Tuesday, May 13, 2008
My Final Exam
My general exams are over and I passed.
As I read over that sentence, I'm tempted to just stop writing. I have been hoping to write those eight words for two years and now that I finally can, I'm not really sure how much anything else I add will effectively capture my profound sense of relief and (dare I say it?) happiness. There is just something so satisfying about seeing that all of the time and effort I put into this process have finally paid off.
People have told me that the completion of general exams marks the peak of one's academic knowledge. After that moment, a graduate student's focus is forced to become a specialist in the process of completing a dissertation.
So do I feel particularly smarter? Not really. There were a few occasions during the discussion this afternoon where I fumbled for answers. I decided to tackle my minor fields first and the finish with the major field where I felt most comfortable with the material.
The U.S. history field went well enough though I needed some prodding to recall exactly why the National Recovery Administration failed. Thankfully, I was able to reference the correct Supreme Court decision (Schechter Poultry Co. v. U.S.) once I realized that my professors were not asking about its structural deficiencies. I was also able to make a reference to my time at Underwood High School in a discussion about whether racial discrimination results primarily from legal and social institutions or personal prejudice. Even more shocking, I tried to make reference to my undergraduate senior thesis on the American Communist Party while describing the historical difficulties associated with maintaining liberal coalitions.
Perhaps because my first minor field was divided between two professors, the half hour passed quickly and I was feeling rather confident as I began to my history of technology field. Then the questions started and two problems quickly manifested themselves. First, my professor had only a limited idea of what books I had actually read, despite the fact that I provided him with a copy of the list in advance and he had time during the first half hour to peruse it and make sure, for example, that I had read anything about how Henry Ford advertised the automobile. (Short answer: No I had not. Perhaps my friend who had twice as many books on his major field list had, but who can keep track of such things?) Perhaps even more frustrating, however, was my inability to determine where his lines of questioning were going. I had been warned about this from a previous examinee. Basically, when asked a question in office hours or a seminar, my professor will respond with a 15 minute anecdote leading to an answer. This is his style of teaching and it works well most of the time. Oral examinations are the exception to the rule, because the student is the one expected to provide the answers. So as much as he would like to tell you the answer, he can only provide a series of questions leading towards a particular end point and hope that the student figures things out. This, it turns out, is a rather painful process, equivalent to being guided through a briar patch while blindfolded, complete with many sharp, painful stops. If I had just been asked about the distinction between IBM's hardware and software services during the 1960s, I might have sounded slightly more coherent, but such was not to be. The best I can claim is that I did not feel completely in the dark regarding material I had actually studied.
Also, everything I read on technology prior to 1850 was completely irrelevant. So much for knowing how a Jacquard loom works.
My final hour of the oral was spent answering questions on my major field: modern science. As mentioned earlier, this was the most difficult part of my written exam thanks to my professor's tendency to ask mind-blowingly broad questions. Nevertheless, I still felt the most comfortable with the actual material thanks to our biweekly online review sessions. (Online because my professor has been working on a book in Berlin this year.) My professor posed his first question and I felt a strange mixture of calm and confusion. The calm came because he had not started off with reference to my written exam, which he had informed us the week before, meant that he likely did not have serious problems with its content. The confusion came because the question was framed as part of a discussion at a cocktail party. Roughly, he wanted me to explain in five minutes or less how the study of genomics had developed starting with Mendel's pea plant experiments in the mid-19th century. Fortunately I was able to devise a rudimentary narrative from Mendel through eugenics to Morgan, and then on to the phage group, Watson and Crick, and the failures of Gamow's RNA Tie Club and the success of Nirenberg and Matthaei in deciphering the genetic code. And that was just the first question! In its breadth it set the tone for the rest of the hour as we jumped from topic to topic---a few minutes on German theoretical physics, some discussion of biography as a genre in the history of science, then off to Cold War security issues in American physics. I was actually rather thrown by a discussion of the Manhattan Project when it looked like I would be asked to name who was in charge of each of its major sites, but thankfully that discussion devolved into a more technical back-and-forth over the difference between uranium and plutonium warheads. Though I admit I nearly fumbled and said that U-238 was not radioactive...in fact, it is radioactive, but not conducive to chain reactions. I also fumbled a question on whether or not there is such a thing as Nazi science by forgetting to include Deutsche Physik in my answer. But then I recovered soon after by describing the differences between the introduction of Western science in China and Japan.
With that my two hours were up and my professors sent me out in the hallway to await their verdict. I had taken off my watch prior to the discussion and with it securely stowed away in my jacket pocket I had no way to keep track of how long I was out there. It certainly felt long enough, as I had enough time to walk down the hallway and get a drink of water. But shortly after I got back they opened the door and announced that I had passed. As my minor field examiners shuffled out of the room to await the next graduate student on their lists, my major field advisor congratulated me on completing what would be the final timed exam of my academic career. He said that I handled myself well, despite some difficulty with broader historiographic questions (especially in technology), and that I demonstrated a excellent command of factual details in each of my fields. And then, he told me that I should go relax.
I confess to feeling a small degree of let-down, partly because I did not pass with distinction (though I doubt many people will) but moreso because this big event which I have been anticipating for months is finally over. Soon I will have to return all of the books--at least seven full shelves worth---to the library and begin thinking about my dissertation. (Ideas for topics are welcome!) But for now, I think I shall take my professor's advice and relax. My girlfriend met me soon after the exam with a bottle of champagne and has an exciting plan for the afternoon all lined up including a movie (Iron Man!), a nice dinner (possibly prime rib!), and then a chance to meet up and celebrate with my fellow graduate students (whom I hope have all passed their exams!).
All in all, it's shaping up to be one memorable day. This was my final exam...ever. There will be one more paper to finish next week. And then I will have earned a master's degree and will be one step closer to becoming a full-fledged academic.
Summer prospectus workshops, dissertation research, and the prospect of teaching undergraduates may eventually loom on the horizon, but for now, at least, the future is looking bright.
My general exams are over and I passed.
My general exams are over and I passed.
As I read over that sentence, I'm tempted to just stop writing. I have been hoping to write those eight words for two years and now that I finally can, I'm not really sure how much anything else I add will effectively capture my profound sense of relief and (dare I say it?) happiness. There is just something so satisfying about seeing that all of the time and effort I put into this process have finally paid off.
People have told me that the completion of general exams marks the peak of one's academic knowledge. After that moment, a graduate student's focus is forced to become a specialist in the process of completing a dissertation.
So do I feel particularly smarter? Not really. There were a few occasions during the discussion this afternoon where I fumbled for answers. I decided to tackle my minor fields first and the finish with the major field where I felt most comfortable with the material.
The U.S. history field went well enough though I needed some prodding to recall exactly why the National Recovery Administration failed. Thankfully, I was able to reference the correct Supreme Court decision (Schechter Poultry Co. v. U.S.) once I realized that my professors were not asking about its structural deficiencies. I was also able to make a reference to my time at Underwood High School in a discussion about whether racial discrimination results primarily from legal and social institutions or personal prejudice. Even more shocking, I tried to make reference to my undergraduate senior thesis on the American Communist Party while describing the historical difficulties associated with maintaining liberal coalitions.
Perhaps because my first minor field was divided between two professors, the half hour passed quickly and I was feeling rather confident as I began to my history of technology field. Then the questions started and two problems quickly manifested themselves. First, my professor had only a limited idea of what books I had actually read, despite the fact that I provided him with a copy of the list in advance and he had time during the first half hour to peruse it and make sure, for example, that I had read anything about how Henry Ford advertised the automobile. (Short answer: No I had not. Perhaps my friend who had twice as many books on his major field list had, but who can keep track of such things?) Perhaps even more frustrating, however, was my inability to determine where his lines of questioning were going. I had been warned about this from a previous examinee. Basically, when asked a question in office hours or a seminar, my professor will respond with a 15 minute anecdote leading to an answer. This is his style of teaching and it works well most of the time. Oral examinations are the exception to the rule, because the student is the one expected to provide the answers. So as much as he would like to tell you the answer, he can only provide a series of questions leading towards a particular end point and hope that the student figures things out. This, it turns out, is a rather painful process, equivalent to being guided through a briar patch while blindfolded, complete with many sharp, painful stops. If I had just been asked about the distinction between IBM's hardware and software services during the 1960s, I might have sounded slightly more coherent, but such was not to be. The best I can claim is that I did not feel completely in the dark regarding material I had actually studied.
Also, everything I read on technology prior to 1850 was completely irrelevant. So much for knowing how a Jacquard loom works.
My final hour of the oral was spent answering questions on my major field: modern science. As mentioned earlier, this was the most difficult part of my written exam thanks to my professor's tendency to ask mind-blowingly broad questions. Nevertheless, I still felt the most comfortable with the actual material thanks to our biweekly online review sessions. (Online because my professor has been working on a book in Berlin this year.) My professor posed his first question and I felt a strange mixture of calm and confusion. The calm came because he had not started off with reference to my written exam, which he had informed us the week before, meant that he likely did not have serious problems with its content. The confusion came because the question was framed as part of a discussion at a cocktail party. Roughly, he wanted me to explain in five minutes or less how the study of genomics had developed starting with Mendel's pea plant experiments in the mid-19th century. Fortunately I was able to devise a rudimentary narrative from Mendel through eugenics to Morgan, and then on to the phage group, Watson and Crick, and the failures of Gamow's RNA Tie Club and the success of Nirenberg and Matthaei in deciphering the genetic code. And that was just the first question! In its breadth it set the tone for the rest of the hour as we jumped from topic to topic---a few minutes on German theoretical physics, some discussion of biography as a genre in the history of science, then off to Cold War security issues in American physics. I was actually rather thrown by a discussion of the Manhattan Project when it looked like I would be asked to name who was in charge of each of its major sites, but thankfully that discussion devolved into a more technical back-and-forth over the difference between uranium and plutonium warheads. Though I admit I nearly fumbled and said that U-238 was not radioactive...in fact, it is radioactive, but not conducive to chain reactions. I also fumbled a question on whether or not there is such a thing as Nazi science by forgetting to include Deutsche Physik in my answer. But then I recovered soon after by describing the differences between the introduction of Western science in China and Japan.
With that my two hours were up and my professors sent me out in the hallway to await their verdict. I had taken off my watch prior to the discussion and with it securely stowed away in my jacket pocket I had no way to keep track of how long I was out there. It certainly felt long enough, as I had enough time to walk down the hallway and get a drink of water. But shortly after I got back they opened the door and announced that I had passed. As my minor field examiners shuffled out of the room to await the next graduate student on their lists, my major field advisor congratulated me on completing what would be the final timed exam of my academic career. He said that I handled myself well, despite some difficulty with broader historiographic questions (especially in technology), and that I demonstrated a excellent command of factual details in each of my fields. And then, he told me that I should go relax.
I confess to feeling a small degree of let-down, partly because I did not pass with distinction (though I doubt many people will) but moreso because this big event which I have been anticipating for months is finally over. Soon I will have to return all of the books--at least seven full shelves worth---to the library and begin thinking about my dissertation. (Ideas for topics are welcome!) But for now, I think I shall take my professor's advice and relax. My girlfriend met me soon after the exam with a bottle of champagne and has an exciting plan for the afternoon all lined up including a movie (Iron Man!), a nice dinner (possibly prime rib!), and then a chance to meet up and celebrate with my fellow graduate students (whom I hope have all passed their exams!).
All in all, it's shaping up to be one memorable day. This was my final exam...ever. There will be one more paper to finish next week. And then I will have earned a master's degree and will be one step closer to becoming a full-fledged academic.
Summer prospectus workshops, dissertation research, and the prospect of teaching undergraduates may eventually loom on the horizon, but for now, at least, the future is looking bright.
My general exams are over and I passed.
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