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One of the things that we, who have gone through the PhD experience not too long ago, are always asked by PhD candidates is: "What happens in the viva?". One afternoon, just after Peter Monthienvichienchai passed his viva with only minor corrections, we were mulling over what our original expectations were and how they compared to what actually came to pass. We discovered that we both had dreams shortly before our big day, which encapsulated our worst fears of what could go wrong. Needless to say, these fears never became real but we do think that others out there may go through a similar process. Similarly, there are things that are common to all experiences: the nervousness, the tension, the eventual realisation that everything is going to work out fine since the viva is (should be) not a "grilling" but instead a fruitful and interactive discussion amongst peers.
Both of us, myself and Peter, are interested in the theory of learning. One theory suggests that people can learn from inspecting narratives of events. To this end, we have decided to make viva experiences available for you to read and learn from.
Thanks to everybody who has contributed so far. If you would like to contribute your own experiences, please send them to me. Anonymity (if needed) is ensured.
I had quite a few dreams about my viva, but none more disturbing than the one I had about a week before I submitted my thesis. In the dream, I turned up at the venue of my viva with everything prepared for. Thesis in hand, supervisor and examiners all present. The problem started when I realised that the venue has been changed to a café, reminiscent of a local Starbucks. Consequently, as soon as I entered the café, my supervisor was running around the place telling everyone to keep the noise down because a viva was in progress. I suspect that this is the result of years of seeing a multitude of signs on doors in the department saying, "Do not disturb. Viva in progress" and wishing that my day would come soon and, at the same time, wishing that it will never come. Anyway, as my supervisor got everyone to be quiet (no pressure there), I opened my thesis and found that Microsoft Word has played a cruel joke on me. There, in front of me, was my thesis, minus any body texts, just headers perfectly spaced as if the body texts were printed in invisible ink! Undaunted (although my partner told me that I emitted some disturbing noises in my sleep on this night), I said to the examiners, "No worries, I know what I had written." And so the viva started and all went well. Well, not quite, this is a dream/nightmare after all. The viva started and, as I looked up from my blank thesis, my external examiner morphed from the key person in my literature review (a man) into the second key person in my literature review (a woman!). "Damn, I wish I'd quoted more of your work" was all I could say before I woke to the silence of suburban London.
Luckily for me, the real viva went very well, with both the internal and external examiner being sympathetic to my research design and method. I did drink a lot of water to buy some time when I couldn't think of a good answer to their questions. In the end, I received minor corrections with suggestions to write a book on the topic of my thesis. No cafes, missing texts or a single morphing examiner in sight.
Not immediately before but within the same week of the viva I had the following dream: I turned up to my viva fully prepared, I had worked through my thesis using highlighter pens and post-it notes, I knew it inside out (as one should). The examiners settled in and began by asking a very simple question - how a very fundamental term is defined in my thesis and more generally. In my dream I got stuck, my mind went blank. I could picture the exact page where the term is defined, the colour of highlighting pen I used, everything. Except that I couldn't see what the words were saying. In my dream I panicked and couldn't utter a single word during the rest of the viva.
I'd turned up on the day of the viva very calm, thinking that whatever happens it can't be as bad as my dream. I had a mental list of thesis items that the examiners might grill me on and some appropriate, detailed responses. In my head, I also a list of possible more generic scenarios and how I would handle them (e.g. what if the examiner refers to a paper I haven't read? Say I am not familiar with it and ask whether/in which way it would be appropriate.). As time wore on I started to get more nervous; my partner who'd come along made me nervous so was sent on her way. My examiners turned up; I had never seen one of them so smartly dressed before. They began to discuss my thesis behind closed doors, then I was called in. That is when I started getting really sweaty hands. My examiners were kind enough to let me know that they believed my thesis was quite good, but they just wanted to have a chat about a few things. What followed seemed like half an hour of some very interactive discussion but actually took about 2 and a half hours. Yes, and one of the examiners referred to a paper I was not familiar with and the response to that scenarios was that he thought it wasn't directly relevant. Only one of my list of items came up and I had just discussed that point with another PhD student the day before (I think I more or less gave the same verbatim answer). I came out feeling very drained and not quite sure how I handled myself but my supervisor told I'd done fine. After being called back in, I was very happy to have no corrections. The rest of the day is quite a blur but I think it involved lots of phone calls to relatives, champagne and handshakes...
(submitted 10 Nov 2003)
The 'real' nightmare - no that's too strong, let's just call it an
inadvertent delay - began when the external examiner didn't arrive for 11am due to not being allowed to get on a train in the post-Hatfield
situation (not allowed on without a pre-booked ticket). She did get there, but we didn't start until 2.30pm. I didn't mind too
much, as I was really wound up in the morning - and I had to run back home for my notes, which in the event I never
looked at - and by the
afternoon I had unwound.
The thing itself went well, and (again - am I unusual ?) it was an enjoyable
experience rather than an ordeal. I knew that I knew the material and the background (how wouldn't you, having spent six months on
writing, re-writing, hunting down references, agonising over single phrases). I was quite surprised that the first question I was
asked was a reiteration of the first page of the Introduction, so I just said that, and we went on from there.
What I expected to happen was my examiners would bring up sidelines, passed-over
issues, read-between-the-lines, improperly thought out stuff, which I had long forgotten about or just let slip. But I knew the
weaknesses in it, and these didn't get raised, or not very strongly. I didn't expect to be brought up against a few silly typos,
especially as I am normally conscientious about trivia, but in the exhaustion of the day (and a long night) before the printing of the three
review copies I hadn't spell-checked the Contents - so had mistyped the word 'Chapter', on every chapter heading, and hadn't spotted it, in
the grey light of dawn. I think I did spot a more than usual gleam in the (female) external examiner's eye when she pointed out a
consistent misspelling of an author named Cockton ...
The internal examiner did grill me, quite rightly, on a point of
statistics/maths, with reference to a paper which I had cited in a chapter summary (but I had read it thoroughly, and even remembered doing so).
This turned out to be the only significant change I had to make, and wasn't too long in page-length terms. What was long was
having to add to most of my statistical tests another version of the same thing, which didn't change the results but should have been done first time
round - this was mind-bendingly tedious, but not difficult.
The rest is salience - or rather just fixing the typos, re-tarting it up and
re-re-printing it (a whole lost weekend just to check through each final final chapter and produce three more copies) - it was far far easier
to just junk the previous versions and produce it all again, than attempt to deal with repagination and insert fresh sheets.
It took another three months to get all the whole post-viva process done, by which time I was more than a little fed up with it (you think
you're finished after a successful viva - hah !).
So the aftermath was worse than the thing itself - I really really didn't
want to go back to those wretched t-tests, not again .... And the practicalities of producing a finished copy for binding, nine months after
stopping on the actual work and (in many cases) having left the university, moved, started a new job (though not in my case), should
not be underestimated. But it did get done, and I look at the beautifully bound thing occasionally (and haven't yet been embarrassed at
it - but it's only three years).
A really useful preparation for the viva itself was that my supervisor kindly
gave me some pointers for what to expect and how to prepare, with particular reference to the thesis itself - and, as usual, he was
spot on. This very nicely rounded off what (again - I may be unusual, or just unusually lucky) was an excellent supervision.
I had been surprised to discover that I could nominate the external examiner, so
chose someone who had liked some of my previous work. This is the place (as this is anonymous) to reveal that she is not a million
miles from a CS department near you ... and I must get round to visiting ...
(submitted 12 Nov 2003)
Being 8 months pregnant it was a rather extraordinary experience - more
akin to torture. It lasted about 4 hours and although I'd attended the
toilet before the viva (several times) a pregnant bladder couldn't last that
long and so I spent three quarters of the time wriggling on my seat
desperate to escape (no difference there with other people I've talked to :-).
Still although I was able to concentrate on the questions they asked and
answer them appropriately I found that very important relevant facts (that could
have made the whole experience a lot less stressful) that were told to me in the
viva by the examiners seemed to pass through my brain heard but unregistered.
For example, I was told at the beginning of my viva basically 'not to worry, that
I had passed' although not in those words. However, this didn't seem to
register. As they went through the minor changes I became pointlessly more
and more worried about the outcome probably for 2 reasons:
1. The external examiner went through many changes which seemed larger than
minor changes - as it turned out (and he had told me at the beginning but it hadn't sunk in) he was suggesting changes to the thesis
for later turning it into a book not for re-submission for the PhD.
2. The internal examiner jumped on every little comma to question its
placement. As it turned out later on when he was questioned by the
external examiner and my supervisor about his actions he stated that he hadn't
wanted me to feel I'd gotten away with a light viva because I was pregnant.
Moral of the story: don't take a viva when you are 8 months pregnant :-)
(submitted 18 Feb 2004)
I stayed at my girlfriend's the night before. Had curry (not hot!) and wine for dinner - don't remember any dreams (I never do).
A weird thing happened to me on the train to my viva though. My ear suddenly started to bleed spontaneously. It turned out not to be the actual ear, but the edge of my earlobe. I assume I was probably nervous and had high blood pressure, causing a capillary to burst. Weird...
(submitted 2 February 2004)
My viva dream! Over two decades later, thankfully, I forget the details, which are probably too embarrassing to recount. But I remember having a conversation with 'someone' (let's say). It was quite an involved conversation. And then my mind's eye panned back, and I discovered we were typing to each other, not talking. I have quite lucid dreams, but this one got diverted when I started playing with the shift key. I had been typing too much on my thesis. Good grief, how am I telling you this but by typing? My dream was a premonition of word processing!
I spent ages printing my thesis again and again, and correcting numerous grammatical errors and clarifying thoughts on each printout. I hoped I made them clearer or developed new ideas even at this late stage. I finally noticed that the number of changes per print out was a constant, so I was not making progress. Time to hand it in. This insight coincided with someone suggesting you are ready for your viva when you are prepared to throw your thesis at your examiners.
I have no recollection of what my viva was about, apart from panic. I do recall being asked why my chapters didn't relate to each other, and I gave a smart ass answer that my thesis was written on the word processor that I'd written, and it had 64kb memory (which included the program as well as the text), so I never actually saw more than one chapter at a time. I was sent out for an hour. I was then asked back in for further questioning. One examiner gave me a long list of errors. The other examiner asked me to write a book. Someone asked me to submit to the ACM thesis series, but I didn't for some reason - Ellis Horwood, who went bust, wanted to publish it. I finally wrote the book ten years later, and I now get negative royalties on it.
What I learnt: present your thesis as if it is finished, and then - as my examiners admitted in the bar that evening - they won't dare to ask you to make corrections. I had presented my thesis fully bound, and I told my examiners that a long name like mine costs a lot to have down the spine in gold leaf.
I also learnt, in hindsight, never to go into a grilling being taking control from the start (even if you can't keep it up). Have a couple of slides prepared, so you can excel with your rehearsed stuff. I haven't had any more dreams about typing, but, hey, I've been doctored.
(submitted 13 Nov 2003)
All I can recall now was that when it was over I could not realise that it was over, and I did not realise that it was over until 2 days later, when I thought: well now I have nothing to do. I did have already a RF job, but I felt empty and that nothing was as nice as the PhD.
Scene: Cambridge, early 1953, I was a maths research student.
Visit to my supervisor. Conversation as follows.
'Have I got enough material for a thesis?'
'The examiners will be interested in quality, not quantity.'
'Would you advise me to submit what I have done?'
'Oh, yes, there's quite enough.'
Sit down to start writing. As my supervisor had always encouraged us to write up as we were going the final production of the thesis was largely a matter of
selection and editing, polishing. That seems like a good practice to follow at all times.
There was an unwritten agreement in the faculty that a thesis submitted within the first 2 weeks of the summer term would be examined in time for the degree
to be awarded at the graduation day at the end of June. So I started typing in mid April, getting it done (no word processors, so be very careful), 155 pages
in 9 days. (I had asked a typing agency who quoted 6 weeks and 50 pounds, which was rejected for 2 reasons, took too long - and I would still have had to check
it all - and I didn't have 50 pounds.) I submitted the thesis a few days before the end of April.
The oral was fixed for 22 May, 2.30 pm, in the prof's room. Preparation was difficult because one doesn't know how an oral works. One's own work appears to
be trivial, certainly when compared to what one's colleagues have been doing. We all felt that, clearly because we were totally familiar with our work but
not so with other peoples'. Anyway, I got to the prof's office at the right time, bright sunny afternoon. 'Oh, you've come. it's a problem, I have had a
phone call from Prof Davenport (external, from UCL actually), his car has broken down and he'll be late. And we have John Hunter coming for his oral at
3.15.' Silence. 'Nice day to be on the river'. What am I supposed to say to that? Anyway, at about 5 to 3 a flustered Harold Davenport appears, I am asked
to go away and come back at 10 past 3, and if I saw John I was to tell him to come at 4 pm. The oral itself was not too bad, HD asked several questions about
some details, pointed out a few minor arithmetic slips - so he had clearly read it in great detail - and then asked some general questions, as 'required by the
university regulations'. After this had gone on for about half an hour my supervisor just said 'We've heard enough, haven't we, Harold?' and I was sent
away. At that time they did not tell you the result straight away, as is the usual practice now. I met John on my way
downstairs and he just told me to go to a friend's room, with a request that he was to have tea ready by about 20
past 4.
The University was extremely rapid in letting me have the result. The examination had been on a Friday and by Saturday of the following week I had
the official letter from the Registrar, that I had passed, that this had been confirmed by the Faculty Board and the Board of Research Studies. That was at
the end of May and I had the degree conferred on me on 24 June.
One last point. The minimum time for a PhD was 3 years, or rather 9 terms. The thesis could not be submitted until the beginning of the 9th term. As we were
all liable for military service there was a great incentive to finish within the 3 years. You would not get deferment from national service beyond 3 years.
All my friends managed to get everything complete within the 3 years.
We were encouraged to find our own problems (more about that in a moment) but
were also expected to see our supervisors regularly, every week at the start, certainly at intervals of no more than 2 weeks throughout the 3 year period. Not
necessarily a long visit. Our particular group (academic and research students) had a weekly seminar, attendance was not compulsory but no one ever missed
unless they were ill. we had a visiting speaker quite often, there were talks by staff and research students on work in progress. For those of just starting
Prof Mordell would give us a paper to explain to the rest of us, so we had to give a talk probably at least once a term. Good training!
I mentioned that we were encouraged to find our own problems. In my own case it was like this. In my first term Prof M was away in the USA and Dr Rankin had
been asked to look after me. He said at the start that he was not going to waste a problem on me, if I could do it so could he and do-able problems weren't all that common! So, he encouraged me to read and go to lectures (Maths Part 3). I did find something that looked interesting but Dr R didn't know much
about it, so he asked Prof Davenport (UCL), who replied that it was interesting and immensely difficult! (= don't let a new research student loose on that).
When Mordell was back, beginning of January I introduced myself to him and went to see him. he asked what I had been doing, approved of the books I had been
reading and then asked "Have you found a problem?" "Not yet""Come back when you have, good morning". Enough to drown yourself in the river! But one of
my friends came to the rescue (he was 3rd year research) by advising me to look at the most recent copy of 'Mathematical Reviews', look at the area I was interested, read all of that month's reviews. If one was of interest, find it
in the Library, read the original, look at its references etc. If nothing in that month's issue, go back a month and repeat. If you found nothing of
interest in a year's worth of reviews, then you had no right to be there and should pack up. good advice. I found something of interest in the first issue I
looked at, the work on that became part of my thesis and I later even met the author of that paper that had struck me (he was a Prof at MIT). The fact that
there was a research group of about 12 people, in various stages of work, from new research students to post-doctoral fellows also meant that there were many
people one could talk to and who could point to interesting areas. And that's how I found the main part of my thesis problem, two of them had developed a
brilliant method for solution of an interesting range of problems.
However, it was restricted to 2 dimensions and I looked at extensions to 3 dimensions. The
essential tool of the 2D problem could not work in 3 dimensions but there were other features that came to one's rescue. And it did work. The first problem I
tried it on was one that Harold Davenport had done, with great effort, in a paper of some 20 pages or so. The new method polished it off in about one page
of not very difficult work!
Sorry that this has gone on. The lessons for helping research students are that regular sympathetic supervision is essential, some sort of guidance
towards sources of problems with advice on whether this was within the student's
reach, write up as you go along so that the final writing of the thesis becomes an editing exercise, all these seem valid even now, for the current generation
of students.