From Punk to PhD: My Bizarre Road to Become a Historian
(Please skim the essay From Punk to Published for some background on my never ending war with my own ignorance)
Whenever I pictured a historian, they were always some old guy in a sweater vest or tweed jacket with patched elbows, usually British, occasionally America, who were as serious as they were boring. Lifeless as the people in their books
What fun!
I promised myself I would become a historian that refused to be the living dead, But how? I had no real map. And who the hell reads the biographies of historians to find secrets of success? Okay, I did. But their lessons couldn’t be replicated - serve in World War II and get the GI Bill, be born to high status family with ties to the Ivy League, working each summer to pay a whole year’s tuition and expenses (HAHAHAHA). Since there was no map I had to cut my own path through the dark woods of school and scholarship and hope I didn’t get lost or eaten. So, here’s the steps required for all those who wish to be just like me!
Be born Canadian
Have a chip on your shoulder about being the dumbest person in a house full of geniuses
Have the only thing you love die (punk rock) and realize you’re screwed if you don’t have a degree
Pick the one subject where you seemed to have a shine, then, come a angel’s hair away from flunking out your very first term
Soak in the moment of kindness from one teacher who said you had a good mind
Spend four years studying like a machine, reading, writing, working at a bookstore for that phat discount on books.
Never ask for help so folks won’t see how dumb you are and how hard you have to work to be as good as geniuses among you. (BIG MISTAKE)
Close to finishing your degree, recognize you are still no more viable in the job market as you were selling books. When some one says “grad school”, you find the only program for your interest (military history) - and discover the tuition is criminally cheap (Canadians don’t care much for military history).
Become one of four civilians at a the Royal Military College of Canada, surrounded by cadets, veterans, and maverick professors, and enjoy your status as a weird outsider.
Employ STUDY OR DIE mentality in a very demanding program and get your MA
Burnout and graduate with an MA not much more valuable than your BA
Have a meltdown, recover, then return to grad school to get a PhD that will at least give you an edge to teaching.
Six years of research across the UK and North America, of ingesting libraries of books, writing articles, drafts, and finally a top-notch biography of a doctor who did casualty research at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, you become DOCTOR RIDLER!
Move to the US where none of your Canadian work mean anything to anyone
Have your life collapse into poverty and fight to survive in the post-2008 Great Recession
Work five jobs, six days a week, living in poverty, you abandon all hope of being a historian
Years later, take a chance and apply for a fellowship - and get it !
Travel from Manila to London doing research and writing of your next book!
Rant about how awful US intelligence reports are infinitely more boring than British ones, and end up getting a teach gig at Johns Hopkins University
Publish your fellowship book!
Rebuild life from almost complete failure and now have the bandwidth to pursue history and teach history, knowing it could vanish in a heartbeat.
Worry about ever selling another book
Stop pretending academia can be anything more than a part-time job, and that whatever history you write must done on your own
Start new history project
TBC