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| Look at me, trying to make smart purchases... |
I was lucky when it came to affording life as a Ph.D. student.
After finishing my undergrad and M.A. (at a pricey but reputable school), I worked for three years at a decent job and paid off my undergrad loans before starting my Ph.D. I also worked nights and weekends during that time at what will always be my favorite job, a gift shop in The Mission that paid minimum wage but came with wine on the weekends.
During the Ph.D. program I worked my 50% TAship and occasional extra gigs—readerships, writing tutoring, etc. I had some money saved up from previous years so that I didn't have to take out a loan. My "rent" was a mortgage that my parents and I were paying off together, even though my share was less than half the going rate for the condo in which I lived.
In short, I got lucky. I was lucky enough to have TAships and other financial support while at UCSD. I had a background that empowered me to get into a college that enabled me to get a job (even if it took a few months after graduation). Of course, I worked (in multiple senses of the term) both before and during grad school. But in general, I got lucky.
But how
does one afford life as a Ph.D. student, especially in the humanities, a degree that takes five to seven (?) years to earn, when one is paid $2,000 a month (if that much) for nine months out of 12 (and when even
that isn't guaranteed)? How does one pay for rent, groceries, utilities, Internet, going out to eat, and picking up occasional treats? How does one support a family and cover medical expenses? How does one budget for conferences that require registration, airfare, and lodging? (And what is one expected to do during the "drought months" of August, September, and October?)
I think about this in terms of the overall scheme of "financial education" for growing up in the States (or anywhere else). Maybe some people are taught at a young age how to manage their money. Maybe some people get one of those kiddie accounts when they're young, and by the time they hit 18 they already have a few grand to their name. Maybe some people are trust fund babies.
But for a 1.5-generation immigrant kid whose family members got Green Cards just as her older sister was starting college, there was no "financial education". My family was ostensibly "middle class", even if we didn't know what that meant, with enough money to be comfortable but not enough to do anything with it.
The things I'm learning "to do with it" is a topic for a different post, but in talking with my friends in grad school and people who've yet to start their programs, I've decided what I would tell my own kids about affording life as a Ph.D. student:
"Work a real job first, then start a Ph.D. program."
I don't say this to be discouraging, or to suggest that this is the right and only way. (Oh, my poor children.) I've a good feeling that my kids would work through college and pay off their own debt. But I'd tell them also to go work a "real job" before pursuing grad school. (And, no, an M.A. program is not the kind of "real job" I'm talking about here.) It doesn't have to be one that gives them benefits (though that'd be nice) or gives them business cards (since that's an unforgivable waste of natural resources). I'd tell them to work at least one year, possibly two, maybe even three. I'd tell them to save up enough money to be able to live for three to six months with no other income (a.k.a. an "emergency fund"). I'd tell them to learn what it means to work with other people, where not pulling their weight means others have to pick up their slack. So that they'd understand that, in some industries, there are consequences to missing a deadline, not replying to emails, not keeping appointments. (They'd be fired.) I'd tell them to experience an alternative to grad school, so that they'd know what they were working toward in the first place. Then once they had that work experience and money saved up, I'd say to them, "OK kid,
now you're ready to
go be a starving grad student."
They might say, "But mum, it's really difficult to save up three to six months worth of living expenses." And they'd be right—but I'd tell them that it's not going to get any easier with a Ph.D., either. That looking for, finding, and keeping a job is difficult, whether you go to grad school or not.
But most of all, I'd tell them to work a real job before starting a Ph.D. program because I want them to
arm themselves. I want them to have the work experience, the financial resources, and the sense to be able to get through a Ph.D. program and the accompanying experience of being on the job market. I want them to arm themselves because there's a chance that no one else will be there to help them or to stand up for them. If they encounter a great mentor, I couldn't be happier; but even if advisors want them to get hired, even if departments want them to get fellowships, that doesn't always happen. And it's up to my kids to arm and defend themselves. (I also want them to see the professors around them doing all the things that would get them fired in any other job, and be able to say to themselves, "I'm not going to be that kind of a professor." Because they'd owe it to their colleagues and, more importantly, to their students.)
I don't believe that education, especially undergraduate education, is something that we should have to take out loans in order to get. A grad program may be a bit more iffy, but it sure isn't the kind of thing that should weigh people down with a 5-figure debt (or higher) upon completion. Without a doubt, there's a whole lot that the university (as well as the government) should be responsible for in making grad school affordable. But I also think that, if we're serious about doing a Ph.D., we have to be serious about being able to afford it as well—and we have to be professional and prepared enough so that we don't suffer our way through it.
