Meaghan Castledine (@mcastledine96) is a 3rd year PhD student based in CLES at the University of Exeter, Penryn campus. Her research, funded by the Medical Research Council, explores the evolution of microbial interactions in community ecology and medicine. She has studied here since an undergraduate in 2015 and has settled into Cornish life. She loves taekwondo, reading and, most importantly, dogs.

“I’m really sorry to bother you…”

“I know you’re really busy but…”

“Please can you help…”

“Help…”

Developing an academic support network is hard and made harder in a time when knocking on someone’s door or hovering by someone’s desk is no longer a possibility. Offices that once facilitated support are now quiet ghostly places. The casual support groups we formed over cups of coffee have become strained by dedicated online calls. Especially for new students, asking for help has become significantly harder: who do you ask? Who has the time, or willingness, to share their skills?

I’ve been incredibly lucky, and remain grateful to, a number of mentors who took me under their wings at each stage of my academic learning curve. These were mentors who were not assigned to me by the university, but rather people who personally volunteered to share their skills and knowledge with me.

At undergrad, two postgraduate students taught me how to write essays, develop ideas and work in a laboratory. At PhD, a post-doc – Dr Daniel Padfield – has taught me how to code and analyse my data. Although the foundations for each of these skills were laid in my degree training, these mentors helped me refine my skills and gave me more confidence than any course or module could.

Since the pandemic started, translating such social interactions to an online setting has stunted the development of these casual support networks. To address this, we may, as a research community, need to advertise our skills more explicitly among our peers.

A recent initiative by Dr Daniel Padfield is an exemplar of how support networks may be set up in the current climate. As a coding and statistics expert, Dan is a “go-to” for those who need extra help. To make himself more accessible to students who may be too shy to privately approach him, Dan set up weekly help sessions in the medical school where students can drop in. These, in effect, replace the casual office atmosphere where people would drop by Dan’s desk to ask for help.

Opening up such sessions need not be a place where individuals have their work done for them. Instead, staff and students can learn how to overcome hurdles and barriers to their learning. Sometimes those barriers come from self-confidence and having a supportive peer can help them overcome that block. Personally, I now tutor undergraduates in statistics; helping students work-through their problems and relaying my own past struggles has helped some students drop the adage that they are simply “useless” at statistics.

Sign up to be a mentor/tutor, check in on your peers, set up a dop-in session. Sharing skills and knowledge is at the centre of what it means to be a researcher. If we are to encourage the next generation of scientists then we need to develop support networks between all levels of academia: from undergrad to masters and PhD, post-doc and beyond.

Rev Nicolle Sturdevant is a PhD Candidate with the College of Humanities, Penryn researching shared sacred landscapes in Scotland and Wales. She is supervised and supported by Prof Joanne Parker and Prof Philip Schwyzer. She lives in Scotland with my husband, two children, mum, two dogs and four cats. She is also the Honorary Pagan Chaplain at University of Aberdeen. 

In 2018 I began my PhD at Exeter to explore sites that have ancient sacredness along with active Christian architecture. The purpose was to see how those who actively engaged with these sites such as members of the churches, the spiritual community and tourists viewed this shared landscape. I had already planned out how I would conduct my research. Everything was structured, logical and organised down to the last detail. Fieldwork was to begin in October 2019 and run for a year. This would include focus groups, interviews, surveys at sites.  All of this was approved and encouraged by my supervisors. I was excited to get started!

Then I made a small, ever-so-slight change. My supervisors and I realised that I would collect the majority of my data within a six-month window so it was logical to shorten my time frame. It would save on travel and money, plus I could focus on the fieldwork and analysing data exclusively instead of writing my other chapters at the same time. I had already completed the initial prep work so this was a very minor change. Again logical, purposeful and Plan B.

All of that changed in March 2020. I received an email from the ethics committee that all fieldwork was stopped due to COVID-19 and could only be conducted online via Teams or Skype. Not only was my logical order in chaos, but my fieldwork was in danger of not taking place at all. With the agreement of my supervisors, I decided to remove the survey portion of my research as that relied on tourism, and put off my focus groups until we had further guidance from the government. So this was now… Plan C. The hope here was that I would be able to conduct the fieldwork in Winter 2020 and/or Spring 2021. Then of course, that changed again with extended lockdown at the beginning of 2021.

So now I am on to Plan D. I have conducted several interviews and another practice focus-group utilising Teams, which seem to work. None of this is ideal as the human connection is being missed. Instead of tea and biscuits together I am confirming they have received/read/sent the forms via email and can connect to Teams. For participants that do not have internet, they are being interviewed individually, in addition to the ones that were to be interviewed from the very beginning.

On top of all of this, archival research has been restricted. My original submission date of September 2021 has been pushed back to February 2022. I know I will finish my thesis, however all of these continued changes have caused anxiety over when. As a parent, spouse, chaplain and tutor for secondary school students, the pandemic was already affecting my daily life. This now felt like one more roadblock in my research yet my supervisors have been supportive the whole time. Plus, the PGR Writing Group has been instrumental in keeping me ‘sane’ during all of this. It is one thing to be told you are not alone, but to know this is invaluable. The takeaway here is find your support network and if this research is something you really want to do, they will help you find a way.

Gertjan obtained his doctoral degree in Middle East Politics at the University of Exeter in March this year, after successfully passing his Viva in one of the first examinations that entirely took place digitally because of the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic. Throughout the first three years of his Doctoral studies, Gertjan was a beneficiary of a studentship of the Centre of Gulf Studies at the University of Exeter. He is currently residing in the Netherlands, where he is a lecturer in the Middle East Department at the University of Groningen. Previously, Gertjan taught at Durham University as a Teaching Fellow in Middle East Politics and at the University of Exeter as a Post-Graduate Teaching Assistant. In 2011, Gertjan earned his M.A in Gulf Studies from the University of Exeter,  while two years earlier he earned a M.Sc. in Political Science from the University of Amsterdam.

Following the submission of my PhD thesis, the day of my Viva had been set on the 27^th of March. I was very excited about it, as my supervisor Professor Marc Valeri had assembled an excellent examination panel and I was looking forward to return to Exeter to defend my PhD in front of them.  However, things would go differently as originally envisioned. Following the announcement of the closure of the universities in the country I am currently residing, the Netherlands, I decided to contact my supervisor to discuss the opportunity for an online Viva. Soon it became clear in the following week that an online Viva was the only viable option.  Thankfully, the examiners and the chair agreed to this.

As the examination policy had to be revised by the Doctoral College to make a virtual Viva possible it took a bit time before we received the green light. But thanks to the determination and very hard work of my supervisor and Natalie Bartram of the Post-Graduate Research Administration Office the Viva could eventually take place on the original date. In advance Natalie kindly provided me with all the necessary information about how to set up my laptop by attaching it to the modem through an Internet cable (going back to the old days) and instructed me how to test that the Internet connection at home was suitable for the online Viva.

On the day itself it felt very weird to prepare for the Viva in my own house knowing that such a big day in my academic life would take place. When it was time to log into Skype, I sat in a messy office/storage room behind my laptop, hoping the examiners would not  anticipate the presence of a professional bookcase in the background. Thankfully, the chair and examiners did a very good at putting me at ease, while to my great relief the connection was fine and everybody could hear and see each other well.

The Viva itself was challenging but at the same time an unique opportunity to gain feedback on my work. When I was asked to leave our Skype conversation I had mixed feelings about my own performance, but was very pleased about the excellent feedback I had received on my PhD from the examiners. After the official examination, the (psychologically) long wait started until I received after approximately 15 minutes a Skype call through which I could return to the Viva. To my big delight the chair and examiners congratulated me and announced their decision that I had passed the Viva without corrections.

The moment after passing the Viva was surreal, celebrating it in my own living room. Thankfully my parents were able to join me quickly in my celebrations and we opened the usual bottle of champagne to rejoice. I missed my friends and all the wonderful persons at the Institute of Arab and Islamic Institute who had supported me throughout the years of PhD, but thanks to the technology I could video call them to tell them the good news.

Although the experience of a virtual Viva was slightly odd and not what I had envisioned when I started my PhD, I am very pleased that I opted for it in order to avoid further delay to the completion of my doctoral degree. Because of this, I am very grateful to have been granted this opportunity thanks to the support of my supervisor, the Doctoral College and the members of my examination committee.

Written by: Gertjan Hoetjes

Richard was recently awarded a PhD by Publication in Biological Sciences by the University of Exeter. His thesis on the role of citizen science in assessing biodiversity trends for British butterflies and moths was supervised by Dr Ilya Maclean from the Environment and Sustainability Institute at Penryn and Dr Rob Wilson (formerly in the Biosciences Dept on the Streatham campus). He was one of the first Exeter students to have an online PhD viva examination.

When I handed in my thesis on 14^th February, coronavirus still seemed a remote and unlikely threat to the normality of life in Devon and Cornwall. I’d done the hard part, my papers were published, my extended introduction was written and now it was just the final, nerve-wracking hurdle of the viva to endure (or enjoy as I kept being told by everyone I asked for advice). My examiners had been appointed (two external and one internal for a PhD by Publication) and the date had been set in late April. All that was left to do was to read and re-read my thesis and brush up on some of the key papers that I’d cited. I’d even attended a University workshop entitled Preparing for your Viva, which was excellent and I would thoroughly recommend everyone to attend.

And then, of course, the lockdown happened. Initially, the viva was pushed from the front of my mind by concerns about family and friends getting ill, dealing with school closures for my teenage children and adapting to changes in my job (I work full time for the charity Butterfly Conservation). However, before long I began to think about the viva again. Now though, my main worry wasn’t about being asked tricky questions about the statistical techniques I’d used in Chapter 3, but about the viva being postponed indefinitely into the post-pandemic world.

It was a great relief, therefore, to be contacted first by my supervisor and then by the University PGR admin team and offered the option to have a virtual viva. The speed with which the University moved to get new policies in place to allow online viva examinations was fantastic. With the addition of another person, a Non-Examining Independent Chair, to the panel, the stage was set.

I did have a few additional worries – would I be able to join the meeting OK at the appointed time without having a frantic scramble to reboot the software as the minutes ticked by? – but I would have had alternative worries for a face-to-face viva (car breaking down, forgetting to put trousers on etc. – oh no that was just a bad dream!). So, I had a few practice runs to make sure I was completely familiar with the software and hoped for the best.

Three and a half hours later and it was all over. The technology worked smoothly and without a hitch, there was no off-putting time lag and the examiners were really well organised enabling the conversation to flow easily without the awkward pauses and speaking over each other that is a feature of some online meetings. It was thorough and challenging, but yes it was enjoyable. Top tip for a question to expect and prepare for (neither of which I had done!) – which of your chapters is the strongest and which the weakest and why?

My supervisors had joined the meeting at the start to greet the examiners and then came back online at the end to help with the celebrations, which was a really nice touch. Having never done a face-to-face viva, I can’t make a true comparison, but I don’t think that the online viva was any more difficult an ordeal than a traditional one. Indeed, without the stress of travel and the formality of being in an unfamiliar room with a panel of examiners, it was probably a more conducive environment to enable me to defend my work effectively and have stimulating discussions on wider issues. Best of all, being able to sit my viva and complete my PhD despite the lockdown enabled me to take something really positive from these dark and difficult days.

Written by: Richard Fox

Twitter: @RichardFoxBC

Léna is a first year PhD student at Exeter University Business School in Penryn. She investigates the design of regenerative agriculture community-based systems that could potentially address both deforestation and food insecurity challenges. Léna collaborates with the NGO Cool Earth which creates partnerships with indigenous communities to tackle deforestation and climate change. Her research focuses on the projects Cool Earth has developed in Peru with Awajún and Asháninka communities. 

I was only 15 days into my PhD when I left Cornwall to return to my home country: France. I did it with a heavy heart: I had just settled in Falmouth, had been warmly welcomed by people at university, as well as my flatmates. I tried to reassure my family by telling them this crisis was far from us, but they insisted it would reach us soon and that I should be back home as quickly as possible.

I booked my tickets and left three hours after. After a 17-hour trip including two trains, a long walk, a nap in Kings Cross station, a bus and a plane, I arrived in Toulouse two hours before France started its lockdown. It was on 17^th of March.

I feel a lot has happened since that day, although when I think about it I mainly have been sitting in front of my computer or reading a book in my garden when sun shows up – which fortunately happens quite often in South of France!

Maybe this impression comes from all the emotional stages I have been through since the beginning of this crisis. First, it was denial: the pandemic would never hit us, I was safe in Cornwall (hence the fact I bought and cooked food for approximately a month the day before I left…).

Then, fear appeared: I was suddenly back home, and I did not know how I would be able to continue – or I could even start – my research. I was also scared about the impact of the virus on the indigenous communities I hope to be able to visit for my field work in the future. They have been able to block the access to their territories and therefore limit the spread of the virus for now. But in the case some of them would get sick, there is very little access to healthcare in the remote regions they inhabit. This situation could also worsen some challenges communities already face such as food insecurity. In fact, some villages are highly dependent on food imports, and difficulties in accessing external markets could result into a dramatic decrease of the amount and the quality of food included in their diet.

After fear came anger. I was recently talking to some friends in Mexico who were explaining to me that most of the Mexican population would not stay home. Many of them cannot afford to respect the lockdown since they are daily workers. Indeed, in Latin America and in many countries around the world, people have often to choose between staying home or feeding their families. This raises the question of inequalities among human beings to deal with this crisis. The disparities are not only economic but also social and educational. For instance, in France, up to 8% of children have not been able to attend online school.

This led to a phase of gratefulness. I focused on how lucky how was to have a job that I loved and that I can do remotely. Although it is hard to start a project from home, since it is a crucial period to train on research methods or build a network; I am aware that the work of many researchers has been deeply more affected than mine. All my wishes are with them and I really hope that solutions will be found to support them effectively.

I am also thankful for the constant support I received from University and especially from my supervisors. I am also able to keep in touch with the NGO I am collaborating with so this also means I can have regular updates on the situation in the communities.

Now, my goal is to stay positive and even become hopeful. Yes, the situation is dramatic, and life will very unlikely return to normal anytime soon. But is back to normality what we should be aiming for? Could we not take advantage of this unprecedented challenge to imagine a new societal organisation? And has not this change already started?

In France, for example, local food distribution channels have soared, and there is currently a big push from consumers to develop this system in the future months rather than going back to long and blurred supply chains.

In short, my current way to deal with the situation is to see it as a warning, an opportunity for us to change a system – which has many times shown and once again demonstrates its limits and dangers – as well as our own behaviour. How will this pandemic impact my projects in the medium and long term? Can my research contribute to presenting an alternative?

Staying home is an effort we are all doing. When we will be able to go out, where will we go? And what will we do?

I hope to be able to come back to Cornwall as soon as I can and connect with my peers to share opinions and perspectives on these open questions. In the meantime, I will be happy to do it remotely!

Written by: Léna Prouchet

Twitter: @LenaProuchet