It's been a whole YEAR since I submitted my research proposal to the admissions team for my programme. Oh how I look back on that time with knowing sympathy already.
Rewind 12 months and there I am, beaming face, eyes filled with naive enthusiasm and hope as I digitally sign, seal and deliver what I truly believe to be my final project proposal, with the perfect research questions.
Soon after, April arrived and brought with it the wonderful news that my research plan had been accepted. All I needed to do was finish up my masters degree by the new academic year.
I arrived nervously in September to my new shared postgraduate office, shiny new laptop clamped under my arm and brimming with feverish excitement and concern for how best to decorate my desk screens to ensure that they accurately represented my personality. By the time of my first supervisor meeting however, I was prepared. Armed with potential subheadings for my literature review, titles of books I planned to read and a long list of conferences I wanted to attend, I strolled forth feeling confident, organised and in control.
Oh dear.
Why don't they tell you sooner that the proposal you pored all of your blood, sweat and tears into, the proposal you sacrificed your social life and emotional well being for, that that very proposal will serve only as a reminder of your absolute ineptitude for your chosen research field 12 months down the line?
"So what we're gonna get you to do is really open this research up. Read around this topic more broadly, pull the proposal apart and rebuild it in light of your findings. Think of these research questions as mannequins. They represent the foundations of what you need, but we need to dress them for a particular occasion, a particular purpose so to speak".
Yeah. So I'm still busy with that. I'll keep you updated.
Until next time,
Kath
x
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