TRYING TO OVERCOME NEEDLESS WORRIES

       After five months of writing and revising my research proposal, accepting and incorporating the suggestions of my supervisors, it still had not been approved. I was concerned mainly because the suggestions I had been given had not been a tremendous help to my research proposal, but had rather turned it into a clunky document that took the reader down too many digressions and began to lose its focus as the reader progressed towards the close of the proposal. I had become concerned because the conversations with my supervisors went nowhere; they asserted that key elements were missing from my research proposal, and if revised, they claimed, would clarify parts of my research proposal. However, upon reviewing these criticisms each time they were issued, I became convinced that the contents that they had claimed were absent were in fact not, as these elements were written in the proposal in black and white. This process went back and forth for five months, with me returning to it and re-reading the “problems”, only to find that the key information were actually present in the research proposal.

I began to worry, as this doctorate process was beginning to feel more like a political game, especially after I was instructed by one of my supervisors that sometimes we have to play the game. I wasn’t sure then what he meant, and when I asked him what the game was, he didn’t respond. Even now, I’m still not one hundred percent sure that my instinct is right, but when the comment was made, I thought of the doctorate student from India, about whom I had learned from a fellow student while I was at Massey, who had arrived in New Zealand to commence a PhD in the sciences. His PhD thesis was taken away from him by another person, who had published the exact same findings based on the exact same research design as the one he had worked on for three years. Although he was given six months to re-do the experiment, any good researcher knows that it takes longer to re-do and re-design another experiment. Therefore, though the offer was a kind gesture, it was unrealistic. I suspect, however, that his supervisors already knew this. Later, I was told that doctorate students on scholarship cannot discuss their research with others outside of the committee, which merely adds to the suspicion that the student’s research was likely stolen by an academic on the student’s committee, who had not yet earned a PhD, or possibly given to a favored student at the university.

This revelation worried me. Adding to this concern is my gut instinct that the former supervisor I had escaped from at Massey is here at Auckland influencing people on my committee, a professional friendship considered to be an unfavorable situation for the student. University bylaws at both Massey and Auckland, and the University of Auckland Student Charter, protect doctorate students from such misconduct, so the fact that the incident involving the Indian doctorate student at Massey even occurred tells me that perhaps politics plays a much stronger role in guiding academic staff’s behavior than academic integrity. It may even override the feeling of responsibility to one’s role as a tutor of sorts.

In the end, my concerns caused me to seek another perspective regarding my research proposal. I discussed my research proposal with another academic at the Student Learning Services, after which I expressed that the current state of my research is not where I want it to be and does not reflect the work I like to produce. He suggested that I re-write it and submit it to him. Thereafter, in the same way that I had approached the rewriting of my literature review, I had to push away the suggestions of my committee (very much like the way I had discarded the instructions given by my primary supervisor at Massey on writing the literature review) and spent the next three days re-working the entire proposal from the very beginning.

My concerns about the safety of my research and writings are of the degree that I’ve decided to copyright all the chapters I’ve written to date and, along with the research proposal, post them on my professional profile (http://nz.linkedin.com/in/camilletuasonmata) as “works-in-progress” so the ownership over them is made clear. My research would not be considered to be highly commercial. Rather, it is designed to support food system planning in the long run. however, the design is original and the content (after reading countless literature) is original, which meets the PhD thesis requirements at the University of Auckland. These may be good enough reasons for someone who wants to poach my thesis, and posting the chapters I've completed in the provisional year is a good enough reason to “save” my thesis from someone who has not yet earned a PhD. I’ve discovered since commencing my PhD studies in New Zealand that some departments, if not most, still employ individuals with less than a doctorate. I still don't know if my suspicions about my situation are accurate, but if you think about the US$35,000 investment I’ve made into this PhD education, thus far, and the events of my life – or rather coping with the profound disappointments and closed doors in the course of my adult life, which have led me to this place – than you would understand my reasons for being so protective of my academic work. 

            After the revelation about the Indian international student and my experiences with the politics over my progress in the provisional year, I now understand why universities in other countries are reluctant to hire anyone, who has not earned a PhD.

I smile at the irony of my situation when I think about John Wood’s stated reasons for starting the girl’s scholarship at Room to Read. He argued that girls have the least chance of getting an education in developing countries. Those girls living in developing countries are colored. Funny enough, here in New Zealand, I’m finding that as a woman of color, I’m fighting to protect my right to be treated fairly and to have my work assessed objectively. So, although the door at these universities opened to give me a fair opportunity to pursue a career in applied research, a career path that chose me rather than the other way around, I’m struggling to make sure that I circumvent the politics, focus on studying, and stay in.

The meeting at SLS was Monday, two weeks ago. The following Saturday, I decided to walk through farmland and conservation areas to Whitford Village, one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of towns, to get my balance back. The village occupies a vernacular at a round-a-bout on Whitford Road. By the time I arrived at this place, the café, Brickworks, was about to close. So, feeling famished, I asked if she could sell me a sandwich and a flat white to go. She agreed, after which I sat on a cement wall not far from the dog guarding a quaint antique shop, who kept me company for a little while until the owner came to claim him.

Afterwards, I stopped into the Pohatukua Reserve at the edge of the village, sat down on a bench, and watched the birds before heading back to civilization. For the return route, I chose a hidden path that wound its way along the Turanga Creek and met up with Wades Road, which led me to a sign for an olive farm located a bit farther down the road. It was a nice day, hot with a gentle breeze, with nice people being careful to not frighten me as I walked, gingerly, along the narrow road. I took some photographs to share.