Yesterday, a very good friend of mine handed in his masters thesis. Bar a few academic formalities to come in the next couple of months, he has finished an academic career of 17 years. We’ve trudged through the academic quagmire together since 1999. Congratulations, man, I proud of you and am sure that your post-academic life will be happy and fruitful!
A few of my other friends are still finishing up their theses. They are only going to hand in on the second opportunity, which means they’ll only graduate in March. After that, a class moves on, a generation vanishes, a remnant dies. Of the hopeful, wide-eyed first year B.Sc. (mathematical sciences) class of ’04 would be no more. I’ll still be here, as well as a couple of physicists and maybe a mathematician, but we’ll be the scatterlings of a remnant.
And that is a sad thought. For me, at least. The thought of remaining behind. Of not finishing In Time. It is not about finishing within the Expected Period: I’ve gotten over that “prestige” complex long ago. No, it is about losing that camaraderie. It’s no secret that I’m very sentimental and things like this get to me in one way or the other. But it is not only that: it’s the Desert Island Complex: being the one left at the station because he missed the bus.
So one has to ask: why? How did it happen that a third year is necessary for my M.Sc.? Like just about anything in life, there is no simple answer. But if a simple answer is to be given, it would be: that I worked part time in my first year. Worked two jobs part time, in fact. And that is a fair assessment: for two plus days a week for a whole year, I was tied up elsewhere. When I got home in the evening, I was too tired to work. So I had 3/5 of the time people who weren’t working had. (But, in reality, that was closer to 2/5.) But, leaving it at just that would be over-simplifying. Moving on a year later, I had learned my lesson and quit my job. I the scope of my work at the CS department was even reduced. But still I vasted unaccomplished this year. Why? I’ve come to the conclusion that it was because of inertia: mine, first and foremost, and others’ as well.
From my side I have not been very dedicated and committed to work. I bowed down to sloth and procrastination: “There’s always tomorrow.” Then strangely enough, I awoke one-day and found that I’d run out of tomorrows. That was quite a shock. Now I’m trying to make up for it. A year seems like a long time still for doing a lot of work in, but from experience I know now that it isn’t. Prayer, and sweat and tears spilt in silence is all that is going to help now.
But I am also willing to point the finger once it has passed by me. I can’t really blame others for my woes, but this year has been an expensive lesson in bureaucracy. For example: at the very end of last year I decided to make a survey for children who have Asperger Syndrome and their parents. I had a couple of reasons for doing this, which I’m not going to go into now. My supervisor loved the idea. Neither she nor I had done anything like this before, but dove right in with gusto. We spent months designing, re-designing and fine tuning that blasted survey. Finally we arrived at something adequate—something to almost be proud of, even. Next step was to get clearance from the university’s board of ethics. After a blunder on the first attempt, I submitted my request for clearance in July; I have yet to hear a single word on whether it was approved or not. A recent query was met with silence. And so I learned yet another little lesson: in academia, if you have to deal with someone whom you have never seen before and whom you don’t know, you are probably going to be either treated rudely or not at all. I hope this is not true for most other universities (or even for the whole of Stellenbosch), but I’ve had my fill of submissions and request.
Lastly: my supervisor keeps me one a fairly loose leash. This can be a Good Thing, but I’ve turned it into something bad. I usually don’t do new year’s resolutions, but one for 2010 is going to be to get her to keep me in line.
So, what conclusions can be drawn from examining the factors which have led up to my current predicament? A few pointers:
- Don’t dream big. This is going to be tempting when you start doing a masters (the word “thesis” is so grand, after all). But you aren’t going to change the world. Chances are, two years after you’ve finished, no-one except you will remember what you did and your work will effectively be lost. (If you really want to change the world, go join a “cause” on Facebook.)
- Don’t have ideas. Don’t make suggestions for improvements to your project to your supervisor: that is their job. Your job is to be the dumb, mute workhorse.
- Be annoying: badger people to whom you’ve made submissions and need feedback or other sort of answer into submission (and admission).
- Be accountable. If not to your supervisor, then to someone else. Nothing makes goofing off as easy as not having someone look over your shoulder. Big Brother is your friend.
- Have a clear plan according to which to work to. This is especially important for computer scientists. Formulating this plan might very well be more than doing the actual work, but it will guide your ship safely and timely into the harbour of graduation.
And I’ll throw in a couple of freebies as well. While doing your masters:
- Enjoy yourself. A time will come when you realise that you need to buckle down or throw in the towel. Then you’ll sweat and
- Diversify: get away from your subject matter and field. Or else you’ll end up hating it much sooner than is necessary and you’ll probably end up bitter and uninteresting to boot.
But all is not doom and gloom, boys and girls. I have been blessed to make a whole bunch of new friends at the church I am attending. I look forward to spending another year there and am eager to serve there. By no means do I think is staying in Stellenbosch for another year something which needs to be lamented. But it is always so nice to complain anyway, isn’t it?