SmugSnugInARug

I think its worth putting out a word of warning about this kind of conversation regarding the question of mental health.

Graduate programs are extremely stressful environments and philosophy is no exception. Unfortunately, the mental health of graduate students faces a few serious challenges:
     1. First there is a the problem of over-identification with one's discipline. As the work/leisure distinction has collapsed over the past few decades (see, for example, the Google model & playbor), it can be hard to separate one's personal work from free time. Strangely enough, philosophy was a discipline that precisely began in leisure time, and yet with the professionalization of philosophy (and the subsequent corporatization of the academy), philosopher students are often trapped in the bind of over-identifying too much with their profession and as a result it makes it extremely difficult to maintain the work/leisure division that is necessary for mental health.
     2. One of the byproducts of this is that many philosophy students derive their 'self-worth' from their perceived academic standing in their peer groups. As the divide between work/leisure collapses philosophy students consistently treat their social time with other students as in this nebulous space, often feeling a need to overstate how much work they are actually doing or accomplishing. This is particularly common when students inevitably compare themselves to others in the field/profession and as a mode of compensation they often self-describe in ideal terms (which are usually unsustainable amounts of work). [Here contemporary articles that draw on Lacan's Mirror Stage and Imago re: instagram/social media would be helpful.] Of course, because this is intellectual labor, down time is extremely necessary. As the environment spirals into students comparing themselves with others purported clams about the amount of work they accomplish, it benefits absolutely no-one.
     3. As a result of this kind of setting, answering the question about how much effort and time people spend on their work each week becomes a question loaded with psychological stakes that I'm sure the author of this question didn't intent to invoke. It is not a neutral question and the answers we give to it are not neutral. They are directly related to the mental health of our fellow cohorts, our fellow students, and even our potential fellow co-workers or interlocutors.

In a certain way my answer to the original question is something like this:
With respect to time management, I would echo @hector549, make sure you are not treating work as the sole criterion for how to organize your time. Make sure you organize your life, with clear distinctions between leisure and labor. I work full-time as an adjunct professor, but I still manage to take my dog to the park every day for an hour or so. And if you want to read three other books that have nothing to do with classes you are taking, or prepare ahead of time for something, go ahead and do that, but recognize that you are doing so on your own leisure time. Not on your work time. And you need to be very careful to separate the two.

I’m gonna just try to run a bit against the grain, if only because you mentioned BC and Continental programs.
The short version is this: I know for a fact that some members of continental program acceptance committees DO use the verbal GRE score in deciding whether your application goes to a single professor to read, or to every professor.
A high score doesn’t guarantee entry, but it can drastically increase your chances when you are being reviewed by several professors rather than one.
I have been specifically told by faculty who work in these committees that top verbal scores are absolutely important. Regardless of how indicative they actually are. The recommendation I received was to try to get a 167 or higher (depending on the year).
 

Someone developed a site that worked off of data from GradCafe that listed average GRE scores for different institutions/programs/years. Unfortunately I never bookmarked it, however somebody else may have a link. Suffice to say, many of those who were offered admission at PGR top 30 programs regularly scored correspondingly higher (165+). That being said, due to the high level of competition in admissions several people with such scores were also denied admission. Speaking personally, my scores were 159Q 162V 4.5W iirc and I was lucky enough to land in such a program (waitlisted at one other, fwiw), so you're likely on the right track, if not fine where you're at. Are your scores from an official test, or one of the practice ones? Additionally, if you have the funds, I don't think it would hurt to take the test twice (if you haven't already), especially if you've targeted weak spots and improved upon them in practice. I took the SAT twice in high school and did something like 180 points better the second go around, but with the GRE I only improved by about 3 points (1Q, 2V). YMMV
I was able to speak with a chair who said that his program specifically (other institutions may vary) used it as a preliminary quasi cut-off for how critically they'd look at applications: higher scores got put into a "make sure to give these people a good read" pile, while average-to-lower scores were left together. Part of the rationale was to identify top applicants early on in order to give them offers earlier than other schools, hoping that they bite. Every application, he assured me, certainly got read with some care. I might add, when I attended one institution's prospective students' event the professors with whom I spoke who also happened to be on the committee immediately remembered my WS or my LORs when I introduced myself. These things give you personality that the GRE simply can't convey, which is why the GRE holds a significantly lower (though still necessary) importance in the application. As Hector remarked above, so long as your scores are not alarmingly low there is no reason for a program to reject you if the rest of your application is competitively strong.

I’m gonna just try to run a bit against the grain, if only because you mentioned BC and Continental programs.
The short version is this: I know for a fact that some members of continental program acceptance committees DO use the verbal GRE score in deciding whether your application goes to a single professor to read, or to every professor.
A high score doesn’t guarantee entry, but it can drastically increase your chances when you are being reviewed by several professors rather than one.
I have been specifically told by faculty who work in these committees that top verbal scores are absolutely important. Regardless of how indicative they actually are. The recommendation I received was to try to get a 167 or higher (depending on the year).
 

They're full of shit. People in grad school are always posturing about how hard they work, but that's all it is. They've got some screwed up idea of what the perfect grad student is, and they constantly fail to meet it, and it wreaks havoc with their brain chemistry. 
Being a good student really isn't inconsistent with maintaining a healthy work-life balance. I was a great grad student: I published two papers in top specialist journals, presented at dozens of conferences, won awards, networked like hell, audited all kinds of classes, TAed every semester, applied for hundreds of jobs, etc. It didn't require me to give up on any hobbies or other fun stuff. And I'm not at all exceptional in that respect. Take the time to do your own thing. It'll help enormously with all the negative crap. Just don't let yourself get too distracted from your end goal!
As for making time for reading, I do most of mine on public transit, or for about an hour in bed at night. I often read during the day, too, but that's mostly down to how I feel in the moment. 
One word of advice: breaking your tasks down into smaller chunks and spreading them over time is way more effective than putting in whole days at a time. Read just one article a day, and by the end of a month that's a whole course's worth of reading; write an hour a day, and after a year you've got a draft of a dissertation, or after a few weeks, you've got a paper to send to conferences and journals; and so on.
The trick is to be consistent, and not to overload yourself with just one task. I try to write for about an hour a day (some days I get excited and it's more, and some days I lose the thread, but on the whole that's pretty much what it averages out to). I do that relatively early in the day, and then it doesn't matter what else I do that day; the pressure's off. I can take an hour or so to read a paper, too, and then that's two big things down. After that, the rest of the day is boring admin work, emails, course prep, whatever. And fun stuff.

I am sorry to hear. It is quite heartbreaking.
I know you'll already be asking yourself over and over what you need to fix and improve, or whether to invest in applying again.
Let me say this: whatever your choice for next year, remember your worth is not bound up in decision letters. You're more than your grades, recommendations, written samples, or standardized test scores. Your anxiety over the process is normal and legitimate. Your lack of offer does not mean you are incompetent. You can still love philosophy as a professional or as an amateur/well-invested hobbist, even if someone else did not choose to invest in you this time. Don't settle for a life that you know you cannot live with. You can face another round if you really want to; shut-outs are not uncommon.

As in ‘Seale intended to be a sexual predator’.

As in ‘Seale intended to be a sexual predator’.

Now that we are past April 15th I suppose most of us know the outcome of this application season. I applied to 6 PhD programs, was rejected by 4 of them and waitlisted by 2, only to be informed yesterday that all slots have been filled. After months of waiting it was heartbreaking to be shut out in that way! But I guess there are many more of you out there who have been shut out for the season, so starting this thread for those who would like to share their story of being shut out.

Accepted an offer at Baylor. Really excited for this fall, and kind of in shock that this whole process is finally over.

Can finally post here as well.. Just got word I was accepted off the waitlist at Fordham. Absolutely stoked. 

Searle's research interest is being a perv.

I have accepted my offer at Duquesne University, with a final score 2a/1w/4r.
AOI - Phil. Music, Plato, Deleuze, Aesthetics.
Extremely excited to work at a program with like 4 scholars who all work on large portions of my interests. Basically been my top choice since I started applying.

Thank you! Yeah, they have been incredibly responsive and the people seem just really respectful of the difficulties that applicants are going through in the process. I’m really glad you’ve been successful this cycle, its heartwarming to see people in this forum do well.

I skimmed this thread and didn't see this posted: ask yourself if what most intrigues you in philosophy is done in other departments. I think this mostly applies to continental applicants. As you can see, I applied pretty widely across the humanities and social sciences and looked for programs not based solely on the label of the department, but, rather, based upon what sort of substantive work is going on in those departments. Applicants who work mainly in continental thought yet only apply to philosophy programs may be missing out on a range of options in comparative literature, political theory, and cultural studies to name just a few avenues worth investigating. 

Only got the one acceptance (and two waitlists), but luckily it was my top choice! I'm finishing up an MA at Boston College, and I'm thrilled to continue on to their PhD.

Trust me, I understand the sentiment, and I'm thankful for the candor. I felt a bit robbed of the possibility, and understand there is some romanticizing/nostalgia going on. I do think that my stated reasons are worth it, however. Of course, I'd love to teach, and I'd teach anywhere if provided that opportunity, but I don't believe I understated the value that a graduate education has on continued access to academia as well as future collaborators. There is simply more opportunity with than without. Now are these opportunities financially profitable? Doubtful, but perhaps worth it nonetheless. 
I've moved around my entire life, and I've grown accustomed to it. I don't have, nor plan on children. At the moment, my life will be what it is for the foreseeable future with likely opportunity for career growth in a field I am skilled in and tolerate. That's more than a lot of folks, I get that, and I'm not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth. If this risk proves an abject failure, It wouldn't take much to get back into the swing of things in my current career. If even remotely successful, I'd have my graduate education, new colleagues, hopefully some collaborators, probably some debt, and I'll probably find myself competing for comm. coll. teaching gigs, not get them, smile and thank them for the opportunity. 
All this to say, I understand the risks, but I feel my values, attitude, and current place in life welcome these very risks. 

Just declined Western Ontario's Theory and Criticism PhD. (I know its not strictly philosophy, but its where a lot of people do Continental work, so just posting it here.)

Declined an offer from Western Ontario's Theory and Criticism program. Like @SmugSnugInARug mentioned, it is a place where much continental thought is done so I think it merits posting here.

I CAN FINALLY POST HERE Y'ALL. Accepted at Baylor!

I think its worth putting out a word of warning about this kind of conversation regarding the question of mental health.

Graduate programs are extremely stressful environments and philosophy is no exception. Unfortunately, the mental health of graduate students faces a few serious challenges:
     1. First there is a the problem of over-identification with one's discipline. As the work/leisure distinction has collapsed over the past few decades (see, for example, the Google model & playbor), it can be hard to separate one's personal work from free time. Strangely enough, philosophy was a discipline that precisely began in leisure time, and yet with the professionalization of philosophy (and the subsequent corporatization of the academy), philosopher students are often trapped in the bind of over-identifying too much with their profession and as a result it makes it extremely difficult to maintain the work/leisure division that is necessary for mental health.
     2. One of the byproducts of this is that many philosophy students derive their 'self-worth' from their perceived academic standing in their peer groups. As the divide between work/leisure collapses philosophy students consistently treat their social time with other students as in this nebulous space, often feeling a need to overstate how much work they are actually doing or accomplishing. This is particularly common when students inevitably compare themselves to others in the field/profession and as a mode of compensation they often self-describe in ideal terms (which are usually unsustainable amounts of work). [Here contemporary articles that draw on Lacan's Mirror Stage and Imago re: instagram/social media would be helpful.] Of course, because this is intellectual labor, down time is extremely necessary. As the environment spirals into students comparing themselves with others purported clams about the amount of work they accomplish, it benefits absolutely no-one.
     3. As a result of this kind of setting, answering the question about how much effort and time people spend on their work each week becomes a question loaded with psychological stakes that I'm sure the author of this question didn't intent to invoke. It is not a neutral question and the answers we give to it are not neutral. They are directly related to the mental health of our fellow cohorts, our fellow students, and even our potential fellow co-workers or interlocutors.

In a certain way my answer to the original question is something like this:
With respect to time management, I would echo @hector549, make sure you are not treating work as the sole criterion for how to organize your time. Make sure you organize your life, with clear distinctions between leisure and labor. I work full-time as an adjunct professor, but I still manage to take my dog to the park every day for an hour or so. And if you want to read three other books that have nothing to do with classes you are taking, or prepare ahead of time for something, go ahead and do that, but recognize that you are doing so on your own leisure time. Not on your work time. And you need to be very careful to separate the two.

I think its worth putting out a word of warning about this kind of conversation regarding the question of mental health.

Graduate programs are extremely stressful environments and philosophy is no exception. Unfortunately, the mental health of graduate students faces a few serious challenges:
     1. First there is a the problem of over-identification with one's discipline. As the work/leisure distinction has collapsed over the past few decades (see, for example, the Google model & playbor), it can be hard to separate one's personal work from free time. Strangely enough, philosophy was a discipline that precisely began in leisure time, and yet with the professionalization of philosophy (and the subsequent corporatization of the academy), philosopher students are often trapped in the bind of over-identifying too much with their profession and as a result it makes it extremely difficult to maintain the work/leisure division that is necessary for mental health.
     2. One of the byproducts of this is that many philosophy students derive their 'self-worth' from their perceived academic standing in their peer groups. As the divide between work/leisure collapses philosophy students consistently treat their social time with other students as in this nebulous space, often feeling a need to overstate how much work they are actually doing or accomplishing. This is particularly common when students inevitably compare themselves to others in the field/profession and as a mode of compensation they often self-describe in ideal terms (which are usually unsustainable amounts of work). [Here contemporary articles that draw on Lacan's Mirror Stage and Imago re: instagram/social media would be helpful.] Of course, because this is intellectual labor, down time is extremely necessary. As the environment spirals into students comparing themselves with others purported clams about the amount of work they accomplish, it benefits absolutely no-one.
     3. As a result of this kind of setting, answering the question about how much effort and time people spend on their work each week becomes a question loaded with psychological stakes that I'm sure the author of this question didn't intent to invoke. It is not a neutral question and the answers we give to it are not neutral. They are directly related to the mental health of our fellow cohorts, our fellow students, and even our potential fellow co-workers or interlocutors.

In a certain way my answer to the original question is something like this:
With respect to time management, I would echo @hector549, make sure you are not treating work as the sole criterion for how to organize your time. Make sure you organize your life, with clear distinctions between leisure and labor. I work full-time as an adjunct professor, but I still manage to take my dog to the park every day for an hour or so. And if you want to read three other books that have nothing to do with classes you are taking, or prepare ahead of time for something, go ahead and do that, but recognize that you are doing so on your own leisure time. Not on your work time. And you need to be very careful to separate the two.

I think its worth putting out a word of warning about this kind of conversation regarding the question of mental health.

Graduate programs are extremely stressful environments and philosophy is no exception. Unfortunately, the mental health of graduate students faces a few serious challenges:
     1. First there is a the problem of over-identification with one's discipline. As the work/leisure distinction has collapsed over the past few decades (see, for example, the Google model & playbor), it can be hard to separate one's personal work from free time. Strangely enough, philosophy was a discipline that precisely began in leisure time, and yet with the professionalization of philosophy (and the subsequent corporatization of the academy), philosopher students are often trapped in the bind of over-identifying too much with their profession and as a result it makes it extremely difficult to maintain the work/leisure division that is necessary for mental health.
     2. One of the byproducts of this is that many philosophy students derive their 'self-worth' from their perceived academic standing in their peer groups. As the divide between work/leisure collapses philosophy students consistently treat their social time with other students as in this nebulous space, often feeling a need to overstate how much work they are actually doing or accomplishing. This is particularly common when students inevitably compare themselves to others in the field/profession and as a mode of compensation they often self-describe in ideal terms (which are usually unsustainable amounts of work). [Here contemporary articles that draw on Lacan's Mirror Stage and Imago re: instagram/social media would be helpful.] Of course, because this is intellectual labor, down time is extremely necessary. As the environment spirals into students comparing themselves with others purported clams about the amount of work they accomplish, it benefits absolutely no-one.
     3. As a result of this kind of setting, answering the question about how much effort and time people spend on their work each week becomes a question loaded with psychological stakes that I'm sure the author of this question didn't intent to invoke. It is not a neutral question and the answers we give to it are not neutral. They are directly related to the mental health of our fellow cohorts, our fellow students, and even our potential fellow co-workers or interlocutors.

In a certain way my answer to the original question is something like this:
With respect to time management, I would echo @hector549, make sure you are not treating work as the sole criterion for how to organize your time. Make sure you organize your life, with clear distinctions between leisure and labor. I work full-time as an adjunct professor, but I still manage to take my dog to the park every day for an hour or so. And if you want to read three other books that have nothing to do with classes you are taking, or prepare ahead of time for something, go ahead and do that, but recognize that you are doing so on your own leisure time. Not on your work time. And you need to be very careful to separate the two.

I think its worth putting out a word of warning about this kind of conversation regarding the question of mental health.

Graduate programs are extremely stressful environments and philosophy is no exception. Unfortunately, the mental health of graduate students faces a few serious challenges:
     1. First there is a the problem of over-identification with one's discipline. As the work/leisure distinction has collapsed over the past few decades (see, for example, the Google model & playbor), it can be hard to separate one's personal work from free time. Strangely enough, philosophy was a discipline that precisely began in leisure time, and yet with the professionalization of philosophy (and the subsequent corporatization of the academy), philosopher students are often trapped in the bind of over-identifying too much with their profession and as a result it makes it extremely difficult to maintain the work/leisure division that is necessary for mental health.
     2. One of the byproducts of this is that many philosophy students derive their 'self-worth' from their perceived academic standing in their peer groups. As the divide between work/leisure collapses philosophy students consistently treat their social time with other students as in this nebulous space, often feeling a need to overstate how much work they are actually doing or accomplishing. This is particularly common when students inevitably compare themselves to others in the field/profession and as a mode of compensation they often self-describe in ideal terms (which are usually unsustainable amounts of work). [Here contemporary articles that draw on Lacan's Mirror Stage and Imago re: instagram/social media would be helpful.] Of course, because this is intellectual labor, down time is extremely necessary. As the environment spirals into students comparing themselves with others purported clams about the amount of work they accomplish, it benefits absolutely no-one.
     3. As a result of this kind of setting, answering the question about how much effort and time people spend on their work each week becomes a question loaded with psychological stakes that I'm sure the author of this question didn't intent to invoke. It is not a neutral question and the answers we give to it are not neutral. They are directly related to the mental health of our fellow cohorts, our fellow students, and even our potential fellow co-workers or interlocutors.

In a certain way my answer to the original question is something like this:
With respect to time management, I would echo @hector549, make sure you are not treating work as the sole criterion for how to organize your time. Make sure you organize your life, with clear distinctions between leisure and labor. I work full-time as an adjunct professor, but I still manage to take my dog to the park every day for an hour or so. And if you want to read three other books that have nothing to do with classes you are taking, or prepare ahead of time for something, go ahead and do that, but recognize that you are doing so on your own leisure time. Not on your work time. And you need to be very careful to separate the two.

I think its worth putting out a word of warning about this kind of conversation regarding the question of mental health.

Graduate programs are extremely stressful environments and philosophy is no exception. Unfortunately, the mental health of graduate students faces a few serious challenges:
     1. First there is a the problem of over-identification with one's discipline. As the work/leisure distinction has collapsed over the past few decades (see, for example, the Google model & playbor), it can be hard to separate one's personal work from free time. Strangely enough, philosophy was a discipline that precisely began in leisure time, and yet with the professionalization of philosophy (and the subsequent corporatization of the academy), philosopher students are often trapped in the bind of over-identifying too much with their profession and as a result it makes it extremely difficult to maintain the work/leisure division that is necessary for mental health.
     2. One of the byproducts of this is that many philosophy students derive their 'self-worth' from their perceived academic standing in their peer groups. As the divide between work/leisure collapses philosophy students consistently treat their social time with other students as in this nebulous space, often feeling a need to overstate how much work they are actually doing or accomplishing. This is particularly common when students inevitably compare themselves to others in the field/profession and as a mode of compensation they often self-describe in ideal terms (which are usually unsustainable amounts of work). [Here contemporary articles that draw on Lacan's Mirror Stage and Imago re: instagram/social media would be helpful.] Of course, because this is intellectual labor, down time is extremely necessary. As the environment spirals into students comparing themselves with others purported clams about the amount of work they accomplish, it benefits absolutely no-one.
     3. As a result of this kind of setting, answering the question about how much effort and time people spend on their work each week becomes a question loaded with psychological stakes that I'm sure the author of this question didn't intent to invoke. It is not a neutral question and the answers we give to it are not neutral. They are directly related to the mental health of our fellow cohorts, our fellow students, and even our potential fellow co-workers or interlocutors.

In a certain way my answer to the original question is something like this:
With respect to time management, I would echo @hector549, make sure you are not treating work as the sole criterion for how to organize your time. Make sure you organize your life, with clear distinctions between leisure and labor. I work full-time as an adjunct professor, but I still manage to take my dog to the park every day for an hour or so. And if you want to read three other books that have nothing to do with classes you are taking, or prepare ahead of time for something, go ahead and do that, but recognize that you are doing so on your own leisure time. Not on your work time. And you need to be very careful to separate the two.