Jacqueline R. M. A. Maasch

Welcome to the hidden curriculum.

Advice on succeeding as a PhD student.
Reflections on what I know now and what I wish I had known sooner.

Note. This page is actively under construction.

Preface.

I began thinking explicitly about the hidden curriculum when I co-designed the first-year seminar for Cornell's computer science PhD program. This page contains my reflections as I approach graduation.

Note. Some of the opinions I share will be relevant across disciplines. It is likely that most of this advice is local to STEM PhDs, and specifically to computing PhDs. My experiences are unique. I can only speak from the vantage point of my own demographic (Millennial, white, not a man, from New England; three of my elders are professors). My career advice is implicitly geared to those who cannot rely on intergenerational wealth (as this informed my own calculus on urgency, security, success, and finances). Take everything with a grain of salt.

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So then, what is the hidden curriculum? This is effectively the insider information that can significantly contribute to your success as a doctoral student, yet is rarely explicitly discussed.

The hidden curriculum. The collection of unspoken, unofficial, and sometimes unintended lessons, values, and norms of the field that are learned in graduate school, as distinct from the formal academic curriculum.

Early access to the hidden curriculum is just one reason why people who grew up in proximity to PhDs often seem like they are "ahead of the game." These implicit keys-to-success can have real material impacts on your job placements and financial outcomes. They contribute to your social capital and cultural capital in the field. They can even have a technical impact on your science. These potential impacts shouldn't be underestimated.

Eustress versus distress.

The PhD will be stressful. Ideally, most of your stress will be eustress. Each of us experiences a unique proportion of distress as well. I think of eustress as Type I or Type II fun, while distress is Type III (aka, not fun at all). I will reference these concepts throughout.

Eustress. The positive stress response, involving optimal levels of stimulation: a type of stress that results from challenging but attainable and enjoyable or worthwhile tasks (e.g., participating in an athletic event, giving a speech). It has a beneficial effect by generating a sense of fulfillment or achievement and facilitating growth, development, mastery, and high levels of performance [APA 2023].

Distress. The negative stress response, often involving negative affect and physiological reactivity: a type of stress that results from being overwhelmed by demands, losses, or perceived threats. Distress triggers physiological changes that can pose serious health risks, especially if combined with maladaptive ways of coping [APA 2023].

Getting started.

Two of the biggest decisions you will make in the PhD are (1) where to go and (2) who to nomintate to your committee. Many personal and academic factors will inform these choices. Think deeply about your unique priorities. I'll propose two points to consider.

Selecting your institution, department, and committee does two things (among others):

Buys access to networks. This is the beginning of your social capital in the field. This isn't bought with money, but with your labor as a researcher – and, ideally, with the merit of your ideas. In exchange for doing excellent research for your advisors, you gain access to their networks. Choose your committee with this in mind. Strongly consider which intellectual, professional, and social communities a potential advisor can offer you (and which they cannot). In some cases, you can transcend the limitations of your advisor's networks by forging your own collaborations. I advise against betting on this option, as it is the more challenging route.
Buys access to ideas. You are the company you keep. Align yourself with likeminded researchers whom you admire. Good ideas are gatekept; they don't grow on trees. Your proximity to talent is extremely important for the quality of ideas you are exposed to. In turn, this will influence the ideas that you yourself develop and pursue in the PhD (and after). Start off on the best foot possible. It is natural (and often positive) to change research directions, explore new communities, etc., but the earlier that you "enter the gates," the faster you reach success.

During this decision-making process, envision your future. Where do graduates from your prospective program tend to wind up in life? Pay close attention to a potential advisor's placements (where their former students work after the PhD). Would you be happy with these placements? If possible, find out how directly involved the advisor was in attaining these placements. For example: Is this professor quick to recommend students to colleagues at prominent universities and companies? Are they generous with letter writing? Are they aware of the state of the job market, including competitiveness and in-demand skills? For some potential advisors, the answers to these questions are no. I advise against working with such people. Relatedly, I strongly encourage those whose work is interdisciplinary to nominate a chair (lead advisor) who is formally trained in and actively publishing in the discipline in which you are most likely to seek employment. Such advisors will be better connected and more culturally aware of the needs of a student in this area.

Technical and intellectual recommendations.

R1. Every idea you pursue is an opportunity cost. For the most part, you will express your ideas in the form of papers. Papers are your main currency as a PhD student. They are the primary evidence of your capabilities (along with accompanying artifacts, like open-source models, data, and code). They are the primary means by which you can develop skills on a very deep level. They are also a calling card for future employers. They can bring you interview offers and even fame. Never having published in a specific subarea can also get you rejected. Yet, you can only write finitely many papers during the PhD. Among my peers, it is normal to produce 3-7 lead author papers as a PhD student. You can't say yes to every idea (though you may be tempted). Every idea you pursue means leaving other ideas behind. Practice knowing when to say no. Balance your priorities wisely. Passion for the topic is important, as is social good and other broader impacts. However, so is the marketability of your papers when you enter the job market. If your primary goal is employment in a particular subfield, design your papers specifically with high impact, upskilling, and networking in this subfield in mind. Ask yourself: What do you want to be good at, and known for? Whose attention are you trying to catch?

R2. Get used to failure; fail fast and pivot. Early in my career, a senior professor told me that you have to be very comfortable with failure to succeed as a scientist. Experiments fail, hypotheses don't hold, code is often buggy, peer review can be harsh, paper rejections are frequent, grant funding is extremely competitive, and technical interviews are hard to pass. During the PhD, a successful PI consoled me after a paper rejection by saying “I get papers rejected every day!” This is normal, and those who aren't shaken by it are the ones who succeed. Avoid interpreting micro-failures as macro-failures. Do not take rejection as a commentary on your future potential or your self-worth. It is imperative to believe in the potential of your own ideas. You have to be your own champion. At the same time, know when to quit: not every idea is worth investing in long-term. “Fail fast” was one of the best pieces of advice I ever received from a colleague. Read the room and pivot gracefully.

More coming soon.

Career development recommendations.

Coming soon.

Personal life, health, and balance.