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Imposter Syndrome/Feelings of Inadequacy


Septerra

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Hello all. I have been a lurker on GradCafe for some months now, and I decided to join so I can take a more active role in some discourse. I wanted to post this topic in the History Forum because I suppose I would like to hear from my colleagues in the history field, although all graduate students' replies are welcome. I will be graduating with an MA this semester and have recently been admitted to a pretty decent (top 15) Russian history program, and am waiting on replies from 6 other schools of arguably higher rankings. I know I should be celebrating as I am close to the end of my thesis writing and I finally know that I will have a chance to go for the PhD. However, I am filled with a huge amount of stress. I completed my BA and MA at a state school not known for its history department. There were only a handful of us in my cohort, and most people study online for their MA in my program. However, I worked hard on my application (personal statement and writing sample) all through last semester, and I am so pleased to be admitted to this program (and possibly others). However, I am burdened by strong feelings of inadequacy.

This is most prevalent in the research and writing department. I do not think my research has been bad, but the area I struggle in is finesse. What I mean to say is, when I read published scholarly articles, I feel like my own prose is clunky and even childish by comparison. I work hard to incorporate words and phrases like "vis-a-vis," "ipso facto," and "transnational" when I can, but I often find myself feeling foolish for trying to turn a phrase. I also know that I have misused words and phrases on occasion, only to have it pointed out by my advisor.

The truth is, I have been very lucky to have an MA adivsor who worked very closely beside me, and made sure my application materials were up to snuff. We went through 5 or 6 drafts of my personal statement and writing sample before I submitted. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing I'd rather be doing and this really is the path that I want to pursue. However, I often feel that I am leagues away from being published. There are times when I want to phrase something in a sophisticated manner, but am stuck with the feeling one often gets when a word is on the tip of one's tongue and you can't quite recall it.

I do not doubt my work ethic or my desire to pursue a PhD in Russian history. Sometimes I simply worry that I am not intelligent enough. I look at it this way - someone can want to be a world-class swimmer with all their heart, but if they do not have the genetic propensity to become a world-class swimmer, they never quite will. I realize this is a rather Darwinist way of looking at things, but I can't help feeling that there is an element of natural talent one cannot really control.

I have written more this year than I ever have in my life, and I certainly can say that my analysis and prose has greatly in improved. However, I worry that I just don't have the natural talent that it takes to be successful at the PhD level. Does anyone/has anyone ever felt this way? If so, what steps did you take to overcome these feelings? Any advice is much welcomed and appreciated!

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Maybe this is just because I have been on both sides of the impostor syndrome feeling, but within academia, I am often more inclined to trust the academic talent of the less prestigiously-qualified half of any room. At this point in my life, my resume is nice and shiny. Graduated with honors, fancy college, whatever. Looks great on paper. When I got to my fancy college after a totally mediocre high school education, though, there were all these kids from prep schools even fancier than my college running around talking about their senior year thirty-page research projects (!) and their electives in tenth-year Japanese and jazz guitar, while my eyes bugged right out of my head at the idea of writing a college paper that was five whole pages long. What I learned over the seven years in which that transformation took place, and which I hope you will come to realize too, is that a glossy resume like mine has little to no correlation with intellectual depth. They may shine, but you are absolutely worthy of shining right along there with them. For an admissions committee to choose you, as one such excellent committee has already, means that they saw your talent. I don't want to give the impression that I think that all or even most students with more traditionally prestigious qualifications than yours are coasting by on a thin layer of polish and gloss. It happens, though, and because you are working for this, and working your way up, you should know that your admissions committee(s) chose you for you.

I don't think it's very helpful to think about this as a question of "talent," though, even though I just used that vocabulary. Instead, I find it much more effective to think of academia as a question of skill—skills can be nurtured and grown through practice, and a tremendous amount of academic practice is based not on talent, but on practiced skills. For the near future, for you, I think the rate at which you hone those skills is only going to accelerate. You mention that your analysis and prose have greatly improved in a year—it is really hard to make dramatic improvements once you're already at the top of your game. How many Olympians can easily shave 10 seconds off of their mile time? Not many. I probably could shave whole minutes off, though, with an investment of only a month or two, because right now I am a couch potato. I don't doubt that you'll have your work cut out for you in your PhD program, but (even beyond the fact that PhDs push even the most prestigiously-qualified student, so everybody should see their skills rapidly develop), the improvements you've been making make me feel even more certain that your skills haven't even come close to the peak you're going to end up attaining.

As a writing teacher, can I also make a more specific suggestion on your issues there?  It's much easier said than done, but can you try to relax a bit when you write? The most effective writing comes when people use words with which they are comfortable, whether that comfort is with "ain't" or "elucidate." Can you aim for that? If you feel limited by the words you currently know, it's a great idea to learn more—but don't go shoehorning weird new words in there to try to sound smarter. Expressing ideas simply and clearly is wicked hard, but it pays off in the reception of the work. (And sure, there's like .04% of the population that naturally speaks like books, and they're probably overrepresented such that they make up like 4% of academics. But here is a Macarthur-winning writer brainstorming with a childish ditty because hey sometimes the right words just aren't coming; Not being able to think of the right phrase immediately, all the time, is an affliction that besets all of humanity, even the geniuses!)

Maybe your right place has already accepted you! Maybe it hasn't, and you'll get into somewhere better. But, no matter where you end up, I hope you can find some of your own steps and ways of thinking about this so that you not only know in your head that you belong, but that you also feel it in your heart.

 

Edited by knp
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First of all, everyone goes through a sense of inadequacy at some point in grad school. You're in excellent company.

You have to be confident that programs accepted you because you have what it takes to succeed. They get plenty of talented applicants and from that large pool they spotted something particularly promising in your materials. I'd also like to give a shout out to all the state school grads! I got my MA at a state school that hadn't sent anyone to a PhD in like 3 years before I applied. The training there was amazing, though, and I still stay in touch with many of the faculty because they are wonderful. Don't let your state school lineage bring you down--some of the best scholars end up teaching at these campuses (which we could say is a reflection of the job market, but I feel like I lucked out getting excellent training for a fraction of the cost).

As to writing, I would suggest keeping your language simple, don't try to insert words just because they're trendy or sexy. If the words are awkward for you to write, they're going to be awkward to read. It's just as easy to write "in and of itself" as "ipso facto," and that might feel more natural to your voice as a writer. Also, we like these sophisticated phrases (my fave: raison d'etre), but when we fill our books with a bunch of academese and phrases in foreign languages, we are assuming the people we want to read our books understands what we're saying. Even I struggle with some of the academese I read, and I consider myself a fairly well-educated person. Simpler language isn't worse--it's more accessible. 

I've never had trouble with writing, and have even tutored others for years and years now (I would suggest doing this--tutoring GREATLY improved my writing because I actually had to think about why good writing is good), but everyone struggles with some aspect of the writing process. When I started my MA, some of my favorite professors tore my work apart and made me question if I ever had any talent at all. There was aggressive removal of passive voice, awkward sentences and words that I shouldn't have been using (because I thought finding sexy synonyms was smart--its only a good idea if you pick words that actually make sense, which I often didn't). What I'm trying to say is, you will improve the more you write, the more topics on which you write, the more people who comment on your work. Read an established historian's first book and read their most recent work--writing is a lifelong learning kind of thing, and everyone improves with practice, time and lots and lots of reading.

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Hey, no worries, I'm about to be finished with my Ph.D. and I still feel that way a lot of the time. Part of it in my case is being at a tiny school (and having come from a state school for undergrad like you have). The rest of it for me is probably just my personality and way of thinking though.

Probably the biggest thing that will help with those kinds of feelings is once you get started somewhere and start forming relationships with your fellow students; it helps to have a sense of belonging socially and that will, in my experience, carry over to the feeling that you belong intellectually as well. If you're accepted somewhere, like someone said upthread, it means that the people on the committee obviously thought you were good enough to do the kind of work that is required to finish a Ph.D., which you should absolutely interpret as a validation of your intellectual and analytical chops. 

Basically, I wouldn't sweat things like this so much at the stage you're at. You're still developing in terms of your analytical and writing skills; that's the whole point of completing a Ph.D. in the first place. Once things are in place for you, though, I think some of these negative feelings will subside and you'll feel more comfortable with yourself and your abilities.

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Thanks for your replies! It is one of those things where I have good days and bad days. I think part of it is personality as well (unfortunately, it is a trait I have). Most days I am excited and ready to meet the challenges ahead of me, and am so happy to be afforded the opportunity to pursue this path. Sometimes, however, those negative thoughts can really hard to overcome. Thanks again!

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17 hours ago, GradSecretary said:

Third, academics are terrible writers. There's an excellent booklet on the subject available here: http://chronicle.com/article/Why-Academics-Stink-at/149105/ In addition to laying out the argument that academics stink at writing, there are articles with tips on how to be a better writer.

Ugh, this is so true. I think maybe 1/10th of the academic papers I've read in my academic career were easy reads. The rest were horrendous slogs.

I think, to an extent, we all suffer from imposter syndrome. The longer I've been in school (and it's been a really long time now), the more I realize that being academically accomplished has more to do with dedication than brilliance. I'm certainly not brilliant, but I pride myself at the amount of effort I put into my research.

I'm just trying my best and if that's not good enough I'll face roadblocks that prevent me going further. Until I hit that point, I suppose I'm doing just fine.

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Can I just send some major thanks to all of you who commented on here? I've been feeling very imposter-y for the past 6 months (I'm on a Fulbright scholarship right now. Nothing like being surrounded by some of those people to make you feel truly insufficient. Wow.) Some of your comments have literally made me cry tears of relief. I'm feeling very validated right now. Best wishes to anyone else going through those emotions. I can only imagine they'll continue to come and go throughout the life of academia.

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