Also e-mail him with that story, Hil.

Also e-mail him with that story, Hil.

Yeah. Except do that anonymously.

Your advisor is an asshole with power over you. I have no advice on how to handle that. The ball peen hammer thing, though not practical, is appealing...

And when I googled the story of the perpetual candidate (search terms: phd candidate advisor hammer), I was kind of appalled to find that he was one of about a half-dozen grad students to have done so over the past 30 years. He was the only one who chose to do it with a ball-peen hammer, though.

And, good God, he was probably none too stable to begin with, but his advisers spent nineteen years dicking him around, quibbling over this and that and sending him back to square 1 over and over and never actually letting him move forward or give up and quit (and it must have been near impossible to let go of it after he'd been there a full decade; so much time and effort invested already, it would have felt like death to give up) while he scrounged away at student teaching and whatever other part-time work he could find to fill in the gaps while he flogged away at the never-ending dissertation.

Matilda: [very solemnly] He's going to do great things.

When I got home this evening, she explained to me that she needed to talk to Barack Obama; when I asked her what about, she explained that there's a big chair at her daycare provider's house that he needs to move. I'm sure he'll get right on it.

I so rarely comment in here (although I would like to take a ball-peen hammer to Hil's advisor) but:

I wanted to be the village wise-woman - I would gather up various types of weeds and let them dry in the metal garden shed behind our garage, and pretend they were medicine.

I did this too! I also brewed various "teas" out of the various weeds by letting them soak in the sun and water. My mother very smartly never actually let me drink them.

I should note for those of you hearing Matilda's conversation in your head, she pronounces "Barack Obama" as one word. It comes out as "Baracka-bama!

I wanted to be the village wise-woman - I would gather up various types of weeds and let them dry in the metal garden shed behind our garage, and pretend they were medicine.

Raise your hand if this surprises you about Andi.

Thought not.

Hearting on Matilda.

Gah, Hil, that sucks. I remember my mother's seemingly never-ending struggles with a bad advisor who was constantly throwing roadblocks and criticizing her choice of topic. (She was working on cognitive development in the children of teenage mothers. He suggested she do something "interesting" like, no lie, mapping the genome of rice.)

Cash, I did not mean to be dismissive at all. I tend to come at things from the educator perspective, and I had my students in my head--especially as I had just come back from class, and I--earlier in the semester--used one the quiz from Understanding Poverty in the class. They really needed it. For a more nuanced reader, I would say, "yeah, these are generalities, and there will be exceptions, but generalities can be really helpful."

Jilli, there are a number of Disney movies that I love the mosic, but not the plot. As a child I liked Belle because she was a brunette and a reader.

Hil, we could totally take care of that adviser issue for you. We know a guy. He may or may not have a hammer.

I did this too!

Sophia, my sister in make-believe herbalism!

Raise your hand if this surprises you about Andi.

Hee.

Hil, you totally have my sympathy.

Matilda is definitely of teh cyoot.

I was also a make-believe herbalist. I spent a lot of time pretending I was a pioneer, when I wasn't playing Tarzan and Jane or Flash Gordon.