Leveraging the flexibility of digital assessment technologies, and the cooperation between an awarding organisation and their regulator, to minimise the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic on the assessment of professional qualifications: Matt Wingfield

Nov 25, 2020

As I sit here now, waiting for the evaluation committee to review my PhD dissertation, I finally have the time to reflect on the journey I began five years ago. It was a journey into a research field, yes, but just as much a journey into myself. It has given me more than I ever expected, and little did I know how deeply it would shape me. In this blog post, I want to share my reflections on my PhD journey with those who are currently on theirs, or who are considering embarking on one.

A journey into research, and into myself

You may begin your PhD journey with a desire to master a field, to gain recognition for a lifetime of scholarly engagement, or even to change how we understand and talk about education. But before long, you may realise that a doctorate is not only about the topic you study or the field you contribute to; it is about your own journey of growing into the role of a researcher. It is a process that shapes you just as much as you shape the project. Although I didn’t fully realise it until I was nearing the end, sitting here now I can see that my doctoral journey felt like stepping into a space where my identity was constantly shifting and quietly reinventing itself.

The four roles that shape a researcher

Over time, I realised that the work demanded four distinct ways of thinking and acting, four roles that moved in and out of focus and challenged me in different ways. The first was the need for structure. Not rigid plans, but an intellectual architecture that could hold the project together when complexity increased. Planning as a PhD candidate is not about controlling the process; it is about creating the conditions for progress. It requires balancing ambition with realism and recognising that flexibility is not a sign of weakness, but of academic maturity.

Alongside this grew another need: the ability to guide processes. Not necessarily large teams or major projects, but the small, fragile moments where knowledge is actually created. These moments happen in interviews, in research groups, in conversations with supervisors. Being the one who keeps the direction, creates safety, and ensures that discussions remain meaningful is a skill that develops slowly. It requires presence, attentive listening, careful adjustment, and an understanding that research is a social practice, not a solitary performance.

Gradually, the analytical work became a larger part of my everyday academic life. This is where the PhD journey revealed itself as a craft. Analysis demands both precision and creativity, discipline and curiosity. It asks you to tolerate uncertainty, to question your own assumptions and preconceptions, and to let the material challenge you. It is also where I discovered that research is not about confirming what I thought I knew, but about opening space for new understandings and contrasts.

And then comes dissemination, not as a final step, but as an integral part of becoming a researcher. Sharing research is not just about presenting results; it is about making them understandable, relevant, and useful. It requires finding a voice that is both precise and accessible and being willing to engage in dialogue with others who may challenge you. Dissemination is where research meets the world, and where the researcher meets themselves as part of a larger academic community.

Overcoming early fears and finding my academic voice

I can still feel it in my bones, how terrified I was in those early moments: hitting “submit” on my first journal article and stepping onto the stage at my first conference paper session, carrying the unmistakable sensation of being a complete newcomer suddenly playing with the big guys. Fortunately, my supervisors were right there beside me, sharing the stage, pressing the “submit” button with me, and supporting me through every step into the academic arena.

Looking back, it is clear that these roles are not phases but parallel tracks. They evolve side by side, and together they have made me more aware of what it truly means to be a researcher. I have learned that research is not a linear process but a dynamic movement between structure and improvisation, independence and collaboration, analysis and communication. And perhaps most importantly, I have learned that a researcher’s identity is not something handed to you with the diploma; it is something you build, layer by layer, through experiences that challenge you.

What the doctorate ultimately taught me

My final reflection is that a doctorate is not just about the knowledge you produce; it is a journey that reshapes your identity and the skills you must learn to own and cultivate. It is demanding, yes, but for me it has been a transformative experience, one in which I have learned more about myself than about the knowledge I have contributed. And now, as I sit here writing this blog post to pass the time while waiting for the committee’s final review, I realise that this journey has not come to an end; it has only just begun.

About the Author

Dan-Anders Normann

Dan-Anders Normann

Dan-Anders Normann is a doctoral student in the Department of Teacher Education at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU) in Trondheim, Norway. He has a vocational background as a trained pastry chef and vocational teacher. His doctoral research explores gradeless assessment as a phenomenon through a mixed‑methods study design drawing on international peer‑reviewed publications and students’ and teachers’ perceptions in Norwegian upper secondary schools.

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