Sunday, May 15, 2016

The Cost That No One Talks About

I read a few articles not long after having started my PhD that laid out the costs of obtaining a degree in higher education (see blogs Slate and  Quartz). While I personally found many of the statements true, the emotional cost that it spoke of, did not directly speak to me. It mentioned that many people become depressed, suicidal, emotionally unstable, and either act on it or leave the program. I say this as a preface for the things that have all been happening within the last few months that I have not taken the time to update here. I haven't because, dealing with it in person has been taxing and the idea of rehashing it, as it is all happening around me, was too much.

An important piece of information is that statistically, the attrition rate at the PhD level is roughly 50%. While my cohort originally started with six (five first year students and one vet-med dual degree PhD) we are now down to three. Two of those left because they realized that they weren't doing the thing that made them happy, or that a PhD wasn't for them and opted to cut their losses. One came into the program with a lot of emotional baggage and during our second year was hospitalized for depression and alcoholism; as such, they have been quietly asked to leave the program, given a year to get their life together, and may be given the opportunity to return. My class is pretty much batting average.

The class below me, the current 2nd years, are wrapping up their last bit of class work and are soon to be taking their qualifying exams. They too are a class of 6 and have already begun seeing that people will leave. One of their cohort, a friend of mine, has struggled with handling intra-lab politics, as well as interactions with her boss. While no mentor-mentee relationship is perfect, theirs is/was a sordid mess. Her boss is someone whom I have a very strong distaste for, I have said I will never work with again, and I can only imagine what being in her lab would be like. The boss is a vile venomous person and I cannot think of a nice thing to say. As such, the kind of vitriol that spewed forth from her mouth and toward my friend has left a potential lethal wound. Recently, my friend was in the hospital for reasons not disclosed to any beyond a select few. Having some deductive reasoning skills of my own, along with a contextual understanding, I believe she was there due to a worry of inflicting self harm. Two weeks ago, her lab members were reckless and did something that put lives at risk. For my friend, this was the last straw. She has decided to leave the program until September and quite frankly, I really don't think she will return. The statement itself is awful because she has a brilliant mind and could do wonderfully given the right mentorship but I don't think she had that opportunity.

The combination of those now gone from my cohort and the new absence has others talking. It has the current second years questioning who will be the next to go, to throw in the towel and walk away. And truthfully, it isn't just the second years talking either, the first years are watching and they are all a bit scared. Several of them have talked about being nervous that they won't make it through. Made jokes about hoping that it won't be them next to leave. It is in the program's best interest to have a lower rate of attrition but how do we accomplish that? How do we reshape this culture of cruel behavior? It isn't in the interest of academia to raise a bunch of softies who can't take a punch (by which I mean who can't compete for grant funding, who can't defend their work, who can't take constructive criticism) but that isn't all what is happening here.

I see that there needs to be a culture change but of the three of my cohort remaining, I'm the only active participant in program activities. The dual-degree has a year left before her return to vet-school and as such has been under the wire to publish and produce as much data as possible, leaving little to no time for anything else. The other student works at a lab on part of our satellite campus and he is, from what I've heard, struggling. While this student did pass his qualifying exam, he has been struggling to maintain consistent progress and may not make it through the program. So of the six of us, I may be the last one standing. That is a huge undertaking for one person and in the interest of self preservation and success I honestly just want to finish my work so that I can graduate.

Lastly, a lab member of mine has recently had a lot of health issues. In trying to identify what is the source of the illness, he has undergone a myriad of tests, the results came back inconclusive but pointing to one of several diseases that may leave him wheelchair bound or dead within the next 5 years. This news was shocking and surprising, and he took me into his confidence for two main reasons: 1) if anything should happen to him while working, he wanted someone to know what to tell EMS, and 2) to have someone to talk about and confide in. This has obviously raised a lot of questions for him about what to do next. I mean, if someone told you that the clock is ticking and in 5 years you wouldn't be here anymore, what would you do? Would you keep working? The problem is, he doesn't have a timeline yet, there are still so many tests left to be done to narrow down the cause of his symptoms and questions left unanswered. It could be something that kills him in 5 or 30 years. That's a big difference and one that would make a lot of choices easier or more difficult...but he still needs more information. As that has been unfolding, I have been a sounding board, absorbing the information he has so far, offering comfort where I can, and proffering advice when asked. I can't empathize with him because that isn't a situation I've ever been in nor can I fully grasp (and I doubt anyone could unless they too received that kind of news).

For these students, doing a PhD has caused their worlds to come crumbling down around them. Their health has declined, by which I mean both physical and mental. Their support systems aren't there, and those of us who can identify and support them are too wrapped up in our own work to really offer the kind of help they all need. Doing a PhD isn't easy, no one ever said it was, but until recently, people haven't spoken about the true health cost of getting one and it needs to be voiced. It is only when we give it a voice that I think we'll be able to tackle the conversation of how to change the culture so that this kind of emotional damage isn't inflicted upon the students. There is a high cost to this degree and for some, they do pay with their lives...that price is too high and no one should have to pay it.