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The Right Kind of Doctoral Degree

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By Sophie Ruscello

As an assistant professor of music who is on the job market (you can read about why in my first column), I have my doctoral degree in hand. The question is, Do I have the right kind of doctoral degree?

Doctoral degrees in music come in two flavors. The Ph.D. is awarded in traditional "classroom" subjects like music history, theory, and musicology, and sometimes in composition or music education. Meanwhile, the D.M.A. is awarded in a performing area (instrument, voice, conducting, or composition).

Not surprisingly, people who choose the Ph.D. route are sometimes suspicious of those who seek the D.M.A., and vice versa. While the D.M.A. includes rigorous training in academic subjects, oral and written comprehensive examinations, and a research paper of comparable size to a Ph.D.'s dissertation, the D.M.A. also generally includes a series of recitals. The exact components of a D.M.A. program vary from one music school to another, but they all share that combination of performance and academic study. Some universities even house the two degree programs in different departments or schools.

At my own alma mater, the competition and defensiveness between D.M.A. and Ph.D. students eventually devolved into a graffiti war in the stairwell of the music library. When last I looked, the comments had been reduced to various incarnations of "those who can't do, teach" from the D.M.A.'s, to which the Ph.D.'s generally responded by inviting the D.M.A.'s to have sexual relations with an astonishingly wide array of farm animals. An admirable level of discourse, indeed.

When I started graduate school, my main desire was to do studio teaching in my string instrument, so I chose the D.M.A. program rather than the Ph.D. The D.M.A. program at my university is unusual in that it consists of a two-year residency portion, culminating in the conferral of an intermediate degree, followed by a nonresidency period of a minimum of three years in which the candidate does research and gains experience in both performance and teaching.

That translates into a long period of limbo in which the candidate is set adrift in the real world, freed from having to pay a hefty annual tuition bill, but as yet without the doctoral degree that would enable him or her to get a job to pay back the tuition dollars already owed. (This is the kind of thinking that only makes sense in academe.)

During my limbo years, I moved to New York, where I did every kind of musical work imaginable (on the days that I wasn't also doing temp work to pay my rent). In addition to "legitimate" gigs in recital halls and orchestra pits, I played in subways, hallways, and driveways. I was that pesky strolling restaurant musician who refuses to leave you alone with your fettuccine carbonara until you have properly appreciated all 17 verses of "Arrivederci Roma."

I churned out Beach Boys tunes at a bar mitzvah at a restaurant where the floor had been turned into an enormous sandbox. I played Strauss waltzes from memory as part of a tuxedo-clad troupe of women smiling vacuously and standing on a marble staircase behind a fountain, like something out of the Ziegfeld Follies. In my nightmares, that was always the point at which Esther Williams would squirt up out of the fountain and lead us in some sort of aquatic kick line.

The limbo years come to an end when candidates feels they have done enough research and gained enough professional experience to justify the awarding of the D.M.A. In the music performance world, "research" includes not only written papers and publications, but also performances, which are considered equivalent to publications in terms of prestige and accomplishment. At this point, the candidate submits a dossier with written and audio documentation of the relevant experience and performances for consideration for final candidacy for the D.M.A.

I had a respectable number of serious gigs, but I had far more experiences of the Esther-Williams-fantasy-inducing variety, and not even the most creative spin-doctoring could turn them into viable "research" experience that would be accepted by my university. I had, of course, been searching for a full-time teaching position, but in my instrumental area the pickings were particularly slim in those years, and the few positions for which I was eligible slipped through my fingers one by one for the usual reasons: nepotism, under-the-table deals between political factions of various departments, and warring committee members' inability to make peace long enough to agree on a candidate.

Because I'd been pursuing the performance track, I hadn't really considered a job search in music history or theory, since such positions are generally offered to Ph.D.'s, not D.M.A.'s (and I didn't even have the latter degree at that point). It therefore came as something of a surprise when I was recommended for an adjunct teaching position focusing primarily on music history and theory. Two more surprises followed: I got the job, and, in the biggest surprise of all, I loved teaching the material.

That adjunct job led to my current tenure-track position, in which I teach music history, music theory, world music, opera survey, music appreciation, and interdisciplinary arts (Western and non-Western). I also conduct and accompany the campus choir.

In fact, my current job includes everything except studio teaching of my instrument, which was the primary reason I pursued the D.M.A. in the first place.

It makes me a little dizzy to think about that. I imagine there are Ph.D.'s and choral conductors out there who are furious with me because I have the job that they think should be theirs. I can't argue with them, but I was chosen over 134 other applicants for it, so I must have something going for me besides wit and a comprehensive knowledge of "Good Vibrations."

I therefore find myself in a position that is puzzling but perhaps not that uncommon. I still love working with students in the studio and rehearsal hall, but halfway through my degree program I discovered a comparable love of traditional academic music subjects. Even if it were possible, I don't think I would have switched from a D.M.A. to a Ph.D. program, since I wouldn't have wanted to give up doing intensive studio work. But what does this mean for my future employment prospects?

I officially earned my D.M.A. last May and I now have several years' worth of full-time teaching experience, but the degree and the experience are not in the same areas.

On the plus side, I do have several published articles and a recently completed, book-length manuscript on a pedagogical topic, for which I'm currently searching for a publisher. My history and theory knowledge is fairly extensive, and I'm comfortable teaching any undergraduate-level course in either area.

My experience in classroom teaching should serve me well in an application for a studio position; given the current economic conditions, few positions are listed solely as studio teaching without some sort of secondary classroom component.

I'm more concerned about the flip side of the equation: If I apply for a theory/history job, will my experience teaching those subjects make up for the fact that my degree has a different concentration? Or will my application be discarded immediately when the departmental administrative assistant who opens my envelope fails to see the letters "Ph.D."?

Am I overqualified, or underqualified?

Right now, I've applied for 12 positions. Of those, only two are studio positions, and I'm not likely to find any more. Because of the extreme specialization required, music is not a field in which job seekers routinely send out hundreds of applications in a given hiring season.

The other 10 positions are an odd mix of history, theory, conducting, and other components. My rule thus far has been that I don't apply for jobs that specifically request a Ph.D. rather than a D.M.A. and which also include advising graduate theses as part of the job requirements, since this is clearly something Ph.D. holders should do.

Anything else is fair game.