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Enhancing a culture of research support for first-generation PhD students in social science fields

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Enhancing a Culture of Research Support for
First-Generation PhD Students in Social Science Fields

Matthew C. Stevens

Rossier School of Education
University of Southern California
A dissertation submitted to the faculty
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Education

August 2023

© Copyright by Matthew C. Stevens 2023
All Rights Reserved

The Committee for Matthew C. Stevens certifies the approval of this Dissertation

Patricia Tobey
Esther Kim
Eric Canny, Committee Chair

Rossier School of Education
University of Southern California
2023

iv
Abstract
Without support at critical stages of their development as scholars, first-generation PhD students
face greater challenges than their continuing-generation peers with research, writing, and
publishing, as well as securing tenure-track positions at R1 universities. As eight first-generation
PhD graduates in social science fields reported in this qualitative study, variations in graduate
student socialization impact research support, including quality of mentorship, access to funding,
and effectiveness of guidance around publishing. Through a conceptual framework that
incorporates components of the graduate student socialization framework (Twale et al., 2016;
Weidman et al., 2001; Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020) and the ecological systems theory
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005), this study found that first-generation PhD students received
inadequate support at key stages in their development, including entry into graduate school and
during their last two years before completing the degree. By adopting new strategies for
mentorship and professionalization, among other recommendations, practitioners can enhance a
culture of support for first-generation PhD students. While there is growing literature on the
challenges faced by PhD students in STEM fields, few studies address disparities among PhD
students and graduates in the social sciences. A greater commitment to equity and opportunity
for first-generation PhD students can lead to increased diversity among faculty in social science
fields.

v
Dedication
To my daughters Maya and Ellie. And to Aunt Maggie, who continues to teach us that we are
always learning.

vi
Acknowledgments
In these pages, I try to show how critical it is for graduate students to have a strong
community of support, and I can now attest to the benefit of this essential principle from
personal experience.
I want to first thank the eight participants of this study who spoke to me so candidly.
Your passion to your studies is an inspiration, as is your commitment to helping your peers and
any first-generation students who follow your same path. After spending so much time reflecting
on what you shared with me, I hope to carry your experiences with me as I continue to work with
PhD students. Your examples will inform my practice for years to come.
Thank you to my dissertation committee chair, Dr. Eric Canny, who was a calm and
supportive guide throughout this process. You never told me what to do as much as you
presented me with a clear understanding of what my choices were so I could make the best
decision. Thanks also to my other dissertation committee members, Dr. Patricia Tobey and Dr.
Esther Kim. An independent study course with Dr. Tobey in spring 2020, just as the pandemic
took hold, formed the foundation of how I would learn to apply student development theory to
my role as a higher education administrator. And Dr. Kim’s inquiry methods class was equally
valuable in shaping my thinking around how I would approach a qualitative study carefully,
ethically, and rigorously. I’m gratified that this dissertation also resonated with your own
experiences as first-generation students.
Thank you to all my USC Rossier instructors. Every class has helped to shape this
dissertation and my approach to my profession. I’m especially grateful to Dr. Deanna Campbell,
who taught my first inquiry methods course. Thank you for reading a draft of this dissertation
and for always going above and beyond in your support. I think fondly of my two inquiry

vii
methods classes with you and Dr. Kim, where both of you managed to foster a strong community
among students despite the limitations of the virtual pandemic format.
It was during those two methods courses that I bonded with members of my “cohort”—
many of us USC staff who started this degree program as part-timers in fall 2018—first in
person, then remote during COVID. Throughout this time, I learned as much from fellow
students as I did from my professors. Thank you to Alex, Andy, Billy, Callah, Dan, Daniel,
Jeannette, Rosie, and Tanya. Thanks especially to Billy Vela, who is proof of a finding in this
study—that support and encouragement from peers is vital to a student’s success. Thanks for
pushing me when I needed it most. And thanks to Aum and Yadi from Dr. Canny’s dissertation
group for helping me keep on track.
Being a part-time student in an EdD program while working full time in a higher
education setting provided a daily opportunity to test what I was learning. Thank you to my
current colleagues at the Center for International Studies, Linda Kim and Chandra Tierney, for
your patience and understanding in tolerating both my zeal and absent-mindedness over these
past many years. You represent the best of what I try to describe in this dissertation—agents in a
complex system that strive to support and engage students to help them achieve the goals that are
best for them. Thanks also to Dr. Saori Katada, who has been my supervisor and collaborator in
trying to create a culture of research support for both faculty and graduate students at a research
center. Many other colleagues have engaged me in various topics from this study, both directly
and indirectly, helping me refine my ideas into action. I want to thank especially Cathy Ballard,
Danielle DeRosa Ballard, Brett Carter, Veri Chavarin, Allison Hartnett, Miguel Hijar Chiapa,
Morgan Ponder, Alison Renteln, Grace Ryu, Stephanie Schwartz, Greg Treverton, and Carol
Wise.

viii
I was also fortunate to work on staff at USC Rossier before my current role at a research
center. It was there that the idea of pursuing an EdD first took shape, and I will always be
grateful to the many colleagues who encouraged me, including Shafiqa Ahmadi, Darnell Cole,
Nina Crum, Rob Filback, Karen Symms Gallagher, Barbara Goen, Rochelle Hardison, Sandy
Kaplan, Margo Pensavalle, and Kristan Venegas. Thanks especially to the staff from the EDL
program who support hundreds of students and keep the program running: Jim Lee, Chris
Mattson, and Jordan Silva. I am grateful for those many early conversations with Terri Thomas
when I was first considering applying to the program.
My role in a research center—and my interest in the potential impact a center can play in
enhancing a culture of research support for first-generation PhD students—has motivated me
throughout my work on this dissertation. The two examples that stand out to me as ideal models
of what a research center can and should be are the USC-Huntington Early Modern Studies
Institute and the Huntington-USC Institute on California and the West, directed by USC
professors Peter Mancall and Bill Deverell, respectively. I was lucky to work with both of you
for 10 years while on staff as an editor at the Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical
Gardens and marvel at what you continue to do after 20 years as directors. Thanks, Peter, for
your continued mentorship throughout my time at USC. And I wouldn’t have had the
opportunity to work at The Huntington if not for Susan Turner-Lowe, who encouraged me to
follow my curiosity wherever it took me.
I was not a first-generation college student. But as someone who attended a PhD program
shortly after completing my bachelor’s degree, only to drop out after two years, I can understand
how the various challenges of formal and informal socialization in graduate school can
overwhelm a student. My path back to a doctoral program was a long one. Along the way, I was

ix
lifted up by many; seemingly random moments have a way of accumulating and influencing the
person I would become. These relationships and experiences are as special to me as earning this
EdD and continue to shape my approach to work and life. Thank you to Bob Mastagni, who
hired me for one of my first jobs while I was a student at Santa Barbara City College. And thanks
to Margie Ramirez for all the inspiring conversations about books when you supervised me at a
summer job after I transferred to Santa Clara University. Dr. David Skinner, a professor of
history at Santa Clara University, was the best mentor ever. Thank you to colleagues and friends
Nancy Carcione, Mitch Tuchman, and Diana Thompson, who helped me on my early path as an
editor. And thanks for the friendship and support from Mike Takeuchi and the guidance and
encouragement from Maria Oh. All of you played a role in helping me achieve this goal.
In memory of my parents, Ron and Jackie—while you are no longer with me for the end
of this journey, you were there at the start and through many of the important steps, teaching me
the value of hard work and commitment.
And to my wife, Jean—you have been patient and supportive in countless ways these past
five years and much more. Thank you for encouraging me to go after this goal after so many
years. To my daughters, Ellie and Maya, it has been one of my greatest pleasures doing
homework together at the table between and during meals. I have learned more from you than
you will ever know. I dedicate this dissertation to you, as well as to our Aunt Maggie. Like her,
may you never lose your passion for learning.

x
Table of Contents
Abstract .......................................................................................................................................... iv
Dedication ........................................................................................................................................ v
Acknowledgments ......................................................................................................................... vi
List of Tables ................................................................................................................................ xii
List of Figures .............................................................................................................................. xiii
Chapter One: Introduction to the Study ........................................................................................... 1
Context and Background of the Problem ............................................................................ 3
Purpose of the Project and Research Questions .................................................................. 7
Importance of the Study ...................................................................................................... 8
Overview of Theoretical Framework and Methodology ..................................................... 9
Definition of Terms ........................................................................................................... 14
Organization of the Study .................................................................................................. 20
Chapter Two: Review of the Literature ......................................................................................... 21
First-Generation PhD Students .......................................................................................... 23
Relationships and Interactions ........................................................................................... 26
Experiences that Enhance the Development of Researchers ............................................. 31
Graduate Student Socialization Framework ...................................................................... 38
Ecological Systems Theory ............................................................................................... 43
Conceptual Framework ...................................................................................................... 47
Conclusion ......................................................................................................................... 61
Chapter Three: Methodology ......................................................................................................... 62
Research Questions ............................................................................................................ 63
Overview of Design ........................................................................................................... 64
Research Setting ................................................................................................................ 65

xi
The Researcher .................................................................................................................. 65
Data Sources ...................................................................................................................... 66
Participants ........................................................................................................................ 67
Instrumentation .................................................................................................................. 69
Data Collection Procedures ............................................................................................... 71
Data Analysis ..................................................................................................................... 72
Credibility and Trustworthiness ........................................................................................ 77
Ethics ................................................................................................................................. 80
Chapter Four: Findings .................................................................................................................. 82
Participants ........................................................................................................................ 82
Findings ............................................................................................................................. 83
Summary .......................................................................................................................... 136
Chapter Five: Discussion ............................................................................................................. 137
Discussion of the Findings .............................................................................................. 137
Recommendations ........................................................................................................... 152
Limitations and Delimitations ......................................................................................... 162
Recommendations for Future Research ........................................................................... 164
Conclusion ....................................................................................................................... 166
References ................................................................................................................................... 168
Appendix A: Information Sheet for Exempt Research ................................................................ 185
Appendix B: Message to Departmental Staff .............................................................................. 187
Appendix C: Message to Alumni that Program Staff Will Send Out Via Email ........................ 188
Appendix D: Messages to Alumni Who Have Responded to Screening Survey ........................ 190
Appendix E: Screening Survey .................................................................................................... 192
Appendix F: Interview Protocol .................................................................................................. 198

xii
List of Tables
Table 1: Study Participants ............................................................................................................ 83
Table 2: Themes and Findings ....................................................................................................... 86
Table 3: Developmentally Instigative Characteristics ................................................................ 144

xiii
List of Figures
Figure 1: Conceptualizing Graduate Student Socialization ........................................................... 11
Figure 2: Applying Bronfenbrenner’s Ecology Model to a Campus Environment ....................... 13
Figure 3: Conceptualizing Socialization of Students in Higher Education ................................... 42
Figure 4: Zones of Engagement in Graduate Student Socialization .............................................. 49
Figure 5: Higher Ed Institutions of the Graduate Student Socialization Framework .................... 58

1

Chapter One: Introduction to the Study
First-generation PhD students face greater challenges than their continuing-generation
peers in obtaining support that enhances their development as researchers (Roska et al., 2018;
Wapman et al., 2022; Wofford et al., 2021). For example, beyond fulfilling curricular
requirements and producing a dissertation, PhD students need to master a complex set of
academic norms in their socialization into the profession, including interactions with faculty,
peers, and staff, as they develop skills in writing, research, publishing, public speaking, and
grant-writing (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012; Devos et al. 2017; Parker et al., 2015; Portnoi et al.,
2015; Posselt, 2018; Roska et al., 2018). However, first-generation PhD students report greater
difficulties networking among peers and faculty, obtaining research assistantships, and
submitting articles to academic journals (Posselt, 2018; Scott & Miller, 2017). Such challenges
not only affect their progress through a degree program as they meet expectations for formal and
informal milestones (exams, dissertation, conference presentations), but they also bear a direct
correlation to new PhD degree holders’ career prospects, including coveted tenure-track
positions (Gardner & Barnes, 2007; Gardner & Mendoza, 2010). Therefore, to ensure greater
diversity of future tenure-track faculty, practitioners must identify how to improve research
support for first-generation PhD students on their path toward completion of their degree and
into their career as faculty members (Ardoin & Erb, 2022; Holley & Gardner, 2012).
According to the federal definition, a first-generation college student, including a first-
generation PhD student, is a person whose parents did not complete a baccalaureate degree
(Higher Education Act, 1965). While there is a range of literature on first-generation
undergraduates, fewer studies explore the challenges faced by first-generation students in PhD
programs. Approximately 30% of doctoral degree recipients in the United States are first
2

generation, however only 12% of first-generation college students go on to pursue a PhD degree,
compared to 22% of continuing-generation college students (Bahack & Addi-Raccah, 2022).
First-generation status has a high correlation with race and ethnicity. While 19% of White
PhD students from a 2019 survey were first-generation, 52% of Hispanic or Latinx PhD students
were first-generation, 51% of American Indian/Alaskan Native PhD students were first-
generation, and 41% of Black or African American PhD students were first-generation (Mitic,
2022). First-generation students are also more likely to be from lower income families, have
lower standardized test scores, and depend on grants, loans, and scholarships at a higher rate than
their continuing-generation peers (Holden et al., 2021).
Support for PhD students can be enhanced by developing their awareness of membership
in a scholarly community (Brew et al., 2017; Devos et al., 2017). A research culture
encompasses shared values, assumptions, and other behaviors that combine into a research
practice that leads to outputs from its members, including published books and academic articles
(Evans, 2012). In a study exploring the experiences and outcomes among first- and continuing-
generation PhD students, Roska et al. (2018) showed that the second year of study proved to be
especially difficult for first-generation students. Such challenges are characterized not by
increasing academic rigor but by variations in engagement through formal and informal
socialization practices. For example, it’s not merely that successful students are excelling in
coursework and advancing in their dissertation research, but that they are also able to navigate
relationships and participate in workshops, conferences, and other informal activities such as
networking with scholars outside their departments and institutions. Early barriers to integration
into the academic community can leave students so far behind by their second year that they
never catch up to their peers (Roska et al., 2018). That is, students who do not form a solid
3

relationship with their dissertation advisor—or who attend research events and workshops less
frequently than others because they might feel insecure and/or unwelcome—are likely to be
overlooked for research assistant assignments or other funding opportunities (Parker et al.,
2015).
Beyond meeting baseline expectations such as completing coursework, passing exams,
and advancing through the dissertation, graduate students might encounter limited opportunities
for supplemental training and development within their academic departments (Zhou &
Okahana, 2019). While the academic department serves as an initial support system, a PhD
student’s success depends on how well they craft a community beyond the home department.
While students in the physical sciences tend to affiliate formally with a lab and principal
investigator (PI; often their dissertation advisor), students in the social sciences are not exposed
to a mechanism or pathway to facilitate community building with a consistent group of peers and
faculty around a topic (Rodriguez et al., 2022). Research centers and institutes in the social
sciences can fill this void for many students, thereby enhancing socialization opportunities
through norm-setting, professionalization, and mentorship (Kumar, 2017; Sá, 2008; Stahler &
Tash,1994). However, many students are left on their own to construct a community of research
support. By looking at the challenges faced by first-generation PhD students engaging in various
settings in social science fields, practitioners can identify new strategies for enhancing a culture
of research support that can lead to success in both the degree program and on the job market.
Context and Background of the Problem
The context for this study is the research environment for PhD students enrolled in one of
several social science departments at Golden State University (a pseudonym), a large, private R1
university on the West Coast. The R1 designation by Carnegie Classifications identifies the most
4

research-intensive institutions in the United States (Kosar & Scott, 2018). This study focused on
first-generation PhD students from GSU in the social sciences, including anthropology,
economics, political science, and sociology. National enrollment figures show that 24% of all
PhD students in social sciences are first-generation (Mitic, 2022). The rate of enrollment of first-
generation PhD students in social science fields is similar to rates for arts and humanities (24%)
and biological and agricultural sciences (26%) but significantly lower than it is for the field of
education, where 35% of all PhD students are first-generation (Mitic, 2022). Other popular fields
include health sciences (32%) and math and computer science (30%). While there is growing
literature on the challenges faced by PhD students in STEM fields, few studies address
disparities among PhD students and graduates in the social sciences.
For the purposes of this study, the context focuses on PhD students rather than any other
graduate degree; broad research support outside the classroom; and the process of socialization.
PhD Graduate Programs
The purpose of a PhD program is to prepare students to do research (Council of Graduate
Schools, 1990). Upon admission, a PhD student may receive an offer of funding, fellowships, or
scholarships (Ardoin & Erb, 2022). PhD students at GSU receive an average of $34,000 in
funding per year over five years, covering full tuition remission, fellowship stipends (two years),
teaching and/or research assistant stipends (three years), health insurance, and fee waivers.
Students take a set number of courses and units in the first three years, including core classes in a
second subfield, before sitting for qualifying examinations at the end of their third year. PhD
students in the social sciences are expected to be well versed in methods training such as
qualitative or quantitative skills for assessing data in support of their research questions and to
formulate research designs that frame the arguments of their dissertations. The “ABD” stage (“all
5

but dissertation”) provides the student the time needed to complete a five-chapter dissertation
under the guidance of a dissertation advisor and two to three additional committee members
(Calarco, 2022). The PhD program culminates with a dissertation defense, usually at the end of
year 5, whereupon the student is awarded the doctorate degree. Transitions to a career within
academia might begin with predoctoral fellowships prior to completing the dissertation, a
postdoctoral fellowships within the first one to five years after completing the program, or a
faculty offer, which can be tenure- or non-tenure-track, adjunct, or part-time (Calarco, 2022). In
2022, 197,400 graduates in the United States earned doctoral degrees, including PhD, EdD, and
comparable degrees at the doctoral level (U.S. Department of Education, 2022).
Variations in funding and fellowships distinguish top candidates while also representing
gaps among programs (Schuman et al., 2022). Navigating external funding sources can be an
intimidating and exhausting process, taking students away from the precious time needed to
conduct research and write their dissertations (Calarco, 2022; Schuman et al., 2022). Students in
the social sciences might need to conduct surveys or purchase data that can run into the
thousands of dollars for each iteration of a study, thereby forcing them to compete for meager
resources in an academic department that prioritizes faculty needs over student needs (Nguyen &
Yao, 2022). Once a student survives the process of gaining admission, securing funding,
obtaining a research assistantship, and completing their dissertation, there are no guarantees that
they will land a job, even if they have managed to publish in academic journals prior to receiving
their PhD degrees (Wapman et al., 2022)
Research Support
For the purposes of this study, research support is described as the various factors that
together lead to the development of a research identity as a professional scholar. A research
6

culture encompasses the “shared values, assumptions, beliefs, rituals and other forms of behavior
geared toward the acknowledgment of the value and significance of research practice and its
outputs” (Evans, 2012, p. 1). A successful research culture has four aspects: the building of
research capacity, the creation of an essential infrastructure, the building of collaborations
through community partnerships, and the funding of research (Rossouw, 2020).
An understanding of the various factors influencing research success can lead to holistic
strategies for building a cohesive and equitable culture of support. Browning et al. (2014)
identified factors that contribute to the success of productive researchers, including having a
research-oriented doctorate; being mentored; attending conferences; supervising post-graduate
students; being part of an active and supportive research group; receiving assistance to develop
grant applications; and financial “start-up” funds that provide traction on projects in need of
further grant support (p. 126). It is through maximizing all seven factors simultaneously that a
research setting can take full advantage of the cumulative effect of each of these areas working
together.
Socialization
Socialization is the process in which new members internalize the expectations and
standards of a group—in this case a graduate school cohort. It includes learning and adopting the
skills, habits, and values of the group (Austin & McDaniels, 2006). Socialization thus unfolds
through interactions with other individuals, integration into shared professional values with peers
and faculty, and learning specific skills and knowledge that form the foundation of a new
profession as a faculty member (Sweitzer, 2009; Weidman et al., 2001). The locus of
socialization can vary depending on the discipline and field of study. In all fields, formal
socialization is concentrated in the academic department or under the supervision of the
7

dissertation advisor, including coursework, passing exams, and advancing through the
dissertation process. However, the development of a research identity also requires PhD students
to supplement this formal training with additional experiences that can fall under the category of
informal socialization, such as interactions through research assistantships, writing workshops,
and other professional development, academic conferences, and publication of original research
either individually or through co-authorship opportunities with faculty (Nguyen & Yao, 2022).
These types of informal socialization activities represent in broader terms the students’ levels of
integration, interaction, and engagement with faculty and peers in all these activities (Weidman
et al., 2021).
Mentorship of graduate students—including formal relationships with dissertation
advisors and informal interactions with other faculty—can facilitate socialization. A study of
networking in various professional settings showed that mentoring is seen as a “range of
interrelated systems” that can provide support throughout the career of the mentee (Rush &
Wheeler, 2011, p. 222). Other systems that characterize the environment of a graduate student
include discipline, institution, department, lab, and the student-advisor relationship (Devos,
2017). Membership in an active group of researchers is a predictor of individual output,
including a greater frequency of published articles and conference presentations (Browning et al.,
2014).
Purpose of the Project and Research Questions
The purpose of this study was to understand the factors that support and hinder the
socialization of first-generation PhD students as it relates to their access to essential resources
supporting their development as researchers, including membership in a formal or informal
research community. Two research questions informed this study:
8

1. What are the experiences of first-generation PhD students seeking research support in
social science fields at Golden State University?
2. How do first-generation PhD students’ relationships with faculty, peers, and
university staff affect their experiences identifying, accessing, and obtaining
resources supporting their research?
Importance of the Study
Only 1.5% of the U.S. population possesses a doctoral degree (Mitic, 2022). Although
earning a PhD degree is a rare achievement, the number of doctoral degree holders has doubled
from 2.25 million to 4.5 million since 2000, including more women, Black, and Latinx scholars
than ever before (Mitic, 2022). However, disaggregated enrollment and completion data reveal a
more complex story of the inequities that persist for underrepresented PhD students. Enrollment
of first-generation graduate students in the United States has dropped over the last generation.
For example, in the late 1980s, more than 50% of doctoral students were first generation, but by
2017, the proportion had dropped to 31% (Ardoin & Erb, 2022). First-generation students enroll
in doctoral programs at a lower rate (2.6%) than continuing-generation (5.7%) students (Engle &
Tinto, 2008). This discrepancy is driven in part by funding and financial concerns since first-
generation students tend to come from lower-income families, with an average family income of
$58,000, versus continuing-generation students, with an average family income of $120,000
(Startz, 2022). Such factors correspond to data showing that the proportion of first-generation
undergraduates at selective universities (33%) is one-half lower than at less-selective colleges
and universities (66%), therefore it is more likely that first-generation PhD students attended a
less research-intensive university than their continuing-generation peers (Roksa et al., 2018).
9

The challenges faced by first-generation PhD students in entering and completing
graduate programs are compounded by the job market they face after obtaining their degrees. In
a study on the composition of faculty in U.S. universities and their own degree-granting
institutions, Wapman et al. (2022) showed how prestige dictates the hiring of new faculty: 20%
of PhD-granting institutions in the United States supply 80% of tenure-track faculty, with one
out of eight professors coming from one of five elite universities (Wapman et al., 2022). This
pattern translates to a rigid academic system where PhD graduates seldom obtain jobs at
universities considered more elite than their PhD-granting institutions. Such trends affect first-
generation PhD students, who attend less-selective institutions in greater proportion to their
continuing-generation peers. These trends also mean that first-generation PhD students—many
of whom are students of color—lack role models and mentors since White faculty make up
76.4% of tenured faculty (Wapman et al., 2022). Also, first-generation PhD students report
seeking positions at master’s level, regional universities, and community colleges, in part due to
feeling less supported in selective universities but also due to a desire to serve first-generation
students and students of color (Mitic, 2022). Together, these factors demonstrate that research
support for current and future first-generation PhD students is critical to interrupting these
patterns of inequity.
Overview of Theoretical Framework and Methodology
Two models inform this exploration of the intersection of PhD students and their settings:
the graduate student socialization framework (Twale et al., 2016; Weidman et al., 2001;
Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020) and the ecological systems theory (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993,
2005). Theories on the socialization of graduate students have emerged only in the past two
decades, as researchers have increasingly recognized the limitations of student developmental
10

models designed solely for undergraduates. Weidman expanded on his own theory of
socialization for undergraduates (1989) to help form a new framework for graduate students
(Weidman et al., 2001). The authors of this latter framework make the case that socialization is
not only a process for gaining knowledge, skills, and values, but it is also the pathway into a
profession. The four-stage model is based on Astin’s theory of involvement (1984, 1999), which
includes three elements: inputs, environments, and outputs (I-E-O). Thus, the first stage of the
graduate student socialization framework, the anticipatory stage, serves as the input; the formal
and informal stages represent the environments; and the personal stage is the output of the model
(See Figure 1). More specifically, the anticipatory stage describes the outset of a graduate
student’s path into graduate school as they are introduced to new procedures and routines of
study. In the formal stage, graduate students begin observing the behavior of older students while
adopting the expectations of the community, primarily the academic department and courses.
The informal stage acknowledges the importance of factors that occur outside of the classroom
and beyond the student-teacher relationship, which forms the early foundation for professional
expectations. Finally, the personal stage represents the period in which the student has begun to
internalize these expectations as they adopt a new professional identity. A latter study by Twale
et al. (2016) addresses the limitations of the socialization model of Weidman et al. (2001),
injecting the importance of individual and institutional characteristics, especially pertaining to
underrepresented student populations and various institutional characteristics that can serve as
barriers to socialization.

11

Figure 1
Conceptualizing Graduate Student Socialization

Note. From “Conceptualizing socialization of graduate students of color: Revisiting the
Weidman-Twale-Stein framework,” by D. J. Twale, J. C. Weidman, & K. Bethea, 2016, Western
Journal of Black Studies, 40(2), p. 87. Copyright 2016 by Washington State University (adapted
from Weidman, 2006; Weidman et al., 2001; bolded elements in the framework differ from
Weidman et al., 2001).
12

Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory (1979, 1993, 2005) provides a dynamic
framework for enhancing an understanding of the graduate student socialization framework
while also allowing for the analysis of the interaction between the individual (graduate students)
and the various individuals, groups, or organizations that they encounter in various settings. The
model shows that human development and socialization are informed by multiple spheres of
influence or environments (relationships and interactions), or ecological systems, that consist of
four nested levels of the environment ranging from the most immediate to the most distant:
microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem, and macrosystem (See Figure 2). Bronfenbrenner later
added a fifth system, the chronosystem, which included historical contexts, events, and temporal
dimensions to show the growth of the individual. Bronfenbrenner (1979) has shown that
ecological models of human development allow us to explore how the environment—and the
students’ interaction with it—form their identity (Evans et al., 2017; Renn & Arnold, 2003).
The systems in Figure 2 are presented in a series of nested spheres. First, at the center, is
the microsystem, where the student is surrounded by those people they might interact with most
directly, such as family and friends in their personal lives, but also the peers, faculty, and staff
who they encounter in their graduate program. This is encircled by the mesosytem, where two or
more people might interact in more complex ways, including the academic department and other
units and organizations within the university setting that supplement training and support. The
third system is the exosystem, which covers influential factors beyond the immediate orbit of the
student but nonetheless impacts their lives, such as the university setting and the broader
organizational infrastructure of a campus, such as the graduate division or the college or school
within the university structure. By the time you factor in the macrosystem, you are
acknowledging the influence of cultural and societal beliefs pertaining to PhD education broadly
13

or to the individual’s discipline, consisting of national associations, conferences, or the
mechanisms and norms of the academic job search. The chronosystem includes historical
contexts, events, and the passage of time in a student’s trajectory through a graduate program,
which can include both the challenges a first-generation student might be facing on an individual
basis over their time in the program but also patterns in the wider society around representation
and inclusiveness in general in graduate programs. The individual not only engages actively with
the environment, but environmental conditions influence how the individual adapts to their
complex settings (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005).

Figure 2
Applying Bronfenbrenner’ s Ecology Model to a Campus Environment

Note: From K. A. Renn & K. D. Arnold, 2003, The Journal of Higher Education, 74(3), 261–
291. Copyright 2003 by K. Renn & K. D. Arnold.
14

Definition of Terms
The following terms provide the context for assessing the complexity of a culture of
research support for first-generation PhD students.
• Advisor refers to the PhD student’s dissertation advisor, frequently known as the
dissertation chair or supervisor.
• Agents refers to faculty, staff, and administrators as well as individuals such as peers,
friends, family, and coworkers who engage with the person in Bronfenbrenner’s
ecological systems model.
• Anticipatory stage is the first stage of the graduate student socialization framework. It
covers the preparatory and recruitment phases as the student enters the PhD degree
program with idealized expectations (Weidman et al., 2001).
• Context is the third component of the ecological systems theory, where the person
(the student) is engaged with various processes. It consists of five nested levels that
surround the person in ever-widening environments: the microsystem, mesosystem,
exosystem, macrosystem, and chronosystem (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005).
• Department is the academic unit that oversees the curriculum and requirements for
obtaining the PhD degree in a particular field or discipline. In this study, the
department is in the field of social sciences, such as economics, political science, or
sociology.
• Development is the outcome arising from synergy among components (purpose,
person, context, time) of the ecological systems model (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993,
2005).
15

• Developmentally instigative characteristics are the attributes of the person at the
center of the ecological systems model that either invite or inhibit engagement with
the environment (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005).
• Directive beliefs represent the level of agency students bring to their own
development; the fourth of four types of characteristics of Bronfenbrenner’s
developmentally instigative characteristics.
• Ecological systems theory is a developmental theory devised by Bronfenbrenner
(1979, 1993, 2005); it consists of four components: process, person, context, and time
(PPCT).
• Ecological validation comprises interpersonal validation, which is support for social
and personal interactions, and academic validation. This is the process in which
faculty or staff help students develop their innate capacity to learn (Kezar et al., 2022;
Rendón, 1994).
• Engagement includes both the extent to which students participate in educationally
effective activities as well as their perceptions of facets of the institutional
environment that support their learning and development (Kuh, 2001).
• Exosystem encircles the mesosystem; includes influential factors beyond the
immediate orbit of the student (the person) but nonetheless impact their lives, such as
the university setting and the broader organizational infrastructure of a campus, such
as the graduate division or the college or school within the university structure.
• First-generation PhD students are first-generation undergraduates who continue into
graduate school; that is, an individual whose parents do not have a bachelor’s degree
(Higher Education Act, 1965).
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• Formal stage is the second stage of the graduate student socialization framework. It
includes coursework and instruction, when new students absorb the expectations of
the discipline and profession from more advanced peers and faculty (Weidman et al.,
2001).
• Graduate student socialization framework is a four-stage model for assessing the
development of graduate students, including the anticipatory, formal, informal, and
personal stages (Weidman et. al. 2001).
• Inhibiting responses from the environment describe when the student who is the
person in the center of the ecological systems model refrains from pursuing assistance
from faculty, peers, or staff. It is the opposite tendency to inviting responses. Inviting
and inhibiting are the first of four types of characteristics of Bronfenbrenner’s
developmentally instigative characteristics.
• Informal stage is the third stage of the graduate student socialization framework. It
might occur simultaneously to the formal stage but factors in experiences outside the
classroom and events beyond contact with faculty as course instructors, dissertation
advisors, or dissertation committee members (Weidman et al., 2001).
• Investment is to “commit something of personal value such as time, alternative career
choices, self-esteem, social status, or reputation to some aspect of a professional role
or preparation for it” (Weidman et al., 2001, p. 17).
• Involvement is the amount of physical and psychological energy a student devotes to
his/her academic experience (Astin, 1984).
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• Interaction “occurs between individuals and external expectations, including the
individual’s attempts to influence the expectations of others as well as others to
influence individuals” (Thornton & Nardi, 1975, p. 873).
• Integration is the extent to which students come to share the attitudes and beliefs of
their peers and faculty and the extent to which students adhere to the structural rules
and requirements of the institution—the institutional culture (Pascarella & Terenzini,
1991; Tinto, 1993).
• Inviting responses from the environment is when the student who is the person in the
center of the ecological systems model seeks out help and support from faculty, peers,
or staff. It is the opposite tendency to inhibiting responses. Inviting and inhibiting are
the first of four types of characteristics of Bronfenbrenner’s developmentally
instigative characteristics.
• Learning refers to mastery of knowledge and skills necessary for effective
professional practice (Sweitzer, 2009).
• Macrosystem encircles the exosystem; it includes cultural and societal beliefs
pertaining to PhD education broadly or to the student’s discipline, consisting of
national associations, conferences, or the mechanisms and norms of the academic job
search (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005).
• Mentorship includes the formal and informal relationships between graduate students
and faculty, including dissertation advisors, committee members, and professors
internal to a student’s institution as well as the relationships formed with scholars at
other institutions who provide guidance within a field, concentration, or discipline
(Higgins & Kram, 2001). It can also include relationships with peers.
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• Mesosystem encircles the microsystem; where the student (person) might interact with
two or more people in more complex ways, including the academic department,
research centers, or other organizations within the university providing supplemental
training and support (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005).
• Microsystem is the center of the system, where the student (the person) is surrounded
by those people they might interact with most directly, such as family and friends in
their personal lives, but also the peers, faculty, mentors, and staff who they encounter
in their graduate program (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005; Patton et al., 2016).
• Person is the second component of Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory. In
this study, this is the first-generation PhD student seeking to complete the degree and
enter the profession as a scholar (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005; Patton et al.,
2016).
• Personal stage represents the period in which the student has begun to internalize
professional expectations as they adopt a new professional identity (Weidman et al.,
2001).
• Practitioners are faculty, staff, or administrators that influence the environment of
support for PhD students in the university setting. See also agents.
• Process is the first component of the ecological systems theory. It consists of various
types of interactions between the student and their environment—which
Bronfenbrenner calls “proximal processes”—which occur over time and lead to
development (Bronfenbrenner & Morris, 2006; Patton et al., 2016).
• Professionalization includes the various activities, both formal and informal, that
contribute to the development of a professional identify for a novice in training.
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• Research culture encompasses the “shared values, assumptions, beliefs, rituals and
other forms of behavior geared toward the acknowledgment of the value and
significance of research practice and its outputs” (Evans, 2012, p. 1). A successful
research culture has four aspects: the building of research capacity, the creation of an
essential infrastructure, the building of collaborations through community
partnerships, and the funding of research (Rossouw, 2020).
• Research productivity refers to the number of published articles or books; does not
generally include conference papers or book reviews.
• Selective responsivity is when each student (the person of the ecological systems
model) approaches their surroundings differently, some choosing to join
organizations while others remain on their own. It is the second of four types of
characteristics of Bronfenbrenner’s developmentally instigative characteristics.
• Socialization is “a process of internalizing the expectations, standards, and norms of a
given society, which includes learning the relevant skills, knowledge, habits,
attitudes, and values of the group that one is joining” (Austin & McDaniels, 2006, p.
400).
• Structural proclivities represent the third of four types of characteristics of
Bronfenbrenner’s developmentally instigative characteristics. Those students (the
persons in the ecological systems model) who tend to be most successful in PhD
programs have strong “structuring proclivities,” which means they tend to challenge
themselves and persist through increasingly complex activities that lead directly to
their professional development.
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Organization of the Study
The dissertation consists of five chapters. Chapter One introduces the study and provides
the context for exploring the socialization of first-generation PhD students pursuing research
support. The study’s two research questions focused broadly on the experiences of students and
their relationships with other stakeholders in the program. Chapter Two consists of a review of
literature around first-generation PhD students and their various interactions and environments;
the chapter also includes the conceptual framework for the study, which draws from elements of
the graduate student socialization framework (Twale et al., 2016; Weidman et al., 2001;
Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020) and Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory (1979, 1993,
2005). Chapter Three outlines the methodology of the study, which comprises eight interviews
with first-generation PhD alumni from social science fields, lasting 60 minutes each and
addressing the former PhD students’ backgrounds, general experiences and challenges, and
relationships with peers, faculty, and staff. Chapter Four provides eighteen findings from the
interviews divided across six themes corresponding to the conceptual framework. Chapter Five
details a discussion of the findings, yielding four patterns for consideration. It also introduces
five recommendations that provide new strategies for the enhancement of programming and
support for first-generation PhD students.

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Chapter Two: Review of the Literature
The diverse challenges faced by first-generation PhD students are well studied. The
literature ranges from explorations of the nuances of relationships with faculty, peers, and staff
(Boud et al., 2014; Brew et al., 2017; Posselt, 2018; Renn & Arnold, 2003; Rossouw, 2020) to
studies on the measurable benefits of writing workshops, attending conferences, or working as a
research assistant (Browning et al., 2014; Devos, et al., 2017; Kamler, 2008; Rush & Wheeler,
2011). Another body of work addresses institutional issues such as the roles played by a
department or department chair in establishing a supportive climate for graduate students or
junior faculty (Armstrong & Woloshyn, 2017; Cervino, 2018). In-depth studies of distinct
disciplines or fields, such as STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) more broadly,
provide context for exploring similar patterns in the social sciences (Burt et al., 2022; Millett,
2006; Olvido, 2021). Beyond these relational and institutional challenges are studies that explore
the psychosocial impact of graduate students via broad topics such as the hidden curriculum of
graduate school or imposter syndrome (Holden et al., 2021; Roska et al., 2018). Many scholars
draw on these diverse topics in offering in-depth analyses of the experiences of women, Black,
or Latinx graduate students at predominantly White institutions (Jaeger et al., 2009; Millett &
Nettles, 2006; Milner, 2007; Turner & Thompson, 1993). Collectively, these studies yield rich
material for practitioners seeking to improve outcomes for all PhD students, including first-
generation students.
While these studies bring great value to our understanding of attrition, persistence, and
well-being for PhD students, the narrow scope and focus of each standalone study does not
always depict the complexity of students’ grappling with many dimensions of student life
simultaneously. Although studies on department culture and the roles of department chairs might
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address a constellation of issues such as courses, exams, dissertation milestones, and funding for
PhD students, they do not adequately address aspects of professional development such as
research skills, networking, and the publication process (Zhou & Okahana, 2019). While some
scholars have turned their attention to the role played by formal labs and principal investigators
(PIs) for STEM graduate students, few studies explore how PhD students in the social sciences
navigate and cultivate research communities and support systems (Rodriguez et al., 2022).
Two theoretical models provide valuable frameworks for exploring the intersections of
first-generation PhD students and their environments. The graduate student socialization
framework (Twale et al., 2016; Weidman et al., 2001; Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020) builds on
stage models borrowed from undergraduate education and Astin’s theory of involvement (1984,
1999) to acknowledge the unique characteristics of development for PhD students. However,
stage models do not always adequately address institutional factors at play in a PhD student’s
development, especially for first-generation and other minoritized students. By overlaying
Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory (1979, 1993, 2005) onto stage models of
socialization, we can devise a dynamic model that places all dimensions of a student’s
experiences (relationships, activities, formal and informal socialization) into an integrated pattern
of ecological systems, including a microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem, and macrosystem. In
this new model, the student, other agents, and various zones of engagement are components of a
complex constellation of phenomena that—once understood in the specific context of developing
an identity as a research scholar—can transform how all stakeholders interact with first-
generation PhD students on their paths to becoming the faculty of tomorrow.
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First-Generation PhD Students
The literature on first-generation PhD students addresses a variety of challenges,
including socialization, funding, and outcomes. First-generation PhD students refer to a series of
obstacles in describing their academic paths, often dating back to high school, through college,
and into a PhD program, according to a study of first- and continuing-generation PhD students’
academic experiences and strengths (Bahack & Addi-Raccah, 2022). Among the frequent
obstacles were academic, financial, and cultural challenges. Gardner (2013) summarizes several
factors impacting first-generation PhD students, from tangible concerns related to funding and
financial support to socio-emotional concerns relating to feelings of otherness and imposter
syndrome. Roska et al. (2018) examine relationships between students’ experiences and their
outcomes over time, highlighting how socialization experiences can lead to specific outcomes. A
key aspect of this model is the recognition of the importance of the students’ integration into the
scholarly community. Preparation and exposure to research resources can make the difference
between succeeding and struggling. Doctoral attrition can be tied to “derailed socialization”
(Roska et al., 2018), a term that acknowledges the inability to integrate both academically and
socially (Lovitts, 2001).
First-generation students who enter PhD programs report perceptions of inadequate skills
or training, inequitable access to resources, and a lack of faculty diversity that inhibits their
ability to seek support (Twale et al., 2016). The gaps in skills or proficiencies at the start of a
program often widen as the years go on. This phenomenon is sometimes described as the
Matthew Effect, a term borrowed from economics that describes the concept of accumulated
advantage, as in “the rich get richer” (Gardner & Barnes, 2007; Gopaul, 2019). Faculty—
specifically the large proportion who are White men—perpetuate the gap by smoothing the
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pathways of the more advantaged students they encounter (Feldon et al., 2022; Wapman et al.,
2022; Weidman et al., 2001). While departments ensure students meet formal milestones such as
course requirements or examinations, other resources are allocated less formally, such as
research assistantships, research grants, and opportunities to co-author or attend conferences
(Gopaul, 2011). While the composition of students has been changing, the demographics of
faculty is far less diverse (Twale et al., 2016). Faculty, in short, wield tremendous power in how
they impose their own biases in interacting with students.
Among the features enhancing a PhD student’s integration into an academic department
or research community are opportunities to publish; membership on a team; and mentorship or
co-authorship with faculty (Browning et al., 2014). Not all students have equitable opportunities
to publish or make presentations at conferences; first-generation students were less likely to
produce a publishable paper in their second year of a program compared with their continuing-
generation peers (Roska et al., 2018). Furthermore, affiliation with a lab or research team,
including a dissertation chair, other faculty, and peer PhD students, can accelerate and enhance
the process of socialization into the discipline (Gardner, 2009). Co-authorship with a faculty
member can mark a student’s initiation as a published author, with faculty members playing
crucial roles developing students’ skills in academic writing (Kamler, 2008; Roska et al., 2018).
Therefore, essential programs to address student support in PhD programs would include
guidance and mentorship support, orientations, funding, and broader efforts to create a
welcoming environment for students (Gardner, 2013).
Identity
While first-generation students are a heterogenous population, race and gender are
notable common denominators among those who struggle in PhD programs. A student’s
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intersectionality—when their identity spans racial, gender, first-generation status, socio-
economic status––factors into all interactions, including those with faculty, peers, staff as well as
the students’ perceptions of those interactions (Twale et al., 2016). For example, one study shows
that White women, when compared with women of color, experience greater advantages (Noy &
Ray, 2012). Despite the prevalence of sustained discrimination and displacement among first-
generation students, organizations cannot resolve such challenges with one simple and
comprehensive policy. An understanding of each student’s unique background, identity, and
cultural capital can lead to distinct and effective support decisions designed to meet each need.
Self-Perception
While first-generation PhD students might encounter tangible gaps in their background
that might put them behind other students, such as differences in training in data programs,
methods, writing, and research, a more insidious phenomenon might also set in, such as
imagined perceptions of inferiority, including imposter syndrome or traitor syndrome. This
alienation is exacerbated by the so-called unwritten rules of academia known as the hidden
curriculum (Ardoin and Erb, 2022; Calarco, 2020). Imposter syndrome is when a person feels
they do not belong in a setting. Traitor syndrome describes the feeling a student might have when
they feel their pursuit of academic success must come at the expense of abandoning their homes
and families. Also called dual alienation, it’s that feeling when a student is divided between their
home community and academic institution or program, never fully part of one or the other
(Ardoin & Erb, 2022). In a study of imposter syndrome among first- and continuing-generation
undergraduates, Holden et al. (2021) found that levels of perfectionism are correlated with
imposter syndrome and stress in both groups, but imposter syndrome is more strongly associated
with stress among first-generation students.
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Studies also couch the phenomenon in terms of cultural or social capital. Individuals
possess unique combinations of experiences and knowledge that distinguish them from one
another (Twale et al., 2016). For example, non-White students have reported assuming that their
White peers will simply be offered greater access to resources (Acker & Hague, 2015) The
combination of real and perceived differences compounds over the time spent in a graduate
program and can lead to disadvantages in obtaining grants, research assistantships, job
interviews, and job offers (Gopaul, 2019; Twale et al., 2016).
Perceptions of Learning
Another study acknowledges the lack of “cognitive maps” among those students who
struggle (Gardner, 2013). Cognitive maps are “mental models that are created jointly by
members of a community and give coherence to perceptions of events, people, and objects”
(Gardner 2013, p. 47). Cognitive maps help students understand their experiences and make the
right decisions. They are strengthened through interactions with faculty and peers. Without a
strong cognitive map, a student is more likely to have trouble navigating through the various
stages of socialization while also pursuing essential support such as research assistantships and
other forms of funding.
Relationships and Interactions
Throughout their time in a PhD program, students form a diverse array of relationships
with faculty (including the dissertation advisor), peers, and staff. While no two PhD students
have the same experience, there are patterns within these relationships that characterize the types
of outcomes experienced by students.

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Faculty
The formation of strong relationships with faculty is essential to the success of PhD
students. In a study of four PhD STEM programs, Posselt (2018) offered a holistic model of
faculty support that includes academic, psychosocial, and sociocultural dimensions, which can be
enacted through specific behaviors. The study seeks to identify support structures that are most
likely to impact persistence and well-being for PhD students from historically excluded groups.
A holistic approach acknowledges the needs for students to pair mastery of subject material with
the skills and strategies for deciphering the unspoken rules of academic culture, including
training in research and exposure to the patterns of rejection that are characteristic of academic
publishing. Faculty are in a unique position to demystify the hidden curriculum of scholarly life.
Within a setting that fosters learning between faculty and PhD students, there are two
models of apprenticeship (Collins, 2006; Posselt, 2018). Traditional apprenticeship addresses
workplace demands rather than pedagogical needs. For example, how does one identify possible
dissertation committee members or balance individual study with participation in extracurricular
programs such as conferences and workshops? Cognitive apprenticeship, on the other hand,
introduces the apprentice to techniques and methods of the specific field or profession, providing
space and experiences to practice applying the skills needed to succeed. An example of this form
of apprenticeship would be a deepening of an understanding of research methods beyond the
introductory class. Modeling from faculty and increased complexity are features that allow
students to build skills gradually through practice. A critical component of a successful
mentorship model in a PhD program is support for the socialization of underrepresented students,
particularly introductions to professional norms while also allowing students to adhere to their
personal values (Antony, 2002; Posselt, 2018). The complexity of the system is acknowledged
28

by the fact that these relationships do not have to be dyadic but can feature multiple mentors
such as faculty, peers, and staff.
The relationship with the dissertation advisor is the primary student-faculty relationship
of the PhD degree program. In a study of more than 100 PhD students in the biological sciences,
Wofford et al. (2021) examined differences in conceptions of faculty advisors and principal
investigators between first-generation and continuing generation students. While first-generation
students expected more hands-on guidance and skills-based training from their advisors,
continuing-generation students tended to expect less direct support that fostered independence.
By recognizing differences in engagement among first-generation and continuing-generation
students, the study also emphasized the role played by students’ racial and ethnic identity in their
socialization (Twale et al., 2016). The study also draws on Bourdieu’s (1977, 1990) concepts of
cultural capital and habitus. Habitus represents the phenomenon of individuals internalizing
social structures as well as the way their perceptions and attitudes influence their behavior.
Another study relied on interviews with 20 first-generation PhD students to highlight how the
“unspoken” rules of graduate school can keep students from advancing through the program,
placing greater weight on the importance of an advisor who can demystify the “rules” rather than
perpetuate inequities (Gardner & Holley, 2011).
Peers
Peer-to-peer relationships are also critical to the social, emotional, and intellectual
development of scholars. A study co-written by two graduate students called for faculty advisors
to help facilitate peer relationships among graduate students as features of the academic process
(Scott & Miller, 2017). While advisors and doctoral students form a dyadic relationship with an
implied power dynamic (in contrast to the findings of Posselt, 2018), peers provide “relational
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mentoring” for one another, where both participants can experience growth (Scott & Miller,
2017, p. 145). The authors use the metaphor of “glue” to describe organic peer mentorship
because of the way a peer mentor connects their fellow student to faculty and other students as
well as to basic practices of the profession and discipline.
Peer-to-peer mentorship features three relevant aspects: purpose, planning, and positivity
(Scott & Miller, 2017). Purpose evokes the student’s overall goals, including their desire to
pursue a degree. Planning includes all the components of the day-to-day realities of moving
through a PhD program, including the various logistics and tasks associating with progressing
through coursework to class selection and registering and passing the final defense to fulfilling
all academic requirements. Positivity is critical to this process, according to the authors, who
explain that organic peer mentorship is authentic and intentional. This model recognizes how
critical faculty mentoring is to the connections among peers. Faculty are essential facilitators of
peer connections. Furthermore, faculty help create the kinds of connections among students that
will build the capacity of all students engaged in peer-to-peer mentorship. In so doing, faculty
enact collaboration, community, and connection in their facilitation of peer-to-peer mentorship
(Scott & Miller, 2017). In other words, faculty model collaboration, incorporate community
practices in their courses and workshops, and prioritize connections among their students. Peer
mentoring may help students from low socioeconomic status overcome perceived barriers in
graduate school (Twale et al., 2016). Conversely, ineffective faculty mentoring can undermine
peer-to-peer mentoring among students of color and White students, jeopardizing degree
completion and a path to an academic career (Rodriguez et al., 2022).

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Staff and Administrators
University staff and administrators are also essential factors in the development of
cultures of support for research students. Brew et al. (2017) interviewed 21 research education
coordinators (student research coordinators, research studies coordinators, directors of graduate
studies, and so on) at Australian and United Kingdom institutions to identify the strategies for
building research cultures. These administrators faced numerous challenges related to mobilizing
students, including overcoming existing institutional cultures and the difficulty of serving many
students and faculty. The role of a research culture in building capacity goes beyond the
establishment of shared values and practices to the adoption of specific expectations around
publishing and research grants. Research administrators found the greatest success through
strategies and initiatives that built on past experiences and involved other colleagues. For
example, administrators who had worked to build a research culture over several years spoke
about the importance of tracking their work while reflecting on effective practices, making
refinements, and identifying gaps that needed to be addressed. They also emphasized the
importance of embedding practices into routine processes, thereby ensuring continuity regardless
of staff turnover. The study concluded that research education coordinators played an important
role in expanding the inclusivity of students into a community of researchers (Brew et al., 2017).
A study of the coordination role in research education uses the integrated competing
values framework to demonstrate the value of a distributed leadership model in research
organizations (Boud et al., 2014; Vilkinas et al., 2009). Distributed leadership differs from
positional leadership; rather than focusing on individual traits, it acknowledges the context and
culture of an organization, thereby seeing leadership as a dimension of collective responsibilities
(Gosling et al., 2009). By privileging relationships, members of an organization become more
31

attentive to patterns of influence rather than the direction of decision making (Boud et al., 2014).
Another study explored the experiences and reflections of 11 administrators to identify
successful practices to change the perceptions of an organization’s practices overall. Using an
appreciative inquiry theoretical research model, the study posited administration as a “craft-
informed” practice where cumulative experiences deepen knowledge (Calabrese, 2015).
Administrators who both reflected on successful practices and shared their stories in group
meetings were more likely to contribute to improved practices for the organization. In settings
where directors often rotate in and out for brief periods of leadership, staff can be custodians of
valuable “social capital” that has the potential to foster a deeper commitment among all
stakeholders in an organization (Calabrese, 2015). In sum, faculty, peers, and staff can serve as
agents that can facilitate support in various experiences and interactions in research settings.
Experiences That Enhance the Development of Researchers
PhD students leverage a combination of complex relationships in advancing their
academic and research goals. These experiences with faculty, peers, and staff not only take place
in formal interactions such as classes, exams, and dissertation writing but also through informal
engagement through conversations outside the classroom during writing workshops, conferences,
and collaborative partnerships via research assistantships. Among the academic norms in PhD
education are expectations that PhD students will develop the skills needed to publish their
scholarship, often with the added pressure to submit articles to academic journals prior to
completing the degree. In a study of the factors influencing research productivity among business
faculty, White et al. (2012) found that situational or environmental conditions are greater
predictors of success than individual traits such as time-management skills or writing ability.
Among the factors that are most essential to the development of productive researchers are
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mentorship; attending conferences; affiliation with a research group, such as a lab or center;
taking part in writing groups or workshops; and access to research funds as well as support
writing grant applications (Browning et al., 2014). Junior scholars, including PhD students as
well as assistant professors prior to receiving tenure, benefit from working in environments that
allow them to interact with other successful researchers (Browning et al., 2014). Mentorship,
writing workshops, and research assistantships in graduate programs initiate students to the many
benefits of collaboration and co-authorship that can shape a productive career.
Mentorship
A study of networking in various professional settings showed that mentoring is seen as a
“range of interrelated systems” that can provide support throughout the career of the mentee
(Rush & Wheeler, 2011, p. 222). In a study on a new model of research support for a university
psychology department, Rush and Wheeler (2011) found that junior faculty expressed a strong
desire for mentoring from senior faculty. Collaborative research partnerships can also help
scholars overcome an individualistic research culture that can perpetuate a competitive climate
among junior faculty (Tynan & Garbett, 2007). Collaboration can be paired with funding support
and mentorship with more senior scholars as well as with professional development programs
designed to enhance specific skills.
Women and junior faculty of color who do not experience the benefits of collaborative
partnerships with postdoctoral fellows or visiting scholars also report greater difficulty obtaining
research funding and accessing potential mentors (Tynan & Garbett, 2007). Identifying the right
mentors is essential to successful socialization (Twale et al., 2016). Some women report seeing
“secondary advisors” to compensate for ineffective chairs or mentors, specifically someone who
33

takes interest in their personal lives (Twale et al., 2016). The potential pool of mentors can be
expanded by maintaining a diverse faculty (Twale et al., 2016).
Membership in an active group of researchers is a predictor of individual output
(Browning et al., 2014). Mentoring can lead to gains in research productivity, especially when
the collaboration takes place outside of the junior scholar’s own institution (Browning et al.,
2014; Rush & Wheeler, 2011). For example, programming that features frequent guest scholars
in the form of lectures, conferences, or workshops expands networking opportunities for all
parties, including the very same guest scholars.
Scholars of color require added support to overcome an additional layer of barriers. A
study by Urrieta Jr. et al. (2015) adopts the term supervivencia from Galvan (2011), who defined
it as “a state beyond mere survival encompassing the full intricacies of people of color’s
everyday survivance, including unending resourcefulness, creativity, and resiliency despite
difficult conditions” (Urrieta Jr. et al., 2015, p. 1161). This form of mentorship includes
community commitments, collaboration, cooperation, and mentoring for Latinx faculty.
Mentorship thus spans formal and informal settings.
Writing Workshops
Many PhD students in graduate programs across all fields lack adequate writing skills, let
alone the theoretical and methodological tools required to master academic writing (Busl et al.,
2015). While course readings and classroom discussions expose students to exemplary writing,
students seldom present full drafts of articles in class (Papen & Thériault, 2018). Meanwhile,
many students serve as teaching assistants, leaving less time to devote to developing their
research and writing skills. Academic conferences provide some structure, giving students the
opportunity to both observe and practice presentations (Hussain, 2018). To succeed as academic
34

writers, PhD students must take advantage of professional development programs and
mentorship outside the classroom.
While the primary focus of PhD students is the production of a dissertation, the reality is
that job candidates with more publications to their name have an advantage on the job market
(Hussain, 2018). One survey of 1,285 PhD graduates from an unnamed Big Ten university
revealed average submission rates for social science students prior to the completion of the
dissertation—4.45 articles for men and 3.68 for women (Lubienski et al., 2018). The same group
yielded a publication rate of 3.45 articles for men and 2.95 for women. In a study of publishing
productivity among 500 PhD students in four social science disciplines, Hatch and Skipper
(2016) found that the average number of published articles per graduating student is 4.3. The
average for political science students is 2, including one article co-authored with an adviser.
Anxiety can hinder students from accomplishing the goal of publishing one or two
articles before completing a PhD program (Scott & Miller, 2017). Such anxiety can reduce
feelings of competency. Houston (2014) identifies two factors that can improve a feeling of self-
efficacy: practicing professional development skills and taking advantage of available resources.
Parker et al. (2015) went a step further, proclaiming that “apprentice experiences” are not simply
valued but are a necessity, including publication and writing workshops. In addition to enhancing
basic writing skills, workshops foster reflective practice skills and provide opportunities for peer-
to-peer mentorship. Effective reflective practice techniques include the rigorous exploration of
personal experiences and knowledge with the goal of enhancing understanding and advancing
professional practice (Cahusac de Caux et al., 2017).
A successful workshop not only focuses on writing competence but also on developing
inter-relational skills with colleagues that are critical to developing research in a community
35

setting (Kornhaber et al., 2016). Olvido (2021) refers to the gestation-expansion-maturation
theory of the development of research culture in describing the research outputs of informants
from a study of seven teacher education institutions. For example, writing manuscripts is part of
the gestation period of production, whereas presenting or publishing papers is part of the
expansion stage. The paradigm (Olvido, 2021) includes an initiating stage (gestation), a
developing stage (expansion), and a flourishing stage (maturation). Thus, a supportive
environment for writing and publishing support draws on multiple relationships and resources.
Research Assistantships
PhD students are not simply beneficiaries of a successful research culture but active
contributors as well. They support faculty as research assistants and teaching assistants, leading
both introductory and advanced courses for undergraduates (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012). While
research and teaching assistantships are integral to the graduate school experience, not all PhD
students have equal access to the two forms of professional development and training. During a
typical 5-year PhD program, only 40% of PhD students serve as research assistants (Ampaw &
Jaeger, 2012). Research assistantships can lead to co-authorship with faculty supervisors,
collaborative presentations at academic conferences, and access to funds through association
with well-connected faculty mentors. Students who serve as research assistantships tend to be
more integrated into a department or research community, both academically and socially,
thereby enhancing the skills needed to develop and maintain collaborative relationships
throughout a career (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012). Conversely, teaching assistant commitments can
detract from the research career objectives of PhD students, increasing the time to degree while
also decreasing the probability of degree completion. By comparison, research assistantships
36

decrease time to degree and increase the chances of degree completion as compared to students
funded by other categories of support (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012).
These variations in completion rate by type of funding and mentorship opportunity are
especially notable among first-generation and underrepresented students. For example, there can
be notable differences between White students and students of color in degree completion rates
due to the disparate impact such opportunities can have on the students’ critical development of a
research agenda. For example, a lack of opportunity obtaining research assistantships at a critical
juncture in a student’s academic development can lead to isolation and marginalization (Ampaw
& Jaeger, 2012; Jaeger et al., 2009). Participation in an environment that fosters collegial
relationships with faculty is essential to smoothing the path to research assistant opportunities
(Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012).
A student’s role as either a research assistant or teaching assistant also has implications
on their overall development through the degree program. For example, students who work as
research assistants are more likely to successfully navigate the transitions from coursework to the
ABD stage to successful defense of the dissertation than students who receive any other form of
funding support (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012). Conversely, students with teaching assistantships do
not have any advantage over students who never serve as teaching assistants in navigating the
completion and final defense of the dissertation (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012). Thus, beyond the
funding support, the form of assistantships has direct implications on retention and persistence,
with a strong correlation on the role relationships with faculty members can play in enhancing a
student’s academic and social network (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012). Furthermore, teaching
assistants can be counterproductive in the ways they undermine a student’s ability to both
complete their research and to integrate into the academic community (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012).
37

Meanwhile, underrepresented students are more likely to drop out during the coursework phase
(roughly years one to three) due to challenges integrating into the community (Ampaw & Jaeger,
2012). Evidence thus shows the importance of ensuring opportunities to serve as research
assistants.
Research Centers and Institutes
Research centers can serve as ideal settings for enhancing access for social science
students to research training and resources. A successful research career begins with research
training inside and outside of the classroom, attending and presenting at conferences, and
publishing in academic journals (Browning et al., 2014). Academic units such as departments
and research centers with a commitment to support tend to produce more publications than other
units of comparable size (Browning et al., 2014). Characteristics of leadership within such
productive units include faculty who themselves have benefitted from mentorship throughout
their careers, including a commitment to supervising and publishing with students, co-authoring
with colleagues (both senior and junior), and maintaining strong connections and networks. In
these supportive settings, PhD students have access to professional development and are
encouraged to present their work at conferences, apply for research funding, and receive
mentorship, often from several faculty in addition to their dissertation chairs (Browning et al.,
2014). Two factors stand out among all others in predicting strong individual output: faculty-
student collaboration and membership in a research group (Browning, et al., 2014). The
development of researchers is less about teaching students how to do research, but rather about
showing aspiring scholars how to build a track record for their research, including participation
in writing workshops and developing a systematic career plan separate from the components that
form a dissertation (Browning et al., 2014).
38

Graduate Student Socialization Framework
The process of socialization is different for each student. While students take active roles
in their own socialization, the complex process requires support from many stakeholders,
including faculty, peers, and staff (Austin, 2010). The experiences of graduate students can be
divided into stages, according to several variations of models that are distinct from student
development theories describing undergraduate experiences. While theories on undergraduates
address issues such as persistence, well-being, and a sense of belonging, models on graduate
students situate concrete milestones such as coursework, examinations, and a dissertation within
a framework of socialization, which is a longitudinal process in which new members internalize
the expectations and standards of a group, in this case graduate school. It includes learning and
adopting the skills, habits, and values of the group (Austin & McDaniels, 2006; Braxton &
Baird, 2001; Gardner, 2009; Roska et al., 2018). The graduate student socialization framework
(Weidman et. al. 2001) is a four-stage model based on Astin’s theory of involvement (1984,
1999), which includes three elements: inputs, environments, and outputs (see Figure 3). Thus, the
first stage of the framework, the anticipatory stage, serves as the input; the formal and informal
stages represent the environments; and the personal stage is the output of the model. The
anticipatory stage includes the period prior to the entry to graduate school up to the exposure to
new procedures and routines. The formal stage begins with what we consider to be the early
stages of a graduate program, including coursework, when new students absorb the expectations
of the discipline and profession from more advanced peers and faculty. The informal stage might
occur simultaneously to the formal stage but factors in experiences outside the classroom and
events beyond contact with faculty as course instructors, dissertation chairs, or dissertation
committee members. This is where we begin seeing a separation among students who might be
39

more adept mastering and balancing relationships than others. Finally, in the personal stage a
student has internalized the expectations from the earlier stages and has moved into a new
professional identity (Weidman et al., 2001).
Spanning the three stages are five conceptual elements:
• Student background (including preparation, predispositions)
• higher education institutions (institutional culture, including academic program and
peer climate as well as socialization processes such as interaction, integration, and
learning)
• personal communities (family, friends, employers)
• disciplinary/professional communities (such as practitioners and associations)
• career/life-cycle development (commitment, identity)
One shortcoming of the model from Weidman et al. (2001) is an absence of
acknowledging the variable role institutions might play, especially for underrepresented students.
Twale et al. (2016) adapted the framework by adding individual and institutional characteristics,
especially pertaining to underrepresented student populations and various institutional
characteristics that can serve as barriers to socialization (Twale et al., 2016). Although the
process occurs in stages, the authors of the revised model emphasize how the process is
cumulative; the sequence can vary depending on individual and institutional characteristics
(Twale et al., 2016). The expanded model addressed the need for institutional agents in a setting
to improve support systems for students of color that focus on the student’s development and
acknowledges the setting’s sociocultural climate and context (Twale et al., 2016).
Theories of socialization are often combined with references to cultural or social capital,
which address how the formation of knowledge and skills translates to mobility and status in
40

academic settings (Bourdieu, 1986; Gopaul, 2016; Twale et al., 2016). In a study on graduate
students’ socialization to equity, diversity, and inclusion, Perez et al. (2020) challenge the
limitations of the socialization model (Twale et al., 2016) by placing it within a theory of
organizational socialization that describes how people advancing to a new organizational
position are exposed to status, structure, and roles through others within the organization. The
graduate student socialization framework, according to Perez et al. (2020), is limited because of
its unidirectional conception and its failure to recognize the individual’s agency.
Other scholars offer slight variations on the graduate student socialization framework. In
a study on PhD students during their first three years in biology programs across the nation,
Roska et al. (2018) break down the socialization of graduate students into three stages. The first
stage includes the period in which a prospective student is considering entering a program and
ends when the coursework begins. Students who master this stage will develop a strong
foundation as researchers during their undergraduate studies and develop the kinds of
relationships with faculty that will lead to strong letters of recommendation. The stage
culminates after a program is selected by the student and they meet faculty and fellow students,
review the courses, and learn the expectations from their department.
The second stage begins with the start of coursework, including affiliation with a research
entity such as a lab or research center, where relationships form with a mentor and the research
agenda of a faculty member crystalizes into a dissertation topic for the student. The stage ends
with the critical milestones that mark the transition to ABD status: completion of coursework;
taking and passing comprehensive exams; and choosing committee members.
The third and final stage in this model is the most challenging, including the transitional
features that transform the student to a faculty member, writing and completing the dissertation,
41

collaborating with an advisor on additional projects, entering the academic job market, and
preparing for a career beyond graduation (Roska et al., 2018; Weidman et al., 2001). While the
previous two stages intersect more formally with academic departments, this third stage straddles
the period before and after the completion of coursework. Outcomes for students can be
contingent on contrasting sources of support outside the academic program, which might
manifest in an inequitable playing field on the job market.
Other studies pose slight variations of this socialization model. A study on the effect of
financial aid and labor market conditions on retention and persistence in graduate programs
(Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012) bases the stages on Tinto’s (1993) institutional doctoral persistence
model and human capital theory (Bowen & Rudenstine, 1992). This model acknowledges the
influence that individual characteristics and experiences can play on a student’s formation of
goals and potential to form relationships with faculty and peers in a program. It also
distinguishes how the factors that influence the student’s progression through one stage, such as
development, differ from what is needed to succeed in another stage, such as research (Tinto,
1993). The model divides students’ experiences into three stages: transition, development, and
research (Ampaw & Jaeger, 2012). The transition stage describes the period in which students
begin taking doctoral classes and start adjusting to the expectations imposed by faculty and the
academic program. During the development stage, students complete coursework, develop their
skills as researchers, and start forming the research agenda that will comprise the focus of their
dissertation. The period concludes with the presentation of a dissertation proposal. The research
stage encapsulates the time devoted to producing the dissertation, culminating with the defense
of the dissertation and obtaining the PhD degree.

42

Figure 3
Conceptualizing Socialization of Students in Higher Education

Note: From Socialization in higher education and the early career: Theory, research, and
application (Vol. 7), by J. C. Weidman & L. DeAngelo, L. (Eds.), 2020), p. 314. Copyright 2020
by Springer International Publishing. (Adapted from Twale et al., 2016; Weidman, 2006, 2015;
Weidman et al., 2001; constructs with different names from Weidman, 2006, are highlighted.)
43

The Lab as a Setting for Socialization
A STEM lab provides an opportunity for assessing the graduate student socialization
framework in an organizational setting. Rodriguez et al. (2022) adopt the framework to assess
the role played by STEM labs in facilitating socialization for students of color. The authors point
out how little research focuses on the lab setting as a locus of graduate student development and
professionalization even though students spend a great deal of time in this setting. The study is
particularly relevant since so much research training occurs in the setting, often in collaboration
with faculty, postdoctoral fellows, lab managers, and graduate peers (Borrego et al., 2017; Burt,
2017). The participation of undergraduates also adds yet another opportunity for graduate
students to develop as mentors. Socialization in this type of setting includes both team-based
learning as well as informal peer review. In fact, student-to-student support has as much potential
as faculty support in fostering and shaping the formation of the graduate student’s identity as a
professional, a key milestone in transition to the fourth and final stage of the framework
(personal). But for first-generation students, these settings can also be sites of isolation,
competition, and dysfunction, report the authors. In fact, team-based learning environments can
become problematic for students with contrasting levels of support and knowledge (Perez et al.,
2020). Thus, settings that prove to be hostile to first-generation students can lead to the pursuit of
support outside the lab or even outside of the academy (Rodriguez et al., 2022).
Ecological Systems Theory
Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory (1979, 1993, 2005; Renn & Arnold, 2003)
includes four components that together help higher education practitioners understand how
campus environments can promote or hinder development: process, person, context, and time
(PPCT) (Patton et al., 2016; Renn & Arnold, 2003). Process is a central component of the model
44

and consists of various types of interactions between the student and their environment—which
Bronfenbrenner calls “proximal processes”—which occur over time and lead to development
(Bronfenbrenner & Morris, 2006; Patton et al., 2016). The context is made up of multiple
spheres of influence that consist of four nested levels of the environment ranging from the most
immediate to the most distant: microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem, macrosystem. A fifth level,
the chronosystem, includes historical contexts, events, and temporal dimensions. By
acknowledging the essential role played by environments and the many individuals (faculty,
peers, staff) that operate within them, Bronfenbrenner’s model highlights the influences of
various interactions and overlapping forces in the development of students. The model also
acknowledges how differences among students (race, class, gender, identity) influence the types
of engagements they experience. By scrutinizing these dynamics and adopting a complex
understanding of these forces, practitioners can introduce interventions that will improve the
environment for students. The model allows higher education practitioners to explore how the
environment—and the students’ interaction within it—form their identity (Evans et al., 2017;
Renn & Arnold, 2003).
A Culture of Ecological Validation
The ecological systems theory helps to frame studies of first-generation PhD students, the
influence of the dissertation advisor relationship, and the dissertation writing process. Kezar et
al. (2022) adopted the model in their study of the Thompson Scholar Learning Community
(TSLC), consisting of “at-promise” undergraduates who they say benefit from “holistic,
proactive, strengthens-oriented, identity conscious, collaborative and reflective norms” that
together form “a culture of ecological validation” (p. 1). In presenting the model, the authors
emphasize the importance of faculty, staff, and administrators embedding deliberate practices
45

into their work. Alignment with other campus organizations and programs is also recommended
to avoid disconnected or redundant systems that can prove to be counterproductive to student
development (Tinto, 2012). The study pairs ecological systems theory with the concept of
validation, which posits that the development of students occurs both inside and outside of the
classroom setting and is contingent on the many professionals who confirm and support the
student’s identity (Rendón, 1994). The focus is more on process than outcome. Rendón (1994)
distinguishes between interpersonal and academic validation. Interpersonal validation refers to
support for social and personal interactions, whereas academic validation is the process in which
faculty or staff help students develop their innate capacity to learn (Kezar et al., 2022). Critical to
this process is the understanding that student engagement unfolds in multiple environments and
that a form of synergy occurs in various support contexts rather than as a single or isolated
phenomenon. In context to ecological systems theory, features of the microsystem might have
the strongest effect on a student’s development, but they are impacted by features of the
mesosystem. Together these two models (from Bronfenbrenner and Rendón) form “ecological
validation,” which is more than the adoption and implementation of support programs such as
mentorship or advising; ecological validation also requires one to focus on how the programs are
enacted (Kezar et al., 2022). The pattern of validation mirrors the four components of the PPCT
model in terms of the person being validated; the process of validation; the context in which
validation takes place, such as multiple environments; and the time of validation (Kezar et al.,
2022). By advocating for a holistic model, practitioners will be able to address the interactions
that take place within the microsystems as well as the sources that might come from the
mesolevel.

46

Support for International Students
Another study explores the role dissertation chairs or supervisors play, particularly for
international students needing to bridge their own culture to the culture of the academy (Elliot &
Kobayashi, 2019). Using Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory, the authors show how
supervisors’ awareness of the interconnections between students’ social and academic world can
enhance their adjustment to the interactions that occur in graduate school, with particular
emphasis to the important role they can play in informal interactions. Among the challenges of
the faculty-student relationship is a lack of intercultural competency in the faculty member,
which can lead to unaligned expectations in the supervisor-student relationship (Elliott &
Kobayashi, 2019). Such issues are termed “intensifiers” by Winchester-Seeto et al. (2014) and
include differences in language, cultural background, and stereotypes, as well as a disjunction
between the student’s home and academic environments (Elliott & Kobayashi, 2019).
Bronfenbrenner’s (1979, 1993, 2005) ecological systems theory provides the context for
understanding the significance of the interconnected influences among the various environments
experienced by international students and how the faculty supervisors, as agents in the
mesosystem, can facilitate development and growth by building greater competencies and
understanding in themselves.
Supporting the Writing Process
Ciampa and Wolfe (2019) applied Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory to
doctoral students’ perceptions of the dissertation writing process, an interaction that straddles
formal and informal socialization. The study covers intrapersonal, interpersonal, and institutional
factors that contribute to writing effectiveness, such as self-directed learning, peer and faculty
support, and writing-based pedagogical-practices, respectively. The study spotlights the
47

microsystem, where the students interact with their immediate environments, including faculty
and peer groups; as well as the exosystem, where stakeholders influence policies and play critical
roles in, on one hand, how resources are allocated or, on the other, interventions, thereby
impacting the development of the students (Arnold et al., 2012). The authors explore
participants’ sense of efficacy and intrinsic motivation in context with coursework
implementation. Findings of this research highlighted both interpersonal and institutional factors
that could lead to greater success. Other interpersonal factors include participating in team
writing workshops and enhancement of networking opportunities. Institutional factors expanded
beyond informal peer-to-peer feedback to include formal pedagogical courses and university-
wide writing resources.
Conceptual Framework
The conceptual framework for this study draws from components of the graduate student
socialization framework (Twale et al., 2016; Weidman et al., 2001; Weidman & DeAngelo,
2020) and the ecological systems theory (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005), which together
represent the complexity and dynamism of first-generation PhD students interacting with agents
in various environments of research support. Both models describe student development within
environmental systems. Thus, the five systems of the ecological systems model can be merged
with the five conceptual elements of the graduate student socialization framework (see Figure 3)
to create a heightened framework for assessing engagement of students and the agents they
encounter in their development.
Recall that the three central conceptual elements of the graduate student socialization
framework—disciplinary/professional communities, higher ed institutions, and personal
communities—comprise the environment portion of what is essentially an input-environment-
48

output (I-E-O) model; these three conceptual elements also double as the loci of the framework’s
formal and informal stages. Due to the limitations of this study, I will focus primarily on the
conceptual element at the center of the model, higher ed institutions, which includes faculty and
peer climate as well as academic fields, among other characteristics.
In my newly proposed conceptual framework for this study, the various interactions of
formal and informal socialization from the graduate student socialization framework (such as
research assistantships, mentorship, and writing workshops) are depicted as kinetic “zones of
engagement,” spiraling within, beyond, and through the nested environments of the ecological
systems model (see Figure 4). The term engagement was added to the graduate student
socialization framework by Weidman (2006) as a core element of socialization (depicted in the
higher ed institutions setting), joining knowledge acquisition, investment, and involvement. The
term engagement not only conveys the extent of a student’s participation in activities and their
perceptions of institutional support, but also addresses the action an institution can and should
take to enhance student engagement (Kuh, 2001; Weidman, 2006; Weidman et al., 2001;
Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020; Wolf-Wendel et al., 2009).

49

Figure 4
Zones of Engagement in Graduate Student Socialization

Note: Adapted from Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems model and the graduate student
socialization framework from Socialization in higher education and the early career: Theory,
research, and application (Vol. 7), by J. C. Weidman & L. DeAngelo, L. (Eds.), 2020), p. 314.
The student is highlighted in red; an example of a dynamic agent, a research center, is
highlighted in gold to indicate movement and influence on both the student and the various zones
of engagement (research assistantships, mentorship, writing workshops).

As in the ecological systems model, the person (PhD student) is at the center of the model.
However, the new model shows how an agent (the research center in Figure 4) is not simply a
50

static entity within one of the systems (such as the mesosystem) but is a responsive force on both
the student as well as on the various zones of engagement. Movement is constant, with each zone
reacting in response to other zones. As time passes, the zones—represented in the model as
atom-like spheres—grow larger, representing the momentum taking place as a student is
influenced and impacted by the gravity and magnitude of the growing forces, to borrow from the
allusions represented in the drawing.
Zones, in this context, are the interactive settings of formal and informal activities such as
writing workshops, research assistantships, or mentorship, which cannot be relegated to any one
system in the ecological systems model. For example, writing workshops might begin with the
foundation of a strong mentor-student relationship representative of a first-year student who does
not yet venture with any purpose beyond the microsystem; but with growth and development
through writing workshops, a student could begin expanding into national associations,
conferences, publishing, and the job search, which are activities that span into the exosystem or
macrosytem; likewise, in the graduate student socialization framework, this expansiveness grows
beyond the formal and informal stages and into the personal stage, where development
culminates with the formation of a professional identity. In the new conceptual framework, then,
the spherical illustration depicting the zone of writing workshops would be shown larger than
what it might have appeared in an earlier stage of development.
The purpose of this new model is not to isolate each zone of interaction but rather to
represent the complexity and simultaneity of multiple formal and informal socialization activities
and to strive for balance and proportion among these forces that together foster growth for the
student at the center of the framework. Indeed, the greatest indicator of success is the complexity
of the student’s scholarly community (Devos, 2018). A model community, according to Vekkaila
51

et al. (2012), consists of “a complex, nested entity,” including various overlapping communities
such as peer students, research teams, and academics from outside the program or home
university (p. 154). Among the embedded entities within this web are discipline, institution,
department, lab, and the student-advisor relationship (Devos, 2012). A strong awareness of
membership in a scholarly community (including supervisor, peers, department, and so on) leads
to a greater likelihood of persistence and well-being. Thus, a model emphasizing zones of
engagement allows practitioners to spotlight components of both the ecological systems model
and the graduate student socialization framework that contribute to this much needed complexity
and thereby enhance a culture of research support for the student.
Below I review features of the graduate student socialization framework and ecological
systems model that inform this new conceptual framework, especially related to perceptions of
environment and the interactions within those environments.
Environments Within Environments: The Context of Development
The five nested systems of the ecological systems model—microsystem, mesosystem,
exosystem, macrosystem, and chronosystem—comprise the context of the theory, as in person-
process-context-time (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005). The synergy among components
(such as purpose, person, context) becomes the area in which development occurs. That is, each
student encounters the forces of agents within various settings to lead to development, albeit at
different rates and with different outcomes, depending on the nature of experiences that can
either inhibit or facilitate growth (Patton et al., 2016). For example, in the system closest to the
student in the model—the microsystem—we see activities and interpersonal relationships from
the individual’s day-to-day world, including family and friends in their personal lives, but also
the peers, faculty, and staff who they encounter in their graduate program. The microsystem is
52

not a set of distinct entities but rather the overlapping pattern of such interpersonal relationships
that contribute to progressively complex environment (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005; Patton
et al., 2016). Within these engagements, students are forming their identity. The microsystem
consists of many entities, some of which are as intimate as family, friends, and religious
community, while others can be as formal or detached as faculty relationships and classes
(Patton et al., 2016; Renn & Arnold, 2003).
By placing a unit or organization within this model, we are putting the emphasis on the
synergy that is generated when the students interact with the environment. Therefore, each entity
within the mesosystem acts as a facilitator of forces that occur in the microsystem as well is in
the systems beyond the mesosystem. While many studies focus only on one agent within the
microsystem, proponents of an ecological approach would choose to explore all interactions
among the various agents (Patton et al., 2016). Such linkages among two or more settings form
the second system in the model—the mesosystem. This is where the academic department and
other units reside.
The system that surrounds the mesosystem is the exosystem. Since it is further from the
person, it is not necessarily an environment where we will find direct examples of student
development and engagement. Rather, it is where we see greater influences and forces on the
environments for the entities within both the micro- and mesosystems, such as policies and
procedures of larger organizations such as the graduate division, the university, or the leadership
or associations of the discipline or field. These entities within the mesosystem exert forces that
further heighten the awareness of how entities within the mesosystem might filter, deflect, or
amplify such forces as they make contact with the person engaged with entities in the
microsystem. Put more concretely, how might individuals and units in the various systems adapt
53

to national or university policies around international students? How do they adapt to financial
pressures such as increased tuition or decreases in fellowships? In essence, the exosystem is a
space for understanding the many external factors that can directly influence the day-to-day
environment of an individual. Faculty or staff who operate in the mesosytem can become a
prism, so to speak, for refracting or deflecting policies and forces deriving from the exosystem
with a heightened awareness of how the diversity of student experiences (race, class, identity)
can lead to different outcomes if not for the adoption of selective interventions.
A similar process plays out for the fourth sphere, the macrosystem, where larger cultural,
social, and political issues might intersect with the spheres of the micro-, meso-, and exosystems
(Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005). In the macrosystem, a student’s developmental trajectory is
impacted by cultural—and often biased—norms related to gender, race, and ethnicity (Renn &
Arnold, 2003).
In addition to process, person, and context, the ecological systems theory addresses the
role of time, not just within the day-to-day lives of the person but within the wider culture
encompassing the ever-widening systems of the model. Time is broken down into microtime,
mesotime, and macrotime. While microtime and mesotime refer to the concrete units and
periodicity of experiences in discrete intervals such as days, weeks, and so on, macrotime
incorporates the changes in expectations and events in the larger culture and across history and
how such forces might affect development on an individual basis. So, for example, the long
dominance of White male privilege in academia and all aspects of society has given way only
incrementally. Today’s first-generation PhD students are not only operating within worlds of
concrete challenges resulting from their direct experiences from their home life or high school
backgrounds but as a cumulative outcome of historical forces (Bronfenbrenner & Morris, 2006).
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Environments as Stages
Rather than dividing environments into five systems, as in the ecological systems model,
the graduate student socialization framework features five conceptual elements spread across
four stages, a structure derived from Astin’s theory of involvement (1984, 1999), which includes
three elements: inputs, environments, and outputs (I-E-O). The graduate student socialization
framework places three conceptual elements as the environment of the model, straddling the
middle two stages of formal and informal socialization: disciplinary/professional communities,
higher ed institutions, and personal communities (see Figure 3). For example, the family, friends,
employers, and colleagues from the model’s personal communities would be among the agents
within the microsystem of the ecological system model, closest to the student at the center of the
model.
The graduate student socialization framework differs from the ecological systems model
in its use of stages to allude to development or progression, although the authors explain that
development does not necessarily occur sequentially in any predictable fashion. For example, the
stage model’s placement on a horizontal axis conveys movement forward, although any one
stage can include elements of a previous or subsequent stage. Also of note is that the vertical
axis, with disciplinary/professional communities at the top and personal communities at the
bottom, aligns the three elements on the horizontal plane that have the greatest influence within
higher education settings (student background, higher ed institutions, career/life cycle
development). Furthermore, the dotted lines and overlapping boundaries of each of the five
elements show how the stages are “permeable and iterative rather than fixed” (Weidman &
DeAngelo, 2020, p. 313).
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The higher ed institutions element from Weidman and DeAngelo (2020) reflects updates
on earlier versions (Twale et al., 2016; Weidman, 2015; Weidman et al., 2014), which are meant
to acknowledge the impact of the higher education setting on students from “more broadly-based
perspectives” (Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020, p. 313). The modified framework, thus, responds to
earlier criticisms that the model didn’t address student agency and institutional impact, while
also having a bias toward a “White male norm” (p. 313). The term history, for example,
recognizes the role of institutional history and diversity “as it relates to institutional type and size
as well as student and faculty compositions (type/size),” including legacies of exclusion that still
impact students today (p. 314).
Many individuals and organizations intersect with students in the graduate student
socialization framework, just as they do in the ecological systems model. Movement of the
prospective student to advanced student to PhD candidate and then graduate takes place among
the university setting, which includes the academic program and the shared values of peers.
Other personal communities such as friends and family are additional factors, as are the
professional organizations and associations that host annual conferences or publish journals.
Socialization thus unfolds through interactions with other individuals, integration into shared
professional values with peers and faculty, and the development of learning, or specific skills and
knowledge that form the foundation of the new profession as a faculty member (Sweitzer, 2009).
The framework acknowledges that graduate students are participants in several communities
simultaneously (such as the department, the discipline, the university).
Understanding Student Agency
The ecological system theory provides an opportunity to explore the interactivity of
person-agent-zone in the new conceptual framework—that is, the PhD student engaging with an
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agent (such as department, advisor, research center) within a zone of engagement (such as
mentorship, research assistantships, and writing workshops). Practitioners well acquainted with
the ecological systems model can either introduce greater complexity to the environment when
the student is ready, or they can buffer forces to avoid overwhelming the student (Patton et al.,
2016). In a research setting, this might manifest as an increased awareness among staff and
faculty that students bring different knowledge and background to the various activities and
procedures they encounter in graduate school, such as attending academic conferences or
applying for funding. There is no one system for all, so to speak.
Bronfenbrenner (1979, 1993, 2005) recognized that each individual has attributes that
will either induce or inhibit engagement with the environment. Known as “developmentally
instigative characteristics,” they consist of four types, including a tendency to either “invite or
inhibit responses from the environment,” which might manifest in the ways students either seek
out help and support from faculty, peers, or staff, or conversely refrain from pursuing assistance
(Patton et al., 2016, p. 42). Second, students have what can be called “selective responsivity,”
which means that they each approach their surroundings differently, some choosing to join
organizations while others remain on their own. Third, those students who tend to be most
successful in graduate programs have strong “structuring proclivities,” which means they tend to
challenge themselves and persist through increasingly complex activities that lead directly to
their professional development, such as regular participation in writing workshops, fostering
relationships with faculty both within and beyond their dissertation committee, and actively
engaging in networking at conferences and other programs. A fourth feature of persons in this
model is “directive beliefs,” which represents the level of agency students bring to their own
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development. Students who recognize that hard work gets results will tend to move
systematically toward successful outcomes (Renn & Arnold, 2003).
In a typical research setting, proactive students who faithfully attend workshops and
volunteer to present their work, attend conferences, and network with visiting scholars tend to
accelerate through the program. Passive practitioners unaware of the complexity of the
ecological systems model will assume that the onus of action rests on the students, for better or
worse, whereas faculty and staff well-versed in the model will reflect on how their institution or
units perpetuate conditions in the environment that hinder the development of students less
disposed to the four components described above (Patton et al., 2016). In sum, developmentally
instigative characteristics not only have a direct correlation to how an individual engages with an
environment, but also how that environment responds to an individual. The space where
interactions occur between person and environment is therefore laden with complex forces.
Engagement, agency, and agents
The proposed feature of “zones of engagement” in the new conceptual framework arises
from a component of the graduate student socialization framework. Weidman & DeAngelo
(2020) explain that the italicized terms listed under the heading higher ed institutions serve to
link various experiences and influences to “antecedents in the college impact literature” (p. 26).
Among these terms are knowledge acquisition, investment, involvement, and engagement. By
situating these terms closely with the three terms listed under socialization processes (interaction,
integration, learning), the authors are referencing a robust archive of literature for anchoring an
exploration of the various forces at play in both formal and informal socialization (see Figure 5).
For example, knowledge acquisition, can occur formally and informally through courses and
interpersonal interaction with peers and faculty, drawing on the literature on the impact of
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college environments on students by Pascarella (1985). Linkages are also made to the literature
around involvement (Astin, 1984), engagement (Kuh et al., 1991), and integration (Tinto, 1975,
1993).

Figure 5
Higher Ed Institutions of the Graduate Student Socialization Framework

Note: Detail from Socialization in higher education and the early career: Theory, research, and
application (Vol. 7), by J. C. Weidman & L. DeAngelo, L. (Eds.), 2020), p. 314. Copyright 2020
by Springer International Publishing. (Adapted from Twale et al., 2016; Weidman, 2006, 2015;
Weidman et al., 2001; constructs with different names from Weidman, 2006, are highlighted.)

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While an exploration of each of these theories is beyond the scope of this study, it is
helpful to draw out common areas among these theories that inform my proposed conceptual
framework. The various terms are not interchangeable, as discussed by Wolf-Wendel et al.
(2009) in a helpful essay on the concepts of involvement, engagement, and integration in student
development. In reviewing the evolution of the graduate student socialization framework,
Weidman & DeAngelo (2020) offered their own clarifications of these three terms and others,
given their complex histories. For example, their use of the term integration emphasizes the
degree to which students absorb attitudes and beliefs from both peers and faculty while also
adopting their institutional culture (Pascarella & Terenzini, 1991; Tinto, 1993). By addressing the
term in context to minoritized students, they are attempting to move beyond a prior assumption
in which integration occurred only in one direction with no regard for student agency (Weidman
& DeAngelo, 2020, p. 315). Integration, as clarified by Wolf-Wendel et al. (2009), “is most
important for students in their first year at an institution” (p. 416). The term refers to the
formation of relationships as well as being “a measure of student knowledge of campus cultural
norms” (Wolf-Wendel et al., 2009, p. 416).
Another critical term in the impact literature that influences the graduate student
socialization framework is involvement. According to Astin, involvement is the amount of
physical and psychological energy a student devotes to his/her academic experience (1984).
Over the years, the graduate student socialization framework has described this term differently,
touching on the level of student involvement vis-à-vis faculty, more advanced students, role
identity, and commitment (Weidman et al., 2001; Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020). “The deeper the
level of involvement and the greater the student’s accomplishment in the department,” state
Weidman et al. (2001), “the greater the chance that graduate students receive strong moral and
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financial support from the faculty in their academic programs” (p. 72). Deeper immersion comes
with support systems.
According to Kuh (2001), engagement includes both the extent to which students
participate in educationally effective activities as well as their perceptions of facets of the
institutional environment that support their learning and development. Wolf-Wendel et al. (2009)
emphasize two key components of engagement: the first relates to the time and effort put into
activities by the student; and the second is how institutions of higher education dedicate
resources and support systems that encourage student support in such activities. Engagement, in
essence, is about both the student and the institution, or on a smaller scale, the student and any
agent or agents they encounter in the various environments of learning. Furthermore, students
associate positive engagement with inclusive and affirming settings, “where expectations for
performance are clearly communicated and set at reasonably high levels” (Wolf-Wendel et al.,
2009, p. 413). Critical to the adoption of the term for my proposed “zones of engagement” in this
study’s conceptual framework is that engagement differs from involvement in the way “it links
more directly to desired educational processes and outcomes and emphasizes action that the
institution can take to increase student engagement” (Wolf-Wendel et al., 2009, p. 414).
The movement and dynamism conveyed by this study’s conceptual framework for zones
of engagement also acknowledges the efforts of Twale et al. (2016), who adapted the graduate
student socialization framework to better present the specific needs of diverse student
populations interacting with various institutional conditions. Most significant in the expansion of
the earlier model is the focus on institutional change and a way to represent improved support
systems for students of color and first-generation students that both expand the students’
development and prioritize the program’s sociocultural climate and context (Twale et al., 2016).
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Racial identity is central to the model (Twale et al., 2016). Thus, more so than any other term in
the literature, engagement comes closest to encapsulating the dual roles of both student and agent
in the system.
Conclusion
A model incorporating theories on graduate student socialization and ecological systems
theory can lead to the identification of improved strategies for supporting first-generation PhD
students. Graduate study takes place in both formal and informal settings. While stage models
provide a useful temporal frame for exploring the growth and development of students, the
graduate student socialization framework does not adequately address the intersection of students
with their many environments. The student can remain the center of the model, but the
dynamism yielded in a more complex model can simultaneously spotlight the role of various
agents in the development of graduate students, particularly those who are first-generation.
This study’s conceptual framework borrows from the three socialization processes at the
center of the graduate student socialization framework: interaction, integration, and learning; as
well as from influential theories around knowledge acquisition, investment, involvement, and
engagement. A spotlight on the developmentally instigative characteristics of the person
component of the ecological systems theory further heightens an exploration of student agency in
context to socialization of first-generation PhD students. Weidman et al. (2001) acknowledged
that graduate students are participants in several communities simultaneously (such as the
department, the discipline, the university). This adapted framework provides the foundation for
embarking on qualitative interviews with eight first-generation alumni of PhD programs in social
science fields.

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Chapter Three: Methodology
The purpose of this study was to understand the factors that support and hinder the
socialization of first-generation PhD students as it relates to their access to essential resources
supporting their development as researchers, including membership in a formal or informal
research community. This study is based on two student development models that can help
higher education practitioners understand the many interactions between PhD students and their
environments. By scrutinizing these dynamics and adopting a complex understanding of these
forces, practitioners can introduce interventions that will improve the environment for students.
A greater commitment to equity and opportunity for PhD students can lead to increased diversity
among faculty in social science fields. This study will help first-generation graduate students as
well as practitioners who support PhD students.
This was a qualitative study based on interviews with eight graduates of PhD programs in
social sciences who finished between 2018 and 2023. The goal of qualitative research is to
understand the “meaning people have constructed; that is, how people make sense of their world
and the experiences they have in the world” (Merriam & Tisdell, 2016, p. 15). I adopt a
constructivist paradigm, which assumes that there are “multiple realities that can be studied and
that the researcher derives his or her understanding of these realities by working with and
through the participants’ perspectives of a given phenomenon or problem of practice”
(Lochmiller & Lester, 2017, p. 13). Creswell and Miller (2000) add that “constructivists believe
in pluralistic, interpretive, open-ended, and contextualized (e.g., sensitive to place and situation)
perspectives” (p. 126). Like all qualitative studies, this one relies on an inductive approach; that
is, it moves from a specific to a broader understanding of something, in this case, how the
experiences of first-generation PhD students in one university might inform an understanding of
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how practitioners can adjust practices for a similar population in their own diverse settings. Part
of the process of inductive research, as noted in this chapter, is in collecting and analyzing data
concurrently in the path toward identifying findings and making recommendations (Lochmiller
& Lester, 2017).
This chapter covers the methodological foundations of the study, summarizing the
research questions, the design (including methods), the setting, and my own self-assessment as a
researcher. According to Small and Calarco (2022), the term “qualitative” refers to at least three
elements in a research project: the type of data collected, the method of data collection, and the
approach to data analysis. In terms of this study, interviews comprised both the type of data and
the primary method of data collection. Thus, also covered are the strategies around the data
collection and analysis, the justifications for selecting the participants, the structure of the
interview protocol, and the instrumentation. Finally, this chapter addresses the credibility and
trustworthiness of this qualitative study and considers the ethical concerns that informed the
entire process, from conception of the study to the final writing of this dissertation.
Research Questions
This study addressed the following research questions:
1. What are the experiences of first-generation PhD students seeking research support in
social science fields at Golden State University?
2. How do first-generation PhD students’ relationships with faculty, peers, and
university staff affect their experiences identifying, accessing, and obtaining
resources supporting their research?
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Overview of Design
This study explored the experiences of first-generation PhD students who have pursued
and/or received research support from various individuals, units, and organizations within and
beyond their home institutions, including mentorship, funding, and publications support. Other
than utilizing a brief screening survey at the outset of participant selection, it relied on qualitative
methods, consisting of semi-structured interviews with eight first-generation PhD alumni from
social science fields at Golden State University. Through the interviews, I documented how the
subjects interacted within their various settings throughout their time in their PhD program.
Through qualitative interviews, I noted the students’ experiences, emotions, feelings, and
struggles, including the complexity of their individual perceptions (Patton, 2014).
I was particularly interested in exploring the participants’ activities and experiences
within various settings and at various stages of their development in their PhD program, as per
the graduate student socialization framework, including core elements of socialization
(knowledge acquisition, investment, involvement, engagement) and the three mechanisms of
socialization (interaction, integration, learning). This included both positive and challenging
experiences. My focus was not on the participants’ progress as students through various
curricular milestones such as coursework and the dissertation; rather, it was on how various
activities either enhanced or delayed the participants’ development as researchers and scholars. I
adopted several of Weiss’s (1995) reasons for conducting qualitative interviews, including
developing detailed descriptions, integrating multiple perspectives, describing a process, and
developing a holistic description. Through this process, I identified four patterns in the findings
and made five recommendations for enhancing a culture of research support for first-generation
PhD students.
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Research Setting
This study focuses on the multiple environments of eight PhD first-generation students
from social science fields at Golden State University, a large R1 private university on the West
Coast. While students specializing in the natural sciences take advantage of lab settings to find
support in the form of mentorship, funding, and publishing, support for PhD students in the
social sciences is more diffuse. Therefore, the setting for this study includes multiple
environments where PhD students find support, including their home department, research
centers and institutes, informal programming offered by other units on campus, and national
associations.
The Researcher
I am a White, cisgendered male in a leadership position at a research center supporting
faculty and PhD students specializing in international relations, a discipline related to political
science and among the social science fields in my own university environment. My basic duties
include administration of the center’s funding program supporting research of affiliated scholars,
managing the postdoctoral fellowship program, overseeing the budget, and implementing
communication and event planning in coordination with one full-time staff member and one part-
time staff member. I interact with graduate students through several initiatives, including an
annual research grant program, research assistant funding, and a series of professional
development programs.
In attempting to demonstrate my empathy with the participants, I was mindful of the
power imbalance as I asked alumni—many of whom were students of color and/or women—to
be vulnerable in sharing their concerns about persisting in the privileged space of academia.
Peshkin (1988) states that we can embrace our own subjectivity in a way that enables us to be
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aware how it shapes our inquiry and outcomes. I nonetheless was reflective of this power
dynamic. As Dei (2005) states about anti-racist research, the researcher must develop an
understanding of how their own personal characteristics can influence the direction of their
research and the way they develop relationships with their subjects. Reflexivity on an ongoing
basis can also ensure an open and transparent process (Atkins & Duckworth, 2019). Throughout
this study, I attempted to balance an adherence to procedure with a commitment to empathy and
equity, all the while enacting a mandate from Milner (2007): “Researchers … should be actively
engaged, thoughtful, and forthright regarding tensions that can surface when conducting research
where issues of race and culture are concerned” (p. 388). Student voices communicating
marginalization, when heard, can serve to reverse longstanding practices that hinder success for
first-generation PhD students.
I was not a first-generation student, but I was motivated by my own experiences as a
former PhD student in history at a major university in the 1990s; I dropped out after only two
years when I was unable to navigate essential milestones such as identifying a faculty advisor or
applying for fellowships. I believe that despite my positionality as a White male, I have some
understanding for students who have difficulty navigating a complex organizational structure.
Data Sources
The primary data source for this study were eight qualitative semi-structured interviews
with first-generation PhD students who completed a degree in a social science field between
2018 and 2023. Also used was a brief screening survey that supplemented the interview protocol.
In laying out clear guidelines and expectations, I attempted to ensure my subjects would be
committed to helping me in my goals, echoing Glesne (2016), who makes the connection
between informed consent and the possible empowerment of research participants.
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Participants
This study featured interviews with eight first-generation PhD alumni from one of four
social science departments at Golden State University and who completed their programs
between 2018 and spring 2023. I emulated the goals described by Johnson and Christensen
(2019) for purposive sampling, where researchers identify desired characteristics and then seek
out individuals with those corresponding characteristics.
The sample of eight alumni was identified through the following methods. To begin, I
sent a brief survey to program staff from four academic departments for distribution to their
alumni email lists. The academic departments included anthropology, economics, political
Science, and Sociology (see Appendix B). The message to program staff outlined the goals of the
study and the circumscribed graduation years of targeted alumni. Also included in the message to
program staff was a draft message that they could in turn forward to alumni from their programs,
also outlining the goals of this project (see Appendix C). Embedded in the message for alumni
was a request to fill out a brief screening survey (devised in Qualtrics) providing basic
information on their experiences in graduate school pursuing research support (see Appendix E).
The screening survey also gave the respondents the opportunity to indicate their interest and
availability to participate in a Zoom interview.
The goal was to select a range of students in social science fields. I did not seek to
represent a certain number of fields but rather to ensure I would have a large enough pool in
which to identify a range of participants who had experience seeking diverse forms of research
support noted on the form (research funding, research assistantships, and so on). To further
incentivize prospective participants, the form stated that all participants in interviews would be
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entered into a raffle for one of two $100 gift cards. The screening form data was collected via the
Qualtrics platform by using the option for anonymization (IP addresses were not collected).
After a respondent completed the screening form, I was prepared to send one of three
types of messages depending on what the respondent indicated at the bottom of the form in terms
of interest and availability (see Appendix D).
Despite the responsiveness and cooperation of the program staff in distributing the
messages, this method did not yield a high number of respondents. Thus, to supplement this
method, I also adopted a snowball technique with each successfully identified first-generation
alumnus, asking if they knew other first-generation alumni who were in their cohort or in the
years shortly before or after their cohort year. Furthermore, I also reviewed all PhD degree
recipients listed in annual commencement programs from Golden State University in these four
departments, available publicly via the university’s website.
Further information on alumni was gleaned from scanning dissertations of graduates, also
available publicly via the university’s digital library. For example, I extracted relevant
information from the front matter and acknowledgment pages of dissertations, including details
about first-generation status divulged by students.
I also conducted a general search on the internet, seeking CVs, biographies, and other
professional details of the graduates that are available publicly through other university websites
(if alumni had since obtained faculty positions), personal websites, or LinkedIn sites.
The eventual pool of eight participants represented a range of experiences, including
differences in background, gender, and intersections with diverse areas of research support
received, including funding, research assistantships, and participation in writing workshops,
professional development, and networking. The participants also represented variation in
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graduation year between 2018 and 2023; they also possessed a range of job outcomes, with three
out of eight choosing to work outside of academia after completing their degrees. Due to the
small number of first-generation PhD students in these four fields, I am not revealing their field
of study to preserve their confidentiality.
My final recruitment process took place over email. I sent a message thanking the
respondents for completing the initial survey and confirming that they still wished to be
interviewed while also providing them with some broad options for times for possible Zoom
interviews. I also once again explained the protocol of ensuring anonymity.
Instrumentation
My instrumentation consisted of a brief screening form and an interview protocol.
Screening Survey
The purpose of the screening survey was to ensure the prospective interview participants
fit the criteria of the study (first-generation status, field of study in the social sciences, graduation
year). Secondly, I sought to collect preliminary information from respondents in several
categories that would ensure a range of experiences (see Appendix E). In devising the 23
questions on the form, I referred to the qualitative interview protocol designed by Kitchen et al.
(2022), which applies ecological systems theory to explore the interactions of students within the
various systems. For example, questions are situated within a systems framework by asking
subjects to express the level of impact played by an individual or organization in their
trajectories as minimal, moderate, or significant. Furthermore, rather than asking subjects to
address individuals such as faculty, peers, or staff in isolation, the subjects were asked to
describe how the various individuals interacted to produce specific outcomes. Among the
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interactions addressed on the form were experiences as a research assistant, pursuing funding,
attending academic conferences, publishing their research, and mentorship.
Interview Protocol
I structured my interview protocol into six sections: background, expectations,
knowledge, community, experiences and interactions, and relationships (see Appendix F). My
research questions focused broadly on the experiences of students and their relationships with
other stakeholders in their program, including the home department, their dissertation advisor,
other faculty, peers, and other scholars affiliated with other units within or beyond their
university. As with the screening form, the interview was informed by the qualitative interview
protocol based on ecological systems theory (Kitchen et al., 2022), allowing me to explore the
participants’ perceptions of the impact of various individuals or units on their development as
researchers. The questions were also constructed so that participants could share how various
agents in their diverse settings served to support or not support their development as researchers.
As per the goal of qualitative research questions, they should seek to reveal the intentions and
perspectives of individuals involved in various interactions (Agee, 2009). Among my
considerations for choosing the types of questions, I drew from Patton’s (2015) six types of
questions, including experience and behavior, opinion and values, feelings, knowledge, sensory,
and background/demographic questions. I wanted to explore the possibility that those who
pursued fewer resources might have faced knowledge gaps or feelings of marginalization. Thus,
an exploration of various knowledge areas (the advisor relationship, writing workshops,
conferences) yielded specific testimony on a variety of gaps that could be attributed to possible
causes. Relationships with peers, faculty, and staff provided further details that allowed me to
assess their experiences.
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In addition to connecting the questions of the interview protocol to this study’s two
research questions, I also sought to align them with components of a successful research
community, including support such as funding, research assistantships, workshops, collaboration,
and mentorship (Posselt, 2018). Thus I sought to explore how socialization benefits from the
complexity of a student’s scholarly community, including relationships with faculty, dissertation
advisors, peers, and staff (Devos et al., 2017).
Data Collection Procedures
The purpose of qualitative interviewing, according to Patton (2014), “is to capture how
those being interviewed view their world, to learn their terminology and judgments, and to
capture the complexities of their individual perceptions and experiences” (p. 346). I conducted
the interviews over Zoom, in part due to lingering concerns over COVID-19 but also due to the
geographic distribution of the participants. Even for those participants who were local, I adhered
to the virtual format to preserve consistency. Each interview lasted approximately 60 minutes.
As per the standardized open-ended format, I presented my questions according to the script
(Johnson and Christensen, 2019) and asked follow-up questions as needed. I recorded the
interviews on video and audio but also used a field journal to note the emotions and body
language of my subjects to remain attuned to topics that made them nervous or yielded
vulnerable reactions. I sought to balance the contrast between rapport and neutrality in which the
interviewer strives for rapport with their subject but seeks neutrality vis-à-vis the content of the
interview. In the process, the interview can achieve empathy without judgment (Patton, 2014).
Data Analysis
While there is generally a clear progression in data analysis from interview to transcript
to coding, I rotated back and forth in my tasks, consistent with an approach advocated by Gibbs
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(2018): “Not only is concurrent analysis and data collection possible, but it can actually be good
practice too” (p. 4). This openness is echoed by Saldaña (2013), who emphasized the importance
of checking interpretations even while collecting the data in the field, coding data during the
transcription phase, and taking notes through journals and analytical memos. While I outline
these steps sequentially below, I acknowledge the synergy of my approach. If done effectively,
“qualitative analysis usually seeks to enhance the data, to increase its bulk, density, and
complexity” (Gibbs, 2018, p. 5). While I started out only with the interviews in the form of
recordings, I soon yielded transcripts as well as additional texts in the form of my research
journal, field notes, and memos.
I used the recording feature within Zoom for generating transcripts. Following careful
review and clean-up of each transcript in Microsoft Word as well as on paper, I imported each
interview transcript into Dedoose, a web-based computer-assisted qualitative data analysis
software (CAQDAS). The process of analyzing data involves far more than simply coding,
analyzing, and generating memos—it is about both data handling and interpretation (Gibbs,
2018). For example, after completing the transcription of my first two interviews, I was also
cleaning up the third while starting to code on the first.
Transcription is not simply the process of putting words to paper or screen but rather
requires the researcher to listen to the audio and watch the video repeatedly in checking for
accuracy. Therefore, transcription—both the review of the automated stage and the tedious
process of quality control—are extensions of the ethics of qualitative research. Even at this
mechanical stage, the act is an interpretive process (Gibbs, 2018). As I reviewed the manuscript,
I also flagged portions of text for anonymization prior to my importation into Dedoose (Gibbs,
2018). Also, in listening to the recording slowly—and not long after the actual interviews had
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taken place—I was able to add notes and reflections to my research diary and fields notes.
Pauses and uncomfortable laughter gave me further content for reflection; without careful
recordkeeping at this stage, these nuances could be lost later if I only noted the words without the
added context (Lochmiller & Lester, 2017). This attunement to voice and emotion also served
me well as I went back and forth between interviews, even in the early transcription phase,
establishing a pattern that would carry into coding, as per advice from Saldaña (2013): “The
second data set will influence and affect your recoding of the first participant’s data, and the
consequent coding of the remaining participants’ data” (p. 18).
Among the simultaneous activities taking place even in the early stages of transcription
and first-round coding is the writing, albeit in fragmented and preliminary form. As the
transcripts took shape one at a time, I maintained a supplemental library of field notes for each
interview and a research diary for the entire project. I would soon be adding analytical memos
within the Dedoose platform during coding. As Gibbs suggests, “start writing as early as you can
… writing is thinking” (2018, p. 38). Saldaña calls these “preliminary jottings” and suggests that
coding forms part of the practice early on, in addition to the logs and diaries (Saldaña, 2013).
The research diary and field journal were similar but had slightly different purposes in
my practice. The field notes were specific to each interview, including entries during interviews,
shortly after, and during transcript cleanup. The research diary contained broader reflections,
random thoughts, ideas, strategies, and to-do lists. For example, I might remind myself to go
back to another interview after making a new connection with a current transcript (Gibbs, 2018).
While these fragments start small, “they accumulate into a corpus, a collection of writing, that
will form the basis for your qualitative analysis and provide examples for your reports” (Gibbs,
2018, p. 41). Among these notes were not just my observations of the emotions of my subjects
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but also how I was feeling, what I thought of a participant’s use of metaphor or apparent
avoidance of a topic. As Denzin points out, “What is given in the text, what is written, is made
up and fashioned out of memory and field notes” (Denzin, 2004, p. 454).
Following this formative period of initial engagement with the text of the interview is the
transition to the robust software program. After importing the text, I acquainted myself with the
tools and features through how-to videos provided by Dedoose. While the CAQDAS program is
robust, it is important for all researchers to bear in mind the limitations of any tool: “Keep in
mind that CAQDAS itself does not actually code the data for you; that task is still the
responsibility of the researcher” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 22). To begin, coding “involves identifying
and recording one or more passages of text … that, in some sense, exemplify the same
theoretical or descriptive idea” (Gibbs, 2018, p. 54). According to Saldaña (2013), in qualitative
studies, a code is a word or phrase that “symbolically assigns a summative, salient, essence-
capturing, and/or evocative attribute for a portion of language-based or visual data” (p. 22). Like
transcription, coding is an interpretive act (Saldaña, 2013).
Dedoose allowed me to either create a short list of codes in advance of my review of the
first transcript while also adding new codes as I went. I also acquainted myself with the
analytical memos feature, which allowed me not only to connect a memo to a particular coded
passage, but also to cross-reference to other passages and label the memos with a different
categorization system than my codes. Like the research diary and field notes, the memos are far
more than simple throwaway notes but are the makings of the analysis. “Memos are seen as a
way of theorizing and commenting as you go about thematic coding of ideas and about the
general development of the analytical framework” (Gibbs, 2018, p. 44). A memo is a “written
reflection of your data”; that is, a “conversation with ourselves about our data” (Clarke, 2005, p.
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202). Richardson suggested organizing notes into four broad categories, including observation
notes, methodological notes, theoretical notes, and personal notes (Richardson, 2004, p. 489).
The range of my memos built on the types of reflections covered in my field notes, but the
Dedoose tool allowed me to make connections among coded excerpts. For example, I started to
make connections with interviews I hadn’t coded yet or even among the ones I was still cleaning
up in transcript form; I gathered thoughts on possible added codes prior to expanding my code
list; or I drafted early thoughts on how the passage related to my conceptual framework.
Coding consists of first-round and second-round coding. First-round coding began with
just the first two interviews. I had made a short list of basic codes that were based on a few
subcategories—such as student activities, types of interactions, and emotional reactions (feeling
on own, frustrated, confused, and so on). I let this process carry me forward, reacting to the
specific experiences from the first two participants’ interviews. After going through both
transcripts, I had then arrived at a basic set of codes, which I compiled into Dedoose. As I
reviewed the first two transcripts several times, going back and forth between the two rather than
moving on to the third interview, I added and refined codes before organizing into a hierarchy of
parent and child relationships among my codes (Gibbs, 2018). This process continued as I moved
to the third and fourth interviews several times each before once again going back to my first two
interviews. This allowed me to deepen the codes and hierarchy and stay immersed in a
manageable amount of material rather than trying to take on all eight interviews at once.
Embedded in this first round of my coding was an informal process of listing my codes,
categorization, identifying my hierarchy, and exploring related phenomena among my codes.
Retrieval aided me in further refining my codes, as did memos (Gibbs, 2018). Scanning the list
of codes helped me make changes to my hierarchy while also generating new analytical
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questions. Categorizing is part of this immersion process, which should be “deliberate and
thoughtful,” according to Gibbs (2018, p. 55). I used several codes repeatedly and didn’t use
others that I had devised, so one of the additional exercises was “to find these repetitive patterns
of action and consistencies in human affairs as documented in the data” (Saldaña, 2013, p. 5).
The more immersed I was in the data, the more I was making new connections.
While in first-round coding, I didn’t adhere to any consistent pattern, with some codes of
only one word and others of a full paragraph, by the second-round coding, I was more precise
while also altering codes and reorganizing parent-child relationships (Gibbs, 2018; Saldaña,
2013). In my abundant list of codes, I was clearly a splitter rather than a lumper in the words of
Saldaña (2013). By that, rather than using one code for a whole paragraph, I would use multiple
codes within a paragraph and often multiple codes for any one phrase. “Lumping gets to the
essence of categorizing a phenomenon while splitting encourages careful scrutiny of social
action represented in the data,” noted Saldaña (2013, p. 19). Both approaches have their risks,
with lumping possibly leading to superficial analysis while splitting can bury the researcher in
too much detail. I sought a balance between the two in my streamlining.
In moving into second-round coding, I was also moving well beyond description as I
more fully applied my analytical and theoretical lenses (Corbin & Strauss, 2015). This is where
memos start to form the foundation of early writing and the emergence of the themes and
findings of my study. With each successive round of retrieval, my memos, and the labeling
system I used for the memos, led to clear patterns. The themes were taking shape. My 18
findings within six themes did not emerge from distinct codes but rather in the questions and
patterns arising from my memos. This process was aided by heightened sensitivity to the
biographical detail from the participants, as I became more attuned to how they told stories, with
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some variations in what was detailed, adherence to chronology for some, while others had more
pronounced emotional arcs. In a few instances, a story pivoted on what Denzin called an
epiphany, or rather, how one event served as a turning point in their trajectory (Denzin, 1989).
Their word choice and emotion signaled the epiphany, and I in turn made notes in my journal.
Among other biographical details that become more apparent as I moved from interview to
transcript and then to coding at each round were types of “life history themes,” as outlined by
Gibbs (2018), including stories about relationships; belonging and separateness; closeness,
remoteness, and experience of moving; and the idea of career outcome (p. 81).
So, while I resisted predetermining my findings and themes in my early codes, I used the
labeling system within both the codes and memos feature to explore ways to organize my
thoughts. This became the early foundation of what would become my findings and themes in
Chapter Four of this study.
Credibility and Trustworthiness
I relied on several methods for ensuring credibility and trustworthiness, including time in
the field; use of rich, thick description; member checking and respondent validation; and
reflexivity. The purpose of such strategies is not that they verify any conclusions, according to
Maxwell (2013) in describing his own validity checklist, but that they help ensure I address any
potential threats to my conclusions, thereby testing the validity of my study. Another helpful
guide in terms of how validity might apply to qualitative research is in how well the researcher’s
account aligns with the reality of the participant (Eisner & Peshkin, 2000). Trustworthiness can
be a clearer term, according to Lochmiller and Lester (2017), which is “the degree to which your
data collection, analysis, and presentation of findings are presented in a thorough and verifiable
manner” (p. 180).
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The first method of ensuring credibility and trustworthiness was time in the field, which
in the case of interviews conducted over Zoom, included time spent with the interview
respondents before the interview via email, on Zoom before the interview started, during the
interview itself, and the time spent afterward. This also extended to maintaining contact through
the transcription of the data, further assuring the participants of my commitment. This is what
Maxwell calls “intensive, long-term involvement” and what Small and Calarco call “exposure”
(Maxwell, 2013, p. 126; Small & Calarco, 2022, p. 20). The investment of time not only gives
the researcher an opportunity to collect more data, but also to “confirm … observations and
inferences” (Maxwell, 2013, p. 126). Exposure derives from the “number of hours spent talking
to respondents, and in-depth interviewers generally agree that more hours of interviewing lead to
better data” (Small & Calarco, 2022, p. 20).
I also adopted rich and thick description, which Maxwell called “rich data” (2013, p.
126). In his validity checklist, Maxwell cited Becker (1970): “Intensive interviews enable you to
collect ‘rich’ data, data that are detailed and varied enough that they provide a full and revealing
picture of what is going on” (Becker, 1970, pp. 51). One aspect of ensuring rich data and thick
description is to use verbatim manuscripts (Lochmiller & Lester, 2017), not only including word-
for-word transcription but also indications of what was going on beyond the spoken portions,
such as pauses, hesitations, repetitions, and body language.
The term “thick description” comes from Geertz (1973), who emphasized attentiveness
not only to the words of interview respondents but also to the meanings that people gave to their
experiences and circumstances (Small & Calarco, 2022). Thick descriptions, according to Denzin
(1989), “are deep, dense, detailed accounts … thin descriptions, by contrast, lack detail, and
simply report facts” (p. 83).
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Related to thickness is what Small and Calarco (2022) describe as “palpability” in
research (p. 80), which is when findings are presented concretely rather than abstractly. The
authors remind researchers that palpability should include quotations. While “the process of
using thick description is to provide as much detail as possible” (Creswell & Miller, 2000, p. 6),
mere details are not enough to ensure palpability, such as when a speaker might go on and on
with a generalization. Palpable evidence will not only ensure rich narratives and thick
descriptions but will also establish “the foundation of an empirically convincing text” (Small &
Calarco, 2022, p. 98).
Another strategy that I employed was respondent validation, also known as member
checking, which refers to the practice of both confirming data in the form of the accuracy of a
transcription as well as in the interpretation of a finding in the final report, in this case, the
drafting of Chapters Four and Five of this study (Creswell & Miller, 2000; Maxwell, 1973).
Member checks are “the most crucial technique for establishing credibility,” according to
Lincoln and Guba (1985, p. 314). A thorough commitment to this strategy also keeps the
researcher’s own biases in check (Gibbs, 2018). Outreach to interview respondents also provides
an opportunity for follow-up questions and clarifications (Small & Calarco, 2022).
Finally, I used reflexivity at every juncture of the research, from the interview process
through the writing. Gibbs emphasizes that the work of any researcher will ultimately reflect the
“background, milieu, and predilections” of the researcher, which has both practical and ethical
implications (Gibbs, 2018, p. 128). Denzin and Lincoln (1998) called this “validity as reflexive
accounting” (Denzin & Lincoln, 1998, p. 278). Mindful practice will ensure keeping
preconceptions in check while being aware of power dynamics between researcher and
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respondent. Part of this process comes in self-disclosing “assumptions, beliefs, and biases”
(Creswell & Miller, 2000, p. 127).
By spending a lot of time with my respondents, producing thick descriptions, verifying
my findings with my respondents, and reflecting on the process at every stage, I was not only
ensuring trustworthiness but also producing sound empirical research.
Ethics
I assured adherence to ethical standards for research by adopting several approaches at
various stages of the study, including participant consent, anonymity and confidentiality, and
proper data handling and storage. Ethics is not restricted to access and pre-interview strategies
but also includes how the questions are formulated, my research design, as well as how I wrote
this dissertation (Agee, 2009).
A researcher engages in ethical practice well before contacting the prospective respondent.
“Participants in research should know exactly what they are letting themselves in for,” according
to Gibbs (2018), “what will happen to them during the research and what will happen to the data
they provide after the research is completed” (p. 13). Before soliciting informed consent, I
carefully considered the nature of my study, my focus, and my questions. As Lochmiller and
Lester (2017) explain, “At the most basic level, ethics in educational research involves inviting
the consent of participants, ensuring no harm is done, and protecting the identity of participants”
(p. 71). This process includes proving a clear outline of the goals and purpose of the study, an
assessment of any possible risks, and a clear indication to the respondents that they can withdraw
at any time (p. 71).
A second method for ensuring ethical practice is to maintain a commitment to protecting the
anonymity and confidentiality of the respondents, including a clear explanation to my
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respondents to let them know how I will be using the data (Gibbs, 2018, p. 14). Embedded in
these practices is the commitment to the respondents that unauthorized people will not gain
access to the unanonymized data. Thus, consideration of preservation and long-term disposal of
my material was also among my priorities, and I followed the proper protocols in using the
various software and applications used throughout my study (Gibbs, 2018).

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Chapter Four: Findings
The purpose of this study was to understand the factors that support and hinder the
socialization of first-generation PhD students as it relates to their access to essential resources
supporting their development as researchers, including membership in a formal or informal
research community.
Two research questions guided the study:
1. What are the experiences of first-generation PhD students seeking research support in
social science fields at Golden State University?
2. How do first-generation PhD students’ relationships with faculty, peers, and
university staff affect their experiences identifying, accessing, and obtaining
resources supporting their research?
Participants
I interviewed eight participants who completed a PhD in a social science field at Golden
State University (see Table 1). To preserve the anonymity of the participants, certain identifiable
characteristics and experiences are generalized. For the purposes of providing a composite
profile of the eight students, it can be noted that these former students completed their PhD
degrees between 2018 and 2023. Five are women and three are men. Six out of eight received
master’s degrees from other institutions prior to attending their PhD programs. While all students
felt an expectation from their degree-granting program to use the PhD to obtain a tenure-track
faculty position at a major research university, three subjects chose to follow careers outside the
academy, based in part on challenging experiences during their programs. Among the subjects
who finished in spring 2023, one already has an offer to teach at a university and another to work
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outside the academy. The third member of the class of 2023 is seeking to become a faculty
member.
As this chapter will indicate, the international status of three of the participants played a
significant factor in their experiences as PhD students. Of the remaining five participants, four
were American citizens who were children of immigrant families and said they felt strongly that
their identities of race, ethnicity, and national origin impacted their approach to their studies and
how they perceived themselves in various settings.

Table 1
Study Participants

Pseudonym Pronouns Identity National
origin
Career Path PhD
year
Master’s?
Carrie She/hers Asian U.S. citizen Non-academic 2019 No
Daniel He/his White U.S. citizen Tenure track 2019 No
Elena She/hers Hispanic U.S. citizen Non-academic 2019 Yes
Elizabeth She/hers Asian International Postdoc 2021 Yes
Genevieve She/hers European International Non-academic 2023 Yes
Jorge He/him Latinx U.S. citizen On job market 2023 Yes
Richard He/him Other U.S. citizen Tenure track 2019 Yes
Sonya She/hers Asian International Tenure track 2023 Yes

Findings
The data from eight semi-structured interviews yielded 18 findings distributed across six
broad themes (See Table 2). The first two themes relate to the period prior to graduate school up
to the transition into the PhD program. The first theme, pathways into graduate school, includes
three findings: the nonlinearity of pathways into PhD programs; mentorship and support
programs prior to the PhD program; and student awareness of their own value based on their
unique world view. The second theme, navigating the start of the PhD program, includes
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perceptions of many of the informal experiences that take place outside of the classroom, such as
methods training, writing, and obtaining funding. This theme includes three findings: dramatic
drops in confidence in the first phase of graduate school; feeling unprepared to do research; and
the seemingly random nature of socialization.
The next three themes pertain to the informal aspects of graduate student socialization. The
third theme covers navigating mentorship, specifically the relationship with the dissertation
advisor. Three findings in this theme reveal the range of experiences that students face in
navigating this important relationship: positive and impactful relationships with the advisor;
passivity of the advisor; and support of peers as a supplement to inadequate faculty support. The
fourth theme addresses the various challenges of pursuing and obtaining funding, including three
findings: the sense that the funding was never enough; the flow of information about funding
opportunities; and the sense of being on one’s own to find funding. Publishing comprises the
fifth theme, including acclimation to a culture of pressure; a lack of guidance; and positive and
negative experiences with writing workshops.
Finally, the sixth theme captures the impressions of the subjects’ ideas of a research
community. It includes the conditions that lead to the transition of the participants from students
to scholars, including the constellation of knowledge and skills that ground the emerging scholar
as a professional. The findings within this theme include: the importance of a shared space for
students; finding community on their own terms; and moving from mentored to mentor.
Together, these six themes and 18 findings provide a framework for assessing components of
both the graduate student socialization framework and ecological systems model, which together
comprise a new, synthesized framework for understanding the experiences of first-generation
PhD students.
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Table 2
Themes and Findings
Theme/finding RQ 1 RQ 2
Pathways into graduate school
The pathways into a PhD program are nonlinear

X X
Mentorship and support programs are essential to the students’
progression as a researcher

X
Students are aware of their value and of their ability to make a
contribution based on what they see as a unique world perspective
X
Navigating the start of the PhD program
Dramatic drops in confidence in the first phase of graduate school X
Feeling unprepared to do research X
The seemingly random nature of socialization X
Navigating mentorship
Positive and impactful relationships with dissertation advisor X
Passivity of the advisor X
Support of peers as a supplement to inadequate faculty support X
Various challenges of pursuing and obtaining funding
“The funding is never enough” X
Uneven flow of information about funding opportunities X X
Being on their own to find funding X X
Publishing
Acclimation to a culture of pressure X X
Lack of guidance X X
Positive and negative experiences with writing workshops X X
Striving for research community
A shared space X
Finding community on their own terms X
From mentored to mentor X X

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Theme 1. “How To Do This Thing”: Pathways Into the PhD Program
The first theme pertains to first-generation students’ pathways into graduate school. Here,
the students’ backgrounds and their various types of preparation comprise the factors that lead to
their decisions to apply to a PhD program. Examples of background include race, ethnicity,
socioeconomic status as well as nationality and gender identity. Preparations can include the
types of academic training but also account for broader traits such as agency and aptitude. Each
of the eight pathways documented in this study are unique to the corresponding individual, and
yet together they reveal a pattern of characteristics that leads to three findings in this theme: the
pathways into a PhD program are nonlinear; mentorship and support programs are essential to
the students’ progression as a researcher; and the participants are aware of their value and of
their ability to make a contribution based on what they see as a unique world perspective.
The Pathways Into a PhD Program Are Nonlinear
The participants in this study did not have uniform answers to the question, “Why pursue
a PhD?” They were not directed so much by the surety of a goal to earn a PhD or become a
professor as much as by a common pursuit of growth and a desire to achieve something
meaningful, aspire to a higher status, or extend their education in the broad belief that hard work
would lead to greater opportunities. “The PhD was not something that I wanted initially,”
recalled Sonya, explaining how the degree carried social status back home but she had been
ambivalent about pursuing the higher degree until after she completed her master’s. As
undergrads, all eight participants overcame insecurities and doubt to recognize the potential of
their academic performance. They possessed a willingness to work hard and embrace struggle,
they were receptive to mentorship, and they learned to take advantage of structural support such
as programs or initiatives in their undergraduate settings. Each reacted differently to mentorship
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and encouragement, with some students choosing to pursue master’s degrees while others chose
to work before pursuing a higher degree. Only two students went straight into a PhD program
from their undergraduate program.
Several students explained that they were largely focused on the present during their
undergraduate studies with no clear goals for their academic or professional futures. Both Daniel
and Richard took typical paths of self-discovery as undergraduates, complete with the kinds of
fits and starts many college students experience: drastic changes in major, bouts of insecurity
interrupted by occasional bursts of confidence, and a view of the future that did not go much
further than the end of the semester or simply making it to graduation. Daniel started out as a
fine arts student at a design school, became disillusioned, and switched to a community college
before eventually finding his way to a small liberal arts college. He found his eventual passion as
a Peace Science major and took part in a summer project conducting interviews at a refugee
camp. “After I was done with it,” he recalled, “I sort of thought, like, ‘Well, how do I keep doing
this thing?’ And that’s when I started talking and asking, ‘What’s a research degree?’ From there
he applied and got accepted to a PhD program.
Jorge realized he might want to pursue a PhD, but he knew that he hadn’t developed
enough as a writer as an undergraduate, so he decided to pursue a master’s degree first before
attempting to apply to a PhD program. His plan was to then use writing samples from the
master’s program for his PhD program applications.
Genevieve, who moved from Europe to attend a small college in the northwest, also
possessed the confidence that she was a good student and was focused on doing well rather than
on meeting any specific career objective. And yet she described the kind of insecurity or doubt
that was also prevalent in some of the other subjects, including Carrie, Elena, and Richard. “I had
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really good grades and everything, and then I had teachers and professors who told me about
graduate school, and that I could potentially continue,” she said. “And I still wasn’t convinced.
So instead of doing a PhD right away, I did a master’s first.” Genevieve grappled with imposter
syndrome, doubting her potential despite the encouragement of her professors. “All my life, and
coming from the background that I came from, I thought I wasn’t set out, or, you know, smart
enough to do a PhD,” she said. She didn’t see the master’s as a steppingstone to a PhD as much
as it was a progression toward enhancing her career opportunities.
Other participants possessed similar attitudes about being very practical in their choices
while grappling with their self-confidence. Both Sonya and Richard made decisions on their
pathways based largely on financial reasons or scholarship opportunities. Although Sonya, from
Southeast Asia, knew she wanted to pursue a master’s degree, she had yet to see it as a step
toward a PhD. The availability of a scholarship to attend a U.S. school solidified her decision.
Sonya was grounded in making a practical decision that kept in mind her family’s limited
resources. Her decision to pursue a practical path had more in common with Jorge, who pursued
his education one step at a time. She later explained that to fulfil her obligation on the
scholarship, she would need to teach at the university that awarded the scholarship, a
commitment that she knew would one day require her to obtain a PhD degree, but she perceived
these choices one step at a time. Richard also took his education a step at a time based on
scholarship opportunities rather than on any clear goal that he would eventually pursue a PhD.
Such an outcome was not even imaginable at first.
Other participants enacted practical choices by working either after their undergraduate
degrees or after their master’s. Elena and Elizabeth combined any consideration of graduate
degrees with the desire to build work experience while also expressing a desire to “grow up” a
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bit since both obtained master’s degrees at relatively young ages. They then retreated to a
professional track rather than an academic trajectory and seemed happy with that decision for
several years before gradually coming around to the possibility of a PhD. For example, Elizabeth
was motivated to go straight into a master’s in Chinese studies but emphasized that she needed
some time before deciding for sure on a PhD. She worked for the U.S. Embassy back home for a
couple years before she switched to a research position with a corporation. A third job, at a
university, led her to pursue the goal of obtaining a PhD.
These kinds of experiences were not free from doubt and struggle. Elena’s path combined
several of the strands from her fellow PhD alumni in that she tells the story of a traumatic
master’s experience due in part, she says, from being too young, to her then rebuilding her
confidence working outside the academy after her master’s.
At first glance, there is nothing necessarily remarkable in these students’ nonlinear
pathways to the PhD degree that would set them apart from continuing-generation students: they
shared universal experiences of doubting their abilities but nonetheless striving in the face of
challenges. However, these are also young people struggling with their identity and their own
cultural capital while also grappling with idealized notions of higher learning. While each
mentioned their family as generally supportive, they relied on teachers and professors who took
an interest in them to make concrete steps forward. They also recognized the role of support in
their success.
Experiences With Mentorship and Support Programs Prior to the PhD
The second finding of the pathways theme consists of experiences vis-à-vis mentorship
and support programs, which helped students develop their own initiative to begin advocating for
themselves. These experiences with validation and encouragement from mentors continued into
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master’s programs or professional settings as well, providing momentum to the process of
pursuing a PhD. Elizabeth grew up in South America and at first hadn’t imagined going to
college in the United States, but a teacher encouraged her to explore her options. Sonya said she
felt she benefitted from working as a research assistant for a professor when she was an
undergraduate, crediting that relationship as one of the experiences that influenced her decision
to pursue a master’s. “So, being close with professors in my college actually kind of encouraged
me to pursue a PhD,” she said.
In recounting these experiences, four participants combined tales of pivotal moments
with the confession that they didn’t expect much for themselves. For example, as an undergrad,
Elena struggled to keep up in the honors track, feeling she was not as well prepared as her more
privileged classmates. “Like to be in these classes with these people who have gotten into
expensive private schools and to be a first-generation student, I was not very confident,” she
said. Nonetheless, one teacher noticed her writing abilities and invited her to come to her office
hours. “I want to hear more about you,” Elena recalled her saying. “And that interaction just like
changed the entire trajectory of my life.”
Richard also detailed the evolution of his own mentorship path and the effect it had on his
self-confidence and subsequently on the decisions he made. He recalled the slow build of
working with a mentor who believed in him. He explained how essential it was to have a
professor take interest in his potential as an undergrad, in his case, a pre-law instructor looking
for a research assistant. Similarly, Genevieve made her decision to move to a higher level based
on the encouragement of her professors even when she herself admitted she didn’t believe she
was good enough. But it was more than a mentor; it was a strong system—a good program with
a lot of funding—that made a difference. She acknowledged that her success came not simply
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from one special mentor but from a system that provided a level of support for her in her
master’s program: “I had a lot of support from faculty. It was a small program. We got a lot of
funding. We got a lot of things that set us up on the right track,” she recalled. Interactions with
professors and other agents of support—from one-on-one support from caring instructors to the
facilitation by administrators of funding and other resources—were helping the participants
crystalize their goals.
Beyond stories of influential mentors, two other participants benefited from systems and
structures that were designed specifically to support first-generation students. For example,
Elena was encouraged by a supportive professor to apply to an undergraduate fellowship
program that identifies students from diverse backgrounds who show potential as prospective
PhD students and future faculty members. And Elizabeth selected her college based partly on the
appeal of a living-learning community that provided added academic support, including faculty
mentors. Whereas Elizabeth leveraged the support in her first year, Elena learned about the
fellowship program in her second year, thanks to the support of the mentor who had told her to
come to office hours after class. “That program gave me the opportunities to do research,’ she
recalled, “and I applied to PhD programs then because of that.” In a sense, Elizabeth had
benefitted from the kind of program that Jorge had lacked. Earlier, Jorge had explained how he
decided to pursue a master’s first to improve his writing, whereas Elena was able to receive that
kind of writing support from her participation in a program designed to smooth the paths to
graduate school for underserved students. All eight participants were learning that support was
helping them develop confidence in themselves.

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Value in Seeing Their Own Place in the World
Characteristic of this early period of growing self-assurance is the awareness from the
students that they have something to contribute to classmates, to teachers, to their communities.
Their growing confidence in the classroom was well earned. Elizabeth, for example, continued to
build on her personal experiences from home to deepen her interest while developing practical
work experience and skills. Her identity was becoming inextricably linked with her professional
and academic interests. She took her knowledge from both her undergraduate and master’s
programs and went back home and saw its place in the world in a new light. “I started seeing the
influence and the impact of this emerging country,” she said, “and I decided that I wanted to
continue to do it in a PhD program.”
Richard, too, discussed developing his sense of a world perspective. After earning his
master’s and eventually marrying, he took a “corporate job” in the country where his family was
from, and where world events led him to rethink the path he was on. His time there coincided
with political tensions and protests, and he said he felt motivated to make sense of his place in
the world. In recalling those moments, Richard makes the connection between the life he was
living and the value that experience could have on his career. “Having kind of lived through that
moment,” he said, “I felt like I had a more discerning eye than other students that were interested
in studying the region at that time, and so I thought initially of kind of leveraging that.”
Sonya and Genevieve felt something similar, although on a more personal scale. They
both stated that they brought with them unique perspectives from their parts of the world. They
both felt they could bring diverse perspectives to the classroom, boosting their confidence as
they prepared to start their programs. Similarly, Carrie came from an immigrant family from
Vietnam and quickly realized she was the only Vietnamese student in the program, something
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she thought she could use to her advantage. Work also gave the students a sense of their value
and potential contributions as PhD students and future faculty. Work was a component of
Elizabeth’s sense of self-worth and value, but it also contained hints of potential vulnerability in
a new setting. She had held a fairly high position in her profession, but worried about how she
would need to change her mindset by becoming a student again. Elena admitted feeling young
and somewhat shaken by her experiences during her master’s program, but found renewed
strength in a full-time job outside of academia. Her hope was that she could find a way to sustain
that level of self-esteem when she once again returned to academia for her PhD. As she was
about to begin the new phase in her life, she would soon see the convergence of how well her
cultural capital would match up with the social capital she would foster as a PhD student. The
coming transition for all eight participants would bring on unexpected challenges.
Theme 2. “A Shock to the System”: Navigating the Start of the PhD Program
The second theme pertains to the process of adjusting to the initial socialization to
informal components of a PhD program, including methods training, writing, publishing,
obtaining funding, or participating in programming outside the classroom, such as
professionalization workshops. This theme is noted by three findings: dramatic drops in
confidence during the first one to two years of graduate school; confusion around what research
entails; and the seemingly random and uneven nature of socialization. Four of the participants
described a period in which they went from the initial excitement of entering a PhD program and
a sense of accomplishment from prior experiences to a rapid onset of imposter syndrome. What
little exposure Carrie had to research prior to the PhD program seemed hopelessly inadequate. “I
wonder if I would have done a PhD if I knew more about what researching entailed, and what a
PhD entailed,” she said when looking back on those first few years of the program. Much of the
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socialization that takes place outside the classroom—including managing the advisor
relationship, pursuing funding, and publishing—seemed random and without clear purpose or
direction to Genevieve:
I think it’s hard for first-year PhD students. It’s hard to have a balance of trying to
navigate—like a really new shock to the system—where you’re trying to be a good
student and figuring out how you’re going to manage your workload, but also to socialize
and to do all of these things.
The building confidence from high school, college, and master’s programs or work experience
was eroding quickly for each of the new PhD students.
A Loss of Confidence
As noted in the prior theme of pathways, all eight participants arrived at graduate school
with diverse backgrounds, strengths, and enthusiasm. In the interviews it was clear that what
they may have been lacking in exposure to academic training, they felt they were more than
making up for in the unique life experiences that had shaped their world views. When Sonya
started the PhD program, she felt confident. She was ready. If anything, she was a little burned
out from working after her master’s degree, but the transition to the PhD program gave her a
boost of energy. “I was hungry for more knowledge,” she recalled. “So, I was like super
enthusiastic when I started. I don’t remember having any concern at the beginning. I think my
concerns started to accumulate.” Elena shared a similar optimism at the outset of the program in
recalling one of the early mixer events, where she met other students and faculty. After the
disappointment of her master’s program—where she had felt too young and got lost in the
politics of the department—she felt she had finally found her place. She assumed that faculty
were going to treat her like an adult, like a colleague. “So, at that beginning, I didn’t feel like a
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student; I felt like a PhD-like colleague,” she said. “I felt like I got to be in a new space, like I
had made it, you know. And that was nice.”
Unlike Elena, Carrie stated she found herself on the outside looking in at students who
seemed far more adept occupying the same space as professors. She envied how some students
could treat faculty like peers, go out for drinks, or house-sit for them. They then somehow
transferred that rapport to collaboration or co-authorship projects. “I never felt that way,” she
said, “and I think a part of it is from my heritage, where we feel hierarchy is very important, and
professors are up here, and as a grad student I’m down here.” Sonya, who, like Carrie, is Asian,
also reverted to cultural expectations around the student-faculty relationship and did not feel as
comfortable engaging faculty informally in the way some of her continuing-generation peers
were able to. “I think it was like a sense of hierarchy back in Asia,” she echoed. “I think that
kind of filters through it like a fatherly or motherly figure that we can, you know, be safe around,
and can ask for help and ask for guidance.” While she seemed pleased to see faculty as
benefactors of advice and wisdom, she discussed having a hard time seeing herself as a potential
peer.
At first, the signs of anxiety didn’t seem any different from those of continuing-
generation students. For example, Richard admitted he was nervous about moving to a new city
where he didn’t know anyone, an almost universal concern. “It was both exciting and scary at the
same time,” he recalled. But for others, such as Elizabeth, the confidence she had felt in her
career quickly gave way to insecurity due to the number of years that had passed since she had
last been in a classroom. She was struck by the gnawing suspicion that her work experience
would have less cachet in graduate school. It was challenging getting back to taking classes,” she
said. “I mean I hadn’t taken classes in four or five years.” And to get back into the routine of
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being a student was difficult.” That awareness crystalized in the form of imposter syndrome for
Elizabeth, who said she asked herself, “Am I good enough?”
Unlike Elizabeth, Carrie was not far removed from the classroom. While six out of eight
subjects had spent their intervening years between their undergraduate studies and PhD programs
pursuing master’s degrees or working, Carrie and Daniel jumped straight into the PhD program
in their early twenties. Ironically, Carrie only later realized that resuming coursework in a
classroom soon after earning her bachelor’s degree left her at a surprising disadvantage from her
peers. “I thought it was just a continuation of undergrad, where your grades were the most
important thing,” she recalled, still shaking her head in embarrassment for not knowing any
better. She said it wasn’t clear to her that the goal of graduate school was not necessarily to
perform well in class or to maintain a high grade-point average but instead to dive fully into an
original research project. She didn’t understand that PhD students weren’t necessarily expected
to read everything word for word but rather to approach literature reviews more strategically.
Elena had a similar experience even after earning a master’s degree somewhere else. She
was determined to “work extra hard” in her classes. “That work ethic certainly comes from my
background,” she said, “like when you don’t have a network you just work really hard.” She’s
glad she ended up with strong grades but regretted the price she paid to her mental health. “I felt
like I had to prove myself and I felt like I had to work harder,” she said. “And I did! And that of
course had like effects, you know, in other parts of my life.” In their interviews, the participants
used terms such as “imposter syndrome” and “hidden curriculum” to describe their sense of self
early in the program. Daniel said at first he worried about how he was going to hide the fact that
he felt everyone else was smarter than him. “I definitely had imposter syndrome and was just
like, ‘Come on! This doesn’t make any sense. Like I was born in a trailer park!’” He said it has
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only been recently, as a professor, that he has stopped having those kinds of intrusive thoughts.
“I was definitely worried about being dumber than everyone,” he recalled of his early time in the
PhD program.
Jorge, who had expressed an awareness that he needed to pursue a master’s first to
improve his writing, admitted that he still felt behind as he started the PhD program. “For me the
greatest concern was the hidden curriculum,” he said. Jorge was more reflective of that early
period now that he could look back on it. He felt that as a first-generation student, he had to play
catch up and learn things on the go. “To a certain extent, I still feel a bit of an outsider,” he said.
“So, in a way I’m half into academia, but I also feel like I’m not fully accepted in it.” As the
cracks started to show in their confidence, Jorge, Daniel, Elena, and Carrie also began realizing
how much they had to catch up in terms of their prior exposure to research as undergraduates.
Feeling Unprepared To Do Research
The second finding is the feeling by first-generation PhD students that they were
unprepared for what was expected of them in terms of conducting research. The participants
tended to feel that rather than being a period for growth, the first two years of the PhD program
felt more like a trial by fire in which faculty were separating students “in the know” from those
who “were hopelessly behind.” Carrie reported feeling that her exposure to research prior to the
PhD program was inadequate. For example, she said she wished someone had pulled her aside to
explain the nuts and bolts of research at the outset, something as simple as a tutorial on the
scientific method broken down to the fundamentals of question, hypothesis, method, result, and
conclusion. She said it wasn’t until she finished her dissertation that she realized that the goal of
conducting research could have been made much more concrete to her but instead she struggled
without clear guidance.
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Prior to arriving in their PhD programs, Sonya, Genevieve, Richard, and Jorge had
somewhat simplistic and naïve notions of what graduate work would entail. Genevieve explained
how simplistic her impressions of research were prior to entering the PhD program. As an
undergraduate, she wrote essays and, she said, “it wasn’t really stressed for me how original it
had to be.” She used a lot of secondary sources rather than the primary sources and original data
analysis that made up research projects in the PhD program. Looking back, she felt she had a
good background in qualitative methods training and she excelled in classes. “I was really good
at theory, abstract thinking, critical thinking, and stuff like that,” she said. Richard also saw the
limitations of his training as an undergraduate and master’s student, saying that “the methods
training was very circumscribed.” He recalls the moment he realized that even his general
approach to writing seemed subpar, a blend of journalistic and academic writing. “So, I almost
had to kind of relearn this thing, this craft of research anew, when I got into the PhD program,”
he said.
Sonya had a feeling early on that the training from her undergraduate and master’s
programs might not be as rigorous as what she would encounter in her PhD program. She had the
opportunity to work as a research assistant prior to the PhD program, but most of the work had
involved a lot of reading and drafting notes, but nothing related to methods training. “So, my
understanding of research was that you try to accumulate knowledge by going through a lot of
secondary sources and sort of explain or analyze what you find through your own lens,” she said.
Sonya recalled working as a college instructor after receiving her master’s and having to teach
her students about methods when she herself hadn’t been exposed to rigorous training. “So, I had
to go through all the textbooks and try to make sense of what research designs might be,” she
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recalled, “and I kind of knew that that was something that I would have to face when I started a
PhD.”
Beyond gaps in training and experience, the students came to feel that quantitative
methods were favored over qualitative. Although Genevieve came in very confident in her
abilities as a student, she felt discouraged by the preference for quantitative expertise. “I was a
purely qualitative scholar, and I was shocked to see, you know, how much emphasis there was
on statistics, regressions, and stuff like that,” she said. Jorge also entered the program assured of
his strengths in qualitative methods but was determined to make up for his gaps in training. He
knew he also had strengths in analytical skills and enjoyed theoretical work as well. He made a
concerted effort to embrace quantitative methods. “So, I came into the program with a specific
type of strength, and I came out of it with an additional strength,” he said. Genevieve had a
harder time balancing her self-perception of her skills in context to what was valued in the
department. While she felt she had a strong foundation in theory, she also sensed theory wasn’t
as valued as quantitative methods. She felt she had other strengths, but the methods issue quickly
overpowered everything else and left her at a disadvantage that she never quite overcame. “I kind
of completely disregarded all my qualitative skills and just focused on the quantitative skills.
Then going forward—so it was a very steep learning curve,” she said. Her disillusionment over
her experience with methods training led her to question her other goals. “At some point,
especially when I decided to focus more on quantitative methods, I realized that maybe a non-
academic track would be better,” she said. Unclear socialization in other areas of graduate study
would only exacerbate these growing feelings of inadequacy when it came to research training.
Socialization Was Unclear
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Beyond the vulnerability of feeling behind in research skills and training is the finding
that socialization seemed random when it came to other essential aspects of the program. Notable
during the first and second years in the program was the challenge to absorb basic processes and
procedures of what it means to be a research scholar: Did grades matter? How do I keep up with
all the readings? What are the appropriate academic journals to be reading? Should I be going to
conferences and how can I afford to travel? The participants described their perceptions of the
lack of clear guidelines, unclear information on resources, a feeling of being left on their own,
and that socialization was random and not intentional. “So, the norms of graduate school,” said
Richard, “I think we got them kind of piecemeal as we went along, almost accidentally.” He
described how sometimes faculty might “talk a bit more off the cuff” about tips and advice,
almost as a digression or afterthought during class. Sonya recalled a similar spontaneity,
depending on the professor: “Some professors have a style of, you know, preaching to us before
going into the lesson.” This is when she would learn about professionalization workshops or
other support programs. “Like these things are repetitive, right? So, after a few times,” she
continued, “I kind of knew that these are the norms. And, you know, I heard professors talking
about this a lot, colleagues talking about this a lot.” Daniel recalled making good use of some of
the professionalization programs of a research center affiliated with his department, which
covered topics like how to speak at a conference, how to network, and how to progress with your
career goals.
Jorge, who struggled to overcome the hidden curriculum, learned to take advantage of the
kinds of informal moments that Richard and Sonya described. He paid close attention to some of
the information that came informally in the classroom, such as advice on where to publish. He
realized that he had to glean what he could here and there to overcome the hidden curriculum. He
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recalled vividly how his quantitative methods instructor took a moment to list the important
academic journals in the field. It was a clear signal to Jorge that these are the ones he should be
targeting for his own writing. “So that’s part of the hidden curriculum,” he said. “We are not
going to learn this in a regular textbook. That’s something you get from people who are already
in the field.”
Another area lacking clarity for Genevieve and Sonya related to academic conferences.
Genevieve recalled being confused by the ambivalence among faculty when it came to students
attending or presenting at conferences. “It baffled me that, for example, there was the norm
around first- and second-year students not going to conferences,” she said. Students were warned
about presenting prematurely, which faculty felt would only set them up for harsh criticism. But
this advice contradicted what she had heard in her master’s program, where students were told to
get out there and expose their ideas to other scholars. “So, that was kind of weird and scary to
just kind of like sit tight the first one or two years while you find your researcher identity,” she
said.
This gatekeeping from faculty extended to students who were further along in the
program, compounding confusion on when exactly they were supposed to be ready to present
their research. When Sonya was in her 3rd or 4th year, she felt she had matured as a scholar and
would be ready to take advantage of the benefits of engaging in national associations in her
discipline. But still she was not getting concrete guidance or direction from faculty: “I was like
not really aware of conferences, like where to present my paper, where to go and listen to
conferences and stuff like that.”
Part of the process of socialization is learning where and from whom to get the right kind
of information. For example, Sonya’s awareness of conferences and other resources accelerated
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after she became affiliated with a research center as a predoctoral fellow, an increasingly
common opportunity for students in the ABD stage prior to final defense of their dissertations.
Her daily interaction with peers exposed her to concrete information about conferences as well as
fellowships. The other students reported different experiences gleaning information from senior
faculty, junior faculty, and staff in their department or from adjoining units or university centers
and support programs. Richard came to rely on and appreciate the staff from his own academic
department, who he found to be reliable sending out emails on various opportunities, including
information about conferences. “I kind of shout them out in my dissertation,” he said of the staff,
“because no way I would have gone through it without them.” Elizabeth had a different
experience, however, feeling that the staff in her department weren’t helpful. “The department
did not do much, if at all! I did not even know that it was there,” she said. Elizabeth clarified that
she felt appreciative of the staff but saw them to be overworked and unable to dedicate
themselves to providing the kind of help students needed. She got better seeking out information
herself from a department staff member who she liked: “I was like, ‘What’s going on, what’s up
there, like what else is there?’” Jorge represented a middle ground of these two types of PhD
students—those who seek help and those who sit back and wait for information. He was always
looking out for lessons, such as when job candidates gave talks during their interview process
and he would notice how long they spoke, how they handled questions, how they prepared their
slides. This kind of uncertainty and tentativeness around various aspects of socialization would
impact the development of the most important relationship in the PhD program—mentorship
from the dissertation advisor.

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Theme 3. “Trauma and Joy”: Navigating Mentorship
The next three themes pertain to the primary socialization activities of a PhD program
that occur outside the classroom: the advisor relationship; seeking funding resources; and
navigating the publishing process. The third theme covers navigating the advisor relationship.
Two of the eight participants reported nightmare scenarios in which an advisor dropped them—
one in the second year, the other the night before her final dissertation defense. In the
experiences of three other participants—Richard, Sonya, Genevieve—advisors were generally
supportive but too passive and remote in retrospect. These students learned to turn to other
faculty for guidance while leaning hard on their peers for emotional support and reassurance.
This theme consists of three findings: the importance of positive and impactful relationships; the
prevalence of passivity among advisors; and the critical role of peers in offering support to
counterbalance stressful experiences with advisors.
Positive and Impactful Relationships With the Dissertation Advisor
Jorge, Carrie, and Elizabeth spoke of positive and impactful relationships with their
advisors, often dating back to the initial contact between mentor and mentee at the beginning of
their first semester in the program. Jorge said his advisor sought him out in his first semester.
While some programs establish advisor-advisee matches as part of the recruitment and
admissions process, in programs like Jorge’s that process occurred organically. Jorge eventually
worked for his advisor as a research assistant, which solidified their working relationship. Elena
had a similar experience. One of the faculty members reached out to her almost immediately
based on the student biographies that had been circulated after her new cohort began. The faculty
member had noticed their common interests and told her he could help her co-author an article
and invited her to his office hours. Elizabeth says she chose her PhD program mostly to work
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with a certain faculty member as her advisor, who she matched with immediately at the start of
the program and continued until the end.
While Elena later had a falling out with her advisor, Jorge and Elizabeth went on to
describe fruitful relationships with advisors who pointed them to funding sources, facilitated
publishing opportunities, and guided them to the successful defense of their dissertations. In this
sense, these advisors lived up to the image students had of them as guides to all things informal,
including networking, fellowships, and navigating the job market. Jorge spoke appreciatively of
his advisor: “He would let me know about opportunities that existed. So, he told me, I think you
should apply to this, or check this out and he would help me apply to these places.”
In other instances, students had co-advisors, which could distribute the burden if the
student needed to balance, say, the strengths of one faculty member’s methodology support with
another’s thematic expertise. This formula worked well for Carrie, who said one of her advisors
encouraged her to apply for a Fulbright award and then helped her make connections at her
fieldwork site. The other advisor provided key theoretical support and guided her to authors and
sources and also helped her network at conferences. “I felt really lucky because I felt like they
were my cheerleaders,” she said. They would be supportive when needed but also pulled her
back when she went in the wrong direction. She valued the combination of encouragement and
guidance. While Carrie’s advisor dropped her during her 2nd year, she felt by the end that she
had lucked out with the balance of these two new co-advisors.
Passivity of the Advisor
But beneath the surface, four participants expressed regret on what the advisor
relationship lacked in terms of firmer guidance. Richard, Daniel, Sonya, and Genevieve
described their advisors as somewhat passive and remote and said the relationship could have
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been much more. An indifferent and passive advisor could perpetuate a climate of pressure
simply by not intervening to close various knowledge gaps. Like Carrie, Richard adopted the co-
advisor model but expressed regrets in the lack of structure provided by the tandem. “They were
both very generous with their guidance,” he recalled. “But in both cases, I wasn’t quite able to
co-author, and neither one really pushed me in a direction where I could publish.” He described
them as “old school” and later realized they lacked “a particular knowledge” around “navigating
graduate school.” He watched from a distance as some of his peers benefitted from hands-on
support from their advisors. He said he was reluctant to criticize his advisors, who he liked and
respected, but he noticed how other advisors seemed to be able to give their advisees “a leg up,”
he said. Richard eventually served as a research assistant for a junior faculty member who filled
that void for him. Despite the injection of support, he said he regretted lacking such attention
during his first few years in the program. He wondered how things could have been different if
he had been matched up with that junior faculty member as a mentor from the start. “I would
have been so much more productive, so much more confident than I ended up being for those
first two years,” he said.
Daniel echoed Richard’s experience when it came to reflecting on the value of his
advisor, who he felt had given him great career and networking advice but had done very little on
the actual research part of his dissertation. “I mean the sort of commentary on my written work
was always superficial,” he said, “and that just clearly was not his focus.” Like Richard, Daniel
turned to a junior faculty member who, he said, “always took my writing and my ideas very
seriously, and really tried to help me refine them well.” The pattern continued with Genevieve,
who always felt she was a very good student, and yet she had difficulty navigating the informal
aspects of her studies without firmer guidance. She said she regretted that her advisor did not do
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more for her. Although they supported her applications to fellowships and stipends—and wrote
plenty of letters of recommendation for her—they never quite delivered in terms of helping her
find resources or opportunities. She would find them herself and then bring the short list of
options to them for advice. This passivity extended to the type of help she needed to improve her
writing in order to get published. “I felt like there was a little bit of passiveness, even when
asking for feedback,” she recalled. “I felt like that the feedback was good, but it was minimal,
and maybe not enough to, like, really get the publications flowing, I guess.”
Sonya also regretted the lack of proactivity and guidance from her advisor. She
appreciated her advisor’s wisdom but felt he only gave her input when she asked direct questions
and regretted that he didn’t anticipate that she had many gaps in her knowledge that would have
benefitted from firmer guidance, especially related to conference presentations and publishing.
At first, she appreciated that he didn’t pressure her to present her work at conferences, but only
later did she realize that she wasn’t served well by that approach and felt behind when she
noticed her peers receiving more guidance from their advisors. Lacking support from advisors,
Sonya and several of the other participants found themselves relying more on their peers for
support.
Peer Support
When the advisor relationship went awry, PhD students could lean on their peers for
emotional support. For example, the prospects of publishing a co-authored paper with a
dissertation advisor carried the greatest potential for confusion, disappointment, and even trauma
in the words of one student. Elena learned that the benefits of co-authorship never seemed to be
worth it based on the outcomes she witnessed among her cohort. Even when something was
published, Elena would need to comfort one of her friends who was still recovering from the
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aftermath of the collaboration. “I remember my classmates like crying,” she said. “Like about
how hard it was to work with their professors on those co-authored articles, and so that certainly
didn’t make me want to co-author an article with a professor either.” Elizabeth played a similar
role to her cohort mates. While she felt fortunate to have a supportive advisor, she was frequently
reminded how often the advisor-advisee relationship soured. She recalled taking friends out to
cheer them up and validate them for whatever they were going through at the moment.
Peer support straddled two important needs for three participants, closing the gap
between added academic support and much needed social-emotional support. Richard recalled
one of his first classes, when a professor told everyone, “You don’t make it out of grad school
alone.” He told them not to forget that their cohort was their first line of defense, their support
team. Richard made a habit of checking in with his friends regularly. He didn’t take it for
granted, as he knew there could be other cohorts that might have lacked that cohesive unity,
where cohort members might have been more competitive with one another, but his experience
had been the opposite of that. Genevieve said that, without reservation, her peer network was the
most impactful to her ability to get through the program. “So, you kind of have the shared
experience of trauma and joy,” she said, “because there is also a lot of joyful things as well.” She
and her fellow cohort members endured everything together—the tough professors, the bad
classes, the funding rejections, everything. “We were really close, we would meet a lot, and then
we also had, like a shared Facebook group, where we would exchange information on
assignments and deadlines, so there was like this community there.” Jorge learned to seek out
members of his cohort who were not first-generation in order to help fill his gaps in knowledge,
whether it be on a statistics program or where to find sources. “They were the ones who would
tell me, at least in very informal terms, if I was making mistakes,” he said. “They would tell me,
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‘I don’t think this makes sense’ in ways that faculty may not want to tell me.” Jorge relied on his
cohort for information about conferences, or to share works in progress so that he could polish
his drafts before showing to his advisor. While peer support was growing amid confusion and
discouragement, the participants were not necessarily finding ways to overcome ineffective
faculty mentorship.
Theme 4. “It’s Not Enough”: Navigating Resources
The fourth theme is the process of identifying and pursuing funding resources. While
students are taking courses, advancing in the dissertation process, and navigating the advisor
relationship, they are also needing extra funding to conduct research, attend conferences, or pay
the expensive fees for data sets or surveys that are essential to social science research. All
students receive a standard funding package upon entry to a program, including tuition, but
students report that basic funding from the academic department is not adequate to cover living
expenses, let alone the extra funds needed to advance their research projects. The effort to find
additional funds (scholarships, fellowships, research grants, research assistantships)
overwhelmed all but one of the participants and distracted them from their ability to focus on
their dissertations and coursework. This theme includes three findings: the funding is never
enough; the uneven flow of information about funding opportunities; and the sense of being on
their own in finding funding resources. Among the eight participants, each had different
perceptions of the amount of funding they received at the outset and took different paths toward
seeking additional resources. For example, Daniel stated he was thrilled that he would be paid to
be a student whereas Elizabeth was angry with a two-month delay in her initial payments. Sonya
admitted to being somewhat passive in pursuing outside fellowships whereas Genevieve dove
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fully into researching funding and fellowship options with the same determination she applied to
her coursework.
The Funding Is Never Enough
The intention of the funding package, especially the two fellowships years when students
aren’t expected to be teaching assistants or research assistants, was clear to Richard:
It kind of gives you the mental space to really focus on what you need to be focusing on,
right? And that enables, I think, an atmosphere of ‘we’re all kind of in this together’ as
opposed to, you know, ‘everybody for themselves.’
Daniel thought such an arrangement was too good to be true; he was amazed that he was getting
paid to be a student. He said he always had to work as a teenager, and he couldn’t believe that
this meant his job was to just be a student. He remembers calling his sister and telling her he
could quit all his jobs. “The stipend was just enough so that I didn’t need to do anything else
besides focus on my studies,” he said. “I wasn’t worried about making the stipend work for me.”
While he remembers other people struggling, he felt he had enough to get by on his simple
needs.
Jorge acknowledges how for first-generation or low-SES students, perceptions of
resources can be relative. He was first grateful for the arrangement. “You’re teaching,” he said of
the expectation to be a teaching assistant in exchange for funding. “You’re not breaking your
back doing manual labor.” But he also knew others might not see it the same way. “Even though
I did have a very positive experience, I know that might not be the case with other people who
expect way more money when it comes to getting funding, or people who expect stronger
connections.” Jorge also acknowledged that he lived at home with his family and had a strong
support network, which meant that his needs weren’t as great as students who had relocated or
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who might have a partner and/or children who count on them for support. “So, if the money
doesn’t arrive on time for me,” he said, “it’s not as big of a deal as it might be for other people.”
Elizabeth was one such person whose money didn’t arrive on time. Her recollection of
her entry into the program was seared into her memory by the stress of dealing with campus
bureaucracy around the distribution of funding in her first few months. She ended up having to
tap into her savings to get by. “I mean I was an international student, right? It’s not that you have
a credit card, we got nothing,” she said. “I had to rely on my savings to be able to pay rent or
even just lunch! I had a roommate who was very kind and helped me throughout the process.”
Two or three years into the program, Elizabeth was still using her savings to take part in essential
activities related to her dissertation, such as completing necessary fieldwork abroad. She had
obtained a small grant, but it wasn’t enough. While much of this burden came as a surprise to
Elizabeth, Genevieve had thought she had effectively assessed the financial landscape prior to
beginning the program. And yet she was still surprised to discover how little it all came to. She
said she felt let down by a system that wasn’t doing enough to set up PhD students to compete
with PhD students from other division 1 research institutions. “It’s not enough,” she concluded.
Genevieve and the other participants had discovered they needed to find more money in order to
succeed in the program.
The Uneven Flow of Information About Funding
Once PhD students reconciled the fact that they would need to find additional sources of
support, they took different approaches to identifying how to go about obtaining them. The first
source of information for all eight participants was invariably their own academic department,
the same unit that shared information on coursework, deadlines, and milestones such as proposal
defenses. Richard recalled a straightforward routine in which the department had made it “pretty
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clear” how to go about asking for resources. “The admins were eminently helpful, an absolute
Godsend,” he said. “Like, I’ve heard horror stories about folks having to kind of dig through
mountains of bureaucracy to kind of get a couple pennies.” But for other participants, there was a
feeling that the department was falling short of providing a clear understanding on how to go
about accessing some of these resource options. Again, Elizabeth said she felt underserved by the
department. She remembered receiving emails encouraging students to apply for external
funding but regretted the lack of guidance. “Other than occasional messages about external
funding,” she said, “I would never hear about the department at all. Again, as a first-gen, I have
no clue what is there, right? So, I depended a lot on what the department would tell me.” The
students again broke down into two camps, those who seized the opportunity and took charge,
and others who passively lost out because they didn’t know how to go about it. Richard’s
philosophy was that it never hurt to apply for any new funding opportunity. “Closed mouths
don’t get fed,” he said. “And so, I just kind of built that kind of muscle memory early on.
Whenever I found a potential funding source, I would get going on it.” Daniel took this concept
of initiative a step further, telling a story of growing up in a Christian household and how his
father used to tell him a parable from the Bible with one clear message: “Ask and you shall
receive.” “I’ve kind of always been comfortable doing that,” he said. “So really, that’s kind of
been my survival tactic—just being very transparent about what I need to succeed.”
Meanwhile, Elena and Carrie were similar to Elizabeth when it came to their perception
of the flow of information about resources. Elena, for example, tried to remember how she first
heard about research grants available to PhD students. She said she might have gotten emails, but
it wasn’t until her advisor said something that she started to look into her options. Sonya also
admitted to lacking the kind of initiative exhibited by students like Daniel or Richard. “I think I
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fall on the spectrum of not being aware of stuff because I usually read emails and stuff like that,
but I’m less active in terms of like going in and asking,” she said. “I know that some of my
colleagues are good at that, so I’m on the side of like being more passive.” Sonya came to see a
major drawback in her dependence on waiting for email announcements about funding and other
opportunities. She said those emails usually came only as a final call for proposals on the eve of
a pending deadline. Sonya said she wished there had been a system in which staff shared a long-
term timeline of suggested steps for seeking resources over the course of a year, for example,
rather than one random deadline after another with no time to put together a proposal or
application. She learned to rely more on her peers than her department when it came to tips and
suggestions on resources outside the department. Resourcefulness was becoming as important as
research training.
Being on Their Own To Find Funding
In recalling her frustrations with the flow of information, Sonya eventually came around
to an understanding on what it would take to succeed in the pursuit of funding:
You need to be really active. I know people who keep a list of this, a spreadsheet of that.
Otherwise, this is not a resource provided by the school. And as a person who is not very
active hunting for these opportunities, I’m not really aware of it unless people talk about
it.
One such person who was good at taking control was Genevieve. She was grateful for some of
the resources provided but learned that to get things done, she would have to take matters into
her own hands. She made good use of the opportunities shared by her department but learned to
also take advantage of funding provided by the Graduate School, the unit that presided over all
PhD programs in her university. She went to several presentations on fellowships and stipends
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and ended up obtaining a Graduate School fellowship in her third year. And still she felt
frustrated. “I had, like, a full year where I just applied to fellowships and scholarships that
weren’t really sent out through the department or through any other source, really,” she said.
Genevieve’s persistence contrasted to Sonya’s resignation. For example, Sonya confessed to not
even trying to seek funding from the Graduate School office even when she learned about an
opportunity. “All the hoops that I would have had to go through would always prevent me from
following through because there’s so much that we have to plan ahead and submit in advance in
order to get the funding.” She decided it was easiest to simply rely on her department’s
supplemental funding opportunities.
Jorge came around to a similar conclusion, but only after a lot of hard work and rejection.
He applied unsuccessfully for a Graduate School fellowship and then collected rejections on
several external grants. He finally secured one minority fellowship grant of $2,000 and took his
losses in stride. “I was disappointed, yeah, but I knew that the competition was really difficult,”
he said. “So, it’s pretty much throwing a dart in the dark. You don’t know if it’s going to land or
not, and that’s what I’ve noticed with academia. You don’t know if you’re going to be
successful.” He knew he would face similar odds when trying for a job or postdoctoral
fellowship or submitting an article for publication.
Carrie said she was motivated to do something about the challenges she and her peers
were having identifying and obtaining funding resources. After working as a research assistant
helping a unit on campus write external grant applications, she applied successfully for several
external grants of her own. Carrie decided to host some information workshops, filling a gap she
had recognized in the department. She knew from firsthand experience that students might not
follow through on options if no one is there to encourage them. “And the following year there
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was definitely an uptick in the number of students who won grants,” she said, “and so I thought
that was really helpful.”
Carrie’s efforts echoed Elena’s, who had responded to her own gaps in knowledge by
joining student government and organizing workshops for her cohort mates. Elena said she was
proud of her efforts but also recognized that she wished circumstances hadn’t required her to put
in so much time at the expense of her own studies:
I think we would have loved to not have had that responsibility. Like we took on that
responsibility because there were knowledge gaps that we wanted to fill. But like if an
organization on campus—like people who work full time—could have taken on the
responsibility for planning those workshops, that would have been a dream, let me tell
you.
Richard did find success identifying and earning a fellowship that he secured without any
guidance from the department—a mentor-teaching fellowship that allowed him to create his own
syllabus and teach an undergraduate course at his university while still a PhD student. Teaching
itself became a source of important income for the more advanced students who could string
together side gigs as adjuncts at other universities or community colleges in the area, earning
some money while also enhancing their CVs with teaching experience. However, three out of
eight of the participants were international students, who faced restrictions on employment and
income that left them shut out from these kinds of opportunities. “I am an international student,”
said Elizabeth, “and I mean the system reminds me of that every single step of the way.”
International students cannot work full time, and whatever work they take on has to be within
their own university setting. Watching her classmates gain access to opportunities that were not
available to her was very hard for Genevieve. She said she felt she had been shut out early in the
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program by an awards structure that benefitted advanced students, and then yet again late in the
program merely by being an international student. Genevieve, Elizabeth, and Sonya came to see
the role played in their academic fates by their intersectionality of their gender, race, first-
generation background, and international status. Genevieve summed up her experience:
It is very intersectional being a woman and a first-gen student as well an international
student. It’s kind of like the worst of everything because I feel like as a first-gen student I
didn’t know how to navigate funding and resources, and that was, I think, exacerbated by
the fact that I’m an international student, where I didn’t really know how the university
system really worked. The international student component figured centrally, probably
above everything else.
Despite the best effort, the process of securing funding remained an elusive challenge for
Genevieve.
Theme 5. “What It Takes To Publish”: Navigating the Profession
The fifth theme includes the activities and expectations around the process for writing,
submitting, and publishing academic articles while still in graduate school. This activity
represents the core occupation of what will become the students’ professional identity as
research scholars. The pressure to publish emerges early in a graduate program, but students can
struggle to demystify the process while simultaneously navigating the previous two themes in
this study: the advisor relationship and funding. The participants in this study traced the
pressures to publish to the early cultivation of a climate of persistent pressure around other
aspects of PhD life—working hard, securing funding, networking, and forming a dissertation
committee, among other expectations. Thus, the findings within this theme include: acclimation
to a general climate of pressure; unclear guidelines around publishing; and uneven experiences
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with writing workshops and professionalization programs. Within these experiences, students are
also advancing toward their professional identities as research scholars, attending academic
conferences with greater frequency, and serving as research assistants.
The Acclimation to a Culture of Pressure
The first finding pertains to the acclimation of students to a culture of pressure, which
then serves as the basis for instilling a culture of pressure related more specifically to publishing.
So, before the pressures of research productivity come the pressures of just about everything
else—the pressure to perform well in class, to network, to work constantly, to be perfect. Within
this context, students start to become vaguely aware of expectations around publishing but
struggle to identify the specific steps or procedures that will lead them down the right path, such
as where to publish or how to navigate a co-authorship arrangement with a faculty member.
Genevieve’s stated she had a false perception about what it would take to publish. “I thought that
people would just always be very nice and comforting and supportive,” she said, “and that is not
necessarily the case in academia, especially if you’re a PhD student.” She placed the nexus of
pressure at the intersection of student engagement with junior faculty. Genevieve described the
imbalance in messaging that PhD students would receive from faculty, with junior faculty
conveying an intensity and urgency based on the pressures they themselves feel on the tenure
clock versus a patten of passivity and indifference among senior faculty, including their
dissertation advisors. For Genevieve, this pressure contributed to an unhealthy work climate
around some of the other activities related to publishing, such as research assistantships:
I think some of the norms were definitely original research, being proactive, reaching out
to faculty. I also have to say, and this is especially true for junior scholars, there was
definitely a sense that you—as a researcher or as an RA—are expected to do a lot more
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work for junior scholars or researchers with very little benefit or payoff. You had to
hustle, and you had to prove yourself, basically, as a good researcher.
Work-life balance became interwoven into this process for some students. For example,
Elena recalled how one unhealthy message was conveyed in no uncertain terms from one junior
faculty member, who told students at one of the writing workshops that the only way to be
successful was to work 60 hours a week. “Not only was that ridiculous,” said Elena, “but it was
like toxic, and it especially singles out students who are not from traditional backgrounds, like
students who are in caretaking roles, which are often from systemically excluded groups, like
first-generation students.” She said a senior faculty member eventually talked to that junior
faculty member, but the admonition had nonetheless been “very traumatizing” to her and her
peers. Carrie reported that this kind of blanket pressure about all things related to research left a
mark. “So, after I graduated,” she said, “I realized that I had developed a couple of bad habits
that have affected me physically, mentally, and into my workspace and beyond and that I’m
trying to unlearn now.” Among those habits were a tendency to normalize being “stressed out” or
“working all the time.” When she wasn’t working, she said she felt guilty and wasn’t able to
relax. Carrie wished faculty did more to combat those unhealthy messages by sharing how they
spent the weekends doing something fun with their kids or by encouraging the PhD students to
go on outings or by reminding them that they didn’t need to be working all the time to be
successful PhD students.
The pressure to publish emerged from this broader culture of pressure. Like, Genevieve,
Sonya said she felt contrasting strands of pressure from junior and senior faculty. “I think we
were warned, even like from day one, that in this industry, it’s all about publications, and we
have to publish a lot,” she said. She went on to say that she wished there could have been a
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counterbalance from senior faculty to the pressures conveyed from junior faculty. Sonya felt the
message should have been more about quality than quantity. “I wish senior professors would
have been involved in like guiding us more, because sometimes they’re more calm and chill, as
opposed to junior professors.” In retrospect, Sonya thinks it could have been more helpful to
have more support connecting the formal setting of coursework with the informal process of
publishing.
I think that publishing can be brought up in a way that’s not so pressure-y. Like at the end
of the semester, you know, a faculty member can say like, ‘Hey, you’ve written a whole
paper for my class. Why don’t some of you try publishing it? And if you’re interested, let
me know, and I can point out a couple of publications that are appropriate.’ And it could
be as simple as that, and it’s not anything extra. It’s just what they’ve already done and
now they’re trying it for publication.
Sonya recalled how pressure formed around the expectation that she needed to co-author with a
faculty member. Again, this was another example of how an expectation set in without any
explanation of a process to get her from point A to B. She recalls being uncomfortable during her
first two years in the program as other students as well as faculty kept telling her she needed to
co-author, but she didn’t feel ready. She said she felt she was falling behind by not co-authoring.
But something changed during and after her 3rd year, as she began working more closely with
her advisor on her dissertation and she became more philosophical about the process, finding
enough space to give herself the kind of reassurance that no one else was giving her. “I think I
would have appreciated it if professors understood the PhD is more about learning than trying to
rush things through,” she said. She tried to find strength to combat the notion that she had to
keep publishing all the time or to co-author with her professors. “I think it kind of tells us that
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there is only one way to get successful in this career, which might not always be true.” Once
again, the participants sought an outlet for this pressure by looking for more guidance.
Lack of Guidance
A second finding is the lack of guidance and clarity around writing and publishing. Jorge
learned the difference between clear and contradictory guidelines. For example, by working with
his advisor as a research assistant, he was exposed to best practices. “He told me about creating a
codebook,” he recalled, “how to do the coding process, and how to be careful with that. And also
working on papers along the way. Because then I was able to translate those skills to my own
work.” But in other ways, as Jorge made it a habit to gather informal advice and tips from other
professors, he started to have difficulty reconciling contradictory advice. Jorge realized he was
receiving mixed signals on when to publish. In the process, he learned the new skill of adopting
advice selectively. For example, one faculty member told students they shouldn’t worry about
publishing or academic conferences and also said their focus in the last two years should fall
squarely on the dissertation. But other professors kept saying students should try to publish in
their first year if possible. Meanwhile, Jorge took advantage of attending job talks of candidates
who passed through his university applying for open faculty positions, and virtually all of those
finalists showed they had published prior to completing their degrees. “So, this signaled you
probably should have at least one or two publications when you’re applying for jobs because
otherwise you are going to lose out to people that have them and you don’t,” Jorge said. “So, I
ignored the professors who told me not to publish, and I decided to publish, even if it’s not my
main area, at least to signal I can get some work done.”
Richard experienced ambivalent support from his circle of co-advisors and dissertation
committee members. Rather than carrying him through a structured or guided path toward
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publication, his committee left him on his own, charting his path organically or even by
happenstance. After coming to terms with the lack of direction from his co-advisors, Richard
sought out other ways to forge community, attending conferences and workshops outside his
university. His first published article as a PhD student emerged from contacts he made at a
conference abroad among similar scholars who had also struggled to find a way to fit in in their
own programs. “It was connecting with folks who I think to a certain extent similarly didn’t quite
have a home among, you know, the academic tribe or their particular area of focus,” he said. “It
took a little kind of elbow grease and kind of boot strapping on my part to kind of find these
groups outside of my immediate setting and certainly outside of my department.” Back home, his
first article came about in a similar way, as he leveraged a strong relationship with a fellow
student. “His advisor kind of brought me on for my subject matter expertise about the group that
they were writing about,” said Richard, “and so I was able to get my first book chapter published
co-authoring it with them.”
Elena and Carrie described how the path to publication was too challenging on their own.
For example, Elena had felt she had done everything right—she had obtained research funding to
conduct a study related to her dissertation, she attended the department’s writing workshops, and
she met regularly with her advisor, but she said she still felt something was missing in
connecting the dots from research to published article. “I did that research and have results, and I
should have done something with them, but I didn’t,” she said. She said she wished someone
could have followed up with her to help her figure out what to do with her findings. “There were
just so many things that were unclear to me about the academic life, and I really easily could
have turned that into an article,” she said.
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One of the many realizations that came late to Carrie, a student who ultimately chose a
non-academic path, was that the centrality of the dissertation in the PhD program. She said that
she wished she had learned that everything should always come back to the dissertation. For
example, she didn’t always connect new course assignments or conference presentations back to
her dissertation but realized in retrospect that she had created busy work without a purpose. “All
of that work should be feeding into your dissertation,” she said, “or you can frame it so that it’s
usable for your dissertation.” Carrie expressed similar regret to Elena in how she managed to
produce a lot of papers that never got traction as potential published articles. These are not
students who lacked initiative, as each told stories about organizing workshops for their peers on
funding or other aspects of professionalization. But no one was doing anything in return for them
in any structured way. “And you know now thinking back,” Carrie said, “I wrote a lot of papers
for different classes that are just sitting in my drawer.”
Elena managed to get a small grant to support one project, but she lacked other forms of
support that might have connected the dots from research proposal to funding to data to written
article to, most importantly in this chain, published article. She said she regretted how one
particular article had gone unpublished. “I could have probably gotten a good foot in the door by
getting that sort of article out, but I just felt unprepared at that point to understand how to turn
things into an article,” she said. “I was very good at research but not good at turning it into
products.”
She said she wished she could have had a publications mentor aside from the advisor or
her professors.
If I had, like, a neutral champion, who was just like, okay, you do this and then I’m going
to review it and then we’re going to like do this, and I think I could have like figured out
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publication much earlier on, and had like more products to show, even at this point in my
life.
Carrie thought professors could have done more to encourage students to start out by aiming for
lower-tier journals “to get the ball rolling,” but instead the demand for perfectionism instills the
assumption that students need to aim for the elite journals, which to her bred a kind of cycle of
rejection and discouragement.
Sonya wished she hadn’t adhered so strongly to a solitary approach to things—of being
afraid to get help.
PhD students feel like they want to do things by themselves. It’s selection bias, right?
They are perfectionists, and they are less likely to ask for help. And they want to figure
things out by themselves. I wish I had less ego when I started out and was more willing to
accept help from other people, like going to talk to my adviser more often when I started
off. Now that I have learned the value of talking about ideas and going through things
and challenges … if I had known that this was going to be really valuable, I would have
started this even before my defense.
Likewise, Genevieve had her own lightbulb moment after figuring out how things really worked,
albeit too late to make a difference:
I realized what I needed to do to have a publication to then become a professor, and all of
what it takes. I think, then I realized, not necessarily early on, but definitely, I want to
say, after my 3rd year of the PhD, that I would like to explore, you know, other options.
Writing Workshops
PhD students combine various informal socialization experiences—writing, presenting,
interactions with faculty—through participation in writing workshops. These can take many
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forms, some embedded within departments or affiliated units, others more ad hoc around
campus, or perhaps organized informally by an advisor who gathers students with similar
interests for occasional feedback sessions. Daniel explained the way workshops operated in his
program, beginning with the precirculation of a paper by a student and the expectation that
everyone would read it and come prepared to discuss it. “You assign someone to sort of discuss
the paper very critically,” he said, “and then everyone can also discuss it, right? So, it was a sort
of an amicable but critical space to talk about working research projects.”
A secondary goal of this model was that the habits of engagement would carry over to
interactions in less formal settings with each other while also preparing the students for what
they would encounter at conferences. From week to week, the critical skills of participants would
improve, and occasionally the group would invite faculty presenters from within or outside the
university, thereby raising the stakes for students taking part as discussants or engaged attendees.
Daniel felt the habits instilled by these workshops set in motion some of the practices that would
serve him well, such as engaging in less formal feedback exchanges with his peers. Jorge also
recalled the value of participating in writing workshops, not just with his own writing, but what
he gleaned week-to-week as an attendee. For example, “What were they looking for in research
articles? So, what do they mean by data? What do they mean by a theory, and how are we
supposed to format our papers?” Jorge recalled how faculty took on informal roles as
gatekeepers of norms, reminding students of the purpose and benefits of these weekly
commitments. They made it clear that one of the norms of the department was to attend, to be
prepared, to contribute to the discussion. Everyone in his cohort picked up on the cue. “We
decided to attend,” said Jorge plainly. In time, Jorge presented his own paper and took full
advantage of the feedback. He revised the draft and managed to publish it in an academic journal
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before he graduated. “I got a lot of critical comments and feedback on it,” Jorge recalled. “It
would not have been possible to make all those changes if I hadn’t presented at the workshop.”
Carrie agreed on the value of writing workshops but said she still felt like an outsider,
showing how thin the line can be between mentorship and rejection. For example, the benefits of
the workshops extended not just to the student presenting the paper and receiving feedback but
also to the students taking turns as discussants as well as to everyone else who showed up and
offered feedback. So, to her, merely attending the workshops left her reeling with the kind of
anxiety she felt in those first few courses from her early years in the program. “I felt like I wasn’t
in a place to be critiquing other people’s papers,” she said, clarifying that it felt even more
intimidating when the presenter was a guest faculty presenter from another university. “But I
admired the more senior PhD students who always had a comment, and I didn’t know how they
did that,” she added. “I didn’t feel like I could do that, or I felt like when I said something it was
going to be really stupid.”
Genevieve also remembers these workshops from the vantage point of a student on the
periphery trying to find her voice, trying to participate in a practice that wasn’t ever explained
explicitly. Learning by observation seemed challenging to her because of the climate of
intimidation that seemed built into the weekly sessions. “I was shocked how rigorous they were,
and how cutthroat they were,” she recalled. She said that even in her first year or two in the
program it felt overwhelming to think that in another few years, she would be in the hotseat on
the receiving end of that criticism. Genevieve and Carrie each expressed how they wished more
could have been done to foster a better environment for engaging in a practice around
workshopping each other’s papers. “I think one of the most important factors that I found lacking
in some of the workshops was constructive criticism,” said Genevieve. She sat through some
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workshops where presenters were “treated very poorly” by junior faculty, where she said she
thought to herself that she would never subject herself to that. “It’s kind of like you’re exposing
yourself,” she said, “you’re completely vulnerable in front of like 10 people, and some people
just don’t hold back.”
For Genevieve, the worst of the pressure from junior faculty came in the workshop
settings. Elena echoed Genevieve in her recollection: “There was like an extremely large
competing pressure by the junior faculty in the program to participate in the workshops to the
extent that it was sort of like you’re a bad PhD student, and you’ll never be successful, if you
don’t want to participate.” When students felt the climate of intimidation from faculty getting too
strong, they leaned back on each other for support. “I remember talking to some of my
colleagues,” said Elizabeth, “and it was like, Okay, well, it feels scary, so we would practice.
Those of us who had to present would practice with each other.”
Underlying the performative anxiety was the pressure to be perfect. Students discussed
that papers presented at the workshop needed to be polished before they were presented for
feedback, thereby undermining the fact that the workshop was supposed to serve as one of many
steps in the process of developing a student’s writing. Elena said this climate proved especially
costly for first-generation students as well as women and those from systemically excluded
groups:
They also tend to overthink their work. And, so, they don’t think a paper is ready until it
is like 95% perfect. Whereas like, you know, men in the discipline might send it in like
70% perfect and get the reviewers to give them feedback. And, so, I absolutely fall into
that trap.
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Two participants who didn’t feel supported by the structures in the department—
Genevieve and Elizabeth—encountered more supportive settings elsewhere, allowing them to
realize what may have been missing from their program. Elizabeth spent a year at another
institution on a predoctoral fellowship and was struck by several differences in the workshops
run at the site of her fellowship—more faculty engagement and greater tolerance for papers in a
rougher state. Elena also realized only much later how much she would have benefitted from
more structure and support in the publications process. Despite the emphasis on attending the
workshops, her program didn’t adequately facilitate publications support after she presented her
paper. “I feel like I have a PhD and yet I still don’t understand the publishing process,” she said.
“Like I could go to workshops all day, but what I needed was like someone to sit down and work
through it with me and like hold me accountable.” A lack of publishing support carried echoes of
the familiar lack of mentorship support.
Theme 6. “A Positive Feedback Loop”: Striving for a Research Community
Upon reaching the ABD stage and prior to earning the PhD, students are expected to have
mastered the basic skills that will start serving them well as prospective professionals. The
participants’ earlier struggles informed their conceptions of what a supportive research
community might look like even as it was still taking shape for them. For example, late in her
program, Sonya had found community among her predoctoral fellowship cohort at a research
center. She was also getting more comfortable managing expectations with her dissertation
advisor, but she was still trying to demystify the process around conferences and publishing.
Genevieve, who had struggled through challenges related to funding and writing workshops, was
still trying to find a supportive community but had formulated an ideal definition of what she
was seeking: “I think a research community should be like-minded peers—junior and senior—
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who meet or exchange on a regular basis, early stage to almost done projects, and help each
other, give each other feedback along the journey.” This theme includes three findings: the
importance of a shared space for students; finding research community on their own terms; and
evolving from mentored to mentor.
A Shared Space
One of the most essential ingredients of a community was simply a space to congregate
with one another. All eight participants emphasized the importance of a shared student space to
their development as members of a scholarly community. Elena described the “computer center”
in her department as an essential space during her first few years in the program:
It was a place you could go not only to work, but also to get that informal knowledge
interaction, like to hear older students in the program talk about where they were in the
program, who to work with, who not to work with, success stories—all that sort of
informal information exchange. It absolutely made the difference for me.
Elizabeth had a similar experience. “Having a common space was key for us,” she said,
describing how up to 20 students could gather in the space to use the computers or more
importantly to exchange ideas informally. Exposure to more advanced students was invaluable.
She recalled more than one occasion when she and a fellow cohort member were struggling
through an idea, and a more senior student would interject: “‘Over here, I don’t want to interrupt
you, but this is how you can do this,’” recalled Elizabeth. “He literally spent like an hour
teaching us basically what we could not understand. I appreciated that a lot.”
Richard had a similar experience, recalling how common space in the department played
a role in building lasting friendships among the students. He said he could always count on
finding five or six members of his cohort in the space. “Just physically being around other
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members of your cohort was just super important,” he said. “Both in terms of your own creativity
and in terms of your work product, where you can kind of bounce ideas off them.” Hanging out
together also helped him and his friend blow off steam by talking about everything but their
studies. “And that kind of allowed you to have that mental reset that everyone needs most of all.”
Likewise with Daniel, who would go to the library when he had a deadline, but other times he
sought out his program’s lounge if he needed to “socially engage.”
Sonya shared how she found both intellectual and emotional support in the shared office
space that she shared with other predocs. Although crowded at times, it became a source of
comfort and camaraderie, enacting what Daniel had called “commiseration and celebration”
among cohort members. “I think it’s good to know that people are also struggling,” said Sonya.
“We’re all in it together, and we all are trying to keep each other sane throughout the process.”
Like Elizabeth, she recalled more senior students holding impromptu tutorial sessions for more
junior students, while everyone took turns reading each other’s drafts. Until she experienced it
herself, she said, “I didn’t realize how good that environment provides for a sense of safety and
friendship.”
Elena recalled how such a space was not immune from some of the cultural issues that
could render a community vulnerable. As her PhD program became more diverse in terms of
gender and race, the computer center became the site of several microaggressions, she said, and
students started to avoid the space. A short time later, administrators remodeled several spaces in
the building and moved the computer center to a smaller room, and the veteran students
expressed feeling something important had been lost. “And I think that’s really a shame,” said
Elena, “because every class was getting more diverse, and those are exactly the sort of students
that would have benefited from a dedicated space and that kind of informal interaction.”
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Finding Community on Their Own Terms
While the students articulated that they appreciated the comfort and safety of spaces with
each other, they still sought a community that could include both their peers and faculty.
Elizabeth, who had mentioned her habit of once practicing workshop presentations with her
fellow students in advance, reported an epiphany when she joined a workshop at another
university as a predoctoral fellow late in her program. She said she found that the faculty from
her host university were far more involved than those at her home institution and that there was a
major difference in the tone of each workshop. “Maybe it’s culture,” she considered, but her
experience in the new setting was less formal in the sense that papers were not as perfect. While
she saw value in the structure of her home institution’s workshops, she said she had never felt
comfortable with the impact an “intimidating” environment had on younger cohorts.
Genevieve had a similar realization when she branched out and found another workshop
series elsewhere on her campus. Unlike the prior workshop, which had been made up only of
faculty and PhD students from that same department, her new circle of graduate students and
faculty was cobbled together from a variety of fields and programs tied together by the informal
leadership of one of her dissertation committee members, a faculty member from outside her
department. They met on a semi-regular basis in person, moved online during the pandemic, and
also wove in dinners organically:
I have presented things there where I just felt completely helped and supported, and even
if it was the dumbest thing, I knew, even from senior to junior faculty, that they would
help me. And I never really had the feeling that that was the case within the department, I
have to say.
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The professor had brought together faculty and graduate students from social work,
communication, political science, public policy, and preventive medicine, among other fields.
“We have organized a cross-disciplinary workshop,” she added, “where people from different
communities came together and we have speakers and presenters, brainstorming sessions and
stuff like that.” Key to Genevieve was the mix of junior and senior scholars, giving the group a
“legitimacy and authority,” she said, but unlike the other workshops, the advice would be “very
constructive and productive, paired with junior scholars who are really methodologically
advanced,” combining substantive and research design methods expertise. In the process,
Genevieve said she realized an effective research community needed to be supportive. She also
made a point of saying what it should not be. “It should not be there to show other people are
better, or that your research matters less because of your topic or the methods that you’re using,”
she said. “It is where you can feel comfortable as a researcher to ask dumb questions, to share
even the earliest ideas, to share models and things that you did that are not really comfortable
with, or that you’re not really sure of without having the feeling that you will get destroyed by
your peers.”
Richard struggled to find a community in part because of his academic focus. “I was kind
of neither fish nor fowl in terms of the discipline because of my cross-disciplinary research
interest,” he admitted. In attempting to break into a working group within his national
association, he said he felt shut out, not just due to his more diverse interests, but also to the
composition of the group. “It was kind of hard breaking into that group because the majority of
them were from a kind of elite background in terms of the institutions they attended,” he said,
explaining that “95% were from institutions like Yale, Harvard, and Princeton.” So, he gave up
on that group, and continued to seek out like-minded peers and faculty, eventually finding a
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home among other scholars with interdisciplinary focus areas that he met through a workshop
abroad. “I actually made a number of important connections through those workshops that still
stick with me today,” he said. Ultimately, for Richard, a research community needs to be a group
of colleagues who are a mix of mentors and students that encourage one another and offer
support to one another. “So, it’s something of a positive feedback loop that goes through this
group,” he said.
Daniel found the makings of community not within his own university, like Genevieve,
or at a workshop abroad like Richard, but through an apprentice role that he began cultivating
with a junior professor from his field from another university. What started as a couple innocent
questions related to his dissertation turned into a meeting for coffee at his discipline’s national
conference. His new mentor started introducing him to faculty from other universities, and that
led to his awareness of “working groups,” a common distillation of a discipline at the national or
international level, where scholars in smaller, niche subfields collaborate annually to plan panels,
hold their own meetings and receptions, network, and honor the formative senior scholars in their
field through book awards or career achievement tributes. They are communities within a
community. And Daniel said he had no idea they existed until he was ABD and in his 4th year,
thanks to a generous junior scholar from another university. “I realized, oh, within this huge
national association thing there’s like a club, and like different sorts of research-focused clubs,”
he said. “To this day, I believe that this is the unit that makes everything happen.” He took part
in workshops and conferences with these new colleagues. “There are these types of network
pockets within these huge institutions, and this is what I learned was one of the best ways to
invest your time.” Daniel ended up co-authoring with someone he met in his working group. His
definition of a research community, therefore, came with two parts.
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On one level is like the people around you who are dedicated to the process of knowledge
… really getting to the bottom of things, and sort of the people you trust to help you do
that. That’s the small version, right? So, people I want to exchange papers with and
provide feedback. And the big version is like the huge scientific community—the editors
of journals who send me stuff to review, right? The conference organizers who put
together panels, right? All of these people are dedicated to research in the same way as
well. So, I would call that a sort of bigger tent research community.
Meanwhile, Jorge and Sonya came up with similar dual definitions of a research
community, albeit while trying to overcome the social challenges they faced as self-proclaimed
introverts. “So, I have two definitions for research community,” said Jorge, “one that is very
specific to your field, and the other that is a bit more broad.” Like Daniel and Richard, he sees
the value of parallel processing an inner circle of like-minded scholars while being tapped into
the broader discipline around best practices in methodology and other approaches that span the
niche areas of a discipline. Sonya shared a similar ideal: “So I have, like, a narrower circle, and
probably a larger circle. The narrow one would be, you know, just having friends around who I
can bump my ideas back and forth with, and like helping me getting through some of the things
that I can’t really solve.” She emphasized that she didn’t quite get the full impact of that smaller
circle by relying on her department. Like Genevieve and Elizabeth, she found community in the
workshops with her predoctoral fellows’ cohort, which brought a greater sense of safety and
consistency than the ones offered by her department. Sonya was still learning more about the
larger circle she alluded to, but she had also reflected more on her own role—the individual at
the center of these dual spheres of community. “Yeah, like in the beginning, I thought maybe I
could do it all by myself,” she said, convinced that friends were just friends with no other role to
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play in her ambitions to be a scholar. “But since I got exposed to the culture of people trying to
help each other out, I think I started to appreciate the impact,” she said, citing tips on funding
and other opportunities that were shared among her fellow predoc members. “I didn’t know that I
would need these people before, but after I got exposed to it, I saw a complete difference
between not having support and having support, and I definitely appreciated that.”
Jorge could relate to that inner struggle. “It’s difficult for me to make connections with
people,” he confessed, relying more on his family support at times than on his peers or faculty
within or beyond his program. “And the PhD experience is very individualized.” And yet over
time, he said he came to appreciate the value of membership in a research community. In their
own circuitous ways, the participants had identified the ingredients that enhanced their growth as
research scholars.
From Mentored To Mentor
As the participants began forming more complex views of research communities, they
also began seeing mentorship as a two-way process rather as the top-down model they imagined
upon entering the program. Carrie, who struggled as a mentee to various faculty, said she
appreciated a big sibling/little sibling program in which student government paired veteran PhD
students with members of the incoming cohort, attempting to troubleshoot some of the confusion
that could easily set in. Carrie recalled a helpful conversation about strategies for tackling the
reading load from her courses, but “the relationship kind of fizzled out after a bit,” and in fact the
student government ended the program by the time Carrie would have been ready to serve as a
big sibling mentor herself. But Carrie nonetheless said she saw great value in that first pairing, as
artificial as it might have seemed. “I built relationships with a bunch of other more senior PhD
students that happened more organically,” she said.
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Elizabeth privileged social-emotional support as an essential ingredient of mentorship.
She felt lucky because her mentor was kind of on top of everything else. “There is the
professional and academic aspect of it, but there’s also the more human part of it that makes you
feel that, you know, it’s not just your research, it’s not just your brain or the outcomes that you
produce,” she said. “It’s also your well-being. Like asking, ‘Are you OK?’” So, a mentor needed
to give practical advice but at the same time take care of their students. “I think that that’s
something that unfortunately I haven’t seen in general in academia,” added Elizabeth. Carrie
pushed the definition of mentor a bit further: “I think it’s someone who can support you by
knowing what your goal is and then helping you reach that goal.” She recalled many professors
who pushed her toward goals that they wanted for her, instead of what she wanted. That
contradiction became more glaring as she started to move closer to a career outside academia.
These higher standards helped the PhD students privilege the value of support beyond the
advisor relationship. Jorge sought out advice from anyone he could find from within his area of
interest—peers ahead of him, peers who had started the program after him, and faculty beyond
his committee or outside his university. As Carrie drifted away from a traditional academic
career path, she adopted the same method as Jorge, asking around until she found someone
willing to give her good advice about a nonacademic path. “So, I was lucky enough to have a
couple of those people in my life during my PhD program, and that was really helpful for me,”
she said.
As students approached the ends of their programs, they shared how the idealized notions
of mentorship had given way to a complex web of relationships. Networking not only
accelerated their exposure to helpful advice but gave them more opportunities to help others in
return, enhancing their sense of value and expertise. Jorge, an admitted introvert, dabbled on
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Twitter and was pleased to make a few helpful contacts that he later deepened when he met the
person at a conference. Daniel, who had learned about the value of national conferences through
his discovery of working groups, also made good use of the annual meetings to set coffee
appointments with anyone who would reply to his inquires. He also volunteered to check people
in at the conferences, capitalizing on every inroad he could leverage to enhance his network.
Some of the best advice that Genevieve received was from a fellow student. She regularly
asked more veteran students for insights, including tips on obtaining a research assistant position.
“You need to focus on methods,” she said they would tell her. “Those are the faculty who
usually have research assistants, and they said, ‘Just be bold and reach out.’ And I wouldn’t have
done that had I not been given that advice, you know. I would have just waited until somebody
approached me.” Genevieve completed the circle by paying the advice forward. “You passed that
stuff on,” she said, “all the good that has been done to you.” Whenever she encountered a newer
student who might have been confused or insecure from some of the experiences she had
endured, such as taking a course with a bad professor or struggling over methods, she would
intervene. “I did a lot of mentoring sessions with people, helping them through this shared
trauma that you yourself have passed, but they are still going through it.”
Daniel said he strived to become the kind of mentor he wished he had had. Now a tenure-
track professor at an R2 university, Daniel tells the story of an undergraduate student he helped
recently, someone who illustrated his point about how often the most talented students fail to
recognize their own talent. “They’re always too humble, especially when they’re around arrogant
people,” he says, remembering how familiar the feeling can be of underestimating oneself. After
being blown away by the student’s writing, in a language that wasn’t her first, he urged the
student to come to his office hours and proceeded to tell her how exceptional her writing was.
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She had no idea. “Looking for those kinds of disparities between one’s own self-estimation and
what they actually are capable of,” he summarized, “that’s a really important circle to close in
mentorship, I believe.” His definition of mentorship had three parts—first is to help students
figure out what is best for them by their standards. “It’s not my place to push students into
academic careers,” he said, well-aware that that method had been imposed on him. Second is to
“help students build the toolbox that gets them making progress on that path.” And third is to do
everything within his power to help them get there.
Summary
The experiences of the eight participants from this study reveal the many challenges
faced by first-generation students who pursue a PhD degree in a social science field, from the
earliest steps leading to the decision to apply to graduate school to the culmination of their
program, when they earn the degree and embark on a career that leverages their new training as a
research scholar. As indicated by the research questions of this study, an exploration of both the
relationships and environments encountered by these students can inform an assessment of how
agents in the university setting can improve research support at various stages of development.
Furthermore, by exploring these experiences in context to theoretical frameworks, such as the
graduate student socialization framework and the ecological systems theory, practitioners can
identify essential strategies for enhancing support.

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Chapter Five: Discussion
Several factors contribute to the success of productive researchers, including mentorship,
attending conferences, financial support for research, and membership in an active and
supportive research group (Browning et al., 2014). Furthermore, the greatest indicator of success
is the complexity of the student’s scholarly community (Devos, 2012). The participants’
experiences echo the findings of Roska et al. (2018), whose study compared the experiences of
first- and continuing-generation PhD students. It found that the challenges faced by first-
generation PhD students—as they moved through the first two years of their program—are
characterized not by increasing academic rigor as much as they are by variations in engagement
through formal and informal socialization practices (Roska et al., 2018). This chapter addresses
several patterns that emerged from the findings and offers five recommendations for enhancing a
culture of research support for first-generation PhD students.
Discussion of the Findings
The experiences of eight first-generation PhD students show how variations in
socialization impact research support, including quality of mentorship, access to funding, and
effectiveness of guidance around publishing. The findings also reveal that first-generation PhD
students have similar perceptions of their membership in a research community. For example,
Sonya described her research community as having a “narrower circle, and a larger circle,”
which was echoed by Daniel’s description of like-minded scholars around him who also operate
within a “bigger tent research community,” consisting of journal editors and conference
organizers. Jorge, too, saw his research community on two levels.
These reflections of research communities spanning multiple environments mirror the
ecological systems model, which consists of the microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem, and
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macrosystem. The model provides a framework for exploring the ways an individual engages
with their environment, and in turn how the environment influences the formation of an
individual’s identity (Evans et al., 2017; Renn & Arnold, 2003). For example, Sonya’s
participation in a predoctoral fellowship program at a research center late in her PhD program
formed part of her mesosystem, whereas Daniel’s involvement with his discipline’s national
association occupied his exosystem. Both research questions from this study—one focused on
the experiences of students in their environments and the other on students’ relationships with
various stakeholders in these settings—lead to enhanced findings when explored in context to the
ecological systems model.
In addition, this study benefited from situating the findings within a second conceptual
model—the graduate student socialization framework (Twale et al., 2016; Weidman et al., 2001;
Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020). For example, the first two themes of this study—PhD student
pathways and the transition into graduate school—relate to the framework’s anticipatory stage,
which includes both the preparatory and recruitment phases of entering a PhD program as well as
idealized expectations about graduate school. The next three themes—mentorship, funding, and
publishing—pertain to the synergistic formal and informal stages of the model, where students
navigate the three primary socialization processes of interaction, integration, and learning.
Finally, the sixth theme addresses student impressions of research communities, which coincide
with the onset of the fourth stage of the graduate student socialization framework—the personal
stage. It features the constellation of knowledge and skills that ground the emerging scholar as a
professional rather than as a student.
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For the eight participants in this study, no singular type of experience guaranteed success,
and likewise each student faced unique forms of adversity. However, four broad patterns
emerged from the findings:
• The slow start that first-generation PhD students experienced at the beginning of their
programs represented an interruption—rather than simply a delay—to their
socialization.
• First-generation PhD students possessed variations in how they engaged their
environments, which signaled strategies for interventions among the agents in these
settings.
• First-generation PhD students demonstrated an overreliance on the academic
department and dissertation advisor in navigating the informal stage of socialization.
• Uneven exposure to professionalization experiences such as conferences, writing
workshops, and publishing delayed the onset of the personal stage of socialization,
which represents the formation of a professional identity.
By assessing these patterns within the ecological systems model and the graduate student
socialization framework, and within the merged conceptual framework of zones of engagement,
this study sets a foundation for identifying recommendations for enhancing the culture of
research support for first-generation PhD students.
An Early Interruption to PhD Student Socialization
The slow start that first-generation PhD students experience at the beginning of their
programs represents an interruption—rather than simply a delay—to their socialization. This is
because socialization begins prior to the start of coursework, with the anticipatory stage of the
graduate student socialization framework, which acknowledges the developmental role played by
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a student’s background, predispositions, and cultural capital. All eight participants in this study
felt momentum as they advanced toward their eventual goal to pursue a PhD. For example,
Elizabeth, Sonya, Carrie, Richard, and Genevieve shared how they drew strength from their
backgrounds, integrating their identities as either immigrants or as children from immigrant
families into their career and academic goals. But then all eight participants also described
turbulent transitions, manifesting in dramatic drops in self-confidence upon entering the PhD
program.
Richard, Genevieve, and Elizabeth had once navigated complex environments in earlier
settings, building relationships with high school teachers and college professors, such as
Richard’s pre-law professor, or utilizing support programs for first-generation college students,
such as Elizabeth’s living-learning community and Elena’s undergraduate research support
fellowship. But in their new PhD programs, these three participants engaged only tentatively in
their environment, intimidated by faculty and peers alike. For example, cultural expectations
around authority figures kept Carrie from envisioning herself as a prospective peer to faculty; she
said she also felt intimidated by other students in her cohort who seemed to navigate those
relationships with ease while also exhibiting a familiarity around conferences and co-authorship
in the first semester. Genevieve and Elena’s reliance on peers for emotional support frequently
came at the expense of engaging diverse stakeholders in both the mesosystem (department,
research center, student organizations) and exosystem (university, graduate school, grant-giving
agencies).
This break in socialization coincided with feelings of imposter syndrome for Jorge,
Carrie, Daniel, and Elizabeth. Such feelings emerged when trying to keep up with coursework,
such as Carrie’s struggle to understand the hidden curriculum around weekly readings and
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writing literature reviews. Elizabeth and Elena’s prior experience earning a master’s degree and
working in a professional setting for several years did not insulate them from these feelings of
insecurity. Even when students attempted to compensate for their inexperience through
persistence, such as Jorge’s frequent questions to his continuing-generation counterparts, they
still experienced gnawing feelings of doubt, such as Elizabeth’s constant voice in her head: “Am
I good enough?” Genevieve said she struggled to maintain her confidence despite the positive
affirmation she had received from mentors prior to the PhD program.
Exacerbating this period of transition was the growing impression among four
participants that their prior academic experiences weren’t up to the standards of the faculty in the
PhD program. Genevieve, Jorge, Richard, and Carrie mentioned how they felt they were lacking
in skills in methods training specifically. Thus, rather than feeling like they were beginning a
new phase in their development as researchers, they instead felt they were behind or ill prepared,
consistent with the conclusion of Twale et al. (2016) that first-generation students who enter
graduate programs report perceptions of inadequate skills or training. Weidman et al. (2001)
state that students have idealized notions of graduate study during the anticipatory stage, a
mindset that is meant to fade as they transition to the formal and informal stages. Put more
clearly, idealized views of graduate school should give way by the end of the anticipatory stage
if agents in the multiple systems have adequately explained procedures and routines, thereby
grounding the students in the day-to-day activities of formal and informal activities. Lacking
such an adequate integration into the community, the participants endured a persistent period of
confusion that undermined their ability to interact more fully in critical milestones of the first
several years of graduate study, such as Carrie’s self-described trauma in being dropped by her
dissertation advisor in her second year.
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During these struggles, the students shared mixed reports on how well staff and other
agents in their various settings (department, discipline, university) facilitated their integration
into a research community in what we can now call zones of engagement. For example, Richard
found department staff helpful in pointing him toward various funding opportunities, whereas
Elizabeth and Sonya found the department to be unreliable as a resource beyond the basic
functions of course registration, for example. Unclear guidelines around socialization were
alleviated most often by the participants’ own persistence rather than from any interventions
from stakeholders such as dissertation chairs, administrators, or other faculty. For example, Jorge
made a point to be extra-vigilant in all settings, soaking in random advice mentioned at the end
of a class. He also drew lessons on professionalization by attending job talks of candidates for
faculty at his university and mentioned how he came to ignore conflicting advice from faculty. In
sum, the participants in this study tended to persist in many engagements in isolation rather than
through the support of agents such as other faculty, staff, or resources in other university units.
Only in retrospect did the participants identify the types of interventions that could have
served to facilitate a smoother transition for them into the PhD program. For example, Richard
regretted not being matched as a research assistant sooner in his program since he found his work
with a junior faculty member to have been so impactful. He also noted the number of
professional development programs in his department that occurred late in his program,
regretting the absence of programming that would have catered to PhD students in earlier stages
of development. Elena and Sonya wished there had been a buffer to combat the perfectionism
that pervaded both classroom discussions and the informal workshop programs. And Carrie cited
the brief benefit of a big sibling/little sibling program that could have had a greater impact
among her cohort if the sponsoring unit—her student government—had not discontinued it.
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PhD Student Responses to Their Environment Signal Agent Responses
The eight participants reacted differently to their environments, with some students
responding more assertively to challenges while others withdrew. According to Bronfenbrenner
(1979, 1993, 2005), each person at the center of the ecological systems model will show
variations in their “developmentally instigative characteristics,” which are defined as the
collection of attributes that either induce or inhibit the person’s engagement with their
environment (Patton et al., 2016, p. 42; see Table 3). Richard put it succinctly when describing
his approach to identifying and pursuing funding opportunities. “Closed mouths don’t get fed,”
he recalled. “Whenever I found a potential funding source, I would get going on it.” Daniel, too,
had his personal philosophy, borrowed from Sunday school lessons: “Ask and you shall receive.”
He converted a simple motto from his father into a strategy for graduate student survival: “It
served me well to just know that if I needed grant funding, I would go to this administrative
assistant or that person, and just say, hey, I need this. What do I do? Where do I go? What is
available?” Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Sonya tended to hang back, waiting for the department to
send out emails on various funding opportunities.

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Table 3
Developmentally Instigative Characteristics of PhD Students
Characteristic Definition Examples
Invite or inhibit responses
from the environment
PhD students either seek out
help and support or
conversely refrain from
pursuing assistance

Þ Genevieve researched
funding opportunities
on her own and
compiled her own
database of resources

Þ Sonya did not pursue
funding opportunities
unless the department
shared information
with her

Selective responsivity PhD students each approach
their surroundings differently,
some choosing to join
organizations while others
remain on their own
Þ Jorge attended weekly
workshops regularly

Þ Carrie avoided the
workshops because
she felt intimidated

Structuring proclivities Tendency to challenge
themselves and persist
through increasingly complex
activities that lead directly to
their professional
development

Þ Elena and Carrie both
persevered after being
dropped by their
dissertation advisors
Directive beliefs Level of agency students
bring to their own
development
Þ Daniel volunteered at
his national
conference and
networked with
faculty from other
universities

Note: Source: Patton et al., 2016, pg. 42; Renn & Arnold, 2003
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Thus, the eight participants took contrasting approaches to how they interacted and
integrated into the research community, with some diving in while others were more inhibited.
Bronfenbrenner (1979, 1993, 2005) outlined four types of developmentally instigative
characteristics. First, is a tendency to either “invite or inhibit responses from the environment”
(Patton et al., 2016, p. 42). Thus, Richard and Daniel invited responses from their environment
by seeking out funding information, whereas Sonya and Elizabeth tended to be inhibited. Second
is the student’s selective responsivity, or the variation in which they choose to engage their
surroundings, such as the difference between Jorge pushing himself to attend the writing
workshops weekly versus Carrie avoiding the workshops out of fear for how she will look
commenting on someone’s paper. Third, students with strong structuring proclivities tend to
persist in the face of challenges, setbacks, or increasingly complex activities. For example,
Richard didn’t give up trying to “find his academic tribe,” in his words, as he sought camaraderie
from like-minded scholars that shared a similar interdisciplinary approach. Discouraged by one
group and then another, Richard eventually clicked with a group of scholars and subsequently
found a path to publication. Jorge also learned to navigate mixed advice from faculty to publish
his first article. Genevieve, too, persevered in the face of the rigid preferences in her department
for quantitative methods over qualitative. Determined to excel, she took the advice from more
advanced students to develop strong quantitative skills if she ever wanted to be a research
assistant. Genevieve clearly had strong structuring proclivities since she did indeed obtain a
coveted research assistant position. Finally, the students’ directive beliefs represent the level of
agency they bring to their own development. This is the “elbow grease” that Richard spoke of in
his networking—the “nose to the grindstone” in the face of adversity. Carrie and Elena persisted
after their advisors dropped them. Indeed, by the end of their programs, all eight participants in
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this study can stake a legitimate claim for having strong directive beliefs since they all graduated
with PhD degrees.
The strength of a student’s initiative can have a dramatic impact on the outcomes of
distinct milestones in their trajectories. While all eight participants eventually completed their
programs, they didn’t always experience responses from the environment that adequately
interpreted their needs. For example, late in her program, Elizabeth could count on both the
compassion and expertise of her advisor, who she said knew when to stop and simply ask
Elizabeth, “Are you OK?” But Sonya said she felt her advisor never intuitively anticipated her
needs, whether it be advice on her papers, attending conferences, or co-authorship, let alone her
well-being.
The consensus among at least four of the participants was that their advisors were
“passive,” which is especially notable in context to the discussion of developmentally instigative
characteristics. In a systems model, the response patterns of a person are clear signals to agents
to react accordingly. In this sense, passivity or indifference is not an excusable trait, say, of
benign aloofness of a bookish sage, a stereotype that continues to persist, but rather it is a
genuine lapse or break in a system that relies on engagement in multiple directions to attain the
goal of student development.
The value of such a model is not to assign scores or metrics to a student’s agency on a
spectrum but rather for agents to use their informed awareness of variations in instigative
characteristics to provide added support or direction for those who need it at critical junctures in
their development within various zones of engagement. This two-way agency is essential for
enacting the three mechanisms of socialization: interaction with others; integration into or sense
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of fit with the expectations of faculty and peers; and learning of knowledge and skills necessary
for effective professional practice (Sweitzer, 2009).
With this in mind, we can see in the stories of the eight participants how they evolved in
terms of their instigative characteristics as they deepened their engagement and interaction—in
essence, benefitting from what the environment gave back to them: Richard and Daniel working
with a junior faculty member, Carrie tapping into her mentor’s network while abroad on a
Fulbright Fellowship, Genevieve finding a new writing workshop that better suited her needs,
and Daniel leveraging an outside mentor to discover a new working group based within his
discipline’s national association. In time, all participants became more outgoing, more
integrated, more engaged. But their prior periods of being left on their own (Genevieve’s funding
struggles, for example) served to demonstrate how their eventual integration into their
community had been delayed due to a lack of complexity in their various settings.
Overreliance on the Department and Dissertation Advisor
The early interruption to PhD students’ development, along with inhibiting responsive
characteristics, can lead to an overreliance on the academic department and dissertation advisor
for guidance during the informal stage. Such a dependency can keep students from engaging in a
more complex web of relationships that could enhance support in key areas such as methods
training, funding, and publishing. Genevieve, Elizabeth, Sonya, and Jorge felt poorly served by
the department time and again, and yet they continued to expect the department to be the primary
source of all support, even for informal aspects of their socialization. When dissatisfied with
inaction from the department or advisor, the participants in this study reverted to two patterns of
behavior—they either commiserated with peers or they took charge of a challenge on their own,
such as the professional development sessions that Carrie and Elena organized. Less common
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were stories of agents who intervened or redirected them, such as Daniel and Richard’s positive
experiences working with junior faculty mentors.
The initial dependence on the department is a logical step in a student’s early navigation
of the formal stage. As students come out of the anticipatory stage and immerse themselves more
fully into formal interactions such as coursework, writing papers, and planning for their exams,
the department can serve as an ideal base for launching into informal socialization experiences
such as networking with additional faculty, identifying secondary or tertiary subfields, and
attending workshops or social gatherings with peers and faculty. The graduate student
socialization framework features the formal and informal stages in tandem due to the
interconnectedness of the two types of activities.
The participants from this study voiced disappointment and frustration that the
department was not providing more guidance around funding, professional development, and
publishing support. By the end of their first year, they should be moving nimbly back and forth
between the formal and informal stages. Thus, lingering too long in the formal stage without
honing skills in informal activities can set a student behind in their development. According to
Weidman et al. (2001), “to be successful, incumbents cannot remain in the formal stage but must
also venture into and become charter members of the informative realm” (p. 13). So, from the
stability of the department and the formal stage (microsystem and mesosystem), the student
should venture outward, and in the process begin exploring resources and agents in the exosytem
and macrosystem. However, the participants in this study had a difficult time identifying and
engaging various agents in their environment, therefore reverting too often to the safety of the
department.
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Likewise, student patterns for forming relationships with their dissertation advisors
represented another misalignment. Just as students held on to idealized notions of graduate
school well past the end of the anticipatory stage, they also clung to idealized views of their
advisors. Students invariably come into the program assuming the advisor will take them—the
apprentice— under their wing. However, the anecdotes of the participants don’t bear out this
cliché. First-generation PhD students have different conceptions of the relationship as compared
with continuing-generation students, with first-generation students expecting more hands-on
guidance as compared with their continuing-generation counterparts (Wofford et al., 2021).
Unfortunately, the advisors, many of them White men, did not subscribe to a
compassionate and holistic model of mentorship (Posselt, 2018). The lack of structure and
protocol for formalizing the advisee-advisor relationship added another challenge. While
students like Jorge and Elizabeth matched up with advisors early, many students needed time to
identify a potential advisor. And once the match was made, students began placing certain
expectations on that relationship that did not align with those of the advisors themselves. As with
the dependency on the department, students found themselves unable to engage more fully with
agents in the meso-, exo-, and macrosystems when they depended on dissertation advisors as
their guides and facilitators in this process.
The passivity of advisors, as per the experiences of Richard, Genevieve, and Sonya, for
example, did not align with expectations from these students that the advisors could ever
facilitate growth in networking, funding efforts, publishing options, and participation in
conferences. However, despite the ambivalence from advisors, the participants in this study
nonetheless continued to treat the department and advisor as their primary agents of support. In
this context, the prevalent feeling among the participants of being left on their own disguised a
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broader phenomenon in which students were not experiencing enough responsiveness from those
agents that they attempted to engage. Lack of support in zones of engagement stalled their
development.
Uneven Exposure to Professionalization
Uneven exposure to professionalization can postpone the onset of the personal stage of
the graduate student socialization framework. The types of experiences and relationships that
represent the personal stage of the graduate student socialization framework include conferences,
writing workshops, publishing, and networking with scholars within and beyond the home
university. The experiences of the eight participants showed the impact of uneven engagements
with agents in their various environments who conveyed inconsistent expectations and norms.
Just as all eight first-generation PhD students had turbulent entries into the program, they also
had uneven guidance toward the development of a professional research identity. For example,
while Richard and Daniel benefitted greatly from individual mentorship from junior faculty
members as a research assistant supervisor or informal mentor, Genevieve and Elena
experienced junior faculty as toxic gatekeepers of the discipline in group settings, such as the
weekly workshop series with faculty and peers from their department. Contradictory norms
around attending conferences and participation in workshops were common themes in the
interviews, especially for Genevieve, Sonya, Elena, Carrie, and Elizabeth. Unclear expectations
at the workshops injected unhealthy work habits and unobtainable expectations of perfectionism,
according to Elena. Rather than persisting in the workshop setting, she retreated, along with
Genevieve and Carrie, making it difficult for them to navigate toward the personal stage as
efficiently as some of their peers.
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An example of premature professionalization was the culture cultivated by faculty at
writing workshops. These interactions became microcosms of the highs and lows of what it takes
to succeed as a professional scholar: the challenges to write, publish, and research; engaging in
rigorous debates with faculty and peers; and overcoming inhibitions, including imposter
syndrome, to show that you belong. For Genevieve, Elizabeth, Carrie, Elena, and Sonya, faculty
embodied two roles in these settings—that of the gatekeeper of the discipline, most often by
junior faculty, or that of passive and remote expert, most often enacted by senior faculty who set
unreasonably high expectations for students without providing the clear training to get there.
Agents in this system thus acted counterproductively by enforcing unobtainable expectations
rather than scaffolding the process. “I think I would have appreciated it if professors understood
the PhD is more about learning than trying to rush things through,” said Sonya.
While agents imposed unrealistic expectations prematurely in the workshops, they
withheld professional training when it came to exposure to the culture around conferences and
national associations. Genevieve had reacted with puzzlement that she and her cohort mates were
being kept from presenting, let alone attending, the national conference in her discipline. This
advice contradicted practices from her master’s program at another institution, where students
had been encouraged to immerse themselves in professionalization experiences. Indeed, national
associations and conferences form part of the formal/informal stages of the graduate student
socialization framework. Daniel cited working groups sponsored by national associations as the
single most important factor in his development as a research scholar. And yet Daniel did not
learn of this valuable resource until late in his program. Furthermore, he was introduced to the
group by an outside faculty mentor rather than from a faculty member within his program or on
his dissertation committee.
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Contrasting professionalization practices left the students feeling intimidated, on the one
hand, or coddled on the other. Despite the best of intentions, junior faculty might misread the
readiness of PhD students to engage in the type of critical feedback expected in a workshop
setting. For example, Genevieve and Elizabeth saw the value of writing workshops in principle
but also felt junior faculty too often served as disrupters rather than facilitators. Indeed, based on
Bronfenbrenner’s instigative characteristics, junior scholars were not meeting students where
they were, so to speak, and were imposing standards of behavior that the students weren’t ready
for. Beneath the surface, the lack of purposeful guidance and facilitation in these environments
served to undermine rather than bolster these students. Do students have an opportunity to author
or co-author early in the program? Did they have a productive research assistantship early? How
did agents and their settings facilitate exposure to professional training? These and many other
questions went unanswered in various informal settings.
Recommendations
Recommendations for enhancing a culture of research support not only must address the
fundamental roles of mentorship, funding, and publishing support on the trajectories of first-
generation PhD students but should also acknowledge the ways in which such support is
implemented, monitored, and evaluated. Practitioners must do more than simply adopt support
programs but also focus on how programs are enacted (Kezar et al., 2022).
This study yielded five recommendations. First, agents that support PhD students need to
saturate their environments with information, including training, orientations, professional
development, and procedure manuals. This strategy is not limited to the anticipatory stage or to
students’ early immersion into the formal and informal stages but spans the entire socialization
process, from entering PhD student to emerging professional scholar. Second, office space and
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communal space for PhD students must be a priority for any university unit or department that
seeks to commit fully to the professional training of future scholars. Third, faculty and other
potential mentors, both formally and informally, must strive to be coaches, guides, and mentors
in a developmental process rather than mere gatekeepers of a discipline. Fourth, all agents
providing any professionalization or training related to publishing, writing, conference
presentations, or grant writing need to scaffold their programming. That is, support systems
should be adapted to the students’ level at any given moment, with enough flexibility built in to
acknowledge that students within any cohort year can still represent a range of mastery and skill
level. And fifth, all agents and units that serve PhD students, including faculty, must hold
themselves accountable through self-assessments, organizational reviews, and regular debrief
sessions that evaluate their effectiveness as agents operating in a complex environment.
These recommendations are broad enough to inform agents working in diverse and varied
settings that intersect with PhD students, including the challenges of supporting first-generation
students at PWIs. This target audience includes faculty (both junior and senior), dissertation
advisors, committee members, informal mentors, academic advisors, postdoctoral fellows,
administrators, grant officers, admissions officers, and other staff working in academic
departments, research centers and institutes, cultural centers, writing support centers, graduate
divisions, financial aid and grant offices, and architectural and space management offices. These
recommendations can also guide staff and affiliated scholars from national associations,
academic conferences, and journal and book publishers that serve academic fields and disciplines
in the social sciences.

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Recommendation 1. Saturate the Environment With Information
The first recommendation of this study is to saturate the agent’s environment with
information that addresses the needs of PhD students at all junctures in their program, including
entry, transition, coursework, dissertation phase, and transition to a professional identity. This
recommendation addresses the findings related to all themes of the study, but most especially the
themes on pathways to the PhD, navigating the start of the program, and funding. In these early
phases coinciding with the anticipatory stage of the graduate student socialization framework,
the participants expressed confusion and frustration navigating what they described as the hidden
curriculum. All participants also reported a loss of confidence during this period. Without
addressing and clarifying perceived gaps that first-generation students feel vis-à-vis their
continuing-generation peers, real disadvantages can set in, such as different outcomes in
obtaining grants, research assistantships, job interviews, and job offers (Acker & Hague, 2015;
Ardoin & Erb, 2022; Calarco, 2020; Twale et al., 2016). This recommendation will buffer the
interruption in graduate student socialization that is outlined in the first section of the discussion
on the findings.
Information is essential in ensuring a smooth transition into a PhD program. This
includes comprehensive data during the application and admission process, accessible
information on faculty specialties and publishing records, and transparency around course
requirements and expectations. One of the common denominators in interviews with all eight
participants was a lack of clarity around guidelines and expectations related to formal and
informal aspects of socialization, including mentorship, funding support, and publishing. One
example could be implementation of a summer bridge program prior to the start of the degree
program addressing methods training or a broad overview of formal and informal socialization.
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Such programs not only serve to disseminate important information but can also act as engines
for access, diversity, and inclusion (Rudolph et al., 2019). Other examples of information support
could include an outline of key socialization milestones covering all five years of the degree
program; robust orientation and professionalization programming; and an archive of resources on
essential activities such as external funding resources and panel deadlines for national
conferences. By devising such informational support in context to consideration of the needs of
first-generation PhD students and other underserved populations, agents would be demonstrating
a commitment to improving sociocultural climate issues as well (Twale et al., 2016).
This recommendation is not exclusive to agents operating in the academic department,
including faculty and staff, although the academic department is the primary facilitator for
ensuring a PhD student’s smooth transition from the anticipatory to the formal stage.
Dissemination of information on multiple platforms and formats (website, social media outreach,
emails, virtual town halls, information sessions, orientations, professional development
workshops) at the outset of a student’s entry into the program will also serve to prevent
subsequent dependency on the department, as described in the discussion of the findings. Thus,
an information strategy should include signposts and advice for students seeking to navigate to
other agents in their environments for critical support for future milestones, such as funding and
publishing support beyond the department. Comprehensive information on all resources offered
by the department, and clear indications of the department’s limitations and boundaries, can
further serve to move the students’ attention outward to other agents and units that presumably
will also be adopting a similar information-laden approach to their interaction with students’
progression through their development.

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Recommendation 2. Provide Common Space for PhD Students
Departments and affiliated units that support PhD students should provide common space
conducive to studying as well as social interaction among students at all levels in the graduate
program. This study showed that modest spaces equipped with tables, computers, and a
whiteboard had a tangible impact on social-emotional support among peers while also enhancing
their learning and their access to information and resources. This recommendation addresses the
finding outlined in the theme exploring students’ striving for research communities, including
the critical role played by common space in combatting the participants’ sense of isolation in the
program. A common space also serves to hasten the development of strong bonds among cohorts
as well as facilitating peer-to-peer mentorship among advanced and junior students. Both
students in peer-to-peer relational mentoring experience growth (Scott & Miller, 2017). Peers act
as “glue,” in the words of Scott and Miller (2017), by helping other students connect with other
faculty as well as basic practices of the profession and discipline.
Common space can also serve as a locus of cooperative strategies for planning
professional development programming distributed more equally among stakeholders, thereby
alleviating the burden experienced by students like Carrie and Elena, who took on such
leadership roles at an emotional cost consistent with the kind of invisible work typical among
women and scholars of color (Rodriguez et al., 2022). Also, common space can serve as a
launching pad for organic social activities and communal field trips, hikes, and dinners.
On a practical level, departments and programs might operate at full capacity where
space comes at a premium. Therefore, units should be incentivized to think creatively in a post-
pandemic world where telecommuting, hoteling, and hybrid schedules have become routine.
Sabbaticals among faculty provide further options for departments seeking to maximize
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underutilized spaces. Dedicating individual office spaces or open floor plans to groups of PhD
students can provide opportunities for integrating them more fully into the office environment,
further enhancing engagement opportunities among faculty, peers, postdoctoral fellows, and
staff. Broader integration into the intellectual community demonstrates prioritization of
connections in a culture, which helps first-generation students overcome perceived barriers
(Twale et al., 2016). Affiliated units can also sponsor and host PhD students who serve as
teaching assistants, research assistants, or predoctoral fellows, thereby establishing a mechanism
for distributing space at agreed upon milestones, so that, for example, all students have access to
space at least one year in their five-year degree program. Units can also allocate resources to
identify alternate spaces on campus, library conference rooms, or other shared spaces.
Recommendation 3. More “Neutral Champions,” Fewer Gatekeepers
The third recommendation is to foster expectations among faculty, both junior and senior,
for more complex roles of support that privilege practices such as ecological validation over
gatekeeping roles that can backfire for students with inhibiting instigative characteristics. Faculty
who are not made aware of the variations in expectations among first-generation PhD students
might inadvertently undermine a student’s progress (Wofford et al., 2021). Training and
feedback for faculty are essential when establishing new expectations for agents in various
settings. Among the consequences of a gatekeeping culture are drops in confidence,
marginalization, increased imposter syndrome, and emotional distress (Holden et al., 2021).
Together, these manifestations can impact access to important resources. Meanwhile, a more
supportive form of mentorship would include components of constructive criticism,
encouragement, modeling, collaboration, and cultivation of professional identity (Posselt, 2018).
Thus, such a holistic model of faculty support includes academic, psychosocial, and sociocultural
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dimensions (Posselt, 2018). Once again, by adopting such practices with attention to the needs of
first-generation students, faculty would be embracing flexible mentorship roles that can
introduce students to professional norms while also allowing the students to adhere to their
personal values and characteristics (Antony, 2002; Posselt, 2018). Intercultural competency is a
prerequisite for this form of mentorship (Elliott & Kobayashi, 2019; Urrieta Jr. et al., 2015).
This recommendation addresses two themes from the study. First, it offers an alternative
to the challenges pertaining to mentorship from the dissertation advisor. Elena referred to this
type of idealized mentor as a “neutral champion”—someone who she wished could have helped
her with publishing support. This is the “secondary advisor” that women and students of color
often seek for added support to compensate for ineffective mentorship from dissertation advisors
(Twale et al., 2016; Tynan & Garbett, 2007). Second, it addresses situations in which junior
faculty take on roles as gatekeepers of the discipline rather than enacting practices of ecological
validation and support. Thus, by realigning expectations for faculty, PhD students can receive the
type of mentorship that is most suitable to their development.
While there is a place for gatekeeping and enforcement in a department and other
settings, the participants in this study too often felt such enforcement came erratically and did not
bear in mind their needs at key junctures in their development. By adopting practices of
ecological validation, including both interpersonal and academic validation, faculty would be
adopting the best practices of those mentors who were most impactful to the eight participants in
this study.
Recommendation 4. Scaffold Professionalization and Training
A successful research career begins with training inside and outside of the classroom,
attending and presenting at conferences, and publishing in academic journals (Browning et al.,
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2014). Agents and units that organize professionalization and training such as writing workshops
or facilitate participation in conferences should scaffold these experiences. For example, writing
workshops should address the developmental stages of attendees, including training and support
for novices and consideration of drafts at various stages of development. Such settings can be
sites of both team-based learning as well as informal peer review; student-to-student support has
as much potential as faculty support in fostering and shaping the formation of the graduate
student’s identity as a professional (Rodriguez et al., 2022). Likewise, the culture surrounding
conferences and national associations, including attending, presenting, and discussing papers—
and engaging with thematic specialty groups in the discipline—can be scaffolded through
strategies for students at various stages in the program. As per findings on the benefits of
complexity, development is most effective when support spans multiple settings rather than
within a single setting, like a department (Kezar et al., 2022).
This recommendation addresses findings from the themes on navigating the start of the
program, mentorship, and publishing support. For example, a finding of the theme on navigating
the start of the program addressed unclear guidelines around socialization, one of which was a
mixed policy related to attending conferences. Passive mentorship as well as negative
experiences in writing workshops are among the experiences that stalled advancement toward a
professional identity.
Agents can create a tiered system for students seeking to integrate into the informal
culture around writing workshops. Feelings of self-efficacy for students can be improved by
practicing professional development skills and taking advantage of available resources (Houston,
2014). Beyond focusing on the presentation and critique of papers, time should be devoted to
demystifying the hidden curriculum around workshops. Furthermore, agents can provide
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structure to students after a workshop to revise papers and prepare them for publication. A
similar strategy can be employed for other aspects of professionalization, including the activities
surrounding national associations and conferences (Calarco, 2020; Nguyen & Yao, 2022).
Agents can introduce PhD students to the purpose of conferences and national/regional
associations and provide the scaffolding for students to begin attending; presenting; and taking
part in the culture of the association, including working groups. These practices provide the
backbone of a scholar’s career and often the pathway to co-authorship and a job.
Students should be introduced to the culture around national associations and conferences
systematically and in stages. In a student’s first year, for example, offer clear guidelines on all
national associations within the discipline and provide dates of national conferences, deadlines
for papers, costs for fees and travel, and a list of faculty and advanced graduate students who are
presenting. Offer preview events in the department or affiliated units and conduct debrief
sessions afterward. Emulate the structure of the discipline’s primary association by modeling
workshops and informal working groups on the thematic group structure at the national level and
invite external faculty to take part in lectures, workshops, and other networking events.
Recommendation 5. Hold Faculty, Staff, and Administrators Accountable
The last recommendation is to hold all faculty, staff, and administrators accountable as
agents in a complex environment. The traditional measures of success around outcomes for PhD
students—that is, from the vantage point of the system that produces degree holders—is on job
placement and publications. Success for mentors, such as dissertation advisors, also privileges
job placement and publications as well as impact vis-à-vis co-authorship. However, such metrics
will not necessarily capture the anecdotal evidence of students like Elena and Genevieve, who
talked about the trauma of mentor-mentee relationships around co-authorship. By reframing the
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purpose of engagement, allies of first-generation PhD students can assert the importance of
informal socialization in the development of graduate students. The development of researchers
is less about teaching them how to do research, but rather about showing aspiring scholars how
to build a track record for their research, including participation in writing workshops and
developing a systematic career plan separate from the components that form a dissertation
(Browning et al., 2014).
By embedding practices into routine processes, staff can ensure continuity regardless of
turnover while also expanding the inclusivity of students into a community of researchers (Brew
et al., 2017). Therefore, integration of equity benchmarks vis-à-vis support for PhD students can
be added to other criteria used for assessing staff support for all stakeholders. And faculty
leadership can be evaluated by their responsiveness to PhD students’ needs in both formal and
informal contexts.
This recommendation addresses all themes in the study, which span experiences in
multiple settings where first-generation PhD students felt underserved by agents in various
systems. Holding agents accountable for their responsiveness in settings of formal and informal
socialization is necessary to ensure progress. Currently, methods for assessing faculty focus
primarily on research productivity, and secondarily on teaching or service. Co-authorship with
PhD students, as well as job placement of dissertation advisees, contribute indirectly to the
reputation of faculty serving in supervisorial roles for PhD students. However, accountability
measures for both senior and junior faculty vis-à-vis mentorship are largely left in the hands of
graduate students who pass on such information anecdotally.
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Limitations and Delimitations
This study faced two limitations. Limitations are factors that are beyond the control of the
researcher (Creswell, 2014).
The first limitation pertained to sample size. I sought to interview first-generation PhD
alumni who completed the degree in a social science field between 2018 and 2023. Due to the
relatively low number of students/alumni who fit this criteria at my designated university setting,
I struggled to identify enough participants to achieve saturation. First-generation status is not a
designation that is readily identifiable transparently within publicly available records. While I
devised a comprehensive strategy to identify possible participants across multiple departments,
my outreach did not yield many subjects. While I felt my sample size of eight did allow me to
achieve saturation in terms of my goal of documenting experiences around research support, I
acknowledge I lacked diversity of race and ethnicity, since I did not include any Black
participants. I should note that through direct outreach, I communicated with multiple Black and
Latinx alumni who divulged that they did not fit the criteria of first-generation status. In
retrospect, I could have expanded my criteria to underrepresented students and not just first-
generation students. These factors should be considered when assessing the generalizability of
this study.
A second limitation is related to the location of this study—an elite, private,
predominantly White R1 university. First-generation PhD students will find fewer potential role
models who have similar intersections of first-generation status, gender, race, ethnicity, or socio-
economic status. As of 2020, 76.4% of tenured faculty at U.S. universities were White (Wapman
et al., 2022). Therefore, this setting was a limitation in terms of the variety of potential
mentorship experiences for PhD students as compared to a similar study conducted in a less
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selective university setting where faculty might be more diverse. Likewise there are fewer first-
generation students in selective universities (Startz, 2022). The low percentage of first-
generation PhD students in a setting that is more competitive than it might be in other public or
less research-intensive settings will add to the factors related to explorations of support and
community. I attempted to anticipate such concerns by adopting thick description in my
reporting of the findings.
The population and location also comprised my delimitations for this study. Delimitations
represent the ways my role as a researcher impacted the parameters of the study (Creswell,
2014). Thus, while the overall population of potential first-generation PhD graduates was beyond
my control, as noted in the discussion of limitations, I did introduce several parameters in my
eventual criteria that show my sample as a delimitation as well, which I identify here as my
inclusion/exclusion criteria. For example, to meet the criteria as a participant in my study, the
person not only had to be a first-generation PhD alumnus from a social science field in the past
five years, but furthermore, I ruled out including other types of participants that could have
informed the study. By focusing only on first-person experiences, I ruled out speaking to anyone
who might have observed these students, such as faculty or staff. I also ruled out speaking with
continuing-generation students as a point of comparison, which no doubt would have yielded
valuable data, but I adhered to my strict criteria in order to maintain a manageable dataset within
the time period allotted for this project.
Likewise, the location of this study doubles as a delimitation as well in that in the process
of selecting this site, I made choices ruling out other options that could have diversified and
enriched the data in different ways. For example, I could have chosen a second or third site as
points of comparison or a range and added those dimensions to my data findings.
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A third delimitation was the scope of my focus in terms of the general description of
research support. By leaving this criteria open-ended, I was choosing to welcome broad reactions
to support in general as opposed to exploring narrow dimensions of research support in two or
three clearly defined categories such as particular types of funding or publishing support. One
may argue that breadth carries different value than depth. In choosing subjective, qualitative data
over quantitative measures, I was setting boundaries on the type of study I would be producing.
Such an approach should be considered when assessing the potential generalizability of this
study.
Recommendations for Future Research
This study has several implications for future research based on setting, population, and
type of intervention. For example, in terms of setting, future studies can adopt this study’s
conceptual framework, findings, and recommendations to assess the effectiveness of any
academic department in meeting the needs of first-generation PhD students vis-à-vis areas of
informal socialization support such as external funding, publishing, and mentorship.
Given this study’s attempt to acknowledge the absence in the social sciences of an
equivalent mechanism to the lab setting in the physical sciences, it is recommended that any
research center or institute that supports PhD students directly or indirectly consider how well
they are meeting the needs of first-generation PhD students across various stages or
environments in their development.
This study also identified possible areas of future focus within the population of first-
generation PhD students, including women and international students. International students, for
example, faced distinct challenges obtaining funding support, one of the critical zones of
engagement in a scholar’s development. In the modest sample size from this study, women
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students of color voiced similar concerns in their interactions with faculty, who were often White
and male, thereby distinguishing this as an area for further investigation.
More research can be done on the shifting perceptions of what comprises the hidden
curriculum for first-generation PhD students. The participants in this study frequently used the
term “hidden curriculum,” thereby exhibiting some awareness that something might be lacking
in their exposure to socialization. A study on how the perception of a hidden curriculum evolves
from undergraduate to graduate programs can provide insights into how students leveraging their
own agency in seeking out more information.
Arising from this level of inquiry could be a further exploration of the differences
between first-generation undergraduates and PhD students around issues of funding and financial
considerations. For example, as undergraduates, students often have a clear perception of
resources, tuition, funding, debt, and loans. However, the nature of stipends and fellowships, and
even the concept of “fully funded graduate programs,” introduces levels of ambiguity and
confusion that can leave some PhD students more vulnerable financially than they may have
been as undergraduates. The participants in this study demonstrated how much work needs to be
done to change the culture around funding, grants, and any additional stipends and scholarships
that are required to succeed in a PhD program.
The small sample size regrettably did not yield diversity among underrepresented
students, including Black students. Therefore, by expanding the selection to underrepresented
students and not just first-generation students, the goal of diversifying faculty could still be
achieved.
Complexity was an essential feature of this study; by that, consideration of multiple areas
of support simultaneously. Thus, it is recommended that other scholars find ways to deepen
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explorations of multiple forces on a first-generation PhD student’s progression rather than simply
isolating any one area such as publishing or funding support alone. In the process, a broader
quantitative study could identify metrics for a survey of current and former first-generation PhD
students in various higher-education settings, including private, public, elite, Hispanic-serving,
predominantly White institutions, and so on. A span of various social science disciplines could
also deepen criteria for identifying variations within the social sciences.
Also, with this same framework, future researchers could collect qualitative data from
various subsets of participants to add further perspectives and dimensions to these findings, such
as perspectives of staff, administrators, senior faculty, and/or junior faculty who serve first-
generation PhD students; first-generation postdoctoral fellows; and former first-generation PhD
students who did not complete the degree. Furthermore, given the priority of diversifying today
and tomorrow’s faculty, an in-depth study of current first-generation faculty at R1 universities
could trace the factors that were most impactful to their success.
Conclusion
This study yielded findings that identified four broad patterns that have implications for
practitioners who support first-generation PhD students, including faculty, administrators, and
staff throughout university settings. Socialization is a process not simply focused on student
agency but also on the responsiveness of agents in the environments that can either help or
hinder student development. Fortunately, this study also identified five recommendations that
can improve future experiences of current first-generation college graduates pondering a
transition into PhD degree programs in the social sciences.
Building complexity in a supportive research community should not be left to chance;
rather, it should be the outcome of students and agents working symbiotically in various
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environments conducive to development. Although several participants eventually constructed
complex research communities—such as Genevieve’s second writing workshop group, Daniel’s
discovery of a national working group through the mentorship of a faculty member outside his
home university, and Richard’s co-authorship opportunities arising from his own international
network of like-minded interdisciplinary scholars—other participants were left wanting,
including Elena and Carrie, who each felt they finished the degree without developing a full
understanding of the publishing process.
In sharing stories of their experiences in PhD programs, these eight participants echoed
one another in a chorus of wishes: I wish I had become a research assistant sooner. I wish I
didn’t have to take time away from my own work to plan professional development workshops. I
wish I knew more about what research entailed. I wish my advisors did more for me. I wish they
told me everything would be OK. I wish my background doing qualitative research mattered. I
wish my years of prior work experience was valued. I wish I had a neutral champion.
While much of these pages focused on the voices of these former graduate students, this
study is essentially about the practitioners who are in positions to welcome incoming PhD
students and assist them at each stage of development, no matter the environment, and within
each zone of engagement. Through personal reflection and collective strategy, practitioners who
engage with PhD students on a regular basis can use the findings and recommendations of this
study to ensure they are attuned to the needs of first-generation PhD students however those
needs are being expressed.

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Appendix A: Information Sheet for Exempt Research
STUDY TITLE: Enhancing a Culture of Research Support for First-Generation PhD Students in
Social Science Fields

PRINCIPAL INVESTIGATOR: Matthew Stevens

You are invited to participate in a research study. Your participation is voluntary. This document
explains information about this study. You should ask questions about anything that is unclear to
you.

PURPOSE
The purpose of this study is to understand the factors that support and hinder the socialization of
first-generation PhD students as it relates to their access to essential resources supporting their
development as researchers, including membership in a formal or informal research community.

The PI hopes to learn how to improve outcomes for first-generation PhD students in social
science fields to ensure increased diversity among faculty in these fields. This study will help
first-generation graduate students as well as practitioners who support PhD students.

You are invited as a possible participant because you are a first-generation PhD alumnus of a
social science field at Golden State University (graduating between 2018–22) or a PhD candidate
expected to finish in spring 2023 and have insights on your experiences pursuing and receiving
research support.

PARTICIPANT INVOLVEMENT
If you decide to take part, you will be asked to participate in (a) a 15-minute Qualtrics survey on
your experiences obtaining research support in graduate school. At the end of the survey, you
will be asked if you would make yourself available to (b) participate in an interview of
approximately one hour addressing five areas related to your experience with research support in
graduate school, including expectations, knowledge, community, experiences & interactions, and
relationships.
The questions in both the survey and interview focus broadly on the experiences of PhD students
during graduate school and their relationships with other stakeholders in their pursuit of research
support, including relationships with peers, faculty, and staff.

If you choose to participate in the interview, your survey responses will be linked to your
interview responses in forming your contribution to the study.
CONFIDENTIALITY
The PI and the Golden State University Institutional Review Board (IRB) may access the data.
The IRB reviews and monitors research studies to protect the rights and welfare of research
subjects.
186

The PI will record the interviews and request permission to record prior to the beginning of the
interview while also ensuring that all testimony will be anonymized to preserve your
confidentiality. You will have the option to end the interview at any time.

The PI will share the transcript with you to give you an opportunity to correct or clarify any
passages.

The PI will follow Golden State University guidelines in saving and archiving files with
password protection and will save the file for three years, under password protection via a
password-protected computer and account.

Findings will be shared in the PI’s dissertation and reviewed by the PI’s dissertation committee.

Interview subjects will be entered in a raffle for one of two $100 gift cards.

INVESTIGATOR CONTACT INFORMATION
If you have any questions about this study, please contact Matthew Stevens, xxxxxxxxxxxx,
(626) 808-7064.

IRB CONTACT INFORMATION
If you have any questions about your rights as a research participant, please contact the Golden
Stare University Institutional Review Board at (323) 442-0114 or email xxxxxx.

187

Appendix B: Message to Departmental Staff
Seeking Assistance Identifying Prospective Participants

Dear staff member of the [DEPT. NAME] department,
I’m a graduate student in the EdD program in Educational Leadership at the USC Rossier School
of Education in the process of conducting a study titled “Enhancing a Culture of Research
Support for First-Generation PhD Students in Social Science Fields.”
My project focuses on support strategies for first-generation PhD students. Specifically, I
am seeking to interview first-gen alumni about their experiences as PhD students obtaining
essential resources of research support such as research funding, research assistantships,
participation in writing workshops, professional development, exposure to publishing
opportunities, and networking within and beyond the student’s home university. Secondly, I am
seeking to document how their perception of their membership in a research community
contributed to their development as scholars.
In order to identify a small pool of potential interview subjects, I am seeking to send a
brief screening form to alumni from several social science departments, including your field of
[INSERT DEPT. NAME]. Would it be possible to forward the following message and link to
alumni from you program who completed the PhD program between 2018 and spring 2023?
I would be happy to clarify any questions you might have before you send the form. Thank you
for your consideration and assistance.
Thank you.

188

Appendix C: Message to Alumni that Program Staff Will Send Out Via Email

Subject Line: Seeking to survey and interview first-gen PhD alumni about their experiences with
research support in graduate school

Are you a first-generation alumnus who earned your PhD in a social science field at Golden State
University?
I’m a graduate student in the EdD program in Educational Leadership at the USC Rossier
School of Education in the process of conducting a study titled “Enhancing a Culture of
Research Support for First-Generation PhD Students in Social Science Fields.”
I am seeking to survey and interview first-gen PhD alumni about their experiences
obtaining essential resources of research support such as research funding, research
assistantships, or professional development and training.
I am also exploring how your perceptions of your membership in a research community
helped in your development as a scholar. For example, how did the strengths of relationships
within your department, cohort, a research center, or national organization enhance your
development as a researcher?
While there is a growing literature on the challenges faced by PhD students in STEM
(science, engineering, technology, math) fields, few studies address the experiences of doctoral
students in the social sciences.
In addition to collecting a brief survey on your experiences with research support in
graduate school, I am also requesting your availability for a one-hour Zoom interview. If
interested, please fill out the contact information at the bottom of the survey form, and I will
189

follow up with possible dates and times for a meeting. All your comments in the interview will
be confidential. I would also be happy to answer any questions you might have before you
commit to the interview.
Thank you for your time and consideration.

190

Appendix D: Messages to Alumni Who Have Responded to Screening Survey

Follow-up message to alumni seeking more information before committing:

Dear [NAME],
Thank you for completing my survey form for my project titled “Enhancing a Culture of
Research Support for First-Generation PhD Students in Social Science Fields.”
I would be happy to address your concern about [RE-STATE CONCERN]. Would you be
available for a phone call.….?

Follow-up message to prospective interview subjects who completed the initial survey form
(PhD alumni):

Dear [NAME],
Thank you for completing my survey form seeking to identify prospective interview subjects for
my study titled “Enhancing a Culture of Research Support for First-Generation PhD Students in
Social Science Fields.”
I’m writing to propose the following times based on the availability you provided in your
answers.
[INSERT PROPOSED OPTIONS]
Please let me know your preference and I will follow with an appointment invitation and
a Zoom link.
191

As mentioned, the interview will last approximately one hour, and all your comments
will be confidential. I will follow a semi-structured interview protocol in which I will ask you
about your research experiences in graduate school and how membership in a research
community might have impacted your development as a scholar.
Please understand that you will be free to stop the interview at any time or choose to skip
any questions. I will also share the notes from the meeting to confirm that I have captured your
responses accurately.
Thank you and I look forward to speaking with you.

Follow-up message to any remaining alumni who completed my initial survey form and
indicated a willingness to be interviewed who I do not need to interview, thanking them
again for their participation:

Dear [NAME],
Thank you for completing my form seeking to identify prospective interview subjects for my
study titled “Enhancing a Culture of Research Support for First-Generation PhD Students in
Social Science Fields.”
Although I appreciate your willingness to be interviewed, I have been able to identify a
full pool of interview subjects without needing any further interviews.
Again, I am grateful for your time.

192

Appendix E: Screening Survey
Thank you for providing your feedback based on your experiences as a first-generation PhD
student in a social science field.

Q1. I was a first-generation* college graduate (i.e., undergraduate degree).
• Yes
• No
*First-generation college graduates are individuals whose parents have not completed the
bachelor’s degree.
If the answer is no, the survey will end.

Q2. I am a PhD graduate in the following social science field:
• Anthropology
• Economics
• Political Science
• Sociology
• Other

Q3. Year of PhD degree (select one of the following):
• 2018
• 2019
• 2020
• 2021
193

• 2022
• 2023 (expected)
• None of the above
If “none of the above,” the survey will end.

For each of the following experiences, please check the column that best indicates the influence
of various individuals or groups on each activity as minimal, moderate, significant or N/A (not
applicable).
• My department
• Another department
• My advisor/dissertation chair
• Faculty other than my advisor/dissertation chair
• My cohort/peers
• A writing group
• A research center or institute
• University or college initiative
• A national organization
• Other

Q4. Obtaining a research assistantship
Q5. Succeeding as a research assistant

194

Q6. Obtaining research funding (i.e., funding specifically for research needs – travel to
archive, data purchases, etc.)
Q7. Attending academic conferences
Q8. Participating in writing workshops with faculty and/or peers
Q9. Presenting a paper at a regional or national conference prominent in my field
Q10. Submitting an article or articles in an academic journal prior to completing my PhD
degree
Q11. Publishing an article or articles in an academic journal prior to completing my PhD
degree
Q12. Networking with faculty or PhD students outside your university
Q13. Mentoring undergraduates
Q14. Experiencing the support of a research community
Q15. Please indicate which activities/resources/programming you experienced through
interactions at a research center or institute (check all that apply):
• Received research funding (ie, funding specifically for research needs – travel to archive,
data purchases, etc.)
• Received funding for research assistantship
• Attended lectures or conferences
• Attended professional development events
• Attended writing workshops
• Received assistance with the publishing process
• Networked with visiting faculty
• Received funding to attend national conferences
195

• Co-authored articles with faculty or postdocs affiliated with center
• Did not interact with a research center or institute

Q16. Please indicate the first position you obtained after graduate school:
• Postdoctoral fellowship
• Faculty position (tenure-track)
• Faculty position (non-tenure-track)
• Non-faculty position in higher education setting
• Nonacademic position

Q17. Please indicate your current position:
• Still in my first position after graduate school
• Postdoctoral fellowship
• Faculty position (tenure-track)
• Faculty position (non-tenure-track)
• Non-faculty position in higher education setting
• Nonacademic position

Q18. Please indicate which of the following best characterized your professional goals and
options at the end of your graduate program:
• My primary goal was to seek interviews and offers for either a postdoctoral fellowship or
faculty position.
• My primary goal was to seek a non-academic position.
196

• I did not find success pursuing interviews or offers for an academic position so instead
pursued a nonacademic position.

Q19. Are you willing to be interviewed for this study?
• Yes, I am providing my contact information and availability below.
• Maybe, but I would like more information and am providing my question and contact
information on next screen.
• No, other than completing this form, I do not wish participate any further.

Q22. If you answered yes, please provide your name, email address and availability for a
Zoom interview.
• Name:
• Email address:
• Preferred week(s) for a one-hour Zoom appointment (please provide multiple options if
appropriate). Available weeks:
• Available times (please provide multiple options if appropriate):

Q23. If you answered maybe, please provide a brief question or concern along with a phone
number or email address.

If you answered no, thank you for participating in this survey. Other than the information above,
this form has not captured any identifying information such as name, email address, or IP
address.
197

If you answered yes or maybe, thank you for your participation and for indicating your interest
or possible interest in being interviewed. You will be contacted shortly.

Please note your identity will be kept confidential and that the interview will be conducted on
Zoom and last approximately one hour.

For all respondents, please use this space to share any further questions, comments. or concerns.

198

Appendix F: Interview Protocol

At the beginning of the interview, I will read the following statement:
Thank you for agreeing to speak with me today. If it is OK with you, I would like to audio
and video record our conversation to document your answers as accurately as possible, but I
want to assure you that your comments will be confidential.
My goal for this study is to explore your experiences as a first-generation PhD student,
particularly related to your efforts seeking and obtaining research support through experiences
and resources such as research funding, research assistantships, participation in writing
workshops, professional development, exposure to publishing opportunities, and networking
within and beyond the student’s home university. Secondly, I am seeking to document how your
perception of membership in a research community contributed to your development as a
scholar.
I welcome your candor; I understand that my questions might lead you to share concerns
or criticisms of individuals or units at the university. You will also have the option to not answer
any questions or to stop the interview if you wish.

Background
1. What did you know about research prior to graduate school?
2. Why did you enter a PhD program?

199

Expectations
3. What were your greatest concerns or challenges as a first-generation student when you began
your graduate program?
• What excited you?
• What assets did you feel you were bringing?

Knowledge
4. How did you learn about the expectations and norms of (a) graduate school; and (b) the
profession of research scholar/faculty member?
5. Please describe your perceptions of your access to and/or awareness of essential resources*
throughout your graduate studies.
• *Resources such as research funding, professional development, research assistantships,
knowledge of publishing, how to manage relationships with faculty, etc.

6. Please describe the types of support you sought and/or received from individuals or
organizations beyond what your academic department* provided.
• *I’m referring to the home department of the student – such as Economics Department,
Sociology Department, etc.

7. How important was it to have resources (supporting research) outside the department?

200

Community
8. How do you define research community?
9. As a first-generation PhD student, what was your sense of the value and/or access to a
research community?
10. How did your experiences with a research community play a factor in your development as a
researcher?

Experiences and Interactions
11. Please describe how individuals/organizations/units* facilitated or hindered your access to
one or more of the following resources/experiences:
• Research assistantship
• Funding for research (for example, funding specifically for research needs – travel to
archive, data purchases, etc.)
• Attending academic conferences
• Participating in writing workshops/groups with faculty and/or peers
• Presenting a paper at a national or regional conference
• Submitting and/or publishing article(s) in an academic journal prior to completing your
degree
• Networking with external scholars or external PhD students
• Mentoring undergraduates

12. Can you describe some of the factors that led to the greatest support and greatest challenges?

201

*Examples of individuals/organizations/units include:
• Your academic department
• Another academic department
• Advisor/dissertation chair
• Faculty other than advisor/dissertation chair
• Cohort/peers
• A writing group
• A research center or institute
• University or college initiative
• A national organization
• Other

13. How do you feel your identity as a first-generation PhD student played a role in any of these
experiences?

Relationships
14. What is your idea of mentorship?
• How does your definition correspond to your identity as a first-generation PhD student?

15. How did peer support help in your development as a researcher and scholar?

202

16. Looking back, what would have been most helpful to your (a) development as a research
scholar; and (b) your formal or informal membership in a research community?

Closing
Thank you. I appreciate your candor. I know some of these memories and reflections
might have reminded you of difficulties you have faced, and I’m grateful to you for sharing them
with me.

Abstract (if available)

Abstract Without support at critical stages of their development as scholars, first-generation PhD students face greater challenges than their continuing-generation peers with research, writing, and publishing, as well as securing tenure-track positions at R1 universities. As eight first-generation PhD graduates in social science fields reported in this qualitative study, variations in graduate student socialization impact research support, including quality of mentorship, access to funding, and effectiveness of guidance around publishing. Through a conceptual framework that incorporates components of the graduate student socialization framework (Twale et al., 2016; Weidman et al., 2001; Weidman & DeAngelo, 2020) and the ecological systems theory (Bronfenbrenner, 1979, 1993, 2005), this study found that first-generation PhD students received inadequate support at key stages in their development, including entry into graduate school and during their last two years before completing the degree. By adopting new strategies for mentorship and professionalization, among other recommendations, practitioners can enhance a culture of support for first-generation PhD students. While there is growing literature on the challenges faced by PhD students in STEM fields, few studies address disparities among PhD students and graduates in the social sciences. A greater commitment to equity and opportunity for first-generation PhD students can lead to increased diversity among faculty in social science fields.

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Asset Metadata

Creator Stevens, Matthew C. (author)

Core Title Enhancing a culture of research support for first-generation PhD students in social science fields

School Rossier School of Education

Degree Doctor of Education

Degree Program Educational Leadership

Degree Conferral Date 2023-08

Publication Date 07/19/2023

Defense Date 07/10/2023

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag doctoral education,first-generation graduate students,graduate education,graduate student socialization,OAI-PMH Harvest,research training,socialization

Format theses (aat)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Canny, Eric (committee chair), Kim, Esther (committee member), Tobey, Patricia (committee member)

Creator Email mattcs_2000@yahoo.com,stev009@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-oUC113282109

Unique identifier UC113282109

Identifier etd-StevensMat-12118.pdf (filename)

Legacy Identifier etd-StevensMat-12118

Document Type Dissertation

Format theses (aat)

Rights Stevens, Matthew C.

Internet Media Type application/pdf

Type texts

Source 20230721-usctheses-batch-1071 (batch), University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

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Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA

Repository Email cisadmin@lib.usc.edu