Do Not Disturb

by Robert Wodrow
Chronicle of Higher Education
Wednesday, June 14, 2006

The old adage, "It's not what you know, it's whom," is usually true, but as a doctoral student I've found that it's a lot easier to get to know the"what" than the "whom."

The "whom" I'm referring to in this case is the perfect mentor -- the one every serious graduate student imagines, the Tuesdays With Morrie type who eagerly passes on hard-earned wisdom and whose door is always open. As doctoral students, we all long for that one professor who will offer research and writing opportunities and willingly assist in the creation of a new career.

And who can blame us? We've seen the movies with teachers standing on their desks shouting "carpe diem!" We want someone to show us the way. So it's reasonable to assume that by the time we reach the level of Ph.D. candidate, we should have met that perfect mentor, right? Or at least a close approximation?

I've learned over the course of my graduate work that the great mentors are not always where you think they are.

Back in my undergraduate years, I remember seeing star professors scurrying through the hallways, hoping to ditch students who haunted them like Grateful Dead groupies. I wanted to get to know those professors, see what made them tick, ask them the hard questions, and generally allow their genius to rub off on me -- but their obvious need for space and time to do their research kept me away.

Sure, there were always professors willing to give advice, but they were not necessarily the ones the students fawned over. So my questions went unanswered and I remained somewhat directionless.

The best advice I got about choosing a graduate school came not from a professor but from a fellow student. No matter where you go, he said, you'll be required to read certain books by certain professors, so why not just apply to their departments and take courses directly with those professors? So I did.

I met my mentor in the first class of my first semester of my master's program. The professor made a point of announcing that, when the time came for us to seek references for teaching positions or Ph.D. programs, he could write a good recommendation only if we had taken the time to get to know him. He considered mentorship as much his work as research, and he would invest in us -- if we took the initiative.

I scheduled a meeting with him and soon became his teaching and research assistant. There's no glory in grading papers and compiling bibliographies for other people's books, but there is a lot to be learned from it. (And it's nice when you get a mention in a footnote or in the acknowledgments.) As a book-review editor for a journal, my professor gave me publishing opportunities and special attention that helped me improve as a writer. Red ink became my friend.

I learned a great deal from that scholar in the two years I worked for him. But when I decided to tackle a Ph.D., I made the mistake of choosing a program at another institution several states away.

I entered my doctoral program imagining the possibilities. This would, after all, be the last leg of my journey, and I hoped to find another mentor like my first -- someone who would be there to point out opportunities and provide direction. As soon as I arrived, I found the newest professor on the campus in my department, who also happened to be my assigned adviser, and offered to be his research assistant. He gave me the job.

Then I waited for him to assign me some work. For months, he sent nothing my way. I was his only assistant, so surely I was going to get a chance to prove myself, I thought. Some dignified begging led him to assign me a couple short-lived projects.

Daily, I watched that professor dash madly through the halls, refusing to make eye contact with students. He started posting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door for days at a time, which eventually became a permanent fixture. He did not post his office hours or his syllabi on his door. He rarely returned e-mail messages. Several faculty members in the department began to follow suit, even placing coats over their windows so we couldn't tell if they were in.

I wasn't the only student perpetually perplexed as to when I could meet with my adviser. I paid for this program, I thought, and I'm going to get what I need. I ignored the sign and knocked on his door anyway. I sent e-mail messages and follow-up e-mails.

But a second "Do Not Disturb" sign appeared above the first. Fellow students who couldn't get his attention began stopping by my desk in the library instead.

Suddenly I had plenty of work to do: I became a pseudo-faculty adviser for his students on everything from how to cite sources to how to prepare for comprehensive exams. His Ph.D. candidates looking to get published asked me how to proceed. Others approached me with questions about how to format their CV's, what makes a good dissertation proposal, or what professional organizations they should join.

I was still disturbed by the lack of advice coming from our paid advisers. But I discovered that while I was assisting fellow students, I was doing more than hungering after my own career; I was starting it.

I suddenly understood what made my former mentor love his job as much as he did. I even found sympathy for my current adviser's lack of time.

When I realized that my Ph.D. adviser was not going to help me except under duress, I turned to my former mentor for advice. I didn't want to overwhelm him, since he was no longer paid to be my adviser, but to my surprise, he was eager to continue to give me direction. We collaborated on projects, and he gave me opportunities to meet others in our field. Students in my department began to ask if they could e-mail questions to him, and eventually he found himself serving as a mentor at two institutions. All the while, he managed to publish several books and articles.

I learned a few things from that experience.

To my fellow students, I would say:

What good is a big name leading your department if that big name refuses to get to know you? When you visit a graduate school as a prospective student, see how many professors show up at the orientation meetings, and if any are from your department. Ask how they mentor students and what they typically do to help students jump-start their careers.

Meet with other students in that program and ask if they have found mentors there or if they struggle to get past the "Do Not Disturb" signs.

Recognize that your professors are both mentors and scholars. They must publish or put their careers on the line. Try to be aware of how you are using your time with them. Are you just chatting or really building a relationship? Want to have good one-on-one time? Invite your professor to lunch or dinner in some appropriate venue. Bring another student or two along, and you can even split the bill.

To professors, I would ask:

Post regular office hours where they can be seen. (That may seem like common sense, but apparently it's not.) Instead of a "Do Not Disturb" sign, post a meeting sign-up sheet on your office door. Students who can sign up for a 15-minute slot during your designated office hours are less likely to break into those precious hours reserved for your research.

Don't forget that students, especially frustrated ones, talk about professors. You can't be everything to everyone, but you can offer decent "customer service." It's a form of flattery for students to seek your professional advice. More often than not, we just want to know who you are. We really do.

Robert Wodrow is the pseudonym of a doctoral student in religion at an institution in the East.