“Paying it Forward” as a Feminist Educator: Lessons Learned on the Journey from Dissertation Writer to Dissertation Committee Member

One of the most joyful parts of being a faculty member is the chance to begin paying forward all that was given to me as a doctoral student by my terrific adviser and dissertation chair, Dr. Susan Robb Jones, and my other graduate school mentors. One way to do so is to share what I have learned with communities like the Standing Committee for Women. Now that I’m on this side of the real and figurative school of education conference room table, I do have a broader perspective on how to prepare for and complete a successful dissertation defense. I am happy to share my story and offer some advice, although my number one piece of advice is not to dwell on what other people are doing or have done – you’ve got to make this process your own if it’s going to work for you.

When she approached me about writing this blog post, Dr. Mollie Monahan-Kreishman (whose own dissertation you should read immediately) asked me to focus on the dissertation process from the perspective of my transition from student to faculty member. The easiest way for me to do this was to write the story of my experience as a student, write the story of my experience as a faculty member (so far), and offer lessons learned from both stories (which I’ve highlighted in bold throughout). By the end of your read, I hope you’ll understand the introductory clause in the title of this post, “‘Paying it Forward’ as a Feminist Commitment.” (And I’m chuckling to myself as I review this paragraph – it essentially outlines the study purpose, methodology, findings, and implications of this blog post! Once a dissertation writer, always a dissertation writer.)

Writing My Dissertation: A Labor of Love

In summer 2012 I successfully defended my dissertation. The outcome of my study was a grounded theory of racial consciousness, identity, and dissonance among White women in student affairs graduate preparation programs. Although I’m proud of the final product, I derived far greater meaning and satisfaction from the process. To be sure, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows – there was plenty of anxiety, uncertainty, and exhaustion; no shortage of frustrating moments and setbacks; and even the occasional meltdown (“I can’t do this”/”I’ll never finish”/”what was I thinking?”). But deep down, even in tough moments, as a student I cherished every aspect of the dissertation process.

What, exactly, did I love so much? All of it, really. Refining my topic, defining the purpose and research questions, becoming an expert on an epistemological foundation and a methodological approach, diving into the “deep end” of relevant literature…and, eventually, contacting participants, scheduling interviews, traveling around the country, and the transformative experience of spending time and engaging in deep conversation about race, gender, privilege, oppression, and identity with 11 young White women preparing to become student affairs professionals. Then, of course, there was the tedious but transcendental process of analyzing interview transcripts through increasingly comprehensive levels of coding; watching a theory emerge out of chaos, like a lump of clay transformed into beauty on a potter’s wheel; writing, writing, writing; and preparing to defend the final product to a committee of scholars I deeply respected.

The defense. After such a powerful series of experiences, preparing for my defense was strangely unsettling. I had spent nearly two years developing, conducting, and writing about my study, and I had made and distributed five copies of a painstakingly crafted 400-page document. Then, I had to develop a five-minute talk and a two-page executive summary. The prospect of this task was intimidating and, honestly, a little annoying. How was I supposed to distill two years of transformative learning into five minutes and two pages – and what was the value of doing so?

To my surprise, performing those tasks was incredibly helpful. It forced me to focus on which points were most important and decide how I would communicate them. As I worked, I thought about my audience – my committee members, of course, but also my invited guests: friends from my doctoral program (representing all stages of the dissertation process), my partner (who has a PhD in math), and my mom and stepdad (who had patiently and enthusiastically followed and supported my progress, and neither of whom holds a doctoral degree). Thinking about the audience helped me visualize the defense as an educational space – I was the educator, my dissertation was the content, and everyone else was there to learn. I also envisioned the defense as a feminist space in which transformative learning would occur. Framing it this way helped me recognize my expertise, step into my confidence, and get over my nerves. Of course, I still recognized the expertise and authority of my chair and committee, but reframing was helpful.

When the big day arrived, I was really nervous but found, to my surprise, that the defense sort of ran itself. In reality, Susan ran it, but I was surprised by how scripted and structured it was. The structure will be familiar to many – chair welcomes and introduces everyone, student and guests leave the room so committee can plan Q&A, student comes back and gives a short talk, committee members (and sometimes guests) ask hard questions, committee runs out of questions, student and guests leave and gather nervously in the hallway, committee confers, chair comes out of the room and says, “congratulations, doctor!” That’s pretty much how it went. There were some powerful moments – Susan and the other committee members offered insightful questions and critiques, praised my writing and methodology, and made great suggestions for publications and future work. And there was humor – when Susan stepped into the hallway to tell me the good news, she didn’t see me at first and asked the group, “where’s Dr. Robbins?” When my partner answered, “I’m right here,” Susan affectionately rolled her eyes and said, “not you – the other Dr. Robbins!” And then the celebrations began. That was it! After a celebratory happy hour, I had a good cry (of relief), went to bed early, and slept late.

The value of the process and the good fortune of a great adviser. As meaningful as I found the defense, I valued the entire process. At every stage I uncovered new complexities about the topic of my study and new insights about myself as a scholar and White woman myself. My dissertation offered one opportunity after another to deepen my learning about student development, social identities, qualitative research, student affairs, and social justice. Ultimately what emerged was a rich set of theoretical insights full of implications for practice in graduate preparation programs and beyond – which, as a faculty member, I would get to spend my time refining and translating into manuscripts for publication. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better experience.

I also couldn’t have dreamed of a better adviser. Susan is an expert in both the content and the methodology of my study. She brings a learner’s disposition and a developmental approach to the advising process. She has incredibly high standards for quality and rigor, yet these standards are achievable because she teaches her students how to meet them. And she had tremendous faith in me as a researcher, writer, and educator. We also happen to have a lot in common – research and practice interests, core values (including feminism), (some) salient social identities (including being women in higher education), and a tendency to laugh at our own and each other’s clever puns. I have no delusions about how lucky I was to find an adviser who was such a great match in so many ways, and I don’t want to discourage anyone who isn’t in that situation. A great adviser-advisee relationship situated in feminist values is not necessarily a prerequisite for writing – or advising – a great dissertation. But it sure does help – and, for me, it set the tone for how I would approach the process of being on the other side of the table.

Being a Committee Member: A Feminist Lens

About six weeks after defending my dissertation, I started my job as a faculty member in Virginia Tech’s Higher Education program. Over the past two years, I’ve slowly worked up to teaching and advising master’s and doctoral students at every stage, including service on dissertation committees. This semester I’ve witnessed three successful defenses (following two successful proposal meetings last year), and I’m looking forward to another proposal meeting in a few weeks. I’ve also just agreed to co-chair a dissertation for the first time (on a feminist topic!). However, since my primary role so far has been as a committee member at prospectus (proposal) and dissertation defenses, my comments will focus on that part of the process rather than advising.

I do not teach at the same institution where I earned my doctorate, but so far, being on the other side of the conference room table mirrors my experience as a dissertation writer. I just have a different role in the process – and am situated differently in the institutionalized power relations that inevitably accompany significant rituals in graduate education. The paradox of the dissertation defense is that the student is really the expert and educator in the room when it comes to the study they’ve conducted, yet the committee members are positioned as the “real” experts who determine whether the student’s study (and, it may seem at the time, the student herself) is worthy of a doctoral degree. The dissertation defense ritual is in many ways archaic and steeped in patriarchal power relations (even when some or all of the participants do not identify as men).

Still, performing this ritual can be a deeply feminist act, especially when the student identifies as a feminist and/or findings from the study have the potential to contribute to gender or other forms of equity. I now see the other side of the relief, joy, and pride I experienced after my defense. Defending the dissertation marks the successful completion of a very long journey through an educational system that is far from perfect. As a committee member, I try to be transparent with students about the realities of institutional power while doing all that I can to foster an educative and empowering environment. Through this approach, I am finding ways to begin to pay forward all that Susan and others gave to me as a doctoral student. In this way, I am taking my place in a long line of feminist educators who came before me and, I hope, clearing a path for those who will follow.

I hope my story has offered some insight, a chuckle or two, and a reminder that no matter where you are in the dissertation process, you are not alone. Many have gone before you, and many will follow. You, too, will find your way. That said, if I can be helpful, please let me know. After all, paying it forward is a feminist act. 

Claire K. Robbins
Virginia Tech
Assistant Professor of Higher Education
robbinsc@vt.edu, @ClaireKRobbins

Because “if any woman becomes so proficient as to be able to write down her thoughts, let her do so and not despise the honor but rather flaunt it instead of fine clothes, necklaces, and rings. For these may be considered ours only by use, whereas the honor of being educated is ours entirely.”

— Louise Labé, French feminist, poet, linguist, soldier, 1524/25-1566; Quoted in Uppity Women of Medieval Times (1997) by Vicki León