises postgraduate stu-
dents. She is dually registered as a Registered Nurse and a Psychologist,
xviii Notes
xx Notesonon Contributors
Contributors
and she has worked in a number of roles in both professional capacities.

Coralie’s research interests include resilience, equity, stroke treatment
and fatigue related to brain trauma.
Prue Howard is an Associate Professor, mechanical engineer and mem-
ber of the Transport and Safety Science team at Central Queensland
University, Australia. She is Past President of the Australasian
Association for Engineering Education, and former Editor of the
Australasian Journal for Engineering Education. She has a B.Eng. (Mech),
an M.E. in Dynamics and a Professional Doctorate in Transdisciplinary
Studies. Prue has received National Awards in the areas of Women in
Engineering and Curriculum Innovation, as well as having received
the University’s Vice-Chancellor’s Award for Quality Teaching and the
Deans Award for Teaching Excellence twice. Since 1994 her research
in engineering education has resulted in significant publications and
grants. A major outcome of early grants was the evidence to introduce
PBL initially as a philosophy, and then as the basis for the University’s
Carrick Award winning engineering programs. Since 1998 she has been
involved in research in the area of safe design and the transdisciplinary
teaching of safe design.
Cecily Jensen-Clayton works as a mentor and researcher, which draws
on her background in business, education, and theology. Cecily’s cur-
rent projects include mentoring postgraduate students, providing
spiritual guidance to women for effective leadership and contributing to
the well-being of persons and their communities in Queensland’s rural,
regional, and remote areas.
Dr. Bernadita Justiniano (Ph.D. in Educational Psychology) is
a research teacher and curricular coordinator at the Casa Grande
University, Guayaquil. She is currently part of the NARRES Ecuador
team, which investigates the narrative mediation of teachers’ emo-
tions, coordinates the action research project “Reading and Writing at
the University, an issue for everyone” and is a master’s thesis guide on
parental interactions to promote child development.
Lindy Kimmins worked for many years in student development and
support at the University of Southern Queensland, Australia. Her roles
included Learning Advisor, tutor in the Tertiary Preparation Program,
Notes on Contributors xix
Lecturer (Student Support and Development) and lastly Coordinator

of Peer Learning. Her interest was always in guiding students in their
learning and encouraging their academic development, particularly via
the peer-assisted learning initiatives and programs with which she was
involved for 23 years. She managed the peer-assisted learning program,
Meet-Up, from its inception in 2008 until her retirement at the end of
2017. She now works full-time on recalibrating her life and part-time
on her doctorate, which was commenced in 2016.
Dr. Kevin Larkin is a Senior Lecturer (Mathematics Education) at
Griffith University, Australia. He is a member of a number of research
teams investigating: STEM education in early years education; mathe-
matics education in primary and middle school contexts; and pre-service
teacher mathematics education. He has published widely in national and
international publications in the areas of mathematics education, digital
technologies, early years STEM, higher education and Activity Theory.
He is an editor of the Mathematics Education Research Journal (MERJ)
and Chief Editor of the International Journal for Mathematics Teaching
and Learning (IJMTL). He is a Senior Fellow of the Higher Education
Academy and Senior Fellow of the Griffith Learning and Teaching
Academy. He is the inaugural Chapter Chair for the Arts Education and
Law Group Learning and Teaching Academy. Kevin has received numer-
ous awards for his teaching, including Griffith University Teacher of the
Year in 2016, a National Citation for Inspiring Learning in 2017 and
the Australian University Teacher of the Year Award in 2018.
Clayton Lawrence is presently undertaking his research at the
University of Southern Queensland, Australia, having his candidature
confirmed in 2018. His research question is, “How does professional
development align in the construction workplace when consider-
ing integrated management systems?” Gathering data in his research,
Clayton will be using the Charmaz grounded theory approach. Clayton
also audits quality, safety and environment management systems for
businesses to gain international certification.
Kirsti Lonka is Full Professor in Educational Psychology and Director
of the Research Group of Educational Psychology at the University of
Helsinki in Finland. Her research interests include motivation, learning
and epistemic cognition of university students, Ph.D. students, teachers

and pupils. She specialises in innovative teaching and learning methods.
Dr. Tanya M. Machin is a Lecturer in Psychology and Counselling at
the School of Psychology and Counselling at the University of Southern
Queensland, Australia. Tanya’s Ph.D. focused on the need to belong and
Facebook. Her more recent research focuses on social media and devel-
opmental psychology topics. She also has an interest in research ethics.
Dr. Aastha Malhotra is a Lecturer in Human Services at the University
of Southern Queensland, Australia. She holds a Masters in Human
Services and a Ph.D. in Management from the University of Queensland,
where she examined the impact of blurring boundaries among the non-
profit, public and for-profit sectors on organisational functioning.
Aastha considers herself a pracademic and brings with her 15 years of
practitioner experience with non-profit organisations, social enterprises
and government bodies in India, Canada and Australia. Her key inter-
ests include enhancing student learning by embedding practice into the
classroom, non-profit leadership and strategy development, and enter-
prise capacity-building. Her academic portfolio includes publications in
peer-reviewed platforms, reviewing for conferences and journals, teach-
ing in the area of community development, non-profit management
and leadership, and social enterprise development. She is also a member
of relevant management associations and groups. She continues to be
actively involved in the industry through management seminars, con-
sulting projects, serving as an adjudicator for the Australasian Reporting
Awards and giving advice (sometimes unsolicited) to non-profit practi-
tioners and social entrepreneurs.
Dr. Evita March is a Senior Lecturer in Psychology and is cur-
rently employed at Federation University Australia, Victoria, Berwick
Campus. She is the Psychology Discipline Coordinator of Online
Engagement. Evita teaches unto the undergraduate program, and
supervises honours and higher degree research students. Evita’s areas
of research expertise include mate preferences, personality and online
behaviours, and she is a member of the International Society for the
Study of Individual Differences (ISSID).
Notes on Contributors xxi
Dr. Jessica Z. Marrington is a Senior Lecturer in the School of

Psychology and Counselling at the University of Southern Queensland,
Ipswich Campus, Australia. In the School, Jessica is the Undergraduate
Program Coordinator and the Coordinator for Learning and Teaching.
Jessica teaches into the undergraduate psychology program, and super-
vises honours and higher degree research students. Her research interests
include fundamental cognitive processes, self-regulation, and the psy-
chological and interpersonal aspects of social media.
Brian Martin is Emeritus Professor of Social Sciences at the University
of Wollongong, Australia. He is the author of 18 books and hundreds of
articles on nonviolence, dissent, scientific controversies, tactics against
injustice, information issues, democracy, education and other issues.
Dr. Teresa Mauri (Ph.D. in Psychology) is a teacher and Professor at the
University of Barcelona. She has researched, promoted and co-directed
works on the development of the school curriculum, the analysis of the
interaction processes in educational situations, learning assessment and
innovation, and teaching and evaluation in higher education and spe-
cifically in the practicum period of primary teachers-to-be. Her current
research focuses on two major areas: first, the study of the formation and
development of teachers’ practical knowledge, based on the analysis of
the collaborative reflection between teachers in professional contexts, and
between tutors and teacher-students in the practicum period; second,
evaluation and formative feedback in higher education. She coordinates
the line of research named “Joint activity, knowledge and learning in pro-
fessional communities: Teachers and students learning together and edu-
cational communities in development” in the Interuniversity Doctoral
Program on Educational Psychology (DIPE).
Dr. Janet McDonald received her Ph.D. from Arizona State University
in 1999. She was the Head of the School of Creative Arts, and is cur-
rently an Associate Professor lecturing in Drama and Theatre Studies,
at the University of Southern Queensland, Australia. She was Chair of
Youth Arts Queensland, the State’s peak body for youth arts, from 2008–
2013, and she was co-recipient of the Australian Learning and Teaching
Council Citation for Outstanding Contribution to Student Learning
xxii
xx Notes
Noteson
onContributors
Contributors
(2009). Her research areas are in well-being and liminal arts practices
in regional areas, which were featured in her co-edited book Creative
Communities: Regional Inclusion in the Arts (Intellect, 2015).
Atholl Murray has a background in education, psychology and coun-
selling. His doctoral study examined men’s experiences of intimacy and
how these varied according to individuals’ self-perceptions and self-
development. Currently, Atholl works with young people and adults,
through psychotherapy, to increase their capacity to cope with, and
flourish in, an increasingly complex world.
Dr. Renée L. Parsons-Smith Ph.D., MAPS is an early career academic
currently working across multiple universities. Renée typically teaches
into undergraduate psychology courses, and is an active researcher.
Her research area of interest is predominantly mood and performance.
More specifically, Renée focuses on mood profiling within diverse con-
texts, as well as interacting in positive and negative mood-performance
relationships.
Dr. Sarah Peters is a theatre artist and practice-led researcher. Her
verbatim plays engage with communities to tell the shared stories of
experience, such as women living with alopecia in bald heads & blue
stars, young people navigating mental health and well-being in twel-
ve2twentyfive, the experience of growing up in regional Queensland in
Eternity and pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago looking for belonging
in Blister. Her research traverses articulating the creative process of ver-
batim and devised works, investigating the impact of performance and
engaging with alternative research methodologies and playwriting strat-
egies for theatrically representing lived experience.
Dr. Nona Press is a Senior Lecturer, Curriculum and Learning Design
at the Queensland University of Technology, Australia. The focus of her
role has been the professional practice development of in-service educa-
tors and practitioners. Her professional practice, research and scholar-
ship have centred on curriculum and pedagogies that engage students
and practitioners in learning and, in turn, enhance the quality of edu-
cational experience, particularly through technological means. Her
Notes on Contributors xxiii
professional practice has allowed her to pursue a research agenda and

a broad research interest in the preparation of students for professional
practice across many disciplines.
Dr. Dolene Rossi is a Senior Lecturer in the School of Nursing,
Midwifery and Social Sciences at the North Rockhampton campus of
Central Queensland University, Australia. She contributes to the learn-
ing of undergraduate students who are preparing for professional prac-
tice as Registered Nurses, and she supervises research higher degree
students; she is also a member of the Central Queensland Hospital
Health Service Human Research Ethics Committee. Her research inter-
ests include innovative education, with an emphasis on online learn-
ing contexts, learner interaction and collaborative learning, and Health
Service Delivery, specifically nursing and midwifery roles, scope of prac-
tice, and quality and safety in health care.
Jay Somasundaram graduated as an engineer and had a career that
spanned several disciplines and industry sectors, including an Australian
university. He has retired from the workforce and is undertaking a
Ph.D. as a vehicle for pursuing his scholarly interests.
Dr. Jennifer Tatebe is a Senior Lecturer in the School of Critical
Studies in Education at the University of Auckland, New Zealand. Her
work examines the transformative potential of education in disadvan-
taged contexts by exploring the socioeconomic and political contexts of
these educational spaces and their influence on teaching and learning.
Dr. Robert Templeton completed his Doctor of Education research
degree in 2015 as a student at the University of Southern Queensland
(USQ), Australia. His research interests include doctorate motiva-
tion from a Self-determination Theory perspective. He is currently an
Independent Researcher and Ph.D. student (USQ).
List of Figures
Fig. 3.1 A student’s response to feedback from a confirmation panel 51

Fig. 6.1 A diagrammatic representation of the two types of degrees 98
Fig. 6.2 Comparison of instructional design models
(Somasundaram et al., 2006) 99
Fig. 7.1 Distribution of studies by countries 123
Fig. 8.1 Methodological fusion in qualitative inquiry
(Adapted from Press, 2017) 148
Fig. 8.2 Outcome space for categories of description
in a hierarchical form 158
Fig. 13.1 Juxtaposing my doctoral journey against
CoP participation and learning frameworks 239
Fig. 19.1 Two-year graph of my doctoral journey showing
weekly satisfaction rating 348
Fig. 23.1 System one (attainment of EdD) (Larkin, 2009, p. 56) 414
Fig. 23.2 System two (academic career) (Larkin, 2009, p. 57) 414
Fig. 23.3 System three (EPS—Gold Coast) (Larkin, 2009, p. 59) 415
Fig. 23.4 Emphasising the active subject in a university
CoP activity system 423
xxv
List of Tables
Table 5.1 Studies using questionnaires and scales measuring

Ph.D. students’ experiences on a large scale 79
Table 5.2 The content of studies focusing on specific aspects
of the Ph.D. experience 80
Table 5.3 A descriptive analysis of the studies 81
Table 6.1 The theoretical framework of the analysis 92
Table 6.2 The logics of degrees 103
Table 7.1 Distribution of the type of participants 122
Table 7.2 Distribution of the methods applied for data collection 124
Table 7.3 Purposes of research on supervision 125
Table 7.4 Distribution of the studies based on their research
purposes and methods 132
Table 8.1 Study participants 149
Table 8.2 Summary of the referential and structural aspect
of the conceptions 157
Table 23.1 Doctoral student vs. ECA symposium presentations:
An example of an act of transversal within activity systems 418
xxvii
1
Traversing the Doctorate: Situating
Scholarship and Identifying Issues
Tanya M. Machin, Marc Clarà and Patrick Alan Danaher
Introduction
Research about doctoral students, supervisors and programs is exten-
sive, and continues to grow rapidly. As we elaborate below, the proposi-
tions and themes emerging from that research are diverse, and represent
assumptions and perspectives from multiple disciplines and paradigms.
At the same time, it is possible to discern some common concerns and
abiding interests in that research that constitute stable landmarks that in
turn facilitate efforts directed at “traversing the doctorate”.
This chapter presents a necessarily distilled overview of selected liter-
ature relating to doctoral study and supervision, including highlighting
T. M. Machin (*)
School of Psychology and Counselling,
University of Southern Queensland, Toowoomba, QLD, Australia
e-mail: tanya.machin@usq.edu.au
M. Clarà
Department of Psychology, University of Lleida, Lleida, Spain
© The Author(s) 2019 1
T. M. Machin et al. (eds.), Traversing the Doctorate,
Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_1
2
T. M. Machin et al.
some significant foci of that scholarship. This overview is followed by an

account of the book’s structure and organising questions, as well as of
the strategies for maximising the rigour of its chapters.
Situating the Scholarship and Identifying Its

Issues
The literature related to doctoral study and supervision is both extensive
and growing. Moreover, this literature reflects the separate and shared
viewpoints of students and supervisors. Some publications highlight the
micro-level experiences of individual doctoral research teams, while oth-
ers draw attention to the wider contexts in which such teams carry out
their work.
More specifically, one of the recurring foci in the scholarship per-
taining to doctoral study and supervision is the increasing profession-
alisation of such study and supervision. This professionalisation refers
to a move from a largely individualised and private intellectual space
to a more clearly defined, visible and accountable set of relationships
geared towards the attainment of prespecified outcomes. While some
researchers have examined these changes in terms of heightened con-
trol and managerialism (e.g., Matos, 2013) and vocationalism (Dahan,
2007), others have viewed such developments as explicit research train-
ing, codes of research practice and supervisor training workshops more
positively (e.g., Humphrey, Marshall, & Leonardo, 2012; McCulloch &
Loeser, 2016). Other indicators of enhanced professionalisation include
positing “…that the goal of doctoral supervision is praxis and that
P. A. Danaher
Faculty of Business, Education, Law & Arts,
e-mail: patrick.danaher@usq.edu.au
Central Queensland University, Rockhampton, QLD, Australia
University of Helsinki, Helsinki, Finland
1 Traversing the Doctorate: Situating Scholarship …
3
this involves a learning alliance between multiple institutional agents

grounded in a relational ethics of mutual responsibility” (Halse &
Bansel, 2012, p. 377).
Another important focus of the doctoral study and supervision schol-
arship is the increased concentration on the significance of understand-
ing the experiential knowledge of doctoral students and supervisors. For
example, Bastalich (2017) noted “…the need for a greater emphasis on
content and context learning within future research and practice around
doctoral education” (p. 1145). Engaging with this challenge, Fulton
and Hayes (2017) elaborated a “based superstructure model” (p. 1) of
a professional doctoral program that included retrospective experien-
tial knowledge. Meloy (2012) presented a lively account of doctoral
students’ decision-making processes, reflections on methodology and
academic writing strategies. From a different perspective, Gray, Agllias,
Schubert and Boddy (2015) applied three feminist research principles
to accentuate the centrality of women’s experiences in doctoral study,
and Dortch (2016) researched the academic self-efficacy of African
American women in doctoral education, while Naidoo (2015) explored
the experiences of non-traditional doctoral students through the lens
of their habitus. Whitehead (2019) confirmed the wider relevance of
self-studies and other publications that explicate the experiential dimen-
sion with his assertion that such work contributes “…to creating and
democratizing knowledge” (p. 97). We concur that the demystification
of doctoral study and supervision through such means as highlighting
the experiential dimension can indeed contribute to democratising such
study and supervision and to maximising its social impact.
A third significant focus of the doctoral study and supervision schol-
arship is related to the associations between such doctoral study and
supervision on the one hand and broader issues connected with the
national and international knowledge economy on the other hand. For
instance, Wildy, Peden and Chan (2015) linked the increased pop-
ularity of professional doctorates with the respective knowledge econ-
omies in Australia, China and Iceland, while Armsby, Costley and
Cranfield (2018) stressed the broader significance of doctoral programs:
“…a wider understanding of the values and purpose of doctoral edu-
cation within and beyond the academy that recognises the production
4
T. M. Machin et al.
of knowledge through practice, and supports ethical social action”

(p. 2226). Two different perspectives on conceptualising this broader
significance were provided by focusing on knowledge manage-
ment (Stamou, 2017) and on moral positions (Hancock, Hughes, &
Walsh, 2017).
Finally in this section of the chapter, while most of the literature per-
taining to doctoral study is understandably written by and for doctoral
students and supervisors, it is appropriate to acknowledge the subset
of that literature composed from the standpoint of administrators. For
example, Pifer and Baker (2016) included program administrators as a
distinct group as being able and required to enact distinctive strategies
in the authors’ proposed stage-based approach to support in doctoral
education. Zhou and Okahana (2019) investigated the relative impact
of academic and financial support provided by departmental admin-
istrators on doctoral students’ completion times in the United States,
while Rockinson-Szapkiw, Spaulding and Spaulding (2016) considered
a broader range of administrative and other support services for online
doctoral students, also in the United States. Still in the United States,
the perceptions of administrators of a doctoral program for nursing stu-
dents were recorded in relation to the program’s impact on academic
staff members (Smeltzer et al., 2017). Likewise, a study by McGovern
and Zimmerman (2018) found that administrators play an important
role in enhancing the effectiveness of social work doctoral programs in
the United States. More widely, Johnson, Nicola and Hobson (2018)
evaluated the utility of a whole-of-institution, extended orientation pro-
gram for doctoral students at an Australian university, concluding that
the program “…demonstrates the ways in which ALL practitioners can
lead such programs by combining the roles of specialists in academic
language and learning and content deliverers with the roles of partner-
ships and collaboration” (p. A175).
These four foci of the doctoral study and supervision literature—the
increasing professionalisation of such study and supervision, under-
standing doctoral students’ and supervisors’ experiences, links with the
national and international knowledge economy, and the influence and
interests of program administrators—help to situate the doctoral study
and supervision scholarship against the backdrop of its intersection
5
with, and contribution to, literature derived from diverse disciplines

and paradigms, such as gender studies and research into minority
groups’ access to and success in higher education. This scholarship
in turn assists in identifying current issues and possible strategies to
address those issues, including the character of appropriate support ser-
vices for doctoral students and supervisors, and the roles and responsi-
bilities of program administrators in providing such services.
Structuring the Book and Maximising Its Rigour

The subsequent chapters in this book take further this project of situ-
ating the doctoral study and supervision scholarship, and also of iden-
tifying the issues pertaining to such study and supervision, from the
perspectives of their respective concerns and foci. The 22 remaining
chapters have been clustered around four sections that in combination
encapsulate many of the themes of the literature adduced here: design-
ing the doctorate; supervising the doctorate; relationships in the doctor-
ate; and travelling through the doctorate. The chapter authors represent
doctoral research in Australia, Chile, Finland, New Zealand and Spain.
The content of these chapters is intentionally diverse and highly
contextualised, reflecting the differentiated impact of specific disci-
plines, paradigms and professions. At the same time, and in totality,
the authors have included in their respective chapters material designed
to address the following organising questions that underpin the book
as a whole, and that thereby contribute to its overall coherence. While
detailed responses to these questions appear in the subsequent chap-
ters, we have added here some synthesised overviews of those responses
that serve also to afford some sense of the diversity of the chapters that
succeed this one, while noting that many chapters have contributed to
addressing more than one question:
1. Which different kinds of approaches are adopted to designing and imple-

menting doctoral programs?
Healthy doctoral programs exhibit considerable diversity in how they
are designed and implemented. Guillermo Bautista and Anna Escofet
6
T. M. Machin et al.
(Chapter 2) insist that digital competences and the judicious use of

information and communication technologies are crucial for effec-
tive doctoral study and supervision. Clayton Lawrence (Chapter 18)
adopts a more philosophical approach, and proposes metánoia as the
fundamental changing of one’s mind as being the ultimate goal of the
learning associated with doctoral study. Lindy Kimmins (Chapter 21)
explains how her own doctoral study reversed the usual steps and was
a retrospective analysis of her previous practice during many years,
thereby accentuating the variability in approaches to designing and
implementing such study.
2. What are the identified stages of the doctoral process, and which strategies
are successful in facilitating students’ completion of those stages?
Effective doctoral programs contain clearly differentiated stages
and equally differentiated strategies that accompany those stages.
Cristy L. Bartlett and Douglas C. Eacersall (Chapter 3) outline sev-
eral strategies for maximising students’ success in confirmation of
candidature, one of the key stages associated with doctoral study.
Brian Martin (Chapter 10) extols the benefits of a systematic pro-
gram of regular writing in helping doctoral students to complete
their theses. Joanne Doyle (Chapter 19) urges a project management
approach underpinning all stages of the doctoral journey as being
crucial to students’ achievement in that journey. Similarly, Jessica Z.
Marrington and Evita March (Chapter 20) mobilise critical reflection
on the identified stages of their doctoral study to elicit the underlying
strategies for their success.
3. Which varied kinds of experiences do students, supervisors and adminis-
trators have in the doctoral process?
Students, supervisors and administrators exhibit convergent and
divergent experiences as they traverse the doctoral process. Jennifer
Tatebe (Chapter 9) reflects on what can sometimes be disruptive,
even traumatic, for doctoral students but what was successful ulti-
mately for her own doctoral study: changes to the supervisory team
during the candidature. Gabriela González-Ocampo and Montserrat
Castelló Badia (Chapter 7) use a comprehensive literature review to
7
articulate the corresponding and sometimes very different experi-

ences of doctoral supervisors from those of their students. Nona
Press, Dolene Rossi, Coralie Graham and Patrick Alan Danaher
(Chapter 8) elaborate those experiences in terms of conceptualising
doctoral supervision as a relational endeavour. Robert Templeton
(Chapter 22) displays considerable courage in eliciting the implica-
tions for doctoral student support and program administration aris-
ing from his personal experiences of depression.
4. Which conceptual frameworks and methodological approaches are effec-
tive in highlighting those diverse experiences?
Doctoral programs benefit from the generation of insights emerging
from applying robust conceptual frameworks and rigorous methodo-
logical approaches. Jay Somasundaram and Prue Howard (Chapter 6)
advocate institutional logics as providing a productive conceptual
framework for understanding doctoral students’ learning journeys.
Maria Cerrato Lara, Montserrat Castelló Badia and Kirsti Lonka
(Chapter 5) interrogate the utility of questionnaires and scales as a
productive methodology for researching about doctoral students’
experiences. Atholl Murray and Cecily Jensen-Clayton (Chapter 11)
make a compelling case for mobilising the concept of the knowledge
economy in order to understand both the affordances and the con-
straints attending doctoral supervisors’ relationships with their stu-
dents. Kevin Larkin (Chapter 23) demonstrates the conceptual utility
of combining activity systems and community of practice theories
as a lens for analysing his transition from doctoral student to early
career academic.
5. Which criteria are appropriate in which contexts in reflecting on the
impact, quality and relevance of doctoral programs?
It is important for evaluations of doctoral programs to be framed
in terms of clearly identified criteria for assessing their success.
Bernadita Justiniano, Teresa Mauri and Marc Clarà (Chapter 14)
consider the reasons for, and the effectiveness of, proactive changes
to doctoral supervisors’ assistance for their student when she and they
were living in different continents. Jennifer Donovan (Chapter 16)
8
T. M. Machin et al.
sets out criteria gleaned from the literature about effective doctoral
supervision to establish the standard that she has set for herself
as a doctoral supervisor in her turn. Robert Templeton (Chapter 17)
portrays compellingly the impact on doctoral students when this
standard of supervision is not fulfilled.
6. Which specific strategies for which groups of stakeholders are worthy of
consideration in enhancing that impact, quality and relevance?
Strategies for maximising the effectiveness of doctoral programs
are often specific to particular groups of stakeholders in those pro-
grams. Mark Emmerson (Chapter 4) contends that differentiated and
nuanced approaches to communicating with doctoral students are a
key strategy for helping to enhance their success. Sarah Peters and
Janet McDonald (Chapter 12) demonstrate the possibilities of creat-
ing and sustaining a community of practice to link doctoral students
and their supervisors in practice-led doctoral study located in the cre-
ative arts. Likewise, Aastha Malhotra (Chapter 13) traces the devel-
opment of her own increasing confidence as a doctoral study through
her membership of an informal community of practice. Similarly,
Tanya M. Machin and Renée L. Parsons-Smith (Chapter 15) elabo-
rate the positive outcomes when they developed proactive strategies
to provide social support for each other and for their fellow doctoral
students.
In addition to these six organising questions helping to provide struc-

ture and to increase coherence for the book, the chapter authors par-
ticipated in two structured writing workshops in which they provided
focused feedback about the developing chapters of their fellow authors,
and in which they received similarly focused feedback about their own
developing chapters. Furthermore, completed chapters underwent a
process of rigorous peer review. Engaging with this process enabled the
authors to maximise the rigour as well as the readability of the final ver-
sions of their chapters. Important aspects of that rigour included ques-
tions of methodology and research design, including sampling, data
collection and analysis, and the asserted significance of findings.
9
Conclusion
While noting above the considerable diversity of subject matter evi-
dent in this edited volume, in essence the book is focused on two main
ideas that we contend help to consolidate the chapters’ contributions
to a wider body of knowledge: the doctorate as a process (the doctoral
journey); and the doctorate as a relationship (a shared journey). While
these twin foci assist in strengthening the book’s coherence and concen-
tration, it is appropriate to acknowledge that a corollary of such foci
is that other, equally relevant and potentially valuable topics have not
been able to be explored here. These largely absent topics include the
assessment of doctoral students’ work, as well as the coverage of doctoral
programs in certain parts of the world, such as Africa and Asia.
At the same time, we argue that the 23 chapters constituting the
book, including this one, contain sufficient breadth and depth of cov-
erage of doctoral study and supervision in several countries, disciplines
and paradigms to contribute significantly to extending existing under-
standings of traversing the doctorate. Indeed, we see these widely var-
ying understandings and voices related to such traversing as being
valuable in their own right, and also as obviating any perceived need
for or value in seeking to construct a single, homogeneous or unitary
framework for analysing doctoral study and supervision. On the con-
trary, we regard the book as an excellent opportunity to facilitate
engaged dialogue among different chapter authors, and hence among
multiple perspectives about what we agree is a complex and contested
scholarly field. The foundations of this dialogue include the important
function of the book’s organising questions, outlined above, in framing
this dialogue.
Overall, then, this edited volume constitutes at once a snapshot of
multiple approaches to doctoral programs as gleaned from the contem-
porary scholarship, and a microcosm of deeper identified issues that
require consideration if the effectiveness and quality of doctoral expe-
riences are to be enhanced. Many of these approaches and issues are
taken up in the subsequent chapters in the book that this chapter has
10
T. M. Machin et al.
introduced and situated. Certainly, traversing the doctorate emerges

from this book as a fundamentally worthwhile, yet complex and mul-
tifaceted, enterprise that justifies ongoing evaluation and continuing
professionalisation.
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Part I
Designing the Doctorate
Introduction
A key element of traversing the doctorate is the successful design of
doctoral programs, which is as complex as it is crucial, encompassing
a broad range of essential building blocks. While each of these build-
ing blocks can be seen as a prerequisite of designing the doctorate
for efectiveness and sustainability, each building block is envisioned,
enacted and evaluated in widely varying conditions and contexts, and
with diferent purposes and efects. Furthermore, doctoral program
design refects the infuence, and is intended to fulfl the requirements,
of disparate disciplines and divergent program types, including diverse
approaches to research training and assessment of learning outcomes.
Tis is the focus of the fve chapters in this Part I of the book.
In Chapter 2, Guillermo Bautista and Anna Escofet profer a
conceptual review of the competencies—related specifcally to the use of
information and communication technologies (ICTs)—needed for suc-
cessful doctoral study and supervision. Arguing strongly for the acquisi-
tion of digital competence in doctoral programs, the authors elicit fve
dimensions of such programs that can be enhanced signifcantly by ICT
14 Part I: Designing the Doctorate
integration. Te chapter includes a set of digital competence resources

and strategies that will assist doctoral students and supervisors alike.
Cristy L. Bartlett and Douglas C. Eacersall use Chapter 3 to examine
the crucial but sometimes contested doctoral program building block
related to confrmation of candidature. Deploying autoethnographic
refections gleaned from their separate and shared experiences as doc-
toral students and research administrators, the authors thereby synthe-
sise experientially powerful insights with broader lessons gleaned from
the relevant scholarly literature. Te chapter also presents useful strat-
egies for doctoral students traversing the confrmation of candidature,
clustered around writing the proposal, delivering the oral presentation
and engaging with the panel’s written feedback.
Te emphasis shifts in Chapter 4, written by Mark Emmerson, to the
vital project of encouraging a culture of successful doctoral student comple-
tions through a focus on how universities communicate with their doctoral
students. Te author draws on his previous role as a research administrator
to contend that efective institutional communication can ameliorate such
commonly experienced obstacles as crises in competence and the imposter
syndrome. Te chapter exemplifes a powerful argument for communica-
tion with doctoral students as an empowering and unifying practice.
In Chapter 5, Maria Cerrato Lara, Montserrat Castelló Badia and
Kirsti Lonka demonstrate the analytical utility of using questionnaires
and scales to study doctoral programs from the students’ perspectives.
Te authors present selected fndings from a review of 53 empirical stud-
ies investigating those perspectives that were published between 1991 and
2019. Te chapter elaborates the major themes from these studies, as well
as identifed gaps and suggestions for future research in this feld.
Finally, in this Part I of the book, Jay Somasundaram and Prue
Howard explore in Chapter 6 the implications of two sets of provoc-
ative comparisons: between undergraduate degrees and doctoral pro-
grams; and between education and engineering. Te frst-named
author’s experiences as a doctoral candidate help to ground the discus-
sion of these comparisons. Employing institutional logics to frame their
comparative case study, the authors use their fndings as a springboard
to pose unfamiliar but important questions about diferent approaches
to designing highways for doctoral students to traverse.
2
Conceptual Review
of Digital Competences
for Doctoral Supervision
Guillermo Bautista and Anna Escofet
Introduction: ICT, University and Doctoral

Studies
The digital technology revolution is a reality in all areas of our daily
life, and by extension also in university environments. Research shows
that university students and faculty use ICT for learning and teaching
purposes, although their use is not as extensive or thorough as it could
be (Boyd, 2014; Henderson, Selwyn, & Aston, 2017; Kennedy et al.,
2006). Contrary to what we may think, this situation is not only due to
the digital divide and the differences between students and teachers in
terms of their digital competences (Jones, Ramanau, Cross, & Healing,
G. Bautista (*)
Open University of Catalonia, Barcelona, Spain
e-mail: gbautista@uoc.edu
A. Escofet
University of Barcelona, Barcelona, Spain
e-mail: Annaescofet@ub.edu
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_2
16
G. Bautista and A. Escofet
2010), but can also be explained by the use of traditional learning prac-
tices (Escofet, García, & Gros, 2011).
Higher education institutions must implement policies and strategies
to ensure that ICT use is both intensive and extensive, and go beyond
the simple inclusion of technology. It would be unthinkable today to
build new knowledge without resorting to digital resources at various
stages. Thus, Beaulieu and Wouters (2009) refer to e-science to explain
the way in which ICT impacts on the scientific sphere when pooling
computational resources, the distributed access to sets of massive data,
and the use of digital platforms for collaboration and communication.
For its part, Romero-Frías and Sánchez González, (2014) explain that
e-research does not refer only to the digital dimension but it also refers to
the concept of “enhanced” in the sense that ICT mediates research, and
Jankowski (2009) states that the term “e-research” involves incorporating
a wide range of technologies and electronic networks into research.
In the specific case of doctoral studies, the roles and tasks expected
of both supervisors and doctoral students can be facilitated by digital
technologies, and must be reconsidered. While some authors focusing
on doctoral thesis supervision (Carter, 2011; Lindsay, 2015; Sharmini,
Spronken-Smith, Golding, & Harland, 2015; Trafford & Leshem,
2009; Vilkinas, 2008) do not take into account ICT contributions,
other authors (Wisker, 2012; Zhao, 2003) demonstrate that incorpo-
rating ICT is highly beneficial, and that their use and application are
transversal to scientific disciplines.
In this regard, the integration of ICT in doctoral programmes entails
specific features (Jankowski, 2009):
• Increased digitalisation of the research process, usually with the

added benefit of networking.
• Trusting virtual web-based organisational structures to carry out
research. The level of collaboration among researchers worldwide also
increases via, for example, co-laboratories, virtual learning communi-
ties, international research networks, etc.
• The development of web-based tools to facilitate many stages of the
research process, from data collection to processing and analysis, to
the publication and dissemination of results, both through formal
2 Conceptual Review of Digital Competences for Doctoral Supervision
17
mediums (for example, with the development of digital journals,

especially open-access ones) and through non-traditional ones (for
example, academic blogs).
• The development of information visualisation tools with the aim of
making sense of large volumes of data being handled, by means of
strategies related to big data, learning analytics, exploitation of data-
bases, etc.
In short, the irruption of ICT into the social sphere has also had a sig-
nificant impact on the academic community in general, and on the pro-
cess of writing and supervising doctoral theses in particular, demanding
new competences in relation to digital technologies.
Digital Competence for Supervision

of Doctoral Theses
Digital competence is fast becoming one of the key general and trans-
versal competences to almost all university programmes, at both under-
graduate and postgraduate level (Gisbert & Bullen, 2015). There is an
unquestionable need worldwide to acquire all the knowledge, skills and
attitudes required to perform in a social and professional environment
that is heavily mediated by technology. Many international institutions
have been working on the definition of indicators and dimensions to
delimit digital competence (Ananiadou & Claro, 2009; Ferrari, 2013;
Kirsti, 2011).
In order to understand the practical implications of incorporating
ICT into doctoral supervision and the development of digital compe-
tence in students and faculty, we can refer to the classifications made
by a few official establishments which have defined standards, indi-
cators and proficiency levels of digital competence. Among the best
examples are the dimensions established by the European Commission
in the document “DIGCOMP: A Framework for Developing and
Understanding Digital Competence in Europe” (2013). This document
18
establishes and defines five areas as dimensions in the development of

the digital competence (Ferrari, 2013):
1. Information: identify, locate, retrieve, store, organise and analyse dig-

ital information, judging its relevance and purpose.
2. Communication: communicate in digital environments, share
resources through online tools, link with others and collaborate
through digital tools, interact with and participate in communities
and networks, cross-cultural awareness.
3. Content-creation: Create and edit new content (from word processing
to images and video); integrate and re-elaborate previous knowledge
and content; produce creative expressions, media outputs and program-
ming; deal with and apply intellectual property rights and licences.
4. Safety: personal protection, data protection, digital identity protec-
tion, security measures, safe and sustainable use.
5. Problem-solving: identify digital needs and resources, make informed
decisions as to which are the most appropriate digital tools according
to the purpose or need, solve conceptual problems through digital
means, creatively use technologies, solve technical problems, update
one’s own and other’s competences.
The application of these five dimensions in the area of doctoral super-

vision allows to identify five areas in which digital technologies become
particularly relevant.
Firstly, in terms of acquisition, access, management and processing
of information, it’s very important for all the parties involved in the
doctoral programme to have a thirst for knowledge and the ability to
exploit all the sources that will provide them with the most current and
relevant information for the doctoral topic they are exploring (search
engines, databases, social networks for professional use, etc.) as well as
identifying the best resources for managing the acquired information
(from virtual hard drives, such as Dropbox, which enable several users
to save and share information in the cloud, to document managers such
as Mendeley, and so on).
19
Secondly, the generation and systematisation of content/knowledge is

produced by using wikis or shared documents in the cloud; practising
values of open science and e-research; open innovation; etc. This area
includes digital resources and procedures linked to technological tools
which help us create products during the research or writing phase of
the Ph.D. (conceptual maps, collaborative texts, etc.).
Thirdly, dissemination of knowledge can be produced by publishing
in electronic journals; using open repositories; applying open-access
policies; circulation of information via academic blogs, videos or pod-
casts; establishing connections via social networks, etc. During doctoral
research it is possible to exchange information and to disseminate stu-
dent’s achievements, thus providing the academic community with the
knowledge acquired through our research.
In the fourth and third place, according to Ferrari (2013), the dimen-
sions related to security have to do with the attitude and knowledge
required to protect our gadgets and our personal data from external
attacks, as well as due consideration for the protection of the environ-
ment, which should always accompany any new development or use of
technology. The dimension includes solving problems, learning to cope
with technical problems, identifying needs that can be met with the use
of technologies and even identifying gaps where technology is still una-
ble to assist us with a given problem or issue.
These five dimensions allow to state that integrating ICT into doc-
toral supervision allow not only content supervision but also allow the
follow-up and supervision of organisation and planning of the super-
visee’s work. Some authors (Agu & Odimegwu, 2014) have proposed
a classification of different supervision models which take into account
ICT integration. These range from face-to-face models to those medi-
ated by technology, which can greatly improve supervision and manage-
ment of doctoral programmes. The reason is ICT allows a more fluid
and constant interaction between supervisor and supervisee They can
sustain a frequently shared work strategy which leads to constant super-
vision and feedback.
20
Resources and Strategies for the Development

of Digital Competence in the Supervision
and Development of Doctoral Theses
In order to show that each of the five competency areas described above
is involved in processes and digital tools that could be used in the super-
vision of doctoral work, below a few practical examples will be revised.
The tools and processes shown are characterised by their p opularity,
free access and ease of use. There is a great variety of this type of
resources on the web and new tools are constantly emerging which,
despite having had a different intended use originally, are increasingly
being tailored to suit the needs of research and education and are suita-
ble for application in doctoral supervision.
In relation to acquiring, accessing, managing and processing infor-
mation, there are various processes and tools that could be linked to
the incorporation of ICT into the interaction between supervisor and
supervisee in doctoral programmes. This area of digital competence
includes simple knowledge and technical skills to use ICT. This encom-
passes knowing how to search for information in the internet, using
appropriate strategies to establish validity and reliability of information,
whether it is current, original, etc.; that is to say, handling information
with a critical eye. In addition, knowledge and skills related to manage-
ment and retrieval of information will play a key role in the digital com-
petence area. Therefore, in this dimension it is possible also to include
everything related to social and professional networks that keep us
up-to-date in a given field of knowledge, acting as continuous sources
of current information, but it is important to ensure that we are able
to discern valid sources and providers of the most reliable information.
The microblogging site Twitter (https://twitter.com) is perhaps the most
popular example of a source of information that enables people to keep
receiving continuous updates in a given field of knowledge from a col-
lective of its professionals. By using Twitter and following suitable users,
researchers can access a plethora of news and information that might
prove useful for their own research. In this dimension passive partici-
pation in social networks, taking into account only the acquisition of
21
information, and not considering yet any possibilities of participation,

interaction and production of information that any user may engage in.
With regard to acquiring relevant information in a given field of
knowledge, users must also learn, for example, how to use databases in
digital libraries. This will probably be one of the most relevant infor-
mation sources throughout their doctoral work, both in terms of qual-
ity and quantity. There is increasing access to databases through both
physical and digital libraries. For managing and processing information
it is possible to have some tools that require specific knowledge, skills
and attitudes. For example, hard drives in the cloud, such as the pop-
ular Dropbox (https://www.dropbox.com) or Google DRIVE (https://
www.drive.google.com) or a web-based citation management site, such
as RefWorks (https://refworks.com/) or Mendeley (www.mendeley.
com). The use of social bookmarking websites is also becoming wide-
spread and habitual. These are tools that allow users not only to book-
mark and save in one place favourite webpages but also to classify, tag,
comment on and share them. An interesting example of such tools is
Diigo (https://www.diigo.com/). With this type of tools users are able to
systematise the information they come across in the web that is relevant
for their research, and also to share it with other colleagues or access it
from any device connected to the internet.
The area of generation and systematisation of content/knowledge
encompasses a wider range of strategies and tools. In the process of
researching and generating knowledge there is undoubtedly a key pro-
tagonist: the written text. Digital environments offer a significant num-
ber of possibilities for the production of joint texts and supervision of
the process by the doctoral supervisor. One of the most common strat-
egies currently used in doctoral work is collaborative writing or edition
of a shared text. In this regard, perhaps the most widely used are the
“Drive” options, such as those offered by Google Drive documents
(https://www.google.com/drive/) or Microsoft OneDrive (https://
onedrive.live.com). Also within this area are the knowledge and skills
related to the ability to share information by means of digital tools, not
with the objective of spreading knowledge as such, which shall be dis-
cussed later on, but rather to grant access to work colleagues and thus
enable collaborative writing. In fact, collaborating with and through
22
digital tools (ways to collaborate and skills required) would also be an

important dimension to include in the process of generating and sys-
tematising content/knowledge.
In this dimension, Twitter is fast becoming a valid tool to obtain
research data. Like Twitter, other related social networks have been cre-
ated that are helpful for locating information nodes or groups of people
relevant to specific research areas (Mollet, Moran, & Dunleavy, 2011).
These are usually identified by using the most popular hashtags (trend-
ing topics), popular profiles of people in relevant fields, information
flow, etc. Knowing about and learning how to use these applications
in social media opens up a new and important perspective on research
and work for the doctoral student, which the supervisor must know
about and be able to manage during the doctoral research project.
One example of this type of tools is Twitter Analytics (http://analytics.
twitter.com) which allows to get a reliable snapshot of the Twitter
account activity. Other really interesting and highly recommended
analytical tools are Gephi (https://gephi.org/) and Hashtagify (http://
hashtagify.me/), which are open source apps that allow to visually rep-
resent the activity and traffic in social media of certain topics, twits or
hashtags.
For optimum use of these tools, both supervisors and candidates
must develop technical and socio-affective skills in order to best system-
atise the comments, answers and corrections and to ensure that these are
effective and truly support the creative process. The area of generation
and systematisation of knowledge could also include the area of digital
competence that has to do with communication. Face-to-face commu-
nication does not have the same features as communication mediated
by tools or virtual environments, and this factor must be taken into
account. Agreeing on codes for the way in which communication takes
place and its frequency, as well as on the tools will be a key issue to
observe in order to ensure that the use of digital environments leads to
a more efficient development of Ph.D. work. As suggested by Ferrari
(2013), this dimension is linked to learning and the use of suitable
manners of interaction via technology and with using communication
formats and strategies fit for each situation.
23
There are multiple video-conferencing tools that enable virtual com-

munication between doctoral students and their supervisors. Among
the most popular of these tools, which are used in long-distance doc-
toral programmes, are Skype (http://skype.com/) and Google Hangouts
(http://hangouts.google.com/). In tandem with these, there are also var-
ious other tools that allow for monitoring and feedback while commu-
nication is taking place in a digital environment. For example, there is
a tool for comments in Google Drive (as previously mentioned), which
allows users to add comments to any section of a document and reply to
them as if taking part in a forum discussion.
It is also worth mentioning those shared time management tools,
such as Google Calendar (https://calendar.google.com), which allow
two or more users to share planning of appointments and events, such
as meetings, presentations, seminars, etc.
In addition to text, there are also different tools that enable doctoral
supervisors and doctoral students to represent and systematise knowl-
edge in an audio-visual format. This format does not need to substitute
texts, but can coexist and/or complement them. That is why it is impor-
tant to consider using this format to represent ideas and principles
related to research. Thus, infographics, conceptual maps, word clouds,
videos and others are resources currently linked to the digital expression
of ideas and they allow people to represent relationships, sets of ideas,
levels of hierarchy between concepts and ideas, etc., in a very clear and
concise way.
In terms of dissemination and publication of research, there has
been significant change and evolution in this area, from the general-
ised use of communication mediated by technology and publication
of information in digital formats. Thanks for digital tools, now infor-
mation transcends borders; it can be generated and published easily
by any research team or individual researcher and can reach a much
larger audience. Some of the most useful tools in this regards, which
have revolutionised the dissemination and democratisation of knowl-
edge and information are social networks. Among the most popular and
widely used are Twitter (https://twitter.com/) and Instagram (https://
instagram.com/).
24
Many of the larger research projects that doctoral works form part
of have specific accounts in these networks. They are used to publish
and contrast partial research results and to obtain feedback from other
groups and researchers who are working in the same area and that are
also generating discussion that will deepen knowledge and facilitate pro-
gress on a given topic. Due to the increasingly important role that these
networks are playing in the academic world, many other “satellite” tools
are emerging which allows managing researchers’ profiles more effi-
ciently. For example, Buffer (http://buffer.com/) enables to identify the
best times to publish Twits to increase impact. This app also works for
Facebook (http://facebook.com/). There are others such as Hootsuite
(https://hootsuite.com) which also allows to monitor account informa-
tion and to better manage research information.
Professional networks or communities are more specific environments
for the dissemination of information about researchers and their scien-
tific work and achievements. One of the most widely known interna-
tionally is LinkedIn (http://www.linkedin.com). There are others, such as
Academia (https://www.academia.edu/), which are more closely linked to
universities. This type of networks makes it possible for researchers and
professionals in a given field to get in touch with each other; they sug-
gest new contacts for users according to their profiles and interests and
also allow them to share their research work in an organised and struc-
tured manner. Disseminating and publishing information digitally by
means of these resources allow budding researchers who are still work-
ing on their Ph.D. to have an online presence (a digital profile) in the
networks in parallel with their work progress, which makes it possible
for other researchers and professionals to learn about their work. Another
example of dissemination of information and digital presence is publish-
ing through personal blogs. A blog is a versatile tool that allows users
to post all sorts of content and in various formats in order to publicise
their research work. As readers, it is possible to follow publications by
renowned researchers and authors so as to keep abreast of their contribu-
tions, or it is possible to write blogs. There are several platforms to pub-
lish a blog, many of which are free. The most widely known are Blogger
(https://www.blogger.com) and Wordpress (https://wordpress.com/).
25
Conclusion
As in any other areas in higher education, doctoral programmes and
thesis supervision processes are increasingly being shaped and mediated
by digital technologies. This is often the case because of the intention
to improve the programme’s efficiency at various levels. University lead-
ers usually regard digital environments as a key element to improve the
quality of their undergraduate, postgraduate and doctoral programmes
(Crook & Light, 1999).
There are many actions and processes that can be brought about
by integrating ICT into doctoral research work, both from the point
of view of thesis development and from the supervision viewpoint.
Therefore it is vital that doctoral programmes provide a suitable con-
text in which digital competences can be developed and ICT can be
used. It is essential that university governance and doctoral programmes
implement strategies for promoting and facilitating ICT. Researchers in
charge of supervising doctoral work will also be responsible for offering
their doctoral students possibilities to develop their research in the best
possible conditions. In this regard, not using ICT and failing to develop
digital competence would be akin to wasting a plethora of opportunities
for the improvement of the doctoral process.
The expansion in the development of competences and the vari-
ous possibilities afforded by technological tools will enable a doctoral
supervisor to become a research coach, and provide a more structured
and regular level of feedback and feedforward for the student in a ped-
agogical sense. They will also allow doctoral students to keep “on topic
and on track”, thus also functioning as a motivational tool and record of
goals, priorities and progress, and resituating students at the core of the
research process, as the agent ultimately responsible for it.
It is becoming more institutionally feasible to complete a long-
distance doctoral programme, and thus it is ever more important
to acquire the competences, strategies and resources required for a
smooth and efficient supervision and an improved relationship between
candidate and supervisor. Being digitally competent will enable the

research community to face the evolution of their context and the
26
digital tools that the future will require. The tools and competences
reviewed in this chapter are merely a snapshot of a picture that is start-
ing to develop.
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3
Confirmation of Candidature:
An Autoethnographic Reflection from the
Dual Identities of Student and Research
Administrator
Cristy L. Bartlett and Douglas C. Eacersall
Introduction
Within the Australian higher education system, confirmation of can-
didature is an important milestone in the Higher Degree by Research
(HDR) programme of study. Successful confirmation signifies that the
candidate has passed from the status of fledgling provisional student to
fully confirmed candidate. Students are then ready to begin collecting
and analysing data and writing up findings that will form the basis of
their final thesis. Yet there is very little literature regarding this process
and its importance within the Australian doctoral journey.
This chapter addresses this gap by providing an analysis from the
reflective perspective of the authors, who have held the dual roles of
research student and research administrator. We provide a review of the
C. L. Bartlett (*) · D. C. Eacersall

e-mail: Cristy.Bartlett@usq.edu.au
D. C. Eacersall
e-mail: Douglas.Eacersall@usq.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_3
30
C. L. Bartlett and D. C. Eacersall
current literature, and then discuss the specific confirmation of candida-

ture process at the University of Southern Queensland (USQ), Australia,
followed by a brief comparison with other Australian institutions’ pro-
cesses. We use an autoethnographic approach, focusing on the positive
aspects of the confirmation of candidature process, and providing a ration-
ale to research students for the process and to increase research supervisors’
and administrators’ understanding of confirmation of candidature from
the student perspective. The chapter includes useful and practical strategies
to help research students to complete successfully the confirmation of can-
didature milestone. It is hoped that the information provided is useful for
students undergoing confirmation, and that it can inform the practice and
pedagogy of research administrators and research supervisors.
We are well-positioned to take the role of autoethnographer as HDR
students experiencing the confirmation of candidature process and also
previously as research administrators within the institutional setting. We
undertook an iterative review of our personal data, starting with our indi-
vidual autobiographical recollections of confirmation of candidature and
drawing on our identities as both student and administrator. Data collected
from the review of literature, Australian universities’ confirmation of can-
didature processes and the construction of this chapter itself then served as
prompts for additional autobiographical recollections. Each author under-
took a critical review of her or his personal reflections in order to under-
stand and make sense of her or his experiences of the confirmation of
candidature. This was followed by a collaborative review of our shared expe-
riences and meaning-making, which provoked additional autobiographical
accounts of our experiences. We undertook this iterative approach a num-
ber of times until we were no longer generating new data. The final review
focused on confirming our findings and co-construction of the outcomes
for inclusion in the chapter. Although the chapter has been co-constructed,
there are many single-voice reflections that are indicated accordingly.
At the time of writing, Cristy was the Senior Academic Program
Support Officer within the Faculty Research Office in the Faculty of
Business, Education, Law and Arts (BELA) at USQ. She was also under-
taking a Doctor of Philosophy degree at the same university. At the same
time, Douglas was the Acting Student Manager in the Office of Research
Graduate Studies at USQ. He was undertaking a Doctor of Philosophy
3 Confirmation of Candidature: An Autoethnographic …
31
degree in History at the University of Queensland (UQ). Both authors

have worked in research administration for at least six years, providing a
distinctive perspective from which to reflect on their own experiences as
HDR students and administrators. The authors’ reflections on the confir-
mation of candidature process were undertaken according to these expe-
riences as doctoral students and as administrators of research programs.
Cristy: I first started working in a research support role in 2009 within

the Faculty of Education (a predecessor to BELA mentioned above).
I saw first hand how the confirmation of candidature process was con-
ceptualised by students, supervisors, panel members and university
administration. I found the skills I had developed in my psychology
training (BSc Hons, Psychology) coming in handy during the confir-
mation of candidature process and, when my position description was
reviewed, the Faculty added pastoral care to the required duties.
In 2014, I commenced my own Ph.D. study at USQ within the
School of Linguistics, Adult and Specialist Education. Despite all my
insider knowledge, I experienced the confirmation of candidature
process as a stressful and almost traumatic event. But I did find the
hints and tips that I had developed over the years useful through the
process. I started interrogating aspects of the Faculty processes from a
student perspective, and made changes to almost all of our processes.
When I present at workshops, I often note that it is one thing to know
administratively, or intellectually, what is involved throughout confir-
mation of candidature, but it is an entirely different thing to experience
it yourself. My personal journey through this process has provided me
with “insider” knowledge that I am keen to share with other students,
with an aim to make each student’s journey a little easier. However, I do
also acknowledge that students have their own unique research journeys,
and I am by no means trying to imply that what I experienced, or what
worked for me, will be what all students experience or find useful.
Douglas and I first met when he joined the graduate research office
at USQ. We have different research paradigm perspectives and come
from different discipline areas, but I found in Douglas a kindred
spirit who had a holistic view of our research programmes. Douglas
also understands the sometimes conflicting nature of being a research
32
administrator and a student, and the scrutiny and pressure that come
from working in an area where you are a student. That’s not to say we
agree on all things. We have had robust debates about exactly how a
policy, process or administrative action fits within the balance of uni-
versity needs, and the realities of undertaking research within a uni-
versity degree.
Douglas: I began working in the research office at USQ in 2010 as a
Higher Degree by Research Student Administration Officer. This
position involved providing advice and support for research students,
and enabled me to be a part of hundreds of students’ higher degree
by research journeys. A major element of this process was confirma-
tion of candidature. As part of my role, I also attended several con-
firmation seminars and observed the process of panel feedback both
verbal and written. I witnessed first-hand the anxiety that confirma-
tion brought to research candidates, and I provided advice to students
who were having difficulty passing through this process.
In 2015, my staff supervisor took long-service leave and I assumed
the role of Acting Manager for my section. This role brought with
it the responsibility of developing university policy for the con-
firmation of candidature process. This was something I had been
involved with several years earlier when the confirmation of can-
didature had undergone a major revision in an effort to align the
different faculty processes. As inevitably occurs within universi-
ties, the bureaucratic wheel turns full circle, and so it was time
to revisit this policy. On each of these occasions, it was clear that
the confirmation of candidature means different things to differ-
ent people. For some, it was a barrier for students to pass through,
a test of their projects and of themselves as fledgling academics; for
others, it was a process that enabled students to begin slowly and
comfortably to assume the role of academic in a supportive and col-
legial atmosphere; and for some, it was something in between these
two. My roles in research administration enabled me to come to
understand these competing paradigms, and how these can affect
students in both positive and negative ways.
During my time as a research administrator, I also began my
own doctoral studies. In 2012, I started a Doctor of Philosophy
33
degree at a different institution, and so began to understand first

hand from the student perspective what I had witnessed so many
times from an administrative outlook. This enabled me to compare
the different processes and different experiences each institution pro-
vided for its students. In terms of confirmation, I began to reflect on
my own confirmation when compared with the confirmation process
I had observed in my professional role at USQ. My own confirma-
tion was by no means easy sailing, but on the whole the processes and
approach of the other institution appeared to be less ‘problematic’
when compared with my experiences and observations of confirma-
tion of candidature at USQ.
Background to the Study

Research training in Australia, especially the Doctor of Philosophy
(Ph.D.) degree, has been influenced historically by the United Kingdom
(UK), and therefore follows the mentoring model (Dale, 1997, p. 111;
Evans, Macauley, Pearson, & Tregenza, 2003). This involves students con-
ducting their research under the guidance of a principal academic supervi-
sor (or advisor) and at least one associate supervisor. A significant catalyst
for the development of the confirmation of candidature in Australian
research training was the Australian Government’s introduction of spe-
cific funding and accountabilities in this area in the form of the Research
Training Scheme (RTS) (subsequently the Research Training Program
[RTP]). The RTS initiative was an Australian government grant provided
to Australian Higher Education Providers in order to offset domestic
HDR students’ tuition fees. It has been suggested that the RTS led to the
formalisation of the confirmation process across the sector as a compul-
sory measure to improve and monitor the management of research can-
didature, ensuring more timely completions and better completion rates
(Evans, Evans, & Marsh, 2011). Formal, compulsory Australian confirma-
tion processes are somewhat standard across the sector and usually require:
The acquisition of necessary technical and methodological skills, com-

pletion of any required coursework subjects, completion of an adequate
34
amount of research, submission of a significant piece of writing, a public

presentation on their project, and an interview by a “confirmation
committee”. (Evans et al., 2011, p. 6)
Additional requirements for the student to pass from provisional to

fully confirmed candidate may also include the completion of required
revisions to a written proposal and a formal written response to the con-
firmation panel or committee.
Review of the Literature

Although there are many studies of doctoral level education in Australia
that mention confirmation (see Brien, 2005; Denholm & Evans, 2007;
Evans et al., 2011; Hamilton, Carson, & Ellison, 2013; Mewburn,
2011; Owens, 2007; van Rensburg & Danaher, 2009), there are few
studies that focus on confirmation in any depth or that provide prac-
tical information for students. Studies seldom discuss confirmation
from a reflective perspective, the student perspective or the perspec-
tive of a Higher Degree Research administrator. Studies that mention
confirmation are generally from the perspective of the research super-
visor and effective supervisory practices (see Brien, 2005; Danaher &
van Rensburg, 2009; Denholm & Evans, 2007; Hamilton et al., 2013;
James & Baldwin, 1999; Owens, 2007). Studies that provide discus-
sion of confirmation and that also consider the doctoral journey from a
student perspective include two academics reflecting on their own doc-
toral journeys (Bansel, 2011; Tyler, 2008) and a study conducted at the
University of Western Sydney (now Western Sydney University), which
examined the impacts of the Ph.D. process from the perspective of full-
time Ph.D. students (Mowbray, 2010). While these studies were impor-
tant in informing this chapter, their focus was on the whole doctoral
journey and not on confirmation itself.
The administrative perspective is usually discussed only in terms of
the confirmation providing some structure leading to the pathway for
completion. The only research that begins to address meaningfully the
issue of doctoral study from the perspective of HDR administrators
35
or administration focuses on administrative paperwork (see Mewburn,

Tokareva, Cuthbert, Sinclair, & Barnacle, 2013). As these research-
ers correctly pointed out, “administrative paperwork could be called a
‘blind spot’ in the literature on research education” (Mewburn et al.,
2013, p. 510). This chapter begins to illuminate this gap by provid-
ing autoethnographic reflections from the perspectives of students and
administrators on the confirmation of candidature.
Methodology
This project takes a collaborative autoethnographical approach in
order to examine the process of the confirmation of candidature.
Autoethnography is well-placed to examine the meaning and effects of
confirmation in the lives of HDR research students. Ethnography is a
qualitative research method that “usually involves the researcher partici-
pating, overtly or covertly, in people’s daily lives for an extended period
of time, watching what happens, listening to what is said, and/or asking
questions through informal and formal interviews…” (Hammersley &
Atkinson, 2007, p. 3).
Autoethnography differs from ethnography as it involves a reflec-
tion on one’s self, rather than on other people. With such an approach,
researchers can “research themselves in relation to others”, and not just
realise subjectivity but embrace it as a tool to understand further the
social or cultural phenomenon under investigation (Boylorn & Orbe,
2014, p. 17). Autoethnography is a “cultural analysis through personal
narrative” where “a critical lens” can be established “alongside an intro-
spective and outward one, to make sense of who we are in the context
of our cultural communities” (Boylorn & Orbe, 2014, p. 17). This type
of approach is not just useful for making sense of the self; the outward
cultural gaze also helps “to achieve cultural understanding through anal-
ysis and interpretation” so that “autoethnography is not about focusing
on self alone, but about searching for understanding of others (culture/
society) through self ” (Chang, 2016a, p. 48).
Although there are benefits in embracing the subjectivity of the
autoethnographic approach, the limitations of this method are that
36
it can become too insular. Once immersed in the self, the researcher
as author, researcher and participant is more prone to losing a sense
of objectivity. The risk is that autoethnography privileges the sin-
gle researcher–participant perspective over all others (Chang, 2016b,
p. 111). The objective–subjective dichotomy is not unique to autoeth-
nography, but is shared by ethnography more widely (see DeWalt &
DeWalt, 2011). The issue with autoethnographic approaches is that this
is more acute given that the methodology is weighted heavily in favour
of the subjective. In order to limit this weakness, the research took a
collaborative autoethnographic approach.
Collaborative autoethnography involves two or more researchers
combining their individual autoethnographies. The benefits of using
this method are that “author-researcher-participants are encouraged to
listen to each other’s voices, examine their own assumptions and chal-
lenge other perspectives (Chang, Ngunjiri, & Hernandez, 2013, p.
17). The process sharpens their collective interpretation of multiple
perspectives and keeps everyone accountable for the process and prod-
uct” (Chang, 2016b, pp. 111–112). Accountability adds an element of
objectivity to the subjective benefits of autoethnography.
Given our personal experiences both as research administrators and as
research students, the collaborative autoethnographic method provided
a useful lens to understand the confirmation of candidature process.
This examination of the self is used to explore the confirmation of can-
didature in ways that seek to inform and assist others. By using a col-
laborative approach, we sought to balance our individual understanding
of self against each other in order to provide a more objective interpre-
tation of the issues and powers at play during the confirmation process.
The Confirmation of Candidature Process

in Australia and at USQ
We conducted a review of the confirmation processes at nine universi-
ties across Australia, with at least one university from each Australian
State or Territory. The data were obtained from information freely
37
available from the universities’ webpages. The documents reviewed

included policies and formal regulations, information for students,
templates and forms. From the review, we identified five core processes
involved with confirmation of candidature, including:
• a written proposal that summarises the proposed research;

• a formal oral presentation of the proposed research;
• formal feedback;
• some form of grading or outcome where candidature is confirmed,
extended or terminated; and
• a time limit on obtaining confirmation of candidature, with candi-
dates generally required to move from provisional to full candidature
within the first third of their program time.
Although there is a recognisable core set of processes for confirmation

of candidature, each university’s process has variations. For example:
• the proposal length is set to different levels across universities, and

across disciplines within universities;
• the information required in the proposal document varies; for exam-
ple, a project budget, publication outline and/or ethics statement
may, or may not, be required;
• the time allocated for the formal presentation varies from 15 to 45
minutes;
• the confirmation panel may also meet with, or interview, the student
and supervisors separately; and
• the feedback may, or may not, be provided in writing on a standard
template.
The confirmation of candidature process at USQ is described

below in order to provide a context for the practical advice outlined
later in the chapter, and to give a specific example of the process at an
Australian university. The USQ confirmation process is described under
the headings of the five core components common to the universities
reviewed.
38
A Written Proposal that Summarises

the Proposed Research
A formal set of guidelines is provided to candidates that outlines the

formatting requirements of the proposal. Students are required to sub-
mit a proposal that includes:
• the goals of the research study;

• the relationship of the work with the current body of knowledge in
the discipline area;
• the methodologies by which the goals will be addressed; and
• the likely outcomes of the work, together with their significance.
An appropriate confirmation of candidature panel is convened for each

student. The panel consists of at least two doctorally qualified members
who collectively have expertise in the proposed theoretical/conceptual
framework, methodologies, context, content or other areas relevant to
the proposed research.
A Formal Presentation of the Proposed Research
The student presents an oral summary (30–45 minutes) of her or his

proposed research at a forum advertised, and open, to all university stu-
dents and staff members. The presentation is followed by a discussion
ranging from 30 minutes to 1 hour. The confirmation panel chairperson
facilitates the forum. Normally, the panel will ask any questions at the
beginning of the discussion before inviting the audience to contribute.
Cristy: The full confirmation proposal is due to be submitted at least two

weeks prior to the oral presentation. One of the jobs in our office is to
follow up with students who have not met this timeline. I don’t think
that students always realise the importance of providing their written
proposal in a timely manner to allow the panel suitable time to read
and digest the information presented. Submitting late documents
39
is an easy way to annoy a busy panel. Each person involved in the

process has competing demands on her or his time, and we are required
as administrators to herd the team together for the presentation.
Douglas: The difficulty of this can be compounded by students submit-
ting late proposals, the unavailability of panel members at certain
times of year and the number of presentations that might need to be
scheduled at any given time. For this reason, it is suggested that stu-
dents (and supervisors) prepare well in advance, and have contingen-
cies in place to negate unexpected delays.
Formal Feedback
The formal written feedback from the panel is submitted to the student
approximately one week after the oral presentation. The feedback is
provided on a standard template, and includes expert and constructive
advice about the proposed project, the scope and feasibility of the pro-
ject, and the appropriateness of the theoretical approach, methodology
and/or experimental design.
In most cases, the panel requires the candidate to provide a writ-
ten response to the report and a revised proposal. The panel provides
an outcome of confirmation grade in line with the university’s exam-
ination outcome grades; that is, Pass, Pass with minor revisions, Pass
with major revisions, Resubmit, or Fail and recommend candidature be
terminated.
In the majority of cases, candidature is confirmed after the student
responds to the written feedback from the panel. In a number of cases,
the panel will require the candidate to engage more fully with the feed-
back, and resubmit a further revised response and proposal. In these
cases, the candidate may be granted a three-month extension in order to
complete the confirmation of candidature process. In a small number of
cases, the panel may recommend that the student’s candidature be ter-
minated as the student has not demonstrated that her or his proposed
research is of an appropriate scope, is feasible, has appropriate method-
ologies and/or will contribute new knowledge.
40
Cristy: In nearly all cases, the candidates who engage with the confirma-
tion process progress to have their candidature confirmed. However,
there are rare cases when a student does not progress successfully
through the confirmation process. Recommending a termination
of candidature is something we avoid as much as possible; however,
there have been a handful of cases where it seems that the candidate is
unaware of the lack of progress.
Douglas: It is always unfortunate when candidature is discontinued.
As an administrative process, though, termination of candidature
does serve a purpose. It ensures that students are not spending large
amounts of time working towards something that, in the opinion of a
number of experienced researchers, will not result in a passable thesis.
Quite often this has nothing to do with a student’s ability, but is usu-
ally related to particular circumstances the student is experiencing at
the time. In fact, some students return to the program at a later date
and successfully pass through confirmation the second time around.
Confirmation of candidature provides a means for the institution to
resolve these issues at an early stage of the candidature rather than
have a student struggle all the way to the end and fail at examination
owing to a fundamental issue. It is the responsibility of administra-
tors to have processes, with checks and balances, in place to ensure
that the institution gets it right when recommending termination of
candidature.
Confirmation of Candidature: A Rationale

Our aim in this section is to provide a rationale for the confirmation
of candidature process, and to answer the “Why do I have to do this?”
question. The prospect of undergoing confirmation of candidature can
be intimidating for many HDR students. Their anxiety can be related
to a number of factors, including a dichotomy of identity produced by
confirmation, and the process being described in antagonistic terms
such as “thesis defence”.
Mewburn (2011) discussed the different identities assumed by Ph.D.
candidates during what she termed the ritual of confirmation. Mewburn
41
emphasised the dichotomy of identity necessary during the confirma-

tion of candidature presentation where the student must make “the
identity of ‘student’ learner and ‘unknower’ available at the same time
as ‘professional academic’ a knower and teller, rather than a learner” (p.
329). It is not surprising that students feel apprehension at the pros-
pect of confirmation where these dual identities can come into play in
unpredictable and unexpected ways.
At confirmation, the student is expected to present her or his pro-
ject in a knowledgeable manner, and to demonstrate expertise in her or
his discipline. In doing so, the student assumes the role of “professional
academic”. At the same time, however, confirmation questions this role
as it requires more senior “professional academics” as panel members
and other confirmation presentation attendees to provide instruction
and feedback on the viability of the research project. It is the interroga-
tion of the project and the academic/student role that we believe creates
the most angst for students. The level of anxiety is concomitant with the
way in which confirmation feedback is provided, which itself is depend-
ent on the way in which confirmation is conceptualised.
The level of anxiety created by confirmation also depends on how it
is conceptualised by the institution, the student, the supervisors, the
confirmation panel members and the members of the audience. One
traditional form of conceptualising the confirmation has been that of
thesis defence. In this case, the student is required to defend the right
to the role of “professional academic” by proving that the project is
valid, achievable and academically rigorous. One of the members of
Douglas’s supervisory team joked that a sword would be necessary in
the confirmation of candidature presentation to defend his project and
the approach that he proposed to take. The joke literalising defence was
apt. As his project investigated the revival of Western Martial Arts, a
sword would not have been out of place in the confirmation presenta-
tion. Yet we suggest that academics should be cautious with humour
around what can be genuinely daunting to students, and should be
aware that their task throughout confirmation is to uphold the pro-
cess as one of student development, rather than to endorse or main-
tain antagonistic models of attack and defence. We have witnessed
examples where the candidate would have been well-advised to carry
42
some form of protection from the feedback provided by academics at

the confirmation. These approaches to feedback required students to
defend themselves and their projects from what one would hope were
well-meaning, but nonetheless vigorous, attacks that can seem tanta-
mount to bullying. As one doctoral student commented when reflecting
on confirmation:
The actual experience brought out individuals who appeared to see my

presentation as an opportunity to widen any conceptual and methodo-
logical holes, which I may not have filled, into chasms. It reminded me of
those individuals who tended to use opportunities such as this to privilege
their own voices. (Tyler, 2008, p. 9)
The objectivity of the confirmation of candidature process provides

an opportunity for expertise outside the student’s supervisory team to
be provided, not only ensuring greater rigour in the project, but also
having the potential to inject other possibilities and productive direc-
tions. This is most important for students who are not studying on the
university campus, as these students may not have convenient access to
additional expert advice relevant to their proposed research. We have
also observed that not all supervisors are comfortable with their students
seeking advice outside the supervisory team. The advantage of the con-
firmation process is that it requires outside input, ensures that this hap-
pens and normalises a wider community of practice.
In our own experience of the doctoral degree in its broadest sense,
students underestimate the amount of time that the writing of the thesis
can take and spend too much time on the literature review, data collec-
tion and data analysis before starting the writing. These are all impor-
tant aspects of the research process, but must be undertaken with the
realisation that the production of a thesis will need to become the focus
of the endeavour. The confirmation, requiring a written document, can
assist in establishing this focus early in the candidature, and in many
cases the final confirmation proposal can form the basis of the introduc-
tion, literature review and methodology chapters of the thesis.
The benefits of a formally administered confirmation process, dis-
cussed above, assist in the production of a thesis and the development
43
of the skills required of a researcher. From an administrative perspective,

though, a benefit of a confirmation process scheduled to occur within
the first third of the degree is that timely completion of confirmation
is likely to lead to timely completion of the degree (Denholm &
Evans, 2007). The confirmation process requires students to demon-
strate their ability to write a cohesive proposal and to plan a suitable
project. Without this step, the first real assessment of students’ ability
to complete their degree would be at thesis submission. Having a con-
firmation milestone in the first third of the program allows the student,
the supervisory team and the university to assess the student’s capacity
to complete the degree.
Douglas: Although as a student I recognised the benefits of confirma-

tion in strengthening the research, as an administrator there were also
benefits in that confirmation was an official milestone that allowed
me to gauge student progress and initiate performance management
processes if necessary. These would usually provide remedial support
for students useful in getting them back on track, but in certain cases
would facilitate the student’s exit from the program. In this way, con-
firmation was beneficial as an objective administrative measuring
stick to monitor performance and instigate actions as appropriate.
Obviously, confirmation has benefits for the institution, in that it is
an administrative mechanism to maximise the number of comple-
tions, but it also benefits the student. The earlier that students can
successfully undertake confirmation, the more time that they have
to complete other elements of the research. I know that, for myself,
I underestimated the amount of time that the final thesis writing pro-
cess would take, and was grateful for confirmation as an administra-
tive process that assisted in getting the research moving.
Cristy: Confirmation provides a critical point where students need to
determine if they are willing and able to commit the time required.
There have been cases where administrative suggestions to withdraw
have been met with relief. Sometimes it seems that students just need
someone to say, “I don’t think you can do this right now” to gener-
ate action. Other students found that this suggestion to withdraw has
spurred them into action and commitment to their research study.
44
At USQ, the confirmation process is intended to assist the student

in producing an examinable thesis. It requires the student to develop
a clear project outline with anticipated contributions to knowledge, an
understanding of the potential significance of the work and appropriate
methodologies by which the work will be undertaken. From a practical
perspective, we have both found that it forced us to write and to plan
our studies in a meaningful way.
When reflecting on our conversations with other research students,
a number of positive aspects of the confirmation process are often
acknowledged:
a. Confirmation provides a specific milestone to achieve, and provides

some structure to what is a generally unstructured program of study.
Students indicated that having a goal (even a relatively broad goal of
confirmation) to work towards in the first third of their program helps
them to transition to the unstructured nature of research degrees.
b. The confirmation process has forced decision-making and focus
within their study, when they could have continued the initial
exploratory phases of the project unchecked.
c. The confirmation proposal document forces students to write about
their study, and often provides material that can be included in the
final thesis document. Students often comment on this aspect of con-
firmation when they are towards the end of their degree and focusing
on thesis writing.
Students will often acknowledge that they did not necessarily appreci-
ate the role of the confirmation process until the process was completed
and they were progressing with their research.
Cristy: The process has forced me to write not just notes, but formal
polished work for my supervisors’ review. Without the time require-
ment on this process, I could easily have continued reading and
thinking about my project without having written a single word or
taken any steps towards actually commencing the study.
Douglas: I can still recall how the somewhat daunting process was
of great benefit to my project and my academic experience.
45
The confirmation allowed me to discuss my proposed topic in a for-

mal setting with others outside my supervisory team. This enabled me
to get a variety of opinions on my proposed approach, and assisted to
confirm that both I and more importantly my supervisors were all on
the right track. It was also a good opportunity to practise the skills of
presenting my research, and gave me an added boost of confidence to
present my findings at several conferences. Through my own personal
experiences of confirmation, I understand the apprehension and the
anxiety that students feel, but I am also aware of the role that confir-
mation plays in empowering students and validating the research that
they undertake.
As Douglas mentions above, the oral presentation is also an oppor-

tunity for students to develop skills in presenting their research at con-
ferences and other forums where an oral presentation, with or without
visual aids such as PowerPoint slides, is required. Being able to present
and answer questions about their research concisely and clearly is an
important skill for researchers wishing to share their research with oth-
ers. It is also the aspect of the confirmation of candidature process that
invokes the most uncertainty or anxiety.
Cristy: I didn’t sleep well the night before my presentation. I kept

rehearsing how I would deflect difficult questions and provide
answers to alternative questions as if I were a politician preparing
for a press conference. I wasn’t concerned about the presentation of
my proposed research; what created anxiety were the unknown ques-
tions that would be posed. What if I couldn’t answer a question, or
worse…what if I didn’t even understand the question? I reminded
myself that my confirmation forum was one hour out of my life and
that whatever happened I would survive the hour and would recover
from it.
Douglas: Initially, I was not concerned about the presentation of my con-
firmation document. I had rehearsed my presentation and responses
to potential questions many times. I had experience as a teacher
and lecturer in my previous career, and had given many presenta-
tions before. I knew my topic, and I was an experienced presenter.
46
What did I have to worry about? Little did I know that I would lit-
erally choke on those words. Whether it was subconscious anxiety or
trying to fit too many words into my allocated 20 minute presenta-
tion slot, things did not go as smoothly as I had planned. It turns out
that what I should have been concerned about was a progressively dry
mouth and throat that continued to constrict until it incapacitated
me. It got so acute that I had to call a stop to the presentation in order
to revive myself. Luckily, a very helpful School Research Co-ordinator
offered to get me some water, which helped immensely. What didn’t
help was my supervisor insisting that we not lose the momentum of
the presentation, and that people ask some questions while the water
was still on its way. I managed to squeeze out somewhat coherent
answers to these questions before the water arrived. Refreshed and able
to speak freely again, I continued with my presentation, which went
on without a hitch. It just goes to show that you can never be too pre-
pared and that the unexpected can happen. But in the overall scheme
of things, even with this setback, everything was all right and I passed
through my confirmation.
Strategies for HDR Students

Preparing Your Proposal
Start writing as soon as possible. Write notes from the literatures as you
read (this can form the basis of your literature review). Writing early
also gives your supervisors more time to provide feedback on your con-
tent, as well as on your writing style and format. If your discipline has
a style manual, use it from the beginning. Be familiar with the confir-
mation of candidature and proposal guidelines from your university/
discipline area.
Cristy: I copied the proposal guidelines into my document before

I started writing. This gave me a framework for writing, and provided
a focus to my reading. It wasn’t until I created my proposal document
47
that I started to be more strategic in my reading and actually started

writing anything. If I could go back in time and give myself one
study tip, it would be to start the proposal document as soon as I had
a general idea of what my study was going to be.
Douglas: Similarly to Cristy, I wish that I had started the writing of my
confirmation document earlier. Throughout my doctoral studies, I
found that the writing process is important for formulating ideas and
informing the planning and structuring of the thesis. Starting writing
as I was reading the literature and planning my proposal document
assisted greatly with this process. Writing such a short proposal was a
good lesson in writing concisely, and proved to be good practice for
writing the thesis chapters.
Advice for students writing the proposal includes:
• Know what is required by your university and by your discipline.

• You should be referencing key theorists, seminal literatures and
current publications.
• Focus on identifying the research gap, how you will fill this gap
(methodology) and the significance of addressing this gap. This is
how you demonstrate that your research will provide a significant
and original contribution to knowledge.
• If there is a word/page limit, make sure that you do not exceed it.
• Correctly format the document. When academics are reviewing a
large number of documents, a consistent format makes the process
easier.
• Proofread your document carefully. Have a critical friend also proof-
read the document.
The Oral Presentation
In reflecting on our own experiences of confirmation, it is evident that

there are a number of strategies that can reduce the anxiety of the pres-
entation and question time. Practise the presentation in front of other
people. Practising alone will help with becoming comfortable with
48
the presentation, but practising in front of other people more closely

replicates the actual confirmation presentation, and can lead to a more
polished presentation. Feedback from supervisors, colleagues and
friends will all help to shape the presentation. Where possible, have
a look at the room layout and have a run through of the room tech-
nologies. It is also advisable to attend at least one other confirmation
presentation in the relevant discipline area several months before con-
firmation. This will help to familiarise you with the realities of an actual
presentation.
Cristy: I practised what I was going to say in front of the mirror and to
my cat, Tabitha, initially. And, while Tabitha appeared to appreciate
my research, it wasn’t until I practised in front of my supervisors that
I got some invaluable feedback. I then took the plunge and invited/
coerced some colleagues to a practice run, and this is when I really
added some polish to the presentation. This really pushed me out of
my comfort zone and felt even more unnatural than an actual pres-
entation, but I am very glad that I pushed myself to do it. My prepa-
ration helped to reduce my anxiety relating to the tension of needing
to know what I was talking about, and also being a novice researcher/
learner. I went into my confirmation presentation knowing that the
presentation part was going to be okay.
As was described in the personal reflection of Cristy above, one of the

most common areas of anxiety for students undertaking the confirma-
tion of candidature presentation is how to deal with feedback during
question time. This anxiety is usually related to the fear of not being
able to answer a question or having an academic take an overly critical
approach.
Douglas: Although the presentation of my research during the confirma-

tion of candidature went very well, and academics took a very con-
structive and collegial approach to giving feedback, I am fully aware
of less constructive approaches. One of the students presenting before
me was given a particularly gruesome ‘grilling’ by an academic who
took issue with the overall relevance of the research and repeatedly
49
asked the same question. Stumbling to respond to such an attack

on the fundamental credibility of the work, the student continued
to attempt to answer the question with decreasing levels of success.
From my own experience of confirmation at UQ, and having been
present at USQ student confirmations, my advice in such situations
is that students not get too involved in a question that they find diffi-
cult answering. Provide an answer, clarify if necessary and then move
on. I would suggest that students have a pen with them so that they
can make a note of the point raised, and then consider it later with
their supervisory team.
There are many good publications available that discuss presentation

skills. We suggest that students make use of these types of resources.
Some hints and tips directly related to our own experiences of confirma-
tion of candidature as students and as research administrators are listed
below.
• Practise your presentation alone and with an audience. Make sure

that you are within the time limit prescribed, and that you are com-
fortable with technical terms and researchers’ names.
• Do not rush the presentation; take your time to explain each point
carefully.
• You can read your presentation from a script, but it can be better to
avoid reading and speak directly to your audience while maintaining
good eye contact.
• Frame the presentation as a conversation with friends and colleagues,
rather than as a speech or monologue.
• Try to speak naturally.
• Keep the presentation slides simple and uncluttered. Avoid too much
text, busy fonts with multiple colours, effects, animated transitions,
sounds, etc.
• Avoid having more than three points on a slide.
• Number your slides so that people can refer to slide numbers in their
questions or in the written feedback.
• Go to other confirmation of candidature presentations to see the pro-
cess in action.
50
• Have water with you when you are presenting.

• Have a friend at your presentation as a timekeeper, letting you know
when you have five, 10, 20 minutes remaining.
• Prepare answers to possible questions.
• Be genuine in your responses to questions.
• Take a pen so that you can note any questions or suggestions made at
your presentation.
• If you cannot answer a question, be sure to note it down and indi-
cate that you will investigate that option/idea/theory further at a later
date.
• Remember, the presentation is only a short period of your life. No
matter how well or poorly it goes, the sun will still shine tomorrow.
Responding to the Written Feedback
We suggest strongly that you make sure that you understand the revi-
sion process and what is required before you commence. In most cases,
you will be required to respond in writing to the feedback, and indi-
cate if you have made the suggested change or provide a rationale for
not making the change or only partly incorporating the feedback. This
process of review and feedback is almost a mirror (although a smaller
version) of the examination process at most universities. Therefore the
confirmation revision process is a good practice for the phases that will
occur after the examination of the thesis and later when responding to
reviewers’ comments on submission of journal articles.
Do not give your confirmation panel a reason to send the proposal
back for further revision. They have invested considerable time in
making suggestions, and so it is correct academic etiquette to address
all of them. The suggestions included below are based on our admin-
istrative observations of reasons why panels do not accept revised pro-
posals. Often students report feeling pressured to respond quickly, yet
our advice is to take the appropriate time to review the response before
submission.
Correct any typographical, formatting and grammatical errors high-
lighted in the panel feedback. While it is much better to avoid any of
51
those errors in your document in the first place, if some have slipped
through and the panel have taken the time to highlight them for you,
make sure that you correct them. Often the panel will check whether
typographical errors have been addressed before looking any further. If
those changes have not been made, the panel may send your proposal
back without reading how you have addressed more substantial feedback.
Respond to all items of feedback that require a response. The length
of your response will vary depending on the item of feedback. Some
responses may be a short acknowledgement that the suggestion has
been adopted with reference to page numbers in the proposal. Other
responses may be a more detailed theoretical rationale as to why the
suggestion does not fit within the chosen theoretical framework.
You are writing for busy people, and should make it as easy as pos-
sible for them to see that you have responded to everything that they
raised. Provide a clear indication that you have engaged with their feed-
back. The confirmation panel do not necessarily expect you to adopt all
of their suggestions, but they will expect you to consider their feedback
and make a professional response. Figure 3.1 provides a possible format
for your responses. Following the advice outlined above demonstrates
your appreciation for the time and effort that the panel have given
to you by providing feedback on your proposal. It is also important
Fig. 3.1 A student’s response to feedback from a confirmation panel

52
to write your revisions in a polite and courteous style, and acknowl-

edge the assistance that the panel have provided by thanking them
appropriately.
Where appropriate, we recommend that you work closely with your
supervisors when drafting your response and revised proposal. Their
expertise can be invaluable as you engage with your panel feedback,
and throughout the entire confirmation of candidature process. Perhaps
our most important suggestion is to keep the feedback in perspective.
Unless you have received an outright fail, the panel are acknowledging
that your proposed research has merit. You have more work to do on
your proposal but, if you engage with the feedback in a meaningful way,
you are likely to have your candidature confirmed.
Cristy: I gained invaluable feedback from my panel. As a result of the

feedback, I changed one of the instruments used in my study and
reduced the number of hypotheses that I was testing. I am genuinely
thankful to my confirmation panel for taking the time to consider my
proposed research and provide me with feedback.
Final Thoughts
As we reflect on each stage of the confirmation of candidature, as stu-
dents and as administrators, there are many ways that the student has
influence and agency in this process. How the process is framed will
influence how the student interprets his or her experiences. Although
we cannot necessarily control how those around us interpret the pro-
cess, we do have control over how we interpret the process. As students,
supervisors, panel members and research administrators, we have the
power to conceptualise confirmation of candidature in positive and con-
structive ways that enhance and enrich the experience of all involved.
Cristy: On reflection, I acknowledge that I constructed a stressful confir-

mation process for myself. I had placed an expectation on myself that
I had to know everything related (even peripherally) to my study, and
that I had to be an expert. This level of expectation led me to develop
53
and practise a tightly constructed presentation, and my presenta-

tion went according to my expectations. However, this self-inflicted
requirement to be an expert led to anxiety about the question time
after my presentation. I perceived the written feedback in an entirely
different way, thanks to my principal supervisor. He embraced the
feedback and saw it as a gift. I reconstructed my view of the feedback,
and approached it in a much more positive way.
From the critical reflections of our experiences, we suggest that super-

visors, administrators and students consider the following points.
• Confirmation of candidature may go smoothly, or the student may

experience difficulties. Some of the difficulties may be out of the stu-
dent’s control and more related to dichotomies of identity, or the
ways in which the process is framed as thesis defence.
• Confirmation of candidature can be conceptualised as a defence
against a barrier of experts, or as a constructive and collegial expe-
rience. We all have the power to frame confirmation positively and
influence those around us and the process itself to be perceived as
more collegial than antagonistic.
• How students frame confirmation for themselves, their role and their
agency influences how they perceive the process.
• The confirmation of candidature formalises research progression,
and assists in progressing the research project to the next stage. This
makes confirmation of candidature a positive process for administra-
tors, supervisors and students.
• The confirmation of candidature process is paralleled in many aca-
demic review practices. For example, it follows the format of the aca-
demic conference presentation and submitting publications for peer
review.
• Students undergoing confirmation of candidature should not
be too hard on themselves. The purpose of conducting the
research after confirmation is to find the answers and fill the
research gap. Students at confirmation should not be expected to
know all of the answers. If they did, there would be no point in
undertaking the research.
54
Conclusion
This chapter used an autoethnographic approach to examine the pro-
cess of confirmation of candidature through our reflections as research
administrators and HDR students. These reflections were based on our
personal experiences, and the accumulated observation of many individ-
ual circumstances over more than eight years. We found that, although
students realised the benefits of confirmation as a formal milestone, it
was usually only after they had completed the process that the benefits
were fully understood. Strategies to assist students to undertake confir-
mation and to help to reduce anxiety were provided, and their relevance
elucidated through personal reflection. These strategies included advice
covering each of the main aspects of confirmation—preparing the pro-
posal, the oral presentation and responding to written feedback. It is
hoped that the reflections and information provided will be of benefit
to research administrators, supervisors and, most importantly, students.
For administrators, there are important institutional aspects to con-
sider in terms of confirmation of candidature as a process of compli-
ance and timely completion, but research administrators should also
consider the very real tensions and anxieties that students will expe-
rience. Administrative systems, and most importantly the ways in
which research administrators apply these systems, should take this
into account. The chapter provides an opportunity for research super-
visors to reflect on their own teaching practice and inform the peda-
gogies of research supervision. It is hoped that the information in the
chapter might encourage or support supervisors in their efforts to assist
themselves, their colleagues and their own students to approach confir-
mation of candidature as a collegial and empowering experience. And
finally, the individual student does have power and agency in this pro-
cess. Although the best scenario is one in which the institution, admin-
istrators and university academics construct empowering and respectful
confirmation of candidature events, the realities can often fall short of
this. You, as the student, are in control of how you perceive the process.
The way that you approach the confirmation process will influence how
55
you experience it and what you get out of it. You have the power to per-
ceive the confirmation of candidature as an ordeal or as an empowering
learning event. It is hoped that the reflections and advice in this chapter
result in more chance of experiencing the latter.
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4
Communicating “Success” with Research
Students: Institutional Responsibilities
in Encouraging a Culture of Research
Higher Degree Completions
Mark Emmerson
Introduction
Despite being regarded as the pinnacle of academic achievement, suc-
cessfully attaining a research higher degree (RHD) does not firmly rely
on a candidate’s intelligence, or on previous level of high academic
merit. Those working in higher education can attest that it is not always
the brightest students who reach the end goal, nor is it unlikely for can-
didates with less impressive backgrounds to do very well in their chosen
field. Rather, the successful completion of a doctoral or a research mas-
ter degree involves the complex interplay of various factors—insightful
project design, robust organisational skills, positive supervisory relation-
ships, competent university support structures and, for the most part,
sheer determination. But the one element that links all these factors
together is the ability for the university to impart vital knowledge of the
research degree as a process and, through access to relevant information,
M. Emmerson (*)
Queensland Department of Education, Toowoomba, QLD, Australia
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_4
58
M. Emmerson
enable informed and competent students to traverse effectively the vari-

ous obstacles that unnecessarily threaten their chances of success.
In this chapter, I take the perspective of a research administra-
tor to argue that, to lift completion rates and to encourage a culture
of research success, universities must reassess how relevant knowledge
is communicated to students and supervisors throughout the entire
research degree process. The chapter begins with a discussion of the
problems faced by research student success in the modern university
environment. It then notes how some issues, such as crises in compe-
tence and imposter syndrome, can be combated by improved institu-
tional communication, which is viewed as a unifying and empowering
force (Slack, 2006, pp. 223–231) if implemented correctly. The impor-
tant relationship between institutional communication and the growth
of successful cultures of research collaboration is also noted, before the
chapter ends with a discussion of the benefits of preparing and empow-
ering graduates for life after the dissertation.
Ultimately, the chapter argues that institutional responsibilities in
developing open lines of communication and training among all stake-
holders via various platforms are key in encouraging “success”, reducing
attrition rates and ensuring that institutions maximise research outputs
for the time, energy and monetary funds invested. In a world of com-
mercialised research outputs, it is the empowering and unifying elements
of communication as a practice rather than regulatory reporting that will
ensure a sustainable research culture while driving successful graduates
into the twenty-first century.
Commodification, Attrition and the Obstacles

to Research Student Success
Before discussing how universities’ focus on empowered communi-
cation can foster a culture of success among its research students, it
is important to first note the major structural changes and issues that
impede modern RHD studies. According to Taylor (2012, p. 120),
“over the last two decades the number of people registering for doctoral
programs in most countries has grown rapidly” as the research activity
4 Communicating “Success” with Research Students …
59
at universities is influenced by processes of massification, internationali-

sation, and diversification. But it has also been heavily influenced by the
processes of commercialisation, where strict provider–consumer frame-
works have come to dominate a research culture once built upon tradi-
tional closed-doors and “secretive” master–apprentice style supervisory
relationships. With the “McDonaldisation” of research degrees in recent
decades, public research sponsors across much of the globe have baulked
at the traditional laissez-faire attitude to Ph.D. completions and instead
sought to improve completion times through a conveyor-belt system of
outcomes-based regulation, progress reporting, and the enforcement of
time and funding limits (Taylor, 2012, p. 122).
This increasing commodification and regulation of the research
degree journey comes as no surprise, especially in countries where pub-
lic and reportable funding is used to support many students regardless
of their eventual completion or attrition. In Australia, the Research
Training Scheme (RTS), designed to support Higher Education
Providers in meeting the costs of research training for domestic RHD
students, contributed approximately $620 million to the total $1.51
billion of government funds dedicated to research and research train-
ing in 2011 (Deloitte Access Economics, 2011, p. 3). In the United
Kingdom, where the Higher Education Funding Council for England
(HEFCE) uses a block grant approach based on research student load to
partly fund research training, some £1558 million was spent on research
funding in 2015–2016 (HEFCE, 2015, p. 4). Other western coun-
tries, such as Canada, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, France, Germany,
and the Netherlands also have varieties of public funding for research
degrees and are therefore heavily interested in maximising completions
and outcomes for the funds spent (Deloitte Access Economics, 2011,
pp. 43–45). While countries such as the United States limit research
funding to federal scholarships and research grants, relying on many
students to pay tuition fees for their period of candidature or receive
fee relief directly from institutions (Deloitte Access Economics, 2011,
pp. 7–8), the “attrition of doctoral students is [still deemed] costly to
society” (Smith, Maroney, Nelson, Abel, & Abel, 2006, p. 17).
Despite such growing regulation concerning research students
and the push for accountable degree completions in many countries,
60
M. Emmerson
stress and attrition levels in the RHD sector remain high around the
world (Sakurai, Pyhältö, & Lindblom-Ylänne, 2012, p. 99). In North
America, for example, doctoral attrition rates are estimated to sit at
somewhere between 40 and 50% (Litalien & Guay, 2015, p. 218).
While it is difficult to ascertain the exact attrition rates in countries
such as Australia and the United Kingdom due to the varieties of enrol-
ment patterns, study breaks and research setbacks that extend degrees
for much longer than their “standard” time frames, the rift between the
numbers of enrolments and those eventual completions can be gener-
alised as considerable. Anxiety regarding postgraduate non-completion
rates has remained an issue for government funding bodies for several
decades, with “attrition and time taken to complete as long-standing
causes for concern in Britain, Canada, the USA and Australia” (Wright
& Cochrane, 2000, p. 183). Furthermore, research degree attrition is
seen as a significant problem for not only funding bodies worried about
efficiency dividends, but also the universities themselves, as it “reduces
resources and at the same time incurs costs for faculty members who
have invested considerable time in research projects that will never be
completed” (Litalien & Guay 2015, p. 218).
With this problem in mind, the question of why research students
withdraw from tertiary study should first be addressed, to acknowl-
edge where institutions can focus their attention in improving comple-
tion rates through enhanced institutional communication practices.
According to Cook (2009, p. 2.), the roots of attrition in higher educa-
tion stem from a variety of causes, including a lack of preparedness for
higher education, uncertainties in their long-term goals, social isolation,
or financial problems. “Many of the factors associated with student with-
drawal are not solely attributable to the student” (Cook, 2009, p. 3), as
often students misunderstand institutional expectations, or are insuffi-
ciently supported during their university experience. Smith et al. (2006,
p. 18) highlight several important organisational factors that also affect
research degree attrition, namely the student selection process, program
structure or lack thereof, ineffective or non-caring advisors, lack of pro-
gram flexibility, and a lack of community within the program itself.
These organisational factors all contribute to a major reason for research
degree attrition: self-doubt. According to Litalien and Guay (2015, p. 229),
61
“perceived competence appears to be the cornerstone of doctoral studies

persistence”. Crises in competence—or at least the belief of research incom-
petence and “imposter syndrome”—are more pronounced in research
degree programs due in part to their nature as autonomous, lengthy, and
with less structured indicators of competent progression. Litalien and Guay
also note the importance of a quality student–advisor relationship, as well
as the interactions with other faculty members as sources of encouragement
(2015, p. 229). As will be discussed in the next section, this is where effec-
tive communication strategies and support networks—designed around
the notion of communication as a practice designed to empower and unite
students—must be implemented to ensure students are well-informed of
the trials that they will face, are able to self-assess their progress in a posi-
tive light, and push on towards completion without walking away. Without
revisiting how universities actually impart practical knowledge to higher
degree research students, they are, in fact, simply setting many promising
students up to fail.
Communication and Completions: Institutions

Empowering Students and Supervisors
Through Quality Information, Inductions,
and Research Training Programs
For many students undertaking a RHD, self-doubt and attrition is
largely due to a breakdown in expectations, processes, and the percep-
tion of progress towards an end goal that may not necessarily be com-
pletion, but an individual’s idea of what constitutes their own success.
As Semenza insightfully tells willing postgraduate readers in the United
States:
Throughout your graduate career, you will be bombarded by devastating

statistics about the job market, many of which will seem custom-made to
deepen your own personal anxieties. And despite all of these reminders
about what you need to do to succeed, only rarely will someone actually
stop to explain to you how you might do it. (Semenza, 2010, pp. 1–2)
62
M. Emmerson
It comes as no surprise that there is a large market for Ph.D. “self-help”

books, written by academics to help research students “crack the code”
by researching “how to do research”. Most RHD resources taking up
space in the libraries of institutions, such as Doctorates Downunder
(Denholm & Evans, 2012) or Doing Postgraduate Research in Australia
(Stevens & Asmar, 1999) are very helpful for the interested Ph.D. stu-
dents in advising what they need to do, how they can break up the
process into manageable sections and avoid common problems. While
such resources are a lifeline for the astute research student, many others
may not realise this until it is too late, instead relying on the institu-
tion to provide sufficient information to traverse the research experience
and complete successfully. The fact that so many books exist on how
to avoid the pitfalls of research indicates the opposite that many stu-
dents are often left in the dark on what they need to do by institutions
themselves, and that much of the knowledge of “how to” succeed in
the research environment is left to external parties. Instead, this section
argues that rather than outsourcing the idea of success to such manu-
als and self-help gurus, institutions themselves need to take a greater
responsibility for imparting quality information to students at all mile-
stones in the RHD student journey. In this way, can attrition be less-
ened and research success be cultivated.
As the above examples indicate, “success” in research seems intrin-
sically linked to how students can locate and interpret the messages
being sent their way via a range of pathways, voices, and media, and
then act accordingly—how they communicate with the world around
them. In this sense, this chapter sees “communication” from a broad
definition where many competing meanings regarding relationships
and shared knowledge coalesce; “Communication”, Slack writes, “is
the process of transmitting messages from sender to receiver, it is the
process of encoding and decoding, it is the effect of a message on a
receiver, it is the negotiation of shared meaning, it is community, it is
ritual… [yet] communication is not in essence any of these, and it is
not any of these exclusively” (Slack, 2006, p. 223). The defining char-
acteristic of the type of desired institutional communication discussed
in this chapter, however, is its role to empower and forge strong rela-
tionships between sender and receiver. Slack is insistent on treating
63
communication as “articulation”, whereby all interactions can be seen

through a “contingent joining of parts to make a unity or identity that
constitutes a context, and the empowerment and disempowerment of
certain ways of imagining and acting within that context” (Slack, 2006,
p. 225). Depending on what information, experiences, ideologies, and
material is presented and “articulated” with or joined to other values,
structures, and organisations, can messages be understood with vary-
ing outcomes. But communication can also be viewed as a practice, “a
coherent set of activities that are commonly engaged in, and meaningful
in particular ways, among people familiar with a certain culture” (Craig,
2006, p. 38). In this respect, communication is an important relational
tool and one that can be done well, poorly, or not at all (Craig, 2006,
p. 40). It is therefore imperative that the correct messages are sent and
received in a positive and constructive light. For the purpose of this
chapter, “communicating success” can be described as having an empha-
sis on how correctly coded messages, information, and programs can be
used as “articulated practices” to create unity and empower those who
interpret them and make use of such knowledge to negotiate the world
in which they live. For research students, communication is therefore a
significant part in ensuring that they have the capacity to avoid prob-
lems through capturing and interpreting the positive and constructive
messages that are transmitted to them. If they do not, “success” may be
fleeting indeed, or completely out of reach.
Laske and Zuber-Skerritt note that “Communication plays a crucial
role in postgraduate education. Sharing ideas and constantly negotiat-
ing meaning reduces the ‘lonely researcher’ syndrome” as well as being
a vital component in imparting one’s research to the wider community
(1996, p. 11). But successful communication between institutions, stu-
dents, and supervisors is important very early, even prior to commence-
ment, from the very first moment a student considers undertaking a
research degree. As Eley and Murray (2009, pp. 27–28) write, the last
few decades have seen increasing demands on postgraduate research stu-
dents, and “an awareness of all matters related to admissions are funda-
mental to their progress in the early stages of their research program and
beyond”. It is important that an institution advises potential applicants
of what a Ph.D. or a research master degree actually is, and what they
64
M. Emmerson
will be doing if they choose to commence. Smith et al. (2006, p. 19)

argue that the selection of research students should be much more than
simply a focus on academic merit or official entry requirements, but
the process should also act to impart further knowledge to applicants
so that they adequately “know the rigorous course of study they are
selecting before the application process” concludes. Supervisors, who
will be committing to a relationship with the applicant for at least three
years, should also be especially keen to “scout” their new wards and
inform them of how they operate their expectations and responsibili-
ties if they do commence, and thoroughly understand the motivations
of each applicant. Through such discussions the supervisor can tailor the
applicant’s desired research journey accordingly while “positively dis-
couraging” those who have not thought it through the formal quality
recruitment information such as university websites and publications.
Advice on the intensity of the research lifestyle prior to commence-
ment can sometimes ready applicants to abolish romanticised views of
the RHD journey and instead be prepared for the hard work that will
culminate in completion and success—working long hours in isola-
tion (Semenza, 2010, p. 37). Furthermore, in incorporating an inter-
view as part of the application process, institutions can assess eligibility
based on a prospective research student’s personal needs, countering any
unfounded expectations of the research journey while greatly assisting
their preparation for the trials ahead (Smith et al., 2006, p. 19).
Providing suitable information for both students and supervisors in
the early stages of commencement is possibly the most important aspect
in communicating an institution’s expectations, support structures, and
limitations. As Laske and Zuber-Skerritt argue, postgraduate research-
ers must be supported by departmental and institutional practices that
assist the effective communication of postgraduate rights, rules, regula-
tions, and guidelines in a way that is designed to meet the faculty and
students’ expectations and standards; to “be clearly formulated and dis-
tributed, but also discussed within the department, school or faculty”
(Laske & Zuber-Skerritt, 1996, p. 13). The ways in which universities
impart this information to research students is also an important con-
sideration, and must consider the changing face of postgraduate study
to an increasingly online environment. Online supportive research
65
networks have become more necessary in recent decades, with the

increasing opportunity for students to complete research degrees by
distance. How institutions communicate to those who have little face-
to-face or on-campus contact with supervisors, faculty, or research
administrators is now vital for support strategies to keep up with social
and technological changes. Albion and Erwee (2011, pp. 121–128)
have noted that distance doctoral attrition rates can be 10–20% above
on-campus levels. Students by distance, removed from the centre of the
research culture and isolated from support networks, face greater chal-
lenges to ignorance of university processes, policies, and opportunities,
and are often unable to easily solve problems affecting their studies as
those on-campus.
As a result of such a shift, internet resources, in particular institu-
tional home pages and sections devoted to research, must be informa-
tive and accurate, yet realistic. They must also be easy to navigate, and
relevant information must have a logical layout to ensure the pages are
seen by students as a valuable way to access important information. The
formal writing style of many official university websites, which must
project outwards to the community as well as inwards to its students,
often inhibits universities’ ability to connect to their current student
population in any real depth, so other avenues of electronic commu-
nication may be beneficial to complement the official internet infor-
mation. Emails can easily be missed, deleted, or ignored—especially
if an institution fills a student’s email inbox with irrelevant or unnec-
essary items—but most universities now have student portals and
secure online sites which can be treated somewhat like closed-group
undergraduate study pages and forums. The author’s home university
has enjoyed much success in creating a research student Moodle site,
which contains relevant information about the research student jour-
ney, forms, contacts within faculty, discussion forums, and important
dates, written in a relaxed style and easier to navigate than official pages
designed for a much wider audience. Treated like a normal undergrad-
uate subject study page, this “Research Higher Degree Moodle site” can
extend the amount of information and community focus to isolated
research students. Furthermore, recent forays into social media have
gained momentum through the creation of institutionally organised
66
M. Emmerson
Facebook pages. Intended to provide an accessible platform for the uni-

versity’s RHD student population, embracing such familiar social net-
working technologies have enabled students to eagerly share stories,
research, advice and form strong connections in the virtual world. In a
world where many students will rarely visit their institutions nor have
face-to-face communication with even their supervisors, it is impor-
tant that the interface between student and support networks is clear,
accessible, and most of all, seen to be a resource worth using to clear
up possible issues before they reach critical mass or affect chances of
completion.
Based around a strong online portal, universities can begin to ensure
that institutional policies are adequately communicated to interested
parties and are consequently used to ensure quality, standardised proce-
dures, as well as transparency and equity among students. This commu-
nication of policies, procedures, and useful information is best carried
out through inductions and introductory courses based on university
legislation. However, depending on their length and content, many stu-
dents can still remain unaware of a majority of their rights and respon-
sibilities afterwards, let alone how to carry out effective research. Wiley
and Mort (2005, p. 766) argue that in a modern research environ-
ment where students demand a “fuller experience together with assis-
tance and advice on development of skills to effectively manage their
research”, long-term inductions or research development programs over
the course of the degree are vital in developing such a research culture
through active communication and encouragement on the part of the
institution. Aimed to foster a learning environment based on multi-
disciplinary teamwork and reflective practice, institutional induc-
tion programs must ensure that all aspects of the RHD journey are
covered in depth, to not only introduce students to the postgraduate
research environment, but also “clarify and align the expectations of
the faculty, schools, and supervisors for the students; inform students
of faculty requirements, policies, and procedures; encourage develop-
ment of skills essential to research… reduce student isolation… [and]
create a multidisciplinary collegial environment for future network-
ing” (2005, p. 768). Effective communication also extends to enabling
quality ongoing training for supervisors in areas such as professional
67
relationship building, empowering others, student mentoring, research

collaboration, writing for publications and grants, and helping students
gain professional positions after graduation (Smith et al., 2006, p. 21).
In building up the knowledge base of both the supervisor and the stu-
dent, institutions can help empower that very important relationship
between the two.
Expanding induction programs and student/supervisor training to
act as the beginnings of full research training programs that continue
throughout the student’s journey can also be of benefit. Ultimately,
such university-led initiatives that extend outside traditional supervi-
sor–student relationships can help foster an inclusive research culture
in which “high-quality research, awards, publications, and successful
grant applications are facilitated, developed, and rewarded” (Laske &
Zuber-Skerrit, 1996, p. 14). Programs that act to inform students of the
steps to “research success”, create a portfolio of research skills and enable
them to succeed not only at university, but also after graduation, should
be another prime focus of institutions. The creation of staff-led seminar
series, built on the relaying of practical information to groups of post-
graduate researchers such as job prospects, publishing, teaching, and
balancing commitments, can help fill the void left by a busy supervisor
and encourage collegiality while enabling mentoring from wider afield
than a student’s small inner circle.
Communicating a Culture of Research

Completions Through Collaboration
As Thomson and Walker (2010, p. 10) state, university-produced
“manuals of procedures and lists of suggestions do not successfully

address cultures of doctoral education and supervision because getting
a PhD involves more than ‘generating a product or perfecting a set of
skills’”. Instead, it is important that university initiatives such as induc-
tions and student portals focus on the importance of collaboration, col-
legiality, and networking to enable competent and engaged researchers
who believe in their abilities and can maintain successful relationships
within the academic community. As such, combatting isolationism
68
M. Emmerson
should be another major focus of universities in creating a successful

research culture, which Holmes (1996, p. 40) identifies as being, at a
broad level, the shared and substantial research values among members
of an effective research group. This may include common characteris-
tics such as consistency between the mission, goal and objectives of the
university or research group, supportive research and research postgrad-
uate training policies, effective staff development programs and reward
mechanisms, effective research leadership, and a willingness to collab-
orate, to name a few. At the heart of each of these characteristics is the
effective communication of what is required to perform well and excel
as part of a team.
Institutions have a responsibility to help students break away from
isolated and solitary research practices through encouraging greater
levels of empowered communication themselves. The creation of com-
munities of practice and research groups is one such way of involv-
ing students in community-led collegial projects. Universities can also
take the initiative in encouraging the bonds of research friendship
through student societies and associations, meet-ups, and the role of
formal postgraduate representatives. In joining such communal activi-
ties, research students can compare progress against others and deter-
mine that their own issues with self-doubt are shared, or not nearly
as drastic as to contemplate quitting. Holmes (1996, p. 45) especially
notes the importance of promoting and supporting postgraduate
students’ associations as a way of helping students help themselves.
Many student groups can easily fail due to lack of interest or time
from students busy working on their own research, where some form
of financial or communicative assistance from the universities can
help such associations gain traction and become self-supporting.
Once again, the author’s home institution has also enjoyed great suc-
cess collaboratively through the establishment of a centralised infor-
mation system designed to inform and link researchers and keep the
entire university up to date with research activities, seminars, pro-
jects, and publications, named ReDTrain (Researcher Development
and Training). Frequent bulletins and the inclusion of all departments
limit fragmentation and alienation of staff and students while pro-
moting important researcher endeavours. In enabling a higher level
69
of communication among students, institutions can forge mutual

support networks, combatting isolation and negating competi-
tion between students who could be better served acting collegially
(Conrad & Zuber-Skerritt, 1996, p. 101). Communities of practice,
research groups, sponsored postgraduate associations,and innovative
projects such as ReDTrain act as institutional-led support frameworks
where students can gain insight and ideas from others in the same sit-
uation, negate emotional stress and be encouraged, very early on, to
form working partnerships and help complete publications through
collaboration.
Lastly, maintaining open lines of communication between institu-
tions, supervisors, and students can enable more successful feedback
mechanisms that seek to unravel isolated student concerns and address
significant issues before they cause students to withdraw. Student
forums, postgraduate societies, and online student questionnaires are
important avenues for feedback, and can be used to not only measure
progress or supervisor–student relationships, but also adequately address
ways in which information can be better transmitted to them and
improve their level of satisfaction and confidence. It is also important
for such feedback mechanisms to include other stakeholders, such as
employers, sponsors, supervisors, and recent graduates to further under-
stand the institution’s strengths and weaknesses in imparting knowl-
edge and adapting to the needs of all involved (Eley & Murray, 2009,
p. 169). Such strategies are aimed at creating productive, competent
researchers through effective imparting of knowledge of the “journey”
when they need it most.
Conclusion: Setting Students

Up for Success Post-Completion
While completion is often the regulatory requirement driving the idea
of student “success”, it is still important to end this discussion with a
focus on post-completion success and the benefits to students and
institutions. Significantly, many of the communicative strategies
involved in preparing students for successful completion through
70
M. Emmerson
empowerment and reciprocity can be extended to supporting them

after graduation. Throughout the RHD journey, students should be
informed of the realities of modern research, how to go about pub-
lishing, realistic planning and timeframes for working constructively
on future goals, while discouraging self-doubt in the hyper-competi-
tive job market of modern academia. Eley and Murray (2009, p. 166)
note that the purpose of many research degrees has changed over the
last few decades, and now many more students qualify for a doctorate
than there are permanent academic positions in many countries and
many academic disciplines. In order to assuage those dropping out after
the realisation that many will not enter academia no matter how hard
they struggle or publish, universities need to communicate how their
programmes are built around concepts of a formalised “research train-
ing programme” that enable students to acquire a portfolio of relevant
lifelong skills, rather than simply produce a thesis to gather dust on a
library shelf.
Upon graduating and becoming early career researchers, many stu-
dents will still be ill-equipped to deal with the raft of new challenges
standing between them and successful continued research. Attrition
does not simply happen during a degree, but afterwards, as research
degree graduates struggle to stay in the field in those crucial years
directly after completing. As Tynan and Garbett (2007) state, “getting a
foothold on the academic ladder can be a daunting prospect. For some
early career researchers, achieving this goal seems almost impossible”
(p. 411), being cut off from mentoring, encouragement and financial
assistance while being required to take on heavy teaching workloads
on short-term contracts while trying to publish work and develop a
research profile. As competitive and individualistic tendencies take hold
once more, it is up to institutions to continue to communicate sup-
port and encouragement to its graduates, providing opportunities for
them to communicate with one another through alumni portals and to
form collaborative research structures, rather than cutting them loose
post-completion.
To support properly research students still planning their futures,
institutions need to focus on these aspects. Completion is not really
71
the end goal here, despite the focus of funding bodies expectant
on a reportable outcome, but instead a launch pad to a promising
research career. It is an important milestone, one that needs to be passed
rather than reached, and graduates must keep enough energy in the
tank to keep going after completion. Universities should not wish
to produce exhausted and bewildered graduates who decide to leave
the profession once they do submit, as that in itself is a waste of tal-
ent. As Stevens and Asmar (1999) note, “post-thesis burnout”
(p. 102) affects over a third of graduates, greatly inhibiting them from
any further research. Only by treating the entire process of an RHD
completion as only one part of a greater journey that aims to cre-
ate a competent, lifelong researcher—explaining the highs, the lows,
the expectations and the realities of the experience through effective
communication—can universities be conscious actors in encouraging
this success.
The sink or swim mentality of traditional research training has never
been viable, and is extremely inefficient for modern universities that
are tasked with reportable and quality outcomes for all stakeholders.
Without attaining a working knowledge of the RHD process, what
is expected from them by their university and what to do when they
encounter difficulties, students are liable to waste substantial amounts
of time and effort, experience high levels of mental anguish, fall behind
in their timelines, extend submission dates and eventually withdraw
from their studies. Minimising these negative experiences should be a
university’s priority. By focusing the attention of support structures on
how information is relayed, a cohort of empowered students can be best
situated to complete their research project as easily and effectively as
possible. Research training programmes and empowering communica-
tion strategies must be developed to ensure that admitted students avoid
crises of competency, and have the tools at their disposal to traverse
the pitfalls of the RHD journey. The role of institutions should not be
about throwing students in the deep end and seeing who surfaces, but
instead teaching them the ways to thrive in an encouraging and respon-
sible research environment, led by strong institutional communication
practices.
72
M. Emmerson
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5
A Picture of the Research
Field of Doctoral Education
from the Students’ Perspectives: Studies
Using Questionnaires and Scales
Maria Cerrato Lara,
Montserrat Castelló Badia and Kirsti Lonka
Introduction
Researcher development has become a key policy issue of concern
among institutional leaders in recent years, and it is now a field of
research in the field of higher education. In this context, the Ph.D.
experience, broadly defined conceptually as a journey (e.g. McAlpine,
2012; Taylor, 2011), has attracted a lot of research interest. The meta-
phor of a quest (McCulloch, 2013) has also been used. An alternative
M. Cerrato Lara (*)

Universitat Internacional de Catalunya, Barcelona, Spain
e-mail: mcerratolara@uic.es
M. C. Badia
Universitat Ramon Llull, Barcelona, Spain
K. Lonka
Optentia Research Focus Area, North-West University,
Vanderbijlpark, South Africa
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_5
76
M. Cerrato Lara et al.
metaphor presented in this book is that of traversing, but how are the
views of stakeholders represented?
Studies based on the views of doctoral students have pursued two
main aims: firstly, to enhance understanding of career development
(research-oriented) and secondly, to improve doctoral programmes
(quality–assessment-oriented). The former tend to be small-scale studies,
whereas the latter are more commonly larger in scale.
This review focuses on large-scale studies, specifically those in which
questionnaires and scales are used to screen the pre-doctoral population.
It is potentially of interest to both administrators and researchers in the
field of doctoral education regardless of whether they are thinking of
using readily available instruments for measuring the Ph.D. experience
or of designing new ones.
We believe that our review has relevance because we did not find any
others measuring the doctoral experience, except the one conducted by
Evans and Stevenson (2010): this covered 16 studies undertaken between
1990 and 2009, and specifically measured the learning experiences of
international doctoral students without focusing on large-scale research.
Methodology
We used the PsycInfo and ERIC databases in our comprehensive review, with
no limitation on the year of publication. The search terms included “PhD”,
“doctor*” and “graduate” on the one hand, and “questionnaire”, “survey”
and “scale” on the other, resulting in a total of nine combinations for each
database. The initial electronic search resulted in 208 potential articles.
Articles that evaluated the Ph.D. from a perspective other than that of the
student were excluded. Other common exclusion criteria were a focus on the
respondents’ concerns about their post-Ph.D. career prospects or employ-
ment level and, to a lesser extent, their experiences in the transition to teach-
ing. The full article was reviewed in ambiguous cases. Having selected a total
of 47 original empirical studies, we used the snowball method in the form
of a manual search of the references listed in the selected articles to find oth-
ers. We also used Google Web Search because some large-scale studies con-
ducted by governments and universities were published as reports and not as
journal articles. As a result, 53 studies were included in this review.
5 A Picture of the Research Field of Doctoral Education …
77
For presentation purposes we classified the selected studies by

g eographical area. For each area we classified them according to whether
the data was collected among Ph.D. students who were conducting
their studies (understanding the experience as a current process) or
when they had completed them and were doctoral graduates (in retro-
spect). In some cases, we also found mixed-sample studies (e.g. Ph.D.
students combined with their supervisors or with recent graduates). We
distinguished two main groups: studies examining the general Ph.D.
experience and those dealing with specific aspects of it.
Results
The reviewed studies are summarized according to the classification
described using the questions words Where (geographical area), When
(stage of the process) and What (general Ph.D. experience or specific
aspects). At the same, they are listed chronologically.
None of the large-scale studies measuring the Ph.D. experience were
conducted in Africa: a few were carried out in the continent, but on
a small scale. It is notable that a large proportion of them were con-
ducted in the last decade (80% after 2011), which confirms empirically
that researcher development is a novel field of research in the context of
higher education (see Table 5.3 for the respective numbers and percent-
ages related to the three question words).
To categorize the content of the Ph.D. experience (the What ), we
included studies under the general experience label that measured stu-
dents’ representations and evaluations of their Ph.D. programmes and
institutions, their interactions with supervisors and other colleagues, the
working climate in which they developed their research, their personal
involvement and their future expectations. Certain socio-demographic
(especially gender, ethnicity and funding) and academic (especially time
elapsed since the commencement of Ph.D. studies) information was
commonly collected. With regard to the latter, several studies investi-
gated the factors that influence the completion of doctoral studies.
Studies in the other What category (specific aspects of the Ph.D.
experience) were more numerous. Table 5.2 groups them by generic
78
or specific content. A few belong in more than one content category:

Shafaei and Razak (2018), for example, analysed the doctoral expe-
rience in terms of cultural adaptation and well-being, thus the study
appears twice in our table—under both aspects. There were also stud-
ies in which some content was measured as a recurrent variable rather
than the main topic, as in the case of some indicators of well-being and
socialization: these are marked with asterisks for the benefit of research-
ers interested in exploring them further.
Studies measuring specific aspects of the Ph.D. experience were clas-
sified into eight research themes that illustrate the main topics that have
been investigated thus far in the literature review: personal variables that
interfere when pursuing a Ph.D., assessment of the scientific environ-
ment to which students belong, the evolution of the Ph.D. journey,
perceptions of the candidates’ disciplines, their research perspectives,
approaches to Ph.D. writing, well-being in their doctoral studies and
socialization aspects.
Both the challenges that doctoral candidates face when conducting
their Ph.D. studies and their approaches to academic writing represent
the older traditions (from 1991 and 1992, respectively). Earlier studies
exist, but they represent small-scale research and are thus beyond the
scope of our review. Another aspect worth highlighting is that studies
analysing paths in the Ph.D. process were the ones that placed most
emphasis on indicators of socialization and well-being.
Table 5.3 provides a descriptive analysis of the information given in
Tables 5.1 and 5.2.
Forty-three per cent of the studies were conducted in the USA and
Canada, 66% focused on participants engaged in their Ph.D. stud-
ies and 62% examined specific aspects of the Ph.D. experience. At the
other end of the scale, only 4% of the studies took place in Oceania,
6% focused on the Ph.D. experience in retrospect and 38% examined
the doctoral experience on a more general level.
In relation to the research themes, although academic writing was the
most common topic in this field (5 studies), in terms of generic catego-
ries the paths in the Ph.D. process attracted the most attention (30%),
followed by the learning context (21%). On the other hand, some
Table 5.1 Studies using questionnaires and scales measuring Ph.D. students’ experiences on a large scale
Where When What Studies
USA and During Ph.D. General experience Golde and Dore (2001), Maton et al. (2016), Nettles and Millett (2006), and Shapiro,
Canada Hudson, and Downey (2017)
Specific aspects Crede and Borrego (2014), Fang, Bednash, and Arietti (2016), Feldon, Peugh, Maher,
Roksa, and Tofel-Grehl (2017), Miller, Duron, Bosk, Finno-Velasquez, and Abner (2016),
Van Dusen, Barthelemy, and Henderson (2014), Zhao, Golde, and McCormick (2007),
and Zimak, Edwards, Johnson, and Suhr (2011)
After Ph.D. General experience Bowen and Rudenstine (1992), Morrison, Rudd, Zumeta, and Nerad (2011), and NORC
(2012)
Mixed General experience Barnes and Randall (2011), Hardré and Hackett (2015), Kim, Park, Park, Khan, and
Ketefian (2014), and Petr et al. (2015)
Specific aspects Anderson (1996), Dreifuerst et al. (2016), Hughes et al. (2015), and Rodriguez-Menendez,
Dempsey, Albizu, Power, and Campbell Wilkerson (2017)
Europe During Ph.D. General experience Jacobsson and Gillström (2006) and Chiang (2011)
Specific aspects Alvarez, Elexpuru, Castelló, Villardón-Gallego, and Yániz (2017), Butter (2014), Cerrato-
Lara, Castelló, García-Velázquez, and Lonka (2017), Gibbs et al. (2016), Martinsuo and
Turkulainen (2011), Lonka et al. (2014), Lonka, Ketonen, Vekkaila, Cerrato-Lara, and
Pyhältö (2018), Pyhältö, Stubb, and Lonka (2009), Pyhältö, Toom, Stubb, and Lonka
(2012), Pyhältö, Vekkaila, and Keskinen (2015), Stubb, Pyhältö, and Lonka (2011, 2012),
Torrance, Thomas, and Robinson (1992; 1994), Van der Linden et al. (2018), and van
Hout (1991)
Mixed General experience McKenna, Keeney, Kim, and Park (2014)
Oceania During Ph.D. General experience Pearson, Cumming, Evans, Macauley, and Ryland (2011)
Specific aspects Cantwell, Scevak, Bourke, and Holbrook (2012)
Asia During Ph.D. General experience Halai (2011) and Miki, Gregg, Arimoto, Nagata, and Murashima (2012)
Specific aspects Ge and Ho (2018) and Jung (2018)
Mixed General experience Juntasopeepu, Kunaviktikul, Chintanawat, and Srisuphan (2012), Kim et al. (2012), and
Nagata et al. (2012)
Specific aspects Shafaei, Nejati, and Razak (2018) and Shafaei and Razak (2018)
79
Table 5.2 The content of studies focusing on specific aspects of the Ph.D. experience
Content (generic) Content (specific) Studies
Personal variables Gender Feldon et al. (2017)a,b
80
Cultural adaptation Jacobsson and Gillström (2006),a Chiang (2011), Shafaei et al. (2018),a,b
and Shafaei and Razak (2018)a,b
Personality Cantwell, Scevak, Bourke, and Holbrook (2012)a
Learning context Ph.D. programme Petr et al. (2015),a Ge and Ho (2018), and Rodriguez-Menendez et al.
(2017)a,b
Supervision Zhao et al. (2007), Pyhältö et al. (2015),b Gibbs et al. (2016), and
Rodriguez-Menendez et al. (2017)a,b
Others Anderson (1996) and Jung (2018)
Paths in the Ph.D. process Starting a Ph.D. Zimak et al. (2011), Van Dusen et al. (2014),a and Dreifuerst et al. (2016)
Carrying on with a Ph.D. Martinsuo and Turkulainen (2011), Crede and Borrego (2014),a and Van
der Linden et al. (2018)a,b
Needs and preferences Rodriguez-Menendez et al. (2017),a,b and Van der Linden et al. (2018)a,b
Challenges van Hout (1991) and Pyhältö et al. (2012)a
Future steps Van Dusen et al. (2014)a and Fang et al. (2016)a
Identity Pearson et al. (2011)
Discipline(s) Hughes et al. (2015)
Research/work Stubb et al. (2012),a Butter (2014),a,b and Alvarez et al. (2017),a,b
Academic writing Torrance et al. (1992), Torrance et al. (1994), Lonka et al. (2014),a
Cerrato-Lara et al. (2017), and Lonka et al. (2018)a,b
Well-being Stubb et al. (2011),a Lonka et al. (2014),a Shafaei et al. (2018),a,b and
Shafaei and Razak (2018)
Socialization Pyhältö et al. (2009) and Miller et al. (2016)
aOne or more indicators of well-being are measured
bOne or more indicators of socialization are measured
81
Table 5.3 A descriptive analysis of the studies

Analysed traits n %
Geographical area USA and Canada 23 43
Europe 19 36
Oceania 2 4
Asia 9 17
Stage of the Ph.D. During 35 66
process After 3 6
Mixed 15 28
Content of the General experience 20 38
Ph.D. experience Specific aspectsa 33 62
Personal variables 6 14
Gender 1 2
Cultural adaptation 4 10
Personality 1 2
aspects
Learning context 9 21
Ph.D. programme 3 7
Supervision 4 9
Other 2 7
Paths in the Ph.D. process 13 30
Starting 3 6.5
Carrying on 3 6.5
Needs and 2 5
preferences
Challenges 2 5
Future steps 2 5
Identity 1 2
Discipline(s) 1 2
Research/work 3 7
Academic writing 5 12
Well-being 4 9
Socialization 2 5
aNote: One or more indicators of well-being are measured, n = 24 and 56%
One or more indicators of socialization are measured, n = 13 and 30%
aspects of the Ph.D. experience remain under-explored, such as gender,

personality, identity and discipline (2% each).
Many of the studies (86%) measured some variables of well-being
and/or socialization, which seem to be meaningful indicators to explain
the Ph.D. experience as they can yield valuable information on student
satisfaction from a more emotional perspective.
82
Discussion and Conclusion

Experience is an umbrella term encompassing several related and
frequently overlapping constructs, which makes it potentially difficult
to identify studies that measure the Ph.D. experience. This is why we
did not include experience among our search terms. Our aim was not
only to provide a state-of-the-art database of studies using question-
naires and scales that would be useful for researchers, but also to include
the core elements that have traditionally been taken into consideration
in measurements of the Ph.D. experience, thereby allowing us to describe
the status of Ph.D. students and further to clarify this generic term.
We believe that we achieved this aim in classifying studies under the g eneral
experience category, providing a definition of it (see the description
connected with Table 5.1 complemented by the inherent relation with
well-being and socialisation in Table 5.3).
Not only does our study facilitate the definition of the general Ph.D.
experience, but it also highlights specific aspects of it that we have bro-
ken down into eight themes of research (see Table 5.2). Fifty-one per
cent of these concerned the paths in the Ph.D. process (relevant fac-
tors in the starting/[dis-]continuing phases, major challenges, needs
and preferences, future steps and general aspects of student identity) on
the one hand, and the learning context (mainly concerning the Ph.D.
programme and relationships with supervisors) on the other. These two
most common research themes covered the two objectives mentioned
in the introduction (enhancing understanding of career development
among Ph.D. students, and improving doctoral programmes), which
are fairly well-balanced in the literature. Future research should aim not
only at maintaining this balance, but also at promoting integration.
The focus in this review was on studies measuring doctoral experi-
ence from questionnaires and scales. Studies relying on data collected
by other means (in interviews and discussion groups for the most part)
were not included. It would be interesting to carry out a state-of-the-art
review of these more qualitative studies, most of which include fewer
participants and emphasise in particular the socialisation process and
identity construction of Ph.D. students. Such studies, together with
83
small-scale research based on questionnaires and scales, with their

varying contents and categorisations, would complement our review as
summarised in Tables 5.1, 5.2 and 5.3.
It would also be relevant in future research to focus on interven-
tion and follow-up. Notably, none of the large-scale studies in our
review was longitudinal, which is more typical of small-scale research.
Analysing the evolution of subjects or comparing different cohorts
across generations (and across cultures, especially outside the USA and
Europe where studies in this field are very scarce) could yield valuable
information for researchers interested in analysing paths in the Ph.D.
process. It would also enhance the more general assessment of policies,
practices and programmes, reflecting what does and does not work in
doctoral education in terms of certain signs of success and failure.
Another avenue for future research would be to build up a more robust
body of knowledge of certain themes about which large-scale studies are
lacking, such as gender, personality aspects and identity.1 This would
help to improve the screening of the pre-doctoral population. Again,
these themes are covered more widely in small-scale studies (Cerrato-
Lara, 2014).
Despite the diverse research documenting the experiences of doc-
toral students, and although their perceptions have been used as a good
assessment indicator for Ph.D. programmes, in practice these efforts
seem to have had little impact on educational reforms, despite claims
of generalisation or commonality. Indeed, the effect of such studies has
not been very different from that of research evaluating Ph.D. education
using quantitative data about productivity, equity and efficiency obtained
from university databases going back several decades (e.g. Leming,
1977). Future research should consider this crucial aspect. Another
issue here is that it is not easy to get rid of a praxis in which programme
assessment is very much in the hands of those who provide the service
and not of those who receive it.
1Although only one of the studies reviewed focuses on identity on a larger scale, others deal with it,
but not as a main topic: Nettles and Millett (2006), Juntasopeepu et al. (2012), Kim et al. (2012),
Miki et al. (2012), Nagata et al. (2012) and Hardré and Hackett (2015).
84
Future research should also aim to enhance understanding of doctoral

graduates and non-completers so as to improve the structure and pro-
cess of graduate education, instead of focusing mainly on the perspec-
tive of current Ph.D. students. In any case, it should be borne in mind
that researcher development is an emerging field. We are confident that
future studies will cover the gaps that we have highlighted here.
Acknowledgements This research was funded by the Finnish Funding Agency

for Technology and Innovation (TEKES), the Academy of Finland (308352) and
the Spanish Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness (CSO2013-41108-R).
The authors wish to thank Joan Nordlund, MA, for revising the language.
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6
Engineering the Doctorate:
Designing a Highway to Traverse
Jay Somasundaram and Prue Howard
Introduction
This chapter is in three sections. The first is an approach to analysis,
framed by Crotty’s (1998) scaffolded approach to theorising research
methods. The second section, the design (and construction), describes
the first-named author’s efforts to structure aspects of his own candida-
ture. This section is therefore written in the first person. The final sec-
tion, conclusions, is framed more as questions than as answers, for it is
up to the reader, and ultimately society, to decide whether the doctorate
can and should be engineered.
J. Somasundaram (*) · P. Howard

Central Queensland University,
Rockhampton, QLD, Australia
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_6
92
J. Somasundaram and P. Howard
Analysis
Crotty proposes perceiving the theoretical framework of a research
activity as having four layers: an epistemology, a theoretical approach, a
methodology and methods. This framework (Table 6.1) is used to struc-
ture the analysis.
Table 6.1 The theoretical framework of the analysis
Epistemology Institutional logics

Theoretical perspective Engineering
Methodology Comparative case study
Methods Process/project management
Systematic learning/apprenticeship
Institutional Logics and the Logics

of Universities
An Institutional logic is ‘the socially constructed, historical patterns of
cultural symbols and material practices, including assumptions, val-
ues, and beliefs, by which individuals and organizations provide mean-
ing to their daily activity, organize time and space, and reproduce their
lives and experiences’ (Thornton & Ocasio, 2008). Institutional logics
can thus perhaps be described as a meta-epistemology—it recognises
and accepts that multiple theoretical frameworks co-exist: in societies,
organisations and individuals. Logics exist in both mental constructs,
such as values and beliefs, as well as physical constructs as varied as
architectural design and regulated processes.
An institutional logics approach promote a relatively non-
judgemental perspective: no logic is necessarily superior or more
rational than another, though one may become more dominant or
replace another over time. An understanding of the theory of insti-
tutional logics is particularly useful when investigating the interplay
of different logics. There is, for example, often a tendency to avoid
explicitly addressing conflicts in logics (such as between religious
6 Engineering the Doctorate …
93
and business practices), and such areas are often fertile grounds for
insightful research. This research explores the logics of Education and
the logics of Engineering.
The first universities developed in twelfth century Europe, char-
acterised by a corporate structure independent of both the church
and state, comprising guilds of masters and students (Enders, 2006;
Perkin, 2006), guilds practising the craft of scholarship. However,
by the eighteenth century, universities, with their focus on the tra-
ditional liberal arts of grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, music arithme-
tic, geometry and astronomy, were losing their relevance. Society
was being transformed by the Industrial Revolution and the social
and physical sciences. Most of the research leading to this upheaval
occurred independent of universities, and students were not being
taught the skills needed by these modern professions. The suc-
cess of the Industrial Revolution imprinted (Marquis & Tilcsik,
2013) on society the value of the logics of the physical sciences and
engineering.
It was the Humboldtian model (named after the founder of a
German university), with two critical changes that re-ignited univer-
sities’ relevance to society. Firstly, the specialisation of academics into
specific disciplines permitted research. Secondly, there was a change in
focus from teaching the traditional liberal arts to one directed at meet-
ing the demands of contemporary industry and society (Perkin, 2006).
There is another even more recent logic having a major influence
on universities. One that can be characterised as an economic logic,
characterised by concepts such as capitalism, markets and globalisa-
tion. A principal driver of this logic in universities are governments.
Governments have become the principal funder of most universities
and seek to ensure that universities deliver their services at least cost to
taxpayers.
A parallel force at play is the increasing demand for graduates—
what Trow (2005) characterises as the transformation from an elite to
a mass to a universal higher education system. The traditional craft or
guild approaches to the training and development of apprentices is both
low-volume and high cost.
94
Engineering: The Practical Application of Scientific,

Economic and Social Knowledge
Engineering is used in the sense of ‘the application of scientific,

economic, social, and practical knowledge in order to invent, design,
build, maintain, research, and improve structures, machines, devices,
systems, materials, and processes’. (Tan, 2015, p. xix). Education can
be defined as systematic instruction (“Education”, 2005). Applying
engineering as a theoretical perspective to Education is thus ‘the appli-
cation of scientific, economic, social, and practical knowledge in order
to invent, design, build, maintain, research, and improve systematic
instruction’.
Or more briefly, applied science is the application of science for prac-
tical purposes. Engineering has traditionally been concerned with the
application of the physical sciences (Physics and Chemistry). Education
can be considered as an applied science that applies the science of
learning.
Comparative Case Study: Coursework

and Research Degrees
This research compares and contrasts the coursework degree with
the research degree process, a comparative case study. The two cases,
drawn from an Australian university are the Bachelor of Accounting
(CQUniversity, n.d.-a), and Doctor of Philosophy (CQUniversity,
n.d.-b) courses. The former is abbreviated with the course code CQ01
and the latter CD62. They are selected to represent ideal types: while
many courses are a mix of both coursework and research, these were
selected as they are relatively ‘pure’. This chapter uses the word ‘course’
to refer to a comprehensive programme of study that a student enters
into that leads to an award. A ‘unit’ refers to a single subject, typically
taught during a term. While terminology varies quite considerably, both
in Australia and internationally, the underlying structures and principles
are very common, almost universal across universities.
95
Production Methods: Processes and Projects

There are two contrasting methods for producing goods and services.
Project management is used to produce a unique, one-off set of related
products. Process management is used where the production is regu-
lar and repeated. Each have different risks and therefore favour differ-
ent approaches and quality control methods (cf. Process, 2006; Process
Control Engineering, 2003; Process Engineering, 2003; Production
Engineering, 2003; Project, 2006).
Degrees can be described in the following production terminology.
Each course is a distinct product line for transforming raw material
(applicants) into a finished product—CQ01 produces an accounting
graduate, CD62 produces a doctor of philosophy. The raw material
is initially screened to ensure that it is suitable. CQ01 requires min-
imum specific high school results (a minimum OP1 of 18). CD62
requires master’s degree with research or a bachelor’s honours degree.
Once admitted, the raw material (students) are transformed via the
application of units of learning. Credit points are an important unit of
measurement. They:
• provide students with a guide to the amount of work a unit may involve
• indicate a student’s enrolment load
• define the requirements for an award in the course structure
• quantify the recognition of any credit for prior learning
• assist in calculating a student’s grade point average (GPA), and
• indicate the student’s progress towards completion of an award.
One credit point equates to an expectation of approximately two hours

of student work per week in a term and is the minimum credit value
1“An OP (overall position) is a student’s position in a state-wide rank order based on their over-
all achievement in Authority subjects. It indicates how well a student has done in comparison
to all other OP-eligible students in Queensland and is used for tertiary entrance purposes only.
Students are placed in one of 25 OP bands from OP1 (highest) to OP25 (lowest)”; (The State
of Queensland [Queensland Curriculum and Assessment Authority], 2015). Authority subjects
are specific subjects listed by the Queensland Curriculum and Assessment Authority and for
which they have a sullabus and manage assessment. The OP will be discontinued after 2019.
96
completion requirement for eligibility to graduate. For example, six credit

points has an expectation of approximately 12 hours of student work per
week. This work may be made up of but not limited to lectures, tutorials,
laboratory work, assignment work, and self-study (Credit Points, n.d.).
Both courses require 144 credits points to produce a finished product.
The production structure for each, however, is quite different.
CQ01’s credit points are applied through a total of 24 units, each
worth six credit points. Quality control mechanisms during and at
the end of the unit (assessments, exams) ensure that the learning takes
place. Each unit requires an average of 12 hours learning per week.
Students are processed in batches, in standardised processing cycles of
terms of semesters, with two semesters per year. A full-time student is
expected to take four units a term, a full-time workload of 48 hours per
week. Thus, for a full-time student, a degree takes three years. A degree
can thus be expressed by the following equations:
6 credit points = 1 unit
4 units = full-time study per term (EFTSL)
2 terms = 1 year
3 years EFTSL = = 1 degree1 degree

= 6 credit points × 4 units × 2 terms
× three years = 144 credit points
These equations appear very similar to formulaic tables found in the

physical sciences. Consider the Imperial measures of length:
12 inches = 1 foot
3 feet = 1 yard
22 yards = 1 chain
10 Chains = 1 furlong
97
8 furlongs = 1 mile
1 mile = 8 furlongs × 10 chains × 22 yards × 3 feet × 12 inches = 63, 360 inches
But while the academic formulae provide process convenience, they lack
pedagogic robustness. For example, what exactly are credit points, and
how assured are we that every unit has exactly (or even approximately)
six credit points? Do two units carrying equal credit points have equal
amounts of learning? Furthermore, the amount of study required by a
student calculates to 48 hours per week, 25% above the legally man-
dated 38 hours per week full-time work-load.
However, it is worth recollecting that the origin of the foot was the
length of any man’s foot—a somewhat imprecise and variable measure.
Imperial measures have since given way to the metric system, an arith-
metically simpler and more systematic set of relations. And the metre is
now defined as ‘the length of the path travelled by light in vacuum dur-
ing a time interval of 1/299,792,458 of a second’ (Bureau International
des Poids et Mesures, 1983).
Nevertheless, such a framework does provide considerable peda-
gogic benefit. It breaks a degree into manageable chunks. The knowl-
edge and skill requirements for each course (and unit) are analysed in
detail. Similar material can be grouped together, reducing cognitive
load and aiding consolidation. Assessment every term enforces feedback
and ensures that students’ progress to more complex material only after
prior material has been mastered.
CQ01 therefore resembles a batch processing model. Batches of
students are processed through a series of units. Since each unit serves
many students, capital investment in unit design and control systems
can be amortised over a larger group.
CD62, on the other hand, has only one unit, of 144 credit points.
It has a four-year duration, with two critical quality control points, a
‘Confirmation of Candidature’ (CoC) at the end of one year, and a the-
sis at the end of the course. CD62 therefore is a project: to produce
the unique product—‘a significant original contribution to knowledge’
(CQUniversity, n.d.-a). Perhaps more significantly, responsibility for
98
Fig. 6.1 A diagrammatic representation of the two types of degrees
design and control shifts to the student. Figure 6.1 diagrammatically

represents CQ01 and CD62
Educational Methods: Systematic Learning

and Apprenticeship
Somasundaram, Bowser, and Danaher (2006) suggest four common ele-
ments from their analysis (Fig. 6.2) of instructional design models:
1. The establishment of learning objectives and outcomes;

2. The design of delivery;
3. Delivery; and
4. Assessment.
To these, they add two more as necessary for a knowledge economy:
5. Accreditation, the process of getting the learning accepted by those

such as employers and regulatory authorities, and
6. Maintenance—the process of
a. keeping their skills up-to-date, and
b. practising their profession within ethical guidelines and to
accepted standards.
These latter two are typically provided by non-university agencies, such
as professional bodies or state-regulated agencies.
99
Systematic Learning Shambaugh and Magiiaro

Dick, carey and carey (2005)
(Somasundaram et ai, 2006) (2006)
identify instructional learning

goals the establishment of outcomes
conduct instructional learning objectives or
analysis outcomes
assessment
analyse learners the design of
and contexts delivery
write performance teaching
delivery (including
objectives
formative assessment)
develop assessment
instruments assessment. technology
develop instructional
strategy accreditation.
develop and select
instructional materials maintenance
Fig. 6.2 Comparison of instructional design models (Somasundaram et al., 2006)
Specification of learning objectives or outcomes occurs at multiple

levels. The Australian Qualification Frameworks seeks to ensure con-
sistency across educational institutions (that is at the federal or national
level). It specifies five outcome descriptors: Purpose; Knowledge; Skills;
Application of Knowledge and Skills; and Volume of learning. The
knowledge specification for a Bachelors degree (such as CQ01) is:
Graduates of a Bachelor Degree will have a broad and coherent body

of knowledge, with depth in the underlying principles and concepts
in one or more disciplines as a basis for independent lifelong learning.
(Australian Qualifications Framework Council, 2013, p. 16)
In comparison, the Knowledge specification for Graduates of a Doctoral

Degree (such as CD62) is:
Graduates of a Doctoral Degree will have:
• a substantial body of knowledge at the frontier of a field of work or learn-

ing, including knowledge that constitutes an original contribution
• substantial knowledge of research principles and methods applicable
to the field of work or learning. (Australian Qualifications Framework
Council, 2013, p. 17)
100
The university specifies a set of Graduate Attributes (applicable to

CQ01). An example is:
Formulate strategies to identify, define and solve problems including, as

necessary, global perspectives. (CQUniversity, 2017a, p. 2)
There is a separate set of graduate attributes for postgraduate research

(applicable to CD62). An example is:
Critically analyse and evaluate methodologies and conclusions and

extrapolate theoretical propositions at an advanced level. (CQUniversity,
2017a, p. 5)
At the course level, CQ01 has six core learning outcomes specified in
the University Handbook. The third one, for example, reads:
Critically apply theoretical and technical accounting knowledge and skills to

provide possible solutions to routine business issues (CQUniversity, n.d.-a).
Learning outcomes or objectives are further specified through a semi-

rigid sequence of units: to complete the course, students must com-
plete 16 core units and 8 units from a major or 4 units each from
two minors. In this case, semi-rigid means that some units have pre-
requisites, units are graded into levels (e.g. 1st year) and there are rules
limiting the number of 1st year units that can be taken. Each unit also
has its own learning outcomes specified. For example, the core unit
‘ACCT11059 - Accounting, Learning and Online Communication’ lists
five outcomes—activities the student will be able to perform after suc-
cessfully completing the unit. For example:
2. Discuss the usefulness of accounting information to management.

(CQUniversity, n.d.-c)
The units are designed at a week by week level, with unit profiles speci-
fying what will be taught each week and teaching methods. Significant
attention is also paid to assessment. The number of assessment items in
101
the unit and their individual weights are specified. A typical unit has
three assessments, two during the unit and a final exam worth 50% of
the marks. The assessment tasks are also mapped both to the learning
outcomes and to the graduate attributes.
CD62 has only one learning outcome specified in the Handbook:
apply knowledge and skills to demonstrate autonomy, authoritative

judgement, adaptability and responsibility as an expert and leading prac-
titioner or scholar. (CQUniversity, n.d.-b)
However, the university ‘Research Higher degree Theses Policy and

Procedure’ (CQUniversity, 2017b) has a paragraph that can be inter-
preted as guidance on learning outcomes:
A thesis presented for an AQF Level 10 Doctoral award (e.g. Doctor of

Education, Doctor of Philosophy, Doctor of Philosophy (Offshore),
Doctor of Philosophy (by Portfolio), and Doctor of Professional Studies)
must provide evidence of expert, specialised, cognitive, technical, and
research skills in a discipline area. The candidate must demonstrate a
capacity to independently and systematically:
• demonstrate knowledge through systemic and critical understanding

of a substantial and complex body of knowledge at the frontier of a
discipline or area of professional practice
• engage in critical reflection, synthesis and evaluation
• develop, adapt and implement research methodologies to extend and
redefine existing knowledge or professional practice
• disseminate and promote new insights to peers and the community
• generate original knowledge and understanding to make a substan-
tial contribution to a discipline or area of professional practice. (ibid.,
s3.3.1)
For CQ01, delivery is rigidly specified during the design and commu-
nicated through a curriculum statement. While the term teaching is still
used, staff are more often called lecturers and tutors rather than teach-
ers. For a 12 hours per week unit, lectures and tutorials typically may
take 3–4 hours, while the remaining time is meant to be independent
102
learning—which may involve reading, assignment preparation etc.—

(Whether students devote that much time per week is debatable.) CD62
is less rigid. The students are called ‘Candidates’. Each candidate has
one or more supervisors with whom they are expected to interact regu-
larly. The university also offers a smorgasbord of training opportunities,
which are generally voluntary, not tied to credit points and not assessed.
Assessments are not popular with either teachers or students, but serve
a crucial role in both educational and engineering logics. Assessment
provides quality control. The difference in delivery between CQ01 and
CD62 can be characterised as that while CQ01 requires a fair degree of
independent learning, CD62 is far more towards self-directed learning.
In CQ01, assessment is regular—a unit may have two to three
in-term assignments or tests and a final exam, all of which contribute
to passing the unit and the final grade. Assessments typically have quan-
tified marking sheets. Assessments are typically written and graded by
the lecturer responsible teaching the unit. Assessments have a quantified
assessment rubric. With CD62, there are two formal assessments, the
CoC and the thesis. Neither of them is assessed by supervisors, but by
relatively independent reviewers.
The confirmation of candidature milestone is recognised as an impor-

tant opportunity to assess a candidate’s progress towards specific and
generic learning outcomes related to research, consistent with the Higher
Education Standards Framework (Thresholds Standards) 2015 (Cwlth).
Specifically, this includes:
• a detailed understanding of the specific topic of their research,

within a broad understanding of the field of research
• capacity to scope, design and conduct research projects independently
• technical research skills and competence in the application of
research methods, and
• skills in analysis, critical evaluation and reporting of research, and
in presentation, publication and dissemination of their research.
(CQUniversity, 2018, s3.9)
However, the CoC neither contributes to the final grade, nor is there a
requirement that the final thesis conform to the research objective and
103
Table 6.2 The logics of degrees

Coursework degree Research degree
(e.g. CQ01) (e.g. CD62)
Education logic Systematic learning Apprenticeship
Engineering logic Process Project
proposal. As such, while in CQ01, each assignment can be equated to

a specific proportion of the total 144 credit points, in CD62, all 144
points are assessed by the final thesis. The assessment for both the CoC
and thesis is qualitative.
In summary, while both CQ01 and CD62 require the same volume
of learning—144 credit points, the former demonstrates much stronger
implementation of instructional design principles. The learning objec-
tives, design, delivery and assessment are deconstructed to significant
detail to the point of quantification. Students are grouped and pro-
cessed in batches. While some instructional design elements do exist
in CD62, their level of deconstruction is much less. Each candidate,
apprenticed to a master scholar, is required to complete a unique project
to produce an acceptable thesis. The logics can be represented as four
quadrants (Table 6.2).
Design and Implementation of My Own Candidature
In commencing a project, a critical preliminary requirement is the

selection of a project methodology. For me, PRINCE2 (an acronym
for PRojects IN Controlled Environments) (Office of Government
Commerce, 2002) was the obvious choice. Developed by the UK gov-
ernment for use in its projects, it is widely used internationally. And
perhaps more importantly, it is a methodology I had been trained and
accredited in.
This chapter explores one central theme of the sophisticated
PRINCE2 methodology that I applied—that of product-based plan-
ning. The idea behind product-based planning is to focus on prod-
ucts—rather than activities or processes. A product must be a physical,
concrete object. One for which standards can be agreed, and whose
existence is unquestionable. For example, a ’significant, original
104
contribution’ is not a product, but a thesis is—a concrete object. A

major benefit of this approach is that it aids clarity and focus. The first
step of planning is to identify the final products of the project. This then
allows one to consider what must be done to achieve these products,
and these are in turn are interim products. For a Ph.D., the two critical
products are the thesis and its interim product, the CoC document.
A critical characteristic of products is the standard or quality to
which they must be built. Good practice is to develop and agree on
product standards early, as this aids efficient construction and final
acceptance. Typically, developing a product standard that is signed off
by customers or stakeholders is defined as an interim product. The
sign-off of product design or standards also marks an important shift in
accountability. Once signed off, then the onus on the project team is to
build it to the agreed time and budget. Proposed changes in specifica-
tion must go through change control where new budgets and schedules
are agreed. Product-based planning is, however, a concept that is some-
times hard for those steeped in other logics to appreciate.2
A characteristic of a good project planning is that interim (and per-
haps some final) products are delivered regularly and frequently during
the life of the project. The regular delivery of products ensures that pro-
ject progress is easily and reliably monitored. Perhaps more importantly,
the frequent delivery of products motivates and energises stakeholders.
After due consideration, I decided that I had two goals from the can-
didature: firstly (and most importantly) to learn to be a scholar,3 and
secondly to achieve a doctorate. The second is easier to analyse. A doc-
torate as a product can be defined as a document from an accredited
university certifying that I had been awarded a Ph.D.
PRINCE2 categorises products into two categories—specialist and
management. Specialist products are products that make up the final
2Product based planning enforces greater clarity and responsibility than process-based planning.
What needs to be produced must be unambiguously specified. Success is achieved with a concrete
output rather than time served.
3The term scholar isn’t used in the historical sense of a collector and preserver of knowledge:
rather more aligned to Boyer’s (1990) categorisation of scholarship into discovery, integration,
application or teaching. Eureka moments are both the epitome and elixir of scholarship.
105
deliverable(s). Management products are products used to manage the

project and its quality. The CD62 award requires the technical product,
an accepted thesis. As the process from the thesis to the award is quite
straightforward, it is simpler to treat the thesis as the dominant, final
product. Producing a thesis can, in turn, be analysed as requiring other
products, such as a CoC and regular reports to maintain candidature.
Depending on the research, other products can be identified, such as
ethics approval or the data that gives rise to the thesis conclusions.
The application of the logics of the PRINCE2 methodology to
CD62 leads to some interesting conclusions:
1. In principle, the CoC document combines both specialist and man-

agement elements. Elements such as the research question, meth-
odology and literature review feed into the thesis. The candidature
schedule and budget are management products. However, research is
by its very nature uncertain, and completion of the proposed work
may not result in a ‘significant original contribution’. A candidate
can change the research question and direction of the research, and in
practice this occurs regularly, sometimes several times during a candi-
dature. Universities manage these conflicting logics by not checking
the thesis to assess alignment with the CoC.
Therefore, the CoC may be viewed more as a test to ascertain that the
candidate has the knowledge and skills to complete a PhD than a for-
mal proposal that must be complied with.
2. As the thesis is not checked with the CoC, there is a tactical advan-
tage to overpromising in the CoC to ensure an easier passage of the
CoC (although the ethics of deliberately doing so is questionable).
On the other hand, project managers who deliver to agreed specifica-
tions try to negotiate the requirements down and over-deliver if pos-
sible. Furthermore, a common cognitive bias is the ‘planning fallacy’
(Kahneman & Tversky, 1977): the tendency for the person doing the
work to seriously underestimate the work and involved.
3. The principal standard of the thesis appears to be acceptance by the
examiners. There are high-level specifications in the AQF and the
course rules, but they don’t meet the clarity of standards that candi-
dates can confidently apply. Nor can candidates confidently expect
that examiners assessments are complete, normalised and reliable—
certainly not to the level provided by assessment in CQ01. This
106
uncertainty is felt not only by the candidate, but by the supervisors

themselves. This may lead to the goal of making the thesis as good
as the candidate is capable of. However, doing so runs the risk of
over-engineering (Oehmen & Rebentisch, 2010) the product but also
stress and trauma.
4. A traditional approach to projects is popularly called the ‘big-bang
approach’—a long project delivering a giant product. The big bang
approach suffers three principal drawbacks. Firstly, until the prod-
uct is delivered, the consumer doesn’t really know whether it is what
they want, at which time it is too late. Secondly, the long lead time
increases the risk of the project having errors that are not caught and
corrected in time to prevent costly corrections. Thirdly, those on the
project are inevitably going through a learning phase. Activities com-
pleted early in the project will be of poorer quality than later com-
ponents. Often, early stage products have proportionately greater
importance in product quality. Fourthly, the long wait for a useful
product may lead to a loss of stakeholder interest. CD62 (or any
Ph.D. by thesis) is a Big bang approach. There is a three-year gap
between the CoC and the thesis, with the three major phases of gath-
ering the data, analysis and book-length writing all rolled into a sin-
gle large product, the thesis.
Reframing my first goal as a product was more challenging. However,

after some thought, I decided that being a scholar could be specified as
achieving a number of peer-reviewed publications. Through applying a
PRINCE2 perspective, I made the following decisions:
1. In developing a schedule, the CoC and Thesis had major, exter-

nally set deadline and would provide the backbone of my schedule.
Individual papers would fill in voids.
2. For example, calls for contributions to a themed book, conference, or
journal issue were all opportunities to explore the theme.
3. Papers provided the opportunity for expanding my breath of schol-
arship. I would deliberately use them to expand my knowledge and
skills beyond that required for my thesis.
4. My initial goal was to get papers written, peer-reviewed and pub-
lished. As my skills developed, I would pay more attention to target-
ing higher-ranked journals. Not paying publication fees was an easy
way to avoid predatory journals and conserve my candidature budget.
107
Examining my candidature from an instructional design perspective

leads to the question of what my learning objectives for my candidature
should be: what knowledge and skills do I expect to have at the end of
the candidature? The first, rather obvious objective is to have the skills
to answer the research question. The Ph.D. is geared to achieve this. The
literature review builds knowledge of the research topic. Writing the
methodology section and using the methods during fieldwork builds
practical experience of the methodology. And the requirement for nov-
elty meant the candidate was learning at the frontiers of the discipline.
The development of the skills to answer the research questions occur
naturally during the candidature process. However, whether the skill
development occurs most efficiently depends largely on the candidate
and the supervisors.
A second, somewhat less obvious learning objective is that candi-
dates must be experts in learning. A Ph.D. is the culmination of twenty
years of learning. Yet the knowledge and skills of the science of learning
are never rigorously taught or assessed during the twenty years. Skills
in learning have a multiplier effect, easing the development of skills in
other disciplines. Skills in the science of learning are worth explicitly
focusing on and learning.
My pre-candidature knowledge of the discipline of Education
and my initial exploration of the science of learning left me with the
impression that it wasn’t yet a mature science—there was no substan-
tial, robust, widely accepted body of knowledge among scholars as in
physics and chemistry. We were however, on the verge ‘of an explo-
sion in knowledge about how to learn most effectively’ (Karpicke,
2014, p. xviii). A Eureka moment occurred when I came across a
popular book by engineering professor and polymath Barbara Oakley
(2014) and a subsequent Massive Open Online Course (MOOC) by
her and professor of computational neuroscience Terry Sejnowski
(2014). The MOOC, aptly named ‘Learning How to learn’ is (cur-
rently) the world’s most popular. I became convinced that the science
had matured sufficiently to be very useful. I delved into the science.
As my knowledge and analysis deepened, I published three papers,
each emerging from the previous one: ‘A Revolution in the Science of
Learning: Higher Education at the Crossroads’ (Somasundaram, 2017);
108
‘Paradigms from the Science of Learning: An Emerging Revolution in

Education’ (Somasundaram, 2018); and ‘Sustaining Competencies and
Employability: A Fishbone Model for Engineering Education to Fit the
Processes of Life’ (Somasundaram, Rasul, & Danaher, 2019).
From a pedagogical perspective, CD62 resembles the traditional
methods of teaching crafts. An individual enrols under the tutelage of
a master as an apprentice. After obtaining some skill in the craft, they
proceed to the stage of journeymen. If they wish to proceed to the posi-
tion of Master, they must produce a masterpiece of work. Or in the case
of the guild of scholars (or professoriate), a ‘discourse’—the origin of
the modern thesis:
The Doctors examined the Candidate, gave him license to ‘incept’ or give
his public probationary discourse, after which, if this further test was sat-
isfactorily passed, he was received into the Collegium or the Doctors of
Civil or Canon Law, as the case might be, being presented by an exist-
ing member in the presence of the rest with the insignia of his office.
(Rashdall, 1895, p. 150)
In applying both project management and instructional design, I erred

on the side of simplicity. Applying science calls for practicality and
economy. For example, in implementing PRINCE2, I minimised gov-
ernance and documentation guidelines. In implementing my learning
objectives, I did not establish a formal curriculum or set up an assess-
ment rubric. Both the science and I are emergent. We do not know
what we do not know.
Conclusion
Is teaching a science? Is research a craft? Can the teaching of research
be engineered? Should it be engineered? This chapter makes the case
that the undergraduate degree, CQ01, can be understood as an engi-
neered product, and proposes analogous methods for the doctoral
degree. Such an approach to education is, nevertheless, contested. This
is partly because the underpinning science is often not robust enough
109
to withstand scrutiny, partly because the known science is not robustly

applied and partly because different stakeholders view the system from
different perspectives—different logics.
Furthermore, CD62 is an idealised course. Other doctoral formats
exist, some with substantial coursework requirements, as well as the the-
sis by publication. Nonetheless, the pure research doctorate is consid-
ered the acme, ‘the gold standard’.
The Bentley is a crafted vehicle. The Corolla, even the Lexus, are
engineered. Is one superior to the other? By what criteria? Or is it our
thinking that makes it so?
In crafting my candidature, I sought to integrate both education
and engineering. Education can, and should, be an applied science.
And engineering, as a relatively mature applied science, has developed
methods that can inform education. My conclusion is that the tra-
ditional engineering logic and the education logic add to each other.
The integration that I seek (Somasundaram, Howard, & Reed, 2016)
is not the molecular dispersal found with sugar in water, but that of a
cloth that interweaves cotton and Spandex: “Harmonious but different”
(Confucius: Analects 13:23, Tran: Eno, 2018).
Can we build a highway to traverse—an easy mass transit system?
Can the knowledge and skills of a scholar be produced more easily?
Is one of the skills resilience? Can resilience be taught or only tested?
Should we build a highway? Part of the role of a guild is to limit supply,
to maintain prices that ensure the long-term survival of the profession.
But should knowledge and skills be rationed? Perhaps the purpose of
the Ph.D. is to produce more questions than answers.
Acknowledgements One purpose of citations is to honour the scholars who

have influenced the current work. But the body of knowledge that influenced
us is vast and integrated. The scholars whom we cite are but a patch of tapestry
that forms the culture and values of the community, the guild of scholars.
The editors of this book established a supported community of chapter
writers who encouraged and critiqued the chapters during their development.
CQUniversity’s public website was used to draw much of the material
used for this study. And, last but not least, Dave Somasundaram cheerfully
read and critiqued the multiple drafts of this chapter.
110
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Part II
Supervising the Doctorate
Marc Clarà
In the previous part of this book, diferent authors examined several

structural aspects that are crucial for the success and the quality of
the doctorate. Part II of the book delves into one of these aspects: the
supervision of the doctoral process. Supervision has been recurrently
identifed as the most infuential aspect of the development, quality and
success of doctoral education. On the one hand, the supervisor guides
the process; on the other, she provides the most important social struc-
ture of support to the doctoral candidate. Tus, when examining super-
vision it is useful to consider two aspects: frst, how the supervisor can
guide the process and develop her diverse roles in order to help the doc-
toral candidate to achieve success; second, how the relationship between
the supervisor and the doctoral candidate is built, grows and develops.
Tis part deals with the frst issue—that is, the supervisor’s guidance
and roles; the relationship between the supervisor and the doctoral can-
didate is examined in Part III.
Tis part of the book, devoted to the supervisor’s guidance and roles,
includes four chapters. In Chapter 7, González-Ocampo and Castelló
provide a review of the research conducted on doctoral supervision
between the years 2005 and 2016. In this review, the authors identify
116 Part II: Supervising the Doctorate
several research concerns that are important for doctoral supervision;

these include, among others, the defnition of the supervisor’s roles,
the articulation of co-supervision and the identifcation of supervisory
strategies to address several challenges of the doctoral journey, such as
writing and timely completion. Te other three chapters of this part
address some of these concerns. In Chapter 8, Press, Rossi, Graham
and Danaher examine the roles and conceptions of supervision. In
their autoethnographic study, which includes three supervisors and one
doctoral candidate, they identify three conceptions of supervision: as a
relational endeavour; as a pedagogical commitment; and as reciprocal
growth. In the frst conception, the supervisor is seen as a critical friend
and emotional support is emphasised; in the second, the supervisor is
seen as a guide for the doctoral candidate’s learning and success; in the
third, supervision is seen as a research collaboration with the doctoral
candidate. In Chapter 9, Tatebe addresses the issue of co-supervision.
In her self-study, the author shows how a strong team of co-supervisors
enabled the successful management of two changes in the lead super-
visor role. Tatebe argues that the way in which the supervisory team
addressed these changes not only permitted the timely completion
of the doctorate but also enriched and promoted the development of
the academic identity of the candidate. Finally, in Chapter 10, Martin
addresses the issue of academic writing. From a conception of super-
vision akin to the idea of “relational endeavour”, he proposes that pro-
ductivity may be dramatically improved, and procrastination reduced, if
doctoral candidates write regularly in short periods of time. Te author
describes how this strategy was introduced in his supervision, provides
some strategies to address the difculties in changing the candidates’
habits and examines the promising outcomes of this strategy.
In short, this part provides a picture of some of the main issues
regarding the supervision of the doctorate.
7
Research on Doctoral Supervision: What
We Have Learnt in the Last 10 Years
Gabriela González-Ocampo and
Montserrat Castelló Badia
Introduction
During the last decade, doctoral education has experienced an exponen-
tial growth. The rapid increase in the number and internationalisation
of doctoral students, the diversification of the structures of doctoral
programmes and the needs of the labour market have boosted impor-
tant changes in doctoral education processes (Boud & Tennant, 2006;
Enders & de Weert, 2004). Within this evolving research field, supervi-
sion has been one of the most discussed topics, owing to its critical role
G. González-Ocampo (*)
UPAEP University, Puebla, Mexico
e-mail: gabrielago@blanquerna.url.edu
M. C. Badia
Faculty of Psychology, Education and Sport Sciences,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_7
118
G. González-Ocampo and M. C. Badia
in supporting and steering the journeys of doctoral students (Malfroy,

2005; Martinsuo & Turkulainen, 2011; Vilkinas, 2008). Many of the
practices and outcomes of doctoral education are associated with the
way in which supervisory practices are conceptualised and developed
(McAlpine, 2013), and the way in which these practices are perceived
by doctoral students (Pyhältö, Vekkaila, & Keskinen, 2015).
In this chapter, we take a close look at the research on doctoral super-
vision that has been conducted between 2005 and 2016, in order to
capture an overall picture of the studies devoted to this subject. In the
light of this objective, we introduced a framework that integrates the
specific characteristics and research approaches of the reviewed studies.
We begin the chapter by describing the landscape of research on doc-
toral supervision. Then we describe our review study design by detailing
the different phases of the selection of the studies and their subsequent
analysis. Next we focus on the results related to the characteristics,
purposes and findings of the studies. Finally, we discuss the emerging
themes from the analysis of the reviewed studies, and we suggest what
we consider relevant issues for a future research agenda.
The Landscape of Research on Doctoral Supervision
Supervision has been shown to have an important influence, either

positive or negative, on students’ learning, progress and satisfaction
throughout the doctorate (Ives & Rowley, 2005; Overall, Deane, &
Peterson, 2011; Zhao, Golde, & McCormick, 2007), and it is deter-
minant in ensuring the completion of doctoral studies. Research has
demonstrated that supervision can act as an important mediator regard-
ing students’ relationship with the scholarly community (Pyhältö,
Vekkaila, & Keskinen, 2012) since it provides an enabling environment
for strengthening networking and doctoral students’ socialisation in
local and global researcher communities (Gardner, 2010).
Furthermore, the quality of supervision experiences has been related
with the development of research skills (Baker & Pifer, 2011; Overall
et al., 2011). Undoubtedly, examining experiences related to super-
vision can contribute to better understanding about how the doctoral
7 Research on Doctoral Supervision …
119
trajectory develops. Moreover, it can help deepen the understanding

about how both students and supervisors assume and handle the doc-
toral process.
Research has also been devoted to analysing the meaning of super-
visory work and variation in its conceptualisation. It has been defined
as a collective enterprise (Pyhältö et al., 2012) that implies institutional
responsibility (McAlpine, 2013) going beyond an individual practice.
Moreover, supervision as a relational process (Franke & Ardvisson, 2011)
integrates space in which learning, research and teaching are possible
(Kobayashi, Grout, & Rump, 2013; Murphy, Bain, & Conrad, 2007;
Turner, 2015).
This growth in research interest has also encompassed the publication
of a variety of reviews on particular aspects of supervision, such as the
appropriateness of traditional and alternative models of supervision in
addressing current research challenges (McCallin & Nayar, 2012), the
presence of interdisciplinary research supervision (Vanstone, Hibbert,
Kisella, Pitman, & Lingard, 2013), the relationship between supervi-
sion approaches and research conceptual frameworks and its impact on
research education (Bastalich, 2015), virtual supervision and its rela-
tionship with collaborative supervisory practices in virtual spaces (Maor,
Ensor, & Fraser, 2016), or supervisory styles and the factors involved in
their choice (Boehe, 2016).
The results from all of these reviews emphasise the variety of
approaches to research supervision and the meanings underlying the
notion of supervision and its associated practices. However, this diver-
sity may represent a challenge for researchers attempting to elucidate a
clear path of the contributions in the research devoted to the study of
this subject.
Our Study: Exploring Research on Doctoral Supervision
We conducted this review aiming to provide an account of the relation-

ship among the characteristics, purposes and results of the research con-
ducted on doctoral supervision during the last ten years.1 The following
research questions were addressed:
120
RQ1. What are the general characteristics—participants, disciplinary con-

text, country and methods—of the research conducted on supervision?
RQ2. What are the main purposes and associated findings of research on
doctoral supervision?
RQ3. What are the relationships between the purposes and methods of
research on supervision?
Moreover, this study attempts to enlarge and deepen our theoret-

ical and empirical knowledge on doctoral supervision conceptualis-
ation, practices and experiences and its implications for researcher
development.
We consider such a review necessary and useful for other researchers
to have a clearer portrait of what we know about supervision within
the doctoral research context. This clarity can also help in having a
more nuanced understanding of the implications and challenges that
research on supervision may involve. In what follows, we describe the
procedure followed to collect and analyse the studies included in the
review.
Method
Criteria for Relevance and Inclusion
Studies published between 2005 and 2016 across different countries

and all types of disciplines were considered for inclusion in the review,
provided they accomplished the following criteria: first, a study was
considered relevant if its main focus and aims were on advising and
supervision in doctoral education. Second, we only considered empiri-
cal studies published in journals indexed in the most well-known data-
bases (Web of Science and Scopus). We selected English as the language
of publication for pragmatic reasons including representativeness and
accessibility.
121
Search Terms and Databases
The literature search was conducted through the electronic Web of

Science and Scopus databases. The primary search keywords used were
supervision and advising, which were combined with the secondary
terms doctoral students and doctoral education. The combination resulted
in a total of 607 references, 94 for advising and 513 for supervision.
These references were loaded in Mendeley Desktop and screened to
eliminate duplicates (n = 225). Afterwards, the abstracts and conclu-
sions of the remaining documents were read to analyse whether they
fulfilled the aforementioned inclusion criteria. Based on this prelimi-
nary analysis, an important number of articles were excluded because
they focused on other themes different from supervision (n = 107),
because they were not empirical studies (n = 76) or because they
were conducted in other contexts different from doctoral education
(n = 131). The remaining 68 articles were included in the review.
Data Analysis
The analysis was conducted in three phases. In the first phase, articles
were iteratively read in depth and classified in a descriptive table, tak-
ing into account the following variables: (1) participants, (2) method
(data collection and data analysis), (3) research questions and (4) find-
ings. Information about the disciplinary fields and countries where the
studies were conducted was also included. This allowed us to answer
the first research question by having a general picture of the character-
istic of research on supervision and by mapping how the studies were
distributed. In the second phase, to address the second research ques-
tion, the purposes of the studies were established by means of grouping
research questions into thematic clusters, which, after being discussed
and refined, led to the establishment of emerging codes. These emerging
codes were discussed by a group of experienced researchers (n = 3) in
the field to validate the analysis and to define the final categories and
subcategories. The few doubtful cases were discussed until consensus
122
was reached. Finally, in the third phase, categories regarding purposes

were related to the methods used in different studies to seek a relation-
ship between these variables, according to our third research question.
The emerging relationships were clustered, discussed and revised by the
same group of experienced researchers who supported the purposes and
methods categorisation.
Results
The results are organised according to the three research questions.
Thus, first, an overview of the characteristics of the research on super-
vision and their distribution is presented. Second, we detail the results
regarding the purposes of the research on supervision, and finally,
we show the relationships between the purposes and findings of the
reviewed studies.
RQ1. What Are the General Characteristics

of the Research Conducted on Supervision?
Regarding participants, the majority of studies (27) focused on super-

visors, though students also had important participation (18). Almost
one-third of the studies (20) reported both supervisors and students as
participants, whereas few (2) selected doctoral programmes or universi-
ties and only one study included students, supervisors and doctoral pro-
grammes (see Table 7.1).
Table 7.1 Distribution of the type of participants

Variable Value Frequency Percentage
Type and role of Supervisors 27 39.7
participants Students and supervisors 20 29.4
Students 18 26.5
Programmes or universities 2 2.9
Students, supervisors and 1 1.5
programmes
Total 68 100
123
In relation to the disciplines, the studies mostly explored super-

vision in both science, technology and mathematics (STEM) and
humanities, arts and social sciences (HASS) (43), whereas an impor-
tant number (12) focused on STEM disciplines and only 5 reported
research exclusively on HASS disciplines. Some studies (8) did not
provide information regarding the disciplinary context. Regarding
countries, the majority of the studies conducted research in Australia
(24) and the UK (15), followed by the USA (8), Finland (5), Sweden
(3), New Zealand (3), Denmark (3), the Netherlands, Canada and
Singapore with the same number of studies (2) and Ireland (1) (see
Fig. 7.1).
Methods Used by the Reviewed Studies
We distinguished between the methods used for data collection and

those devoted to data analysis.
AU 24
UK 15
US 8
FI 5
SE 3
NZ 3
DK 3
SING 2
NL 2
CAN 2
IE 1
Fig. 7.1 Distribution of studies by countries

124
Data Collection
Five methods for collecting data were identified in the reviewed studies:
(a) interviews, (b) surveys, (c) written logs and narratives, (d) observa-
tions of interaction, and (e) document analysis. Among which, inter-
views appear to be the most utilised method (37), followed by surveys
(14). Further, the account of written material through reports, drafts,
feedback, notes, descriptions and autobiographies was also reported as
a method for collecting data (3), and a very similar number of stud-
ies (2) indicate that they applied observations of interaction by means
of recording sessions through video, audio or participant observation.
Only one study noted document analysis as the main method of data
collection. A significant number of studies reported the use of two or
more of the abovementioned methods (11), which points to an increas-
ing tendency for using a combination of methods. These results indicate
that interviews and surveys are viewed as the core methods for under-
taking research on doctoral supervision (see Table 7.2).
Data Analysis
The approaches to data analysis were classified considering whether they

used a qualitative, quantitative or mixed perspective. The qualitative
approach was found to be the most common approach (58), applying
specific techniques/methods such as content analysis, ethnography or
narratives.
Table 7.2 Distribution of the methods applied for data collection

Method Frequency Percentage
Interviews 37 54.4
Surveys 14 20.6
Written logs and narratives 3 4.4
Observations of interaction 2 2.9
Document analysis 1 1.5
Combination of methods 11 16.2
Total 68 100
125
The number of studies that conducted data analysis from a quantita-

tive approach was much smaller (5), similar to those using mixed-meth-
ods (5). Regarding the relationship between the procedures for data
collection and those used for data analysis, we observed that qualitative
studies tended to use more varied methods (e.g., interviews, surveys,
written logs and observations of interaction). In contrast, studies using
quantitative and mixed-methods of data analysis were mostly based on
surveys.
RQ2. What Are the Purposes

of Research on Supervision?
Three categories emerged from the analysis of the reviewed studies’

purposes, depending on whether they focused on (a) the analysis of
participants’ perceptions (those of supervisors, students or both) of
supervision; (b) the development and training processes of supervisors
as well as their pedagogical practices; and (c) the development of con-
ceptual or theoretical frameworks to explain models for supervision (see
Table 7.3).
Table 7.3 Purposes of research on supervision

Categories Definition Subcategories
Perceptions Studies aiming to explore Students’ perceptions
the conceptions, expe- Supervisors’ perceptions
riences and related out- Students’ and supervi-
comes of supervision sors’ perceptions
Pedagogy and develop- Studies aiming to exam- Strategies for supervising
ment of supervisors ine the pedagogical doctoral students
strategies and develop- Supervisors’ learning and
ment of supervisors development
Conceptual models Studies aiming to explore Development of concep-
and develop theoretical tual and theoretical
frameworks, conceptual frameworks
proposals and models
of supervision
126
Perceptions of Supervision
More than half of the studies (45) assigned to this category focused on
the analysis of doctoral students’ and supervisors’ perceptions regarding
conceptions, experiences and related outcomes of supervision.
Students’ Perceptions
An important number of studies on perceptions (17) focused on doc-

toral students. Among which, we found several studies aimed at exam-
ining how students perceive quality and satisfaction with supervision
(Barnes, Williams, & Staessen, 2012; Erichsen, Bolliger, & Halupa,
2014; Halbert, 2015; Löfström & Pyhältö, 2014; McAlpine &
Mackinnon, 2013; Soonga, Thi Tran, & Hoa Hiep, 2015; Zhao et al.,
2007). Large-scale studies were conducted to establish comparisons in
students’ supervision experiences across disciplines (Barnes et al., 2012;
Zhao et al., 2007). Conversely, small-scale studies examined perceptions
of the supervision process and how it changes at different stages of doc-
toral studies (McAlpine & Mackinnon, 2013) or is influenced by ethi-
cal issues (Löfström & Pyhältö, 2014).
Some studies were also devoted to the design and implementation
of instruments for collecting students’ feedback concerning super-
vision: the Questionnaire on Supervisor–Doctoral student Interaction
(QSDI) (Mainhard, van der Rijst, van Tartwijk, & Wubbels, 2009); and
Research Student Feedback Survey (RSFS) (Lee & McKenzie, 2011).
The manner in which students perceive the role of supervisors has
been the focus of several studies, which emphasised the relevance of
supervisory support in doctoral students’ experience (Bégin & Gérard,
2013; Devine & Hunter, 2016; Keefer, 2015; Lei & Hu, 2015; Platow,
2012), including the relationship of academic, personal support with
students’ perceived research self-efficacy (Overall et al., 2011).
Students’ perceptions with multiple supervisors reported the importance
of analysing the varied ways in which the supervisory relationship is devel-
oped, from a dyadic relationship to joint supervisory practices (Lahenius &
Ikavalko, 2014). To a lesser extent, students’ perceptions of the supervision
of doctoral writing were also examined (Odena & Burgess, 2015).
127
The results of the studies included in this sub-category mainly high-

lighted students’ challenges and difficulties related to supervision and
the importance of supervision in shaping doctoral students’ experiences.
They also denoted supervision as an important indicator for evaluating
the quality of doctoral programmes.
Supervisors’ Perceptions
A smaller group of studies (10) focused on analysing supervisors’ under-

standings of their supervisory role and related experiences.
A first group of studies in this category explored the activities and
responsibilities undertaken by supervisors to characterise their super-
visory role (Barnes & Austin, 2009; Bøgelund, 2015; Franke &
Ardvisson, 2011; Vilkinas, 2008; Wisker & Robinson, 2014) and their
own satisfaction with the supervisory relationship (Knox, Schlosser,
Pruitt, & Hill, 2006).
The feedback on writing provided by supervisors was also examined
to identify supervisors’ perceptions of the challenges that students face
when writing their thesis or in publishing (Bitchener, Basturkmen, &
East, 2010; Maher, Feldon, Timmerman, & Chao, 2014); other related
issues such as aspects that contribute to timely completion, from super-
visors’ perspective (Manathunga, 2007), and their role in the socialisa-
tion of doctoral students were also examined (Gardner, 2010).
In general, the findings from these studies showed the importance of
supervisors’ awareness of the activities and responsibilities embedded in
the supervisory role. In the same vein, they indicated the relevance of
understanding the challenges that supervisors face when they embark
on the doctoral journey as supervisors, with the ultimate goal of con-
tributing to the development of efficient supervisory practices.
Students’ and Supervisors’ Perceptions
The majority of studies about perceptions (18) focused on examining

perceptions of supervision, including the perspectives of both supervi-
sors and doctoral students.
128
A first group of studies was devoted to analysing specific issues,

such as the complexity of joint supervision (Kobayashi et al., 2013;
Olmos-López & Sunderland, 2016), group supervision (Fenge, 2012;
Hutchings, 2015), or cross-cultural supervision experiences (Grant &
McKinley, 2011; Manathunga, 2011; Winchester-Seeto et al., 2014).
The perceptions of both students and supervisors regarding the type
of interaction developed at different moments of the research career
(Sambrook, Stewart, & Roberts, 2008), the ethical challenges that they
face (Löfström & Pyhältö, 2015), satisfaction (Ives & Rowley, 2005)
and the mutual learning gained through the relationship (Lindén,
Ohlin, & Brodin, 2013) were also investigated.
A second group of studies was interested in transversal and general
issues of any supervisory process, such as students’ and supervisors’
understandings of research during the Ph.D. and the nature of the
supervisory process (Kandiko & Kinchin, 2012), power-related issues
(Doloriert, Sambrook, & Stewart, 2012; Hemer, 2012), and the emo-
tional management of students and supervisors (Doloriert et al., 2012).
Within this group, there was an interest in examining the fit between
students’ and supervisors’ perceptions, expectations about the super-
vision process (Moxham, Dwyer, & Reid-Searl, 2013) and the super-
visory tasks (Pyhältö et al., 2012, 2015), in addition to beliefs about
supervision and its relationship with teaching, learning and research
(Murphy et al., 2007).
The results from these studies offered a more comprehensive picture
of the varied educational implications of doctoral supervision by relat-
ing the perspectives of students and supervisors and largely showed how
both supervisors and students can benefit from clarifying expectations
regarding their roles and activities.
Pedagogy and the Development of Supervisors
Of the studies reviewed, 17 were included in this category and were

classified into two groups: (1) studies examining specific strategies for
supervising doctoral students and (2) studies exploring supervisors’
learning and development.
129
Strategies for Supervising Doctoral Students
Studies (8) that specifically aimed to analyse the supervision strategies

were mainly focused on examining adaptive support strategies (de Kleijn,
Meijer, Brekelmans, & Pilot, 2014), strategies for helping students
accomplish the purposes of doctoral studies (Akerlind & McAlpine,
2015), or strategies for creating supportive contexts that facilitate doc-
toral completion (Green & Bowden, 2012), creativity (Whitelock,
Faulkner, & Miell, 2008) and supporting doctoral students’ writing and
publication (Kamler, 2008).
Other studies examined the relationship among the content, inten-
tions and strategies of supervision (Bruce & Stoodley, 2013) or the rela-
tionships existing between the use of some group experiences, such
as research seminars (Malfroy, 2005) or joint supervision (Kobayashi,
Grout, & Rump, 2015), and learning.
Supervisors’ Learning and Development
An important number of studies (9) addressed supervisors’ learn-

ing and development to strengthen their role and enrich the doctoral
journey of students. Among which, those focused on examining super-
visors’ learning experiences in becoming supervisors (Guerin, Kerr, &
Green, 2015; Halse, 2011; Stephens, 2014; Turner, 2015) highlighted
the significant role of the past and current experiences of supervisors
in the construction of their identity as supervisors and the develop-
ment of their approaches to supervision. Two studies explored super-
visors’ learning experiences through group supervision programmes
(Emilsson & Jonhsson, 2007; Wisker & Claesson, 2013) and addressed
the challenges and benefits embedded in the implementation of supervi-
sor training programmes.
Specific aspects such as supervisors’ learning and development
through the examination of doctoral theses (Wisker & Kiley, 2014),
the use of collaborative reflective practice (Guerin & Green, 2013) or
political, social and educational demands (Kiley, 2011) in training pro-
grammes were also addressed.
130
The findings from these studies highlighted the pedagogical compo-

nent of supervision and revealed that supervision does not develop in a
vacuum but, rather, relies on the experiences, knowledge and skills that
shaped supervisors throughout their own doctoral journey. An impor-
tant number of studies recommended the need to train supervisors to
face the challenges that they will encounter when developing their role.
Development of Conceptual Models for Understanding

and Improving Doctoral Supervision
A small group of studies (6) aimed to increase knowledge on supervi-

sion through the development of conceptual models.
Some studies noted the varied connotations that can be attributed to
supervision in doctoral education (Lee & Green, 2009) and supervisory
styles (Gatfield, 2005). Others, based on how supervisors develop and
articulate their work, emphasised that supervision should be analysed
from a holistic perspective, including dimensions ranging from the indi-
vidual (supervisors) to the social (disciplines and institutions) (Halse &
Malfroy, 2010).
Three of the reviewed studies attempted to identify and explain the
approaches that guide the work of supervisors. Lee (2008) examined
conceptions of research supervision by interviewing supervisors about
their students’ experiences with supervision and their current super-
visory role. Her work aimed at relating supervisors’ activity, supervisors’
knowledge and skills and possible student reaction. In a subsequent study
(Lee & Murray, 2015), the authors sought to adapt the previous pro-
posal on approaches to research supervision to develop a model to super-
vise writing. Recently, Benmore (2016) has addressed the concept of
boundary management in the supervision process. This author places the
spotlight on exploring the roles and role transitions that occur within the
supervisory relationship.
The findings of the studies in this category showed the complexities
of conceptualising supervision, given that it requires identifying varied
aspects including beliefs, expectations, experiences, knowledge, strategies,
skills and disciplinary and institutional aspects that support and orientate
131
the implementation of supervision. Furthermore, the approaches and

models developed pointed to the dynamic and social nature of supervi-
sion, given that its development involves different participants and con-
texts (e.g., institutions, research teams, supervisors, students).
RQ3. What Are the Relationships Between the Purposes

and Methods of Research on Supervision?
We found the following relationships among the three established cat-

egories of research purposes and methods reported in the reviewed studies
(see Table 7.4):
1. Studies focused on perceptions performed the data collection process

mainly by using interviews, surveys, observations of interaction and
written logs. Interviews (22) and surveys (13) were the most com-
mon. Six studies in this category used a combination of two differ-
ent methods: interviews and surveys (Bitchener et al., 2010; Doloriert
et al., 2012; Olmos-López & Sunderland, 2016), interviews and
observations of interaction (Hemer, 2012; Kobayashi et al., 2013),
and interviews and written logs (Kandiko & Kinchin, 2012); only two
studies combined three methods (McAlpine & Mckinnon, 2013;
Hutchings, 2015). The great majority of the studies (35) were con-
ducted from a qualitative approach.
2. Studies focused on pedagogy and the development of supervisors used var-
ied methods of data collection (5), integrating the use of interviews,
surveys, observations of interaction, written logs and narratives, and doc-
umentary analysis. The tendency of these studies to apply a diverse
methodology for gathering data relies on the type of information
collected when exploring pedagogical aspects (e.g., strategies, activi-
ties, interaction, etc.). Interviews (9) and mixed-methods (3) were the
most common methods observed in this category. Differently, surveys
were less likely (1). We found 3 studies that included two or more
methods (Emilsson & Johnsson, 2007; Wisker & Claesson, 2013; de
Kleijn et al., 2014). Regarding the type of analysis, we only identified
qualitative procedures.
132
Table 7.4 Distribution of the studies based on their research purposes and
methods
Research purposes on supervision
Perceptions Pedagogy and Conceptual
development of models
supervisors
Data collection Interviews 22 9 6
Surveys 13 1 –
Observations of – 2 –
interaction
Written logs, 2 1 –
narratives and
autobiographi-
cal reports
Documentary – 1 –
analysis
Mixed-methods 8 3
Data analysis Qualitative 35 17 6
Quantitative 5 – –
Mixed-methods 5 – –
3. Studies focused on conceptual models involved the use of only inter-

views to gather data. They undertook data analysis from qualitative
approaches, which, according to their purposes, aimed at articulating
conceptual frameworks and clarifying theoretical aspects of doctoral
supervision.
Discussion
In this chapter, we reviewed a decade of research on supervision focus-
ing on research purposes, methodological approaches and consolidated
results. Our analysis established three categories of study purposes: (1)
perceptions, (2) pedagogy and the development of supervisor, and (3) con-
ceptual models. Consequently, we argued that these categories explain
the issues addressed by research on supervision over the past 10 years.
Regarding perceptions we identified the supervisory relationship
as a key topic of research. Studies focused on pedagogy and the devel-
opment of supervisors demonstrated a significant interest in the specific
133
pedagogical practices embedded in supervision and the development

of supervisors. Conceptual model studies focused on the development
of theoretical frameworks and orientations to analyse and explain
supervision.
The results regarding the methods applied showed that the follow-
ing data collection instruments are the most common: (1) interviews,
(2) surveys, (3) observations of interaction, (4) written logs and narratives
and (5) document analysis. Interviews and surveys appeared to be the
most commonly used methods. This result may be because they are
sufficiently flexible (structured, semi-structured and non-structured)
to adjust to the different types and amounts of information necessary
based on the research purposes. In addition, both methods are broadly
recognised across all disciplines. Data analysis is conducted mainly from
qualitative approaches, whereas quantitative and mixed-methods were
less likely to be noted in the reviewed studies.
Regarding disciplinary contexts, studies demonstrated a preference
for exploring supervision with participants from both HASS and STEM
disciplines. This may be due to two reasons; first, having participants
with different disciplinary backgrounds may offer a larger and more
diverse picture of the phenomenon studied; second, gathering a large
number of participants from a specific disciplinary context may be chal-
lenging, particularly for longitudinal studies.
Furthermore, we observed a relationship between countries and the
type of research on supervision. Studies from Finland, for example,
showed concerns for ethical aspects (Löfström & Pyhältö, 2014, 2015),
whereas research from countries such as Australia and New Zealand
analysed cross-cultural issues (Manathunga, 2011; Winchester-Seeto
et al., 2014; Wisker & Kiley, 2014). This result shows that research on
supervision aims to respond to the needs and demands related to the
cultural and educational particularities of countries. The results also
indicated the impact of cultural differences on the development of sat-
isfactory relationships between students and supervisors. Moreover, the
results emphasised the importance of examining supervision across dis-
ciplines, given that this process can be addressed differently according to
the disciplinary culture.
134
We also found that taking care of perceptions is essential for deepen-

ing the understanding of the conceptions, experiences and practices of
supervision. These results indicate that perceptions of supervision are an
important indicator for exploring the development of the doctoral pro-
cess and evaluating the quality of doctoral programmes.
Moreover, our findings revealed a consistent increase in publica-
tions on supervision from 2010 onwards. Indeed, we reported 15 arti-
cles between 2005 and 2009 versus 51 in the past 6 years, which clearly
positions supervision as a fruitful field for research on higher education.
Conclusion: Drawing a Research Agenda

This chapter has been written on the basis that current research on doc-
toral supervision is broad and diverse, which clearly indicates the need
for drawing a path that illustrates the investigation of and contributions
to this important topic. Studying supervision is significant because it
allows us to understand better one of the core experiences in doctoral
education: the relationship between the supervisor(s) and the doctoral
students. The experiences related to supervision lead much of the train-
ing process, research development and outcomes throughout the doc-
toral journey; moreover the impact of supervision can extend beyond
the doctoral stage as it constitutes an ongoing learning process.
Findings discussed in the chapter allowed us to draw those issues rele-
vant to a future research agenda in this area:
1. In general, the reviewed studies noted the relevance of promot-

ing the socialisation of doctoral students to favour their doctoral
research trajectories and their inclusion in disciplinary communities.
Nevertheless, studies focused on these issues are still scarce. In this
regard, we argue that exploring the role of supervisors in connecting
students with their disciplinary communities can offer helpful insights
to encourage both students and supervisors to navigate through it.
2. The results clearly indicated the importance of providing spaces and
resources to encourage the educational development of supervisors,
which indicates the need to encourage research on the development of
135
supervisors as a priority to improve the quality of doctoral education,

and as an opportunity to promote the career development of supervisors.
3. Moreover, because supervision is also influenced by institutional
practices, studies that include the perspectives of administrators can
also provide new understandings of the supervision process. This can
be particularly important for the promotion of supportive practices
addressed to supervisors.
4. The current evidence illustrates that assessing the impact of new supervi-
sor training may provide more insights for understanding the academic
transitions that new supervisors should navigate. Studies on this the-
matic can also contribute to evaluating the impact of supervisor devel-
opmental programmes, given that some studies indicated that these
programmes are becoming more common in the university context.
5. Furthermore, longitudinal studies that include the use of
mixed-methods also seem necessary to analyse further the interplay
among supervisors, students and their related developmental con-
texts. These studies can offer a broader portrait of the development of
the supervision process over time.
Acknowledgements This work was partially supported by the Spanish

Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness under the project “Researchers’
Identity Education in Social Sciences” [Ref: CSO2013-41108-R] and
by European Erasmus + Programme under the project “Researcher
Identity Development: Strengthening Science in Society Strategies” [Ref:
2017-1-ES01-KA203-038303].
Note
1. In this review, we opted to use the term supervision to refer to studies
on both supervision and advising. As is well known, the predominance
of these terms is based on the framing traditions developed in different
academic research contexts (with the term advising being more common
in the United States and supervision in Europe and Australia), but no dif-
ferences regarding their meaning can be found based on the terms used.
136
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8
Doctoral Supervision as a Relational
Endeavour, a Pedagogical Commitment
and Reciprocal Growth
Nona Press, Dolene Rossi, Coralie Graham
and Patrick Alan Danaher
Introduction
There is increasing academic and policy interest in the character and the
impact of experiences of doctoral supervision (Platow, 2012; Wisker &
Robinson, 2013). The success of such experiences is crucial not only to
doctoral students and their supervisors but also to a large number of
other stakeholders, including the participants in and the intended ben-
eficiaries of the students’ research, the students’ families, the students’
N. Press (*)
Queensland University of Technology, Kelvin Grove, QLD, Australia
e-mail: Nona.Press@qut.edu.au; Nona.Press@usq.edu.au
D. Rossi · P. A. Danaher
Central Queensland University, Rockhampton, QLD, Australia
e-mail: d.rossi@cqu.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_8
144
N. Press et al.
and the supervisors’ scholarly communities, the university research

administrators and leaders, and the broader society whose knowledge
and understandings might be enhanced by the research.
At the same time, it is clear that the experiences of doctoral supervision
are highly diverse (Jazvac-Martek, Chen, & McAlpine, 2011; Pearson,
Cumming, Evans, Macauley, & Ryland, 2011). Diversity is generally val-
ued as an environmental and sociocultural phenomenon, yet it is some-
times posited as being in tension with commonality (Bowser, Danaher, &
Somasudnaram, 2007). The relationship between diversity and quality in
doctoral supervision is also complex (Byrne, Jørgensen, & Loukkola, 2013).
Similarly, there are growing examples of collaborative reflections by
doctoral students and their supervisors on their experiences (Enengel
et al., 2012; Midgley, Henderson, & Danaher, 2010: Tyler & Danaher,
2010), whether during or after the students have graduated (Watts, 2013).
These reflections, while varied, in combination constitute a valuable con-
tribution to extending current understandings of the doctoral student–
supervisor/s relationships, and they help to evaluate the effects and the
effectiveness of doctoral experiences for students and supervisors alike.
This chapter presents a collaborative reflection on the phenomenon
of doctoral supervision by the first-named author, a part-time Doctor of
Philosophy candidate and a full-time and highly experienced academic,
and her three doctoral supervisors (two of whom work at the same uni-
versity where the candidate completed her doctorate, and the other is from
C. Graham · P. A. Danaher
e-mail: Coralie.Graham@usq.edu.au
P. A. Danaher
e-mail: Patrick.Danaher@usq.edu.au
8 Doctoral Supervision as a Relational …
145
the university where the candidate was employed previously). In the con-
struction of this reflection, a fusion of methodological lenses was utilised
in the study in order to bring together disparate methodological resources
that in combination can yield fresh insights and new understandings.
The authors’ shared and separate understandings of supervision
highlight the contextualised complexity attending doctoral students
and their supervisors, and accentuate the uniqueness of each supervi-
sory journey and the accompanying relationships. The methodological
approach used to elicit those understandings provides a practical yet rig-
orous way of rendering that journey and those relationships explicit and
visible, and therefore open to review and where appropriate enhance-
ment and growth. In this way, the understandings of this particular
supervisory team are intended to have significance beyond the team and
the institutions where their work is enacted.
The chapter consists of four sections:
• A combined literature review and conceptual framework

• The study’s research design
• Selected results and findings
• A concluding set of implications.
Literature Review and Conceptual Framework

There is a large and growing corpus of scholarship dedicated to enhanc-
ing understandings of the principles and practices of the effective supervi-
sion of doctoral students. This scholarship includes strategies for helping
doctoral students in their academic writing (Kamler & Thomson, 2014),
enacting varied types of supervision pedagogy (McCallin & Nayar, 2012),
understanding that supervision is an ongoing ontological process of
becoming a supervisor (Halse, 2011), evaluating group supervision as an
opportunity to provide an enriched learning environment through peer
learning (Fenge, 2012), accounting for the bodily and physical dimen-
sions of doctoral study (Hopwood & Paulson, 2012), creating a sup-
portive completion context for doctoral candidates (Green & Bowden,
2012) and assisting students to cultivate “doctoralness” in practice-based
students (Blass, Jasman, & Levy, 2012). According to one representative
146
N. Press et al.
and recent encapsulation of this literature, “effective doctoral supervision

involves supporting students to voice and act on their own ideas while
simultaneously providing guidance on how to complete research tasks”
(Overall, Deane, & Peterson, 2011, p. 791), while others urge “change
towards more research-informed institutional practices and policies”
(McAlpine & Amundsen 2012, p. 683) in doctoral supervision.
Conceptually, this chapter is positioned simultaneously as drawing
from the literature pertaining to doctoral students’ and their supervisors’
experiencing in multiple ways the phenomenon of doctoral supervi-
sion, and hopefully as contributing some new insights into the charac-
ter and significance of that phenomenon. For instance, in a well-known
study, Lee (2008) drew on interviews with doctoral supervisors in
diverse disciplines to elicit five conceptions of supervision: “functional”;
“enculturation”; “critical thinking”; “emancipation”; and “developing a
quality relationship” (p. 267). Furthermore, in their phenomenographic
research with 30 doctoral supervisors in Sweden, Franke and Arvidsson
(2011) identified “two supervision structures, called research practice-ori-
ented and research relation-oriented supervision ” (p. 7; emphasis in origi-
nal ). Similarly, Vehviläinen and Löfström (2016) distinguished between
“A traditional supervisory discourse…[and] “an aspiring process-orientated
dialogical supervision discourse” (n.p.; emphasis in original ) revealed in
the learning tasks of 44 Finnish doctoral supervisors. Finally, a phenom-
enographic analysis of interviews with 20 doctoral supervisors at three
Australian universities (Wright, Murray, & Geale, 2007) revealed five
conceptions of a doctoral supervisor: quality assurer; supportive guide;
researcher trainer; mentor; and knowledge enthusiast. The commonal-
ities and variations in understanding doctoral supervision that are dis-
tilled later in this chapter both articulate with, and extend on, these
conceptions of supervision existing in the current literature.
Research Design
We characterise the present study as a collaborative autoethnography
(Chang, Ngunjiri, & Hernandez, 2013) and, as this is also a case study
project, we subscribe to the idea posited by Stake (2008) of using the
147
case study approach not as a methodology but as a choice of what is

to be studied. In this case, the focus of the broader study was on our
understandings and experiences of supervision in our shared context of
doctoral supervision. We drew on a phenomenographic lens (Marton,
1986) to investigate the problem for this case: “What are the different
ways of understanding supervision and what are their implications for
the practice of doctoral supervision?” and, to guide our investigation,
we formulated the following research questions:
1. What do we mean by the idea of doctoral supervision?

2. How and in what ways do our conceptions of supervision reflect
our actions and influence our expectations as doctoral student and
supervisors?
Owing to space restrictions, we address in this chapter only our

response to the first question, and engagement with the second ques-
tion has been held over for future publications. However, consideration
of the methodological rigour of this study requires awareness of both
questions in this section of the chapter. These two research questions
were intentionally sequenced in order to investigate notions of individ-
ual identity and agency, and also notions of community, in a doctoral
supervision context. Methodologically, as illustrated in Fig. 8.1 (Press,
2017), the fusion of the phenomenographic and collaborative autoeth-
nographic approaches in this case added considerable richness to under-
standing the relationship between supervisors’ conceptions of doctoral
supervision on the one hand and their practices of doctoral supervision
on the other.
The first research question reflected a phenomenographic orienta-
tion, so as to reveal the different ways that each of us understood the
idea of doctoral supervision. As Marton (1986) explained, phenome-
nography is an approach to qualitative inquiry that investigates how
people experience, understand or conceive of a phenomenon or an
aspect of the world around them. Thus, a key feature of phenome-
nography is its focus on revealing categories of description that can
elicit referential and structural aspects of the different ways of under-
standing the phenomenon of interest. In the context of the present
148
N. Press et al.
Fig. 8.1 Methodological fusion in qualitative inquiry (Adapted from Press,

2017)
study, it paved the way for explicating the variations on meanings of

the idea of doctoral supervision through our narrations and interpre-
tations as participant-researchers (cf. Marton & Booth, 1997).
The nature of the second research question facilitated the interaction
between the phenomenographic and the collaborative autoethnographic
approaches, as it built upon the first question and directed the investi-
gation to deeper critical reflections on and close observations of social
practices and interactions. Collaborative autoethnography “focuses on
self-interrogation but does so collectively and cooperatively within a team
of researchers” (Chang et al., 2013, p. 17). Indeed, the processes for col-
laborative autoethnography enabled us to examine our individual and
collective understandings of doctoral supervision deeply and reflexively,
relating such understandings to the contexts in which doctoral supervision
occurs.
When combined, these two methodological approaches captured
and described our perceived realities in this bounded context and
149
acknowledged that, as participant-researchers, we had both subjective

and objective experiences of the phenomenon that were unique and/or
in common with one another (cf. Creswell, 2012). This methodological
fusion provided a practical yet rigorous way of rendering our percep-
tions and experiences of doctoral supervision visible to one another, as
well as to the readers of this chapter and/or those of future publications
about this study.
Research Context and Participants
The study explored not only the supervisors’ conceptions of doctoral

supervision but also the doctoral student’s conceptions of this phe-
nomenon. Three of the four authors formed part of the supervisory
team, while the first-named author was the doctoral candidate, stud-
ying part-time. As we noted above, the study was undertaken in two
multi-campus universities in Australia; the first-named author and two
of her supervisors worked at one university, and the other supervisor
worked at the first-named author’s previous university. As the first-
named author was undertaking education research in the nursing disci-
pline, the supervisory team was constituted by two distinct disciplinary
representations. Table 8.1 summarises our personal information as par-
ticipant-researchers, presented in the same order as that of the chapter
authors’ names.
Table 8.1 Study participants

Name (ID) Gender Discipline Years of experi- Years of expe-
ence as a Doctor rience as a
of Philosophy Higher Degree
candidate by Research
supervisor
Nona (A1) Female Education 5 0
Dolene (A2) Female Nursing/ 4 13
Midwifery
Coralie (A3) Female Nursing/ 7 6
Psychology
Patrick (A4) Male Education 9 17
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Method of Inquiry
Consistent with the constructivist tradition of qualitative inquiry, we

used narratives from interview data as our evidentiary base to capture
our individual conceptions of doctoral supervision and our personal
accounts of experiencing this phenomenon. We enlisted the assistance
of a critical friend to conduct the individual interviews with each of
us as participant-researchers. The interviews were semi-structured in
nature, with questions that were distinctively open-ended, and designed
to orient the interviewee towards the phenomenon of interest (Marton
& Pong, 2005). Each interview was conducted in the interviewer’s office
or over the telephone, and began with questions about the individual’s
background, then moved onto questions about concrete experiences of
supervision and what these experiences meant to the interviewee. These
questions prompted the interviewees to reflect upon and describe their
own perceptions of supervision as experienced, with the interviewees
influencing the flow of the interviews based on their interests and the
depth of the narratives. Each interview lasted for an hour and in total
the interviews generated nearly 17,000 words of transcripts, capturing
responses that provided reflective data, situated within the contextual
dimensions of the experience.
The interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed verbatim. Based
on a recursive process of inductive analysis, transcripts were read repeat-
edly and verified by each participant-researcher. Coding and analyses
were carried out using Google Docs to facilitate collaborative analyses
and interpretation. The first-named author led the process of phenom-
enographic analysis, which involved: reading and rereading transcripts
before, during and after coding; sorting into groups based on similar
themes/ideas as expressed in the experiences; reviewing the groupings;
describing the different conceptions of supervision; describing the
critical emphasis of each conception; and describing the relationships
among the variations. Throughout this process, member checking was
employed; each participant-researcher reviewed and validated the iden-
tified categories. Iterations occurred as a result of grouping and regroup-
ing themes until descriptions aligned fully with each grouping, and
categories of description were formulated.
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Reflexivity
We are cognisant of a possible concern highlighted by Chang et al. (2013)

that “…a study of one’s self lacks the possibility of demonstrating researcher
accountability during the research process because the researcher is also
the participant” (p. 21). However, engaging in this collaborative research
endeavour has in fact enriched our sense not only of accountability but also
of transparency as individual researchers and collectively as a research team.
Our research is necessarily framed by personal narratives where we reflect
upon our understanding of the phenomenon of interest for this investiga-
tion. It concerns our experiences of this phenomenon pertaining to various
personal and institutional expectations and constraints. Reflecting upon our
subjective views and understanding facilitates critical reflexivity as we engage
in autoethnography as a collaborative journey of exploration and learning.
The enactment of this research as a collaborative, autoethnographic
case study is akin to participating in a community of practice (Lave
& Wenger, 1991) where attending to collaborative activities, such as
refining the research design, formulating questions and enacting deci-
sion-making processes concerning analytical procedures, rendered such
activities transparent and members mutually accountable. In the course
of our attending to research matters as a team, particularly concerning
data collection, analysis and interpretation, and reporting of results and
findings, such tasks facilitated constant dialogue, reflection and reflex-
ivity (Creswell, 2012; Denzin & Lincoln, 2011). As Kenny, Harreveld
and Danaher (2016) explained, the need to be critically dialogic, self-fo-
cused and researcher-visible, among others, is an essential aspect of the
research processes in collaborative self-study.
Results and Findings

The results of the analysis are outlined below, with accompanying evi-
dence that guided the identification of categories of description and
the formulation of the outcome space. In phenomenographic study,
the conceptions or different ways of understanding the phenomenon
are usually represented in the form of categories of description. These
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categories of description are then analysed further to elicit the internal

relations among the conceptions, known as the outcome space. The cat-
egories of description and the outcome space constitute the results of a
phenomenographic study (Marton, 1986).
Ways of Understanding Doctoral Supervision
Phenomenographic analysis of how the participants spoke about doc-

toral supervision revealed three qualitatively different conceptions or
ways of understanding doctoral supervision. These categories were: rela-
tional endeavour; pedagogical commitment; and reciprocal growth. The
analysis revealed also that the participant-researchers have had diverse
understandings of the phenomenon under investigation that, as the evi-
dence suggests, were influenced by their more and less desirable experi-
ences as doctoral students themselves (a point that we will elaborate in
future publications). The findings in each category are described with
reference to the varying interpretations that the participants reported
of doctoral supervision across the three categories. Excerpts in the form
of illustrative quotations accompany each conception, which illumi-
nate the referential and structural aspects identified in the categories of
description.
Conception A: Doctoral Supervision as a Relational Endeavour
In this category, doctoral supervision was viewed as a relational endeav-

our. This conception of supervision emphasised interpersonal relations as
an important element of the doctoral journey, such as guiding, caring
and supporting, predicated on meaningful commitment and respectful
liaison among all parties. From this perspective, the supervisory rela-
tionship recognised the whole person as an individual, and promoted
collaborative and collegial partnerships that enabled the provision of
support and encouragement, as well as of continuous guidance. Thus,
this conception of supervision saw the supervisory role as acting as a
guide or a critical friend, whereby developing rapport and providing
emotional support were viewed as crucial. The dimension of variation in
153
this category brought into focus the diverse needs of the candidate, whose
doctoral journey requires a supportive and nurturing environment:
A3: Yeah, it’s more of – more mentoring than teaching. Yeah, I mean defi-
nitely as supervisors we share our expertise in whatever the area is,…and so
I guess there’s some kind of teaching in that respect, but, yeah, it is more
mentoring and guiding….Providing guidance about deadlines and all sorts
of stuff, and content, reading what the student produces and all that type
of stuff…being engaged in there with the student….I mean, recognising
that the person is not a machine, that they’re human underneath it, and
the particular student that I’m associate supervisor for has had some health
issues, and recognising that, although we do have constraints and that kind
of thing academically, that she’s still a person underneath all of that, and
it’s important to value her as a person in that process….I guess, yeah, just
engage with her as a person, not just a part of the university hierarchy….I
guess that’s where the relationship that we talked about right at the start is
different. I don’t know – not friends, I guess, but more of that peer collegial
[relationship], particularly as they get more through, I think they become
more collegial….Because it’s a lot more one on one – you probably get to
know the person and the relationships. There’s less hierarchy in that relation-
ship [so] that it’s more of a peer role rather than it being [teacher/student].
Conception B: Doctoral Supervision

as a Pedagogical Commitment
In this category, doctoral supervision was viewed as a pedagogical com-

mitment. The importance of providing educational guidance was empha-
sised, whereby the understanding of supervision was related to guiding
the candidate’s learning and development as a whole person, engaging
with her or him in learning about the research process and all its com-
plexities. This view was enacted within the supervisory role as being a
constructivist educator, challenging ideas, asking questions and stim-
ulating the candidate’s thinking, as well as augmenting self-efficacy. In
this category, the dimension of variation highlighted the candidate as a
learner at the centre of the experience, who required assistance to build
confidence and competence that facilitated her or his holistic develop-
ment as an autonomous researcher:
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A2: So there’s like the type of things that often have to be met, and the pro-
cedures and documents that have to be completed, the progress reports, for
example, so all those administrative things, they have to be completed. But
in terms of the actual journey, the student’s understanding of where they’re
going, and how they’re going to get there, I see that…in a way as their jour-
ney, although to start off with you may need to give a wee bit more support.
Like somebody learning how to ride a bike, where you have your hands on
the back of the bike, and then you let them go and catch them when they
fall off.….For me, my supervision tends to be more scaffold[ing], so, you
know, talking around topics, helping the student find their way and…ask-
ing questions, and being more of a guide than by dominance….I view the
PhD journey as a personal, individual journey. The person who is doing the
PhD, it’s their journey and it’s my job as supervisor to guide them through
the processes, and helping them get what they want out of that.
A1: My lived experience of supervision…is that…it’s like an encultura-

tion…into the discipline where your supervisors are affiliated….You’re
given the opportunity to grow with guidance. You’re given the opportunity
to interact with your community environment with the kind of tools that
will allow you to grow….So my learning about methodology, for example,
wherever that takes me, is very much situated; I am living it. But they’re
there to guide me, to challenge me, to question me….Because in this rela-
tionship feedback is the most important [element], coupled with guidance.
Conception C: Doctoral Supervision as Reciprocal Growth
In this category, doctoral supervision was viewed as reciprocal growth.

This conception of supervision emphasised the mutual learning opportuni-
ties pertaining to the cognitive and social dimensions of the doctoral jour-
ney. In assisting the development of the candidate towards becoming and
being a legitimate member of the research guild, processes facilitate the
reciprocal nature of the relationship so that both parties are exposed to
new ideas and learning possibilities in their discipline/s. Negotiations in
learning-to-research and/or teaching-to-research are interpreted as recip-
rocal, whereby sharing professional insights between supervisors–student,
student–supervisors and supervisor–supervisor transpires into reciprocal
learning within a community of researchers. In this way of conceiving
155
doctoral supervision, the dimension of variation accentuated the focus on

continuous growth while working together collaboratively as a team:
A4: There are formal responsibilities for students and supervisors that we
need to be very conscious of, and that sense of reciprocity and trust, and
that kind of thing. Again, I think it’s such an intensive thing, I don’t see
how you can get through it if that’s not there.….Certainly, when it works
well, there is a mutuality of interest and interests between the student and
the supervisors.…It does have an element of that sharing knowledge and
assisting. And I guess relating to that is I learn so much; I learn new ideas.
Sadly I don’t do anything like the professional reading that I should do,
whereas doctoral students are doing that reading, or they should be, and
[A1] certainly is. So that is a bit of a shortcut for me to find out new
areas of knowledge and so on, methodologies and concepts and so on….I
guess it’s a view of how we can work together, you know, in terms of these
roles that we’ve all got. For most people I think it’s there, that sense that
“We’re in this together”.…So for me that’s predicated among other values
on reciprocity – that we’re there to share, to learn from one another and
so on….And also, from the supervisors, thinking of ways that…references
might come through via the email, or opportunities. You might think,
“Oh, that’d be great. So and so has real expertise [in that area].” So it’s
also thinking of the student outside the relationship, and ways of mobi-
lising…reciprocity. Hopefully then students will see that that’s what their
supervisors are doing, and there is a sense that we are working together.
A2: I haven’t yet been involved with a student and not learned something
that helps….I’m a bit of a fanatic for learning, and learning things that
can be applied in other contexts. So, in assisting someone on their jour-
ney, then I always learn something. If it’s maybe a different perspective, or
a method, or a different theory, or a different conceptual framework, and
different analysis, or even the topic itself may not be my field, but I have
knowledge of the concepts. So either way at the end of the day I always
learn something.
A1: Because it’s also developmental for the supervisor….Your student
is ahead on the literature base for a start….And so it’s opening ideas for
the supervisor in a way that they would have to purposely do, but they
can’t do it all to the level that a PhD student would. And you’re reading
that….It gives you a brief to the developments in your discipline.
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Relationships Among Various Understandings
The three categories of description outlined above encapsulate different

aspects of the practices identified in the doctoral supervisory context of
the participant-researchers who co-authored this chapter. The results
of the analysis of the relationships among the categories of descrip-
tion yielded similarities and differences, and a hierarchical, increasingly
comprehensive understanding of doctoral supervision. These categories
of description and their internal relations make up the outcome space,
which is a way to view variations on understandings of doctoral super-
vision in a holistic fashion, through the structural relationships among
the categories.
Understanding doctoral supervision as a relational endeavour
(Conception A) had logical connections with Conceptions B and C.
Participants subscribing to Conception B focused intently on the edu-
cational aspects of the doctoral journey. Their pedagogical pursuit was
to assist the candidate to progress in the doctoral journey as a learned
researcher and, to do so, participants subscribing to Conception B
drew upon aspects of Conception A, recognising that the interpersonal
dimension equally plays a part in developing a whole person. Thus, it
was possible for participants with Conception B as their primary con-
ception to focus likewise on Conception A. On the other hand, par-
ticipants who ascribed to Conception A as their primary focus may
potentially focus on pastoral care and various functional aspects of
the doctoral journey—for example, by supporting the candidate to
meet her or his obligations at certain points during the candidature.
Participants who emphasised Conception C expressed their understand-
ing of Conceptions B and A as foundational and as working in combi-
nation with other aspects of the doctoral journey.
It is worth noting that, as the research data showed, some partic-
ipants employed more than one conception for a particular phenom-
enon. This is referred to in phenomenography as “inter-contextual
shifts” (Marton & Pong, 2005, p. 344), whereby some participants
shifted from one understanding of the phenomenon to another as they
addressed different questions. Marton and Pong (2005) explained that,
when intra-contextual shifts occur, it is difficult to ascribe a specific
157
Table 8.2 Summary of the referential and structural aspect of the conceptions
Category of description Referential aspect Structural aspect
Conception A Supervision is related to The focus is on the can-
Relational endeavour interpersonal relations. didate’s diverse needs.
Conception B Supervision is related to The focus is on the can-
Pedagogical commitment educational guidance. didate as a learner.
Conception C Supervision is related The focus is on continu-
Reciprocal growth to mutual learning ous growth.
opportunities.
conception to a particular participant. Notwithstanding this situa-

tion, the referential and structural aspects of the identified conceptions
emerged in the analysis, as summarised in Table 8.2.
Outcome Space
The authors found that understanding supervision as a relational

endeavour was a foundational conception across the categories of
description. A critical variation between understanding doctoral super-
vision as a pedagogical commitment and understanding doctoral super-
vision as a relational endeavour was the focus on the holistic development
of the candidate. From this perspective, the supervisors maintained a
relationship with their doctoral students that included being concerned
for the total wellbeing of the candidate and engaging in a thought-pro-
voking and stimulating academic discourse that enabled the candidate
to develop as a whole person. Thus, creating a positive climate with
appropriate support mechanism is fundamental to promoting positive
outcomes and the wellbeing of candidates. This critical variation is illus-
trated in the pictorial representation of the outcome space in Fig. 8.2.
Also illustrated in Fig. 8.2 is the critical variation between under-
standing doctoral supervision as reciprocal growth and understanding
such supervision as a pedagogical commitment. This critical variation
is the self-actualisation aspect of the doctoral journey. In this context,
the supervisors are engaged fully in a relationship that has the poten-
tial to become as fundamental to the personal development of the
candidate as that of the self-actualising supervisors. In the process of
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Fig. 8.2 Outcome space for categories of description in a hierarchical form
doctoral supervisory collaboration, the supervisors likewise open up the

process of actualising the candidate’s potentialities (cf. Maslow, 1970).
The quality of the relationship is therefore likely to be influenced sub-
stantially by the mutual motivational drives of the supervisor and the
candidate.
Implications and Conclusion

In this case study, the fusion of phenomenographic and collaborative
autoethnographic approaches has added considerable richness to the
authors’ identification of commonalities and variations in the concep-
tions of doctoral supervision within the supervisory team. It has also led
to a shared appreciation of how these conceptions are enacted within
supervisory practice (a point to be developed in future publications).
This outcome lends support to Franke and Arvidsson’s (2011) view
that qualitative analysis can serve as a tool and can contribute to the
159
awareness of what one does, tries to do and should achieve in relation

to supervision. What we see as the innovative research strategy utilised
here may be of value to others who wish to study their own teaching,
learning and/or supervisory practices.
It has been argued that conceptions of research serve as a frame of
reference for different kinds of decisions and actions taken during the
Doctor of Philosophy process (Meyer, Shanahan, & Laugksch, 2005).
The findings in this case reveal the extent to which this assertion is
applicable to conceptions of supervision and to the activities associated
with the process. The description and hierarchical illustration of con-
ceptions of supervision in this case may prove beneficial to research
supervisors seeking ways to structure their own supervisory practices.
The results of this study also illustrate the importance of acknowl-
edging different conceptions of supervision, and they demonstrate as
well that no one conception is better than another. Instead each con-
ceptual category was found to play an integral role in understanding,
conducting and evaluating the success of research supervision. In these
ways, the findings reported here both link with and build on the con-
ceptions of supervision taken earlier in the chapter from the scholarly
literature.
More broadly, and finally, the categories of description and the out-
come space elaborated in this chapter in response to the first research
question outlined above extend our current understandings of spe-
cific conceptual frameworks and methodological approaches that can
be effective in highlighting some of the appropriately diverse experi-
ences of doctoral students and their supervisors. We see the interplay
among these complex elements as crucial to enhancing and enriching
those experiences. We see also the methodological fusion (see also Press,
2017) applied in the chapter as a relevant and rigorous means of illus-
trating that interplay.
Acknowledgements We acknowledge with thanks the support that we received

from our critical friend Dr. Tara Newman, whose expertise and professionalism
in the research process enabled us to capture pertinent data. We appreciate also
the useful feedback provided by the peer reviewers of the chapter.
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N. Press et al.
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9
Shifting Players: Supervision Changes
During the Ph.D. Journey
Jennifer Tatebe
Introduction: The Departure

I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I learned
of the first change in my doctoral supervision team. It was a regular day.
I was sitting in front of my computer in the doctoral candidate office
when I felt a soft tap on my right shoulder. I turned and looked up to
see my lead supervisor standing silently beside me. “Can we chat?”, she
asked in an unusually tentative tone. I immediately knew that something
wasn’t quite right. Firstly, supervisors rarely came down to the doctoral
student offices. Secondly, my supervisor had a very serious expression
on her face. We exited the room and sat down on the black leather
couch in the front lobby. She looked at me for several moments before
speaking and then, in a soft, quiet tone, said, “So I’ve been meaning to
have a chat with you for some time now”. She explained how her other
J. Tatebe (*)
School of Critical Studies in Education,
University of Auckland, Auckland, New Zealand
e-mail: j.tatebe@auckland.ac.nz
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_9
166
J. Tatebe
leadership, professional, research and personal commitments required a

step back from all her doctoral supervisions. It was just over a year from
when I began my Ph.D.
In this chapter, I draw on my own Ph.D. narrative as data to examine
the personal, academic and policy implications associated with changes
in doctoral supervision. My experience informs the discussion and anal-
ysis of the complexities associated with changes in supervision encoun-
tered during my doctorate. Throughout the chapter, a team metaphor
is used to illustrate my view of supervision. The title of the chapter and
subheadings align with the team concept. While the Ph.D. journey is
often discussed as a solitary one, for me, the supervision changes that
I experienced confirmed the contrary. The guidance and support from
my team of supervisors were critical to the completion of my Ph.D. The
chapter begins with a brief overview of different perspectives of identity
theory as a means of understanding the complexities surrounding doc-
toral candidates’ identity development during their induction into the
academy. The next section explores the dissolution of a supervision rela-
tionship and its logistical impact on my Ph.D. journey. The “new team
logistics” section near the end of the chapter is where I write my super-
vision narrative in light of identity theory. It is here where I emphasise
the importance of a supervisor’s influence on the development of a doc-
toral candidate’s development of identity as a scholar and researcher.
The final section, “Going for the win”, describes the tenacity and deter-
mination that resulted in the timely completion of my Ph.D.
This is a deeply personal story. My intent of sharing this part of my
Ph.D. journey is to encourage others who may find themselves in the
same position that this situation that is rarely discussed does happen. I
hope this chapter encourages other doctoral candidates to keep moving
forward.
Literature and Theory: Cultivating Identity

Echoing the words of the late critical theorist Jean Anyon (2009), the-
ory powerfully engages us with our research, and extends our views of
the world and ourselves as researchers. In this chapter, identity theory
9 Shifting Players: Supervision Changes During the Ph.D. Journey
167
offers a valuable perspective from which to examine and understand

how changes in supervision influence a doctoral candidate’s devel-
opment as a scholar, researcher and active participant in the academy.
While multiple definitions and understandings of identity theory exist
across a range of disciplines, my Ph.D. narrative best aligns with a
sociological approach that recognizes the complexity of identity devel-
opment (Torres, Jones, & Renn, 2009). The work of Sweitzer (2009),
Colbeck (2008), and McAlpine, Jazvac-Martek, and Hopwood (2009)
are particularly useful in understanding how my self-perception of a
scholar was shaped by multiple forces.
Anyon’s emphasis on theory as a means of illuminating and extend-
ing our understanding of ourselves as researchers and scholars resonates
with the multiple changes in supervisor that are written into my Ph.D.
journey. Swietzer’s (2009) research signals the importance of socializa-
tion and learning orientation on doctoral student development. More
specifically, initial socialization and induction into new academic and
professional communities by peers and faculty members emerged as
key factors mentoring emerging scholars. Sweitzer’s (2009) “Perceiving
Fit” professional identity development model is particularly useful in
understanding the immediate loss of my supervisor’s departure. Sweitzer
developed the term “Perceiving Fit” to describe participants who iden-
tified as academics, and envisioned an academic career for themselves
upon completion of their Ph.D. Her analysis of interview data indi-
cates that “Perceiving Fit” participants formed relationships with sim-
ilarly focussed “academic career” track individuals. My supervisors
were highly regarded and deeply embedded in multiple academic net-
works. Further, they used their position to offer her students oppor-
tunities to attend conferences, gain access to postgraduate teaching
and research related employment. Changes in supervision had imme-
diate and extended consequences. In addition to the loss of esteemed
academic role models these changes translated into a potential loss of
access to academic and professional networks within Faculty, national
and international networks, and the availability of teaching and research
employment. Changes in supervision taught me the lesson about the
far-reaching influence of supervisors on an emerging scholar’s profes-
sional and academic identity development.
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J. Tatebe
Colbeck (2008) also explores the theme of academic identity devel-

opment. She argues that doctoral candidates’ professional identity
development as a scholar is an essential aspect of the Ph.D. Colbeck’s
research signals how doctorates learn the knowledge, skills and culture
of their professional community of practice. She explains how iden-
tity is connected to roles that “convey meanings and expectations for
behavior that have evolved from countless interactions among people
in a social system” (p. 10). Particularly informative is Colbeck’s discus-
sion of multiple identities where she unpacks the challenges associated
with often conflicting professional identities of scholars: as research-
ers, teachers, and service providers. Colbeck resolves the complexity of
multiple identities by advancing the concept of “integrated identities”
(p. 13). This view advocates for professional development and faculty
guidance to support the synthesis of all three traditional faculty respon-
sibilities thereby “reprofessionalizing” academic work (p. 14). In my first
supervision meeting we discussed my career goals, which did not waiver
throughout my doctorate. I was then advised to apply for Graduate
Teaching Assistant work and Research Assistant positions, and encour-
aged me to take on a variety of service roles throughout my Ph.D.
I realize now that my supervisors were inducting me into an academic
career from the very beginning of my doctoral journey.
McAlpine et al. (2009) employ a slightly different approach to the
issue of doctoral professional identity development. They report on
research that investigates how Ph.D. candidates describe their sense
of belonging to various academic communities. Drawing on data from
research-intensive universities in Canada and the UK, McAlpine and
her colleagues explain how participants experience and develop their
academic identity. Study findings alert us to the complexity created by
tensions between academic work, and career and personal goals. This
study illustrates the importance of particular events such as formal aca-
demic work, and semi-formal activities such as workshops and informal
conversations with peers and faculty contribute to doctorates’ sense of
belonging to an academic community. A deeper analysis of their sur-
vey data identifies the strong influence of peers, faculty (supervisors and
committee members), and outside experts in developing a professional
169
academic identity. The authors’ final conclusions suggest the importance

of everyday activities with peers and faculty as integral to the develop-
ment of doctoral candidates’ academic identity. McAlpine et al. (2009)
study offers insight into my understanding of the academic and personal
challenges I encountered as part of numerous changes in supervision
during my doctorate. Upon reflection, I have come to understand that
the subtle ways my supervisors had been introducing me to the on-going
balancing act of being an academic which fostered my sense of belong-
ing to the academic community. The informal conversations with my
supervisors and other academic staff, and postgraduate students around
the Faculty, before and after workshops, and at research events were part
of the “unofficial” methods of being inducted into a community of prac-
tice. Observing my supervisor’s active engagement in teaching, research
and service roles encouraged me to envision myself in an academic
career and subsequently allowed me to feel a sense of belonging to it.
Methodology: A Critical Self-Reflection

In a thesis, the role as a researcher must be considered. One’s identity
both informs yet is also shaped by the research (Thomson & Gunter,
2011; Smith, 2009). This scholarship forms part of wider identity pol-
itics discussions which often problematize issues of race (Leonardo,
2009; Sleeter, 2012), class (Rothstein, 2013; Thrupp, 2007), power
(Giampapa, 2011), and sexuality (Allen, 2010). Doctoral candidates
are encouraged to think reflexively about their identity and related posi-
tioning in their research (Risager & Dervin, 2015). I was acutely aware
of multiple identities and power relations in my doctoral study; how-
ever, understanding my Ph.D. experience for this chapter required a dif-
ferent level of self-reflection about my identity. As an emerging scholar,
my doctoral experience was significantly shaped by the strong influence
of my supervisors, my Faculty and wider institutional policies. For the
purpose of this chapter, I employ self-study and narrative inquiry as
analytic tools to examine the complexities of my doctoral journey.
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J. Tatebe
Self-study, or the systematic examination of one’s own practice, has

gained increased use in education and teacher education as a means
of qualitative inquiry (Milner, 2007). In educational research, self-
study has been embraced as a means of exploring one’s practice, with
an explicit orientation towards improvement of teaching and learn-
ing (LaBoskey, 2004). The development of a Special Interest Group at
the American Educational Research Association in 1992 illustrates its
recognition within the educational research community (Bullough &
Pinnegar, 2001). By definition, self-study requires a deep sense of crit-
ical self-reflection (Dinkelman, 2003). In Milner’s words (2007) this
self-reflective process demands “individuals [to] engage in deep levels of
introspection to come to terms with both conscious and unconscious
phenomena and experiences” (p. 585). Multiple changes in supervision
demanded periods of critical self-reflection about the logistics and prac-
ticalities of completing my Ph.D.
Narrative inquiry is another valuable qualitative method in my
self-reflective process. Similar to self-study, educational researchers
have engaged with narrative enquiry as a means of entangling the com-
plexities of teaching and learning from multiple perspectives (McVee,
2004). As Webster and Mertova (2007) explain, the use of narratives
is set within the human experience and can offer valuable insight into
how individuals experience and make sense of their lives. As Pinnegar
and Daynes (2007) suggest, in my case, the narrative is my own story
of multiple changes of supervision and thus the narrative is both my
“method and phenomena of study” (p. 5). I documented my changes
in supervision by journaling, in the form of detailed supervision meet-
ing notes, memos and by the formal University paperwork associated
with changing supervisors. It is important to note that my journaling at
the time was not meant as research or the purpose of this chapter, but
rather as a therapeutic way of making sense of the events at the time.
Often my journal and supervision notes contained my thoughts and
feelings about the situational challenges of supervision. Regardless of
intent, upon reflecting these sources of “data” documented the tensions
associated with the changes in my supervision team.
171
Discussion: Unravelling Team Dynamics

My first change in supervision seems like a different life time away.
Today, we fondly joke about the incident as the “break-up”. I wasn’t
expecting it, but I felt an immediate sense of loss. To be honest, I was
devastated. A wave of panic rushed through me. I became overwhelmed
by doubt and negative self-reflection. Did I say something wrong? Was
I under-performing? Or worse yet, did my supervisor think I was not
“good” enough or capable of completing my Ph.D.? After being con-
sumed with the personal impact of the “break up” for a few minutes,
I began to ask questions about the academic impact of this change in
supervision. Questions such as, who will be my lead supervisor? Who
else has her level of expertise? How will this impact my research? Who
can I seek guidance from? They seem silly questions now, but at the
moment they felt important.
New Team Logistics

My exiting supervisor had a plan in place. My co-supervisor became my
lead supervisor and a newly appointed Associate Professor returning to
academia from a policy position would join my supervision team in a
couple of months. I was nervous and apprehensive, to say the least…
who was this new supervisor? I didn’t know anything about her, and
I didn’t have a say in her appointment as my new co-supervisor. The
change in supervision signalled an inevitable shift in my doctoral jour-
ney. My co-supervisor and I were propelled into unknown territory. It
was a bit worrisome. Would it all work out?
Academic and Research Time-Out

Of significance were several research and academic delays that accom-
panied my changes in supervision. My first priority was to ensure all
research documents were amended as quickly as possible. As my
study required ethics approval from several institutions, necessary
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J. Tatebe
amendments were immediately submitted. Participating institutions

were also informed of this change in supervision as my exiting supervi-
sor’s name was listed on all research documents (participant information
sheets and consent forms). Ethics amendments and institutional partic-
ipation approval were quickly received, and all subsequent research doc-
uments were subsequently revised allowing my fieldwork to continue.
My former supervisor’s planning and on-going advisement, combined
with prompt action, can be credited for a very minor suspension in
research work. A similar short delay in data analysis occurred to allow
for the new supervision team and me to meet and develop a research
plan.
Internally, there were numerous policy implications associated with
this change in supervisors. While administrative in nature they reveal
how doctoral space is governed by policy—and, to a certain extent,
bureaucracy. For a short time while in transition, I was officially with-
out a lead supervisor. This triggered a series of forms, reports and
emails. I received, for the second time, all formal doctoral guidelines
and policies offering advice on enrolment, and information about
“getting started” designed for new doctoral candidates. I also received
formal university policy documents such as guidelines on supervision,
progression requirements and information packages about university
health and safety regulations while collecting fieldwork, seeking ethics
approval, intellectual property and copyright and funding and travel
policies. Everyday implications of this change in supervision were also
felt immediately. Library and photocopy accounts; and security and
access cards were temporarily placed on hold. Additionally, all forms
and reimbursements were unable to be processed. The policies gov-
erning doctoral supervision, progression, and fieldwork reinforced the
central role of the lead supervisor. At my institution, doctoral can-
didates are “attached’ to their supervisors. A candidate’s department,
allocated workspace, and access to specific resources follow a supervi-
sor’s placement and role in a particular school and/or research centre.
In my experience, the policy aligning doctoral candidates with super-
visors can significantly influence access to funding, teaching, research
and other academic opportunities. Although I was largely unaware of
it at the time, my supervisors were enacting Colbeck’s (2008) definition
173
of academic identity development. They were modelling how to effec-

tively respond to the ever-changing culture of academia. By guiding me
through the institutional policies of changes in supervision they were
initiating me into my desired community of practice. I was learning
how change and administrative tasks are on-going aspects in academic
life.
Shifting Players and Team Bonding

In my view, the loss of a mentor was the most critical outcome of the
change in supervision. A strong relationship with my exiting supervisor
gave me faith that her foreword planning and selection of a new super-
visor would see me through to graduation. I also drew strength from
my family and friends. The abrupt change also made me more resolute
to complete my Ph.D. journey. Like all relationships, the supervisor–
supervisee dynamic takes time to develop. Learning each other’s pref-
erences in style, writing and expectations is a reciprocal process. After
just over a year, the professional relationship that was so familiar became
so uncomfortably “new”. Our initial team meeting was awkward…but
really, where do you begin? We started with an overview of the research.
All my initial fears and hesitations were soon alleviated. My new super-
visor came with a fresh perspective, which was invaluable to the research
and the team. I was relieved that from the start, it felt like a good “fit”.
However, what I had overlooked was the adjustment for the entire
supervision team. My co-supervisor had accepted the additional
responsibilities of a lead supervisor. She too had to adjust to numer-
ous “unknowns”, and had to put in the time and effort to foster a new
co-supervisor relationship. I will always be grateful for her willingness to
take on a new role, and for her support throughout the transition. Only
near the end of my Ph.D. did I understand more fully that we shared
the same set of emotions and sense of loss of a great supervisor and col-
league. Our case had a happy ending in that we both gained an equally
inspirational academic and teammate.
My second change in supervision came within the last six months of
my doctorate. Again the lead supervisor with whom I had worked for
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J. Tatebe
nearly four years decided, for personal reasons, to step down from the
supervision team. This second change in supervision hit me harder than
the first. I felt absolutely demoralized. Again? How could I be in the
same place for a second time? Academically, I was terrified. My inter-
nal dialogue consisted of one question—“would I ever finish?” However
faint during these dark moments, another little voice kept saying,
“you’re so close”. It was my drive to finish my Ph.D. that pulled me out
of a couple of days feeling sorry for myself. I was going to hand-in on
time.
Nearly the exact same processes began all over again. My co-
supervisor became the lead and a new supervisor with whom I already
had an established professional relationship with came onto the super-
vision team. The second time around I had a voice in selecting my new
incoming co-supervisor. My lead supervisor approached me with a cou-
ple of names and we decided on a co-supervisor together. While the
timing near the end of the Ph.D. was initially a concern, the addition
of a new scholar with fresh eyes was helpful in pointing out areas to be
strengthened that we, as individuals very close to the research, had over-
looked. Her role as an experienced editor was also helpful as grammar
and referencing are not my favourite aspects of the writing process.
Again, my departing and new supervisors all maintained a high level
of professionalism during this second transition. My journal entries in
particular confirmed McAlpine et al. (2009) research on doctoral can-
didates’ sense of belonging. My academic identity was so closely aligned
with that of my supervisors. Upon reflection, it is not that surprising.
Consider how many times Ph.D. candidates get asked, “who are your
supervisors?” Or “who are you working with?” These questions are com-
monplace both within and external to your own institution. In some
way, any variation to such questions denote the impact of a supervisor
on doctoral candidates’ academic identities, research interests and meth-
odological perspectives. Those asking the question are, in fact, using a
supervisor as a means of “placing” a doctoral candidate. A supervisor
therefore is part of a Ph.D. candidate’s identity within academic and
professional communities of practice.
175
Conclusion: Going for the Win

In relation to this chapter, identity theory helps to explain and under-
stand my feelings of loss and concerns about my development as a
scholar in response to changes in supervision during my doctorate.
I draw three important conclusions from the studies discussed above.
Firstly, albeit in slightly varied ways, each study identifies the Ph.D. as
an induction into the academic community. Secondly, the prior research
included here establishes the significant influence of academic peers,
faculty members and supervisors as guides and mentors in an emerg-
ing scholar’s development. Finally, the research suggests the complexity
of a doctoral candidate’s development as a scholar and researcher and
engagement in academic and community service.
By sharing my story, I hope to offer others undergoing changes in
supervision a means of making sense of their experience. I would have
greatly appreciated a similar resource as I struggled to find literature
on this topic. I also found myself alone in my doctoral community
through this part of my Ph.D. journey. Despite the policy, logistical and
personal challenges that I encountered, I wish to underscore the posi-
tive outcomes of a change in supervision during a doctorate. First and
foremost, having the guidance of multiple experts is a privilege. It was
also beneficial to see different styles of supervision and writing, and to
be exposed to different professional networks. I completed my Ph.D.
on time with two changes in supervision. I make this statement with a
great sense of pride and triumph. The light is at the end of the tunnel—
no matter what, you will finish your Ph.D. Above all else, my two
changes in supervision confirmed the importance of having a strong
team of mentors to support and guide you through the doctorate. My
four-strong team of supervisors got me over the finish line.
I am pleased to report that I have maintained strong professional
relationships with all four supervisors. Some are now writing part-
ners, others I work with as colleagues at the university, and all I deeply
respect and admire as scholars and just “good people”. Final words of
wisdom, you ask? My advice to others in the same position is to be open
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J. Tatebe
to change as well as you can, to discuss with your exiting supervisor a

succession plan and to communicate with your remaining supervisor
about your needs through the transition period. Communication is
key—take control of your doctorate and make it happen.
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10
Writing Regularly
as a Thesis-Completion Strategy
Brian Martin
Introduction
In 2008, I had been supervising Ph.D. students for 20 years when I
happened on a short book by Tara Gray (2005/2015) entitled Publish &
Flourish. This led me to change my approach considerably. In supervis-
ing, I now focus more on the process of doing research, especially writ-
ing, and less on the content. The results have been positive.
First a bit of background. I am a social scientist, with a wide range of
interests, and have supervised students on topics such as organic agri-
culture, science journalism, controversies over schizophrenia and public
participation in local government. Most of my students have been in
their 30s, 40s or 50s, and only a few have been primarily focused on an
academic career.
Initially, my approach to supervision was fairly conventional. It
involved helping students to choose and refine their topics, suggesting
B. Martin (*)
University of Wollongong, Wollongong, NSW, Australia
e-mail: bmartin@uow.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_10
180
B. Martin
directions for investigating theory and collecting data, encouraging

writing and giving feedback on drafts. I learned some obvious things,
including that each student is different, and that there are some stand-
ard problems. A few students are highly organised and disciplined, and
produce excellent draft chapters on schedule, but most experience peri-
odic crises. For mature students, there are challenges of making money,
rearing children and handling health and relationship problems. For
writing their theses, though, the more serious obstacles were usually
psychological, including low confidence and excessive perfectionism.
Seldom did intellectual skills pose a serious limitation to progress.
After supervising for a number of years, I came to the conclusion that
my role as supporter and encourager was usually more important than
my role as intellectual guide. Most of my students were quite capable
of doing the research, as long as they had the time and opportunities
to apply themselves to doing it, so I tried to give plenty of encourage-
ment for what they were doing well. Research shows that most people
respond much more strongly to negatives than positives (Baumeister,
Bratslavsky, Finkenauer, & Vohs, 2001); to counteract this tendency, it
is important to accentuate positives. In teaching a class, hostile feedback
from a couple of students will preoccupy a teacher more than positive
comments from the majority. Similarly, annotating a draft thesis chapter
with lots of criticisms and red ink may not be the best way to encourage
better work, if it undermines confidence.
Another lesson was that there are exceptions to any rule. One or two
students loved rigorous critical comment, and a few needed pressure
more than encouragement.
The Writing Programme

In this context, I was inspired by Gray’s book Publish & Flourish, which
offers a 12-step plan to becoming a prolific scholar with the core being
writing nearly every day. She built her plan on research carried out
by a number of scholars, especially Robert Boice, a psychologist and
educational researcher, and has carried out her own research (e.g., Gray,
Madson, & Jackson, 2018). I obtained Boice’s publications, including
181
several books (Boice, 1990, 2000) and articles (e.g., Boice, 1984), and
contemplated their implications.
Boice, in the 1980s, observed new academics in the US, just starting
out in their careers after their first appointments. He noticed that most
struggled with the challenges of full-time teaching plus expectations to
conduct a research programme and contribute to service, and research
usually suffered the most. However, a few new academics seemed to
find things much easier: it seemed they could be quite productive with-
out as much stress as their colleagues.
What did these productive junior academics do differently than their
colleagues? Boice extracted from his observations a key characteristic:
they carried out their work bit by bit, over a period of time.
The usual approach undertaken by students and academics is to pro-
crastinate and then, when a deadline approaches, put in long hours
until the task is done. Lectures are prepared in lengthy sessions, often
not long before they are delivered. Productive junior academics, in con-
trast, would start planning a lecture weeks or months in advance, maybe
spending just five minutes jotting down some ideas one day, coming
back to it another day and adding some more thoughts.
My interest was more in research than teaching. The usual approach,
as spelled out by Boice, is to find big blocks of time, at least sev-
eral hours, preferably an entire day or week, before beginning. Often,
research is restricted to one day per week, or postponed until teaching is
over or until a study-leave period. Procrastination is standard, especially
when writing is concerned. A common refrain is that “I need to read
more first.” One of my students delved into one theory after another,
always reading more, seemingly to avoid writing a basic background
chapter.
When deadlines loom, writing begins, in a process called bingeing.
One student I met said she would postpone writing but then, when she
started, she would write every available moment—in between her fam-
ily responsibilities—for weeks, until she physically collapsed. Then she
couldn’t write for months.
Boice recommended a very different approach, involving brief ses-
sions nearly every day. In essence, it is a philosophy of moderation,
having affinities with Buddhism. The key obstacle for many writers
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is getting started. Once beginning to write, it is easy to keep going.

However, binge sessions are damaging, because they feel agonising
and not to be repeated soon. Therefore, Boice advised stopping after a
relatively short time. One chapter in his book Advice for New Faculty
Members is titled “Stop.”
The idea in this approach is to turn writing into an ordinary daily
routine rather than as a dreaded, onerous task. By making the sessions
short, the task of writing is less daunting, making it easier to start.
Boice thought that if academics who had arrived at this approach
on their own had prospered, then bingers might be able to adopt the
same techniques, creating different habits with similar productivity and
stress-reduction advantages. He showed many benefits from adopting a
regular-writing habit. Productivity soared, and regular writers produced
far more creative ideas.
One factor in explaining this improvement involves the way the
mind works. Most mental processing is unconscious, creative thinking
in particular (Claxton, 1997). When writing even for a few minutes,
attention is directed at the issues addressed, and subsequently mind
processes this material unconsciously, coming up with ideas that can be
used in the next session.
I drew an analogy with sports such as running and swimming. Today
every coach realises that daily training is essential to elite performance.
No athlete can succeed without training, and training just once a week
is inferior to daily training, even with the same total number of hours.
No basketball coach thinks practising free throws for eight hours the
night before a big game is sensible compared to 10 minutes per day over
a month. The mind responds to training in roughly the same way as
muscles, with progressive adaptation to heavier loads, yet many scholars
think that one “research day” per week is a valid strategy. This might be
similar to the way many amateur athletes trained a century ago, long
superseded by modern athletic training principles.
Boice’s work is filled with insights, but is not inspiring prose. Gray
took Boice’s ideas, added research findings of her own, and turned the
regular-writing approach into an accessible plan. I was a convert, in part
because years earlier I had accidentally hit upon a writing practice part
of the way towards the Boice–Gray model.
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Implementing the Writing Programme

My first step was to adopt the writing programme myself. This included
keeping a record of the number of new words I wrote each day and the
number of minutes it took me to write them. Boice and Gray say not
to edit as you go along, but to write more freely, using the creative part
of the mind and saving critical analysis until later. I set up a spreadsheet
and started logging my daily word and minute totals, something I con-
tinue to do today (even as I write this chapter!).
After trying out the programme myself, I next pitched it to my
Ph.D. students, telling them I had discovered a way to improve their
productivity. As well as recommending daily writing—but not too
much any day—and keeping a log of words and minutes, I invited them
to send their logs to me every week. We could then have a discussion of
how their writing had been going.
Boice, in one of his experiments, showed the dramatic advantages of
regular writing. One group of academics, the controls, wrote in their
usual way and produced just 17 pages of polished text per year, about
half an article’s worth. Members of another group were asked to write
in brief regular sessions and produced an average of 64 pages of pol-
ished text per year, a tremendous improvement. Then there was a third
group, whose members wrote in brief regular sessions and reported their
logs to Boice every week. They produced an average of 157 pages per
year. Boice’s conclusion was that most writers need an external moni-
tor in order to maintain the habit of regular writing. Relying on will-
power alone is not reliable except for a small minority, most likely
including the ones Boice had originally observed having low-stress high
productivity.
Only some of my students were able to adopt the programme.
I learned that although this approach is easy to describe, actually doing
it can be incredibly challenging. The mind rebels against changing hab-
its acquired over many years, including the pattern of binge-writing
high school and undergraduate essays.
In my discussions with students about their writing, I gradually
started probing into details of when, where, and how they wrote. This
was giving more attention to the mechanics of writing and the writing
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environment than I had previously ever considered. For example, we

discovered that daily writing was best done in the morning, if possible,
and before checking emails or searching the web. Distractions had to
be minimised, for example by closing office doors and switching off
phones.
Another obstacle is the capacity for critical analysis, which is well
developed in social researchers. Critical examination of text is an impor-
tant skill, one regularly practised, but it can hinder the free flow of ideas
necessary to put down new words. To address this obstacle, I recom-
mended having nothing nearby that was finished prose: no open books
and no articles. I advised students against reading their own previous
text prior to writing, because this too would obstruct fluency in creating
new text. Instead, I advised, following Boice and Gray, preparing a dot-
point plan for the day’s writing, and relying entirely on this, not stop-
ping to look up references or check points of fact, but just keep writing
until the session was over.
The usual target was 5–20 minutes per day, typically averaging 10–20
words per minute. One day’s output then might be 50–400 words, usu-
ally lower for those not writing in their native language. Chai, a Ph.D.
student at a Thai university, visited Wollongong for a semester and
adopted the writing programme. Writing in English, he could manage
five words per minute. After returning to Thailand, and writing in Thai,
he could go many times faster.
Writing 200 new words per day may not seem like a lot, but it adds
up. Over a year, writing every day, it amounts to nearly 75,000 words,
about the length of a Ph.D. thesis.
With my students, a lot of fine-tuning was involved, and I learned
a lot sharing ideas with different students. For example, if there was a
week when Kerryn reported writing on only two days, I would ask why,
and we would explore options for improving the frequency. In doing
this, the goal was writing regularly, even just five minutes per day, as
the first priority, to develop the habit of writing. We would identify
obstacles, for example, teaching or travel, and discuss ways of overcom-
ing them. I would comment to students that this was an experimental
process: we would see whether a change led to improvement; if not, we
185
would try something else. There was no single solution for every person
or for every circumstance.
We also probed into thoughts that accompany writing. Most writers
experience “self-talk,” which is a part of the mind generating thoughts
that surface to consciousness. For writers, much self-talk is negative, for
example “What I’m writing is crap” or “I’ll never get this published” or
“I’m no good, so I might as well give up.” Negative self-talk can be a
serious hindrance, and often leads to procrastination.
These thoughts can be countered by focusing attention on them and
articulating arguments against their underlying assumptions, in the
manner of cognitive behavioural therapy. Negative self-talk has been lik-
ened to a duck sitting on your shoulder talking into your ear, and there
are notepads with the recommendation to “Shut the duck up.”
Keeping in Contact
In earlier years, I made contact with my Ph.D. students only occasion-
ally, with a lengthy meeting every two or three weeks being a typical
pattern, similar to that of most of my colleagues. In 2007, I agreed to
supervise an honours student, Patrick, at one of the university’s remote
campuses, in Bega, several hours’ drive south of Wollongong. Neither
Patrick nor I had much likelihood of travelling in order to meet face
to face, so I arranged to ring him every week at a regular time, to fit in
between his casual work and other activities, including supporting his
wife and four young children.
A weekly call, even a brief one, turned out to be far more effective
than longer but less frequent meetings. We could talk about how he was
going, with a prompt turnaround for issues that arose. It was so effec-
tive that I soon adopted the same approach with all my Ph.D. students,
including Patrick when he started his doctorate the following year.
At the time, my supervision load was heavy, including 10 Ph.D. stu-
dents for whom I was principal supervisor—and only one of them lived
in Wollongong. The others were in cities across Australia. I arranged a
weekly phone call with each student outside Wollongong, and a weekly
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B. Martin
meeting with the one Wollongong resident. The weekly calls were of no
fixed length, and varied from five minutes to an hour, probably aver-
aging 20–30 minutes. This depended mainly on the student and how
much they liked to talk, as well as what was happening with their stud-
ies and their lives. In my experience, weekly contact probably involved
less total time than infrequent longer meetings.
Having more frequent contact is hardly new. In many scientific disci-
plines, students work with their supervisors nearly every day in the lab;
apprenticeship is a hands-on affair. In the social sciences and human-
ities, though, many students work from home, and this was especially
the case for my students who had careers and families and who lived
outside Wollongong. For some of them, contact with me was their only
regular contact with anyone at the university.
Meanwhile, I organised a writing group using the principles of the
Boice–Gray high-output programme and advertised it for academics
and research students in my faculty. Initially, there were two separate
groups, one for academics and one for students. Later, to save time,
I combined the groups, and it has turned out that mixing academics
and research students in a writing group can be stimulating and produc-
tive. We meet weekly all year long to share experiences in writing and
to comment on drafts of each other’s writing. Most participants bring
along a page of text for comment each week.
From the on-campus writing group, I learned the value of obtaining
feedback from non-experts. Gray advises sending drafts of text first to
non-experts and then, after making revisions, to experts. Non-experts
can ask naive questions about the meaning of words or the flow of ideas,
often picking up limitations that experts do not notice because they are
so familiar with the field that they skip over omissions that stymie others.
In our writing group, we have had students or staff writing on topics
ranging from Mandarin to military history. We can comment on each
other’s texts in terms of clarity and organisation, but only sometimes in
terms of the content. This has proved remarkably stimulating.
My one Wollongong Ph.D. student attended, and also occasionally
one of my other students when they visited, but for others in the group
I was not in a formal supervisory role. I have always made clear that
they should follow the advice of their supervisors and that our group
187
is meant to help with the process of writing, and only incidentally deal
with matters of content. Nevertheless, our general discussions have cov-
ered a range of topics, for example, lengths of theses, thesis submission
procedures, submitting articles to journals, choice of examiners, pres-
entation of conference papers, and difficulties with university regu-
lations. In this context, I and the other academics in the group act in
a support role that contributes to students’ greater understanding and
skill in achieving their degrees and becoming better scholars.
Outcomes
Only some of my students took up the writing programme systemat-
ically and conscientiously. I learned from the faculty-wide group that
although many started the programme, only some were able to change
their habits and maintain the new habits—changing habits is difficult
(Duhigg, 2012). For those who do, the results are just as dramatic as
Boice’s and Gray’s research has shown. For example, Ian did his Ph.D.
part-time because he was working, but nevertheless was able to write his
whole thesis within a couple of years.
Brendan provides an excellent example of how to proceed. He wrote
just 100 words or so each day, yet by the end of his first year he had
30,000 words. After he had finished a rough draft of chapter 3, for
example, he would write each day on chapter 4 while putting in follow-
up work on chapter 3 such as additional reading, checking of facts and
revising the text. He did all this while his family grew from two to three
children.
During the first year of his Ph.D., Brendan had a personal crisis that
made him feel like taking a break from daily writing and possibly tak-
ing leave of absence from his Ph.D. studies. Knowing about research
on how writing can help individuals deal with traumatic experiences
(DeSalvo, 1999; Pennebaker, 1997, 2004), I suggested that he might
write daily about his personal issues. He did and, to his surprise, within
two weeks was able to return to writing on his thesis.
Majken was another student who followed the writing programme.
I knew her before she began her Ph.D., and she joined a small online
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B. Martin
writing group for researchers studying nonviolent action. In a year or

so while working full-time in a completely different field, she wrote the
major part of a book on nonviolence, which helped her obtain a schol-
arship at Wollongong.
Testimonials alone do not prove the effectiveness of a method. I have
not tried to collect data on the effectiveness of the Boice–Gray pro-
gramme because, so far as I’m concerned, they have already done suf-
ficient research, and anyway I have too many other research projects.
Still, it is comforting that my observations of the power of the pro-
gramme are compatible with Boice’s and Gray’s conclusions.
Sceptics
The procrastination–bingeing approach to writing seems to be quite
common among academics. Not only is it difficult to change to a reg-
ular-writing approach, my observation is that academics find making
this switch more difficult than do research students. Academics have
more entrenched habits and, furthermore, they are less likely to think
of themselves as learners. The rhetoric of the Ph.D. is that it is train-
ing to be a researcher; hence, once the degree is obtained, the impli-
cation is that graduates should be able to fend for themselves without
the need for close supervision. This of course is contrary to what Boice
observed among new academics: most of them struggled. When stu-
dents using the conventional procrastination–bingeing approach obtain
their Ph.D.s, their habits are both entrenched and certified. Then, when
they struggle in their academic careers in their initial post-Ph.D. years,
they blame their workloads or themselves, not their writing habits.
When I’ve discussed the writing programme with successful research-
ers, only a few of them are interested. Indeed, some dismiss it out of
hand, or come up with reasons why it won’t work. Only a minority seek
out the research to see for themselves how and why it works.
I regularly hear objections based on unarticulated assumptions. The
most common objection is that “I know what works for me, and I
need big blocks of time.” Or they might say they have to collect data or
read theory first. They might say they are too busy to write every day,
189
even after I point out that 10 minutes out of a day will not subtract
much from the many hours they commit to meetings or marking
assignments, or using social media for that matter.
Then there are those who learn about the programme, try to start but
cannot. Some cannot even initiate a single session of writing, because
this is not part of their usual sequence of procrastination and bingeing.
One factor in this resistance to regular writing is the belief, in many
circles, in natural talent (Dweck, 2006). If academic success is due to
superior intelligence, then those in the winner’s circle are less likely to
want to recognise that there are habits for doing research that can make
a huge difference, habits that can enable seemingly ordinary students to
become highly productive scholars. Athletes might once have relied on
natural talent, but these days it is not enough, if it makes much dif-
ference at all. There is now a body of research on expert performance
that suggests that the key is a particular type of practice, which involves
concentrating intently on tackling challenges at the edge of one’s abili-
ties (Ericsson, Hoffman, Kozbelt, & Williams, 2018; for popular treat-
ments, see Colvin, 2010; Coyle, 2009; Ericsson & Pool, 2016; Shenk,
2010; Syed, 2010). That is exactly what regular writing involves: writing
is a form of thinking, aimed at addressing a challenging task.
Co-authoring
In many humanities disciplines, it is uncommon for supervisors to
co-author publications with research students. This was certainly the
case in my faculty at the University Wollongong. Indeed, for many years
I avoided any suggestion of co-authoring, because I had written about
exploitation of students, through so-called honorary authorship, or
co-authorship that is not deserved, that is especially common in many
scientific fields (Martin, 1986, 2013). Normally I agreed to write with
students only after they had finished their degrees.
Then, some years ago, I had a conversation with Rob Whelan, a biol-
ogist whom I had known for many years, and who had become Dean
of Science. He said that he and the other scientists he collaborated with
preferred students to be sole authors of papers, but would co-author if
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B. Martin
it increased the odds of students actually publishing their work. This

seemed sensible to me, so when appropriate I made this possibility
known to my students, with the proviso that I had to do my share of
the work and they would be first author. This has worked out well.
After maintaining weekly contact with students over several years,
our contact usually became sporadic after they submitted their the-
ses, seemingly based on my assumption that the main job was done.
I’ve now come to realise the value in maintaining a regular connec-
tion post-submission and sometimes after graduation, especially with
students who have no other institutional form of support for their
research. If developing a habit is key to improved productivity, and reg-
ular support and reinforcement are needed to maintain the habit, as
Boice has stated, then it is unwise to cut off supervisory connections
in a sudden way. How to proceed depends a lot on the student. Those
going into non-research careers are in a different situation than those
wanting to publish for career purposes or to communicate their findings
to relevant audiences.
Obviously there is a limit to any policy of keeping regular connec-
tions with former students, otherwise I would be making dozens of calls
every week. Many students go their own ways or find other sources of
support. What I’ve learned is to try to think through the implications of
the writing programme beyond the arbitrary bounds of Ph.D. candida-
ture. Doing a Ph.D. is better thought of as a process of ongoing devel-
opment rather than achieving a goal and saying, “That’s it, I’ve arrived.”
Likewise, being a supervisor can be thought of as part of a longer-term
process.
One great benefit of learning a new writing-research habit is that it
can be used post-Ph.D. Some of my Ph.D. students, especially prior
to 2008, faced many challenges in finishing their theses, but eventu-
ally succeeded. However, this did not lay a solid basis for subsequent
research productivity. In many cases, I was no longer around to push
them along, and they did not continue with the same intensity. With
the writing programme, there are better odds of continuing with
regular writing: a habit, once learned, can be picked up again even after
a break.
191
Although I have learned a lot about how to use the writing pro-
gramme, there is still much to learn. I’ve been using the programme
myself for over a decade, and periodically obtain new insights in how to
refine my approach to generating new research ideas, planning projects,
switching between projects, writing while travelling and various other
matters. Becoming a better writer, and a better researcher, is a lifelong
process, with no end point. Why not start today?
Acknowledgements Thanks to my Ph.D. students and to the many

participants in the writing group for stimulating discussions and valuable
insights. Patrick Danaher, Jenny Donovan, Kathy Flynn, Mark Richardson,
Brendan Riddick, Majken Sørensen and two anonymous reviewers provided
useful comments on drafts of this chapter.
References
Baumeister, R. F., Bratslavsky, E., Finkenauer, C., & Vohs, K. D. (2001). Bad
is stronger than good. Review of General Psychology, 5(4), 323–370.
Boice, R. (1984). Contingency management in writing and the appearance of
creative ideas: Implications for the treatment of writing blocks. Behaviour
Research and Therapy, 21, 537–543.
Boice, R. (1990). Professors as writers: A self-help guide to productive writing.
Stillwater, OK: New Forums Press.
Boice, R. (2000). Advice for new faculty members: Nihil Nimus. Boston: Allyn
& Bacon.
Claxton, G. (1997). Hare brain tortoise mind: Why intelligence increases when
you think less. London: Fourth Estate.
Colvin, G. (2010). Talent is overrated: What really separates world-class perform-
ers from everybody else. New York: Penguin.
Coyle, D. (2009). The talent code. Greatness isn’t born. It’s grown. Here’s how.
New York: Bantam.
DeSalvo, L. (1999). Writing as a way of healing: How telling our stories trans-
forms our lives. London: Women’s Press.
Duhigg, C. (2012). The power of habit: Why we do what we do in life and busi-
ness. New York: Random House.
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(2018). The Cambridge handbook of expertise and expert performance (2nd
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Gray, T., Madson, L., & Jackson, M. (2018). Publish & flourish: Helping
scholars become better, more prolific writers. To Improve the Academy,
37(2), 243–256.
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C. Manwell, & C. Pugh (Eds.), Intellectual suppression: Australian case histo-
ries, analysis and responses (pp. 59–62). Sydney: Angus & Robertson.
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Publishing, 45(1), 74–86.
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Pennebaker, J. W. (2004). Writing to heal: A guided journal for recovering from
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Shenk, D. (2010). The genius in all of us: Why everything you’ve been told about
genetics, talent, and IQ is wrong. New York: Doubleday.
Syed, M. (2010). Bounce: The myth of talent and the power of practice. London:
Fourth Estate.
Part III
Relationships in the Doctorate
Tanya M. Machin
Introduction
In this part of the book, we examine the importance of connection and
relationship—both to supervisors and to peers. Supervisors who nur-
ture and develop doctoral students during this academic journey; play
an important role both with degree completion and with future career
identity for students. Tus the challenge is laid down to supervisors that
they need to have more than just academic expertise in their chosen
disciplines. Prospective doctoral students should ask potential supervi-
sors about their supervision approach and style, so that a good match
ensues—and students thus receive appropriate support during their
doctoral journeys. As these next six chapters demonstrate, connection
and relationship play critical elements in both student satisfaction and
researcher development and identity.
Sarah Peters and Janet McDonald clearly articulate the multiple roles
of a supervisor—mentor, friend, artist and collaborator. In a continua-
tion of this theme, Chapter 12 outlines the development and evolution
of the supervisory relationship, and the shared vision and workings of a
supervisor–student community of practice. Te authors highlight how
194 Part III: Relationships in the Doctorate
supervision should focus on ‘community’ building, and that no two

supervisory relationships are the same given the traits and experiences
that each person brings.
In Chapter 13, Aastha Malhotra retrospectively refects on her own
doctoral journey and an informal community of practice developed
between fellow students. Tese regular meetings with peers provided a
place where research challenges were discussed as well as triumphs cel-
ebrated, and they played an integral role as she progressed through her
Ph.D. Te author proposes that the evolution of both the CoP and a
person’s involvement in this type of group is highly personal, but may
mirror the confdence and growth of the developing researcher.
Doctoral students no longer need to be physically located on-campus.
Many students will be located some distance from their universities and
complete their doctorates externally or online—thus these students may
be geographically located on other continents from their supervisors.
Tis is the case in Chapter 14 where Bernadita Justiniano, Teresa Mauri
and Marc Clarà discuss the adjustments that need to occur for efective
supervision when distance (and time zones!) are involved. Tis autoeth-
nographic approach discusses the importance of relationship building,
the changing researcher identity when students ‘own’ their own research
and their growing autonomy, uncertainties faced by unfamiliar data
techniques and fnally the emotional supports that supervisors may be
called upon to give in a long distance supervisory relationship.
Tanya M. Machin and Renée L. Parsons-Smith also discuss the impor-
tance of social support during the doctoral journeys in Chapter 15, but
they focus on peer support. Tey refect on the diferent aspects of social
isolation that both on-campus and of-campus doctoral students may
encounter and recount their own experiences. Tese authors fnish the
chapter with a number of diferent strategies that doctoral students may
use to reduce their own isolation and to fnd peers for social support.
Te importance of the supervisory role is again discussed in Chapter
16. Jennifer Donovan uses the metaphor of anchor and sail to discuss
supervision. With sections such as setting sail, plain sailing, navigating
stormy weather, trade winds and land ahoy, she articulates the many
stages of the doctorate and the role that supervisors can play in helping
doctoral students to batten down the hatches or to set them adrift, as
Part III: Relationships in the Doctorate 195
well as helping them to adjust to becoming the captains of their own

ships with new crew members.
Te chapters thus far have provided examples of fexible and sup-
portive supervision; however, in the fnal chapter of this part, Robert
Templeton reports on the consequences when students are not sup-
ported during their doctoral journeys. Based on interviews with doc-
toral students, themes such as doctoral orphan and neglect from
supervisors are touched on. Te benefts of meeting with potential
supervisors and ongoing training for supervisors are highlighted.
11
Tiptoeing Around the Institution?
Doctoral Supervision
in the Knowledge Economy
Atholl Murray and Cecily Jensen-Clayton
Introducing the Context

This chapter explores two students’ less-than-satisfactory experiences of
their doctoral journeys in order to explain these experiences in the cur-
rent context in which students, supervisors and universities in Western
cultures, and increasingly across the globe, find themselves interpellated
through the effects of internationalisation (Haigh, 2008; Häyrinen-
Alestalo & Peltola, 2006; Lynch, 2006; Rizvi & Walsh, 1998; Tadaki &
Tremewan, 2013). Through an analysis of these students’ experiences, the
chapter identifies the discourses that influenced those experiences in order
to offer greater clarity about these and others’ doctoral journeys. This
analysis offers an opportunity to re-think doctoral supervision through
a greater awareness of the social, political and economic forces that
A. Murray (*)
Wooloowin, QLD, Australia
C. Jensen-Clayton
Cashmere, QLD, Australia
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_11
198
A. Murray and C. Jensen-Clayton
impinge upon this journey, and a greater awareness of the needs of the
doctoral student who is traversing the doctorate.
In the section that follows, we provide some awareness of these social,
political and economic forces by exploring the broader context in which
contemporary Western universities are positioned—that is, the knowl-
edge economy. We continue by identifying some of the implications
of the corporatisation of Western universities (as players in the knowl-
edge economy) in terms of doctoral students’ experiences. The chapter
then focuses on the starting points of the authors’ doctoral journeys. We
identify sources of data and means of analysis, and the findings arising
from this analysis. The chapter concludes with the insights gained that
highlight the importance of the supervisory relationship, and the agency
and engagement of the student within that relationship. We suggest that
the representations of both supervisor and student play a crucial role in
successfully traversing the doctorate. We begin this chapter by exploring
the knowledge economy.
The Knowledge Economy

The Knowledge Economy has been made central to the work of the
contemporary academic in the university faculty context as the result
of institutional drives towards internationalisation (Altbach, 2013;
Haigh, 2008; Olssen & Peters, 2005; Tadaki & Tremewan, 2013).
Internationalisation within the knowledge economy is largely the
response of educational institutions to knowledge-based markets (e.g.,
knowledge and knowledge related activities such as learning, research,
education, training) (Brancaleone & O’Brien, 2011; Yemini, 2014).
The knowledge economy as enabled by neo-liberalism, has created social
and economic transformations (Harvey, 2005), creating a shift from
state-led democratically driven economies to a borderless unfettered
global economy. This shift has also changed the way in which universi-
ties have been funded—a change from reliance on state funding to that
of having to seek privately sourced funding (Haigh, 2008). This shift in
11 Tiptoeing Around the Institution? …
199
funding has initiated a transformation of the traditional university into

being a corporate university (Marginson, 2006), one that has been and
continues to be facilitated by managerialism (Lynch, 2014). As a decon-
textualized form of governance (where context-specific knowledge is
regarded as irrelevant) managerialism focuses on outputs and outcomes,
and how these serve economic interests (Lynch, 2014). The knowl-
edge economy also creates a situation for universities where universities
gain their relevance from the degree to which they serve the interests of
industry (Bastalich, 2010; Kauppinen, 2012). This relationship of the
corporate university with industry as a product of the knowledge econ-
omy has changed the way research and knowledge is now produced and
valued (Bastalich, 2010; Kauppinen, 2012). In the knowledge economy,
doctoral students are knowledge workers involved in knowledge pro-
duction, while neo-liberalism/managerialism constructs agency for doc-
toral students in terms of managing their research projects.
In this knowledge economy/neo-liberal/managerial context doctoral
students need to navigate two things: their own research project, and
a subtle, unknown pressure (felt but not understood) moving the stu-
dent towards the academic world and its implicit “glocal”1 demands
(Robertson, 2012). This positions the doctoral student as serving their
obvious needs of their own development and, less obviously the super-
visor’s responsibility towards the academy and the institution’s interna-
tionalisation purposes and goals. From the student’s perspective (and
possibly others’), the institution’s and supervisors’ stakehold in the doc-
torate is largely hidden. This creates a disconnect between the student’s
experience and their expectations of their doctoral journey.
Drawing on accounts of two doctoral journeys, this chapter looks at
these journeys in relation to these two students’ unmet expectations,
and these as they relate to institutional narratives. In pursuing this
empirically grounded exploration, the aim of this chapter is to evalu-
ate strengths and limitations of institutional provision for the doctoral
journey, of possibilities around this provision, and to assess whether
such parameters are appropriate and sufficient for today’s research
context—a complex work driven by the knowledge economy in a glo-
balised world.
200
The Doctoral Student in the Corporate

University
For the institution, the move towards corporatisation (as a consequence
of the knowledge economy) can be seen to have resulted in changes in
the relationship between student and institution. In the past, the stu-
dent may have sought the status provided by one institution in com-
parison to another, however, as a result of the homogenisation of
universities, a consequence of the Bologna project, (Brancaleone &
O’Brien, 2011; Keeling, 2006) the power over students through insti-
tutional status has been weakened. In the current Australian context,
and specifically for the doctoral student, the institution has less and less
to draw upon as means to develop the student’s allegiance to the insti-
tution. Students can become aware that they can be valuable assets to
their own university, or another university if their experience is less than
ideal.2 In corporate ways of thinking it is not in the best interests of the
university to communicate these options to the students.
In contrast, the doctoral student enters their study largely unaware
of the economic and political agendas which shape their experience of
engagement with the university. These agendas are entrenched within
institutional discourses (Marginson, 2006). As a consequence of insti-
tutional discourses (Fairclough, 2012), students (and perhaps some
supervisors and administrative staff) may be blinded to the layers of
meaning within institutional policies that serve the needs of the insti-
tution beyond the students’ goals of the doctorate. As well students are
largely unaware of that, the needs of the institution both as a corpora-
tion and international player in the knowledge economy which are even
beyond the traditional goals of the doctorate itself (Marginson, 2006).
It could be argued that the knowledge economy, its elements and their
significance/impact/effects to/upon their doctoral program is some-
thing hidden from most students. For example, students may be aware
of the pressure to complete their study within three years (full-time
equivalent) without being aware of why the institution is placing such
importance on this achievement, or what their options are in response
to this pressure. Thus when students’ attempt to understand their rela-
tionship with the university, institutional discourses and narratives are
201
experienced as unclear and intangible. Institutional policies embedded

in these discourses (that are directed towards seemingly non-doctoral
goals) can prevent easy access to their meaning. In the following section,
we provide brief narratives of our perceptions and expectations of doc-
toral study that gave rise to the experiences of conflict that we describe
in this chapter.
Entering the Doctoral Terrain

I (Researcher 1) came to doctoral study as a result of my research expe-
riences as part of a postgraduate degree, which I undertook as part of
a major career change. This first research project provided me with an
opportunity to explore questions and ideas that I had been thinking
about for a number of years. At the end of that project, I knew there
was much more to know and I was keen to explore further. At the same
time I was working at a university in an administrative capacity, which
provided me with opportunities to engage with high-level academics
who were experienced doctoral supervisors and examiners as well as
active researchers. I also had academic colleagues who were completing
their own doctoral study. These connections enabled me to develop an
“inside view” of what it was to undertake doctoral study. From these
experiences, I came to understand the freedom doctoral study could
offer to pursue a specific area of interest, the significant personal cost
in terms of time commitment, emotional commitment and unknown-
ness of the journey. I heard many stories about the challenges of remain-
ing focused, motivated and maintaining interest in one’s topic of study.
I also heard stories of the challenges to one’s person and in one’s per-
sonal life that were likely a part of the journey. However, it was a cul-
ture in which doctoral study was regarded as the highest degree of the
university, and that completion was the mark of significant personal and
professional achievement. I also understood that not all Ph.D.s were
completed.
It was a long and winding road that took me (Researcher 2) to doc-
toral study: a desire that began in childhood, a desire based on my
idea of a Ph.D. as the highest form of intellectual pursuit. This desire
202
appeared as only a dream because when young, I couldn’t flourish in the

schooling system. Relegated by the social system to work with my hands,
I worked as a hairdresser and then in my hairdressing business for the next
43 years. During this time I experienced a transformation in my thinking,
where I began to understand myself as capable of doing tertiary level study.
With this new understanding of myself, I began and completed a Master of
Theological Studies as part of my drive towards growth and so towards per-
sonal development and a new future. This study did not lead anywhere. At
age 58 I sold the business and went to live and work in China as a TESOL
teacher for 4 years. While there I completed Master of Education, and
upon my return I gained employment as an English Language Intensive
Courses for Overseas Students (ELICOS) teacher. This experience, which
added to my ongoing personal and professional growth, gave me a focus
for doctoral research. I did some background research of people in the area
of TESOL/international education, then visited a number of universities/
potential supervisors. Nobody showed any interest in what I was interested
in doing and how I wanted to achieve this, until I came to this University.
It was during our doctoral study that we (Researcher 1 and
Researcher 2) met. Although each of us developed our ideas about the
nature of doctoral study from different sources, we shared a common
vision of the Ph.D. as being about excellence, growth—both personal
and academic, and about fulfilling one’s own desires to pursue answers
to questions. Each of us also understood that a doctoral degree required
the development of knowledge that was innovative and at the cutting-
edge of the field and desired the opportunity to be part of this. It was
these beliefs and desires that led to experiences of conflict between our
personal ideals and experiences, between narratives of professionalism
and narratives of institutional functionalism, and between personal
goals and structural constraints. A clarity of awareness regarding these
conflicts arose from our discussions and gave rise to further investiga-
tion of the data that are analysed in this chapter.
Our experiences of traversing the doctorate were not, until the lat-
ter part of our journeys, ones of excellence, growth and of fulfilling
our desires for greater knowledge. Ours were experiences of “very little
psychological oxygen” (Kegan, 1982, p. 123), and ultimately required
changes of supervision and supervisory model in order to allow growth.
203
However, our purpose in writing this chapter is not to vilify supervi-

sors or universities; our purpose is to provide explanations regarding the
mismatch between our understandings of growth and our experiences,
explanations that identify the ways in which supervisors and univer-
sities, as well as students, are disempowered by personal, cultural and
institutional discourses.
Investigating the Doctoral Terrain: Techniques

and Perspectives
The data we have analysed in this chapter are drawn from a number of
sources that describe our experiences of supervision and include emails,
personal diary entries, supervision meeting notes and reflections upon
these experiences, and are therefore autobiographical. We have also
drawn upon relevant policy and organisational documents from the
university at which we studied. This case study has been approached
collectively, that is, we draw upon two individuals’ experiences to form a
single case study (Baxter & Jack, 2008; Merriam, 2009). By combining
these two approaches we are able to bring each of our perspectives to
both sets of data, which allows us to confirm, contest and enrich each
other’s interpretations. Case study research also allows for explanatory
interpretations of lived experiences (Harder, 2010; Yin, 2003). In addi-
tion, the use of discourse analysis has allowed us to identify the social
practices that shape these experiences (Fairclough, 2012).
Initially, emails, personal diary entries and meeting notes were
sequenced according to timeline to allow us to see our journeys as they
unfolded. This process also allowed our reflections upon our own jour-
ney from the final phases of our doctoral study. The analysis of these
data involved three distinct but recursive and interactive phases. The
first phase identified key aspects of our experiences, which we described
in short narrative statements or single word labels. These were ini-
tially identified independently, by each researcher for their own data.
This process was iterative, in that early narratives and labels were revis-
ited and modified as the focus of the analysis became clearer. In subse-
quent iterations, we reviewed each other’s data.
204
The second phase analysed these narratives/labels across both

researchers’ data by identifying the personal, supervisor and university/
institutional discourses that gave rise to these narratives/labels. These
were worded as statements which were then combined, revised or
divided to produce a single set of discourses.
The final phase evaluated these discourses on the basis of their relevance
to the focus of this chapter. Those that were not considered relevant, by
both researchers, to that focus, or were beyond the possibilities available
within this chapter, are not included in the discussion presented here.
In analysing these data, we acknowledge that our perceptions and
interpretations, both of our experiences as recorded in situ (i.e., emails,
meeting notes, diary entries), and our reflections upon these experiences
at a later stage, necessarily arise from our particular world-views and
cultural/professional discourses (Denzin & Lincoln, 2011); discourses
regarding: being a doctoral student, making a significant contribution
to a field of study, and being supervised, and discourses about supervi-
sors and universities. It is these discourses that we make explicit in our
analyses and identify ways in which these were reinforced or ways in
which our needs/expectations arising from these discourses were unmet.
We also identify discourses that are implied through our engagements
with supervisors and universities. We also acknowledge that these
implied discourses arise from our interpretations of our experiences,
interpretations that are based upon our own world-views and that repre-
sent one interpretation of a range of possible interpretations (Denzin &
Lincoln, 2011). We also identify discourses that are present in univer-
sity documentation/policy, which are, to some degree, also subject to
our ways of seeing the world. However, having acknowledged that our
interpretations are our interpretations, we place that acknowledgement
in the context of this chapter, which seeks to offer an analysis of our
experiences, which arise from our particular interpretations. We do this
in order to share experiences that may resonate with other students’ and
supervisors’ experiences. By offering our own understandings of these
experiences, we also hope to provide greater clarity for others’ under-
standing of their experiences. However, the clarity in understanding our
experiences and of the organisational contexts in which they occurred,
which we present here, have enabled us to identify new ways in which
205
supervision can be conceptualised. We conclude by presenting some of

these new conceptualisations.
Traversing the Doctoral Terrain:

Engagement and Agency
We began our traverse with a vision of mystery and excitement. It was
a beginning of not-knowing, and looking forward to the prospect of
“finding out” as the path revealed itself to us. This prospect painted a
picture of adventure and excitement that promised personal rewards
and challenges and exciting opportunities. Although it was about half-
way through our doctoral journeys that we met, and from different
fields of study, there was common ground on which we stood. Here was
an opportunity for personal and professional growth, a unique opportu-
nity to explore ideas and develop knowledge that could make a substan-
tial difference, a response to this impetus that had led each of us, albeit
independently, to this point.
I was extremely excited about being accepted into a doctoral program …

as part of my life’s journey.
(Reflection on doctoral acceptance process, Researcher 2)
I saw the PhD as a wonderful opportunity to ‘do my own thing’.
(Reflection on letter of offer, Researcher 1)
Much later, we discovered that this view is one also held by the
university:
… you have taken the first step in what we hope will be an exciting, chal-
lenging, and rewarding journey.
(Research Candidate Guide)
… [the supervisor should] assist the candidate to develop a realistic pro-
gram of study … that is likely to offer sufficient scope for research train-
ing, and is likely to prove an intellectually rewarding investigation.
(HDR Supervision Policy, 5.2c)
206
As independent professionals in different fields, we came with skills,

motivation, knowledge and inspiration. We had had sufficient experi-
ences of institutions to know they were not without limitations.
In previous research supervision experiences, my supervisor made it very

clear that I was to fit in with her way of operating… there was no space
for flexibility in terms of deadlines… if writing wasn’t given to her by a
particular time prior to meetings, then it would not be discussed – no
exceptions … [however] I had sufficient skills to be able to meet those
deadlines, or to work around the consequences…
(Reflection, Researcher 1)
Also as professionals, we understood ourselves a capable and resilient, so

that we viewed supervision as being helpful to the work of thesis devel-
opment but not essential to successful completion.
While we would value the supervision relationship, good students,
we understood, were those who took responsibility for managing their
project–and were ready for this challenge. This was also a view shared by
the university (“research candidates will … be responsible for managing
the research”, Research Candidate Guide) and by experts in the field of
doctoral study (Kearns & Gardiner, 2012).
From the beginning of the Ph.D. process/journey, it became clear that
there was a pre-determined path. This discovery was not overtly concern-
ing as we independently held the belief that once we understood this
path we could respond to institutional and supervisory challenges with
integrity. Any threats or risks to good management could be managed
through negotiation. In finding our way forward, we began to discover
the centrality of nurturing the supervisor relationship and of engagement:
For the first time I could see some connection with [my principal super-
visor’s] work; I felt quite elated that at long last I could see some point of
connection.
(Reflection on email, October 23, 2013, Researcher 2)
“If you could let me know you’ve received this, that would be fantastic …
Thanks for all your assistance, encouragement and advice.”
(email to supervisor, May 28, 2012, Researcher 1)
207
An unusual request [to request confirmation of receipt]… am I not

receiving any feedback? do I feel as if my communication is going into
a vacuum? Am I just being nice by thanking my supervisor? This seems
such a contradiction…
(Reflection on email, Researcher 1)
and later come to understand the supervision/student relationship to be

critical to the success of the doctorate. It was not a secret, the university
knew it too (“The relationship with your supervisor/s is an important
one”, Research Candidate Guide).
As the journey became clearer, the importance of the supervisor/
student relationship began to take shape in terms of student learn-
ing needs. The kind of guidance and support needed was a recogni-
tion and valuing of the student’s (our) intellectual growth as part of
the thesis development. We were both beginning to realise that even
“good” students are not able to be independent of the institution, but
relied on the expertise of the supervisor for quite a number of things,
including institutional processes and their execution in a timely
manner.
I had discussed with [my principal supervisor] a modification to my pilot

study ethics application so that I could undertake further Pilot Studies.
These were to be conducted with students in classes I was teaching, and
the activities designed for data collection were also appropriate for the
research concepts being taught in the classes.
(Background to experiences with supervisor,
September/October 2013, Researcher 1)
“Not sure if you are checking your emails at present, but I have missed
you in order to get my modification to ethics signed……. I’ve attached
the forms. Would you be happy to approve via email?”
(email to supervisor, October 22, 2013, Researcher 1)
“No time just at the moment, but I’ll attach my electronic signal a bit
later.”
(reply from supervisor, October 24, 2013, Researcher 1)
“I just wanted to remind you that my opportunity to obtain permission
to utilise the XXX cohort for research purposes is fast running out. If you
208
could add your signature to the request for modification and the partici-
pant information letter that would be really fantastic.”
(email to supervisor, October 29, 2013, Researcher 1)
As a consequence of [my supervisors] lack of response, it was not possible
to collect data with either of two cohorts of students. A great opportunity
missed!
(Reflection on experiences with supervisor,
October, 2013, Researcher 1)
Expertise in the area of the students’ research was also necessary to the
supervisory relationship, as was advocacy. Our need for knowledge in
navigating the normal dysfunctions of the institution began to slow our
progress down:
I was realising that my supervisors didn’t really know how to help me

and I was becoming overwhelmed by the lack of understanding of my
needs that they were demonstrating. Being overwhelmed slowed me
down, taking my mental/emotional/ intellectual energies away from my
work.
(Reflection on email to supervisors, December 15, 2012, Researcher 2)
While recognising the need to fit in with the university there was also a
recognition of demonstrating our own value to the institution. This was
one of the greatest challenges Researcher 2 faced:
“It would be good if you can send through a well developed piece of
work in which you have taken on the previous feedback provided by [co
supervisor] and myself (including the advice to have a critical friend read
your work).”
(email, October 11, 2013, Researcher 2)
I didn’t know what their ideas of a “well-developed” piece of work were –
and I had asked numerous times for clarification – even to the point of
providing a ‘good writing’ scale to seek clarification about what charac-
teristics they were focussing on. So I assumed that what they wanted was
a well-edited piece of work – one that read well, even if the ideas weren’t
innovative, scholarly or ‘cutting-edge’
209
My supervisors emphasis the need for me to have “taken on the previ-

ous feedback” – are they doubting that I am working with their feedback?
Aside from this, it was incredibly difficult to combine two disparate
sets of feedback into one revision so that both supervisors would be
convinced that their advice had been followed.
On the other hand, Researcher 1 had the opposite experience:
“As I figured would be the case, I don’t have any real substantive com-
ments to make re your proposal … it is certainly nicely laid out … I am
sure the [confirmation] committee will find it easy reading (which is
really the main aim).”
(email from principal supervisor, June 22, 2012, Researcher 1)
I asked my principal supervisor to review my ethics applications before
I submitted them. He told me that he was sure that there was nothing
that would need amending … and that I should upload them directly to
the system and he would approve them on-line.
(Reflection on ethics application, September 9, 2013, Researcher 1)
These two opposite experiences were of not being on the one page with
the supervisor and proved to be a serious threat to the progress of thesis
development: Researcher 2 experiencing mismatch….
I experienced my learning and knowledge production style clashing with

[university] process of thesis development.
(Reflection on email from supervisor,
November 28, 2011, Researcher 2)
Significant self-knowledge/insight: my need to externalise in order to
conceptualise.
No one seemed to be interested in my insights as part of the doctoral
journey or about my style of learning – i.e., the way I produce knowledge.
When I attempted to communicate my needs in relation to my learn-
ing and knowledge production style, these were not acknowledged by
supervisors.
(Reflection, May 25, 2011, Researcher 2)
210
I was dissatisfied with the doctoral process, being asked to work with
someone in early childhood to develop my research project in ELICOS
however I was also determined to succeed in obtaining a PhD.
(Reflection, April 13, 2011, Researcher 2)
This was the beginning of theoretical conflicts as I was working with the
idea of discourses and now [my co-supervisor] is suggesting using the
concept of paradigms (which doesn’t fit with discourse analysis).
(Reflection on email from co-supervisor,
July 4, 2013, Researcher 2)
and Researcher 1 being the expectations of his supervisor being different

to his own.
[My principal supervisor] provided some feedback regarding my m ethods

chapter – but was not particularly keen on including epistemological
ideas related to positivist approaches and flaws in hypothesis testing.
When I asked why, he wasn’t willing to engage in discussion. He
commented that he thought I was being a bit excessive, and suggested I
leave it out.
(Reflection on Supervision Meeting,
February 14, 2013, Researcher 1)
Researcher 2, in working towards developing complex ideas into a

conceptual framework, found that all of her supervisors required each
reading of her work to be easily read and understood (including thor-
ough proofreading), thus precluding any chance of organising complex
material.
“…are you indicating in your email that up to section 2.2.3 is your ‘pol-
ished’ piece of writing you would like our feedback on? Just want to
ensure I give my attention to the piece of work in your document which
you have refined.”
(email from supervisor, October 21, 2013, Researcher 2)
There was a lot of pressure put on to me to produce a piece of polished
work. This took quite a bit of doing. The request for polished work
211
did not lead me to understanding my own work but led me away from
what I was focusing on.
Built into the Ph.D. experience was the university’s policy of yearly
timelines leading to an expectation of “timely completion”:
“carefully monitor the progress of the student and discuss the format of
the thesis as well as timelines to aid timely completions.”
(HDR Supervision Policy: 5.3a)
In the case of Researcher 2, this was to cause “thesis anxiety”.
All this time the university made me aware of ‘time’ which over time cre-
ated thesis anxiety.
(Reflection on supervision meetings,
September 2013, Researcher 2)
These experiences of supervision were the process whereby both of us

had to admit that our initial belief that “we could do it on our own” was
rather naïve. We came to see that both students and supervisors expe-
rienced constraints on what was possible. Realising that the university
operates in the knowledge economy enabled us to recognise some of
these constraints, particularly those of time, and a focus on outcomes,
as a threat to substance (Gibbs, 2010). These constraints exacerbated
the effects of ineffective supervision; the combination was detrimental
to our doctoral projects and to our self-development.
Kearns and Gardiner (2012, p. 2) provide the following advice to
doctoral students:
In our experience, when you look at completion rates and times to com-
pletion, one factor stands out - the quality of supervision. If you are for-
tunate enough to receive good supervision and have a good relationship
with your supervisor, then your chances of finishing on time and, in fact,
of finishing at all, greatly increase. We have also deliberately phrased this
212
secret - it is you caring for and maintaining your supervisor, not them car-
ing for and maintaining you. If you have a supervisor who does all the
things we suggest below, great. Consider yourself fortunate and cherish
them. But in our experience, most supervisors are very busy, some are
even fallible (yes!) and this is when you need to take a more active role.
Our experiences suggest that even an active role, taken by capable stu-
dents who are skilled in managing their work and working relationships
was not sufficient to lead to effective progress. This is evidenced in that
both of our projects ground to a halt. Something more is needed; some-
thing more than “managing your supervisor”. What is needed is the
experience of engagement and agency within a productive supervisory
relationship. Is this possible within the knowledge economy?
Taking in the View from Here

This analysis has highlighted that our scholarly needs of engagement
and agency were largely not met by the models of supervision we expe-
rienced. Although aspects of these needs are addressed in university pol-
icy, the ways in which supervisors were able to enact them were limited
by personal and systemic constraints. These experiences have led us to
realise that an alternative model is required, one that places engagement
and agency as essential considerations, however ways to make this pos-
sible within the corporate university, within the knowledge economy
needs further exploration.
Some of the things we have identified in this chapter, that has looked
the concepts of engagement and agency, are as follows:
The doctoral journey needs to be rewarding, challenging and excit-
ing. Some of the ways towards achieving this is through a successful
student/supervisor relationship. This is so central, that is it can be seen
to be critical to the journey and to the success of the project. Part of this
journey needs to be the creation of a space in which the student can
experience intellectual growth and intellectual companionship.
Student learning needs also need to be a central concern. What this
study has also highlighted is the importance of expertise in supervision,
213
and the opportunity to influence the way in which this supervision

takes place. What is needed is a model of supervision that overcomes
differing expectations through clear and intentional communication, a
model rich enough to address the complexity of working in the knowl-
edge economy and that is able to facilitate accelerated learning to ensure
timely completion.
There needs to be a greater focus on purpose rather than time as
driving the process. This can allow effective collaboration to accelerate
completion; a collaboration that reduces ambiguity and negative trian-
gulation while maximising retention. We suggest a supervision model
whereby students have more influence over the way in which the team
operates, a model where the purpose of students’ research interests is
honoured.
It is our view that student agency and engagement are key factors in
retention and completion, as is a personal identification of the student,
rather than a generic perception of the doctoral student.
Conclusion: Journey’s End…

Our journeys of traversing our Ph.D.s are now complete. During the
journey, through changes of institutions and supervisors, we were able to
begin two trials of a model that embodies the aspects that we have sug-
gested above. Even in the early stages of our trial, we saw e ncouraging
growth in the progress of each doctoral project. Looking back on our
journeys, it is clear that this model was central to the achievement of the
goals with which we began traversing the doctorate. This new process
was not only academically rewarding but also personally engaging for all
members of the supervisory teams, with surprising benefits.
Notes
1. The term glocal addresses the unhelpful tendency to view globalisation as
homogeneous by bringing the local nuances to the phenomenon of glo-
balisation (Robertson, 2012).
214
2. The Australian Government’s Research Training Scheme (subsequently

the Research Training Program) funds students’ doctoral programmes.
Although it is the university that applies for this funding on behalf of
the student, the funding is attached to the student and is therefore trans-
ferrable if the student changes institution.
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12
Creating a Community of Practice
in a Practice-Led Ph.D.
Sarah Peters and Janet McDonald
Introduction
The supervisor/student relationship is one of the most influential com-
ponents of a successful Ph.D. journey, yet no two relationships are the
same. Over the 16 years that Janet has been working in academia, she has
observed every permutation: from the hands-off (“You’re on your own”)
model to Ph.D.s ending in marriage. Supervisor/student relationships
develop their own ecology and language based upon what each party brings
to the “practice” of supervision; some are highly effective and some are dis-
astrous. In this chapter, Sarah and Janet discuss and present findings from
S. Peters
College of Humanities, Arts and Social Sciences,
Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia
e-mail: Sarah.Peters@flinders.edu.au
J. McDonald (*)
School of Creative Arts, University of Southern Queensland,
e-mail: Janet.Mcdonald@usq.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_12
218
S. Peters and J. McDonald
our own research “haute couture”, mapping and analysing the process of
our supervisory relationship, and highlighting those elements that have
emerged owing to the practice-led methodologies used in Sarah’s research.
Although what we have experienced is unique given the particular merg-
ing of our knowledge and skill sets, we identify and articulate some of the
key learnings, gear-changes, practices and strategies that emerged across the
supervision of the Ph.D.. We relate our own shifts in supervisory relation-
ship to three significant philosophers/educationalists (Socrates, Freire and
Wenger) who have provided us with a scholarly language with which to
analyse and frame our evolving supervision landscape. This chapter is there-
fore a case study of our last three years of supervision (2013–2015), and
our findings present our particular insight into the qualities of a Ph.D. stu-
dent and supervisor. We suggest that a successful practice-led Ph.D. jour-
ney should culminate in an evolving community of practice that reflects
the discourse and practices of the practice-led research methodology.
To induce data for our case study, we constructed targeted research
questions designed to interrogate and analyse our supervisory practice.
As practice-led researchers, we have employed a methodology that par-
allels the nature of our community of practice: the dialogic interview.
Roulston (2010) describes this type of interview as “interactional and
interpretive”, and that its focus is “an interview practice that devel-
ops knowledge rather than simply conveying experience” (p. 27).
The dialogic interview is a method where knowledge is developed
through mutual participation and reciprocal critical reflection on ideas
(Kvale, 2005), and is situated within the broader category of qualitative
interviewing, a method used for its ability to induct rich and detailed
data pertaining to experience (Turner, 2010). We recorded a dialogic
interview between ourselves on 11 March 2015 to capture our anec-
dotes and recollections, and to develop mutually our understanding of
our supervisory relationship. The interview questions focused on our
individual perceptions of our roles in the supervision, how these have
changed over the course of the project, our navigation of the interfacial
aspects of theory and practice in the creation of artefacts, our effective
deployment of strategies, our ethical positions on intellectual property
and our journey towards creating a significant community of practice.
To begin, we orientate the reader to what we mean by practice-led
12 Creating a Community of Practice in a Practice-Led Ph.D.
219
research, highlighting how this methodology became evident in our

supervisory relationship and contributed to the evolution from dialogic
conversation to a vibrant, practice-based and social learning system.
Practice-Led Research in the Creative Arts

Practice-led research means that in the pursuit of new knowledge a
researcher engages with their practice as a key means to explore, exper-
iment with, create and articulate new knowledge both of the practice
itself and the broader practice field. Australian theatre academic Brad
Haseman (2006) explains that practice-led research is driven by “an
enthusiasm for practice” (p. 3) rather than a desire to solve a perceived
problem and therefore “practice is the principal research activity” (p. 7).
Janet and Sarah are both passionate about theatre, research, knowledge
transformation and collaborative praxis. Praxis here refers to the inter-
relation of theory and practice that creates “action that is informed”
(Freire, 2000, p. 3). It is a practice stimulated and moulded through
theory and reflection, a practice which simultaneously applies knowl-
edge and creates knowledge. Our mutual interests and engagement with
praxis underscored not only the research project, but also our supervi-
sory community of practice. Sarah’s passion as a theatre artist and inter-
est for research centres on the form and process of Verbatim Theatre.
In the Verbatim Theatre process, a community is interviewed on a spe-
cific topic or event, the conversations are recorded and the resulting
stories become a stimulus for the creative development of performance.
Sarah’s research focused on exploring the theory and process of creat-
ing Verbatim Theatre and the impact that involvement in a Verbatim
Theatre process may have on the community of storytellers. For this
research Sarah chose to explore the female experience of Alopecia, an
autoimmune disorder that results in hair loss, and interviewed 15
women across QLD in the process of writing the play. Significantly, the
community Sarah chose to work with was very personal as she also has
Alopecia, and this had implications for the supervisory relationship that
will be discussed shortly.
220
Baz Kershaw (2011), an international leader on practice-led

research describes the process as a constant interplay between “creative
doing with reflexive being” (p. 64), an interplay which Sharon Grady
(1996) describes as a symbiotic link, with a “dialectical relationship
between theorising and practice” (p. 61). The modes of artistic prac-
tice are research methods through the act of reflection, and the induc-
tion frameworks for documenting data are influenced by the practice.
As Dallas Baker (2011) explains, theorising and practicing are “unified
in that they both produce knowledge” (p. 36). This unified interplay
between practice and critical reflection was a key feature of our super-
visory community of practice. At some stages the emphasis was on
the creative doing; discussions surrounding translating ideas into per-
formance, structuring creative development workshops and navigating
the roles of playwright, actor and researcher. At others, we were shifting
into the parallel context of critical reflection and theorisation. We dis-
covered that a key link within this dialectic of practicing and theoris-
ing was language, “as we both discover the lexicon of the practice, that
lexicon becomes the way we discuss the research as well” (PI, Peters,
p. 4). The ways of working in the researched field of practice, Verbatim
Theatre, became the ways of working within the supervisory commu-
nity of practice; “verbatim by its own volition is a collaboratively prac-
ticed phenomenon” (PI, McDonald, p. 5).
A key feature of practice-led research is triangulation; the incorpora-
tion of perspectives and data from multiple angles in order to validate
convergences in the research and corroborate findings. O’Toole (2006)
explains that triangulation in research ensures that the findings are plau-
sible, credible and transferable and Barbara Bolt (2007) advocates that
when research is triangulated in practice, reflection and theory the result
is “praxical knowledge” that can be “sustained beyond the particularity
of a practice to contribute to the broader knowledge economy” (p. 34).
The findings have been embodied through practice, analysed in reflec-
tion and informed by, while also informing, theory. This emphasis on
triangulation and the valuing of multiple perspectives emerged within
Janet and Sarah’s community of practice on multiple levels. Firstly there
is the triangulation between the supervisor, the student and the practice,
and secondly between the supervisory team, the praxical knowledge and
221
the communities within which they interact. This interaction with com-
munity means that the praxical knowledge is constantly being shared
with and influenced by the community, it is “touching as many people
as possible” (PI, McDonald, p. 8), resulting in “real world” implications
and applications of the research findings.
“Traditional” Supervisor/Student Relationships:

Where We Began
Among the many different models of supervisory relationships, the one
that concerns us the most is when we see fellow colleagues embroiled in
a battle of wills between what the supervisor and student want to pur-
sue. The one model we wanted to avoid was where the supervisor wants,
if not demands, that their own research (style and publishing) procure
the bedrock of the research being proposed. In this “traditional” model,
the student may not be entirely erased but can be irrevocably damp-
ened by the desire to please the supervisor combined with the pressure
of honouring their scholarship deadlines. Immediately, a hierarchy
between “those with all the knowledge” and those without is established
and the fortress is maintained via the bending of wills and the disillu-
sion of innovation. At several junctions throughout our supervisory
journey, we discussed our awareness of not needing to ever adopt this
model which might lead us to a kind of pedagogic barrenness in our
relationship.
For us, this is a monstrous exploitation of the Socratic Method. This
model should primarily be at the service of asking and answering ques-
tions to stimulate new thinking. It is a relational method that takes
place between supervisor and student where the assumed elder aims to
question the student in order to elucidate moments of contradiction in
their argument. By doing so, it assumes a critical stance is developed by
the student who is then required to redefine and interrogate their ideas
to increase their defensibility. The intention of this method is to illumi-
nate what is unfounded assumption and what is demonstrative knowl-
edge. In this paradigm, the key method of function is discourse, to draw
out assumption and inconsistencies in logic. Socrates understood this as
222
a maieutic (meaning midwife) activity which “conducts a leading of the

body to deliver a new life… leading the mind to deliver a new idea”
(Fortunoff, 1998, p. 1). Although the method might aim for balance,
it is chiefly a revelatory process that insists on a hierarchy where knowl-
edge is “passed along” through debate. At best, this is a sound model for
succession-planning of specific knowledge fields, at worst, knowledge
remains privileged and something that is exchanged (and measured-out)
rather than discovered.
When Sarah and Janet began to discuss the shape, scope and focus
of the Ph.D. project back in 2012 this kind of discourse was integral to
testing assumptions and opening apertures on what could be achieved
across a three-year research project. Sarah remembers clearly our very
first meeting:
I remember coming in going, “I’m going to do all this” and you provided
some critical questions for me and I went from sitting like this [look-
ing relaxed]…. To putting my feet up on the couch, and closed off….
“I’m going to come in and I’m going to totally impress Janet with how
prepared I am…. And she’s just going to love the idea because I love the
idea!”…. you [Janet] were forced into the role of “I’m just going to need
to rein you in a little…” (PI, Peters, pp. 3–4)
The exchange lasted a few hours and both of us were highly sensitive to
not wanting to damage any long term relationship; so we used a lot of
laughter at this first meeting to reflect on our assumptions as we already
knew each other from Sarah’s Master’s dissertation and also her work
as an undergraduate at USQ. We enthusiastically used the Socratic
Method as our starting place given the context of a “PhD supervision”,
for it is as Socrates understood it to be, a way to weed out the student
that is not genuine nor passionate. This method is designed strategically
to produce “…a more valuable and durable student in the long run …
since his [sic] successful students will be able to carry over the process of
open inquiry after human Good and Excellence beyond the immediate
occasion of any particular dialogue…” (Fortunoff, 1998, p. 1) and this
is what Janet intended for Sarah; a place for us to anchor our b eginning.
We were mindful of the pitfalls and also conscious of the fact that
223
we are both poststructuralists at heart. We share a similar belief in the

deferment of meaning, that is, that what we “know” is likely to change
dependent upon any number of variables that emerge from the develop-
ment and creation of new performance (practice-led) work. Upon recol-
lection we needed to begin here so that we could re-establish our shared
values and beliefs about how it is that we work collaboratively. This
needed to be externalised and honestly discussed through dialogue in
order to balance-out what we both were going to bring to this research
project.
We acknowledge that our particular Ph.D. journey was also highly
personal; particularly as the practice-led project was going to explore
Sarah’s own experience of Alopecia. Janet had to resist unintentionally
dampening Sarah’s enthusiasm for her project, but at the same time,
wanted to ensure that this was more than a therapeutic mechanism for
her; the knowledge and practice had to be valid and authentically con-
tributing to the field of Verbatim Theatre. This was a possible “elephant
in the room” that needed to be expressly and honestly discussed before
we could start any further development of the work. As the supervi-
sor, Janet believed that this could have become a contentious issue if
it were not literally revealed, and this was one of the rare times when
Janet asserted a traditional “supervisory intent” by establishing that
her level or experience gave her permission to broach a very personal
topic. We chose to begin with the Socratic Dialogue simply because it
was the way to acknowledge the difference in experience between us
and engage the model as promoting discourse about “why” do this pro-
ject as practice-led. The ensuing discourse ultimately framed the mean-
ing-making potential of the research and allowed for the formulation
of early research questions and illumination of “holes” to be filled by
the enquiry. The student and supervisor roles are clearly defined within
this model and we were mindful of this as a dialogic method and tried
to avoid any transactional approach that might “deposit” knowledge
from the “master” to the recipient which privileges the master’s nar-
rative over the student. We were, therefore, looking for opportunities
to widen aspects of this dialogue to allow for Sarah to take control
of the making aspects that are so necessary to practice-led projects,
to begin the creation of artefacts that exemplify and are central to
224
emerging new knowledge. While Socratic Dialogue was essential in illu-

minating what we were not saying (assumptions, biases, values), it was
not going to be enough to sustain the scope of Sarah’s research project.
Freire: Let’s Transform

Practice-led research by its very nature is about applying ideas in real-
time through praxis, frequently analysing “live” data and having it
immediately affect the continuing work. It is necessarily critical, where
previous knowledge is tested and new knowledge emerges as the prac-
tice proceeds. Within this dynamic methodology, the Socratic Dialogue
begins to become redundant as the supervisor becomes less of an
“expert”, and more of a facilitating co-conspirator, observing and input-
ting to the emerging work at irregular intervals. This juncture in the
project became a subtle hand-over to Sarah as the artist and researcher,
who began to create and innovate work in the field; not just new knowl-
edge, but the practice to accompany the thinking. In our experience,
it was the data gathering stages where the relationship greatly changed
to one of two people making discoveries and having discussions about
these. There was an inordinately greater measure of trust that grew in
order to develop a contract for transparency with each other about the
work:
…the transformational effect of the practice led stuff which sometimes

inverts and subverts and changes and raises issues that you had no idea …
[it] can be really well guided by your literature but until you start prac-
tising – doing it… you make these connections that you would never
thought of… and you’re taking a risk there too as supervisor because you
know as much as we’re in…your office and facilitating… I’m out [some-
where] doing my practice… (PI, McDonald & Peters, p. 6)
The role of supervisor was absolutely reframed as an activated resource

that guided and collaborated to help realise the powerful knowledge
being created. For Janet, it was hard to “sit on her hands” and encour-
age Sarah to simply do the work in the field, trusting Sarah to fall over
225
if she needed to, and then supporting her to get back up again: “it was
scary the amount of trust you had in me, and so I never wanted that
faith to be unjustified” (PI, Peters, p. 16). The adoption of a Freirian
approach was used to lessen the dependence that could have emerged
between Sarah and Janet during the Socratic stage. We had to navi-
gate this so that the relationship and project did not stagnate, but was
stretched and deepened through critical engagement.
When Sarah’s data gathering at multiple research sites began, we
noticed that the dialogue-based educational approach proposed by
Paulo Freire (1986) was what we were engaging in as an organic pro-
gression from the Socratic Method. Essentially, it may perform a sim-
ilar function to the former, however, instead of the potential for the
cultivation of privilege, Freire emphasises the style of exchange that is
transformative for both the student and teacher. Freire proposes dia-
logic methods that are about problem-solving in order to increase the
attributes of liberty and demolish status quos that are woefully unable
to illuminate oppression. The problem-solving method considers “the
teacher not as a person that transfers knowledge, but a person that per-
ceives together with students…the students carry out critical research
together with the teacher rather than being amenable listeners” (Freire
in Durakoglu, 2013, p. 104). An example of this in our practice was the
process of debriefing after practice,
Sarah goes out and talks to various people in the community,…writes up

the interview transcript comes with all this other knowledge and it’s just
wonderful to see her eyes popping out of your head going ‘oh my god I’ve
talked to this woman and she just blew me away’…but you’ve got some-
where to come and dump that’s safe…we then talk about and we decon-
struct. (PI, McDonald, pp. 10–11)
Debriefing was a practice that allowed us to “perceive together” and

carry out critical thinking and reflection that consciously debunks what
Freire called the “banking” concept of education (Freire in Durakoglu,
2013, p. 103). Janet “depositing” knowledge into Sarah’s memory bank
is not enough, rather we had to engage the more robust effort of trans-
forming Sarah (and Janet) as engaged negotiators of learning through
226
practice. Practice-led research demands a greater need for inductive data

gathering, that is, for procuring data that was not previously present nor
visible. The praxis components of the practice-led research project reso-
nates with Freire that it is a conscious action (Durakoglu, 2013, p. 104)
and that the act of knowing is related inextricably to lived experience
and the confrontation of/with these. In fact, “Debriefing” was most
effective when Sarah did NOT follow advice, but instead assimilated
and adapted ideas to “follow her gut instinct” on the inducement of
data. The realisation for Janet was to be reminded that her role was to
facilitate the practice, not DO her practice (PI, McDonald, p. 9). The
dialogue in this context is therefore jointly undertaken, and although
we began in Socratic Dialogue, the Freirian model is ultimately about
conscious transformation of not only the student/supervisor relation-
ship, but ALSO the participants in and audience of the artefacts cre-
ated through the research. Sarah describes the attitude that enables this
as “benevolence about ideas” (PI, Peters, p. 15) towards the knowledge
that helped her assemble frameworks for journaling in order to induce
richer data. Designing methods of practice that induce data allows for
discourse which anticipates the “how” of the project. The “how” cre-
ates a space of enquiry that moves beyond conversation to action. The
key difference between the methods of Socrates and those of Freire is
that the latter champions participation and action as necessary libera-
tory practices for the extension and enhancement of lived-knowledge.
A Freirian approach freed us to have open discussion about the emerg-
ing work where Janet could “play dumb”—which is a very effective
strategy as it involves invoking a potent mix of facetiousness mixed with
challenge, much like what theatre-maker and political activist Augusto
Boal called “the joker” (1992, p. xxiv)—and ask what might be con-
sidered “impertinent” questions in order to elicit Sarah’s critique of her
emerging methods and ideas. The induction of data necessarily provided
a context for the generation of deliberate acts of turbulence where Janet
might attempt to seek clarity while pushing Sarah to indulge in deeper
understanding through translating her own observations into defending
aspects of her project and choices for the work. Difference of opinion
were then able to be “aired” within this “safe” context of questioning
227
that is one of the hallmarks of strategic, community-based theatre prac-

tice and theory (Boal, 1992).
Percolation, active realisation, and then more percolation, aids in
the discovery of a lexicon for the practice and this created a new path-
way to discuss the research (PI, Peters, p. 4). There is much more
outcome-making in practice-led research than the generation of a dis-
sertation; although this written articulation of knowledge is central
to what constitutes a Ph.D.. Yet, the activation and creation of other
artefacts no doubt deepens the rich contemplation of knowledge as it
is realised and transformed in practice. Freire’s work certainly acknowl-
edges the role of praxis as central to engagement and transformation
of social and knowledge capitals (Smith, 1997, p. 3). In a practice-led
framework, the methods are constantly evolving to suit the needs of
the research (Meyer, 2001; Ortlipp, 2008) as new ideas are applied,
tested and reflected. “And it’s really that series of those three things
ongoing over a period of time that makes it… a living thing and quite
often greater than the sum of its parts” (PI, McDonald, p. 5). It is not
a matter of making a choice at the outset of the research and adher-
ing uncompromisingly to that approach across the duration of the
research. Sarah was encouraged to “develop and decide your mecha-
nisms and strategies and ways of working” (PI, Peters, p. 8), but “inside
of that is free enough and constrained enough” (PI, McDonald, p. 9)
to be emergent, interactive and embodied, three qualities of the prac-
tice-led methodology (Stock, 2000). “Sometimes they are not strat-
egies that are hard and fast, they emerge from the work and they are
enabled from the process that you put in place” (PI, McDonald, p.
12). Choosing to work within a living research project is a risky busi-
ness; we were committing to be constantly on the “threshold of step-
ping forward all the time” (PI, McDonald, p. 11), and often into an
unknown: “why would I want to maintain the status quo? I want my
students to be better than me… just staying at my level is not enough
to get through” (PI, McDonald, pp. 8–9). So moving from Socratic to
Freirian Dialogue helped us to better articulate our organically devel-
oping supervisory relationship through praxis and deliberate turbu-
lence, however it still was not enough to contain the immense amount
228
of experimentation and innovation taking place. Which “occurs on the

borders between [our] different communities of practice… like that
[of ] liminality… yes, you’re in that threshold of stepping forward all
the time” (PI, Peters & McDonald, p. 11). Based on these realisations
we discovered our practice had firm anchors in Etienne Wenger’s social
learning space; a community of practice.
Wenger and Supervisory Communities

of Practice
Etienne Wenger’s ongoing work around social learning spaces and com-
munities of practice are essentially where our dialogues took the super-
visor/student relationship. We feel that, in true Freierian liberation,
we went a long way to dissolving the traditional hierarchy between
supervisor/student because the practice-led methods demanded
hands-on praxis that were enhanced through our shared field/
knowledge/training in theatre and performance analysis. It should
be stated that we had different roles in practice at this stage of the
research: Janet’s practice was that of facilitation and reflection and was
not engaged in any of the making of the products, while Sarah’s prac-
tice rigorously engaged with the making, reflecting, producing and
writing aspects of the research. We nonetheless created a social learn-
ing space that we would define as a community of practice, because
of the reliance upon and indelibility of practice in the research. As
Wenger laments, terms like “practice” and “experience” can be associ-
ated with poor academic rigour (2009, p. 3) and there is little doubt
that the entire field of practice-led research in the creative arts has
faced major scrutiny in the past 10 years. Nonetheless, we agreed that
this Ph.D. was in the business of creating new knowledge; knowledge
that lives in the experience of practice which must make our methods
especially sensitive to rigorous critical review. Wenger states clearly that
social learning spaces are specifically susceptible to knowledge as a prac-
tice that engages accountability and expressibility (pp. 3–4). Experience
is the glue that renders these effective in creating an identity for all
229
participants and for the emerging knowledge-field; identity being at

the very core of one’s own self-awareness of “their very beings…as vehi-
cles for learning” (Wenger, 2009, p. 4). “It is the shared experience that
serves as the main communication resource. Only then can participants
start exploring what they know, what they don’t know, what they only
half-know, and what they could learn together” (Wenger, 2009, p. 5).
The experience and practice of the research project itself was reflected
and mirrored in our emerging community of practice, and it is here
where we perceived differences in our journey from Socratic Dialogue to
Wenger’s social-learning spaces.
Wenger states that high levels of mutual expressibility and accounta-
bility are achieved through the recognition of participants (in this case
the beginning participation of the supervisor and student) as learning
partners who experience what they both bring to the learning space
(2009). “Lived-in practice requires a lot of trust” (Wenger, 2009, p. 5)
and so the effective way to begin to procure, manage and nourish our
community/ies of practice was to be open to the “vulnerability inherent
in opening the door of reflection on the messiness of practice” (p. 5).
Sarah and Janet essentially became co-participants, understanding each
other beyond our roles as student and supervisor (PI, Peters, p. 12),
extending our learning partnership into that of a community of practice
beyond the confines of the Ph.D. doctorate to include co-participation
in teaching teams, workshop development and other research projects.
In relation to practice-led methodology, we were able to expand our
triangulation beyond the insular supervisor/student/practice, to create
multiple triangulations between us and others. Triangulation used in the
induction of data and “verbatim” knowledge from participants begets
the greater and more effective manifestation of what Wenger states as a
“landscape of practice” (2010, pp. 3–4) where the tendrils of decisions
made in action can be observed and used by others not just those in
the initial learning partnership. Wenger’s theories, therefore, are able
to supply us with a solid set of discussions about social-learning spaces
that best articulate the “genuine interactions among participants, who
can bring to the learning table both their experience of practice and
their experience of themselves in that practice” (Wenger, 2009, p. 3).
230
Our triangulated community of practice meant that we could share

artefacts created within the research project with the broader commu-
nity, such as Sarah’s development of teacher professional development
resources on Verbatim Theatre. The knowledge is shared in this broader
landscape beyond the initial partnership, and through this sharing is
tested, reformed and ultimately strengthened. Without the transition to
a community of practice, and the trust, vulnerability and genuine inter-
action that is inherent in this model, we may not have had these oppor-
tunities to fortify our emerging knowledges.
Research Findings Influencing

Our Community of Practice
One of Sarah’s key findings of Verbatim Theatre practice is to suggest
that the interview context be understood as a site of mutual perfor-
mance, where the recorded stories are co-authored by both the artist
and the storyteller. The interview context reflects Cheryl Stock’s (2000)
description of practice-led research as it is “not only relational but
emergent, interactive and embodied” (p. 5). The practice of interview-
ing in a VT process is responsive (emergent) as the artist acknowledges
the energy and dramatic action of the other, it is dialogic (interactive)
as both parties make contributions towards the content and structure
of the experiences shared and the stories told, and it requires physi-
cal presence (is embodied). Our supervisory community of practice
reflects these qualities, and across the Ph.D. we have collaboratively
created conceptual artefacts within the practice of the supervision. One
of the most significant conceptual artefacts is our creation of a land-
scape of practice, “there’s several communities and they all exist inside
this landscape” (PI, McDonald, p. 11). Sarah and Janet share in their
work community and interact as colleagues as they both teach within
various courses. They share a community of friends and exist in a per-
sonal community. We “traverse across those different communities” and
“it is the ability to see the links and the threads that combine all those
communities of practice” (PI, Peters, p. 11), and the porous borders
231
between them that results in innovative and unique collaborations in

practice and contributions to the field of research. This porosity also
requires the previously mentioned attributes of a community of prac-
tice outlined by Wenger; trust, vulnerability and mutual participation.
We also discovered that resilience is a core way of working in our com-
munity of practice, “building up the resilience to be able to take con-
structive criticism is such an important role…be able to really take i(t),
genuinely and give it genuinely” (PI, McDonald, p. 17). Self-awareness,
genuine and critical collaboration, benevolence across a landscape
of practice and knowing how to identify a context and our role and
expectations within it enabled a successful supervisory community of
practice.
Sarah and Janet have diagnosed their own practice as being in the
realm of what Wenger constitutes as “Social Artists” because “[e]nabling
social learning spaces is an art” (2009, p. 10). Wenger argues that
the artistry is connected to how social artists use learning spaces to
change the way “we experience the world and ourselves”, as this can
be a rare and unique phenomenon. A key ability of the social artist is
to be adept at embracing paradoxes in the learning space: to be social
yet intentional, collaborative yet wilful, idealistic yet pragmatic. The
above description of the unfolding communities of practice that have
evolved or been affected by this research project are still emerging even
as the research project draws closer to its final due dates. In some cases,
they have been planned and others resemble “pop-ups” that appear for
short bursts of need and then merge or disappear. Wenger’s paradoxes
honestly acknowledge the very complex nature of the social learning
space that evolves into a far wider “landscape of practice”; it is dynamic
and often contradictory which encourages transformation of knowl-
edge through practice. It is hard to teach, as Wenger states “It is not a
technique…that can be reduced to skills…It has to do with the heart as
well as the mind…it has to do with the person, with identity as a social
resource” (p. 11). Although there are strategies that we have identified
throughout this paper, we believe it is also crucial to acknowledge that
there are interpersonal attributes that influence the success of a supervi-
sory relationship.
232
Recommendations: A Kind of Conclusion

In conclusion, we acknowledge that some strategies are distinctively
linked with a practice-led context. The transformational aspects of devel-
oping not only new knowledge but also a new artefact (different from the
writing of the thesis) are indelibly about action, reflection, percolation,
repeat. These “making” aspects are central to acquiring methods of gath-
ering authentic and valid data sets over time. This requires significant
time management and an ability for both supervisor and student to be
simultaneously inside the making and outside in enhancing the mak-
ing through reflection and feedback. Our Socratic dialogue of hierarchy
dissolved into a Freirian critical dialogue that could manifest change in
order to assist in this process of inducement. This, ultimately in terms
of the greater context of “theatre practice” in which Sarah and Janet
work, cannot be effectively completed within a supervisor and student
unit; it takes a community to bring it all together. This “community of
practice” is therefore most visible where the research knowledge is gen-
erated through actual practice. Our dialogical strategies morphed into
a larger community/ies of practice that could not have existed without
the managed creation of artefacts; the practice-led context of the research
was therefore a key strategy for enlightening our supervisory relationship
through dialogism towards a landscape of practice.
What does this mean for the supervisory team who are not under-
taking practice-led research? We also want to offer our summary of
what our experience might offer any supervisory relationship. Although
supervisory relationships and teams should organically emerge from
the needs and structures of the emerging research, what we aim to offer
are some key ideas to stimulate critical reflection and informed action
for those embarking on a research and supervisory journey. We recom-
mend the learning partnership use a Socratic approach to engage ini-
tially in aspirational thinking about the potential for the research to be
transformational, and to disclose what they want to aspire to from the
supervisory process. In this way, assumptions and biases can be brought
to the fray and laid bare for challenging. From this, we suggest that an
aspirational but intentional dialogue between supervisor and student
occurs in order to establish how the supervisory unit might create its
233
own social learning system that is flexible, changeable and malleable

(PI, Peters, p. 17). By definition of being a system, it expands beyond
the confines of the research project. It is vital that during the Ph.D. the
student and supervisor are curating broader social learning systems that
provide opportunities for further research, future collaborations, con-
nections with other communities, “not seeing this as a three year gig…
setting up the identity of the research or the identity of the researcher
or artist or practitioner beyond” (PI, Peters, p. 18). This is an important
undertaking in order to realise any further potential of community/ies
of practice that can assist in making the research truly authentic, inno-
vative and applicable in a broader context.
Discuss teaching, marking, supervising undergraduate students,
attending conferences and strategies for enhancing on-boarding or
buy-in from luminaries or informants outside the supervisory team
to guide and provide input to the project. We believe that this may
rarely be undertaken at the beginning of the supervisory journey, and
strongly encourage this kind of aspirational thinking as to how one’s
research may affect the creation of further knowledge. In this way, the
supervisory relationship has a greater idea of its efficacy for undertaking
research that might challenge traditional styles of supervision in a par-
ticular field.
We have identified that there are certain qualities in both the super-
visor and the student that enhance the supervisory relationship. The
supervisory team should consider how a supervisor can be a transla-
tor of knowledge, potentially being outside the student’s own field,
but with the ability to share and explore the porosity of the borders
of relevant fields. Benevolence, wonder and a genuine curiosity that
will encourage the student to go further than she thought possible are
key attributes for the supervisor. The student should balance auton-
omy and dependence, expecting critical guidance and advice, but also
assimilating concepts and generating new ideas; entering into a con-
tract of dialogue that critiques the dialogue. Together, the supervisory
team and students need to negotiate a level of comfort with uncertainty
(turbulence), practice being humble in recognition of all that is yet to
be learned and take responsibility (and ownership) for the knowledge
being created. Don’t forget, if the supervisory relationship can and does
234
expand into a community of practice, acknowledge that this is a living

and evolving artefact, constantly in a state of “becoming”. Just as we
have outlined how the discourse and actions of practice-led research
are inherent in our community of practice, we encourage other learn-
ing teams to consider how the research itself creates its own lexicon and
methodologies that can, in turn, inform and shape your own supervi-
sory practice.
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13
Looking for, Learning from and Finally
Becoming the Voice of Experience:
A Communities of Practice Perspective
on the Doctoral Journey
Aastha Malhotra
Introduction
The view that the doctoral journey can be complex and isolating
in nature is well-established (Grover, 2007; Wisker, Robinson, &
Shasham, 2007). While universities may have standardised administra-
tive and programme guidelines in place, the individual motivation, atti-
tude and ability of each student combined with a diverse range of topic
areas and research methods can make following the process in a regu-
lated and pre-determined way a near impossible task. This causes sig-
nificant tension and ambiguity for candidates. Within this context, the
role of a Community of Practice (CoP), or a group of people who are
brought together because of similar problems, shared concerns or pas-
sion for what they do and a desire to do it better through interaction,
A. Malhotra (*)
School of Health and Wellbeing, Faculty of Health,
Engineering & Sciences, University of Southern Queensland,
Ipswich, QLD, Australia
e-mail: Aastha.Malhotra@usq.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_13
238
A. Malhotra
has been recognised for its potential to enhance educational experi-

ences (cf. Graven, 2004; Leshem, 2007; Shacham & Od-Cohen, 2009;
Zimitat, 2007). Noted advantages include emotional support, motiva-
tion, feedback on work-in-progress, platforms for critical dialogue as
well as access to information about conferences and publication oppor-
tunities (Leshem, 2007; Wisker et al., 2007).
I reflect retrospectively in this chapter on my personal doctoral jour-
ney at a highly ranked university in Queensland and on my participa-
tion in an informal CoP. I draw on an autoethnographic approach to
describe and reflect on my past personal experience (cf. Freeman, 2004;
Ellis & Bochner, 2000) using four stages that align with the adminis-
trative guidelines of the university’s doctoral programme. The stages
can be considered as lying on a continuum. The first three stages link
with the distinct stages of candidature (Confirmation, Mid-Candidature
and Final Thesis Review respectively) and are termed as “milestones”.
The milestones serve as an indicator of academic development of the
candidate, including oral and written skills, and facilitate institutional
requirements such as resource allocation and assurance of quality
research. Each milestone comprises written work, an oral presentation
and an opportunity for dialogue with the student, following which
feedback is provided and a formal recommendation is made about the
attainment of the milestone (University of Queensland, 2015). The
fourth and last stage sheds light on the final hurdle of the doctoral
process: the external examination and final submission.
My reflection reveals that, while the administrative guidelines were
important measures of my progress against the institutional require-
ments, it was my evolving participation in the CoP that increased my
confidence. My progress from being the ‘newbie’ to becoming the one
supporting others by sharing my knowledge and experiences served as
an indicator of my growth as a researcher as I advanced through the dif-
ferent doctoral stages. I use the term “confidence”, not in a cognitive
sense (or to denote internalised knowledge per se), but instead drawing
on the work of Graven (2004) by adopting the perspective that confi-
dence is a part of learning by “experiencing, doing, being, and belong-
ing” (p. 179). I juxtapose my progression against existing research into
the dynamic nature of participation and learning in a CoP and the
13 Looking for, Learning from and Finally …
239
doctorate journey. My observations resonate closely with the work of

scholars who have noted phenomena such as changing levels of par-
ticipation within a CoP (cf. Wenger & Snyder, 2000; see also Borzillo,
Aznar, & Schmitt, 2011) and varying “learning trajectories” of new-
comers and old-timers (cf. Lave & Wenger, 1991), as well as their sig-
nificance for a member’s skill and knowledge development. Figure 13.1
captures these milestones and summarises my reflections, which are also
the essence of this retrospective analysis.
My reflection contributes in two ways. Firstly, it adds credence to
the value of embracing Communities of Practice (CoPs) in d octoral
programmes, and also acknowledges it as a useful frame through
Doctoral Enrolment to Confirmation to Mid-candidature Final Thesis
Program Confirmation Mid-candidature Review to Final Review to Final
Stages Review Thesis Review Submission
Reflection on Feeling Feeling like All about Handing over

my PhD Invisible an Impostor Strategizing the Baton
Journey
Peripheral Active Core Marginal

Some Participation Participation Participation Participation
Participation Little Regular Highly and Exit
Perspectives participation participation in engaged Nominal
with a focus on but not as participation engagement
Eg. Wenger et superficial active as core including with little
al., 2000 & practice members sharing know- contribution n
Borzillo et. al, development how and followed by
tasks developing leaving the
knowledge group
Some Learning
Newcomers Old-timers
Perspectives
Participating in basic and novice Moving towards ‘full-participation’
Eg. Lave and
tasks to develop knowledge and because of enhanced knowledge
Wenger, 1991&
expertise and expertise
Fontaine, 2001
Fig. 13.1 Juxtaposing my doctoral journey against CoP participation and learn-
ing frameworks
240
A. Malhotra
which to view the doctoral journey. Secondly, the chapter sheds light
on the dynamic and nuanced nature of CoPs themselves by taking into
account an individual’s increase in confidence and personal growth as a
researcher while she or he is a part of a CoP. This remains an under-rec-
ognised outcome within the field (Graven, 2004; Wilding, Curtin, &
Whiteford, 2012).
Communities of Practice and the Doctorate

Journey
The literature varies widely in defining a CoP. Wenger, McDermott, and
Snyedr (2002) suggest CoPs are, ‘groups of people who share a concern,
a set of problems, or a passion about a topic, and who deepen their
knowledge and expertise in this area by interacting on an ongoing basis’
(p. 4). Wenger (2007) also clarifies the nature of these communities by
stating the attributes that distinguish them from other groups as being:
domain (or a mutual interest that connects together the community);
community (a group that is held together by the shared activities such
as meetings and discussions related to the domain); and practice (what
they do informs their participation in the community and vice versa).
The roots of CoPs can however be found in the work of Lave and
Wenger (1991) who introduced and explored the dynamics between
experienced and inexperienced CoPs participants, placing the experi-
ences within the context of situated learning (Koliba & Gajda, 2009).
A key underlying message is that learning and participation are closely-
intertwined: that a member is a newcomer at first but owing to the
enhanced learning and in turn, increased legitimacy (which takes place
through participation in shared activities and interpersonal relationships
within the community) their involvement gradually increases in engage-
ment and complexity and results in increased participation.
Learning is considered as an ‘integral and inseparable aspect of social
practice’ which involves the construction of identity through chang-
ing forms of participation in CoPs (Lave & Wenger, 1991, p. 53).
They draw some parallels with the concept of peer learning which is
deemed to be a two-way learning activity that involves give and take
241
among ‘networks of learning relationships, among students and signif-

icant others’ (Boud & Lee, 2005, p. 503). They suggest that individual
learning should be thought of as emergent, involving opportunities to
participate in the practices of the community as well as the development
of an identity which provides a sense of belonging and commitment
(Handley, Sturdy, Fincham, & Clark, 2006).
Participation refers to the variations in the degree of the engagement
of participants which is in turn, dependent on the level of knowledge
and familiarity with the community. The literature suggests distinct
qualifiers that explain the participation process and engagement levels
with and within the community (Fontaine, 2001; McDermott, 2004;
Wenger, 1998; Wenger et al., 2002). These qualifiers include:
Peripheral participation—Newcomers who are relatively inexperienced

and permitted to participate to a limited extent in simple, relatively
discrete tasks and relationships.
Active participation—Participants who are more involved than periph-
eral members, attend numerous meetings and take part in discussions
but not as frequently as full or core members.
Full or Core participation—Old timers who are recognised for their
competencies, enhanced expertise and participate very actively or at
the core of the community.
Marginal—Participants who remain or are kept on the fringes of the
community.
Establishment of such groups has been linked to the identification of

areas or issues of value to potential members, but it is also interesting
to note that members may not explicitly realise that they are indeed a
part of a ‘community of practice’ (Wenger, 1998). While many CoPs
involve activities where members meet in person, for example, meet-
ings and small group discussions (cf. Wenger et al., 2002), recent years
have also seen the rise of the ‘virtual community of practice’ (VCoP)
(Dubé, Bourhis, & Jacob, 2005) and the ‘mobile community of prac-
tice’ (MCoP) (Kietzmann et al., 2013). VCoPs and MCoPs offer online
and mobile-based collaboration opportunities, for example, discussion
groups and online forums.
242
A. Malhotra
The value of CoPs has been widely noted in the literature. While
some authors focus on the aspect of learning through sharing informa-
tion and experiences, increased opportunities for personal and profes-
sional development and improved on-the-job skills (cf. Lave & Wenger,
1991; Seely Brown & Duguid, 1991), others highlight its value as a
dynamic tool for transferring knowledge (cf. Young & Mitchell, 2003).
Still, others argue that it can strengthen participants and facilitate a
more confident and autonomous practice (Wilding et al., 2012). These
attributes are being increasingly recognised in the context of the educa-
tional experiences in general (cf. Graven, 2004; Zimitat, 2007) and spe-
cifically the doctoral student experience (cf. Leshem, 2007; Shacham &
Od-Cohen, 2009). Scholars acknowledge CoPs potential for emotional
support, disseminating knowledge, providing a collaborative workplace
and opportunities for feedback as well as improving productivity. The
value of such communities or groups is further strengthened by the
‘networking, meeting people in similar areas. Encouragement from
others, particularly at times when the “going seems tough”’ (Morton
& Thornley, 2001, p. 122). Participation that mitigates ‘isolation from
other graduate students or from scholars in the field’ (p. 132) can be
beneficial and can improve the graduate experience for students.
A CoP—Study Buddy
My involvement within a CoP was through an informal study group
during my Doctoral studies. Started by two other students, the CoP was
initially a coffee meeting once a week which provided an opportunity to
catch-up, talk about research and discuss issues. The group soon grew in
popularity and in membership, mostly by word-of-mouth. The mem-
bers came up with a name, Study Buddy, and in an attempt to make
the catch-ups more regular and easier to attend, decided to meet every
Monday. Over time, the group also embraced virtual modes of engage-
ment including Skype calls for members who were away or travelling
and a closed Facebook group where members could list their achieve-
ments for the past week as well as goals and pot-holes for the upcoming
one if they were unable to attend the meeting in person. The aim was to
243
articulate our goals for the week and identify any challenges that mem-
bers were or anticipated experiencing. The group members would then
help each other deal with the challenges and celebrate achievements.
Enrolment to Confirmation—Feeling Invisible

I joined the CoP in my first few months as a Doctoral student and
was working towards the first milestone of Confirmation. Students
are expected to achieve this in the first 12–18 months and the attain-
ment is based on a written document summarising the research topic,
oral presentation and an interview with a panel. The panel comprises
of two readers and a chair. The milestone serves as an opportunity to
communicate the research project to peers as well as to get feedback
regarding the proposed research questions and methodology (University
of Queensland, 2015). As such, while I had a research topic in mind
I spent time exploring relevant literature and refining the research
questions. The majority of my days were spent alone reading through
numerous journal articles and other relevant publications in my office
and attending research-related seminars and meetings.
The process was overwhelming and while the research-seminars were
useful, listening to the discussions among the experienced academics
was often quite intimidating. Indeed their passionate arguments about
different epistemological and ontological perspectives when I was still
learning, what the terms meant sounded more advanced than I would
ever be! I always sat right at the back avoiding eye contact for the fear of
someone asking me a question. I joined the CoP in an effort to combat
the isolation and get some support.
In my initial weeks, I tended to keep quiet most of the time but lis-
tened carefully when some of the more experienced members spoke.
Observing these interactions allowed me to pick up tips on navigating
the policies and procedures, conducting a literature review and man-
aging my relationships with my supervisors. Sometimes others would
express their frustrations in what we called ‘venting sessions’ and even
these insights were valuable as I was able to anticipate possible pot-
holes. For example, I became aware of the difficulty of scheduling senior
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A. Malhotra
people for interviews and designed my data collection in a way that I

was able to set-up my interviews three months in advance. My learning
during this time was therefore very much like peer-learning or vicarious
learning in that it was dependent on my close contact with other mem-
bers and their experiences (Lévesque, Minniti, & Shepherd, 2009).
The nature of my participation tended to be peripheral (Wenger,
1998). Being relatively inexperienced, I identified with being a ‘new-
comer’ and my main concern, similar to other peripheral members as
noted in the literature was that my contribution would not be appropri-
ate (Wenger et al., 2002). In subsequent months, I was also able to iden-
tify CoP members whose research and methodology interests aligned
with mine and even requested them to share their dreaded ‘confirmation
document’ so that I could get some idea of what was expected from me!
As a result, even though my involvement was quite limited I was still
able to benefit from the CoP by finding out who was working on what
and contacting appropriate members when needed (McDermott, 2004).
Confirmation to Mid-Candidature Review:

Feeling Like an Impostor
I was able to successfully attain the first milestone and moved into the
second stage of my candidature which is the period between the confir-
mation and the mid-candidature review. Expected to be 12–18 months
from the confirmation, this milestone requires that a major por-
tion of the research should have been completed (University of
Queensland, 2015). Draft chapters are submitted and students are able
to get feedback on data collection processes and research methodology
rigour among other areas (University of Queensland, 2015).
This phase for me was marked by feelings similar to those identi-
fied by Clance and Imes (1978) as being an ‘impostor’. According to
the authors, this phenomenon occurs when despite external evidence
of their competence, people are unable to internalise their accomplish-
ments—they consider themselves to be fake and underserving of suc-
cess. I identified with these feelings as while I had successfully met the
administrative requirements of the milestone—that is my confirmation,
245
I faced constant self-doubt and lacked confidence. This in turn ham-

pered my thesis progress as I had started to refine the theoretical frame-
work that formed the basis of my research, formulate the interview
protocols and identify and contact potential case studies.
My role within the CoP however helped me challenge these feel-
ings as I had been elevated to the status of a ‘confirmed candidate’. As
a result, while I still looked up to some of the more advanced members,
the new Doctoral students started to ask me questions about the con-
firmation process and how I had prepared for it. My ability to answer
their questions and draw on my experiences to support them affirmed
my own learning and served as an invaluable source of validation. I had
numerous moments where I would think ‘Oh my God! Did I just say
that! I do know stuff!’ and surprise myself. The nature of my participa-
tion also changed—it became more active and I not only made an effort
to attend meetings or post on the Facebook group but also contributed
regularly to discussions (McDermott, 1999; Wenger et al., 2002). This
was a refreshing change from being a ‘newbie’! I felt that my views could
be useful for others and wanted to help. These feelings are consistent
with previous findings where one of the motivations for active partici-
pation is that members consider knowledge as a public good or a moral
obligation (Ardichvili, Page, & Wentling, 2003; Wasko & Faraj, 2000).
The resulting increase in confidence also had a positive impact on
other areas of my work. I felt more comfortable talking to industry
experts about my research, approaching relevant people at network-
ing events and initiating discussions asking them to participate in
my Doctoral research. This spill-over was similar to the phenomenon
observed by (Wenger et al., 2002) where less involved members use
their CoP experience to inform other parts of their life and work.
Mid-Candidature Review to Final Thesis

Review—All About Strategizing
The third and last milestone prior to final submission is the Final Thesis
Review. This milestone decides if the student has a thesis that can be
submitted. As such, the attainment is dependent on the submission
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A. Malhotra
and quality of a near complete thesis and an oral presentation that is

open to attendance by anyone interested. The student is able to receive
feedback in order to refine the content and structure before the thesis
can be sent for external final examination (University of Queensland,
2015).
This stage of my journey was probably the most demanding owing
to tasks such as consolidating the data analysis, writing up detailed case
descriptions and working out how it all fit together into one cohesive
document. It is important to note that while these tasks required me
to possess technical skills (for example, using appropriate qualitative
software) I also used other skills and strategies with much more rigour,
including those pertinent to writing effectively, time management and
coping with stress.
During this time, my engagement with other members moved away
from simply ‘giving or getting advice’ and to discussions. While earlier
I only answered questions and sometimes shared my experiences, I now
began to share my strategies with other members as well. For exam-
ple, during one of my conversations with other qualitative researchers
(including two who had recently enrolled) about the ‘back and forth’
of data analysis, I realised that my methods chapter would benefit
greatly if I addressed the iterative nature of my research with more
transparency and detail. I presented my ideas to few members and it
not only helped the others to think about their research design but the
feedback helped me refine it further. I even used the resulting figure in
my thesis.
Akin to the observations of Zimitat (2007), the learning was now
going both ways—while the new members learned through interac-
tions with other members including the more experienced, the more
experienced are able to learn through the process of ‘teaching’ oth-
ers and interacting with other members. In other words, vicarious
learning (Lévesque et al., 2009) as mentioned earlier in the chapter
was occurring but instead of only me learning from participation
and the experience of others, the other CoP members were learning
from my experience too. These shifts also changed the nature of my
engagement within the CoP and I began to identify very much as an
old-timer.
247
Final Thesis Review to Submission: Handing

over the Baton
Towards the end of my candidature however, my involvement began to
wane. I was still a part of the community but the pressures of getting
the thesis ready for submission and looking for a job made contribut-
ing to the meetings very challenging. During this phase, I identified
with being a marginal member—that is while I was still involved in the
group it was nominal engagement. I would also like to mention that I
observed a similar transition in other members who were close to finish-
ing their candidature. Some of us even talked about starting a breakfast
club for post-doctoral fellows.
This dynamic nature of CoPs has been noted by numerous schol-
ars who deem such communities as fluid and evolutionary where new
members join and existing ones leave or even change their activity levels
at different times (McDermott, 2004; Roberts, 2006; Wenger, 1998).
Reasons for this can include work overload, departure to another com-
pany (or in this case finishing the role or moving to another university),
or job changes (or in this case withdrawal from a candidature (Borzillo
et al., 2011). Keeping in mind, the understanding that the life cycle of
a community is dependent on its continuing value to its members and
the presence of a ‘shared practice’ this phenomenon is natural. It is how-
ever important to note that rather than dying the CoP can ‘regenerate
its core group with new core members’ (Borzillo et al., 2011, p. 39).
While beyond the scope of this chapter, I would like to mention that
the Study Buddy did go through this process with a new group of mem-
bers taking over the community.
Limitations and Conclusions

There is no doubt that the doctoral process is a highly individualised one
that is further complicated by competing demands, multiple stressors and
significant ambiguity. The inherent lack of structure, and the emphasis on
practical, administrative and institutional requirements (such as narrowing
248
A. Malhotra
down the topic area, choosing a supervisor and delimiting methodological

approaches to research), mean that an understanding of “how the doctoral
student is doing as a budding researcher (or instructor) at their current
stage of the program” (Grover, 2007, p. 10) remains limited.
This chapter is based on a reflection on my personal journey, and
illustrates that being involved in a Cops may serve as a tool to map this
very growth of, and as, a researcher. In doing so, it provides a useful
frame through which to view the doctoral journey. The chapter also
brings to attention the dynamic and nuanced nature of CoPs by taking
into account an individual’s personal evolution while he or she is a part
of a CoP. In particular, it highlights the changing nature of learning and
participation as a student, and highlights the connection of COP’s with
increased levels of confidence, growth as a researcher and in turn suc-
cessful navigation of the doctoral process.
Two caveats require mention. Firstly, this chapter presents the journey
of only one student, which hampers the generalisibility of the findings
(Patton, 2002). It is, however, important to note that such narratives
also have the potential to provide rich and complex insights. Second,
CoPs are but one approach to learning and are “not a replacement for
other theories of learning that address different aspects of the problem”
(Wenger, 1998, p. 4). Others have also highlighted the perils of such
communities—for example, the possibility of controls, ego-trips, per-
sonal attacks, that they drain time and the existence of prevalent views
that ignore the possibilities of conflict, criticisms and oppression (Cox,
2005; Millen, Fontaine, & Muller, 2002; Wasko & Faraj, 2000).
These insights and caveats together, in my view, provide an impetus
for future researchers to examine the role of CoPs within the doctoral
context in more depth and breadth. For example, researchers could doc-
ument the experience of multiple students within one CoP, or students
across different universities, and compare and contrast their experiences.
Another useful area would be to examine how different CoP’s within
the same institution link with one another and what that means for the
student experience. Similarly, a longitudinal lens would also be benefi-
cial. This chapter is based on a retrospective analysis; researchers can use
the insights presented here to design a research project where data are
collected at multiple times during the candidature. Such research would
249
complement the content presented in this chapter and further contrib-

ute towards the body of knowledge that seeks to improve the graduate
experience for other students.
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14
Supervising at a Distance:
The Transformation of Assistance
during a Doctoral Journey across
Different Continents
Bernadita Justiniano, Teresa Mauri and Marc Clarà
Introduction: Assistance in Doctoral Supervision

In recent decades, increasing research has been devoted to the doc-
toral process (González-Ocampo & Castelló, 2019; McCallina &
Nayar, 2012; Zeegers & Barron, 2012). In this context, an emerging
line of research has focused on how the interaction between super-
visors and students works as a teaching and learning process (Can &
Walker, 2011; Kobayashi, Grout, & Rump, 2013; Yu & Lee, 2013).
This approach views doctoral supervision as a teaching process, and
therefore all the theoretical and analytical instrumentalities available for
B. Justiniano
Casa Grande University, Guayaquil, Ecuador
T. Mauri
University of Barcelona, Barcelona, Spain
M. Clarà (*)
Department of Psychology, University of Lleida, Lleida, Spain
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_14
254
B. Justiniano et al.
understanding teaching and learning processes at different ages and in

different contexts can be similarly used to understand what happens in
doctoral supervision.
One well-known explanatory framework of teaching–learning
phenomena is the Sociocultural Theory, which is largely based on
Vygotsky’s ideas (Daniels, 2001; Vygotsky, 1987; Wertsch, 1985).
At its core, there is the idea that people learn by collaborating with
other people. This idea is crucial in what Vygotsky calls the Zone of
Proximal Development (ZPD), which is defined by what the learner is
unable to do independently but can do with the assistance of another
person. Taking this main idea as a point of departure, a great deal
of research in education has been devoted to the study of the assis-
tance, provided by the other, that enables the learner to learn within
the ZPD (e.g., Coll, Onrubia, & Mauri, 2008; Smit, Van Eerde, &
Bakker, 2013; Van de Pol, Volman, & Beishuizen, 2010). This assis-
tance has been often called “scaffolding”, in reference to a metaphor
proposed by Wood, Bruner and Ross (1976), who propose that the
assistance in the ZPD works as if it were a scaffold: it is provided
only to sustain the learner’s construction of knowledge, and is with-
drawn when that knowledge is built. Educational research has high-
lighted three main characteristics of the assistance in the ZPD (van
de Pol et al., 2010). The first is contingency, meaning that assistance
is dynamically adjusted to the learner’s needs at each moment of the
learning process. The second is fading, meaning that if, in the global
learning process the learner advances towards autonomy, assistance is
progressively withdrawn. The third is transfer of responsibility, meaning
that, by contingently adjusting and fading assistance along the learn-
ing process, the teacher progressively transfers the responsibility
in (joint) activity to the learner, who progressively assumes greater
degrees of responsibility.
Some authors have used this framework to study the supervisory
process in doctoral programmes (e.g., Can & Walker, 2011; Yu &
Lee, 2013), but, as also happens in other areas of educational research,
most research on doctoral supervision focuses on describing the types
of assistance; that is, on constructing a typology of scaffolds. By con-
trast, in this chapter we are interested in studying the contingency
14 Supervising at a Distance: The Transformation …
255
of assistance; that is, how assistance is transformed during a complete

process of supervision, and how the nature of assistance is contingent
(how it adjusts) at each specific moment of the process. Studying the
contingency of assistance is a difficult task because contingency is very
much defined by the subjectivities of the participants: it is about what
the learner needs in a specific moment, what she thinks and feels that
she needs in that moment, how she understands and feels the moment
itself, how the supervisor understands and feels that same moment,
what the supervisor thinks and feels that the learner needs in that
moment, etc. In other words, the contingency of assistance can be
observed and considered only by observing and considering the subjec-
tivities of the participants. This is why autoethnography is an adequate
research method for this study.
An Autoethnographic Approach
As argued above, studying the contingency of assistance requires
detailed observation of the subjectivities (thoughts, feelings, hopes,
etc.) of the participants in the process. Autoethnography is a meth-
odological approach especially appropriate to do so. This approach
merges autobiography with ethnography and, according to Davies
(1999, p. 5), it “seek[s] to develop forms of research that fully
acknowledge and utilize subjective experience as an intrinsic part of
research”. Autoethnography is firmly based on the generation (writ-
ing) of a self-narrative which usually hinges on what Ellis, Adams,
and Bochner call “epiphanies”: “remembered moments perceived to
have significantly impacted the trajectory of a person’s life” (Ellis,
Adams, & Bochner, 2011, p. 3). There are two main traditions in
the autoethnographic approach: evocative autoethnography and ana-
lytic autoethnography (Anderson, 2006). Advocates of evocative
autoethnography (Ellis & Bochner, 2006) put more emphasis on the
fusion between science and art—ethnography and autobiography,
respectively—and argue that the self-narrative constitutes knowl-
edge in itself, regardless of the degree of exactitude of the facts it nar-
rates. In evocative autoethnography, the self-narrative is similar to
256
literary writing: its function is to engage the reader in the emotions,

actions and thoughts subjectively experienced and narrated by the
researcher, so that the reader can “experience an experience” (Ellis
& Bochner, 2006). Analysis is used in the construction of the self-
narrative, but the self-narrative itself constitutes the results and analysis
of the research and there is no additional analysis of the self-narrative
or theoretical construction or generalization from it. On the other
hand, analytic autoethnography is understood as a sub-type of ethnog-
raphy, that is, as a social science; therefore, analytic autoethnography
must meet the same basic standard methodological requirements as
ethnography. Three of these requirements, which distinguish analytic
from evocative autoethnography, are defined by Anderson (2006). First,
analytic autoethnography is “aimed to develop and refine generalized
theoretical understandings of social processes” (Anderson, 2006, p.
385). Second, and as a consequence of the first, the risk of self-absorp-
tion (the excessive centration on and from the self ) must be prevented
by triangulating the self-narrative with other informants participating
in the context and with events described in the self-narrative. Third, the
self-narrative constitutes data to be further analyzed, in order to “gain
insight into some broader set of social phenomena than those provided
by the data themselves” (Anderson, 2006, p. 387). The study reported
in this chapter adopted an analytic autoethnography approach, which
will be further detailed in the next section.
Method
Participants
In order to study the nature of the contingency (adjustment) of assis-

tance in doctoral supervision, we decided to conduct an analytic
autoethnographic study on the doctoral process in which the three
authors of this chapter have been jointly involved during a period of
approximately five years. Bernardita is a Chilean female doctoral stu-
dent who completed a two-year stay in Barcelona (2009–2011) on a
257
scholarship from Chile, and then returned to that country. During her
stay in Barcelona, she completed a master’s degree and began her doc-
toral dissertation, together with her two supervisors, Teresa and Marc.
After this beginning, almost all the rest of the supervision took place
at a distance, using the videoconferencing tools Skype and Google
Hangouts. In July 2011 Bernadita came back to Barcelona for a month,
and in April 2013 she came back again for two weeks, on both occa-
sions in order to work on-campus with her supervisors. Teresa is a
Catalan female supervisor working in Barcelona. Before supervising
Bernardita, Teresa had already supervised four doctoral dissertations,
including Marc’s. Marc is a Catalan male supervisor who was working
in Barcelona when his collaboration in Bernardita’s doctoral process
began, in 2011. Bernardita’s dissertation was the first he had supervised
and he actually began to collaborate in her project just before defend-
ing his own doctoral dissertation, supervised by Teresa. After that, in
November 2011, the collaboration was formally established when he
was incorporated as a co-supervisor. The main reason for Marc’s inte-
gration as a co-supervisor was that Bernardita’s project was largely based
on theoretical and methodological ideas that were developed in his
dissertation.
Context of the Doctoral Process
Bernardita travelled to Barcelona in 2009 on a scholarship from the

Chilean Ministry of Education’s Becas Chile, in order to conduct her
doctoral studies. This scholarship strongly established Bernardita’s
obligation to defend her dissertation by 31 July 2015. In Barcelona,
Bernardita enrolled in a doctoral programme in educational psychol-
ogy which requires students to have published a paper or chapter and
to have submitted another paper or chapter for publication before they
submit their dissertation. One week after the beginning of the doctoral
programme, Bernardita’s first child was born, in April 2009. After two
years in Barcelona, Bernardita and her family returned to Chile, where
her second child was born in October 2011.
258
Generation of Self-Narratives
and Co-constructed Narrative
In order to prevent self-absorption, each of the three participants inde-

pendently wrote a self-narrative. The only instruction for all three was
to write subjectively (including emotions, thoughts and actions) on the most
relevant epiphanies regarding assistance and its contingency (including stu-
dent’s and supervisors’ needs and capabilities), during the whole doctoral
process. Before writing the self-narratives, the three authors shared lit-
erature on autoethnography and on assistance and contingency. After
the three self-narratives were generated, we coded each self-narrative
separately following Grounded Theory Analysis procedures (Strauss &
Corbin, 1998) with the aim of describing how assistance was trans-
formed during the process and how contingency explains this trans-
formation. The three coded self-narratives were then triangulated, and
from this triangulation, we generated the co-constructed narrative (Ellis
et al., 2011) offered below.
Results
By triangulating the three analysed self-narratives we could identify
five epiphanies along the whole process, which we named Building the
Relationship, Theoretical Work, Data Analysis, Supervised Autonomy, and
Controlling Timing. We examine each of these epiphanies below, in
terms of nature, transformation and contingency of assistance. In each
epiphany, we offer the co-constructed narrative produced by the trian-
gulation of the three independent self-narratives.
Epiphany 1: Building the Relationship
For Bernadita (the doctoral student), the beginning of the process

was directly influenced by her recent maternity in a foreign city on
another continent, and by various administrative problems which pre-
vented her from meeting her own expectations as a doctoral student in
259
terms of work. At the same time, this made her feel she was not meet-
ing Teresa’s expectations (Teresa was Bernardita’s only supervisor at that
moment). As a consequence, Bernardita was especially concerned to
adjust her performance to Teresa’s expectations and to her own, and to
convince Teresa that she was a capable and hardworking person. Thus,
Bernardita’s main concern in this first epiphany was to build a trustful
relationship and adjust expectations and performance; in other words,
her main need was to feel she could do the doctorate under her particu-
lar circumstances and, perhaps even more importantly, to feel that Teresa
believed this too. Teresa’s assistance consisted mainly of establishing fort-
nightly meetings. For each meeting Bernardita had to submit work in
advance which they then discussed. This helped Bernardita because she
could negotiate deadlines which were accomplishable and she began
to feel she was responding to Teresa’s expectations and to her own in
terms of work. However, the concern that Teresa was trying to address
by means of this assistance was a different one: Teresa’s interpretation of
Bernardita’s main need in this first epiphany was the delimitation of her
project and its theoretical framework. As a way of addressing this need,
Teresa arranged meetings between Bernardita and a number of research-
ers in the department, including Marc (who later became Bernardita’s
co-supervisor). Like Teresa, Marc interpreted Bernardita’s main concern
to be how she might best delimit the project and its theoretical frame-
work. Additionally, Marc also thought that Bernardita needed to gain
a better understanding and clarity on the theoretical approach she was
adopting. Consequently, Marc’s assistance in this epiphany was mostly
aimed at the theoretical depth of the proposal. This assistance was at
odds with Bernardita’s concern with meeting expectations, since it chal-
lenged her work, and caused her to feel disoriented. However, this diso-
rientation also helped Bernardita begin to understand that she needed to
achieve a fuller mastery of the theoretical approach she was planning to
use. This need, which she had not perceived until then, would become
Bernardita’s main concern in the second epiphany.
To sum up, although Teresa’s and Bernardita’s main concerns differed,
Teresa’s assistance (driven by Teresa’s concern regarding the theoretical
delimitation of the dissertation) suited Bernardita’s perceived need of
building trust and adjusting expectations and performance; however,
260
Marc’s assistance (driven by his concern with the theoretical depth of

the proposal) caused a disruption that led Bernardita to feel disoriented,
although this disruption helped her understand the need for a theoreti-
cal refinement of her proposal.
Epiphany 2: Theoretical Work
Once back in Chile, Bernardita became increasingly aware of her

need, already perceived by Teresa and Marc in the first epiphany,
to gain a greater understanding of the theoretical approach she was
using. First, the physical distance between her and her supervisors
gave Bernardita the sense that she was working within one approach
which differed from other possible approaches, and that she needed to
consistently appropriate it as a way of belonging to a research line and
a research group. This feeling was reaffirmed by her discussions with
other researchers in Chile who did not share the same approach, so
that Bernardita had to explain and defend it. The assistance offered by
Teresa and Marc was not very different from the first epiphany, since
it was aimed to the same need; the important difference, however, was
that Teresa’s, Marc’s and Bernardita’s concerns were now coincident:
Bernardita’s appropriation of the theoretical approach. At the same
time, however, Marc’s narrative shows his concern about Bernardita’s
assumption of a researcher role—instead of a student role—in this
process of appropriating the theoretical approach. In this connection,
Marc reported in his narrative that the supervisory assistance had
changed qualitatively in order to address this concern: at the end of
the second epiphany, the work on the theoretical approach was con-
ducted more in the form of discussion than in the form of questions
and answers, as it was at the beginning of this second epiphany and
also in the first epiphany. Marc reported that Bernardita’s positioning
as a researcher who discussed and defended the approach in circles
where this approach was not shared was key in transforming her role
from that of a student to that of a researcher, also in the relationship
with her supervisors. This concern is not as clearly expressed in either
Bernardita’s or Teresa’s narrative as it is in Marc’s. It seems, therefore,
261
that in this second epiphany there were also appreciable differences

between the three participants’ perceived needs, even though the assis-
tance was quite effective.
Epiphany 3: Analyzing Data
Once the data were collected and important theoretical work had been
done, Bernardita faced the task of analyzing the data. This was the
first time she had conducted an analysis using grounded theory analy-
sis procedures and Bernadita’s sense of insecurity and uncertainty were
especially acute. This blocked her progress to the point that she even-
tually visited Barcelona for two weeks in order to address this need
on-campus. On this occasion, the three participants’ perceived needs
were largely coincident, and their common concern was clearly to deal
with Bernadita’s insecurity and uncertainty on the data analysis. The
assistance consisted of intensive sessions where Bernardita, Teresa and
Marc analyzed data together, focusing on the methodological notions
and approach to be used. In general, all three perceived the assistance
to be quite effective. However, there are nuances in how the key aspects
of assistance were perceived. In Marc’s interpretation, for example,
the key issue was the assistance devoted to Bernardita’s understand-
ing of the methodological use of criteria in the analysis. On the other
hand, Bernardita emphasizes the metaphorical assistance which gave
her a clearer vision of what the analysis process was like. In this regard,
Bernardita highlights Marc’s metaphorical idea that “analysing data is
like dancing with data”. She recognizes this metaphor as a way of imag-
ining the task while conceptualizing uncertainty as an intrinsic part of
it. This, together with other assistance provided in this epiphany, helped
her overcome her block and acquire an important degree of autonomy
in analyzing data.
Epiphany 4: Supervised Autonomy
Back in Chile, and once she had overcome the insecurity which had
hampered her progress in data analysis, Bernardita’s main need was
262
to acquire the security and self-reliance to make her own decisions

about data analysis and the process in general. The perception of this
need is not clearly expressed in Teresa’s or Marc’s narratives, but their
assistance clearly suited that need. In fact, Teresa and Marc perceived
that Bernardita really could assume greater autonomy and they there-
fore began to intervene less in the process. Accordingly, Bernardita was
given increasing control of decision-making in the data analysis, and
weekly meetings were established to supervise her work and decisions.
The issues to be discussed in the meetings were decided by Bernardita
herself, according to her specific doubts. Organizing the assistance in
this way helped Bernardita appreciate the confidence that Marc and
Teresa had in her work and at the same time the weekly meetings pro-
vided her the security that she was advancing in the right direction.
Another need was recognized by all three self-narratives in this epiph-
any, although only Marc reported it as having primary importance: the
need to control the Bernardita’s anxiety about the slowness of the anal-
ysis. To address this specific need, assistance was aimed at establishing
realistic tempos and deadlines and at taking strategic decisions on the
management and selection of data to be analyzed. Furthermore, addi-
tional assistance was provided to satisfy another need that was mainly
felt by Teresa: the need to maintain a sense of cohesion and collabora-
tive work among the three participants. As Bernardita assumed greater
control of the decisions, this could undermine the cohesion and the
collaborative culture constructed between the three participants dur-
ing the previous epiphanies. This concern became especially evident in
Teresa’s narrative in two episodes. The first was when Teresa had to leave
Barcelona for some weeks. Unable to participate in the weekly meetings,
specific assistance in form of memorandums of the meetings was pro-
vided in order to maintain the internal cohesion of the group, which is
clearly expressed as one of Teresa’s concerns at this moment. The second
was when Bernardita submitted a proposal for a conference presenta-
tion without previously discussing it with Teresa and Marc, and where
she appeared as the only author of the proposal. This is also expressed
as a concern about group cohesion in Teresa’s narrative, and additional
specific assistance was devoted to further discussing the ways in which
the group might work together in order to maintain and strengthen its
263
cohesion. The need for specific assistance devoted to maintaining group

cohesion in this epiphany is not as clearly expressed in Bernardita’s or
Marc’s narratives as it is in Teresa’s.
In this third epiphany, therefore, once again there were apprecia-
ble differences among the three participants’ concerns: Bernardita was
mainly concerned about feeling confident in the data analysis and, at
a secondary level, about her anxiety with the slowness of the process,
which she wanted to accelerate. This second concern was Marc’s main
concern, together with making sure that the data analysis was proceed-
ing in the right direction. On the other hand, Teresa was mainly con-
cerned about maintaining the cohesion of the group and about ensuring
that the analysis was properly revised. Despite these differences in per-
ceived needs, however, the assistance was effective and seen as contin-
gent by all the group.
Epiphany 5: Controlling Timing
The fifth epiphany was mostly defined by the pressures Bernardita faced
in the final phase of her doctoral process. First, she had health prob-
lems in the moment she was finishing the analysis. Second, the deadline
for presenting the dissertation stipulated in her scholarship was draw-
ing near. Third, she still had to meet the Doctoral program’s require-
ments of publishing a paper or chapter and have submitted another
paper or chapter for publication before submitting the dissertation. In
this epiphany, Bernardita began to feel the strong pressure of these cir-
cumstances and faced what she describes as an “important emotional
challenge”. Her main need was to feel that Teresa and Marc could show
empathy with what she was feeling and understand her situation, as well
as being committed to helping with her problem. Bernardita’s narrative
shows that she felt that this assistance was provided, mainly by means of
the cohesion of the group, which helped her to see that she was not fac-
ing her difficult situation alone, and by Teresa’s and Marc’s demonstra-
tions of empathy and trust. This very clearly expressed need to feel her
supervisors’ empathy was also recognized in Teresa’s and Marc’s narra-
tives, although it was not given key importance. Specifically, both Teresa
264
and Marc mention their decision to ask Bernardita to rest for two weeks
in order to recover from her health problems and to regain her energy,
and Teresa underlines the importance of this decision for addressing the
complicated situation the group was facing. However, what both Teresa
and Marc consider crucial is the need to carefully control the tempos
of Bernardita’s work, proposing demanding but realistic and accom-
plishable deadlines, which in turn required the supervisors to increase
Bernardita’s autonomy in her work. In other words, the two supervisors’
assistance was mainly focused on planning and making strategic deci-
sions, while a large degree of autonomy was left to Bernardita in the
writing process. Additionally, assistance was also provided to Bernardita
to directly alleviate some of the pressure, especially when the supervisors
renegotiated the university publication conditions for Bernardita’s pres-
entation of the dissertation and directly assumed active roles in produc-
ing the required publications. This commitment and direct effort on the
part of Teresa and Marc were judged by Bernardita to be indicators of
empathy, support and involvement in what was for her a difficult emo-
tional moment. Again, in this case, although the needs were perceived
differently by each participant, all three perceived the assistance to be
contingent.
Discussion and Conclusion

In both doctoral studies and general educational research, this study is
among the few that explore assistance and contingency by considering
the different subjectivities in the process and the relationships among
them. This approach allowed us to observe certain aspects regarding
assistance and contingency that have not generally been as clearly
observed or stated as they are in this study.
Our first important finding was that contingent assistance does not
require a coincidence between the supervisor’s and student’s perceptions of
the student’s necessities. On many occasions in our data, assistance offered
by a supervisor driven by a specific concern was understood and felt
by the student as contingent in relation to a different concern. For
example, in the first epiphany, Teresa’s assistance aimed at delimiting
265
the theoretical framework of the thesis was perceived by Bernardita as

contingent assistance regarding her need to adjust expectations and to
feel capable. There are several other examples of this phenomenon in
Epiphanies 3, 4 and 5.
A second finding was that some of the student’s needs are perceived by
the supervisors before they are perceived by the student herself. By the same
token, we also observed that often assistance aimed at a need was offered
first, and only later the student felt that need. This was clear in Epiphany
1, for example, when both Teresa and Marc were offering assistance to
improve Bernardita’s theoretical approach, but she did not substantially
feel this need until Epiphany 2. This phenomenon was especially clear
in Marc’s assistance in Epiphany 1, which was actually perceived by
Bernardita as non-contingent, since it could not be interpreted as con-
tingent with her main concern at that moment (feeling capable). This
echoes Vygotsky’s genetic law of cultural development, in the sense
that Bernardita’s need appeared first in the interpsychological relation-
ship with her, supervisors, and only later this need was felt by her at
the intrapsychological level. The same occurred between Epiphanies
4 and 5: in Epiphany 4, the assistance devoted to strengthening the
group’s cohesion was driven by a need felt only by Teresa, and later, in
Epiphany 5, the group cohesion and empathy became a key need for all
three participants in order to overcome the difficult emotional challenge
that Bernardita was facing.
A third finding was that assistance is multidimensional, and that it is dif-
ficult to forecast which dimension will be most important for the student.
This was clear along all our data. For example, Teresa’s assistance in the
first epiphany worked for Bernardita because it provided accomplishable
deadlines and helped her to become more self-reliant, although Teresa
thought of this assistance mainly from the point of view of theoretical
delimitation and construction. Another clear example was Epiphany 3,
where the supervisors’ assistance mainly focused on the methodological
use of criteria, but where what really helped Bernardita was a contextual
metaphor (“analysing data is like dancing with data”), which allowed her
to have an image of the general dynamics of the process.
Processes of fading and transfer of responsibility were clearly visible
along the five epiphanies, although different processes began in different
266
moments and evolved at different speeds. For example, considerable

assistance was devoted in Epiphanies 1 and 2 as a response to the need
for Bernadita to appropriate the theoretical framework. In Epiphany 3,
a new need became the main concern, related to methodological anal-
ysis, and the assistance offered in Epiphanies 1 and 2 was faded con-
siderably, while new assistance was largely offered to address this new
concern. This assistance was also progressively faded in Epiphanies
4 and 5, while Bernardita assumed increasing control of methodo-
logical decision-making. However, a new concern—controlling tem-
pos—became central in Epiphany 5, and a new process of transfer of
responsibility began regarding this concern. Thus, in Epiphany 5, while
in the analysis and interpretation of data the group had almost reached
the end of the transfer of responsibility (Bernardita had a substantial
degree of autonomy), in terms of the control of tempos the group had
barely started the transfer process (Teresa and Marc offered major assis-
tance in planning issues).
Naturally, the type of necessities and assistance observed in this study
are not directly generalisable to other distance or on-campus doctoral
processes. In our case, assistance addressed to group cohesion and com-
mitment seemed to play an important role in several key moments in
the process, especially at the end. The importance of this assistance may
have been intensified by the distance between the supervisors and the
student, and by the fact that, during a long period, Bernardita did not
share the institutional space where Teresa and Marc worked daily. In
this regard, for example, having meetings very regularly (for a long time
our meetings were held on a weekly basis) might have played an impor-
tant role, especially during Epiphany 4, in order to keep the feeling of
presence and joint work despite the distance. Similar observations have
been reported in other studies of supervising at a distance (Andrew,
2012). The other needs and types of assistance observed in our process
(improving and delimiting the theoretical approach, overcoming inse-
curity and uncertainty in analysing data, and controlling the tempos)
were perhaps less related to the distance between us and more related to
needs that occur in a similar way when supervisors and students work
together on campus. However, the assistance in controlling the tem-
pos while demonstrating empathy was perceived as necessary by Teresa,
267
Marc and Bernardita with unusual intensity, as a consequence of the

accumulating pressure in the fifth epiphany.
The study of teaching and learning processes, including doctoral
supervision processes, from the point of view of the relationships
between the different subjectivities appears to be a promising approach.
In our study, it offered a rich and novel account of the dynamics of
assistance and contingency, shedding new light on how supervision
assistance works in a doctoral journey.
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15
Experiencing the Journey Together:
The Role of Social Support
during the Doctorate
Tanya M. Machin and Renée L. Parsons-Smith
Introduction
Social support is an important predictor of graduate student well-being
(The Graduate Assembly, 2014), highlighting the importance of this issue
for university students. Doctoral students often encounter multiple per-
sonal and career-related pressures (Kurtz-Costes, Andrews Helmke, &
Ülkü-Steiner, 2006). Indeed, recent data suggest that one in three doc-
toral students is at risk of experiencing mental health issues (Levecque,
Anseel, De Beuckelaer, Van der Heyden, & Gisle, 2017). There is signif-
icant evidence to suggest that experiencing meaningful relationships and
regularly associating with like-minded peers provide valuable opportu-
nities for common obstacles and stressors to be shared and understood.
More specifically, a good network of friends and colleagues has the poten-
tial to mediate stress, facilitate psychological and physical health, and
assist academic progress (see Campbell, Wynne-Jones, & Dunn, 2011;
T. M. Machin (*) · R. L. Parsons-Smith

e-mail: Tanya.machin@usq.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_15
270
T. M. Machin and R. L. Parsons-Smith
Luszczynska, Pawlowska, Cieslak, Knoll, & Scholz, 2013). This chapter

highlights the protective benefits of social support, as well as the poten-
tially negative effects of social isolation for doctoral students. Using crit-
ical reflection methodology, we describe two contrasting experiences of
social isolation while undertaking the doctoral journey. The chapter
concludes with a selection of practical strategies that the authors found
helpful to increase social support.
The Benefits of Social Support

Human beings are profoundly social creatures. There is a vast amount
of literature emphasising not only the strong need that we all have to
belong, but also the positive benefits that social relationships have on
our lives (see Baumeister & Leary, 1995). Such emotional connec-
tions also make intuitive sense. For example, when we fall ill, we are
more likely to receive the physical care and psychological support we
need if we maintain close social connections. The term social support
can be broadly described as giving and/or receiving assistance, care, and
encouragement (Langford, Bowsher, Maloney, & Lillis, 1997). More
specifically, social support encompasses four unique functions: emo-
tional support (i.e., caring for and trusting in others), instrumental sup-
port (i.e., helping others according to their specific need), informational
support (i.e., advice-giving or problem solving), and appraisal support
(i.e., providing feedback; House, 1981). In addition, social support
assumes an expectation of helpful and friendly interactions, as opposed
to those characterised by disapproval or condemnation (Heaney &
Israel, 2008).
Close social ties play a functional role in the maintenance of
well-being (Feeney & Collins, 2015). Researchers emphasise that
those who experience meaningful social support are more likely to
have lower levels of stress, as well as fewer physical and psycholog-
ical challenges (Cohen & Wills, 1985; Jairam & Kahl, 2012). There
are numerous positive effects of social support across different life
domains. From a personal perspective, enhanced self-esteem and
improved emotional experiences are among the psychological benefits
15 Experiencing the Journey Together …
271
previously identified (Zimet, Dahlem, Zimet, & Farley, 1988). In the

context of employment, studies have shown that social support can
reduce workplace strains, mitigate work-related stressors, and buffer
against burnout (Baruch-Feldman, Brondolo, Ben-Dayan, & Schwartz,
2002; Viswesvaran, Sanchez, & Fisher, 1999). In a seminal study by
Baruch-Feldman et al. (2002), the positive effects of social support
were generally reflected in an increased sense of job satisfaction and
higher work productivity.
Epidemiological research has found similar health-related protective
properties. Patients with meaningful social supports report reduced
cancer pain, lower levels of chest pain following heart surgery, bet-
ter recovery following fall-related injuries, and generally require less
pain medication when hospitalised (Kempen, Scaf-Klomp, Ranchor,
Sanderman, & Ormel, 2001; King, Reis, Porter, & Norsen, 1993; Kulik
& Mahler, 1989; Zaza & Baine, 2002). We conclude that social support
provides a protective factor against both psychologically demanding and
physiologically compromising circumstances (Meeuwesen, 2006).
Taken together, it is clear that social support plays a critical role in
maintaining well-being. Unsurprisingly, social support is considered vital
in unfamiliar and stress-inducing situations (Friedlander, Reid, Shupak,
& Cribbie, 2007; Machielse, 2006). Undertaking a doctoral degree
perfectly fits these criteria. Doctoral students often encounter multi-
ple personal and career-related stressors, such as high self-expectations,
time pressures, pressures to publish, financial difficulties, and uncertain
career prospects (Kurtz-Costes, et al., 2006). Further, increased academic
workloads and new responsibilities have been identified as two of the
most common sources of stress for university students (Ross, Neibling,
& Heckert, 1999; Schmidt & Hansson, 2018). The Committee on the
College Student (2000) has concluded that doctoral students “…face
enormous demands upon their time, energy, intelligence, endurance,
patience, and organizational skills” (p. 1). This assertion makes clear that
those undertaking a Ph.D. are at increased risk of experiencing multi-
ple stressors over extended periods of time. Therefore, given the strong
link between social support and psychological and physical health,
social isolation has the potential to negatively impact doctoral students’
well-being.
272
Social Isolation and the Doctoral Program

Hortulanus and Machielse (2006) described social isolation as a lack of,
or perceived deficiency in meaningful social relationships. Loneliness may
also be an unpleasant consequence for those who feel socially isolated and
similarly refers to a perceived lack of intimacy within social contexts (Janta,
Lugosi, & Brown, 2014). Loneliness is now acknowledged as a global pub-
lic health problem. The Australian Psychological Society (2019) reported
that one in four Australian adults feel lonely. Poor health behaviours and
biological risk factors are some of the negative effects of social isolation
(Pressman et al., 2005; Shankar, McMunn, Banks, & Steptoe, 2011).
Those who feel socially isolated are also more likely to experience men-
tal health issues, such as depression and increased levels of stress (House,
2001). The consequences of social isolation are severe, and are a known
risk factor for morbidity and mortality by means of underlying physiolog-
ical mechanisms (Cacioppo, Hawkley, Norman, & Berntson, 2011; Holt-
Lundstad, Smith, Baker, Harris, & Stephenson, 2015; Uchino, 2006).
Doctoral students have been found to be more vulnerable to higher
levels of stress and anxiety, and increased incidence of depression com-
pared with the general population (Levecque et al., 2017). A propor-
tion of the higher than average stress levels was attributed directly to
the Ph.D. program structures (Cahir & Morris, 1991). Although it is
recognised that design characteristics can and do vary according to dif-
ferent countries, institutional requirements, and disciplines (Janta et al.,
2014), the Western-style academic model is typically student-managed
and outcome driven. Doctoral students are expected to make a unique
contribution to scholarly knowledge while exercising a large degree of
self-reliance. From this perspective, this lack of a clear accountability
framework means that motivation, momentum, time, and resources
must be successfully self-managed to achieve completion (Ali & Kohun,
2007; Beutel et al., 2010; Fisher, 2006). Such stressors contribute to
negative feeling states such as social isolation (Beutel et al., 2010).
In terms of design characteristics, the mode of study (e.g., on-
campus vs online) plays an important role in Ph.D. students’ suscepti-
bility to social isolation. At larger metropolitan universities, numerous
on-campus doctoral students making up sizeable research teams often
273
work side-by-side in a laboratory or structured research environment.

While this type of arrangement may be conducive to social support,
competition for resources between students can add complexity to peer
relationships (Lee, Walsh, & Wang, 2014). Alternatively, smaller uni-
versities often have fewer Ph.D. enrolments, leaving some students una-
ble to regularly interact with like-minded peers. Additionally, doctoral
programs can be delivered via more flexible methods, such as through
distance education or online. Under these circumstances, external post-
graduate students may predominantly work from home, sometimes liv-
ing at great distances from their university of choice. Greater distance
from campuses can make strong peer connections difficult. Given these
considerations, it is clear that the amount of face-to-face contact and
the number of opportunities to interact and make meaningful connec-
tions with other Ph.D. students can vary widely.
Academic progress is a high priority for university students (The
Graduate Assembly, 2014). However, students who feel socially isolated
are more likely to have difficulties attaining academic success (Walton &
Cohen, 2007). Social isolation plays a key role in doctoral student attrition
(Ali & Kohun, 2006). Hefner and Eisenberg (2009) noted that students
from minority groups often have a higher chance of experiencing social iso-
lation, and consequently its negative effects. Female doctoral students also
tend to receive less support and feel more stress than their male counter-
parts (Goplerud, 1980; Hodgson & Simoni, 1995). These studies high-
light that some doctoral students may be at increased risk of social isolation
regardless of Ph.D. design characteristics. Regularly accessing work-related
resources and peers in discipline-specific environments strengthens social
connections. Reducing overt social isolation minimises the risk of attrition
and improves the likelihood of academic progression.
Critical Reflections of Social

Isolation and Social Support
Critical reflection is a strategy utilised in many disciplines such as nurs-
ing, education, and psychology. The technique aims to critically reflect
on specific experiences that may be personally demanding in an effort
274
to better identify idiosyncratic thought patterns, feelings, beliefs, and

values that have the potential to negatively impact work-related situa-
tions (Bolton, 2010). Through this process, faulty implicit beliefs, per-
sonal biases, problematic thoughts, and behaviours can be recognised,
isolated, challenged, and minimised to improve work practices (Bolton,
2010). In this section, both authors share their perceptions and expe-
riences of social support and social isolation during their doctoral can-
didature. Tanya critically reflects on her experience as an on-campus
doctoral student, and Renée as an external doctoral student based a
three-hour drive from her university campus.
Tanya: My decision to undertake my doctorate was twofold, that
of career change and a lifestyle decision. After careers of high expecta-
tions and pressure, the thought of being a full-time, on-campus student
doing research was incredibly exciting. On my first day, both my Head
of School and principal supervisor helped me arrange and complete the
necessary organisational and administrative requirements, and took me
to meet the administrative staff who arranged a place for me to work as
well as resources such as a computer.
I was fortunate in that my university provided all full-time, on-
campus Ph.D. students with a secure place to work, a locker for per-
sonal belongings, a desktop computer, and a small filing cabinet for
important documents. My assigned workspace was a cubicle located in
a research room that housed up to 45 doctoral students and up to 5
postdoctoral fellows. Initially, I thought that this space would be a bus-
tling hub of like-minded research students interacting with each other,
discussing their research, and exchanging ideas—however the reality
was very different. At the commencement of my doctorate, there were
approximately 20 students allocated to that research room and only
one student from my discipline. I thought the small numbers of stu-
dents would be very beneficial, however I soon found the reality very
different: The students were both a source of support and stress. I found
there were three specific students who were very supportive of each
other (and myself ): we openly discussed our research, expressed inter-
est in each other’s work, celebrated triumphs and commiserated with
challenges faced. However, their areas of research were vastly different
from mine—with no common “language”’. Additionally, the majority
275
of students viewed this room as only a workspace rather than a place

to socialise or ask questions of others. Basic courtesies like saying good
morning were discouraged with glaring and there was no acknowledg-
ment or return of polite greetings. It was not unusual for signs to appear
if there was too much talking; thus reminding students that this was
a work area, not an area for socialising. I was surrounded by people,
and yet felt isolated—so much so that I entertained thoughts about not
coming to campus at all!
Approximately two months after I started, an orientation was adver-
tised for new doctoral students. I attended and spent time chatting to
another new student (from a different discipline and located in a dif-
ferent research room) and we discussed topics such as our research, our
explorations of the campus, and available opportunities for students.
During our discussion, this student mentioned two different meet-
ings she was regularly attending. The first was an informal get-together
where doctoral students could meet with objective academics to discuss
their research projects in more detail. It was a discipline-specific group
but I asked the convenors if I could join, and they agreed that I could.
The second group was a more formal fortnightly meeting with postgrad-
uate students and early career researchers (known as PGECR) from dif-
ferent disciplines across the university attending. The PGECR meetings
included assigned readings and research/researcher spotlights. I started
attending both of these meetings and found the groups personally and
professionally supportive and encouraging. These meetings provided a
place outside of the supervisor relationship where I could learn more
about research—the processes and expectations, as well as providing an
avenue to escape from my workspace.
During this period, I spent time reflecting on the experiences of exter-
nal doctoral students who did not have the same opportunities as me to
attend forums or groups and the impact that must have on them. I spent
time discussing this issue with Renée, an external student whom I had
previously met at a psychology conference. These on-going conversations
prompted me to start a fortnightly forum for psychology students, with
the option for external students to teleconference into these sessions.
The meetings were accompanied by an online discussion group where
students could read about upcoming events, find resources, and discuss
276
other important issues with like-minded peers. While attendance at these

sessions varied, there was a core group of both on-campus and external
students who were able to develop supportive relationships with each
other. Certainly, for me this was an additional benefit as I could finally
discuss my research with others who understood the “language” I used.
Attendance at all three of these groups offered me multiple opportuni-
ties to develop supportive relationships with my fellow doctoral travellers
that ultimately, made my doctoral journey an easier road to travel.
Renée: For me, the primary advantage of studying a Ph.D. externally
was flexibility. Being a substantial commitment over an extended period
of time, the convenience of fashioning a specific study routine tailored to
my lifestyle was the key motivating factor. Additionally, my chosen uni-
versity was located roughly 300 km away, so studying externally was the
only viable option. During the early stages of my program, I visited the
university campus on a monthly basis. Regular contact with my super-
visors and related support staff members was necessary to assist me in
meeting preliminary milestones (e.g., the confirmation of candidature).
My initial experiences of being on-campus were positive and pro-
ductive. I was introduced to the university research culture and began
interacting with like-minded peers at similar points in their academic
careers. However, with time being my most precious commodity,
my stints on campus were routinely short and my schedules typically
involved back-to-back meetings. Unfortunately, there was little time left
to establish strong peer connections. While the on-campus doctoral stu-
dents were communicating, collaborating, and commiserating with one
another, I was becoming increasingly aware of what the convenience of
studying externally was actually costing me: social support.
Realising that I would be tackling the rigours and stressors of study-
ing at Ph.D. level without the support of my peers, I was determined to
negate my newfound enemy: social isolation. I decided to be proactive. I
began talking to family members and friends about the unique challenges
I faced. I described my lack of time, my problems with data, my writer’s
block, my fear of failure, my constant worry that I would not finish on
time. Despite their best efforts, my existing support networks were una-
ble to grasp the myriad and magnitude of study-related issues I faced.
Not surprisingly, I felt increasingly misunderstood, and they became
277
increasingly frustrated. Finally, upon hearing the exasperated words “you’re

not Robinson Crusoe Renée!”—in that instant, my position became per-
fectly clear—I was. (Based on the true story of Alexander Selkirk, Robinson
Crusoe was a fictional character from a book by Daniel Defoe who was ship-
wrecked on what he perceived to be was an uninhabited island.)
For me, creating a strong connection with another Ph.D. student
served as an invaluable source of social support. Not only did she
understand the demands typical of the Ph.D. process, but she also
understood many issues unique to our discipline, as well as specific to
my research. Suddenly, I did not feel so alone anymore. Upon reflec-
tion, not only did this friendship serve as a buffer against Ph.D. stress,
but it also provided me with valuable networking possibilities. Being an
on-campus student, Tanya experienced more opportunities than me to
make strong connections within our discipline. So, when I visited the
university campus, she would introduce me to other doctoral students
and academics in our field. As I better assimilated into the on-campus
research culture, the wide-ranging benefits of interacting with like-
minded peers and faculty personnel quickly became apparent. I was
able to seek ad hoc advice involving research methodologies, as well as
receive expert opinions on ethical considerations and advanced statis-
tics. Additionally, as I made stronger connections, more opportunities
became available. For example, collaborating on interesting academic
projects, and perhaps even more importantly, employment in my disci-
pline. Overall, there is no doubt that having the support of like-minded
peers and actively participating in the university research culture pro-
vided me with the distinctive type of social support that I needed to
help me successfully negotiate the doctoral terrain.
Practical Strategies to Establish

and Enhance Social Support
Embarking on the doctoral journey constitutes a major life transition.
While most students will already have existing sources of quality sup-
port available, it may be difficult for friends and family members to
understand the complexities associated with completing a doctorate.
278
These networks may lack the requisite experiential or specialised knowl-

edge required to provide effective social support (Heaney & Israel,
2008). It is essential that doctoral students communicate frequently
with supervisors for practical guidance and research-related assistance,
and equally essential that students prioritise developing quality social
connections with peers. Strong peer connections enable doctoral stu-
dents to share and better negotiate common program-related stressors
and discipline-specific issues. While the scientific literature outlines var-
ious strategies to encourage students to increase their social support net-
works, here we discuss the experiences that we have both found helpful.
Administrative Opportunities
Initial information about program requirements can be limited or con-

fusing for new students, which has been found to contribute to feel-
ings of isolation for doctoral students (Ali & Kohun, 2006). In an effort
to clarify program expectations, most universities will host orientation
events utilising both face-to-face and computer-mediated methods of
communication. As Tanya found during her orientation session, such
events serve as a great opportunity to obtain the need-to-know infor-
mation. Additionally, these events provide a chance to meet other stu-
dents, learn about other discipline-specific and university-wide events
and meetings, and help to clarify what activities and facilities are avail-
able for on-campus versus online students (e.g., student groups or
clubs). These orientation sessions also provide rare opportunities to
meet administrative staff and key support personnel who will assist with
organisational requirements. If you are unable to attend these orienta-
tion sessions, ask your supervisor/s if they can introduce you to these
staff members, or like Renée, ask your doctoral peers to introduce you
to important others when visiting the university campus.
Universities also offer regular training opportunities for doctoral stu-
dents. Attending research workshops have the dual purpose of build-
ing your research skills and the requisite level of knowledge, as well as
increasing opportunities for connecting with peers and faculty. These
educational events can also help to grow your social and administrative
279
networks. Many of these training sessions have limited numbers, mean-

ing that the smaller group size may be more conducive to getting to
know others. Both Tanya and Renée found attending these workshops
vital in getting to know other students and staff. Finding out where
other Ph.D. students’ study may also facilitate social connection. As in
Tanya’s experience, universities often provide permanent research spaces
or hot desks for on-campus doctoral students. Utilising these facilities
will not only provide a suitable place to complete your research, but will
likely also provide more opportunities for you to interact with fellow
students. If you are studying online or externally like Renée, then be
sure to investigate what workspaces are available to you when visiting
the university campus.
Supervisor Support
There are vast amounts of literature including chapters in this book,

which focus specifically on the importance of the supervisory rela-
tionship. While the nature of the student–supervisor relationship
is dynamic and likely to vary according to idiosyncratic differences,
what is clear is that supervisors can be a source of valuable informa-
tion about social networking opportunities. Many supervisors oversee
multiple Ph.D. candidates, meaning that your supervisor is likely to be
in a good position to put you in touch with other doctoral students.
Not only are these students likely to speak your language, but they may
also be working on a similar project. In any case, broaching the topic
with your supervisor and taking advantage of any related opportunities
may make possible mutually beneficial and collegially supportive social
connections.
Supervisors are also usually well-connected in terms of what may be
happening within their respective departments. For example, sched-
uled symposiums, research presentations, mentoring programs, student
research groups, research workshops, and confirmation of candidature
proposals all have the potential to create opportunities for interac-
tions and conversations with peers and academics alike, and can help
you to assimilate into the research culture at your university. If your
280
department is small or there are no student groups for you to attend,

you could always start your own meetings and invite others. You may
recall that Tanya started a fortnightly forum for psychology students,
and offered options for students to attend physically, or connect via
computer-mediated means online.
Professional organisations and/or societies may also offer mentoring
programs as a way to support networking and collaboration within dis-
ciples. In many instances, it is not necessary for students and mentors to
be in close proximity because communication can now easily be facil-
itated online. Doctoral supervisors are often members of these profes-
sional organisations, and can provide you with information about up
and coming mentoring opportunities, as well as other valuable infor-
mation concerning student internships, summer schools, conferences,
and potential networking events. For example, many conferences have
specific postgraduate sessions where you can meet like-minded others.
Some professional societies even host student breakfasts during con-
ferences that allow you to meet other Ph.D. students. Similar to the
research workshops that are often organised by universities, many soci-
eties also offer topical workshops and/or summer schools that are spe-
cifically tailored to meet postgraduate students’ needs. Tanya and Renée
both took advantage of many of these events, and in fact met at an
Australian Psychological Society conference hosted in Western Australia.
New and Existing Social Networks
We certainly recognise that most, if not all, students will enrol in the
doctoral program with a pre-existing group of supportive family and/
or friends. Fellow students from undergraduate courses may also form
part of this crucial network of social support. However, it may be dif-
ficult for family and friends to readily understand the novel demands
associated with studying at Ph.D. level. As Renée reflected, although she
communicated with her existing support network about study-related
challenges, her family and friends struggled to understand. Given that
a doctorate is a significant learning experience that extends over at least
a 3-year period, it makes sense to increase your existing social networks
281
and establish friendships with those who are undertaking the same jour-
ney. As already outlined, befriending fellow doctoral students is likely
to be rewarding. Both Tanya and Renée found that having like-minded
others to talk to was a precious source of social support with many
wide-ranging benefits.
Conclusion
This chapter has highlighted the protective benefits associated with
social support, as well as having examined the empirical findings about
the negative effects of social isolation during the doctoral journey. Both
authors have provided critical reflections on their experiences of social
support and social isolation during their Ph.D. candidature, and offered
strategies that increased social support networks for each of the authors.
Overall, our final thoughts are that embarking on the doctoral journey
is a challenging, rigorous and rewarding experience. While it is true that
studying a Ph.D. is typically characterised by emotional highs and lows,
many potential pitfalls can be successfully negotiated with the support
of like-minded peers. Traversing the doctorate can be made easier with
fellow Ph.D. companions with whom to share the experience.
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16
You’re My Anchor and My Sail:
A Metaphor for a Successful Supervisor/
Supervisee Relationship
Jennifer Donovan
Introduction
I had one doctoral supervisor, and my topic of what children might learn
about genetics from the mass media emerged from our previous success-
ful research. Therefore I embarked with confidence that the relation-
ship would work. I recorded positive thoughts when I decided to start
my Ph.D. Most students are not as fortunate. Multiple supervisors are
typical, and they may be unknown to the student or even to each other.
The students place their lives and futures in the hands of strangers and
cast off into unknown waters. Similarly, the supervisors are now roped to
“Anchor and sail” by Steve and Ros Barnes, from their album Nautilus. Available from https://
myspace.com/steveandrosbarnes/music/song/anchor-and-sail-47358917-50777775 and used
with permission.
J. Donovan (*)
School of Education, University of Southern Queensland,
e-mail: jennifer.Donovan@usq.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_16
288
J. Donovan
this new person, with her or his individual quirks, strengths and weak-
nesses. Together they must set sail, and ultimately reach the desired des-
tination of a doctorate. Along the way, the novitiate must be trained in
academy ways: to climb the rigging, navigate, steer the ship and eventu-
ally take over the wheel as captain. Ultimately, they will put into shore
and unload a thesis, and the new academic will journey on to a successful
career. Perhaps soon they will be docking again to take on board a noviti-
ate for themselves, and it will be their turn to become an anchor and a sail.
Choosing Ship and Crew, and Plotting a Course

Perhaps the most important decision a doctoral candidate makes
comes very early in the process. After “I want to do a doctorate” comes
“Who shall I do it with?” This frequently precedes “What’s my topic?”
Deciding who will be your guide(s) for this extended journey is critical
to its ultimate success.
Research indicates several simultaneous factors to consider in select-
ing a topic and supervisor. Ségol (2014) notes student familiarity with
and interest in the topic, faculty’s availability and preferences, timeline,
and funding as major factors for the topic. Becker (2004) suggests an
essential factor is the supervisor’s experience in the student’s field of
interest, also whether students choose or are allocated their supervisors,
whether one or more supervisors are required, and to explore mutual
working patterns. If a student needs regular meetings and supervisors
usually see students twice a term, the relationship might not work.
Becker (2004) suggests the choice between an experienced (but perhaps
in demand) supervisor and a less experienced (but committed to getting
it right) supervisor can be important.
I had been my supervisor’s research assistant, experiencing her
warmth, collegiality, scrupulous ethics, and her encouragement. We
knew we communicated well by email, essential since I planned a doc-
torate-on-the-road. We chose not to fix email frequency, just as neces-
sary, and I knew she would respond quickly. She knew I would meet
(or beat!) deadlines. From previous discussions over data and writing
16 You’re My Anchor and My Sail …
289
papers, I knew she had strengths that I lacked, such as her capacity to
see the big picture through different lenses. I knew she respected my
capabilities and genuinely wanted the best for me. She had encouraged
me to do a doctorate previously, but had respected my decision that my
life situation was not conducive to study then. When circumstances
changed and the time was finally right, for me, it was she or no one. She
was excited and enthusiastic, so we set sail together.
Clearly, my supervisor and I applied the principles from the research.
I was familiar with and interested in the topic, the faculty and my
supervisor were supportive, and the place and scholarship would seal it.
I knew I could choose just her, she was experienced but not overloaded,
and that our communication style would work as it had done before.
We were set to go.
Setting Sail
A flurry of activity follows the decision. Forms to complete, forcing
what appears to be premature decisions. What will be the topic, the
method, and anticipated results from this research? The response from
the new candidate can be “How do I know, I haven’t done it yet!” A lot
of quick thinking is needed, and here is where the supervisor(s) must
show their mettle. The candidate needs guidance through this process,
ensuring all relevant paperwork is complete, and that the candidate has
all the tools needed to commence this journey.
Becker (2004) suggests that supervisors should help students take
stock of their research skills and point them in the direction of specific
help for particular needs. This could be finding key authors or initial
readings, discussing ethical considerations, and directing students to
expert help in specific skills such as ICT, academic writing, and statis-
tics. Becker (2004) suggests “Embarrassment is the greatest single hin-
drance to a productive relationship” (p. 71), stressing that honesty is
essential, and supervisors are there to share their expertise. Supervisors
should not expect students to know everything they are supposed to do,
particularly at the start.
290
J. Donovan
Each university has a code of practice or similar policy document

for supervisors of higher degree research students. Students should read
this document for a clear idea of what the institution expects of their
research supervisor (Delamont, 2013). This facilitates discussions about
mutual expectations and working styles.
I was planning two major life changes simultaneously. The doctoral
decision coincided with selling our house, and buying a motor home
to travel Australia whilst I studied. Forms were completed quickly;
I waited anxiously for a place and a scholarship. I did not fit the usual
criteria, having only a Bachelor’s degree over 30 years old, a Graduate
Certificate, and a Master’s prelim in a different discipline. However,
with our prior work, my research experience and publishing record, and
my supervisor championing my cause, the place and scholarship were
confirmed.
Then the whirlwind as the house went on the market, we searched for
our dream home-on-wheels, finances came and went, and I began writ-
ing my proposal. Somehow, in four months, we achieved it: someone
else was in our house, belongings were in storage, and we were on the
road in The TARDIS (our fifth wheeler looked bigger on the inside and
I was to become Doctor Who). Amazingly, the proposal was finished.
We had set sail; the doctoral journey had begun.
From our prior research, I was familiar with some literature, but my
supervisor forwarded papers or leads that might be useful. She was very
clear about the paperwork, and sent an exemplar proposal so I could
see what was required. She guided me to the postgrad statistics clinic
so I could discuss upfront what sort of data I should collect and how it
should be recorded to facilitate analysis. She made it easy.
Plain Sailing
You’re my anchor and my sail, my lighthouse and my harbour
When the night winds wail
You’re my compass in the storm, the cloak that keeps me warm
My port and my starboard
My anchor and my sail
291
This first verse speaks to me of the all-encompassing nature of the guide

at the beginning of the journey. You can still see the harbour and light-
house, yet you are venturing forth into the night, and you need the
guidance of a compass and the warm encouragement like a cloak. You
need someone at your left and right hand, someone to lean on and to
propel you forward.
The research literature seems strangely silent about easy times, yet
doctoral students I have spoken with admit that there were times when
everything seemed to flow and they felt confident. Perhaps these times
are all too easily forgotten when the going gets tough. Even those who
finish their doctorates remember the process as demanding and gruel-
ling (Rockinson-Szapkiw & Spaulding, 2014), and feelings of isolation
are common (Pyhältö, Toom, Stubb, & Lonka, 2012; Rockinson-
Szapkiw & Spaulding, 2014). However, Di Napoli (Batchelor & Di
Napoli, 2006) explains that motivation and excitement is high in the
early days, possibly tempered by trepidation. It may be that the candi-
date knows too little to realise how little they know, so everything seems
straightforward. It could also be that they possess high-level literature
searching skills, so this first stage flows easily and offers the continual
excitement of learning new things.
Those early days were wonderful in that the oral defence of my pro-
posal went smoothly, and ethics clearance came the first time. I was
collecting data by the end of my first year and grappling with some
unexpected but interesting findings. I was reading voraciously and the
introductory and literature review chapters were progressing well. These
were the halcyon days of the doctoral voyage.
That was fortunate, as the land travels were not as smooth. Teething
troubles with The TARDIS and its power plant, the Chev, saw my part-
ner and me wintering in Gympie, whilst the Chev holidayed on the
Gold Coast, being repaired. The stress of this was mitigated by the time
it freed up for me to study, and the strong encouragement from my
supervisor kept my spirits high.
Unlike many (it seems), I remember the halcyon days. In fact, truth
be told, I had far more of these than “bad” days through my doctoral
journey. Perhaps I was lucky; I know I was blessed with a great supervi-
sor and a supportive partner. The first year was tremendously exciting,
292
J. Donovan
and I relished the continual learning. My previous involvement in

research meant I was not blind to what lay ahead, but I was not in fear
of it.
Navigating Stormy Weather

You’re the dawn that ends my night, my refuge in a stormy sea
My shining harbour light
You’re my shelter in the gale, the wind that fills my sail
You’re the fires that warm me
It seems all doctoral sailors hit stormy weather at some time. There can
be few or many long, dark, lonely, and sleepless nights tossed in rough
seas. The winds may blow fiercely then leave you stuck on the rocks,
unable to move. A doctorate can be a cold and lonely place.
Reports of attrition rates vary between 40–60% of doctoral candi-
dates (Rockinson-Szapkiw & Spaulding, 2014). For some students, the
storm rages when they feel stupid, they know nothing; they’re in the
wrong place. Schwartz (2008) points out that this is when productive
research happens; only by realising everyone is stupid about something,
and no one else knows this answer, will you find a way to work it out.
Criticism is a necessary part of research. A supervisor is there to pro-
vide constructive criticism, but it is not always easy to receive it. Becker
(2004, p. 74) tells of a discussion, the student following a particular
track, only for the supervisor to have second thoughts, wasting a lot of
work. Keeping cool isn’t easy, but Becker has two strategies: one, be pre-
pared to defend ideas important to you in a polite and rational way, and
two, throw nothing away. Put it aside and revisit it in a few weeks; it
may be clearer then as to whose argument was right. There will be times
when the student is right, as they become an expert in their field.
Eventually, our vehicular woes were resolved and we hit the road. As
we crossed the continent, I collected data in far-flung places, uncover-
ing some interesting trends. My supervisor was excited, and we started
down a particular track. Working towards my first conference, I sent
293
her the presentation and paper. I was shocked to receive her response:
“No, this is not right; you cannot say that”. This was unexpected and
I was hurt and all at sea. I struggled to grasp the problem and then to
hastily rewrite the paper and amend the presentation. For the first time
ever, I was nervous about seeing her at the conference, knowing what I
wanted to say but uncertain how to say it, and how she would respond.
She arrived, phoned, and then came immediately to my room. “I’m
sorry, I misled you” were her first words. I heaved a massive sigh of
relief, and then we sat down and talked through our navigation issue.
Her excitement about the findings had caused her to forget that the dis-
tinction I was making between groups was not what we had ethics clear-
ance for, and reporting the data this way would create a minefield. My
stormy weather ended quickly and we were once more sailing into clear
skies.
When her email said “No, you cannot say that”, I felt multiple feel-
ings: shock, anger, disappointment, hurt, fear, and, yes, stupidity. I took
an evening to calm down and think it through. I realised she was the
expert in what could and could not be said, so I knuckled down and
made the changes. Despite the rush, that worried me less than the anx-
iety about facing her. Despite our long and easy working relationship,
this was suddenly high stakes. Her model of owning up to the error
was inspiring; a lesson I will not forget as a supervisor. This time she
was right; other times, I was and she was happy when I successfully
defended my viewpoint.
The Doldrums
And when I lie becalmed out on the ocean, you’re the breeze
upon my cheek
The light that leads me home
The moon-path on the foam
You’re everything I seek
Somewhere in the voyage, the doctoral sailor enters the doldrums:

a place of calm, but not productive or desirable calm. This is stagnation,
294
J. Donovan
inactivity, procrastination. It can be a sad, depressing, frustrating expe-

rience. It may occur more than once. Like the cross-Equatorial sailors of
old, the lack of wind leaves the sailor trapped for days or weeks, going
nowhere. This is when the supervisor needs the wisdom to know how
long to leave the sailor there, to see if they can move forward on their
own cognisance, and when to be the breeze upon their cheek.
Academics I have met have often spoken of being stuck at some time.
Procrastination becomes the game, involving avoidance of the com-
puter, colleagues, and supervisors. Few articles on doctoral research
directly address this phase, an exception being Di Napoli (Batchelor
& Di Napoli, 2006) who states it is important to be “becalmed” as it
results in the germination of better ideas. However, Di Napoli stresses
the importance of the supervisor in helping the student to understand
not only where they are, and where they need to move to, but also who
they are and who they might become. Sometimes this is sufficient to
regain momentum; other times, serendipity steps in. Mindless browsing
might just turn up a key concept; a chance conversation may illuminate
the dark spaces in the mind. It may be the supervisor’s nod of approval,
or encouraging words such as I know you can do this, that is the turning
point.
After the storm, the doctoral skies stayed clear for some time, despite
being marooned by floods for three months in the tiny, but hospitable
town of Coonamble. Again, this was a time of intense work and writing
progress. One paper was at the publishers and another was on the way.
Finances were dwindling, and in my third year of scholarship, I began
applying for jobs. This took time and energy away from the thesis, and
interviews, though positive, did not initially result in success. It was
easy to lose heart and hit the doldrums. The thoughtful wisdom and
unshakeable faith of my supervisor were essential qualities that kept me
going, as did her genuine pleasure when I secured a temporary position.
Though that did not turn out as expected, and the work-related stress
affected my progress with my thesis, I was able to complete my second
paper, a mammoth effort of 20,000 words, and have it accepted and
published.
My doldrums came later in my doctoral journey; for others, it hap-
pens after the first flush of enthusiasm wears off. Whenever it occurs,
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it can be unsettling. Torn between job applications, finishing the paper,

and my thesis, I couldn’t decide what to do, so briefly, I did none of
them. The encouragement from my supervisor, and gentle guidance
on what to focus on this week and then next week pulled me through.
Landing a job seemed serendipitous: even though stressful, it relieved
some financial pressure and contributed to my winning a far better
position later.
The Trade Winds

You’re my morning and my evening star, the Pointers that
I steer by
When I’m sailing near or far
You’re my rudder and my keel, my mainsail and wheel
As long as you are nearby
Eventually, the doctoral sailor moves out of the doldrums and enters
the trade winds. The journey moves forward, picks up speed, with a
clear sense of direction. Now the sailor is becoming the captain and the
supervisors become part of the crew, the tools the captain uses to con-
tinue the journey. They still need to be nearby, but they are no longer in
control.
This encompasses the transition from autonomous learner to self-
directed learner (Rockinson-Szapkiw & Spaulding, 2014). From shared
control (Pyhältö et al., 2012), the doctoral candidate becomes capable
of substantially controlling the research themselves.
With my partner’s encouragement, I ended my work role to focus
full time on finishing the thesis. A completion scholarship helped
considerably. Now I was in the trade winds, and it was full sail ahead
for the shore. My supervisor had always been quick to read my work
and to return it with comments and amendments throughout. At that
time, I accepted that as the norm; it was not until later I realised how
rare that can be. In these final stages, that capacity of hers was at full
strength and was of utmost importance. I was churning out words at
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J. Donovan
astonishing speed, writing and polishing, bringing together the many

threads of my work. Her skill at keeping these threads in her head,
alongside those of other students and her own work, was astonishing.
Our goal was an elegant thesis with all the connections clear and no
loose ends.
My supervisor gently let go, so gently, I scarcely noticed it at first.
There was no sense of abandonment, nor was there a coup. I simply
realised one day that I was steering the ship and she was right behind
me. She was still working hard, but now in a supporting role, polishing
words rather than generating them. I remember feeling very satisfied at
having attained that expertise.
Land Ahoy
And when I lie becalmed out on the ocean, you’re the breeze
upon my cheek
The light that leads me home
The moon-path on the foam
You’re everything I seek
Now, this verse takes on a new meaning. The land ahead helps the sailor
move forward. Unloading the thesis is the home towards which the
light is pointing. Days and nights blur as the sailor, weary, but with the
scent of victory in the air, works to achieve their goal, to reach their des-
tination. At that point, a completed thesis is everything they seek.
Becker (2004) suggests that the timing of writing up is unique to
each student, and advises establishing mutual expectations early with
supervisors. How writing influences thinking and how to handle edits
and rewrites are important discussion points. Becker points out most
graduates can tell of sleepless nights, anxiety, and frenzied activity in
the last few weeks; these are normal. Expect them but remain positive.
Planning, flexibility, and the use of visual maps can all assist the writ-
ing process. Becker comments that a word count that looked daunting
at the beginning usually seems too small by the end. She suggests not
297
stressing over this at the start, but to keep an eye on it, and be more
aggressive about allotting word counts to sections towards the end.
The end game took longer than expected. Fiddly work of pagination,
headings, table of contents, lists of figures, writing acknowledgements,
triple checking the references: this was both exciting and frustrating.
A small task like using Roman numerals for the front pages and Arabic
numerals for the rest of the thesis could take hours to accomplish, find-
ing a way around the software’s desire to “autocorrect” everything. The
moon-path led to a set submission date, and reaching that date with
an elegant thesis ready to hand in was everything I sought. The final
support, the last checks, the encouraging “It’s nearly there” saw me
through. My supervisor was awesome at this time: encouraging, critical,
and on the ball with all the loose ends. She more than applied the prin-
ciples of good supervision, she excelled. I aim to emulate her.
Unloading the Cargo

This is both exciting and an anticlimax. The dreamed-of day of sub-
mission is here. How is this momentous occasion celebrated, if at all?
Becker’s otherwise thorough guide (2004) leaps from writing up to
moving on and considering your future career. No words offered about
that endpoint, handing the thesis in, and the strangely disconcerting
feeling that brings. From a period of intense work, there is suddenly
nothing to do but wait. I was grateful my supervisor had warned me
it would be a couple of months at least before I heard, especially with
Christmas and New Year looming. As it happens, it was four long
months as one of my examiners was ill and requested an extension.
There needs to be something in the literature to support candidates
through this “twilight zone”.
My voyage of four years ended with my handing over a box of tem-
porarily bound theses and receiving a mug that said PhinisheD in
return! At least it was something; at some universities, there would
be nothing to mark the occasion. Triumphant photos with my
supervisor and my long-suffering partner, and a celebratory dinner.
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J. Donovan
Then the anxious wait for the results. The cargo I created from noth-
ing and nurtured for so long was despatched to strangers, awaiting their
judgement. I moved on, crossing the continent to commence a new
job—part of academia and yet not quite there. A sensible decision was
to wait, not to order a name badge, a plaque for the door, or business
cards until my doctorate was confirmed. Yet this left me as an academic-
in-waiting, 90% there but 10% wondering. I was confident I had done
a good job, doubly so in that I knew my supervisor would never have
let me submit anything less than an elegant thesis. Yet you can never
second-guess those who will be reading it. If the research is genuinely
novel, original, it is bound to stir up someone, somewhere. You just
hope it is not your examiners!
When the result finally came, it was a huge relief. I had passed! Now
it was real, I belonged; I was part of the academy. There was still the
hurdle, mercifully minor in my case, of responding to the examiners’
comments to make minor changes to the thesis. I completed mine in
a weekend, but others are not so lucky. For them it must be a terrible
grind to revisit this tome, perhaps six months after submission, when
they have moved on. Serious rewriting could be even more frustrating
than the doldrums. When the supervisors have also moved on, they
may need to encourage the student at this dark hour. I am immensely
grateful that was not my lot.
Does the supervisor’s role end when the final thesis is accepted and
the testamur received? No, if it has been truly successful; the relation-
ship changes to one of colleagues. The senior colleague is now a cham-
pion and friend, someone to whom the junior colleague can still look
for advice. I can honestly say that is my experience.
I acknowledge this would not be for everyone—where I found travel
refreshing, it would be too distracting for some. Self-discipline and
open email communication were essential. Yet for me it was perfect, and
truly a voyage of discovery.
I am grateful for the mug; it takes pride of place in my office. Six years
on and I’ve not dared to drink from it yet, not wanting to stain it! I urge
all universities to find some way of marking this milestone; make it a cli-
max, not an anticlimax. I appreciate that my supervisor stayed in touch
as I relocated and began my new job, and we are still working together.
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A New Crew, Another Voyage

If the new doctor enters academia, chances are they will eventually
become a supervisor; a higher degree student entrusted to their care.
Co-supervision is sensible, for as a new supervisor, they have new ropes
to learn. New challenges as new relationships must be forged, amongst
the supervisors as well as with the student. Mutual trust and respect
must be established, strengths and weaknesses acknowledged, a fair dis-
tribution of the workload, and agreement reached by all parties. It is
inevitable that the new doctor will bring with them what they learned
during their own voyage, but they must also be cognisant that this is a
new crew and a new voyage about to begin.
Pyhältö et al. (2012) found that pedagogical problems were the main
issues cited by 669 Finnish doctoral students surveyed. These clustered
around supervisory issues and suggested that supervisory pedagogy
needed development. This is not a new idea: Lee and Williams (1999)
reports that Bottomley noted such shortcomings in 1973. Lee and
Williams (1999) also found that supervisors (particularly males) tend to
supervise as they were supervised; perpetuating alienating and painful
experiences. Even some female supervisors felt that a student had to be
“blooded” i.e. to be cut off in order to find their way to autonomy. Lee
and Williams revealed a “complicated picture of investment and ambiv-
alence” (p. 19) as new supervisors pick up the badge of supervision.
I now have eight doctoral students, and a ninth has completed their
journey. I have made clear to them my intent to follow the wonderful
role model I experienced. My journey was as successful as possible; my
thesis won a prize. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than for
a student whom I have mentored to achieve similar distinction.
It shocks me to read that some who had negative experiences perpet-
uate these with their own students. Surely, the point of a bad example
is to learn from it, not to emulate it. When I read of the traumas oth-
ers have experienced, I am doubly, triply grateful for my own positive
experiences. I know I have a nurturing nature; I can easily be an anchor,
someone to hold fast to and lean on. I was mindful of also learning
to be a sail; setting them free to chart their own course when they are
ready, and just providing the gentle puffs of encouraging breeze they
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need. This was a challenge I met with my first completed student, ably
assisted by an excellent and experienced co-supervisor as my mentor.
I now have two wonderful examples to follow, so my students will be
as fortunate as I was. Nonetheless, I think universities need to seriously
address this issue and support supervisors not to perpetuate negative
practices but to adopt positive ones.
Conclusion
From the literature, it is easy to become pessimistic about the doctoral
journey. Allusions to perilous realms and being forged in fire hardly
generate confidence in the new candidate seeking to find out what
lies ahead. Yet, for every student who drops out, one attains her or his
doctorate—so is this glass half-full or half-empty? I acknowledge that I
was fortunate; not everyone could accomplish their studies whilst trav-
elling, and not everyone has a great supervisor and a supportive part-
ner. However, none of this happened by accident. It was my decision
to study and travel, and my self-agency selected both my supervisor
and my partner and discerned the right time in my life to bring us all
together for the Ph.D. journey. I hope my positive story might be a bea-
con in the darkness to others—some assurance that not everyone has
nearly to drown during the voyage to doctorhood.
References
Batchelor, D., & Di Napoli, R. (2006). Commentary: The doctoral journey:
Perspectives. Educate, 6(1), 13–24.
Becker, L. M. (2004). How to manage your postgraduate course. Basingstoke,
UK: Palgrave Macmillan.
Delamont, S. (2013). Escaping the perilous realm: Strategies to succeed as
a doctoral student. In E. Lee, C. Blackmore, & E. Seal (Eds.), Research
journeys: A collection of narratives on the doctoral experience (pp. 11–20).
Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars.
301
Lee, A., & Williams, C. (1999). Forged in fire: Narratives of trauma in PhD
supervision pedagogy. Southern Review, 32(1), 6–26.
Pyhältö, K., Toom, A., Stubb, J., & Lonka, K. (2012). Challenges of becoming
a scholar: A study of doctoral students’ problems and well-being [Electronic
version]. International Scholarly Research Notices. 12 pages. Retrieved from
http://www.hindawi.com/journals/isrn/2012/934941/.
Rockinson-Szapkiw, A. J., & Spaulding, L. S. (2014). The nature of the
doctoral journey. In A. J. Rockinson-Szapkiw & L. S. Spaulding (Eds.),
Navigating the doctoral journey: A handbook of strategies for success (pp. 1–6).
London: Rowman & Littlefield.
Schwartz, M. A. (2008). The importance of stupidity in scientific research.
Journal of Cell Science, 121, 1771.
Ségol, G. (2014). Choosing a dissertation topic: Additional pointers. College
Student Journal, 48(1), 108–113.
17
The Effects of Unsupportive
Supervision on Doctorate Completions
Robert Templeton
Introduction
The retention and completion of doctoral research candidates have tra-
ditionally had variable success, with some candidates withdrawing, while
others do not complete their doctorates within the required time con-
straints (Kiley, 2011b). Kiley (2011a) suggests that the “single most
important factor in student decisions to continue or withdraw” is
the student–supervisor relationship, which can be supportive or non-
supportive to varying levels. The importance of reasonable comple-
tion durations and a lower attrition of these students have become an
increasing focus of Australian universities.
The reasons for candidate attrition or delayed completion are varia-
ble. One of the more important contributions to an increased number
of completions, which contributes also to shorter durations to com-
pletion, is the value/quality of candidate supervision. This is being
R. Templeton (*)
e-mail: r_templeton@iprimus.com.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_17
304
R. Templeton
scrutinised by a number of universities in Australia (Kiley, 2011b).

Candidate supervision of doctoral students involves both administrative
and relationship factors that can contribute to a decrease in both attri-
tion and time to completion.
The supervision pedagogies experienced by the three participants
in the research are discussed within this chapter as a demonstration of
the importance of the student–supervisor relationship. Unsupportive
behaviour of the supervisors is referred to as “benign neglect”, which is
defined by the Oxford Dictionary as: “Non-interference that is intended
to benefit someone or something more than continual attention would”
(Oxford Dictionaries, 2016). The experiences of doctoral candidates
and the expectations of the universities are developed within the current
literature. These expectations are used to ground the empirical data col-
lected to develop the importance of doctoral supervision.
Literature Review
In addition to the notion by Kiley (2011a) of the importance of the
supervisor and student relationship is the effect on the student’s satis-
faction with the relationship which she discusses. She explains further
that satisfaction with this relationship is not only a factor in persistence
or withdrawal but also of timely completion. Examples provided by de
Valero (2001) suggest that those postgraduate faculties that demonstrate
better completion and time to completion characteristics have better
student support processes. Such institutional factors as
financial support, departmental orientation and advising, relationship

between coursework and research skills, requiring significant results in
the dissertation, student-committee relationship, student-advisor relation-
ship, attitudes towards students, student participation, and peer support.
(Kiley, 2011a, p. 589)
may be critical to doctoral completions.

Comparative research undertaken in Australia by Heath (2002) iden-
tified a number of student characteristics of successful completions
17 The Effects of Unsupportive Supervision …
305
including regular meetings with their supervisors with an average fre-

quency of about two weeks, and early rather than later submission of
written work. Students experiencing these types of support were more
satisfied with the feedback from supervisors. Earlier research undertaken
by Latona and Browne (2001) indicated that there are a mix of insti-
tutional and student factors relative to completion of higher degrees.
(Kiley, 2011a, p. 589) supports these factors of “disciplinary differences,
student admission and enrolment characteristics, supervision, student
perceptions and behaviour” in her discussion. Of the supervision fac-
tors identified by Heath, and Latona and Browne, six were considered
to be critical to student completion. These critical factors, cited by
Kiley (2011a, p. 589) are the “provision of appropriate feedback, the
frequency of meetings, positive candidate/supervisor relationships, and
keeping to the same topic and supervisor”.
In their Final Report, Hammond, Ryland, Tennant, and Boud
(2010) suggest that many current supervisors developed their super-
visory skills from experiential knowledge. These supervisors learned
from their own experiences of being supervised as research students
and as co-supervisors of other doctoral students. They regard doctoral
supervision as part of their academic practice according to Halse and
Malfroy (2010). Such supervisory skills and knowledge practised within
Australian universities are part of a pedagogic model which had been
adopted from the;
British (Oxbridge) model of supervision; that is, a substantial one-to-one

relationship between candidate and supervisor, and with little in the way
of formal coursework. While many Australian universities are moving to
a panel or co-supervisory system of supervision, the quality of the main
supervisor has been the focus of much attention. (Kiley, 2011b, p. 587)
That is, the traditional model of research supervision has been the
master–apprentice relationship. Such a model is hierarchical in applica-
tion. Hammond et al. (2010) and Halse and Malfroy (2010) suggested
that a collegial model utilising collaborative knowledge-sharing activi-
ties by supervisory panels, group supervisors and peer groups would be
more appropriate. Such models are based on the conceptions of research
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R. Templeton
and the development of reflective practice (Halse & Malfroy, 2010;

Wisker & Kiley, 2014). These supervisory models attempt to meet the
knowledge production requirements of research doctorates especially
with the changing demographics of the doctoral student cohort. With
the provision of open access to tertiary education, the proportion of
non-traditional part-time mid-career students began to surpass the pro-
portion of traditional school-leaver students.
The development of a collegial supervisory model has been n ecessary
to meet the learning needs of this increasing proportion of “non-
traditional” students undertaking doctoral education. Such students are
generally within the 30–40 years age group who have extensive indus-
try experiential knowledge and skills who enrol into research programs
as external students with a professional development focus. On the
increase of doctoral students within Australia Kiley (2011a) notes that
…there has certainly been a substantial increase in the number of doc-

toral candidates, with the doctorate being: ‘one of the fastest growing
higher education qualifications, nearly doubling in yearly completion size
[1996–2007] to 5,721 completions in 2007. These increases included a
growth of 89% in domestic enrolments for the same period with women
candidates making up 50% of Australia’s doctoral enrolment. (Kiley,
2011a, p. 586)
Doctoral pedagogic models of support and supervision have now

become focused on digital media. These models developed with a col-
legial culture which allowed for the recognition of previously learned
skills and knowledge while retaining the supervisor–student roles. That
is, the supervisory role became more supportive and advisory in nature
which introduced a conversational style of communication between the
student and supervisor (Hammond et al., 2010). Supervisory access
for external doctoral students was becoming an “on demand” system
of communication undertaken using emails and audio/video computer
software. Thus the collegial models of supervision introduced a “teach-
ing relationship between two equally powerful, rational, and autono-
mous adults” (Manathunga, 2005, p. 19; Wisker & Kiley, 2014) with a
focus on role and responsibility mutuality.
307
The development of this type of communication resulted in the situa-

tion where student contact with the institution was predominantly with
the student’s supervisors. Such communication, by default, ensured
that while the supervisor was in many relationships (Wisker & Kiley,
2014) that this was the only communication the student had with the
institution. This resulted in the supervisor becoming the administrative
point of contact for some student enquiries. That is, the supervisor was
not only responsible for the doctoral advisory supervision but also the
administration for the institution as suggested by Kiley (2011a). Thus,
there developed a need to undertake training of supervisors to meet the
demands of doctoral students.
Training of supervisors and potential supervisors is at the discretion
and guidance of the university. Such training invariably involves the
administrative aspects of supervision and includes some relationship
skills (Manathunga, 2005). Halse and Malfroy (2010) consider that
there are five lenses to doctoral supervision. These include “the learn-
ing alliance, habits of mind, scholarly expertise, technè and contextual
expertise” (p. 83). That is, the supervisor and the student should have
mutual understanding of the doctoral requirements while the supervi-
sor is required to have a disposition and mode of behaviour to support
the student; a substantive knowledge of the topic under research; has a
creative and productive use of expert knowledge; and a knowledge and
understanding of the institutional and disciplinary context of doctoral
study. As such, doctoral supervision is considered to be a specialised
form of “professional work”.
According to Kiley (2011a) approximately one half of the supervi-
sor training programs were of one-day duration. Training programs
included such topics as the relationships between supervisors and stu-
dents and the expectations and roles of doctoral candidates, candidate
progress, supervisor responsibilities and an overview of the institute’s
policies regarding research candidates. Only some of the lengthier pro-
grams offered instruction and training in the areas of relationship break-
downs; cross-cultural relationships; research team development; thesis
examination; publication and intellectual property advice.
Manathunga (2005) suggests that supervisor educational devel-
opment can be problematic due to the resistance of some academics.
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R. Templeton
As universities sought to reduce the intensity of individual supervision

by advocating team supervision practices, some academics perceived this
as encroaching on their personal supervision space. Individual supervi-
sors have personal teaching and learning perspectives which are founded
in their implicit assumptions, identities and practices. These individual-
ised pedagogic practices were perceived to be in conflict with the newer
team based doctoral supervision approaches. The team approaches
were seen as reducing the power and influence by some academics who
resented such a system and power sharing (Manathunga, 2005).
The rationale of supervisor training was to enhance the retention
rates and subsequently the completion rates of doctoral candidates.
However, as indicated by Kiley (2011a, p. 586) Australian doctoral
completions are approximately 53% of the doctoral student cohort for
the years 1992–1999. Within this group, 18% had not completed but
were engaged in their doctoral studies in 1999 and suggesting that 30%
were not studying and had not completed within this period. Later
completion research by Abiddin (2011, p. 15) indicates that the attri-
tion rate of doctoral students in Australia was about 40% for the period
1992–2003. While such attrition rates among doctoral candidates are
reported, the proportion that is attributable to the student–supervisor
relationship is not.
Methodology
The empirical qualitative data presented in this paper was collected as
part of a thesis for the author’s Doctor of Education degree. This eth-
nographic data was collected during 2013 and 2014 by written ques-
tionnaire and personal interviewing following an Ethics Approval from
the University of Southern Queensland. The research participants were
recruited from email responses to a request for participants posted
within the members’ newsletter of professional associations. The study
sought to explain the sociological outcomes and the affectedness on
the student of unsupportive doctoral supervisors with a phenomeno-
logical insight (Moustakas, 1994) and using thematic analysis (Guest,
MacQueen, & Namey, 2011) to identify themes within the data.
309
Student voices are included as student narrative to support the phenom-

enological experiences of the students.
The data was analysed and themed using NVivo software from tran-
scribed video and audio conversations with three participants from dif-
fering Australian universities. The original transcripts were emailed to
the participants to ensure clarity of transcription and for additional data
to be added by the participants. The data applicable to the topic of this
paper was extracted and is presented within the Discussion of the data.
Participant names are pseudonyms reflecting the author’s perception of
their personality.
Discussion of the Data

Two of the three participants had withdrawn for their doctoral research
programs citing issues with the student–supervisor relationship. Benign
neglect occurs where the student is effectively abandoned, that is a doc-
toral orphan (Wisker & Robinson, 2013) thereby forcing the student to
undertake the doctoral process on their own without the guidance and
input of a supervisor. The circumstances and effect on the students are
provided in their narratives of the situations.
According to Beth, her supervision experiences were immedi-
ately apparent upon relocating to the particular university where
she had accepted a Doctor of Philosophy scholarship attached to a
Commonwealth Government research funding project. She articulates
her experiences with the supervision process as being disappointing and
the reason for her withdrawing from the Ph.D. program.
The difficulties [were] with the supervision process. I had a supervisory

panel of three people, one of them my main supervisor was who had got
the money through the ARC for the research which two PhD scholarships
were attached to. I had one of those scholarships. There was the second
supervisor [who] was relocated from the university [and] was studying at
to another university interstate and the third supervisor, I really think his
name was on the ARC application and as part of my supervisory panel
just because he was a person well known in the [region].
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R. Templeton
Beth is describing the research abilities and the relationships of the

three members of the supervisory panel. She is also alluding to the tri-
adic power relations between the university, supervisor and student.
The academic conflict between individual supervisors and supervisory
panels as suggested by Manathunga (2005) may cause a withdrawal
of candidate support. Such conflict would also involve the university
as the educational institute and employer of the doctoral supervisors
in addition to the provision of doctoral education which affects the
student. Thus there are three power relations within doctoral edu-
cation: between the university as the employer and the researcher as
the supervisor; between the supervisor and the student as master and
apprentice (Kiley, 2011a); and between the university and the student,
the client.
However, Beth articulates her relationship with the panel members
and her main supervisor with;
…and as I had no real personal or professional respect for my main

supervisor I worked out very quickly that as I came up a few months
before my scholarship started to actually help this person to write up
some research he’d been doing and I knew [in] about a month, less
than two months into my PhD that it wasn’t for me. Working with
this person was not going to give me the experience that I wanted.
I didn’t think I was going to learn anything from him, he had, let’s
say some sort of… that I really had no personal or professional respect
for him but unfortunately the scholarship was tied to the funding
which he had acquired, so there was no way of taking the scholarship
elsewhere.
Beth’s loss of respect was the result of the supervisory panel not
meeting her expectations of doctoral study. Her expectations were that
supervisors would be collegial, sharing their knowledge and research
experiences, accessible and interested and supportive of her doctoral
progress. Instead, she was abandoned to undertake the research in iso-
lation as the Principal Supervisor considered that she had the industry
experience and ability to complete the requirements of a research doc-
torate without supervision.
311
I thought, is it a problem to mature aged students that, on my CV I have

a lot of research experience, project management experience and my
supervisor actually said in a meeting [with] my three supervisors “Oh I
don’t think she needs supervision”.
In this way, Beth’s expectations of doctoral research differed from the

process she had encountered. What she had encountered was a super-
visory panel that seemed to be more interested in their own research
careers and who agreed to accept the scholarships attached to the
research grant to fund their own interests. She does admit that her per-
ception of doctoral research was naïve and that she should have applied
greater academic governance to the scholarship and the researcher who
was her supervisor.
One of the effects on Beth was to criticise the university in addi-
tion to the supervisory panel. She explains that her disappointment
with the university was focused on her involvement in promoting the
academic achievements of the university, an involvement that was not
reciprocated. According to Beth, she assisted in the organisation of
postgraduate seminar for students within the university and presented
a paper at The Australian Sociological Association (TASA) Conference
in Perth. During this conference, her criticism of supervisor access was
reinforced.
In Perth I went to the postgraduate day and one of the sessions I attended
was ‘How to manage your supervisor’. There was myself and another
mature aged student all the rest were people in their 20’s. The man pre-
senting the session had 8 PhD students that he was supervising. He gave
them an hour a week and his part-time students had an hour a fortnight.
Virtually all the other students in the room had an hour a week and this
man and I were sitting there shaking our heads. “I’m lucky if I can get an
hour a month” and [the other student] he said the same thing.
What Beth is narrating is a form of benign neglect, that of a lack of

supportive access to her supervisor. The effect on her doctoral research
ambitions was that she withdrew from her enrolment after twelve
months. She had not attempted to seek reinstatement of her enrolment
312
R. Templeton
at the time of the interviews and indicates that there has been no com-
munication with her supervisors since her withdrawal.
Clare commenced her doctoral studies by accepting a Ph.D. scholar-
ship attached to a funded research project. She had similar Ph.D. expec-
tations to Beth; that of a doctoral journey with your supervisor. Clare
was attached to her faculty as a lecturer while undertaking her Ph.D. She
describes her relationship with her supervisor as one of admiration for his
ethics and research. However, in relation to his supervisory skills she says
there are these three positions where your supervisor motivates you and
there can be supervision where your supervisor learns with you and there
can be supervision by abandonment. It’s a really an old model of supervi-
sion where it’s “well now your enrolled you go off and do your PhD and
come back to me when it’s done”. So he was supervising by the aban-
donment model. I had actually needed a lot more intellectual guidance.
I didn’t feel I could walk into his office “I’ve been reading this or I’ve writ-
ten this, what do you think” it was more like “go away write a chapter
and bring it back to me” and I think in the very early stages with a PhD
at least everybody needs more than that. I have witnessed other people
who have got through their PhD’s quicker and with less angst. It has been
knowing that you are in agreement about and what you are working on,
how you’re working on it and what input from your supervisor is going to
be. And I just didn’t have that with my supervisor.
Clare was withdrawn from her Doctor of Philosophy candidacy

after ten years by her university for non-completion. The reason for her
non-completion is provided in her narrative of the situation;
My last supervisor was described as a-social and one other thing about
him is that a couple of years into my PhD he left and went to work in
[overseas] so I actually didn’t have a supervisor. Firstly, I didn’t even know
he had gone and so I didn’t know who my new supervisor was and it was
all a bit sad.
After a three year hiatus, she has now recommenced her doctoral jour-
ney under the support and guidance of a new supervisor. She contrasts
the two experiences in her interview.
313
Well actually I worked with my current supervisor at a different univer-

sity; I worked with him as his research associate. I had an academic posi-
tion with him for 3 years paid by money from one of his research grants.
We had a great working relationship and I did some brilliant projects
with him and he’s much more approachable. I’m a bit older now and a bit
more confident too so I’m much more able to deal with him. I’m not so
frightened of the professors if you know what I mean; he’s just a different
personality to my last supervisor. With [him] I just have a much better
personal relationship with him and I know how to work with him; you
know we have a much better working relationship. I work with [him] in
a research group, there are three of us. We go to [his] house and we work
on papers together…
In her narrative, Clare has contrasted the effect of benign neglect by

supervisor abandonment with a supportive supervisory relationship.
The differences between the two styles demonstrate one of the causes of
student withdrawal and persistence. Poor or non-existent supervision as
observed by the effects of benign neglect and abandonment do result in
the withdrawal either voluntarily or compulsorily of the doctoral candi-
date. In contrast, the provision of a supportive style of supervision can
encourage doctoral completion.
John withdrew from his doctoral candidacy due to medical rea-
sons; to recover from a farm accident. His doctoral supervisor is
supportive which has provided John with the persistence to com-
plete his doctorate after his recuperation period. He indicates that
his relationship with his supervisor is supportive but believes that
his supervisor is overworked which is a situation he attributes to the
university (see also Murray and Clayton in this volume). This he
articulates with:
he personally is not the issue, the issue is on the institution giving him
too much work, so there’s the whole thing about him being overworked.
You can’t blame him; you can blame the situation they find themselves in
institutionally. And the way that universities are being squeezed; there’s
way too much paperwork. Basically, I also think he’s giving some of his
students too much time. I don’t think he can do much better than what
he’s doing.
314
R. Templeton
John believes that his supervisor is attempting to do his best within

the constraints of the university’s policies relating to doctoral supervision.
He seems to accept that his supervisor’s style of supervision is appro-
priate and that he has sufficient access to his supervisor for advice and
guidance. John’s supervisor appears to provide a supportive supervisory
environment that encourages candidates to complete their doctorates.
John’s experiences with doctoral supervision are different from those
of Beth and Clare in that he has admiration for his supervisor. While he
indicates that his supervisor is overworked due to the supervisory work-
load imposed by the employing university, he is also empathetic to his
supervisor’s situation. His experiences contrast those of Clare and Beth
and represent a doctoral pedagogy that is supportive and collaborative
and inclined to ensure student doctoral completion. When questioned
as to the access he has to his supervisor, John states:
He doesn’t do online, I don’t know why - it’s a bit insane because then I
could sort of update things very quickly. I mean he personally is not the
issue; the issue is on the institution giving him too much work so there’s
the whole thing about him being overworked. You can’t blame him; you
can blame the situation they find themselves in institutionally…So basi-
cally I work as much as in my office at home. I go in there. I’m lucky if
it’s two weeks - usually about a month.
Conclusion
Supportive supervisory styles are important to the completion aspira-
tions of many doctoral candidates. Poor supervisory practices such as
benign neglect or abandonment do result in the withdrawal of doctoral
candidates, contributing to the high non-completion rate of candi-
dates. The experiences of Beth and Clare demonstrated the importance
of appropriate doctoral supervision in terms of a collegiate relationship
with one’s supervisor. The effects of these unsatisfactory supervi-
sory experiences are that Beth has not recommenced her doctorate,
while Clare lost approximately 13 years in her ambition to become a
university lecturer and researcher.
315
Other outcomes of the research include the notion that experi-

enced researchers may not necessarily be competent research super-
visors. Such an unsupportive doctoral pedagogy may be that the
primary interest is in research and not teaching (Kiley, 2009). John
has not experienced the supervisory issues of collegiality and access
of Beth and Clare, indicating the variable quality of the supervision
of doctoral students. This quality is more inherent in the individual
supervisor than in the institutions that need to monitor the suitability
of individual academics/researchers to undertake higher degree
research student supervision (Manathunga, 2005). While the uni-
versity should have the authoritative power as the employer, supervisors
maintain operational power, and students have the power to with-
draw their candidacy. Within this triadic power arrangement, the
power of the student to withdraw has a greater effect on the doc-
toral process. This must be recognised and accepted by the triad to
increase doctorate completions. A withdrawing student could be
another university’s new doctoral research student; a phenomenon
recognised by Kiley (2011a).
There is a need to develop supportive doctoral pedagogies and to
eliminate poor supervision practices, thus encouraging more doc-
toral candidates to complete their research studies. According to
the literature on doctoral supervision, some universities have devel-
oped pre-supervisory and ongoing supervisory training for their
research supervisors. Such practices by the universities can only
improve the supervision quality of supervisors. Included within
these training programmes should be the necessity of providing a
supportive and consultative environment in the supervisor–student
relationship.
The notion that the student–supervisor relationship is the “sin-
gle most important factor in student decisions to continue or with-
draw” (Kiley, 2011a, p. 588) is supported by the current research
data. Supervisors are expected to teach, motivate, counsel and offer
research topic guidance to their research students to counter self-
doubt, anxieties and the many other aspects of the research higher
degree environment.
316
R. Templeton
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0/07294360.2012.657160.
Part IV
Travelling Through the Doctorate
Introduction
Te six chapters in the fnal part of this book aford opportunities to
distil broader lessons and to synthesise wider vistas related to travers-
ing the doctorate. Having explored diverse approaches to designing the
doctorate, supervising the doctorate and developing relationships in the
doctorate, it is time to focus on specifc aspects of identity formation
and contestation, as well as on pragmatic strategies, associated with
maximising success in doctoral students’ journeys. As with the previous
parts in the book, the conditions and contexts framing these chapters
are distinctive, even unique, yet many elements of these accounts of
travelling through and beyond the doctorate resonate resoundingly with
doctoral students, supervisors and administrators around the world.
In Chapter 18, Clayton Lawrence elaborates the learning dimension
of the frst year of his doctoral study by posing the profound question,
“How did I get here?”, and by linking his responses to that question
with the interplay between being and becoming as a transformative pro-
ject. Employing autoethnography and refexivity as his research method,
the author traverses several conceptions of learning to posit metánoia as
320 Part IV: Travelling Through the Doctorate
a fundamental changing of one’s mind that is often associated with the

important shifts in worldview connected with doctoral study, and that
is connected also with the eddies and fows of being and becoming a
researcher.
Joanne Doyle uses Chapter 19 to demonstrate the benefts of deploy-
ing a project management approach to completing the doctoral study,
thereby enhancing the likelihood of staying on track in such study.
Illustrating her narrative with her own experiences and those of fel-
low doctoral students, the author organises her analysis around the
themes of product (planning and achieving the right deliverables), peo-
ple (assembling and managing the right team) and process (setting and
monitoring the right targets). Project management emerges as an efec-
tive set of tools for achieving doctoral program success.
Other approaches to attaining such doctoral study success are
adduced in Chapter 20, written by Jessica Z. Marrington and Evita
March. Teir chapter builds on their critical refection on their personal
experiences and their critical incident analyses to elicit six suggested
strategies clustered around the key milestones of confrmation of candi-
dature and thesis submission for external examination. Tese strategies
derive from the authors’ experientially developed knowledge and at the
same time extend understandings gleaned from contemporary scholar-
ship in this feld.
In Chapter 21, Lindy Kimmins adopts a similar combination of
experiential and theoretical knowledge to arrive at diferent conclusions.
She explains how her doctoral research emerged relatively late in her
career, after many years of designing and implementing a peer-assisted
learning program linking novice students with more experienced
learners. Te author draws vividly on Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
and Alice Trough the Looking-Glass to exemplify how traversing her the-
sis in reverse worked for her.
Robert Templeton elucidates in Chapter 22 the crucial connections
among doctoral study, depression and the self. Te author’s autoethno-
graphic account of his own doctoral journey while living with depres-
sion highlights an aspect of travelling through the doctorate that is
familiar to many other doctoral students. His profered strategies,
centred on motivation, cognition, sociability and moods, and directed
Part IV: Travelling Through the Doctorate 321
at recognising depression and enacting self-help, constitute a timely

reminder of the continued impact of the afective domain on doctoral
program success.
Finally in this part and in the book, Chapter 23 is deployed by
Kevin Larkin to look forward by investigating the transition between
doctoral student and early career academic. Te author mobilises activ-
ity systems theory as a robust conceptual framework, combined with
the insights yielded by communities of practice, to trace his personal
transformation in undertaking this transition. Te chapter also presents
a new conceptual model focused on a relational approach to under-
standing the individual–social dichotomy evident in contemporary
workplaces—including the traversing of doctoral study programs.
18
A Transforming Researcher:
How Did I Get Here? The Life
of a First-Year Student Undertaking
the Doctor of Education
Clayton Lawrence
Setting the Scene

For this chapter, I am adopting a research method of the autoethno-
graphic research dimension requiring the use of reflexivity as its method
for its research, literally to “write about oneself ”. This autoethnography
exercise is where I enter a “dialogic event” using qualitative research as
its methodology interacting with literature about learning. This reflective
process is deliberate, systematic and thoughtful, thinking over one’s past
critical moments and incidents examining this transformative learning.
An Introduction
Hi, my name is Clayton and I am currently enrolled in the postgradu-
ate studies of the Doctor of Education programme, otherwise known
C. Lawrence (*)
e-mail: claytonl@netspace.net.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_18
324
C. Lawrence
as the DEDU. I was accepted by the submission of the preliminary

research project outline addressing the key question, “How do work-
ers within the construction industry approach/respond to requirements
for ongoing professional development as part of an integrated manage-
ment system?” An integrated management system is where quality prac-
tices work beside safety practices, ensuring that environmental controls
are implemented via management systems. As I progressed through
the core courses to undertake the research, the proposed title became:
“How do we align professional development in the workplace with the
needs and standards associated with integrated management systems?”
The research that I am about to undertake builds upon my previous
studies and experiences. The Master of Education of Lifelong Learning,
entitled “Why do we do what we do? A personal reflective inquiry into
lifelong learning with personal and professional development within the
construction industry”, gave personal focus upon my vocational career.
It was my Bachelor of Engineering (Civil) degree and my honours pro-
ject, “An investigation of construction productivity”, that gave me the
formal foundation where my vocational career began.
Experiences with my vocational career spanned small family busi-
nesses, trade contractors and construction contractors within the civil
and construction industries. The roles that I had performed with these
businesses ranged from Drafter to Quality, Safety and Environmental
Manager, and Site Engineer/Project Administrator. Further indus-
try involvement included course writing, teaching/training, technical
administering and course coordinating whilst working for industry asso-
ciation, registered training organisations and colleges in Queensland,
Australia. This involved everything from English conversation classes
through to course material publications such as General Safety
Induction, a Business Management Course and the Certificate IV in
General Construction for trade workers and builders.
In explaining to others, especially with my fellow students, I often say
that I have worked in the capacity of ‘in’, ‘with’ and ‘for’ the construc-
tion and civil industry. ‘In’ is explained as to where I did my cadetship
whilst I was working and completing undergraduate studies. Working
and studying simultaneously enabled me to apply what was learnt to the
workplace environment.
18 A Transforming Researcher: How Did I Get Here? …
325
‘With’ industry included the period in my vocational career assisting

trade and principal contractors with business in a professional capacity.
This was where I worked with applied management system strategies for
businesses to gain third party accreditation for quality, safety and envi-
ronment management systems.
‘For’ industry was a period in my vocational career where I worked
with an industry association in its training and licensing department
working in the role of technical administrator. As the technical adminis-
trator, I carried out tasks that included course preparation and material
writing, coordinating the publication of training material and training
the trainers in delivering courses and units, delivering training, assess-
ment and validation processes. The delivery of these courses gave me the
opportunity to network with industry bodies such as the Building Code
of Australia, the Queensland Department of Training and Education,
the Queensland Department of Safety and the Queensland Building
Services Authority. ‘For’ industry embraced the concept of being along-
side the businesses where I provided an applied body of knowledge for
continual development and improvement of integrated management
systems for the benefit of the business. This is where my experience,
education and competence contributed to the improvement and accred-
itation of systems to international and national Australian standards.
This gave me the capacity with working ‘for’ other businesses, placing
me in the positions of working with accrediting bodies for compliance
and certification against international standards of quality, safety and
environmental management systems.
As I pursued postgraduate studies in the DEDU program, there has
been an underlying personal desire throughout my vocation with a
dream of fulfilling a personal lifetime goal. As I look back and reflect
where I have been vocationally, I see a progression to that of researcher
where transformation has occurred working across the industry. Senge
(1990) tells how, when being committed to a vision and having a sense
of enrolment, “there is a want for it and will to make it happen doing
whatever can be done” (p. 218). When reflecting upon this journey, I
sense and have this understanding as feeling fully responsible for the
vision to happen, genuinely wanting it to occur, where Senge concisely
sums it up.
326
C. Lawrence
Working in the area of my proposed research, I believe that there

has been a lack of research, needing a further re-look into the life of
a construction and civil worker. In my experience, I have discovered a
misalignment in learning from the workplace when approaching and
responding to an integrated management system. Yet I realise in reflect-
ing on this journey now as a first-year student what is important to me
in becoming a researcher wanting to understand more about the learner
in the industry that I am in. I believe that this personal vision under-
taking the doctoral studies will ‘mould’ and ‘create’ lifelong learning
characteristics, generating and raising competencies in my own personal
development, in so doing providing direction for others to learn and be
transformed.
What Learning Is to Me
Learning to me, at certain times of my life can be an enigma or, it can
be formal and structured approach. Its development, analysis and explo-
ration, with a simple word search on Google returns 4,660,000,000
hits. Even attempting to arrive at a definition, the definition itself has
transformed through time.
There has been considerable advancement in the understanding of
‘learning’ with the journey of self-discovery and learning at a global
level. Learning to me, using recognised global scholars has become
summarised as: Learning, ‘involves all life’ (Kolb, 1984, p. 32),
encompassing that, ‘which is about life and learning to be’ (Brown &
Duguid, 2000, p. 128). Learning is about ‘interpreting, reasoning, and
reflecting’ (Jonassen, Peck, & Wilson, 1999, p. 2) about life, ‘bring-
ing a metánoia, change’ (Senge, 1990, pp. 13–14), where choice and
action takes place. Learning becomes, for me, about, ‘challenging prej-
udices and habitual assumptions’ (Popper, 1979, p. 148), working
from the known to the unknown, being a willing participant, engaging
and connecting with self, others and to the world. For me it’s, ‘not just
information and knowledge, it’s transformative’ (Brown & Duguid,
2000, p. 128). The good and bad, whether proactive or reactive, in
‘learning’, I grow.
327
When reflecting upon this definition of learning, Klob (1984) tells

that learning is about ‘involving all life’ (p. 82). To me, as a student
when undertaking the DEDU this takes passion, drive and ultimately
all life. In understanding my life, just prior to finishing the master’s
study prior to the commencement of the DEDU, I experienced a vol-
untary redundancy where I lost work because of a restructure of the
business I worked at. This left me at a point of my life where I was ques-
tioning whether to continue with my study of the master’s full-time, as
I was at the time studying part-time whilst I was working or, to throw
myself into another role at another business full-time. There was a point
when reflecting upon life and all that had gone before, that life lived, I
was convinced to take this opportunity studying full-time. It saw me
taking the opportunity from a loss of life with employment to a focus
with studying. To me, this moving forward, learning from life circum-
stances and studying full-time was very clear. The study continues to
date, where the loss of employment gave me a focus for my continued
studies. In reflection, this was where learning to me becomes about ‘life’
and ‘living’, moving forward.
Brown and Duguid (2000) tells me more about life and making it
about learning to ‘be’ (p. 128). They consider the moments that make
up life and how we learn about ‘being’, living life in the moment, deal-
ing with the ambiguousness of life, moment to moment. To me, it
was about ‘me’ finding ‘me’, ‘becoming’ and not stopping that ‘being’.
Donald Super presents that this is about the personal evolution of the
individual (Super, 1957 quoted from Patton & McMahon, 2006). This
is where a critical moment in my learning to ‘be’ came about. Learning
from a mentor at the time, he could see that in my anxiousness from the
loss of work and other personal circumstances, taught me to learn about
accepting the ambiguousness of life. The connection with self and focus
upon the moment by moment living, ‘being’, finding confidence in one-
self in the moment. Rather than the bigger picture of ‘life’, it made me
realise that the life of a student not only drew upon the competencies
from my life with the roles I had performed in the past, the moment of
choosing to become a researcher, also bought progression in my voca-
tional career becoming my vocation. It was as though each moment of
life I had experienced, drew me closer and led me as a student.
328
C. Lawrence
Jonassen et al., (1999) tell how this learning is about ‘interpreting,

reasoning, and reflecting’ (p. 2). Donald A. Schön (1991) further tells
about the reflection process places value on the journey and explora-
tion with reflection-in-action. This learning, that I experienced, shifts
and adapts to the circumstances moving through stages (moments)
to find solutions and commitment to practice with what comes and
arises from reflection-in-action. The need for interpreting to find solu-
tions and commitment added information to my reflection to make an
informed decision to enter the phase of higher learning that bought fur-
ther meaning and purpose. This bought about the change, that ‘meta-
noia’ which Senge (1990), talks about. ‘Metanoia’ being an Ancient
Greek word (μετάνοια) meaning “changing one’s mind” (pp. 13–14).
At points along my journey, I made the choice to undertake further
study yet, those moments of indecision, there was the need to make my
mind up in deciding. In making this decision there was another circum-
stance that contributed to the decision. When playing tennis with my
son I suffered a sports injury resulting in a full fracture and dislocation
of my left ankle left which left me incapacitated with the recovery to
take 12–18 months. I could not work. It was in this period I was to
begin my DEDU. Loss of work and loss of mobility, the opportunity
was telling me to make the most to further learn and pursue post-grad-
uate studies.
When further reflecting upon this definition of learning, it tells me
that learning is about ‘challenging prejudices and habitual assump-
tions’ (Popper, 1979, p. 148). In amongst the many directions I could
go during the first year of the DEDU, I was faced with the need for
finances, health needs and the challenges with the lack of mobility. I
needed work. In one interview after another, an interviewer challenged
me to put together some details as to why I was pursuing post-graduate
studies and why the construction industry needed research. This some-
what challenged my assumptions as to why I was preparing to become a
researcher. This gave me further opportunity to reflect and pull together
the literature I had been reading, making sense of what research really
meant to me. The following was the email I sent back telling the inter-
viewee what research meant to me and why the industry needs it:
329
To Mr XXX YYY
Chief Executive Officer
ABC,
Thank you for the opportunity of the interview Monday.
I appreciate that I was able to introduce myself and talk about my qual-
ifications and experience with training, assessment, course writing and
research skills I have to fill the role at ABC. It was also great to talk about
past contacts and industry networks.
You ask me to put together some bullet points as to why we need
Research. ‘Research’ is basically, ‘re’, ‘search’ meaning to look again and
I have formed these as questions promoting the need for greater ‘look-
ing again’ in the context of construction education. You may had had
thought of research in another context or in another line of thought and
if this was the case could you please let me know and I can rework these
bullet points for you?
Here are the questions promoting the need for research gaining clarity for
professional development in the setting of construction education:
• Is training and education relevant, practical, appropriate and

current?
• Can there be a solution to the deprofessionalisation of workers and
educators in the construction industry?
• What are the perceptions of workers and construction educators
toward their professional development choices in learning?
• Has professional development research specifically been carried out
as mandated by Reports, White Papers and Charters from industry,
departments and associations?
• Are the current methods of research requiring greater scrutiny and
examination and what other research methods may aid in the future
towards research in construction education? and
• Has professional development research been done before and who
can do it?
Each of these bullet points, by right, could be an individual research pro-

ject. The reasons for why we need to undertake research in construction
education are:
330
C. Lawrence
• To look again and learn;

• To answer the hard questions that no one was willing to ask;
• To analyse, evaluate and improve;
• To move forward and not to make the same mistakes we have done
in the past;
• To evolve our practices offering greater productivity, safety and
environmental care;
• To partner and collaborate helping others;
• To professionally develop.
XXX YYY, again thank you for the appointment Monday and I hope
these bullet points may assist with our meeting on Thursday. Please call
me on ??????????? if you have further questions or discussion over the
points above, or, wanting to reframe and making them more relevant to
your thinking and context you will find yourself in.
I look forward to you contacting me over the position offered.
Regards,
Clayton Lawrence
This email, a critical moment, made me examine and question the

status-quo. I challenged not only my reader, but it also challenged my
assumptions and it reinforced that research itself is about ‘learning’ and
it reinforced why I was on this journey as a researcher with the DEDU.
The email was a reflection of me processing the units I was undertak-
ing defining and redefining what this research ‘is’ and ‘was becoming’
for me. Even as I write this chapter for you, you too may look again, to
‘re-search’. I broke the email into what I believed at the time, into bullet
points, that I thought were easily digestible and presentable about the
need for research. This email was a statement as to why I wanted to be a
researcher. It was in this experience with the interviewer, that I was chal-
lenging prejudices and habitual assumptions about learning. I had felt
like that this was my moment in time where my ‘voice’ was breaking like
a young boy becoming a man, where study to researcher meant to me.
As a side story, I never did get a response from the prospec-
tive employer. I tried calling to follow-up yet, still there was not a
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reply—this was disappointing. I just refocused and continued with the

pursuit of further work to sustain my studies and financial commit-
ments to live. After countless revisions of my resume and interviews, I
found work. Presently, I work a 4/5ths week where I can study one day
a week to become a researcher in doing the DEDU. This study for me is
a 24/7 process.
Senge (1990), talks about the ‘willing participant, engaging and con-
necting with self, others and to the world’ (pp. 13–14). My email was
evidence. Further willingness to study and to find confidence in oneself
came from also connecting with other like-minded people, willing to
be a learner learning to learn with others. This found me connecting
with the Postgraduate and Early Career Research (PGECR) group at the
university I attend. This group enabled me to connect with not only to
the world of research but, also with other researchers who faced similar
challenges and celebrations I had experienced. The support and encour-
agement of others adding to the learning experience show what Senge
talks about with the need to connect. I had this opportunity of feel-
ing connected and it gave this energy for ongoing learning. It was this
sharing of ideas and concepts, then hearing from others that helped me
forming a synthesis of thoughts, adding value and energy to the research
I was pursuing. In turn, the learning to learn became more focused
when surrounded by others who are learning. Wenger, McDermott and
Snyder (2002) reinforce this need to connect by defining this concept
of, ‘community of practice’ as an important aspect of our social and cor-
porate needs.
Communities of practice are groups of people who share a concern, a set

of problems, or a passion about a topic, and who deepen their knowledge
and expertise in this area by interacting on an ongoing basis. (Wenger
et al., 2002, p. 4)
Learning for me was no longer learning in isolation. It became

about connecting, listening to other stories, interacting and integrat-
ing thoughts and learning with the mind. This PGECR allowed me
to share my thoughts and progress of thinking before others. There
were fears at first of becoming vulnerable, being judged and rejected
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C. Lawrence
yet, amongst the people there was welcomeness, acceptance and

interest. In walking through this part of the journey as a first-year
student required more of me as a person, to accept the opinions of
others and the respect for the experiences of others. It was within
this group of people there was the obvious transformation of others
within the group moving through similar journeys, as I was, becoming
researchers.
Brown and Duguid (2000) tell that learning is more than ‘informa-
tion and knowledge, its transformative’ (p. 128). This is like that of
Merriam and Caffarella (1991) perspective in understanding learning
where it can be accepted universally, where learning is this embodi-
ment and the engagement a person throughout their life for the pur-
suit of continual improvement and happiness. This growing for me
was through the ongoing acquisition of knowledge and skills yet,
transformation of self with my vocational development and relation-
ships with others was occurring. I ‘was’ and ‘continue’ to transform
in undertaking the DEDU, looking back and rereading this chapter
written, I can say without any doubt, ‘I have changed and continue to
change’.
Transformation is a funny thing for me, even with the name
‘Clayton’. At the beginning of this chapter, I introduced myself and
now can tell how even my name also sets the tone of this chapter.
The reason being is that historically, mum and dad liked the name
and thought nothing more of it. To me, this means so much more
in discovering and exploring transformative lifelong learning. In the
search and hunt to find what ‘Clayton’ meant, I came across the bib-
lical meaning describing it as, “feet of clay, heart of fire”, taken from
the scripture reference of, ‘But you are our father, LORD. We are like
clay, and you are like the potter. You created us (Isaiah 64:8, Good
News Bible)’.
The metaphor of the clay provides the imagery of the Father, making
life and creating. The “clay”, to me is about being on the potter’s wheel
created in His hands where the heat then applied in the kiln makes the
object set. In Jeremiah, there is this picture of the potter working with
the clay and should the result be the shape He doesn’t want, He breaks
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it, remaking it into another that is more desirable. ‘So, I went there and
saw the potter working at his wheel. Whenever a piece of pottery turned
out imperfect, he would take the clay and make it into something else’
(Jeremiah 18:3-4, Good News Bible). Clay can be repeatedly remade,
reformed and reshaped. To do so, it is broken and moistened, then by
the pressure and heat generated with the hands, as the feet rotate the
wheel it is thrown upon, takes shape. Throughout my lifelong learn-
ing and development, I can relate many aspects of my story to these
stages the clay goes through in the potter’s hands. I have felt my life
go through these stages of being made, broken and reshaped repeatedly.
My name alone speaks to me about the nature of my story that I have
told.
My name describes and gives me purpose, motivation and a sense
of destiny quelling my fears and anxieties. It’s when feeling the pres-
sure, worry and depression, there is a sense of peace, strength and joy
of being remade. Further, there is this feeling and an understanding
that through my life there is a transformation when discussing lifelong
learning.
Serendipitously Paul, in Romans, tells how ‘he who makes the pot
has the right to use the clay as he wishes, and to make two pots from
the same lump of clay, one for special occasions and the other for ordi-
nary use’ (Romans 9:21, Good News Bible). This could be likened to
the person having dual identities and roles. Though, the personal and
professional life comes from that same piece of clay. Discussing this per-
sonal and professional development of my life especially that of the first
year as a student perspective, at times, I have felt like these pots at var-
ious periods having worked with and against one another in my trans-
formation as a researcher. The point is, they are so intertwined, forming
me. Personal and professional development happening at once, yet these
cannot happen without the other and neither can these happen in a vac-
uum. Al Gini (2000) describes how work fulfils a dual function in the
development of the human psyche and character. It is both a response
to the necessities of existence and the means by which we come to know
who we are and how and where we belong. Learning happens, whether
good or bad, in amongst the pressures of a working life and personal
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C. Lawrence
challenges. The drawing upon the ‘clay’ metaphor in several ways relates
ever so much for the transformative life.
This ‘clay’ with Clayton, you have read about, is the forging of many
pots from the same piece of clay. They have been both splendid and
some not so. I have felt broken and having the joy and anticipation
when being reshaped. In sharing about these ‘pots’ I have explored this
life as a first-year student with the learning that comes with it.
Interestingly, the good and bad, whether proactive or reactive, in
learning we grow (Senge, 1990, pp. 13–14). Whatever is happening, in
all circumstances, learning is taking place, it is inevitable. In writing this
narrative, I trust you may share with me the same enthusiasm and joy
for learning. The researcher I am becoming, I have shared about, the
good and the not so good of my experiences throughout this chapter.
No doubt, as it is for me, it is like that for you, facing challenges and
issues of life yet, having a learning attitude and heart towards what is
being faced is needed. The world sometimes just feels all so consuming.
It’s like a load on one’s shoulders, and even when I meet others and hav-
ing experienced it myself. Learning is inevitable and in this learning we
do grow.
What Can Be Taken from This Chapter?

Coming full circle, throughout the chapter, the significant aspect, I have
seen, is that the researcher undergoes this concept of transformation,
this metánoia of ‘being’ and ‘becoming’. Rather than focusing on the
contemporary genesis of the word ‘metánoia’ where it is used as a pro-
found sense for a religious conversion, repentance. The noun, I use here,
is the traditional historical origin of the where it is used as this, ‘chang-
ing of one’s own mind’.
In each significant critical moment, I described throughout this chap-
ter, each moment where I was either challenged or had gone through
a life-changing event led me to changing my mind. Leading into the
moment I had a preconceived assumption based upon experience, edu-
cation, context, age and social interaction. Then upon the event, these
assumptions were changed, tweaked and remoulded. In each moment
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through those critical incidents, like the clay, it is broken, reshaped and
then smoothed again, taking further shape. ‘Being’ and ‘becoming’ a
researcher, is where one’s own identity is under pressure. It is beautiful,
yet is broken, remade and then through this process, again.
Interestingly, ‘metánoia’ from ‘metánoein’ is broken into ‘meta’ and
‘noein’ like the clay metaphor spoken before, were from the same clay
two bowls are made, ‘meta’, when seen through the eyes of chemistry, its
meaning comes of the adjective’s use when pertaining to or occupying
two positions. Then considering ‘noein’, is the concept, the position, to
have a mental perception from the essence of ‘noos’, that is, the mind
and thought (metanoia, n.d.). As that learner, I was open for change at
a sub-particle level within the mind and be prepared to come to another
position of thought, then another, then another when researching at the
doctoral level. It’s about, for me, being courageous ‘in’, ‘with’ and ‘for’ a
change. It is that transformational learner during the first year as a doc-
toral student.
Conclusion: Summing Up
Writing a closing statement to sum up, leading with the words, “To
conclude …” does not mean that the life of a student finishes there. The
life and journey of a DEDU student have many stories to draw upon
from a vast array of experience, circumstances, relationships and desire.
Drawing upon what ‘learning’ means to me in this eclectic definition
draws upon the many facets of preparing and undertaking postgraduate
learning.
For me as a postgraduate student undertaking the DEDU,
Learning to me becomes about the interpreting, reasoning and reflect-

ing about life, bringing in change where choice and action take place.
Learning is about challenging prejudices and habitual assumptions,
working from the known to the unknown, being a willing participant,
engaging and connecting with self, others and the world. It’s not just
information; it’s transformative. The good and bad, whether proactive or
reactive, through learning, I have learnt to grow!
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C. Lawrence
This chapter may provide a framework through which I have shared

about and how I have ‘developed’ and am ‘developing’ identity through
the transformative progress of lifelong learning in undertaking the
DEDU. The chapter provides a definition ‘wrapped up’ with literature
and learning experiences. My story is related throughout the chapter
showing how ‘traversing the doctorate’ can be complex, especially in
finding identity and connecting with the coursework and its network
as a student. There are so many contributing factors to consider when
remaining on track to undertake and complete the study and research.
Rather than identifying stages, this chapter is about finding meaning
through this transformative state that I as a student find myself in and
experience in the learning process.
The learning process takes a deliberate, systematic, thoughtful think-
ing over one’s past critical moments and incidents. Within the frame-
work of defining what ‘learning’ is to me, the story and narrative detail
certain events, attitudes and drivers to commence the DEDU and to
see through the core courses to completion. Through the challenges and
celebrations that I have shared, I trust that you, the reader, may find
encouragement and drive, discovering that you are not alone when con-
sidering and undertaking the DEDU.
“As long as you live, keep learning how to live” (Seneca, a Latin
philosopher).
Acknowledgements I would like to thank those who have helped me to

make this contribution to the chapter of this book of Traversing the Doctorate:
Associate Professor Anne Jasman, Professor Peter McIlveen, Dr. Sara Hammer
of the University of Southern Queensland providing the supervision and
critical feedback during this undertaking of the doctoral studies; Mr. Richard
Wall and Mrs. Pam McAllister, close friends and personal mentors who have
helped me with the reflection and narrative shared; and yep, thanks, Mum
and Dad. In appreciation to you all in reading this chapter, serendipity to
you all.
337
References
Brown, J. S., & Duguid, P. (2000). The social life of information. Boston:
Harvard Business School Press.
Gini, A. (2000). My job, my self: Work and the creation of the modern individual.
New York: Routledge.
Jonassen, D. H., Peck, K. L., & Wilson, B. G. (1999). Learning with technol-
ogy: A constructivist perspective. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Kolb, D. (1984). Experiential learning. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Merriam, S., & Caffarella, R. (1991). Learning in adulthood. San Fransisco:
Jossey-Bass.
Metanoia. (n.d.). Online etymology dictionary. Retrieved 26 July 2015, from
Dictionary.com. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/metanoia.
Patton, W., & McMahon, M. (2006). Career development and systems theory:
Connecting theory and practice. Rotterdam: Sense Publishers.
Popper, K. R. (1979). Objective knowledge: An evolutionary approach. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Senge, P. (1990). The fifth discipline: The art and practice of the learning organi-
sation. New York: Doubleday.
Schön, D. A. (1991). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in
action. New York, NY: Basic Books (Original work published in 1983).
Wenger, E., McDermott, R., & Snyder, W. M. (2002). Cultivating communities
of practice: A guide to managing knowledge. Boston, MA: Harvard Business
School Press.
19
Staying on Track: A Targeted Approach
to Managing the Ph.D. Journey
Joanne Doyle
Introduction
Achieving a doctorate is a time-consuming and resource-intensive
process. The average time to complete a Ph.D. in Australia is four years,
extending to five years in Europe and seven and a half years in the
United States (Bendemra, 2013). Students generally take longer than
is desired to complete a Ph.D., with funding and publishing activities
influencing the time taken (Horta, Cattaneo, & Meoli, 2019), and fac-
tors such as enrolment pattern, student cohort composition and schol-
arship participation influencing completion rates (Spronken-Smith,
Cameron, & Quigg, 2018).
In Australia, the cost of achieving a Ph.D. is estimated to be up to
AUD$30,000 (Bexley, 2014). Although the student may not directly
assume any cost, there are costs of supervision, administration,
J. Doyle (*)
e-mail: Joanne.Doyle@usq.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_19
340
J. Doyle
infrastructure, travel, transcription, software, communication and myr-

iad other expenses. When students extend completion dates, or fail to
complete, there is a human cost to students, supervisors and institutions
(Jiranek, 2010). There is also an opportunity cost associated with the
loss of income for the period that it takes the student to undertake the
Ph.D. It makes good sense for doctoral students to be efficient and effec-
tive in the way that they approach and manage their research program.
The lived experience of a Ph.D. varies across students. The doc-
toral student navigates and traverses (Goward, Holley, & McCulloch,
2015) an intellectual path to discover the “new and unexpected”
(Bexley, 2014). Terms such as “doctoral odyssey” or “journey to
scholarship” (Amran & Ibrahim, 2012, p. 528) reflect a pathway or
journey approach to achieving a Ph.D. (Stanley, 2014). The research
quest can be vague at times, and it is easy to get lost in a sea of words
and data. Students following a classical model of Ph.D. research are
provided with little formal research training (Dunleavy, 2003), with
supervisors using an apprenticeship approach to mentoring students
(Spronken-Smith, 2018). For many students, the journey is an “awk-
ward, inward-looking, anxious” experience that resolves itself towards
the end (Stanley, 2014).
Although the objective is to make a contribution to knowledge, and
achieve a testamur, Creedy (2007) notes that the Ph.D. journey may be
as significant as the destination. Doctoral candidates manage variables
of time, cost and quality in developing a final product for submission.
The journey may be less about navigating, and more about planning,
scheduling and controlling, which are key project management activi-
ties (Kerzner, 2013). Regardless of whether the student prepares one
thesis or multiple publications, the student manages a range of inputs,
including hours, words, supervisors, data and energy, to deliver a range
of outputs. The quest is to collect and analyse research results arising
from a specific number of interviews, focus groups or surveys, produce
five or more chapters (or publications) containing a desired number of
words, and disseminate findings with consideration given to publica-
tion metrics of impact factors, citation rates and H-indices. As with any
unplanned journey, disaster looms if the doctoral traveller fails to make
adequate provisions.
19 Staying on Track: A Targeted Approach to Managing …
341
A Rational Approach
Students require more than enthusiasm and courage when embark-
ing on the doctoral journey. Doctoral research is complex; not only
from a research perspective but from a project management perspective.
The research program reflects the criteria of a project being ‘a tempo-
rary endeavour undertaken to create a unique product, service or result’
(Project Management Institute, 2008). Initiating, directing and controlling
the various elements of a Ph.D. is akin to managing a major project.
The aim of the Ph.D. is to produce an assessable research output demon-
strating a ‘significant and original contribution to knowledge’ (Australian
Qualifications Framework Council, 2013). Doctoral students undertake
‘a program of independent supervised study’ (Australian Qualifications
Framework Council, 2013) intended to address gaps in the saturated
research within specific boundaries and limits (Brabazon, 2010).
The life cycle of any project typically involves four stages of defining,
planning, executing and closing (Larson & Gray, 2014). The defining
and planning stages of a Ph.D. research project are largely completed by
the time candidature is confirmed. However, it is after this stage, when
the student moves into executing the Ph.D. project, that it is easy to
become overwhelmed by the multitude of activities to be managed.
When I commenced my Ph.D. journey, I was confident I had a good
blend of skills and knowledge that would enable me to complete the
Ph.D. in minimum time. I had extensive research experience, strong aca-
demic networks and a high level of enthusiasm for the research topic. In
addition, I was an experienced project manager. I understood key project
management concepts, and I had delivered many challenging projects on
time and within budget. At an early stage, I decided to project-manage
my doctoral journey, and I shared my approach with other colleagues
and students. I was surprised by the negative comments I received from
well-meaning colleagues, and the lack of support for my project manage-
ment approach: ‘you can’t manage a Ph.D. like a project’, ‘research takes
time; it cannot be scheduled’ and ‘a PhD is a program of research; it’s not
a project so it can’t be managed like a project’. Despite literature suggest-
ing that it is possible to design, plan and manage research projects (Bell
& Waters, 2014; Polonsky & Waller, 2018; Walliman, 2011), there were
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J. Doyle
many people unconvinced that doctoral research could be approached

from a project management perspective.
With limited documentation about how to do doctoral research, I
made a personal commitment to apply project management knowledge
and skills throughout my Ph.D. journey. Although I had some reser-
vations about my approach due to the comments I had received from
colleagues and fellow students, I was encouraged by literature evidenc-
ing increased project success when project management practices are
employed (Papke-Shields, Beise, & Quan, 2010). I focused my activities
on key numeric targets, and implemented strategies that would help me
to channel my research energy efficiently and effectively.
Tips for Travellers on the Doctoral Journey

Numbers feature throughout the doctoral journey yet their importance
is often overlooked until the final year. I was surprised by the number
of Ph.D. students who were oblivious to key numeric targets and had
failed to set goals and monitor progress. Setting goals that are SMART
(specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, time-bound) is a good way to
encourage and monitor activities (Cothran & Wysocki, 2010).
Listed below are some strategies that may help Ph.D. candidates
adopt a project management approach, and achieve timely and cost-
effective completion of doctoral research. The strategies focus on exe-
cuting doctoral research using a target-driven approach across the
interrelated elements of product, people and process.
Product—Planning and Achieving

the Right Deliverables
The product at the end of a Ph.D. is ‘a thesis, dissertation, exegesis or
equivalent’ (Australian Qualifications Framework Council, 2013), which
may comprise a series of publications as evidenced by newer models of
doctoral research (Mason, 2018), that demonstrates research making a
significant and original contribution to knowledge. I had decided, at an
343
early stage of my candidature, that I would prepare and submit a tradi-

tional thesis. The number of words specified for a thesis varies greatly
according to institution and discipline. Some institutions require a min-
imum thesis length of 50,000 words, while others set upper limits of
100,000 words (Perry, 2013). Typically, the maximum length of a thesis
is somewhere between 80,000 and 100,000 words (Park, 2005).
I knew that setting an early target word count would help me to
appreciate the significance of the task ahead and keep me motivated on
the journey. Some academics recommend aiming for 80% of the final
planned words to accommodate the potential for over-writing which is
prevalent among doctoral students (Dunleavy, 2003). For this reason, I
set an early target of 65,000 words. Guided by Perry (2013), I divided the
targeted words across five key chapters: introduction 6% (4000 words),
literature review 34% (22,000 words), methodology 18% (12,000
words), data analysis 22% (14,000 words) and conclusions 20% (13,000
words). Although many theses have more than five chapters, a five-chap-
ter outline was a good starting point. After dividing my proposed thesis
into chapters, I set up each chapter as a Word document. The header of
each document contained vital statistics to track drafting progress: ‘tar-
get word count’ and ‘actual word count’. I used a field code in Microsoft
Word so that ‘actual word count’ was automatically updated each time I
saved the document. Whenever I drafted text within each chapter docu-
ment, I was reminded of my ‘target word count’ and encouraged by my
‘actual word count’. Motivation is an important factor in completing a
Ph.D. (Hill, 2014). The word tallies proved useful for encouraging my
efforts and helping me to monitor my progress.
The phenomenon of scope-creep is a concern for project managers
and needs to be carefully managed. Scope-creep is the result of cumu-
lative changes to the original scope of a project (Giezen, 2012) that
may contribute to a project being delayed or failing. Ph.D. students are
wise to remain vigilant for scope-creep. A cumbersome research topic is
overwhelming and difficult to manage. The potential for scope-creep is
most evident during the literature review process when students interro-
gate a range of literature that ‘may prove useful’. There is potential for
students to include literature within the thesis that have not been ade-
quately refined, thereby broadening the focus of the research. I set an
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J. Doyle
early target for the literature that I intended to read and reference that
encouraged me to search widely. My initial target was 1000 items, and
although the target was passed halfway through my Ph.D. journey, it
provided perspective on my progress in terms of the vast quantity of lit-
erature I had accessed. At the low-points of my Ph.D. journey, I sought
comfort in the tally of literature I had identified, read and synthesised.
Although the scope of the research needs to be clearly understood,
maintaining a rigid scope may not always be appropriate (Dalcher,
2015), and changes to scope should be considered if the changes will
result in improved project outcomes (Larson & Gray, 2014). A well-
articulated research question and careful research design will help to
ensure the research remains on track.
In addition to the research activity, there are multiple administrative
tasks associated with undertaking a Ph.D.. Students may benefit by uti-
lising project management techniques when scheduling and producing
the numerous deliverables related to confirmation (documents, budgets
and presentation slides), ethics (application form, consent forms, par-
ticipant information sheets), reporting (institutional progress reports,
scholarship reports) and dissemination (journal articles, conference
presentations). Confirmation documents establish the scope of the
research and provide details about scheduling and resources required.
Reporting documents enable the student to relay progress and highlight
any discrepancies in terms of progress and timeframes. Publications are
useful for disseminating research findings, and doctoral students are
encouraged to publish articles during candidature, and attend confer-
ences to develop skills in presenting. Scheduling these activities and
deliverables, and preparing the right documents at the right time, is an
important part of project managing doctoral research.
People—Assembling and Managing

the Right Team
All projects rely upon having the right team assembled for the task at
hand. Doctoral students rely upon formal and informal support from
supervisors, fellow students, research administration officers, and family
345
or friends. Establishing and maintaining a good working relationship

with supervisors is essential to support a student’s progress. Research
supervisors provide critical support and guidance. Inadequate super-
vision is noted as a major reason why some students do not achieve
Ph.D.s (Phillips & Pugh, 2010). Failure to achieve a Ph.D. has greater
ramifications for students than it does for supervisors, so students are
often left with the responsibility for managing the student–supervisor
relationship (Phillips & Pugh, 2010). Setting targets for meetings with
supervisors is a good place to start. Early rules about meeting attend-
ance and frequency will help to establish good Ph.D. practices, and
encourage accountability on the part of supervisors as well as students.
Expectations are important, and should be made clear by both parties at
the start of the journey.
Successful researchers need a range of soft skills including the ability
to be ‘flexible, responsive and adaptive’ (Sinclair, Cuthbert, & Barnacle,
2014). Effective project managers must be able to build good rela-
tionships with different groups of people (Larson & Gray, 2014). The
doctoral student has a dual role as researcher and project manager that
requires good interpersonal skills. Additional skills in communication
and collaboration become necessary when producing research articles
for publication. Although developing academic networks and work-
ing collaboratively with colleagues can seem overwhelming amidst the
everyday Ph.D. activities of data collection and analysis, collaboration
is a ‘modern mantra’ (Macfarlane, 2017). The benefits of collaborative
research are well documented (Cheruvelil et al., 2014; Garner, Porter,
Borrego, Tran, & Teutonico, 2013; Winckler & Fieder, 2012), and
many funding agencies are promoting collaborative research within
funding guidelines. Doctoral students need to cultivate collaborative
research skills during the Ph.D. experience so that the skills can be
developed and utilised post-Ph.D. completion. Setting a target to make
contact with one new colleague each month will mean that the student
has at least 30 contacts by the end of the Ph.D. journey.
In addition to cultivating relationships, the Ph.D. student needs
to develop good technical skills. The ability to use software applica-
tions (such as Microsoft Word, EndNote, NVivo, etc.) will simplify
tasks relating to searching and referencing literature, analysing data,
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J. Doyle
producing documents and disseminating research results. Identifying

knowledge gaps in the student can be just as important as identifying
knowledge gaps in the literature. It is important to understand which
software applications will support the Ph.D. journey, and seek training
at an early stage in the journey.
Process: Setting and Monitoring

the Right Targets
Students undertaking doctoral research have limitations in terms of time
and budget. The Ph.D. student engages in a form of effort-driven sched-
uling, where work and duration impact each other. Although time exten-
sions are possible, it makes sense to complete the research as efficiently as
possible. Monitoring research expenses is another key project management
activity. Ensuring funds are allocated and expended in a timely manner
is the sole responsibility of the doctoral candidate. The cost to transcribe
interview audio files or field notes is significant, and it is demoralising
to realise that there may be inadequate funds for such activities. Other
potential research costs include training, data collection and analysis, con-
ference attendance, dissemination activities and printing the thesis.
Doctoral students manage a multitude of activities during the research
program. Good time management is crucial, and students should remain
realistic when setting work goals. Arising at 5 a.m. and working until
10 p.m. may seem a logical approach to achieving 17 hours of writing
time, but this rarely happens. The Ph.D. journey should be an enjoya-
ble experience that is undertaken congruently with life’s other priorities
of family, friends, work, exercise and recreation. It may only be possible
to dedicate 6 hours per day to your Ph.D., so accept this situation and
plan an intense level of activity for a lesser period of time. Undertaking a
good 6 hours of activity per day throughout a Ph.D. is far more effective
than trying to schedule an almost-impossible 17 hours per day towards
the end of the journey. Boice (2000) suggests that a mindful approach of
‘constancy and moderation’ will improve scholarly productivity. A num-
ber of academics support this approach, with students encouraged to
write for fifteen minutes per day (Bolker, 1998).
347
I was determined to complete my Ph.D. research without having to

extend the duration of my candidature. I was concerned that the days,
weeks and years may slip by too quickly if I didn’t set daily work targets.
I needed to be reminded of the swift passage of time in order to remain
motivated and continue my targeted Ph.D. approach. For this reason,
I documented my Ph.D. journey in a research diary. I bought a large
notebook prior to commencing my Ph.D. and was diligent in complet-
ing diary entries on a weekly basis. Each page contained a heading in
the format of ‘Week 1 – Monday 15 July’. It’s quite sobering to read
‘Week 76 – Monday 22 December’ and realise you haven’t yet started
your data collection phase.
I used the research diary to capture information about deliverables
(thesis guidelines), key milestones (enrolment, confirmation, progress
reports) and expenditure (data collection, transcription and conference
attendance expenses). The diary also included ideas for publication
titles, potential conferences, collaborative partners, funding schemes
and avenues for future research. The diary performed a second function
as a historical record of my thought process. I included mind maps and
sketches of ideas, concepts and frameworks that would prove valuable
should my efforts to make an original contribution to knowledge be
challenged at any time.
Maintaining perspective seemed to be crucial to managing the peaks
and troughs of the Ph.D. journey. I was aware that many students are
plagued by the ‘pit of despair’ (Anon, 2014) and ‘imposter syndrome’
(Strzepek, 2012), and I wanted my doctoral journey to be remembered
as a pleasant experience with limited negative moments. For this rea-
son, in addition to recording details of my progress in terms of activi-
ties, deliverables and milestones, I also noted my satisfaction level using
a rating scale of −5 to +5 (refer Fig. 19.1).
The activity of rating each week helped me to understand the highs
and lows of the journey, and brought perspective to the process. I was
able to identify events that had caused a low level of satisfaction, and
this helped me to prepare for potential low-points in the future. For
example, I hit a ‘pit of despair’ in the first year of my journey when
I was trying to define my research scope. I hit a similar low-point
towards the end of my journey when I was re-drafting sections in the
348
J. Doyle
Fig. 19.1 Two-year graph of my doctoral journey showing weekly satisfaction

rating
thesis. Although most of my journey was a positive experience, there

was value in understanding when and why I had hit the low-points.
It was also empowering to look back at the number of weeks where
I hadn’t felt quite so discouraged, and to see tangible evidence of my
progress.
Discussion
The Ph.D. journey is regarded as one of the greatest challenges in aca-
demic life (Percy, 2014). It is common for doctoral students to feel
‘lonely and scared, in an intellectual sense’ (Crawford, 2003) as they
grapple with perfectionism, procrastination and isolation (Percy, 2014).
Many students are overwhelmed by the research objective, not to men-
tion the Odyssean research journey that must be navigated.
Applying project management techniques may help students to
adopt a more strategic approach to doctoral research. Understanding
how time, cost and quality feature in the doctoral journey may assist
students to operate more effectively. Time is a constant concern and
349
requires skills of estimation, sequencing, monitoring and delivery. Cost

is a key consideration when planning and undertaking research activities
on a limited budget. The quality requirements for the assessable item of
research must be understood and addressed. Scope is determined at an
early stage of the Ph.D. journey when the student defines the research
question and research design.
No matter how the Ph.D. journey transpires, a structured and tar-
geted approach may help reduce the complexity and uncertainty of
doctoral research. Students will benefit from understanding the inter-
related triple constraints of time, cost and scope in delivering a qual-
ity product. For example, a focus on timely submission may adversely
impact research quality (Park, 2005), changes to cost may impact
research scope, and the phenomenon of scope-creep may impact time.
A project management approach may help students to focus activities
on the triple constraints, and adopt a structured approach to the Ph.D.
journey. There is also a need for doctoral students to develop skills in
communication and collaboration to facilitate the student–supervisor
relationship, improve liaison activities with colleagues, and improve
interactions with institutional administration, research and ethics
personnel.
At the end of the research program, the doctoral student must pro-
duce an assessable item to demonstrate a significant and original contri-
bution to knowledge. Yet, as with all projects, it is possible for a project
to be managed successfully, and not be successful in terms of achiev-
ing the project’s objectives (Müller, Rolstadås, Tommelein, Morten
Schiefloe, & Ballard, 2014). There are many reasons that projects fail
including poor planning, scope creep, inadequate resources, poorly
defined project objectives, unclear scope, inability to anticipate prob-
lems, over-optimism about time (Young, 2013). Brabazon (2010) pro-
vides ten tips for failing a Ph.D., and includes such things as a poorly
prepared manuscript, inadequate introduction and/or conclusion, and
not being explicit about the original contribution to knowledge made
by the research. In addition to these quality considerations, inade-
quate funds to undertake the research, and failure to submit within
the required time period, may have a detrimental effect on the doctoral
research program.
350
J. Doyle
Conclusion
The decision to undertake doctoral research requires a commitment
that spans years. Students embark on a journey of rigorous research
activities, intent on delivering a quality product when the final des-
tination is reached. Doctoral research is a programme of research, yet
it is also a research project with a defined objective, finite timeframes
and an element of uniqueness. The focus of research is as much on
the process (competence) as on the product (content) (Park, 2005).
Throughout the doctoral journey, students manage a myriad of activ-
ities in order to achieve the desired outcome. The element of risk,
inherent in projects, exists within the process of theory development.
It is difficult to conceptualise, let alone plan, schedule and deliver,
how the research will make a significant and original contribution to
knowledge.
The personal reflections in this chapter suggest a methodology for
achieving a doctoral qualification using a project management perspec-
tive. A project management approach may support doctoral students
with planning, undertaking and monitoring the activities necessary to
complete the research and submit a quality product. Understanding
how to apply targets within a project management framework may be
an effective first step for motivating and empowering students on the
doctoral journey.
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20
Strategies for Ph.D. Completion:
A Critical Reflection by Completed
Ph.D. Candidates
Jessica Z. Marrington and Evita March
Introduction
In mid-2018, there were almost 53,000 students enrolled in doctoral
research programmes in Australia (Department of Education and Training
[DET], 2018a). Estimates for completion and attrition vary substan-
tially, from 10–20% to 85% (Bourke, Holbrook, Lovat, & Farley, 2004).
Bourke and colleagues (2004) reported that, at six years of candidature,
70% of doctoral students will have completed, and 30% will have with-
drawn. More recent statistics showed that, from 2010–2017, there were
330,223 full-time and 173,272 part-time doctoral research enrolments
in Australia; during this same period, there were 49,554 full-time and
26,438 part-time completions (uCube, 2018). Such estimates indicate
J. Z. Marrington (*)
University of Southern Queensland, Ipswich, QLD, Australia
e-mail: Jessica.Marrington@usq.edu.au
E. March
Federation University Australia, Berwick, VIC, Australia
e-mail: e.march@federation.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_20
356
J. Z. Marrington and E. March
a large number of candidates either who will complete their degree out-
side the allocated time period (a funded period of three–four years; DET,
2018b), or who will not complete their degree.
Completing a Ph.D. on time is a complex process (Pitchforth et al.,
2012). Although it is difficult to isolate one factor in why a student ter-
minates candidature (or takes longer than anticipated), research has
highlighted three common factors: (1) environment and/or institu-
tional factors (Lovitts & Nelson, 2000); (2) supervision quality (Bair
& Haworth, 2004); and (3) individual characteristics of the candidate
(van de Schoot, Yerkes, Mouw, & Sonneveld, 2013). Additionally, sev-
eral factors have been identified as potentially preceding delay in com-
pletion, including frequent changes to the topic, isolating behaviours by
the candidate, and avoiding communication and submission of work for
review to the supervisor (Manathunga, 2005). Despite what the under-
lying factors may be in relation to prolonged candidature or termination
of candidature, both outcomes are undesirable and have implications at
personal and institutional levels (van de Schoot et al., 2013).
Doctoral attrition comes with significant social, institutional and per-
sonal costs (Cantwell, Scevak, Bourke, & Holbrook, 2012). Doctoral
candidates who terminate their degrees are likely to experience individual
stress (van de Schoot et al., 2013) associated with the inability to com-
plete their programmes, impacting on future career aspirations (Jiranek,
2010). In addition to students being negatively affected by prolonged
candidature or non-completion of their doctoral degrees, both these
outcomes also have an impact on their higher education providers and
staff members involved in the candidature process (e.g., supervisors).
Throughout the duration of candidature, significant amounts of time and
other resources are invested in the candidate (van de Schoot et al., 2013).
For example, the university invests financially in the student (e.g., schol-
arship, space allocation), and the supervisor invests significant time in the
candidate. Furthermore, the termination of Ph.D. candidature impacts
on the university from a competitive point of view, as research students
produce valuable scientific outputs that contribute to the ranking and
funding of the university (Jiranek, 2010; van de Schoot et al., 2013).
Owing to such negative effects for both the student and the university
that are related to prolonged candidature or non-completion of doctoral
20 Strategies for Ph.D. Completion: A Critical Reflection …
357
degrees, both evidence and reflective-based strategies to assist with

timely completion are required (Woolderink, Putnik, van der Boom, &
Klabbers, 2015). The current chapter posits several strategies that may
assist doctoral candidates to complete their degree successfully within a
reasonable period of time. The method utilised to extract these strategies
was reflective practice, which is outlined in greater detail in the sections
below.
The Reflective Practice Method

The method of critical reflection utilised in this chapter aligns with
Bolton’s (2014) discussion of reflective practice. As described by Bolton
(2014), reflective practice is a combination of reflection (i.e., focused
thinking) and reflexivity (i.e., self-critical reflection). More specifically,
Bolton defines reflection as ‘an in-depth consideration of events or sit-
uations: The people involved, what they experience, and how they felt
about it’ (p. 17). In order to do this, experiences need to be reviewed
(likely more than once) from various points of view. Reflectivity entails
self-examination, which requires us to stand outside of our self and
find ways to question and understand the complex relationships we
have with others and our environment (Bolton, 2014). Although this
can be a very difficult task to undertake, it can be achieved through
strategies such as internal dialogue and support from others (Bolton,
2014). Reflective practice can be a powerful tool, with the ability to
enable individuals to learn about themselves, others, and their work
(just to name a few) by examining their experiences (Bolton, 2014).
Importantly, this practice enhances the exploration of, and experimen-
tation with, strategies and practices that can benefit the self and others.
In addition to applying reflective practice, this chapter will incorpo-
rate elements of Tripp’s (1993) critical incident analyses. This approach
provides an opportunity to learn significantly from experiences through
the exploration of a critical event. A critical event (or incident) need
not be an event of momentous proportions (at least in regard to the
appearance of the event); rather, critical events tend to be more rou-
tine or mediocre at first glance and it is when we apply critical thinking
358
strategies to the event that the true significance of the event is real-
ised (Tripp, 1993). In-depth critical reflection of ‘small’ events has the
potential to significantly impact on our behaviour (and that of others)
in the future. A unique and appealing facet of Tripp’s (1993) critical
incident approach is that through the application of critical thinking
and reflection, an event or incident once considered insignificant could
potentially provide significant learning opportunities.
Interestingly, it is not always the positive experiences themselves that
offer opportunity for reflective practice. Rather, what was not done or
could have been done more effectively provides opportunity to offer
guidance for successfully navigating significant candidature milestones.
By applying reflective practice (Bolton, 2014) and critical incident
analysis (Tripp, 1993) the current chapter offers strategies and advice
for timely and successful Ph.D. completion. Specifically, the current
chapter includes the reflectivity and critical incident analysis of our own
Ph.D. journeys.
Reflective Practice Structure

Although there are many significant milestones that occur throughout
the duration of Ph.D. candidature (e.g., acceptance into the program,
obtaining funding), and many factors which contribute to the success-
ful completion of a Ph.D. (e.g., academic support), the current chapter
primarily focuses on events from the first and last years of Ph.D. candi-
dacy. The reasons for this are twofold: In Australia, there are two signifi-
cant milestones which (usually) occur in these years (i.e., the Confirmation
of Candidature and submission of the thesis for examination),
and perhaps of greater importance, several critical incidents occurred for
both authors when preparing for these milestones.
The critical reflection section below is structured in the following
manner. First, we offer contextual information regarding our Ph.D.
program. In particular, we outline the Confirmation of Candidature
process and the submission of the Ph.D. for the examination process.
Second, we engage in reflection and critical analyses of our experiences
during our Ph.D.s. Last, based on our experiences, we posit strategies to
359
support Ph.D. completions with reference to the three common areas

contributing to doctoral student attrition: (1) Environment and/or
institutional factors (Lovitts & Nelson, 2000), (2) supervision qual-
ity (Bair & Haworth, 2004), and (3) individual characteristics of the
candidate (van de Schoot et al., 2013). It is important to note that the
reflections are structured in a manner to avoid repetition; many of the
experiences reflected upon below are shared experiences by the authors.
Ph.D. Program
Both Authors completed their Ph.D.s at the same Australian University
in the School of Psychology. The duration of full-time candidature for
a Ph.D. at the university was 4 years with the expectation the thesis
would be between 80,000–100,000 words. Both Authors were enrolled
full-time throughout the duration of candidacy and submitted their
Ph.D.s by traditional thesis.
Confirmation of Candidature. At Australian universities, full-time
Ph.D. students are expected to be confirmed within the first 12 months
of candidature, with the specifics of the confirmation process varying
between schools, faculties, and universities. Our university required that
candidates prepare a written document (proposal), a shortened version
of which would then be orally presented to a panel consisting of sen-
ior researchers, supervisors of the candidate, and an external party with
expertise in the field. The panel would assess the proposed project in
regards to its viability and likelihood of successful completion within
the prescribed time period, and would then determine if (a) the can-
didate should be confirmed (with or without minor changes), (b) the
candidate should significantly revise their project and present again, or
(c) the candidate’s candidacy should be terminated.
Submission of Ph.D. for Examination. The submission of a Ph.D.
for examination involved the supervisor approaching other academics in
the field (this was done informally with a representative from the uni-
versity formally approaching the examiner) for possible examination
of the thesis. Once examiners were confirmed, they were sent the the-
sis and asked to provide feedback within a 3 month period; however,
360
examination time can typically range anywhere from 3 to 12 months.

The candidate then received examination feedback in the form of
(generally) minor or major revisions. Once the revisions were made, the
candidate submitted their final copy of their thesis.
Author One (Jessica): Experiences

and Reflections
For me, the first 12 months of candidature involved much literature
(and soul) searching to really cement the project topic. The first critical
incident occurred around the six-month mark of candidacy and relates
to topic selection. I had been giving a significant amount of thought to
my project topic over the past months and while I knew what phenom-
enon I wanted to explore, I was still undecided about what population I
wanted to study the effect in. I had planned on utilising the same pop-
ulation as in my postgraduate honours thesis; however, the more I read,
the more I decided that there were more appropriate populations to
study the effect in. I was concerned about what my supervisors would
think about changing my population of interest 6-months in; however,
I arranged a meeting and explained my thoughts regarding the issue
and the relevant literature. My supervisors did not have opposition to
the change of population—and actually, around three months later the
population of interest changed again. What was significant about this
event for me was that, while I felt strongly about wanting to change an
aspect of my project, I was concerned to do so—not because I did not
think it was viable, but rather, I was more concerned about what others
(namely, my supervisors) would think about changing the plan I had for
the direction of my project. I did reflect to an extent on this incident
at the time, and I recall thinking if there was an aspect of my project
which I believed required change that I would ensure I raised my con-
cerns and would present my case for what I thought should transpire.
To me, this was an invaluable experience.
As the specifics of my topic, such as what population the phenome-
non of interest would be investigated in, were decided upon only after
361
about nine months of candidature, this did not leave a large amount of
time to prepare the confirmation document and presentation. Despite
this, given the time I had spent exploring the alternate possibilities and
literature, I felt very content with the topic and enthused about the pro-
ject. I do acknowledge that having more time to prepare the confirma-
tion document would have been beneficial, particularly as coming up
with reasonably complex and sound experimental designs takes time (and
feedback). Regardless, ensuring I was both motivated and invested in my
project was extremely beneficial, not just for the confirmation itself, but
for adherence to the Ph.D. program and successful completion.
Another particularly important reflection regarding my Ph.D. candi-
dacy regards time management. While no one critical incident stands
out to explore, there were several incidents in my first year of Ph.D.
candidacy—and to be honest throughout my doctoral studies—where
I had difficulties managing my time. The paragraph below reflects on a
combination of these incidents.
Meeting deadlines has never necessarily been problematic for me;
however, prior to completing a Ph.D. I had never worked on such a
large-scale project completed over a prolonged period of time. Although
I have always had the tendency to procrastinate (which did cause ele-
vated stress from time to time in both my undergraduate and postgrad-
uate studies), the end task was always completed prior to the deadline.
What I found unique about the Ph.D. was that while I was aware of
absolute deadlines (e.g., you should be confirmed as a candidate within
12 months of commencement), the self-imposed deadlines I created for
myself were generally not well adhered to. The problem was the sheer
size of the tasks that were required to be completed. It was no longer
possible to complete these tasks in the course of an evening or two (as
had previously worked quite well when necessary). I learnt that in gen-
eral, tasks took significantly longer (approximately three times longer
in most case) than I had initially anticipated. Once I figured this out
I became better (at least slightly) at setting myself more realistic dead-
lines. As a result, I was more likely to achieve what I had set out to do
within a specified time period (although this was not necessarily always
the case). This was important for obvious reasons, and also had the
362
added benefit of allowing me to give relevant parties (e.g., supervisors,

research services) more accurate deadlines regarding when certain docu-
ments or milestones would be accomplished.
Suggested Strategy 1. The first strategy I would offer to prospective
and current Ph.D. candidates relates to individual characteristics of the
candidate. Specifically, ‘speak up’ and not be alarmed that the project
may venture into avenues that were not initially anticipated. Make deci-
sions regarding your project that you are satisfied with; after all, you will
be spending the next 3–4 years (depending on university) completing
the project. Do not avoid changing a dimension of your project that
you are unhappy with or think could benefit from change. Although
you need to ensure that you have sound reasons for change, do not
avoid doing so because you are worried about what others may think or
that it is different from what you initially envisioned.
Suggested Strategy 2. The second piece of advice I offer to future
and current Ph.D. candidates is to ensure adequate time is spent explor-
ing the literature and cementing the proposed project. While research
suggests that frequent changing of the topic may be potentially prob-
lematic or an indication that the candidate is experiencing difficulties
(Manathunga, 2005), for me, the additional time spent in the early
stages of candidature were invaluable. Once I had a clear concept as to
what the project was and how I was going to successfully achieve this
(i.e., the design and method), it was relatively easy to construct the con-
firmation document.
Suggested Strategy 3. Another important strategy I suggest for first
year of Ph.D. candidature is ensuring that Ph.D. candidates (and also
supervisors) familiarise themselves with the various administrative dead-
lines and candidature milestones throughout the Ph.D. process. This
strategy directly aligns with two main areas identified as contributing to
doctoral student attrition: Institutional factors and supervision quality
(Lovitts & Nelson, 2000; Bair & Haworth, 2004). Both the institution
and the supervisors could work together to ensure the Ph.D. candidate
is well aware of administrative deadlines and candidature milestones.
363
Ideally, these should be explained during an induction to the Ph.D. pro-

gram and then revisited once the candidate is more settled.
Familiarising candidates with these timelines and milestones will ena-
ble candidates to implement more realistic self-imposed deadlines. It is
also important that the candidate’s timeline and goals are discussed with
their supervisor/s to ensure they are achievable and appropriate, not just
for the candidate but also for their supervisor. This will likely also ben-
efit administrative staff, who generally require notice in order to ade-
quately process candidature related documentation and ensure relevant
parties are informed of particular arrangements (e.g., chairing a panel,
signing of forms).
Author Two (Evita): Experiences and Reflections

Perhaps one of the most important, and anxiety provoking, critical
incidents that I reflected upon was the Confirmation of Candidature
presentation. I understood that the purpose of this presentation was to
ensure I had a worthwhile and feasible study that could be conducted
in a methodologically sound way and in a reasonable period of time.
Still, the range of possible outcomes was intimidating. For example, if I
did not successfully pass my confirmation of candidature, I would have
to repeat this process again in approximately three months, or worst
case my candidature would be terminated. This was the first time in the
Ph.D. process where I felt that I may not be successful in the program.
Leading up to the confirmation, I was told (by various parties) to
‘memorise’ my presentation—an intimidating prospect. Upon reflec-
tion, I now understand that people were not simply suggesting I learn
the presentation ‘off by heart’ (which was my initial interpretation of
their comments), rather that I needed to demonstrate to the panel that I
knew my project in depth.
Reflecting on the confirmation experience, I am grateful that it was
a process that needed to be completed. Although challenging, the con-
firmation did offer a supportive environment for a quality assurance
check on my proposed project. One of the most beneficial components
364
of this process was having a deeper understanding of my research area

and proposed project. For me, it was preparing the presentation where I
was required to articulate the importance and relevance of my topic that
really cemented both my passion and confidence in the project.
In addition, reflecting upon the incident above highlights a key fac-
tor that I believe contributed to my Ph.D. completion: Peer support.
My Ph.D. journey was littered with stressors, milestones, and accom-
plishments, and throughout all of these my fellow Ph.D. candidates
were a constant source of support and information. When preparing
for my confirmation presentation, I was able to draw on the knowledge
and experience of my peers who had already completed this milestone.
I felt able to ask my peers for guidance and clarification on adminis-
tration processes (best to also double check any information regarding
such processes from a relevant university representative) and questions
I did not want to bother my supervisor with. This supportive environ-
ment built a sense of comradery, where we would share each other’s
accomplishments (e.g., placing in the three-minute thesis competition)
or setbacks (e.g., difficulties with data and analysis). During the process
of writing this chapter, I consulted the literature on successful deter-
minants of Ph.D. completion (e.g., institutional factors, supervision
quality, and individual characteristics). Interestingly, although literature
identifies social support as an important contributing factor, many can-
didates reported it was the supervisor’s support that was most essential.
For me, the support of my fellow Ph.D. candidates was fundamental to
my successful Ph.D. completion.
Suggested Strategy 4. I recommend all Ph.D. candidates have a solid
understanding of both their confirmation document and presentation.
The additional time I spent structuring and practising my presenta-
tion boosted my confidence in both the presentation and in my pro-
ject. From my experience, I found that an in-depth understanding of
my presentation material elevated my levels of confidence in my ability
as a presenter and researcher, which is an important emotional outcome
during Ph.D. candidacy (Shacham & Od-Cohen, 2009). This increased
self-confidence assisted me in both executing the presentation and
responding to questions from the panel and other audience members.
365
I also recommend that key stakeholders invested in the Ph.D. candidate

(e.g., the supervisor and institution) communicate to the candidate
during this period the importance of the presentation. Appreciate the
presentation is an anxiety provoking experience and try to avoid instill-
ing the candidate with fear (i.e., ‘you must know this by heart’). Rather,
discuss the importance of a solid understanding of the project and the
ability to articulate this understanding to the audience. Practice poten-
tial panel questions with the candidate to enhance their confidence in
fielding questions related to the topic. Such strategies directly relate to
enhancing supervision quality in an attempt to reduce doctoral student
attrition (e.g., Bair & Haworth, 2004; van de Schoot et al., 2013).
Suggested Strategy 5. Get to know your fellow candidates, within
and even outside your discipline! Try to immerse yourself in the insti-
tutional culture of Ph.D. students. Keep an eye out for doctoral stu-
dent events that are held at the university. Attend ‘shut up and write’
sessions—either held on or off campus. The support from others who
share these experiences is invaluable. Other Ph.D. candidates will share
mutual understanding with you about the highs and lows of the Ph.D.
journey and can provide support that is less formal than the relation-
ship you share with your supervisor. Although it can seem daunting at
first (especially if you are attending those events on your lonesome!),
the shared experience and support Ph.D. candidates can provide each
other can contribute greatly to Ph.D. completion. Postgraduate stu-
dents repeatedly cite social support as an important source of strength
and managing stress (Clark, Murdock, & Koetting, 2009; Powers &
Swick, 2012). Relating directly to the critical area of institutional and
environmental factors that contribute to Ph.D. completion (e.g., Lovitts
& Nelson, 2000), the support of fellow Ph.D. candidates throughout
candidature can be invaluable.
Both Authors: Experiences and Reflections

We decided to combine our final reflections in one section, as both
reflections relate to taking leave during doctoral studies.
366
Author One (Jessica): It was during my last year of Ph.D. candidacy

that I experienced the most difficulties with time management, such as
setting realistic deadlines and adhering to these deadlines. This was in
part due to several significant milestones occurring in a relatively short
period of time. These milestones included compiling the draft thesis,
presenting my final thesis seminar, and submitting the thesis for exami-
nation. The last critical incident to be discussed occurred while I was in
the process of working through these tasks.
During this time, I sustained an injury which interfered with my
ability to continue working on the dissertation. I knew the injury would
likely impact upon my capacity to complete the tasks I was required to
do within the period of time I had remaining; however, I was feeling
a bit too optimistic about recovery time and as a result, I did not take
leave. While in the end this was not overly problematic as I managed to
complete just over a month beyond my due date, it did add additional
pressure and stress. This decision also likely caused additional stress
not only to my supervisors but also to relevant administrative staff, as
they would have likely needed to reconnect with examiners to ensure
availability.
In retrospect, taking a month off would have been the best outcome
for all parties involved. I recall submitting my ‘intention to submit’
paperwork to a staff member in research services and subsequently hav-
ing a discussion about my injury. The staff member informed me that
it would not be problematic to take a month or so of leave until I had
recovered, yet I assured her it would be fine. I suppose as I felt so close
to completion, I was reluctant to take time off and delay submission. I
also felt some pressure to complete as I had previously been awarded a
three-month extension. Looking back on this experience I believe there
are times when it is necessary, and even beneficial, to take time off. In
my case, taking leave would have resulted in the Ph.D. being finished
within the same time period, but fewer difficulties would have been
experienced by several parties.
Author Two (Evita): I would like to add to the reflection of the
importance of taking leave. My critical incident occurred during the
revision stage of the final draft of my thesis. During this time, I expe-
rienced a significant death in the family. I too was perhaps overly
367
optimistic about what I could achieve, and it was the sound advice of
one of my supervisors to take some time off. As they wisely pointed
out—I could keep working now, but what would be the quality of what
I was producing? I suppose I also was so close to completion I did not
want to delay with time off. Still, I took some time for myself and, iron-
ically, I believe the time off enabled me to submit sooner. Had I con-
tinued to work without recollecting and taking care of myself, the final
product would have taken longer as the quality would have suffered.
Suggested Strategy 6. We would both like to highlight the impor-
tance and acceptability of taking time off (e.g., recreational leave, sick
leave) during your candidature. While behaviours such as isolating one-
self and avoiding communication with one’s supervisor could be con-
sidered problematic for progress during candidature (Manathunga,
2005), taking time off is not. Supervisors and institutions should work
towards reducing Ph.D. candidate attrition and enhancing completion
during the required time by promoting time off when needed. The key
is to work smarter—not harder. Do not push yourself just to achieve a
product when the quality of the product will be questionable. It is per-
fectly acceptable to take time off to take care of yourself. We encourage
future and present Ph.D. candidates to familiarise themselves with leave
arrangements during candidature.
Summary of Reflective Practice Outcomes

These critical reflections have primarily focused on two key milestones in
the Ph.D. candidature process: Confirmation of Candidature and sub-
mission of the Ph.D. for examination. Our reflections on these events
have highlighted a number of strategies that may contribute to the suc-
cessful navigation of these milestones for current and future Ph.D. can-
didates. Such strategies included ‘speaking up’, being comfortable with a
changing project, topic selection, confidence in self and project, famil-
iarity with administrative procedures, time management, and coping
with time pressure. All these strategies reflect the three common areas
identified as contributing to doctoral student attrition: (1) environment
368
and/or institutional factors (Lovitts & Nelson, 2000), (2) supervision

quality (Bair & Haworth, 2004), and (3) individual characteristics of the
candidate (van de Schoot et al., 2013).
Importantly, we would like to note that there are several other
non-discussed important factors which almost certainly contribute to the
successful completion of a Ph.D. in a timely manner (e.g., the super-
visory relationship, institutional research culture; Manathunga, 2005).
Still, the strategies presented above have resulted from our own direct
experience and reflections. Such strategies may be less identified in
the literature, but are still likely to impact on progression through the
Ph.D. process.
Conclusion: Final Comment

As a final comment, we would like to speak directly to future Ph.D.
candidates. Given that research has identified institutional factors,
supervision quality and individual characteristics of the candidate as
three important areas that contribute to Ph.D. completion, take the
time to consider how these areas might impact on your own Ph.D. jour-
ney. What level of support would you require from your institution to
complete your Ph.D.? How do you envision a quality supervisor rela-
tionship? What personal characteristics of your own do you believe will
contribute towards your successfully completing a Ph.D.? What charac-
teristics could be improved? Reflecting on such questions and tailoring
your Ph.D. experience to your needs are empowering, and empower-
ment is a positive predictor of study engagement and success (Stubb,
Pyhalto, & Lonka, 2011).
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Netherlands: Springer.
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Bolton, G. E. J. (2014). Reflective practice: Writing and professional development

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IJDSv10p217-235Woolderink0852.pdf.
21
Traversing through Reversing: Using
Doctoral Studies to Juxtapose Research
with Practice
Lindy Kimmins
Introduction
When I began this chapter, I was a staff member at the University
of Southern Queensland (USQ), Australia; I was Peer Learning
Coordinator of a peer-assisted learning (PAL) program called
“Meet-Up”. My work required me to work with students—in particular,
student leaders. I had been involved in PAL for 23 years. The passion
that I had for the work, and the enjoyment that I derived from collab-
orating with the leaders and observing their personal growth and devel-
opment, stirred in me a desire to research my practice and the student
leaders and to make sense of what continually took place before my eyes.
But could I really do a doctorate? Most people pursued this achievement
towards the start of their careers. Was my passion for the subject enough?
Brailsford’s (2010) research suggested that I was not alone; the doc-
toral students whom he interviewed were mid-career, and were driven
L. Kimmins (*)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_21
372
L. Kimmins
by “a strong commitment to the dissertation topic itself coupled with a

desire to reach the summit of academic achievement”, [which he con-
sidered] were “forceful motives” (p. 25) for successful completion of a
doctorate. It didn’t seem to matter at what stage it was undertaken. I was
heartened. Perhaps I too could be successful, despite beginning a doc-
toral commitment as my working life was concluding. And, as I began
to ponder this dilemma, a favourite book character from my childhood
kept popping into my mind from the depths of memory: Alice!
“That’s the effect of living backwards,” the Queen said kindly: “It always
makes one a little giddy at first.”
“Living backwards!” Alice repeated in great astonishment. “I never
heard of such a thing!”
“–but there’s one great advantage in it, that one’s memory works both
ways.”
“I’m sure MINE only works one way,” Alice remarked. “I can’t remem-
ber things before they happen.”
“It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,” the Queen
remarked. (Carroll, 2000, pp. 46–47)
Why, that was exactly what I wanted to do: a thesis in reverse! I won-
dered would it work; I wondered if reversing through my life’s work
and practice would offer up a sufficiently strong background/environ-
ment to support a journey through to a doctorate. I had been buoyed
by Brailsford’s (2010) research, and now the more that I thought about
it, the more enthused that I felt as I drew parallels between Alice’s jour-
neys in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass and my journey. I
became inspired and (just a little!) obsessed.
I knew that I wanted to research the PAL student leaders, but exactly
what it was about them that I should research and how I should do it
still posed a problem. So I decided to begin my research journey by
simply outlining my practice in order to decide or choose which road
I should take. My research took me into the realm of PAL, through the
history of student personnel services; it opened the door into leadership
theories and traversed reflection and reflexivity (Lincoln & Guba, 2000,
as cited in Baxter Magolda, 2004, p. 32). I also dipped my toes into the
21 Traversing through Reversing …
373
water of personal epistemology, but, in the end, I was left with the real-
isation that I kept coming back time and again to my observations of
the student leaders’ personal development and transformation. What I
wanted my doctorate to do was to help me to understand how they had
developed and experienced student leadership.
Now I am retired. I have transitioned from a person with a demand-
ing dual life—full-time staff member and part-time doctoral stu-
dent—to a person with a less demanding dual life: full-time retiree and
part-time doctoral student. The passion to showcase the work in which
I was involved for 23 years has, however, not changed or grown dim
with time. I knew that it would be hard work.
“Why, I do believe we’ve been under this tree the whole time!
Everything’s just as it was!”
“Of course it is,” said the Queen. “What would you have it?”
“Well, in our country,” said Alice, still panting a little, “you’d generally
get to somewhere else – if you ran very fast for a long time as we’ve been
doing.”
“A slow sort of country!” said the Queen. “Now, here, you see, it takes
all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to
get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!” (Carroll,
1959, p. 21)
But, regardless, I decided that this was what I MUST write about.
And, as I began to retrace my steps, I found that I wanted to explore
my influence, my part in the student leaders’ growth and development;
I wanted to see what my role in it all was. This chapter has afforded me
the opportunity to explore my journey, and for this I am grateful.
Student Peer Learning at USQ

‘Begin at the beginning’ the king said, gravely, ‘and go on till you come to
the end: then stop’. (Carroll, 2000, p. 132)
So…. to start at the beginning…

374
L. Kimmins
It all began in 1995. I was asked to assist in the pilot of a student

peer-led program called Supplemental Instruction (SI) at the University
of Southern Queensland (USQ). SI involves students being chosen as
peer or student “instructors”, as they were called then, who facilitate
additional sessions in a course to assist students in their understanding
of difficult concepts. It embodies peer learning and collaborative learn-
ing frameworks. The course chosen for this trial was a first year Nursing
course. It had an unsatisfactory failure rate and was nominated by sen-
ior staff members in the Nursing department who hoped the trial would
yield better grades for students in the course. Seventeen students were
chosen to be peer instructors. These students attended training that
was run by Dr Deanna Martin, the founder of SI (Martin & Arendale,
1993), who happened to be visiting Australia at the time from the
University of Missouri-Kansas. The emphasis of the training was on
encouraging the instructors to be “inquiring, thoughtful, and socially
supportive learners” (Anderson, 1995, p. 4), so they in turn could guide
participating students in the same vein. SI sessions were timetabled to
follow the tutorials in the course with two student instructors taking
each session.
The report on the pilot summarised the experience as a success by
claiming that it was well attended and was appreciated by participating
students. It commented that SI should now be extended to other units
(courses). Its success was attributed to “the excellence of the materials,
the support of the university [nursing department] staff and the ded-
ication of the student instructors” (Anderson, 1995, p. 9). It was also
noted that the Vice Chancellor’s interest in the program and public wel-
coming of Dr Martin, as well as the Vice Chancellor Academic’s contin-
ued support was instrumental to its success.
So, SI was consequently rolled out to other courses at USQ, and for
me personally, my passion for being a part of students’ learning jour-
ney had found a home—a program through which to engage with stu-
dents and student leaders as they developed their capacity and interest
in improving their skills and knowledge. My appetite for contributing
to and sharing in this significant stage of a person’s life was whetted, and
I was hooked.
375
My work in the program continued and I became the coordinator and

sole staff member involved the program in 2008. I changed the name of
the program to Meet-Up and tweaked some of the structures and goals
to be more reflective of the needs to USQ students. In this role, my time
was consumed with the practice of getting the program up and running
each semester. There is a myriad of administrative tasks and procedures
that need to be completed for the program to function. This absorption
of time stifled my capacity to devote energy and time to researching my
practice for many years until finally, in 2014, I made a decision.
I realised that the growth of the student leaders as individuals had
fascinated me for many years. These student leaders invariably did not
consider themselves to be leaders or to even possess leadership qualities
(Kouzes & Posner, 2013, p. 8). Yet I watched these insecure, under-
confident, sometimes timid students blossom into competent, capable,
responsible, creative student leaders, who then continued on to achieve
high quality jobs on graduation (or sometimes even before that final ter-
tiary milestone). What exactly was happening? I was hungry for a more
in-depth analysis of the machinations of what was occurring daily in
this program.
I began to contemplate the student leaders’ growth more deeply. Was
their development attributable to their leadership role in the program?
It had to be surely. But how much was their development the result of
the tasks and requirements of their role and how much was their per-
sonal, individualised contribution to the role—what they brought to
the table, as it were. Did I need to dissect and separate the two? Should
I just view it holistically? After all, there are always many reasons for
most things that happen in the world and separating them out can be
fraught and pointless with no purposeful outcome. But perhaps for my
thesis, that is what I should try to do. This gave me a potential frame-
work on which to hang my dissertation, but it conjointly added con-
straints. The dilemmas in my mind continued!
In addition, as I debated in my mind my thoughts about the students
and their development, I realised I also wanted to explore my influence,
my part in this growth. I was uncertain as to how much the develop-
ment of the leaders was influenced by me and my efforts at continuous
376
L. Kimmins
development of the program; and juxtaposing: how much of any change

or growth in me (which I had never really examined in any detail) was
a result of engagement with the student leaders in my practice. More
dilemmas!
I decided that it was time I took the plunge and dove back into my
life and work to research the leaders in my practice, through the lens
of relevant theories and concepts, in order to arrive at a place of under-
standing just what my practice did to change and grow the leaders as
individuals. I had made a decision. I was going to embark on a Ph.D.
and the focus of my thesis was going to be the development of the stu-
dent leaders in the program. And so, much like Alice tumbling down
through the rabbit hole, of falling through the melting looking-glass,
I began.
Beginning My Journey Through a Strange World

It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply
arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how
to set about it… (Carroll, 2000, p. 39)
And just like Alice, I experienced conflicted emotions as I began to

wander through this new environment. I was excited yet apprehensive:
I was eager yet afraid, lacking confidence in my skills and my intellec-
tual capacity to take the journey.
‘It seems very pretty [the Jabberwocky poem],’ she said when she had fin-
ished it, ‘but it’s rather hard to understand!’ (You see she didn’t like to
confess, even to herself, that she couldn’t make it out at all.) ‘Somehow it
seemed to fill my head with ideas – only I don’t exactly know what they
are!’ (Carroll, 1959, p. 14)
I thought I knew who I was to this point in time, yet I was aware that
I may need or be obliged to change. I was frightened. Was I the per-
son I thought I was, or was I someone different? Was I going to be
revealed as a phony, a fraud? I was concerned that I would be judged
377
as incompetent, perhaps by myself as well as others (Leary, Patton,

Orlando, & Wagoner Funk, 2000). Would there be surprises I may not
enjoy? I wanted to protect myself from both failure and potential or
perceived failure.
Perhaps my practice would be revealed to be something other than
what I thought. Was I going to discover that nothing was what I had
always thought it to be? Did that matter? I may very well be out of my
league, aiming for pie in the sky. Was I attempting something too diffi-
cult for me? Should I give up before I even started?
‘There’s no use trying,’ she [Alice] said: ‘one can’t believe impossible
things.’
‘I dare say you haven’t had much practice,’ said the Queen. ‘When
I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes
I believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast…’ (Carroll,
1959, p. 49)
I thought about it again. It seemed there was only one thing to do: keep
going and trust that the person I was would find or develop the capabil-
ities to become the person I needed to be to steer me onwards, through
the challenges and times of self-doubt, until I reached the end—and
then I would stop.
Where to Begin My Research?

I knew there was some literature on PAL and its benefits to attending
students (Falchikov, 2001; Jacobs, 2005; Longfellow, May, Burke, &
Marks-Maran, 2008; Scott et al., 2008; Shook & Keup, 2012; Topping,
2005); I had explored some studies in the little time afforded to me for
research. The literature indicated that students grew in confidence aca-
demically and personally because they were learning from their model
peers, in a friendly environment, with advice and course-concept scaf-
folding presented in a way that they could understand easily and/or
they could ask the questions they thought might be viewed as silly in a
different forum. I had also written a published article on the evolution
378
L. Kimmins
of the Meet-Up program. I knew that students who participate in PAL

opportunities, develop “to a stage of maturity and confidence in their
chosen discipline specific learning career” (Kimmins, 2013).
But I had decided, still not very decisively, that what I wanted to
explore for my doctorate was student leadership: the development of the
student leaders as individuals. My supervisor recommended to me texts
on student personnel work in the United States. There was little written
about student development in the Australian sector, he declared. And
certainly, I had seen nothing. So it seemed a good place to start in order
to acquire some base level knowledge of the world in which I had been
practising for such a long time. I was curious as to what I would find.
Developing My Conceptual Framework

My first reading, a book called The New American College (Chickering,
1985), excited and surprised me. Here were researchers, learned expe-
rienced people writing about what I had always thought but had not
seen documented and researched. They were talking about students as
people, not as clients or empty vessels. I was amazed by the interest in
and concern for students as individuals and their whole development as
individual people. I was also amazed that this developmental approach
to learning dated back to the 1960s or even earlier! In the Foreword to
the book, The modern American college, Sanford claimed, the “develop-
ment of the student as a person is the central aim of education and that
all resources of our colleges should be put into the service of that aim”
(Sanford, 1962, as cited in Chickering & Associates, 1985, p. xvii).
Sanford quotes Chickering (1962, as cited in Chickering & Associates,
1985, p. xvii) as claiming that “the overarching purpose of our colleges
and universities should be to encourage and enable intentional develop-
mental change throughout the life cycle”.
In fact, the whole book is devoted to various theories of develop-
mental change in adults. It basically debunks or is a major shift away
from the theories of Freud and others who argued that personality was
formed in childhood and is set firmly in place by adolescence. I realised
that one of the emotions I was experiencing was annoyance, both with
379
our system and my colleagues and myself. I felt disappointed that such
logical considerations of universities’ purposes and ways of managing
have not been embraced and put into practice here. How did we get so
embroiled in just churning out graduates, that we lost sight of any con-
sideration for their development as rounded learned individuals?
“Curiouser and curiouser” (Carroll, 2000, p. 10), indeed!
I continued reading the Forward and remained amazed/staggered
that what I was reading was written [so] long ago. The argument came
through continually: the focus of universities should be the develop-
ment of each and every student as an individual. The aim should not
be to churn out clones who fit various job descriptions: nurses, teachers,
engineers. The goal should be to develop people for the world, people
who would be skilled and creative in their jobs, but also people who
could and wanted to contribute to their society.
Sanford claimed that this aim has been put aside by 1985 as stu-
dents’ insecurity about employment has caused them to focus on voca-
tional aspirations and educators have gone along with this. Faculty staff
became “over-focused” on curriculum and neglected the important
goal of individual development. He claimed that human development
should be the basis of the curriculum and he didn’t mince his words:
“Curricular offerings could be pruned, learning increased and teaching
made more effective” (Sanford, as cited in Chickering, 1985, p. xviii).
He continued this thought by proclaiming that the authoritarian atti-
tude of educators to learning in the higher education sector was some-
thing that needed to be “got over”.
The Introduction to this book continued in the same vein. It noted
that the book proposed that colleges and universities concern them-
selves deliberately and explicitly with human development; that the
values and aims of human development should be taken as the unify-
ing purpose and organising framework for all institutional efforts from
the beginning with Orientation through all educational requirements.
What is new in the book, it claimed, was the knowledge of the factors
that contribute to human development and the knowledge about the
gap between educational purposes and the actual outcomes achieved
by students. The book argued for increased opportunities for people
to determine their own developmental issues and how best they could
380
L. Kimmins
resource/service those aims. It claimed that social science research sug-

gests that new levels of human complexity, self-understanding and social
perspective can be achieved by adults given appropriate conditions.
I found this all very exciting; I’m not totally sure why. Perhaps it is
because it married with what I consider to be the benefits to participat-
ing students of the PAL programs, which include the growth of not just
course-based knowledge and understanding; feedback from Meet-Up
sessions constantly includes comments such as “great reviews of basic
concepts”. But more widely, Meet-Up affords students the opportunity
to develop program/discipline-based knowledge and understanding:
“I can see the potential in participating in Meet-Up as I continue to
learn/develop more throughout the degree”. For students who engage
in the program, there is the additional bonus of the potential to grow
in confidence and develop their social skills and cultural (USQ c ulture)
understanding and knowledge: “[The leader] instils confidence in
my ability”; another student commented: “I feel more confident in
approaching note taking and getting organised for exams”.
And so I moved on to studying some of the chapters in this book.
They began with theories about developmental stages. The first chapter
was written by Chickering and Havighurst and outlines adult life stages.
Havighurst (1972, as cited in Chickering & Havighurst, 1985, p. 25)
defines the developmental tasks of life as “those required for healthy
and satisfactory growth in our society”. He continues; they are the
“physiological, psychological and social demands a person must satisfy
in order to be judged by others and to judge him/herself to be a rea-
sonably happy and successful person”. The first stage is late adolescence
and youth and covers people from 16 to 23 years approximately. In this
stage, individuals are developing their own ethical system. Until now,
they have internalised the values they acquired from parents and family
members in childhood. Now they begin to think about and question
those values and sometimes throw them out.
The content/subject matter studied in many courses at university
contributes to students’ capacity to achieve developmental tasks and
enhance their individual development (Chickering & Havighurst,
1985, p 34). In keeping with the theme of the whole book, this chap-
ter intimates that educators are responsible for providing learning
381
experiences that aim specifically to help students develop as well as

maintaining a focus on disciplinary outcomes/objectives. The chapter
also makes the point that tertiary educators should be knowledgeable
about the developmental stages of adults and individual life cycle dif-
ferences because of the increasing numbers of adult learners. Educators
need to provide “alternative responses to wide-ranging life cycle differ-
ences”. It claims that any changes to education practices made to suit
adult learners would more than likely benefit school leavers as well, con-
tributing to effective higher education experience and outcome for all.
And so the book continued, with me learning rather a lot about
developmental theories.
‘Fan her head!’ the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. ‘She’ll be feverish
after so much thinking.’ (Carroll, 2000, p. 93)
And with each different theory, I thought: “Yes! I have watched and
heard the student leaders in my program articulate experiences that
demonstrate they were in the throes of travelling through that particular
stage”! So they were indeed growing and developing before my eyes, just
as Alice did in her adventures—except that the leaders were growing
emotionally, socially and intellectually rather than physically.
Leadership Theories
I read with increased interest more [old] books about student/adult
development, including Rentz and Associates (1996b) where I found
this apt quote:
The concept of student development can be defined as “the application of

human development concepts in postsecondary settings so that everyone
involved can master increasingly complex developmental tasks, achieve
self-direction and become interdependent”. (Miller & Prince, 1976, p. 3
as cited in Rentz, 1996a, p. 49)
But after a while, my thoughts wandered down a new path.

382
L. Kimmins
‘And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow, I wonder?’

It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one
road through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it.
(Carroll, 1959, p. 32)
It was the path to the topic of leadership. I knew the qualities that good
student leaders possessed (or I thought I did!), but I did not know how
they acquired them. Were they innate; could they be acquired, devel-
oped, nurtured? Certainly, I believed that they could be developed;
I had observed and documented student leaders grow their skills. Was
this happening by default or osmosis? Was the program explicitly con-
tributing to this development, or were the leaders doing it largely by
themselves. I needed to investigate.
The word transformational was one I could not easily get past. It
seemed to me that what was happening in Meet-Up was the transfor-
mation of everything! Baxter Magolda (2012) claims that students
need more than just informational learning at university to develop
the skills needed in the workplace such as self-direction, initiative.
They need transformational learning to allow them to develop personal
responsibility. She suggests that it is fitting that students develop these
skills while still at university, but her studies/research indicate that this
is rare.
I claim that in my peer-led program, students are encouraged/
facilitated to develop such skills, but more importantly for me, with my
thesis’ focus, I assert that the student leaders undertake transformational
learning within themselves, and what’s more, they execute transforma-
tional leadership as part of their role. They empower students in their
individual learning journey and they help students construct (scaffold) a
better understanding and skill base from which to climb up through the
steps of discipline knowledge.
So… The students who attended could be transformed; the leaders
were transformed; was I too transformed?
‘But if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I?
Ah, that’s the great puzzle.’ (Carroll, 2000, p. 14)
383
The leadership path began to reveal so many theories that I needed to

read about. I became scared again. There was democratic leadership, dis-
tributive leadership, transformational leadership, servant leadership…
among others. And as I began to read about leadership theories, I began
to think about myself and my own growth as an individual. I realised
that I was thinking about my role in a different way to what I ever had
before. I had always focused on the practical, the actual practice, the
getting things done so that the program ran. I had not really thought
further or deeper about my part or place than just that. Now I was hun-
gry to investigate my role, my influence on the program.
And so I needed to consider if my practice had changed me. Just as
Alice acknowledged/realised her encounters had changed/transformed
her, I needed to consider if my practice and my research journey into
my practice had changed me too. Was I the same person? Had I devel-
oped and grown as an individual too? In what ways was I changed.
‘Who are you?’ said the caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied

rather shyly, ‘I – I hardly know, sir, just at present – at least I know who
I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed
several times since then.’ (Carroll, 2000, p. 42)
Reflection and Reflexivity

My curiosity about leadership led me to explore further and I uncovered
literature on self-reflection of which I was largely aware, and autoeth-
nography and reflexivity, of which I was not. I began my reading on
this topic with an article by Leon Anderson (2006). The goal of reflex-
ive ethnography (and autoethnography) according to Davies (1999,
as cited in Anderson, 2006, p. 385) is to “seek to develop forms of
research that fully acknowledge and utilize subjective experience as an
intrinsic part of research”. Now this fitted with what I wanted to do.
The major challenge with visibly incorporating subjective experience
into ethnographic work, Anderson (2006, p. 385) notes, is that it can
384
L. Kimmins
“lead to self-absorption” in what Geertz (1988, as cited in Anderson,

2006, p. 385) has disparagingly referred to as “author saturated texts”.
Anderson (2006) goes on to claim that autoethnography loses its cred-
ibility and any degree of detachment when it dissolves into just self-in-
trospection. And this is certainly what I did not want to do!
Anderson (2006) then quoted Ruth Behar (1996, p. 14) who argues,
“The exposure of the self who is also a spectator has to take us some-
where we couldn’t otherwise go to. It has to be essential to the argu-
ment, not a decorative flourish, not exposure for its own sake”. There
are a number of places beyond “decorative flourish” that self-narrative
can take us. It can take us to the depths of personal feeling, lead-
ing us to be emotionally moved and sympathetically understanding
(Anderson, 2006, p. 385).
The final characteristic of analytic autoethnography is its commit-
ment to an analytic agenda (Anderson, 2006). The purpose of analytic
ethnography is not simply to document personal experience, to provide
an “insider’s perspective”, or to evoke emotional resonance with the
reader. Rather, the defining characteristic of analytic social science is to
use empirical data to gain insight into some broader set of social phe-
nomena than those provided by the data themselves. Is this really what I
wanted to do? I was now unsure.
Perhaps reflexivity was more for me. I read Baxter Magolda (2004).
The idea of critically reflecting on myself as a researcher was more
tempting (Lincoln & Guba 2000, as cited in Baxter Magolda 2004,
p. 32). But then I discovered another whole domain of literature about
understanding of self—personal epistemology. It was claimed personal
epistemologies were assumptions about the nature of knowledge and
its acquisition that were often tacit and under-investigated (Urman &
Roth, 2010, p. 9). I found that exciting and it sounded like my situa-
tion too, but once again it was a bit scary! Could I do this? Did I have
the capacity? Self-doubt tiptoed in again.
I am now three years into my dissertation from when I first began to
write this chapter. Now in retirement, I no longer have the stresses and
pressures of my previous job, but I do miss my colleagues and our colle-
gial chats, both formal or informal and those that occurred by happen-
stance. I do have the ongoing support of family and friends, and while
385
I still have times of self-doubt and lack of confidence, I now believe

I can successfully accomplish my goal of doctorate completion. To help
ward off the doubting demons as they raise their ugly heads, I immerse
myself in researching and writing my doctorate and I make contact with
(also suffering) fellow candidates. It has become clear that very few peo-
ple achieve their doctorate without some degree of self-doubt.
I have written from the heart about my doctoral journey not only
in this chapter, but also in a reflective diary, which is ignored for some
lengths of time, only to be harried and hassled frequently and at great
length at other times. This exercise has allowed me to create clearer
headspace so that I can step back from my passion and intense immer-
sion in my study to focus more purely on what I actually did in my
practice in PAL. Hence, in my dissertation, I make explicit my role in
the PAL programs in which I practised and I state clearly my observa-
tions. Debriefing and reflecting in my diary also permits me to read and
review dispassionately what the literature has said.
Another factor that keeps severe doubt in check is my relationship
with my supervisors.
Key relationships
‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’
‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat.
‘I don’t much care where – ’ said Alice.
‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat.
‘– so long as I get somewhere,’ Alice added as an explanation.
‘Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long enough.’
(Carroll, 2000, p. 67)
My supervisors are wonderful, but they are also variously the

Wonderland and Looking-Glass characters. Sometimes they mirrored
the bossy, imperious and (almost!) belligerent and opinionated Red
Queen and White Queen. They can be adamant about certain proce-
dures or literature I should read. At other times they are very much the
Cheshire cat, making observations and fading from sight, so that in
my mind’s eye I saw just the grin, the smile of assuredness. They had
been where I was; but no one could control my journey except me.
386
L. Kimmins
I had ultimate responsibility for where I wandered in this wonderland

and how I handled situations as they arose. My supervisors are there to
encourage, advise; make declarations from their observation, even out-
landish statements; but it is up to me to make sense of it all. And, more
than that, actually put it all together—and write my story.
My relationship with my supervisors has remained steadfast in the
three years that have passed since my doctorate and this chapter were
begun. The transition from full-time staff member/part-time stu-
dent to part-time student only was gradual and gentle, despite being
accomplished formally in just one day. My supervisors were both my
colleagues and my doctoral supervisors, and now they are my doctoral
supervisors only. One could assume that this might make me more
aware of the hierarchical relationship of doctoral student to supervisor,
yet for me it does not. Perhaps the personalities of my supervisors and
the solid relationships that have been constructed have prevented this
from occurring. While I still sometimes lack confidence in my abilities,
my supervisors continue to guide and encourage, cheer and reassure me.
My research has taken me down magical, mysterious, bewilder-
ing and confusing pathways; it has included interludes with wondrous
“creatures” and their strange speak and outlandish unfamiliar ideas, but
I must get a grasp of what is the true route for me, the best road to take
me to where I need to end up. This I have to do alone.
Epiphany time
Of all the strange things that Alice saw in her journey Through the
Looking-Glass, this was the one that she always remembered most clearly.
(Carroll, 1959, p. 84)
I learned that while I was interested in leadership theory and what kind
of leader I was, and while I was fascinated by reflexivity and personal
epistemology, I had delighted most of all in discovering more about
students’ personal development. Hence, in the end, I was left with the
realisation that because I kept sneaking back time and again to personal
development and transformation, that this was the topic that excited me
most and was therefore the topic I should focus on.
387
It also finally dawned on me that my doctoral journey was not going

to be a straight and direct path; that, like Alice’s, the path was going
to wind and wander, that it would go uphill and down dale; that there
would be side roads that offered glimpses or hints of the possibility of
intellectual reward and stimulus, but sometimes they just faded like the
Cheshire cat into time-consuming distractions and obfuscations.
But one thing was certain—I was going to be a changed person; I was
going to have grown and developed as an individual. I had learnt that
individuals do not stop growing and developing as the school years end;
their personal characteristics, intelligence and values are not fixed in
stone. They can change; they can transform—they can develop in all
ways. I wanted to see how much and in what ways this had happened to
both the student leaders and to me.
‘I could tell you my adventures – beginning from this morning,’ said

Alice a little timidly; ‘but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because
I was a different person then.’ (Carroll, 2000, p. 112)
So this was where my journey had got to me to. Not a great journey
through a bewildering fantastic wonderland, but a journey back into
self; again—just like Alice!
‘That’s the effect of living backwards,’ the Queen said kindly: ‘it always
makes one a little giddy at first.’
‘Living backwards!’ Alice repeated in great astonishment. ‘I never
heard of such a thing!’
‘–but there’s one great advantage in it, that one’s memory works both
ways.’
‘I’m sure MINE only works one way’ Alice remarked. ‘I can’t remem-
ber things before they happen.’
‘It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,’ the Queen
remarked. (Carroll, 2000, pp. 46–47)
I realised that it didn’t matter if I took side roads; the important thing
was that I was learning and as I learned, I was changed and trans-
formed. This transformation might occur in stages; parts of me may
388
L. Kimmins
grow more than others; some changes may be short term—but I was
going to be a different person. And I learned that it doesn’t matter at
what age or stage in life the journey happens, it is worth the effort.
Conclusion
“It’s no use talking about it”, Alice said, looking up at the house and pre-
tending it was arguing with
her.
“I’m not going in again yet. I know I should have to get through the
Looking-glass again – back into
the old room – and there’d be an end of all my adventures!” (Carroll,
1959, p. 15)
I began my research adventure by outlining my practice in order to

choose which road I should take: I began to traverse my doctoral jour-
ney by reversing through my life’s work and practice. I guess that I won’t
know for sure if this approach has worked until my doctorate is finally
completed but, at this point in time, I feel passionate that this back-
wards method will reward me with insight into the personal growth and
development of both the student leaders and myself.
“It’s too late to correct it,” said the Red Queen; “When you’ve once said a
thing that fixes it, and you must take the consequences.” (Carroll, 1959,
p. 93)
This chapter has given me licence to begin to explore myself as I under-

take the doctoral journey; to investigate the change and development
that have occurred within that has made me a different, changed,
grown, developed and transformed individual. I know now that I am
hooked—that I must go on with the journey!
“I can’t tell you now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in
a bit.”
“Perhaps it hasn’t one,” Alice ventured to remark.
389
“Tut, tut, child!” said the Duchess. “Everything’s got a moral.” (Carroll,
2000, p. 94)
Perhaps this chapter will provide some hope for others who are near-
ing the end (or even the middle) of their academic careers. Perhaps it
will shine a light for them to see that the normal forward process of
doing a doctorate early in a career path and using it as a stepping stone
for further research is not the only path that can be taken. Traversing a
research doctorate, by reversing through a lifetime’s work and practice,
offers a magical journey into self that can expose just how much growth
and development have taken place. It can take you places that you may
otherwise never have visited, showing you discoveries that you may oth-
erwise never have made.
Perhaps you may choose, like Alice, to drink from the “Drink me”
bottle and give it a try.
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22
Depression, Doctorates and Self
Robert Templeton
Introduction
Depression is an emotional disorder, causing distress and impairment of
functioning that are displayed by cognitive, physiological, behavioural
and motivational symptoms. The mix of symptoms and the severity of
the symptoms are variable. Depression is not confined to the psycholog-
ical degeneration of the elderly but does affect people of all ages, gen-
ders and cultures. The effect of these depressive symptoms in the higher
Since this paper was researched and written, changes to my psychological wellbeing have
occurred. The severity of the recent depression episode has been attributed to an episode of
uncontrolled Diabetes Type 2. That is, the level of blood sugar was never within the acceptable
medical range. This necessitated a critical change in diet in July 2016 that has allowed these
depression episodes to subside so that the severity of depression is considered as ‘mild’, resulting
in a cognitive behaviour range around the conscious phase, and allowing for greater production
of acceptable analysis and interpretation of research data. For the last three years, I have been
categorised as being ‘in remission’ relative to diabetes-induced depression.
R. Templeton (*)
e-mail: r_templeton@iprimus.com.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_22
394
R. Templeton
education sector is to cause problems for students such as motivation

and lower grades. Universally, student depression is responsible for a
decreased quality of life and an increase in the risk of suicide (Kwawaja
& Bryden, 2006).
Depression in students has a negative impact on their ability to meet
work and study commitments. This is suggestive of a link between
depression and student non-completion at undergraduate and post-
graduate levels of higher education. Psychological distress in Australian
higher education students is about 48%, with approximately 86% of
such students withdrawing prior to completion (Reavley, McCann, &
Jorm, 2012b). That is, about 41% of doctoral students will drop out
of their studies during their programs. However, Kiley (2009) indicated
that among Australian postgraduate research students some do return
to complete their degrees. Based on this phenomenon, it is possible
to conclude that the effects of depression may be recurring over time
(episodic), or that there is variability in the severity of the illness.
Characteristics of Depression
According to Furman and Bender (2003), the problem with depression
is that it “is so prevalent that it has been referred to as the ‘common
cold’ of mental illness. However, unlike the common cold, depression
can be fatal, and has been referred to as the world’s number one pub-
lic health problem” (p. 124). Once thought to be a general population
issue of ‘westernised’ countries such as Great Britain, Europe, the United
States of America and Australia, recent work such as Nemade Reiss, and
Domeck’s (2007) ethnomedical research indicates that depression also
occurs in non-westernised cultures. They suggest that the once thought
of lesser incidence of depression in non-westernised Asian societies may
be the result of the individualistic orientation of westernised cultures as
contrasted with the collectivist cultural orientation of Asian cultures.
Stallman (2010) indicated that the proportions of domestic and inter-
national graduate students experiencing depressive symptoms can be
directly correlated with their relative proportions in the graduate student
population. Stallman found that, while the domestic and international
395
students accounted for 71% and 29% of the total participants, the inci-
dence of self-reported depression was 69% and 31% respectively. That
is, the statistical difference between the two groups is minor. Stallman
concluded “that university students are an at-risk population for men-
tal health problems and highlight the need for a population health
approach to the prevention and treatment of mental health problems in
students” (Stallman, 2010, p. 256).
Depression in university students is thought to be triggered in part
by the university environment, which requires the student to cope
with challenging and demanding situations. These include mastering
new skills and frequent academic stress (Kwawaja & Bryden, 2006),
including study loads and preparing for assignments and examinations
in addition to the usual daily living pressures. However, not all stu-
dent depression occurs as a result of the higher education setting for,
as Wynaden, Wichmann and Murray (2013) suggested, students may
enter higher education with an emerging or pre-existing mental dis-
order such as depression. Also, as Reavley and Jorm (2010) indicated,
university students are less likely to develop depression from a higher
education environment than the non-student population within a com-
munity. Many students will enjoy and cope with the stresses of higher
education without developing depressive symptoms.
Nemade et al. (2007) indicated that drug and or alcohol abuse,
overwork or study, poor diet and a lack of exercise, sleep and recreation
activities are among these factors that can lead to depression. In a study
of Australian university students, Said, Kypri and Bowman (2013)
found that 30% of these students self-reported at least one of the fol-
lowing symptoms; depression, anxiety, eating disorders such as glut-
tony and poor nutrition, and abuse of alcohol. Those who reported the
higher rates of these disorders “were women, 25 to 34 year old, students
on low incomes, and homosexual or bisexual students” (Said et al.,
2013, p. 935). Many research higher degree students are considered to
be within these age and income groups. Severe levels of depression can
result in a “reduced capacity or total impairment for more than 10 days
on average” in a month (Stallman, 2010, p. 255).
However, symptoms of student depression are not always observa-
ble (Trudgen & Lawn, 2011). While depression is described as being
396
R. Templeton
psychological, there are sociological behaviours that may be observed.

Reavley et al. (2012b) reported that in excess of 70% of university
staff members and students within Australia are capable of recognising
depression symptoms. They also reported that within the student pop-
ulation that “recognition was associated with older age, female gender,
being born in Australia and a higher level of education” (Reavley et al.,
2012b, p. 51). These results suggested that the experiences of mature,
Australian-born, educated women lead to an increased awareness of
capacity to recognise depression symptoms in others such that the early
referral of students displaying depression may be undertaken by women.
The symptoms of depression occur in three different and distinct
behavioural aspects, according to Wynaden et al. (2013) and Kwawaja
and Bryden (2006). These include the cognitive symptoms of a “lack
of concentration, pessimism, self-blame, self-dislike and lack of energy”
(Wynaden et al., 2013, p. 848). The social symptoms can include dif-
ficulties in “making friends and assertiveness”, and motivational symp-
toms include issues of “dependency and loss of initiative” (Kwawaja &
Bryden, 2006, p. 22). This has particular relevance to research higher
degree humanities students who undertake their research individually
rather than as research and/or peer support teams.
Motivational symptoms are particularly relevant to students. This is
because, as Kwawaja and Bryden (2006, p. 23) pointed out, “motivation is a
major requirement of university life and identifying the nature of depressed
students’ motivational problems is important in assessment, because these
symptoms may directly impact their success at the university”. For example,
Kramer, Helmes, Seelig, Fuchs and Bengel (2014) suggested that depression
causes a lack of enthusiasm to undertake many daily tasks. Kramer et al.
(2014, p. 1208) indicated that volitional motivation deficit is expressed psy-
chologically as “increased negative outcome expectations” and “decreased
positive outcome expectations”. The sociological effect of these volitional
deficits is an increased dependence on others and the loss of self-determina-
tion. This may be observed as a reliance on others to undertake tasks. Thus
the motivation to complete the research as an individual researcher becomes
doubtful and may result in non-completion.
Social symptoms of depression include an avoidance of previously
enjoyable activities, reduced social contact caused by a reluctance to
397
socialise, a preference to stay at home, and becoming passive and with-

drawn (Kwawaja & Bryden, 2006). These symptoms may be allied with
a lack of energy, weight loss or gain and sleep problems, increased irri-
tability and physical pain such as fibromyalgia or chronic fatigue syn-
drome. Cognitive symptoms may involve a loss of interest in those
things that were previously enjoyed, a lack of motivation, reduced abil-
ity to concentrate and analyse, low self-esteem, a pessimistic worldview
and morbidity thoughts (Nemade, Reiss, & Dombeck, 2014; Succeed
Socially.com, 2015; Tracey, 2014; Wynaden et al., 2013). The exist-
ence of these symptoms can have an effect on volition and hence on the
motivation to complete the research project.
Although Australian tertiary education institutions offer their stu-
dents access to counselling support services, the incidence of higher
education students seeking help is low. These students are reported as
not seeking help or delaying seeking professional help. However, some
students do actively use self-help strategies involving communication
with peers who have also experienced depressive symptoms (Kiley,
2009). There are a number of factors that interact and affect the self-
help activities of students, including a lack of mental health literacy,
attitudes and perceived stigma at the personal level, and family, educa-
tion institution or community support systems and health system struc-
tures at the structural level (Reavley & Jorm, 2010; Reavley, McCann,
& Jorm, 2012a; Wynaden et al., 2013). According to Werth (2013),
some people actively invoke the concepts of ‘passing’ and ‘covering’ to
conceal their illness, especially within an employment environment.
This is undertaken to avoid the stigma of malingering or suggestions of
delusional health behaviours.
Methodology
The autoethnographic data discussed in this chapter were drawn from
a larger dataset collected prior to and during my doctoral thesis. The
research findings were empirical as they represented my thoughts and
experiences about the process of undertaking a doctoral research qualifica-
tion. The research was qualitative and invoked phenomenology to provide
398
R. Templeton
the affective detail of my emotions. I have previously thematically ana-

lysed the dataset using NVivo software; however, for this chapter the rele-
vant raw autoethnographic data have been extracted and, with additional
reflections on my depression experiences, reanalysed.
Autoethnography is ethnography of the self and collected from the
author-participant’s memories of the phenomenon (Chang, 2008) of
depression. According to Hickey and Austin (2007):
Autoethnography opens possibilities for the development of a critical

reflexivity wherein senses of Self and agency might come to be understood
in terms of the social processes that mediate lived experience and the mate-
rial realities of individuals. It is on this basis that autoethnography offers
opportunity for the enactment of a genuinely critical pedagogy. (p. 21)
Thus the use of autoethnography as the research method allows the

emotive and pragmatic behaviours of depression to be illuminated and
discussed.
Findings
The findings are an autoethnographic narrative of my recollection of
depressive episodes, including trigger events and subsequent physiologi-
cal and sociological effects. Included is an analysis of moods grounded in
the three symptoms of motivation, cognition and sociability (Kwawaja
& Bryden, 2006), and the recognition of depression symptoms.
I had been relatively free from the symptoms of depression for a number
of years prior to and in the early stages of my doctorate. The realisation
that they had returned was unwelcome. I had withdrawn from social con-
tact and had developed a low level of self-esteem and motivation. This
was manifested in my lack of interest in many former pursuits and caused
the loss of many relationships. However, these were episodes of depres-
sion and I would emerge from the depressive ‘fog’ to undertake a number
of creative cultural and social activities within education and employ-
ment. It is only now after many years of these depressive episodes that I
have been able, with help, to seek a ‘normal’ place in society and be com-
fortable with ‘who I am’.
399
My depression episodes are the result of a self-perceived inability to

solve issues within my professional, educational and personal spaces.
I can have an impending sense of doom at what may possibly occur if
certain situations are not resolved. Such depressive episodes may develop
over time or quite suddenly, depending on my perceived relevance of the
problem. The resultant stress and anxieties that develop are the cause of
my depression, for which I have undertaken much cognitive therapy. For
me, stress caused by situations outside my control and which I am not
capable of addressing is the triggering mechanism for my anxieties and
depression.
The moods that accompany my retreat into or escape out of depression
are in my mind similar to waves with peaks and troughs. Usually I live
in the mid-wave area, which is a neutral position. The troughs represent
depressive episodes, and the waves suggest a form of elation or happiness
with life in general; both positions have their issues. Thus, when I rec-
ognised the possibility of the non-completion of my doctorate, anxieties
developed.
The progressions of events leading to my depressive episodes are not
uncommon. Friends in whom I confide have at various times developed
similar symptoms affecting their lives in similar ways. They follow a
somewhat predictable pathway of frustration, anger and anxiety due to
the inability to resolve some issue current or past, resulting in depressive
symptoms.
Living with depression, including self-applied loneliness, can be

accentuated by the nature of the doctoral degree. Because of the peda-
gogic practices of many universities, social science and humanities doc-
torates have been described as the loneliest of all the higher education
postgraduate degrees. Unlike the teacher-directed learning of undergrad-
uate and master’s degrees, the doctorate is predicated on student-directed
learning, which requires psychological resilience and self-efficacy.
Motivation, Cognition, Sociability and Moods

Motivation can be severely affected by depression. This results in feel-
ings of listlessness, an inability to commence or complete tasks and a
feeling of complete uselessness in the student. In turn, this can cause
400
R. Templeton
mood swings that oscillate among anger, frustration and self-isolation.

The effect of this can be a loss of support of close family members,
friends and others who are not always aware of the causes of the self-im-
posed isolation (Kramer et al., 2014; Kwawaja & Bryden, 2006). There
is a lack of motivation to commence writing, literature searches or data
collection, which causes frustration, as the intrinsic motivation to suc-
ceed is not diminished by the depression. As the depressive episode con-
tinues, the intensity of the frustration and anger also increases, which in
turn deepens the state of depression. However, during these episodes, it
is possible to continue to undertake the less creative aspects of research.
This includes locating literature relevant to the research questions, and
cataloguing and filing such literature either digitally or physically.
There are three self-identified phases of my cognitive symptoms that
I interpret in relation to their functionality as being habitual, conscious
and creative, and that are reflective of ‘states of mind’. These states of
mind are often observable as moods that drive my actions or lack of
actions, verbal and non-verbal demeanours, and sociability.
During the darkest phase of a habitual mood, my cognitive processing of

research issues can be severely impaired. In some circumstances, writing
of the thesis can occur, but generally the creative literary skills are reduced
or not available owing to a loss or inability to process the data cognitively
with sufficient clarity of thought (Kramer et al., 2014). My personal
span of concentration to read and analyse can also be severely reduced.
However, it is possible to read and take notes of the research data, includ-
ing the empirical data and literature recorded digitally with qualitative
software or handwritten. My handwriting during this phase can be small
and tight rather than open, reflecting my mood at the time. While the
reduction of data analysis and the lack of concentration can result in a
collection of disconnected notes and writings, these may be integrated
using an iterative process of refinement.
During this mood, I can often be unsociable and not wanting social
contact. I can also appear abrupt in my communication with others by
my refusal to make changes to written chapters or thesis structure, and
my reluctance in not wanting to communicate my mood. I can also
be resentful of the intrusion into what is perceived as my ‘space’. This
may be demonstrated by a failure to respond to or even acknowledge
401
communication from others. Such moods can damage or destroy rela-

tionships with others. I can become extremely frustrated and angry
with myself and those around me during this phase. My demeanour can
become very off-hand through to non-communicative when approached
for assistance.
Such behaviour does not endear a student to lecturers or supervisors,

and must never be allowed to dominate one’s personality when interact-
ing with others. This does contribute to the need for social isolation.
During such phases, I attempt not to leave my home, preferring to under-

take a limited functional approach to the research tasks and any associated
administrative issues. Fortunately such moods are usually short- to mid-
term in their duration of a day to a couple of weeks. However, they can be
recurring, with an overall duration of years interspersed with periods of con-
scious or creative moods. It is during these glimpses of neutrality and crea-
tiveness that I have, at times, been known to shun other activities to achieve
the required rate of data processing and other research tasks. Doctoral
degrees may be student directed, but they are also constrained by time.
When moving into or out of the habitual phase, I encounter the con-
scious phase in which I function cognitively with thoughtfully considered
decisions and actions. During this transition, it is possible to analyse data
and prepare useful and meaningful notes about the research. The con-
scious mood is one of emotional neutrality for me. It bridges the habitual
and creative moods and includes components from both, interacting with
my personal and work spaces. The conscious mood phase is more amena-
ble to socialising, although isolation will still be sought more as a form of
privacy than as non-sociability. Overall, there are mood alternations that
shift between the habitual and creative states of mind.
For me, the conscious phase or mood is a productive time. My mood
in this phase is one of calmness and control. The bulk of the research
tasks may be completed during this mood. However, habitual and crea-
tive mood glimpses will emerge, which can be utilised successfully.
When participant interviews are being undertaken, the neutral mood

provides a calmness that assists in engendering a conversational style
of interview. This is enhanced with the assistance of scripted interview
questions as the basis for the interview.
402
R. Templeton
Scripted interview questions in my opinion are a must to maintain direc-

tion in the interviews. As the interview progresses, hopefully the crea-
tive mood will emerge to allow insightful questions to emanate from the
interview. Such interviews can contain a large volume of phenomenologi-
cal data owing to the relaxed interviewing style and these directed insight-
ful questions. I have experienced that such a process generally ensures
that the participant will also be relaxed, with an increased amenability to
discuss the research questions and with greater detail.
The conscious phase is also a productive period in which I commence
and complete such tasks as transcribing the audio recordings of the inter-
views, which is not always enjoyable, but a necessary task. Such tasks
involve a certain amount of analysis of the data, including thematic anal-
ysis. This is also drawn out by necessary tasks that I undertake with the
assistance of NVivo software rather than attempting to handwrite. Then
there are the many other tasks associated with doctoral research: litera-
ture searches, downloading and printing out of papers and filing those
papers to ensure their easy recovery, contact with my supervisor, semester
progress reports and a myriad of other required tasks. Thus, for me, this
phase is the most productive for research.
The creative phase is where I prefer to write owing to the insightful
and meaning-making thoughts that are interpreted from the data and the
literature via notetaking. The mood when I am in the creative phase is
opposite that of the habitual mood. As with my conscious phase behav-
iours, I seek social contact; will willingly undertake constructive feedback
about my work and in general be a good member of society. This mood
can be observed by my outgoing and friendly attitude and my willingness
to be a part of the community in which I live and work. The initiating
issues of depression, stress and anxiety are analysed rationally and reflec-
tively rather than irrationally so that my emotions are constructive and
not self-destructive.
I use the creative mood to undertake most of the thesis analysis and
interpretation leading into the thesis writing. It is during this ‘state of
mind’ that I believe that my intuitive and deductive senses are at their
strongest. I examine the video recordings in conjunction with the audio
to attempt an interpretation of the non-verbal data displayed by the par-
ticipants. This, in conjunction with the transcripts and the thematic data,
forms the basis for my sociological interpretation of the entire dataset.
While I am in this creative ‘state of mind’, I can interpret the collected
data with clarity. I am able to make associations within the data to analyse
403
in depth, interpret and describe the findings of the research. This also
allows an insightful synthesis for the conclusions to the research project.
However, I do exercise caution with respect to some of the associations
that I make within the research data, as some of these can be tenuous
when reviewed.
There are issues arising from the creative mood. Owing to the
enhanced ability to make links among the data, and between data and
theory, writing during this state of mind can result in an apparent dim-
inution or even loss of focus on the research topic. Consequently, there
is then the requirement to proofread this writing when my mood enters
the conscious phase. There is a difference between over focused thesis
writing and incorrect thesis content. An over focus results in additional
information being written into the thesis that has a tenuous relationship
to the research topic. This practice can lead to accusations of ‘padding’
the thesis to increase the amount of text or the creation of irrelevant
content that may confuse the reader.
It can be angering when a draft of a chapter is returned with sentences

and paragraphs crossed out and the comment ‘Waffle’ written in the mar-
gin. My immediate and emotive response is anger at the affront to my
ability to analyse and write. However, having put the annotated draft to
one side to be dealt with later, I find that the indignation is replaced by
the realisation that my supervisor is correct. After this happened, I would
leave the proofed chapter until my mood was once again in the conscious
state of mind where everything is seen through an objective lens and the
irrational reaction has calmed.
Recognition of Depression and Self-Help

With the prevalence of depression in Australian society, there has been
a recent surge in the research on the requirement for early recognition
(McCabe, Karantzas, Mrkic, Mellor, & Davison, 2012). The ability to
recognise depression symptoms is informed by the individual’s engage-
ment with sources of information as the media, experience with depres-
sion in others and formal professional development training courses
404
R. Templeton
(Trudgen & Lawn, 2011). However, there is the potential for individuals
to be unaware of the appropriate course of action when depression is rec-
ognised. A family member who suffered an emotional breakdown from
anxieties was treated by a medical practitioner. This person’s work col-
leagues were unaware of the situation owing to ‘passing’ (Werth, 2013).
The literature on self-help indicates that a low proportion of stu-
dents affected by depression actually seek external help. One of the fac-
tors associated with this low self-help response is that of stigmatisation
of the individual. Stigmatising beliefs are more prevalent in younger
Australian males who had a lower level of education and who were
born outside Australia (Reavley & Jorm, 2010; Reavley et al., 2012b).
In addition to low mental health literacy and stigmatising attitudes,
other factors for not seeking help include family support structures,
educational institutions, and community and health system structures
(Reavley & Jorm, 2010).
My own experiences of help-seeking are variable. The reactions of the

people in whom you confide concerning your depression vary dependent
on the interrelationship. The response of institutes of higher education is
to offer support via counselling services. Having experienced the effects
of depression prior to admission to higher education, support for these
symptoms was achieved with the help of my immediate family and my
family doctor. However, as I age, the stresses and anxieties of work and
study do seem to diminish so that the onset of depression is becoming
infrequent and easier to manage.
Conclusion
For some people, depression is a disability that can and does become a per-
manent issue in their daily lives. Behavioural aspects include frustration,
anger and loneliness, all of which may afflict our daily interactions. These
interactions include our studies, where depression causes motivational
issues and lower grades. Other afflictions are anxiety, anger and frustra-
tion within our employment space, and loneliness in the community in
which we live through to society in general. Those of us who experience
405
depression can become socially withdrawn owing to perceived anxieties.

These can and do affect relationships with other people at home, in the
workplace and in the social sphere. Our achievement of tasks also deterio-
rates with the onset of depressive episodes.
As students, these effects can be alleviated by adjusting our activ-
ities to suit our cognitive, motivational and social symptom moods
that prevail at any given time. My experience shows that it is possible
to undertake and complete higher research degree study with or with-
out a strategic withdrawal to regroup in relation to mental health issues.
This can be achieved with the support of family members and friends
to counter the effects of stigmatisation. Completion can also be aided
by seeking help from health professionals either privately or by utilising
the counselling services available in most Australian universities. One of
the better forms of recognition and support is the contemporary social
phrase “R U OK?” (ABC News, 2011). Asked in a respectful and pri-
vate manner, this question conveys to the student the recognition and
concern of the questioner to the student’s situation.
My personal strategies to alleviate the issues caused by depression epi-
sodes involve progressing the doctorate regardless of mood. Such tasks as
literature searches, cataloguing data and word-processing are undertaken
during all mood states. Thesis proofreading is best completed during the
neutral mood state as that is when I can focus with clarity and review
research arguments expressed during the brainstorming creative mood
state. In the creative mood, associations between data are easier to align
but, as some of these associations can be tenuous, they are better reviewed
during a neutral mood.
However, these moods are not necessarily independent of one other, so
that there is a need to refocus on the thesis and the research findings and
conclusions during periods where I can review previous work with clar-
ity, and present my arguments with validity and conviction of thought.
I do record my thoughts and cognitions of the research problem as they
occur, and regardless of mood, for later review and clarification, and in
association with the empirical and literature data to allow correct refer-
encing. Depression is not a reason for not attempting a doctorate, but it is
an emotional condition that affects our lives and aspirations.
406
R. Templeton
With mental health organisations active within our society, the problems
of recognition and help referral may reduce the number of students who
attempt to ‘go it alone’. I doubt if I would have submitted my doctoral
thesis without the support of family members, friends and my supportive
academic supervisor. These strategies can be achieved with educational pro-
grammes targeted at all levels of society and employment. Depression is not
confined to particular occupations, learning modes, or personal situations
and beliefs, but instead occurs across population groups.
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23
Exploring the Transition Between
Doctoral Student and Early
Career Academic: A New Perspective
on Activity Systems
Kevin Larkin
Introduction
The impetus for this chapter is the desire to place a metaphorical ‘full
stop’ in one important component of my academic life. It comprises a
personal reflection that articulates perspectives of my Research Higher
Degree (RHD) journey, with a particular focus on the transition from
part-time doctoral student to Early Career Academic (ECA). I use
Activity Systems to explore both the journey and this transitional event.
The chapter proposes, via the experiences of one doctoral student (the
author), that the resolution of tensions and contradictions of two activ-
ity systems in which the author was the primary Subject resulted in
full membership of a third system (a university Community of Practice
[CoP]). This chapter is the final act in a series of academic enterprises
regarding the doctoral journey, and uses Activity System models created
in a previous publication (Larkin, 2009). The chapter, which concludes
K. Larkin (*)
Griffith University, Brisbane, QLD, Australia
e-mail: k.larkin@griffith.edu.au
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8_23
410
K. Larkin
the story of my doctoral journey, reflects upon the completion of this

journey and upon my transition into an ECA. It questions whether
Activity Systems, proposed in Larkin (2009) as a useful analytical tool,
are sufficient to analyse and evaluate the range and qualities of the expe-
riences that the transition from doctoral student to ECA constitutes
for individuals. I argue that a complementary perspective is required
that affords an explanation of the elements of a particular RHD jour-
ney whilst accounting for the role of individual agency in mediating the
influence of largely systemic elements. The chapter also explores how I
resolved generic, yet at the same time personal, tensions (e.g., workload
allocation models and research targets), and suggests that a modified
Activity System is a theoretical approach that can be used to uncover
and resolve the practices inherent in many doctoral traverses in terms of
rules for completion, supervision arrangements and the like.
My RHD story is similar to the RHD journey of many others
involved in university teacher education. Previous to commencing work
as a full-time academic, I spent 30 years in various roles in primary
education (e.g., teacher, deputy principal and consultant). During this
time, I completed two Masters Degrees and more recently a Doctorate
of Education, worked as a casual university tutor and published a num-
ber of book chapters. In these ways, over the course of the doctoral
journey, I engaged in at least five distinct roles (tutor, deputy princi-
pal, doctoral student, researcher and author) across a number of inter-
connected systems (university and school being prevalent), in which my
standing was different and my intentions were directed to diverse pur-
poses (Beauchamp, Jazvac-Martek, & McAlpine, 2009).
Brown, Finger and Reeves (2007) depicted the educational journey of
an RHD student as occurring in a CoP in which “participants assist each
other to become full participants in the research culture of the commu-
nity” (p. 8). This perspective promotes a socio-cultural view of knowing
as being “activity by specific people in specific circumstances” (Brown,
et al., 2007, p. 52). What is not clear in the above proposition is the
degree to which the experience of a CoP hinges on the varying levels of
workplace affordances (Billett, 2006) offered by the community, and the
appropriation of these experiences by individuals within the community
(Deem & Brehony, 2000). For instance, despite the context remaining
23 Exploring the Transition Between Doctoral Student …
411
fundamentally consistent, my current experience of a university CoP as

an ECA is substantially different from my previous experiences of
a university CoP as a part-time student, casual tutor, deputy prin-
cipal and author. In this chapter, I explore a range of Activity
Systems and investigate the influence of individual identity, workplace
affordances and the role of individual agency in such systems and, in so
doing, I account for how I dealt with a range of potential pitfalls evident in
many doctoral journeys.
Activity Theory: A Brief Synopsis

Activity Theory is a body of theory and research initiated in the 1920s
and 1930s by Lev Vygotsky and Alexie Leont’ev, the founders of the
cultural-historical school of Russian psychology (Engeström, Miettinen,
& Punamaki, 1999). Activity Theory is an approach that aims to under-
stand individual human beings in their natural, daily circumstances.
This understanding occurs through an analysis of the genesis, structure
and processes of their activities. In defining Activity, Vygotsky (1978)
emphasised the individual; Leont’ev (1981) emphasised the individ-
ual in activity; and, in more recent times, Engeström (1987) advocated
a version of Activity Theory that emphasises the individual within an
Activity System. Regardless of the emphasis, human activity is always
oriented to the achievement of goals and motives (Nardi, 1996), and
in this sense activity implies an action conducted in order to transform
some object (Engeström, 1999). Activity is understood as a purposeful
interaction of the subject with the world, a process in which mutual
transformations between the poles of ‘subject–object’, via the use of
tools, are accomplished (Kaptelinin & Nardi, 2006; Martek, 2008).
Engeström (1987) reconceptualised the primary Activity Theory
heuristic from the initial three-element (subject-tools-object)
triangle (Leont’ev, 1981) into a six-element model that has become
an analytical tool used in a wide range of educational research
(e.g., Latheef & Romeo, 2010; Stevenson, 2004; Sweeney, 2010;
Zevenbergen & Lerman, 2007). The six elements of Engeström’s model
are Object, Subject, Instruments (or tools—both mental and physical),
412
K. Larkin
Rules, Community and Division of Labour (Sharpe, 2003). Engeström’s

(1987) framework provides a schematic for the structure of activity that
can then be used to examine the various socio-cultural elements that
impact upon the relationship between the subject and the community.
An important consideration in the use of Activity Systems is an
understanding of tool use. Many research projects utilising Activity
Systems focus on tools as primarily physical objects (Gordon, 2006;
Zevenbergen & Lerman, 2007). In my use of Activity Systems, tool
use refers primarily to mental models. Whilst not negating the use of
powerful tools (e.g., laptops, online environments and databases), my
conceptualisation of tool use relates more closely to that of Vygotsky
(1978), who conceived of tools as including language, semiotics, signs
and symbols (Martek, 2008). In this sense, academic credentials, pub-
lications and conference presentations are examples of the mental tools
that I use to mediate the relationship between Subject (myself ) and
various Objects (completion of Doctor of Education degree, academic
career, contributor to research culture) in the attainment of the over-
all Motive/Goal of the three systems in which I am Subject—namely,
knowledge generation and social transformation.
In an Activity System, the mechanism for growth and development
for individuals and the community is the resolution of tensions and
contradictions resulting in transformations and expansions within the
system (Sweeney, 2010). According to Kuutti (1996), a contradiction
is a misfit within elements, between elements, between different activ-
ities or between different developmental phases of a single activity.
Contradictions exist when external influences change elements of activi-
ties, causing imbalances between them (e.g., in my context, an emphasis
on research output and at the same striving to demonstrate excellence in
higher education teaching). Consequently, Activity Systems are almost
always in flux as they work through contradictions that manifest them-
selves as problems, ruptures, breakdowns or clashes (Scanlon & Issroff,
2005). Activity Systems are a powerful tool for identifying tensions;
locating them in the system; determining their sources; and generating
a basis for expansive transformation. Furthermore, the modified Activity
System used here is a novel, highly effective framework for highlight-
ing, and then resolving, the hurdles inherent in a doctoral journey. The
413
transition from part-time student to ECA (conceived in this chapter as

a journey that is traversed by doctoral candidates), is initially examined
from an Activity Systems perspective. Prior to examining this transition,
it is necessary to summarise earlier elements of the doctoral journey as
the transition from doctoral student to ECA has resulted in the resolu-
tion of many of the tensions identified in these preceding systems.
Tracing the RHD Journey: A Systemic Perspective

In an earlier publication (Larkin, 2009), I presented initial perspectives
of my journey via the use of three interconnected Activity Sub-Systems:
System One—Attainment of Doctoral Qualification (see Fig. 23.1);
System Two—Academic Career Trajectory (see Fig. 23.2); and System
Three—EPS (Gold Coast) Research Community (Fig. 23.3). Each of
these Activity Systems had specific objects that were sometimes con-
gruent with, and at other times divergent from, the overall Motive(s)/
Goal(s) of the university’s Activity System. Although I identify particu-
lar tensions in my journey, it is likely that many of these tensions are
also evident for other doctoral students as they relate to structural ele-
ments such as the confirmation of candidature seminar, ethical clear-
ance, thesis writing, etc. Indeed, it is the more universal presence of
many of these tensions that necessitated a more central position for the
individual Subject in the Activity System proposed later in this chapter.
System One (Fig. 23.1) had as its object the attainment of a doc-
toral qualification, and was characterised by clearly defined Rules and
Division of Labour. The rules for thesis completion, such as length,
duration of study and confirmation of candidature requirements, were
clearly set out in numerous university documents regularly communi-
cated to me. Likewise, guidelines regarding the roles and responsibilities
of students and supervisors were clearly described. Sources of tensions
in this system primarily reflect the relationship between student and
supervisor(s), including: differences of theoretical perspectives; varying
expectations in relation to publishing during the doctoral programme;
coursework related issues; and variations in confirmation of candidature
414
K. Larkin
Fig. 23.1 System one (attainment of EdD) (Larkin, 2009, p. 56)
Fig. 23.2 System two (academic career) (Larkin, 2009, p. 57)

415
Fig. 23.3 System three (EPS—Gold Coast) (Larkin, 2009, p. 59)
and thesis expectations across different disciplines. They also included

the tension between my responsibilities as a full-time deputy principal
and the time required to complete the doctoral programme successfully.
The successful attainment of the Object of System One would ‘label me’
as Dr. Larkin.
System One intersected with System Two in relation to the systemic
element of ‘tool use’. In my particular instance, the doctoral qualification
gained as the object of System One became a tool in attaining the imme-
diate object of System Two—an academic position. The motive/goal
of System Two (Fig. 23.2) was an academic position, and was the most
complex of the three systems of which I was Subject. I was positioned in
System Two in a range of ways—RHD student, casual academic tutor,
school-based educator, author, colleague, presenter, deputy principal and
competitor. The negotiation of these positionings was the critical com-
ponent of my RHD journey, and the resolution of many of the tensions
evident in this system was the key transformative event of this journey.
Whilst System One was characterised by clearly defined Division of
Labour and Rules, System Two was more loosely constructed. This loose
construction resulted in various tensions and contradictions. In terms
416
K. Larkin
of Division of Labour, I was solely responsible for activities within this

system to attain an academic position. There was no clearly delineated
set of rules that governed how to achieve my object, nor were there
any university requirements that I proceed in ‘academia’ (McAlpine &
Norton, 2006). Tensions here related very closely to my struggle for
identity and agency: Who was I in the system? How would and could
I position myself? How could I exercise agency in attaining my Object?
What affordances would or would not be offered to me to enable my
transition? What was my role within the broader university CoP?
Both System One and System Two became integrated with System
Three (School of EPS—Gold Coast) at the systemic element of the
Subject, and provided the overarching socio-cultural context that
shaped, and was shaped by, my activity in Systems One and Two. The
creation and transformation of knowledge were the motive of System
Three (Fig. 23.3). Tensions within this system, as was the case in System
Two, revolved primarily around Rules and Divisions of Labour, but
with different emphasis (Deem & Brehony, 2000). Whilst tensions were
evident in relation to Rules, the EPS tensions were by and large sim-
ilar to those tensions that affect many Australian universities, includ-
ing Excellence in Research for Australia (ERA), government funding
arrangements, industrial awards, publishing criteria, community service
and the like. Personal tensions were evident here to a minor degree in
relation to the shifting boundaries of membership.
Figures 23.1–23.3 demonstrated the various tensions evident in my
transition from doctoral student to an ECA. The Object of System
One was the completion of a Doctor of Education degree, whilst the
Object of System Two was the attainment of an academic position.
Both of these Objects have been attained. I am now “Dr. Larkin”, and
I have commenced work as an ECA. Whilst the overall motives of the
systems are still present—social transformation and lifelong learning—
Systems One and Two are now redundant as I now operate solely in
System Three, a university CoP (albeit a different CoP from the one dis-
cussed previously). The attainment of the Objects of Systems One and
Two has significantly reduced the tensions evident in my professional
life. My current work activities (lecturing, research, community engage-
ment) are all directly related to the object of System Three—creation
417
and transformation of knowledge. I am now a full member of System

Three, and my personal Object is closely aligned with the Object of the
CoP in the attainment of a shared Motive/Goal.
As a means of illustrating the difference between my experience of
a CoP as a part-time doctoral student and the experience of a highly
similar CoP as an ECA, comparisons are drawn between my prepara-
tion for an Australian Association for Research in Education (AARE)
symposium paper as a doctoral student and a University of Southern
Queensland (USQ) symposium paper (and later this chapter) as an
ECA. Table 23.1 presents, in summary form, examples of the tensions
evident in preparing and writing the two papers. These tensions are
explored further below.
The writing of the paper for the initial AARE symposium, as a doc-
toral student, was an example of what Max (2010) described as a
‘boundary crossing tool’. The paper was an artefact, which was integral
to two distinct systems, yet resulted in different tensions and contradic-
tions, dependent on the Object of the particular, individual system. For
example, the paper contributed directly to the Object of System Three—
the creation of knowledge—but in many ways was counter-productive
to the Object of System One—the completion of the thesis. By contrast,
the writing of the USQ symposium paper as an ECA was consistent
with the Object of the university CoP—namely, the creation and trans-
formation of knowledge. Reflecting upon the experience of preparing
and presenting the AARE symposium paper, and upon my RHD jour-
ney overall, in comparison with writing this book chapter as an ECA, it
is clear that the key tensions and contradictions in the initial paper were
those that mediated my individual experience of the university CoP in
terms of fluctuating levels of ‘membership’. The AARE symposium paper
was written as a doctoral student in the midst of a variety of member-
ship identities—part-time doctoral student, deputy principal, university
tutor—all of which were identities on the outskirts of the university CoP.
By contrast, the USQ symposium paper, and this chapter, were writ-
ten as an ECA in the context of full membership of a CoP with encour-
agement to write the paper and book chapter and to publish. This full
membership significantly reduces the tensions inherent in the activity.
There is no pressure to be completing my thesis or to arrange for time
Table 23.1 Doctoral student vs. ECA symposium presentations: An example of an act of transversal within activity systems
Activity system AARE symposium USQ symposium | Book chapter
System one—Doctor of Deputy principal vs. Student (absence/distraction from System One—Doctor of Education
Education primary employment is always underlying tension) resolved—The object of the sys-
418
Doctoral student vs. Future academic (presentation of tem—Completion of the thesis has
paper not central to System One Object) been attained
Positive Motive/goal of both systems—Social
K. Larkin
– Further develop understanding of AT and AS (thesis transformation, lifelong learning,

conceptual framework) career trajectory and lifestyle choice
– Enhances relationship between Supervisor/student remain consistent
Negative—Detracts from doctoral tasks (e.g., confirma- System Two—Academic career—
tion of candidature seminar) Resolved—The object of the system—
System two—academic Deputy principal vs. Potential academic (absence/distrac- Appointment as university lecturer has
career tion from primary employment is always underlying been attained
tension)
No tension as presentation of paper directly related to
System Two Object
Enhances relationship between supervisor/student
System three— Deputy principal vs. University membership (absence/ Presentation congruent with primary
university—Community distraction from primary employment is always under- conditions of employment. Tensions,
of practice lying tension) as they exist with other responsibilities
Presentation of paper directly related to System Three (teaching/service), are intra-, not inter-,
Object employment
Tension returns re (partial/temporary) membership of Full membership of university academic
university community community
Invitation to be part of a university community No need for negotiation of roles and
Supervisor/student relationship re-negotiated relationships with supervisor(s)
Activity is congruent with overarching
personal goals and motives and with
the goals of the university
419
off from my full-time employment to present at the symposium; or to

negotiate roles and responsibilities with my supervisor; or to compete
with other doctoral students for publishing opportunities to improve
my chances for an academic appointment. What tensions do exist, such
as finding time to write whilst teaching, are minor in comparison, and
are accounted for in my workload allocation. The writing of the ECA
symposium paper was a comfortable task owing to the consolidation of
the three disparate systems into one. There is a significant reduction in
the negotiation of roles as an ECA, and thus an accompanying reduc-
tion in the tensions and contradictions that I needed to resolve. As a
footnote to this discussion, it is important to note at this juncture that
this resolution of tension was a consequence of my achievement of the
Object of System One (attaining doctorate) and System Two (attain-
ing employment), and not the cause of my move to academia. Personal
transformation has occurred as a result of my activity within these two
systems to attain the Objects of these systems.
Is a Systemic Perspective Enough to Tell the Story?
The use of Activity Systems has provided an account of how the var-
ious systemic elements are inter-related, and of how the resolution of
the tensions has occurred as a result of my transition into academic
life. Although mentioned briefly, what is still absent from an Activity
Systems account of my journey and transition is a clear picture of what
makes my journey unique. Tyler and Danaher (2010) suggested that,
although all students on doctoral journeys “land on the same islands
and arrive at the same destination”, the pathways taken on the jour-
ney are not set, and therefore the need exists “to consider each student’s
journey on a case-by-case and highly situated basis” (p. 11). The lack of
individual consideration is a partial consequence of the lack of empha-
sis on the Subject in Activity System conceptualisations. This omis-
sion is recognised by various authors in their critique of Engeström’s
Activity Systems (see, for instance, Billett, 2003, 2006; Daniels, 2008;
Valsiner & Van Der Meer, 2000; Wheelahan, 2004). These authors
believe that, in attempting to explicate the influence of the system on
420
K. Larkin
the individual, the individual has in fact become ‘over socialised’ and
become depicted as merely a representation of the society in which
she or he lives. Tolman (1999) assumed a more extreme position, and
argued that Activity Systems posit the individual as “society’s gift where
the individual is society manifested in a single organism” (p. 82). I
argue that, to account for my individual journey within the Activity
Systems that I have depicted, an accounting of my active agency, and
also of the influence of particular workplace affordances (Billett, 2006),
is critical in understanding the particular contours of my doctoral trav-
erse. Furthermore, if Activity Systems are to be a useful framework for
uncovering and examining the doctoral traverse, then an account that
incorporates the agentic action of a range of individuals is required.
Difference at Individual Level: Active Subjects

One mechanism to account for my individual agentic action is
Membership Categorisation (Baker, 1997). Membership Categorisation
theorises the role of active subjects and active subjectivities, and suggests
that individual Subjects create identities by choosing from a range of
roles according to the particular contexts in which they find themselves.
Consequently, identities are chosen but, at the same time, also shaped
by particular socio-cultural contexts. How people describe themselves,
and how they reason about their actions, are pragmatic selections from
a range of possible category identifications; individuals may identify
as ‘author’ or ‘teacher’ or ‘researcher’, and then describe their activity
based on such identifications. Each description may be a correct iden-
tifier of the same person; however, the selection made calls on very dif-
ferent domains of knowledge and reason (Baker, 1997; Martek, 2008).
Identity selection is closely related to participation in a CoP. The kinds
of activities in which individuals engage in throughout their lives, and
how they elect to engage with these tasks, are bases by which individuals
actively engage in, and gain a sense of, the social experience. According
to Valsiner and Van der Veer (2000), owing to the uniqueness of each
person’s pre-mediate experience, the ways in which individuals engage
with what they encounter is unique. An individual’s identities shape the
421
agentic action that constitutes the self. Furthermore, “as an individual’s

ontogenies and ontogenetic development are unique, any one person’s
prior experience is not and cannot be the same as others as it is indi-
vidually negotiated through a lifetime of interactions with the social
world” (Billett, 2006, p. 67). Therefore, even though the social context
may be similar for all members of a CoP, the positioning of each indi-
vidual within it is distinctive. The interpretation of the social practices
within a CoP, and the individual’s engagement with this practice, will
always be unique owing in large part to her or his personal work his-
tory. Consequently, my experience of the journey from doctoral student
to academic, whilst similar in many respects to the experience of other
doctoral candidates, is also a unique journey; it is person-dependent
(Tyler & Danaher, 2010).
Difference at Social Level: Workplace

Affordances
In identifying my agentic action in the selection of a range of identi-
ties to achieve my Object, it is possible to minimise inadvertently the
impact of workplace affordances on this selection. Briefly stated, work-
place affordances are “the kinds of activities that individuals are offered
(afforded) as a result of the product of workplaces’ micro-social pro-
cesses, that is, the exercise of the norms and practices” (Billett, 2006, p.
60). Academic affordances include allocations of office space and sec-
retarial support, publishing opportunities or the distribution of limited
tutoring or contract positions (Deem & Brehony, 2000). As workplaces
are shaped by hierarchies of control, official and non-official groups,
personal relationships and cultural practices, the distribution of such
affordances reflects political and power relationships (Billett, 2006),
and impacts differently on individuals across place, space and time.
Workplace affordances are dynamic, and are subject to constant change
in terms of tasks, goals, interactions, participants and relations.
In relation to my academic journey, the inter-psychological pro-
cesses (Vygotsky, 1978) noted in relation to Active Subjectivities and
422
K. Larkin
Workplace Affordances negated a concept of a fixed cognitive legacy in

terms of a CoP and instead indicated that my personal and academic
transformation was a negotiated, intrapersonal enterprise. From an
Activity Systems perspective, the tensions in my systems that required
negotiation were not, by definition, negative as they provided the impe-
tus for personal expansion and transformation.
Conclusion: The Need for a Relational Approach
I have indicated in this chapter that, whilst Activity Systems are useful
for identifying the macro elements of a doctoral journey—Rules (e.g.,
submission dates), Division of Labour (e.g., role of supervisors) or Tools
(e.g., doctoral qualification), a counter argument exists that suggests
that it is my agentic action in response to workplace affordances that is
the determining characteristic of a doctoral journey. This chapter sug-
gests a synthesis of these alternate perspectives. In my view, arguments
that debate the exact nature of the individual—social dichotomy are
useful from ontological and epistemological standpoints, but are not
particularly helpful in articulating an individual, practical context. As
Valsiner and Van der Veer (2000) emphasised, the distinction between
natural (individual) and cultural (social) development is a conceptual,
theoretical one, and in actual practice the two lines can hardly be dis-
tinguished. What is more important is a means to depict individu-
als as being social, whilst not stripping them of individual autonomy
as members of such groups. In this instance, this question asks, “How
was I agentic in determining my particular path through the Activity
System(s) of which I was part, and how can I determine a course of
action as an ECA?”.
My contribution towards this synthesis is presented by way of a pre-
liminary model that positions the subject centrally in a socio-cultural
context. It thus indicates that individual agency is an integral factor
in determining the influence of systemic elements on an individu-
al’s attainment of Objects/Motives/Goals. This model combines an
Activity Systems approach, which affords powerful examination of the
structural elements of my journey, i.e., Tools, Community, Division
423
of Labour and Rules, with the more ontogentic approach afforded by

the use of Active Subjectivities and Workplace affordances that empha-
sise personal, individual, agentic action in mediating my experience of
these systemic elements. It suggests that the relationship between the
individual and the social world should be considered along relational
rather than dialectical lines (Billett, 2006; Penuel & Wertsch, 1995)
(Fig. 23.4).
The reconceptualisation of the traditional Activity System model to
become a pentagonal structure, with the subject enmeshed centrally
with each of the other five elements, suggests that all doctoral students
interact with the elements of the CoP Activity System systems in unique
ways. Furthermore, this uniqueness arises from my significant agentic
action in selecting from a range of available identities, and also from the
distinct and individual pathway that constitutes my individual ontog-
eny (Billett, 2006). The recognition that subjects can be active in the
Fig. 23.4 Emphasising the active subject in a university CoP activity system
424
K. Larkin
pursuit of their goals mitigates the potential over-socialisation of the

individual that can occur with a traditional Activity System approach
(Daniels, 2008; Wheelahan, 2004). This recognition also broadens the
usefulness of this model as it can be used by other doctoral students to
identify and address the particular tensions evident in their journeys.
Without an understanding that individuals make personal choices based
on their ontogeny, the Subject in a system can become merely a rep-
resentation of a conglomerate of Subjects; in other words, they become
a generic “doctoral student”, rather than an individual “Active Subject”
operating within a university CoP. The emphasis on the individual in
the system helps to minimise the risk of privileging situational accounts
of activity (situated or distributed cognition [Angeli, 2008; Nardi,
1996], Activity Systems [Engestrom, 1987] or Communities of Practice
[Wenger, 1998]) that diminish “considerations of individual agency and
broader social and cultural influences” (Billet, 2006, p. 11). The depic-
tion of individual Subjects, as central to the Activity System of which
they are a part, suggests that individuals are more than the product of
socio-cultural contexts, but rather have an enhanced capacity to trans-
form the system by their individual agentic action. The understanding
of agentic action being presented here does not position the individual
in opposition to the social, but rather emphasises that the pre-mediate
and immediate experiences of individuals directly shape the social envi-
ronment in which they are Subjects.
In concluding this analysis of my traverse from doctoral student to
ECA, I propose that an Activity Systems approach is an appropriate
theoretical construct for an initial and generic exploration of the inter-
connected elements of such a journey, particularly in relation to Rules,
Division of Labour and Community. Furthermore, I suggest that this
model can be used by other doctoral students as a means of identify-
ing and resolving tensions in their own academic context to understand
better their own, individual journeys. Activity Systems are a means of
articulating the socio-cultural context of an academic CoP, and how
an individual interacts within this context to attain a range of Objects/
Motives/Goals. This approach is useful in highlighting that the res-
olution of tensions within these systems provides opportunities for
425
individual and communal transformation. More crucially, the chapter

has identified that an Activity System approach alone does not clearly
identify or communicate the individual subjectivities that are present in
each unique RHD journey, and in the experience of a university CoP.
The proposed modified model, whilst remaining coherent with
Activity Systems, at the same time illustrates that the individual agentic
action of Subjects in their daily interactions within a university Activity
System is critical in the attainment of personal goals. In doing so, the
individual is positioned as the central element in the Activity System,
thus recognising the role that individuals play in shaping the socio-cul-
tural contexts in which they form their academic identity. Therefore,
when combined with the notion of Active Subjects traversing their own,
intimate, journeys, Activity Systems are a robust conceptual tool in
helping individuals to understand this traversal. Contrary to other well-
known but inaccurate uses of the phrase “Mission Accomplished”, for
me the phrase indicates a successful traverse from commencing doctoral
student to full-time academic.
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Index
A case study 14, 94, 146, 147, 151,

Active Subjectivities 420, 422–423 158, 203, 218
Activity Theory 411 co-authoring 189
anchor 194, 222, 228, 288, 299 collaborative autoethnography 36,
apprenticeship 103, 186, 340 146, 148
athletes 182, 189 communities of practice (CoPs) 7–8,
authorship 189 42, 68–69, 151, 168–169,
autoethnography 35–36, 151, 255– 173–174, 218–220, 228–232,
256, 258, 323, 383–384, 398 234, 237–248, 321, 331,
409–411, 416–425
completion 4, 14, 33–34, 43, 54,
B 57, 59–61, 64, 66, 69–71, 77,
behaviours 272, 274, 307, 356, 358, 95–96, 105, 116, 118, 127,
367, 396–398, 401–402 145, 166–167, 193, 201, 206,
benign neglect 304, 309, 311, 313–314 211, 213, 272, 295, 303–306,
bingeing 181, 189 308, 314–315, 336, 340, 342,
345, 355–359, 361, 364–368,
372, 385, 394, 405, 410,
C 412–413, 416–418
career development 76, 82, 135
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license 429
to Springer Nature Switzerland AG, part of Springer Nature 2019
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-23731-8
430 Index
completion rates 33, 58, 60, 211, 320, 341–342, 347–348, 350,
308, 339 385, 387–388, 409–411, 413,
confirmation of candidature (CoC) 419, 422
6, 14, 29–31, 33, 35–42, doctoral studies 15–16, 61, 77–78,
45–46, 48–49, 52–55, 97, 118, 126, 129, 242, 257, 264,
102–106, 276, 279, 320, 358, 308, 312, 326, 336, 361, 365
363, 367 doctoral supervision 2, 7–8, 17–20,
contingency of assistance 254–255, 115–116, 116, 118–120, 124,
258 128, 132, 134, 143–149,
corporate university 199, 212 152–154, 156–158, 165–166,
critical incident analysis 320, 172, 197, 253–254, 256, 267,
357–358 304–305, 307–308, 314–315
critical reflection 6, 53, 101, 148, doctorate/doctorates 1, 3, 5, 9–10,
218, 220, 232, 270, 273, 281, 13, 70, 91, 104, 109, 115–
320, 357–358, 367 116, 118, 166, 168–169, 173,
175–176, 185, 194, 198–200,
202, 213, 229, 239, 259, 274,
D 277, 280–281, 288–289,
depression 7, 272, 320–321, 333, 291–292, 298, 300, 303,
393–396, 398–400, 402–406 306, 310, 313–315, 319–320,
dialogic event 323 339, 371–373, 378, 385–386,
digital competences 6, 13–15, 388–389, 399, 405, 419
17–18, 20, 22, 25 Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D.) 19,
digital platforms 16 22, 24, 30, 33–34, 40, 59, 62–
dispositions 307 63, 67, 75–78, 81–84, 94–95,
doctoral attrition 60, 65, 356 101, 104–107, 109, 128, 144,
doctoral candidature 274 149, 154–155, 159, 166–171,
doctoral completion 129, 304, 308, 173–175, 179, 183–188,
313–314 190–191, 201–202, 217–218,
doctoral education 3–4, 67, 76, 83, 222–223, 227–230, 233,
115, 117–118, 120–121, 130, 271–274, 276–277, 279–281,
134–135, 306, 310 287, 300, 309, 312, 339–349,
doctoral journey 6, 9, 29, 34, 116, 356, 358–359, 361–368, 376
127, 129–130, 134, 152, 154,
156–157, 168–169, 171, 193–
195, 197–199, 212, 237–238, E
240, 248, 267, 270, 276–277, e-research 16, 19
281, 290–291, 294, 300, 312, expert performance 189
Index 431
G L
graduate student well-being 269 lived experience 203, 226, 340, 398
H M
Higher Degree by Research (HDR) managerialism 2, 199
29–31, 33–35, 40, 54, 149 meetings 23, 59, 93, 168, 170, 173,
honorary 189 185–186, 189, 195, 203, 222,
240–243, 245, 247, 258–259,
262, 266, 275–276, 278, 280,
I 288, 305, 310–311, 330, 345,
identity theory 166–167, 175 360–361
information and communication mental health 269, 272, 395, 397,
technologies (ICTs) 6, 13, 404–406
15–17, 19–20, 25, 289 metaphor 75–76, 166, 194, 254,
institutional logics 7, 14, 92 261, 265, 332, 334–335
instructional design 98–99, 103, methodological fusion 147–148, 159
107–108
N
J non-completions 60, 312, 314, 356,
journey 6, 9, 59, 62, 64–67, 394, 396, 399
69–71, 78, 118, 145, 151,
154–156, 166–167, 173,
175, 193, 198–199, 201–203, P
212–213, 217–218, 221, 223, peer-assisted learning (PAL) 371–
229, 232–233, 239, 246, 372, 377–378, 380, 385
248, 281, 288–289, 291, personal epistemology 373, 384, 386
295, 299–300, 325–326, 328, personal transformation 321, 419
330, 335, 340–350, 358, phenomenography 147, 156
364–365, 368, 372–374, 376, practice 2–4, 6, 16, 30, 34, 47, 49–
382–383, 385–389, 409–410, 50, 53–54, 60–61, 63–64, 68,
413, 416–417, 419–425 71, 83, 92–93, 101, 104–105,
118–120, 125–127, 133–135,
145, 147–148, 156, 158–159,
K 170, 182, 189, 203, 218–220,
knowledge economy 3–4, 7, 98, 223–234, 240–242, 274, 290,
198–200, 211–213, 220 300, 305, 308, 314–315, 324,
432 Index
328, 330, 342, 345, 357, 365, Q

371–372, 375–377, 379, 381, quality 9, 21, 25, 61–62, 64, 66,
383, 385, 388–389, 399, 403, 71, 95–97, 102, 104–106,
410, 421–422 115, 118, 126–127, 134–135,
practice-led research 218–220, 224, 144, 146, 158, 211, 238, 246,
226–228, 230, 232, 234 277–278, 303, 305, 315,
pre-doctoral population 76, 83 324–325, 340, 348–350, 356,
process 6, 8–9, 16–17, 21–22, 25, 359, 362–365, 367–368, 375,
29–31, 33–37, 39–45, 47, 394
49–54, 57–58, 60, 62, 64,
71, 77–78, 82–84, 94–95,
97–98, 105, 107, 115, 119, R
126, 128, 130–131, 133–135, reflective practice 66, 129, 306,
145, 150–151, 153, 157, 159, 357–358
170, 173–174, 179, 181, 184, reflexivity 151, 319, 323, 357, 372,
187, 190–191, 203, 211, 213, 383–384, 386, 398
218–220, 222, 225, 227, 230, research administrator 14, 29–30,
232, 237–238, 241, 243, 245– 36, 49, 52, 54, 58, 65, 144
248, 253–258, 260–266, 274, research collaboration 58, 67, 116
277, 288–289, 291, 296, 309, researcher development 68, 75, 77,
311, 315, 320, 323, 328, 331, 84, 120, 193
335–336, 339, 342–343, 347, research on supervision 120–122,
350, 356, 358–359, 362–364, 125, 132–133
366–368, 389, 397, 411 research training 2, 13, 33, 59, 67,
procrastination 116, 181, 185, 189, 70–71, 340
294, 348 review 6, 8, 13–14, 29–30, 36–37,
project 5, 14, 22, 24, 34–35, 37, 42, 46, 50, 53, 76, 78, 82–83,
39, 41–44, 53, 57, 60, 65, 105, 107, 115, 118–121, 135,
68–69, 71, 97, 102–106, 146, 145, 228, 238, 243–245, 291,
188, 191, 199–201, 211–213, 343, 356, 380, 385, 405
218–219, 222–227, 229–231,
233, 243, 248, 257, 259, 275,
277, 279, 309, 312, 319, 324, S
329, 341–345, 349–350, sail 194, 288–290, 295, 299
359–365, 367, 397, 412 scaffolding 254, 377
project management 6, 95, 108, 320, self-talk 185
340–342, 344, 346, 348–350 socialisation and induction 167
Index 433
social support 8, 269–271, 273–274, 362–368, 378, 385–386, 401,

276–278, 280–281, 364–365 406, 413, 418–419, 422
sociocultural theory 254 supervisory relationships 57, 59,
student behaviours 305 126–127, 130, 132, 152,
student leadership 373, 378 193–194, 198, 208, 212,
supervision 1–6, 8–9, 13, 16, 19–21, 218–219, 221, 227, 231–233,
25, 54, 67, 115–121, 123, 279, 313, 368
125–135, 144–148, 150, 152–
154, 157, 159, 166–175, 179,
185, 188, 193–195, 202–203, V
205, 211–213, 217–218, 230, Verbatim Theatre 219–220, 223, 230
233, 255, 257, 267, 297, 299, vicarious learning 244, 246
303–310, 313–315, 336, 339,
345, 356, 359, 362, 364–365,
368, 410 W
supervisor/supervisors 1–8, 16, 19– workplace affordances 410–411,
23, 25, 30, 33–34, 37, 41–42, 420–423
46, 48, 52–54, 58, 63–67, writing 3, 6, 8, 17, 19, 21, 29–30,
69, 77, 82, 102, 106–107, 34, 42, 44, 46–47, 50–51, 65,
115–116, 119, 122, 125–135, 67, 78, 106–107, 126–127,
143–149, 153–155, 157–159, 129, 145, 173–175, 179–191,
165–176, 185–186, 189–190, 203, 219, 228, 232, 246,
193, 197–204, 211–213, 218, 255–256, 258, 264, 288–290,
220–221, 223–224, 229, 232– 294, 296–297, 324–325, 329,
233, 243, 248, 253, 255, 257, 334–335, 346, 364, 378, 385,
259–260, 263–266, 274–276, 400, 403, 413, 417, 419
278–280, 287–300, 304–315, writing programme 183–184,
340, 344–345, 356, 359–360, 187–188, 190–191

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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN

EDUCATION RESEARCH METHODS

Traversing the Doctorate

More information about this series at

Patrick Alan Danaher

Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods

periods of work at other universities to obtain supervision and to access

Esbjerg, Denmark Christian Quvang

Christian Quvang, Associate Professor at the University College of Southern

• The contributing chapter authors who have shared their experiences

1 Traversing the Doctorate: Situating Scholarship

Part I Designing the Doctorate

2 Conceptual Review of Digital Competences

3 Confirmation of Candidature: An Autoethnographic

4 Communicating “Success” with Research Students:

5 A Picture of the Research Field of Doctoral

6 Engineering the Doctorate: Designing

Part II Supervising the Doctorate

7 Research on Doctoral Supervision:

8 Doctoral Supervision as a Relational Endeavour,

9 Shifting Players: Supervision Changes During

10 Writing Regularly as a Thesis-Completion Strategy

Part III Relationships in the Doctorate

11 Tiptoeing Around the Institution? Doctoral

12 Creating a Community of Practice

13 Looking for, Learning from and Finally Becoming

14 Supervising at a Distance: The Transformation

15 Experiencing the Journey Together: The Role

16 You’re My Anchor and My Sail: A Metaphor

17 The Effects of Unsupportive Supervision

Part IV Travelling Through the Doctorate

18 A Transforming Researcher: How Did I Get Here?

19 Staying on Track: A Targeted Approach to Managing

20 Strategies for Ph.D. Completion: A Critical

21 Traversing through Reversing: Using Doctoral

22 Depression, Doctorates and Self

23 Exploring the Transition Between Doctoral Student

Montserrat Castelló Badia is Full Professor in Educational Psychology

Dr. Maria Cerrato Lara is a Lecturer in Educational Psychology

Dr. Joanne Doyle has been an Honorary Research Associate with

and she has worked in a number of roles in both professional capacities.

Lecturer (Student Support and Development) and lastly Coordinator

and epistemic cognition of university students, Ph.D. students, teachers

Dr. Jessica Z. Marrington is a Senior Lecturer in the School of

professional practice has allowed her to pursue a research agenda and

Fig. 3.1 A student’s response to feedback from a confirmation panel 51

Table 5.1 Studies using questionnaires and scales measuring

some significant foci of that scholarship. This overview is followed by an

Situating the Scholarship and Identifying Its

this involves a learning alliance between multiple institutional agents

of knowledge through practice, and supports ethical social action”

with, and contribution to, literature derived from diverse disciplines

Structuring the Book and Maximising Its Rigour

1. Which different kinds of approaches are adopted to designing and imple-

(Chapter 2) insist that digital competences and the judicious use of

articulate the corresponding and sometimes very different experi-

In addition to these six organising questions helping to provide struc-

introduced and situated. Certainly, traversing the doctorate emerges

Stamou, A. (2017). Knowledge management in doctoral education toward

integration. Te chapter includes a set of digital competence resources

Introduction: ICT, University and Doctoral

• Increased digitalisation of the research process, usually with the

mediums (for example, with the development of digital journals,

amount of research, submission of a significant piece of writing, a public