Critical Perspectives on Accounting (1997) 8 , 540

‘‘An Empirical’’ Ode to a doctoral program

I don’t know how , but it suddenly came , The passion to have a Ph . D . by my name . Colleagues at the small midwestern school Found the Master’s an inadequate tool . ‘‘A Ph . D . is a must!’’ they often quothed The pompous lot , all duly (hooded and) robed . Hence , one day , the GMAT’s lurked ‘‘You must have a minimum of 620 , ’’ most doctoral programs smirked . Even then , there was no certitude of admission Skill , race , gender , luck and score—all played a role in the mission . ‘‘However , keep trying dear fellow , ’’ most advisors espoused ’tis part of the doctoral training , to make you feel like a louse . Swallow my pride , indeed I did And then swallowed even more of academic feed . There were seminars on statistics , and methods to follow And readings to do , like there was no tomorrow . Topping it all was the tight-rope walk Over departmental politics and double talk . Academics , I found , were an insecure lot Quick to get pricked , over petty matters caught . Their classroom bombast increasingly rang hollow As these revealed role models I began to follow . Seminar by seminar , the hill was scaled ‘‘On to the comprehensive exams!’’ our voices railed . Accounting prerequisites and classes merged Over semesters and years , the program surge . Marriage and children where quick to follow And there were days when I longed for the gallows . Until , two eight hour exams failed to seal my fate And for the verbal exams , we set a date . The comprehensives behind me , and ABD by my name Exhausted but victorious—the beast I had tamed . The proposal defense was coming about , But in a distance hung a thick dark cloud . The market had collapsed , rose the cry The promised rivers of mammon had all run dry . Month after month , the reassurances came , ‘‘Tis the economy , stupid!’’ play the waiting game . Friends and acquaintances grew in number . All jobless , future prospects beginning to lumber . Spouses promised salvation anon , Grew increasingly restless and forlorn . Finally , lucre did look my way Today , as an assistant professor I hold sway . The Ph . D . by the name no longer looks hollow . ‘Tis others now , whose pride I swallow . There is yet the tenure barrier up ahead , But the doctoral program (for me) is deservingly dead!

Somnath Bhattacharya

(pa960188)

540