New tools from summer school

Nick-JonesNick Jones is a second-year postgraduate researcher in the School of Mathematics. His research is rooted in physics and the problem of understanding how a large number of interacting particles behave. Particularly interesting is the case where the emerging cooperative behaviour of the whole system is very different to that of the smaller pieces that make it up.

Having just returned to my desk after a summer of attending conferences and workshops I thought I’d say something about the merits of travelling – a common feature of ‘a year in the life of a PhD’. First, though, I should explain some context about my research – I am studying a physical phenomenon called the fractional quantum Hall effect. The Hall effect, discovered in 1879, is the bunching up of electrons on one side of a current-carrying wire once you place that wire in a magnetic field. You could think of the wire as a horizontal pipe containing fast flowing water which carries bubbles of air and, while there would bubbles all through the pipe, you might expect more towards the top as they drift upwards (of course the real motion of bubbles can get very complicated, but it’s a picture to have in mind). You can explain the Hall effect using the theory of electromagnetism from the 19th century, and characterise the bunching in terms of the conductance. The conductance can be measured in an experiment and is seen to go down as you increase the applied field.

In the 1980s Klaus von Klitzing looked at what happens when you cool a particular ‘wire’ (something called a MOSFET) down to very low temperatures and place this in a very strong magnetic field. These extreme conditions bring the quantum mechanics (the counterintuitive microscopic theory) of the electrons to the forefront and remarkably he saw that the conductance no longer moves up and down continuously with the field, rather it gets stuck on special values – integers. You can explain these special integer values using the quantum mechanics of electrons that we assume to not interact with each other except for the famous rule that any two electrons can’t be in the same state. The pattern the electrons make is very rigid and doesn’t change at all if you prod it a little bit (with the only tool available to you – the magnet). At some point though, as you change how strong the magnet is, the integer jumps up or down. The behaviour in these jumps is even more interesting and is called the fractional quantum Hall effect – this is because you see some further special values inside the jump where the conductance is some fraction (the easiest one to see is 1/3).

There’s still lots of research going into how to describe the system at these fractional conductances but one point that is particularly important to me is that very nice mathematical objects represent the states of the electrons – functions of complex numbers (these are numbers where you are able to take the square root of negative numbers). Another beautiful object appears if the electrons aren’t completely free to move (they’re bound somewhat to atoms) – the Hofstadter butterfly.

Hofstadter butterfly
The Hofstadter butterfly shows you which energies the electrons are allowed to have as you change the strength of the magnetic field. We’re trying to see how these two sides of the same physical system fit together in terms of some ideas from another mathematical community – the probability theorists. They work on randomness in all its manifestations but in particular have looked at these complex functions on lattices – exactly the setting where the Hofstadter butterfly appears.

To see how these pieces fit together, I need to understand the two sides, and also the potential glue. In August I was lucky to get the chance to participate in a month-long school on topological condensed matter physics – a booming area of research which grew out of work on the quantum Hall effect, and in which a central theoretical concept is the Berry phase (discovered in Bristol!). The school brought together experimentalists and theorists from all over the world, just outside the alpine village of les Houches. The participants all lived together, went to lectures together and in between ate cheese on hikes together. This kind of proximity meant we had plenty of opportunities to talk to each other and I now have a much better understanding of the physics I’m studying. The conference closed with an excellent talk by von Klitzing on the history of the quantum Hall effect and some of the more recent work he has done – a nice way to finish discussions on the field that had since exploded.

Up next was probability, and luckily the probability group at Bristol were hosting a week long workshop as soon as I got back. The topic was using probability to get results about quantum systems – exactly what I’m thinking about. This was followed by another workshop in Oxford on recent work in the field and lots of inspiring ideas. I met another student there who had been at les Houches and had explained a lot about Hofstadter’s butterfly to me. He told me that he was trying to compare some electron states he had found to a mathematical object called a Jack polynomial. He couldn’t generate these things on his computer and so it was taking a long time, but I realised that Bristol had a resident expert on Jack polynomials and sure enough she knew a computer program that could do what he needed. Lucky coincidences like this made me appreciate even more the importance of travelling.  Now I’m back where I started in July, with the same problem to do, but a few more tools to tackle it and am looking forward to this term.

The last year…and out of the other side

Photo of Richard BuddRichard Budd was awarded his PhD in September 2014, having successfully defended his thesis a few weeks beforehand. Based in the Graduate School of Education, he conducted a comparative case study of how German and English undergraduates understood and negotiated their respective higher education contexts. This required implementing a qualitative research design, conducting in-depth interviews with students at universities in each country. 

The last year of my doctorate presented challenges far beyond the intellectual. I started a part-time research assistant role a few months after my three-year scholarship ended, and this was then supplemented by an inter-university project coordination role a month later. Having the thesis, working full time, and having a young family, meant that I was working overtime for what seemed like an eternity. The workload was hellish, but I was still in love with my project; shaping it into a coherent narrative while reflecting on my academic development brought immense satisfaction, and this, along with supervisory support and desperately wanting to be finished, kept me going.

Tracking back a year from the end, I had finished the analysis and had well over half the thesis written. I presented some of the findings at a conference in the autumn and thought I‘d be done by Christmas. I’d underestimated how much was still to do by some margin! Some chapters were far from polished, while others were far too big, and it took me until the end of March to get to a full draft. By that point I’d been beavering away for 20-30 hours a week in addition to work, plus trying to be involved in family life. I had a little respite while my supervisors chewed through the draft, then it was another three months of the same. Draft Mark I went through various incarnations until it reached Mark III, and even then there were weeks of tweaking and tuning. Having thought for long periods that I was never going to be done, I worked through a final list of changes and suddenly, it seemed, it was off my desk.

One of the big problems for me over this period was not knowing where the finishing line was. Trying to work out what ‘enough’ might look like is pretty hard. Your supervisors have a good idea, but it is a tricky thing to articulate. Overall, in addition to the thesis being original and your own work, it has to be presented as a coherent, appropriately justified argument, and you need to know where it sits in the field/literature. These are big questions, and I’ve broken them down in more detail elsewhere: see ‘Unpacking the viva’ at ddubdrahcir.wordpress.com.

After submitting in July, I left it alone it for over a month. I needed to reconnect with family life, sleep, and revel in not feeling guilty for loafing about aimlessly in my free time. Free time! A few weeks before the viva, I read it through again. This was initially not very helpful, in that — in addition to the typos — I’d had time to reflect on the whole from a distance; you can’t do this just before submission because you’re too close, too caught up in the detail. I spent a few days worrying about how I could — should — have improved it, and one piece of advice really helped. This was that a PhD was always imperfect. It is supposed to be as far as you can go in the given time frame, and if you tried to perfect it, you’d never hand it in.

By the morning of the viva, I’d worked through rafts of potential questions and felt that I could answer them with confidence. Looking back, this was when I somehow knew that I’d (probably) pass; being able to field those questions made me realise the scale, depth and nuance I’d achieved in the thesis. The chief remaining question was the extent of the corrections: how much would be left to do? I was comfortable in the knowledge that I could have done some things differently; being aware of the pros and cons of all of your decisions over the lifecycle of the project is a key part of the process, not a sign of failure. I spent the morning talking it all through with a friend, and this warm-up — without any pressure — really helped. By the time I walked into the viva itself I was internally contorted with apprehensive tension, but then it got going and I was too busy thinking on my feet to have space for nerves. The defence took about two hours, although it felt like far less. The first half was heavy going and very challenging, but after a while it developed into something more conversational, a healthy exchange and discussion. After a brief break at the end, I was invited back in, was told I’d passed, and had pretty minor corrections.

The corrections took a (very long) day and now, a month after the viva, it has sunk in. At first I couldn’t believe that it was over, that this ‘thing’ I’d been gestating for years no longer needed any attention. I also missed it. There are publications and presentations to come, but the thesis itself is finished. Having it behind you is a serious fillip, a sign of being accepted into the academic ranks. It goes some way to assuaging the ‘imposter syndrome’ that I felt most of the way through my doctorate, that I was woefully short of some of the stuff I was reading, and my unmasking as an imbecile could come any minute. I’m still a little self-conscious about being ‘Dr Budd’, not quite used to wearing it, but it’s a marker of having changed. I’m intellectually unrecognisable from the person who walked into my first supervision meeting, and that’s the point of the whole exercise.

Belonging in archives

Wingrove_1Louise Wingrove is a third-year postgraduate researcher in the department of Drama: Theatre, Film and Television. Her research is focused on how the lives of working women were represented by serio-comediennes on the Victorian music-hall stage, using the characters and careers of Jenny Hill (1848-1896) and Bessie Bellwood (1856-1896) as case studies.  Most of her research is archive based, piecing together long lost careers, songs and venues through files of reviews, photographs and sheet music.

I didn’t do GCSE history, deciding on Geography after being told by my teacher that those with a nervous disposition should avoid the tales of war told on the syllabus.  At college and university, my focus was whole-heartedly on Theatre and Music; with Literature and Psychology guest starring, but still the worlds of Sociology, History and Politics never really came into play.  Theatre was my all – the immediacy, the audience, the buzz of writing and directing.  So, following some dabbling in stand-up comedy at the age of 18, my choice to do a PhD stemmed from a fascination with audience psychology and the exploration of the reasons why women are so often deemed “not funny.”  It combined all my key interests and I was passionate about it.  But all that changed with one small exercise:  “Look back through the decades to the roots of modern stand-up comedy and note how womens styles have changed throughout.”

I had never been to an archive.  I had no idea how to access catalogues, who to email for help, or even how to log and organise the data I found.  However, as time progressed, and with the help of many a patient archivist, I started piecing it together and what I found gave me a bigger buzz than I could have ever expected.  The first time I saw actual newspaper cuttings and photographs of Jenny Hill I felt as if doing a PhD – well – made sense!  I had to find out more about the women I had found and I had to tell the world about them.  I had a responsibility to these women!  I became obsessed with trawling through newspapers to find what characters they performed as and how they were effected by social movements and events – the fight for Suffrage, the Married Women’s Property act and the Education Act.  How the Governments affected them and – more importantly – how they reflected and gave voices to working class women.

Luckily there have been many eureka moments for me in the archives, from the first time I met Jenny Hill and Bessie Bellwood in the archive boxes containing aspects of their lives and careers, to each moment I found a new piece of sheet music.  For every eureka moment I have had, there have been thousands of frustrating ones too, though.  The records lost, or too fragile, or seemingly non-existent.  But strangely they balance each other – keeping me going but stopping me from being complacent (and even more of a bore to those around me who have to hear every little detail!).  Last June, through the British Library’s online newspaper archive, I found an interview with Jenny Hill in the theatrical newspaper The Era.  In this she describes her famous character “The Coffee Shop Gal” and how she was based on a real girl working in a Shoreditch coffee house.  She and the composer wrote this song based on their observations made through visiting the same establishment constantly.  That, combined with her accounts of buying second-hand costumes and holidays with East-end girls, starts to uncover her observational working method and helps support my theory of her as an early observational comedienne.  I may have discovered this in June, but I still do a little happy dance whenever I re-read it! 

I think that, when considering ‘a year in the life of a PhD’, I look back over my last two years and see how quickly all your initial ideas and pre-conceptions can vanish, leaving you in a world of research that you never expected, or even wanted, and yet fits you so perfectly you can’t remember a time without it.

~ Louise Wingrove, PhD Candidate, Drama

A Year in the Life of a PhD

MontageHere at the BDC we work with postgraduate researchers from across the University, which means we get to meet a lot of interesting people! Every time we talk to someone about their research we are blown away by how interesting their project is. The breadth of research at this University is truly impressive! In the past few weeks alone, we have had conversations with postgraduate researchers about everything from Thucydides’ description of the Sicilian expedition, to exploring bladder function with a group of young urologists. While the distinct topics of research are always fascinating, we are often struck by the similarities between such diverse projects. Completing a PhD, whether you work in a lab or a library, involves a lot of the same processes, including creation and analysis of data, time management, work-life balance, working with a supervisor, and getting research published.

One of the things that we regularly hear from our researchers is how little they knew about what a PhD would be like before they started.  Passion for your subject is often what leads you to apply for a PhD programme. This passion is then reinforced throughout your studies by the ‘Eureka!’ moments you experience when you unlock a new protein, or translate a particularly difficult passage of text.  And having a paper accepted for publication, or forging new connections at a conference, are markers of entry into the academic community. However, enthusiasm for your research project can often blind you to the realities of the process.  What goes on in the background is a lot of hard work, long hours slogging through data, feelings of isolation and self-doubt, and far too often, no clear career prospects once completed. It is your enthusiasm for your subject which will pull you through even the longest hours in the lab.

While everyone’s experience is unique, what is universal is that completing a doctoral degree is not a smooth journey. There will undoubtedly be ups and downs along the way.  It is important to recognise that others have felt the same and that you are not alone. While much of your research may be completed in isolation, according to the specialised nature of your project, you are part of a dynamic research community. It’s time you met some of your colleagues!

We’ve brought together a diverse group of researchers, each completing a doctoral degree across a range of subjects, and at various points in their studies. Each of these researchers will provide unique insight into what completing a PhD is like, as they share their experiences from week to week.

Brushing up on our skills

Over the past several months we have been busy conducting an audit of skills training resources and opportunities across the University, in order to produce a coordinated skills training programme for all PGRs. This audit has largely been completed and we are now in the process of planning the core skills training programme for the upcoming academic year. However, we are aware that what we consider to be essential training for you might not be what you actually want and need. As such, we would really appreciate your feedback and guidance on both centralised and local skills training provision. Please send us your comments on the events, seminars and workshops we have run this year, so that we can get a sense of what worked, what didn’t, and how we might improve upon what we’ve done as we plan next year’s activities.

A Day in the Life of a PhD

University of Bristol

Ever wondered what it’s like to do a PhD? The University of Bristol is featuring in a UK-wide campaign this week [9 – 15 June] to highlight the value and importance of university research to our everyday lives.

As a special feature of Bristol’s Universities week activities, PhD students from across the University are taking to Facebook and Twitter, Instagram and YouTube, to provide unique insight into their day, showcasing their work and revealing exactly what life is like for a PhD student. Follow #brisphdlife and https://www.tagboard.com/brisphdlife to keep track of their activities. 

How does the BDC impact the daily life of PhD candidates? We provide support and guidance on all aspects of the PhD, from working with your supervisor to accessing skills training. Check out our website for more info: http://www.bristol.ac.uk/doctoral-college/

And if you have any ideas of how we could get involved in your research project or special event please let us know. We’d love to hear from you and find out how you think we’re doing, and any suggestions you might have for how we can improve our postgraduate support.

Three Minute Thesis (3MT)

3MT Finalists abbrev

‘To pee or not to pee’, was the subject of the winning presentation at the University of Bristol’s inaugural
Three Minute Thesis competition – a global academic competition designed to improve participants’ presentation and communication skills and raise awareness of their research area, as it challenges postgraduate researchers to present their 80,000-word theses in just three minutes.

Dominika Bijos was named the winner in a close-fought affair as 10 finalists took to the stage in the Anson Rooms, in front of a packed audience.

This was Bristol’s first foray into the 3MT competition and we would like to know what you thought worked, what didn’t work, and what we could improve upon for next year.

Festival of Postgraduate Research

festival-of-postgraduate-research_web_banner

The Festival of Postgraduate Research took place on Friday 21st February 2014 and included stands run by postgraduate researchers and University services alongside a range of research posters, breakout presentations and workshops.

As we consider what went well and what we could improve for next year, we would welcome your feedback. If you attended or took part in the Festival let us know what you think we should repeat again next year, or what you feel we could do differently. If you chose not to attend, we would be interested to hear your thoughts on what would make it more appealing to you.