So I had an official ‘welcome’ to the uni last week. Although I know my way around the campus and the city, having done my BA and MA here, it was reassuring to have a structured event to attend. I was looking forward to meeting other postgrads in the same situation as me. I was looking forward to a free lunch (heck yes to free stuff). And I was looking forward to some sense of security – some guidance that I was on the right track.
The day was jam packed and the teeny seminar room was also jam packed – with students. It turned out to be a very stuffy setting for a multitude of powerpoints (feedback comment #1). I joke, but I was sat there as usual jotting down notes: it was a ‘useful’ day. Of course some bits were more useful than others, but on the whole I appreciated the information and the expectations set out. As the day went on though, with session after session of things to ‘bear in mind’, of guidelines, of opportunities to take…I felt slightly daunted. Am I really up to the task? How did I end up here? Does what I’m doing really matter?
Indeed, as I was chatting to other students in the ice-breaker session, I felt extremely inadequate. As people were explaining their research projects and their experience, I just wanted to keep probing and finding out more in order to prevent them from asking me the terrifying question, ‘so what about you? what are you doing?’
I’m in the humanities and when I explained my research proposal to a friend’s mum, a practically-minded doctor, she asked me, ‘So, is it useful?’ To which the haunting answer was shamefully, in her eyes at least, ‘no’.
Surrounded by other postgrads from Engineering, Medicine, and Pharmacy, I considered my research, which at the moment consists of very random reading. I thought about the path which is before me, leading directly into the theoretical. And for the first time since starting, I felt like my PhD isn’t worth it. My research won’t cure a disease, you see.
But over the long-awaited free lunch (which turned out to be a little disappointing due to my dietary requirements – it’s a good thing I like salad…), as I confessed my sentiments of inadequacy, someone wonderful reminded me that any research is good as it contributes to knowledge. I thought about this. I don’t think she was just saying it to make me feel better. No, any research contributes to the expansion of minds, to the engaging of opinion, to the enabling of further learning.
So I continue on, yes a little daunted, but reading, thinking, writing, and fighting (even in my own mind) for the significance of seemingly unimportant research.