Week 12 / Spring 2024: More on Qualifying Exams
At some point during the beginning of the semester, I decided that it would be a good idea to begin the Qualifying Exam process early. The jury is still out about the quality of this decision, and the nature of its consequences. But, in short, Qualifying Exams are comprised of steps that look something like the following:
Select your committee members. Usually people you have taken classes with. Sometimes someone whose work you’re interested in, even if you haven’t had the opportunity to take a course with them. You do this three times over to form your Exam Committee, which may or may not be the same as your Dissertation Committee (more on that later—like, next year).
After selecting them [in your head], you have to ask them if they have the time/capacity/interest in working with you. This is not unlike asking someone on a date (or so I’m told since I don’t know if I’ve ever actually asked someone on a date). If you’ve had classes with them, you might have a sense about how they might feel about you. If they’d be amenable to spending one-on-one time with you on a near weekly basis for several months. And then (assuming they continue onward by joining your Dissertation Committee), reading chapters of your writing over the course of several years. And then, writing you letters of recommendation, being a metaphorical shoulder to cry on (if your relationship develops in that way), and really, ultimately, they are agreeing (in theory) to being in your corner for the next several decades. It is no small thing, if you care about at least the possibility of existing in the academy beyond your doctorate program.
If they say no, then, I guess it’s back to the drawing board. But, if they say yes, you then move on to creating The List™, with each advisor (i.e. member of your committee). The List™ (three times over), in my department, is comprised of 60-100 texts (monographs and articles) that are relevant to the field of study. Which reminds me of a step that I missed. So let me address that here:
This would go before the first step, but I’m enjoying this stream of consciousness writing, so here we are. Or it might be tangential to the first step. First and foremost, you need to know what “fields” you are interested in. By this, I mean “fields of study.” Which is to say, what discourses are you interested in gaining expertise in. Or, more simply, what classes do you want to teach in the future. I’ve learned that one of the primary purposes of these exams is to provide you (i.e. me) with teaching competencies. So, before you select your committee members, or perhaps in tandem with that process, you need to figure out what you want to learn about, in its broadest iteration. I, for instance, am currently in a field called The History of Atlantic Slavery—which will then cover, as you might imagine, a number of topics within that larger field; but, of course cannot, and will not, be exhaustive.
So, as I was saying, you’re creating this list. How involved your committee member is in the process is different depending on the person. Having created the bulk of all three of my lists at this point, my process has largely looked like searching for syllabi, other exam lists, and recommended books on the old Interweb—and selecting texts that feel important (i.e. foundational) and interesting to me. After doing that, and landing somewhere in the 60-100 range, I’ve shared the list with my advisor, and they’ve provided feedback on what I might cut/add/etc. In one case, I sat across from my advisor as she rattled off something like 40-50 texts (from memory!!!) that I should add to my list. Sorcery.
So, now you have your lists. And all that is left to do is read. 100 books. Over the course of a few months. Jk. That is not all that’s left, but it is the next step. (This is where I am with my first exam.)
After you read, then, at least in my department, you write. Your advisor(s) provide you with 2-3 questions that broadly address the themes of your list. And for the “Exam,” you are given 72 hours to write a 15-20-page response paper. I’ll begin this process after the summer.
It’s also up to your discretion, and the advising of your committee, whether or not you conduct exams (i.e. the reading) concurrently, or during different points of the year. I’ll be doing a little bit of both.
Which is all to say that, at present, I am steeped in learning about the history of the Atlantic world—with depth and breadth. And I am learning about the discipline of History™, and the questions that historians ask; and how those might differ or align with questions that I have. And, mostly, I am learning a lot about myself: about how I deal with overwhelm, how I work through avoidance, how I organize large swaths of information (lots of spreadsheets and tables and some drawings of maps), how I make it through (on average) a book a day (spoiler: I don’t); my capacity (for better or worse) to sidestep emotion when it comes to really heavy “academic” material; and, ultimately, this is just more information about how I feel about the academy, its processes, its commitments—and how they align with the ways I want to move through the world.
