Graduate Assistantships in the Digital Humanities

Balancing Structure and Independence with an Introductory Practicum

Graduate students starting out at a DH center or on a project may have little to no experience on grant-funded projects and bring varying degrees of technological expertise. Project managers must acknowledge the diversity of skill levels and strike a balance between setting students loose to learn on their own and providing guidance and oversight. The digital skills required for a project, such as a programming language or software program, are also usually disconnected from a student’s formal coursework, which makes learning on the job essential. Without at least a semblance of structure, graduate students can easily become disillusioned with their assistantship and DH work. It may be difficult for them to see any connection between the assistantship and their larger goal of becoming a humanities scholar. If this occurs, they may see learning digital skills as an annoying hurdle or task to be completed rather than an integral part of becoming a humanities scholar in the digital age.

During our time at RRCHNM, the Digital History Fellowship offered a model for creating structure by building connections between coursework and the graduate assistantship. The fellowship was installed in 2012 and funded by the Office of the Provost. Each year, the award provided two to three new history PhD students with full tuition waivers and a stipend for taking a two-year practicum course at RRCHNM.6 Similar to a paid internship, students received course credit for their assistantship hours and learning at the center, which counted toward their full-time course load. In the first semester of the fellowship, an RRCHNM faculty member directed students in a module exploring the history of the center and the development of digital history as a field. This was designed to complement and enhance what the fellows learned concurrently in Clio I. Over the next few months, the fellows rotated quickly through the center’s active projects, learning the ropes and contributing to appropriate small-scale tasks. In the second semester, fellows were assigned to one or more projects and began to hone the skills associated with that project.7 During the second year, fellows continued working on center projects, undertaking greater responsibilities.

An introductory practicum is a useful starting point for building a valuable assistantship experience. At its best, the Digital History Fellowship immersed students in the work of RRCHNM and the field more broadly. Fellows walked away with a sampling of the center’s diverse projects, the ability to critically engage with digital scholarship, and a foundation of new skills, such as using the command line and GitHub, navigating web servers, and installing development versions of WordPress. However, this model was time intensive. It placed responsibilities on project directors and managers that did not always align neatly with grant deliverables, amounting to invisible labor that could not be budgeted for directly. Already busy juggling other tasks to meet project outcomes, center staff had to find ways to structure meaningful short-term projects and assignments for fellows at varying skill levels. Often they were highly successful in teaching and guiding junior scholars in the tools and practices in DH. Other times, fellows were left idle without direction.

Despite the unevenness of the experience, we believe the practicum model is worth pursuing as a way to integrate training and pedagogy into DH graduate assistantships. By necessity, a practicum at another institution will look different. To be effective, though, learning objectives need to be laid out specifically and clearly, and they need to be communicated not just to the students but to all faculty and staff involved. Ideally, students should participate in shaping their own learning objectives.8 Students should have the opportunity to work with and learn from the various faculty, staff, and other graduate students at the center or on a project. However, as exposing inexperienced students to a new project is more likely to create work than offload it, the added labor needs to be recognized and accounted for. At the same time, an introductory practicum helps mold students into more well-rounded DH practitioners who understand their strengths and interests, are able to serve as integral members of a project team, and are ultimately better prepared to pursue their professional goals. Former DH fellows and center GRAs have launched promising careers. It is not a coincidence that many have landed tenure-track jobs and prestigious positions in DH centers, libraries, museums, and archives. In a seemingly ever-worsening humanities job market, the skills learned at RRCHNM have served former graduate students exceptionally well.

Planning for Achieving Project and Learning Goals

A well-structured practicum supported by institutional resources can provide a solid foundation, but as graduate assistants settle into a project, sharpen their skills, and expand their responsibilities, the alignment between the student’s pedagogical needs and the researcher’s objectives needs to be carefully considered. Project directors must navigate the tensions between achieving project deliverables and facilitating meaningful learning for graduate assistants. Students want and need to do intellectually interesting work that prepares them for their career and research goals. They also need time and opportunity to experiment and learn from failing. But work needs to get done on projects, including rote tasks.

To support student learning while meeting project deliverables, we recommend implementing individualized applied learning plans. Fulfilling the pedagogical responsibilities of a DH center means working with students to build their unique skill sets and facilitate connections to their interests. One helpful mechanism to facilitate student growth is formalizing the broader learning agenda for each student with written plans. In chapter 12 in this volume, Brady Krien calls for Individual Development Plans to ensure that DH training is integrated into a student’s degree plan. An applied learning plan would fulfill a similar function within the specific context of a student’s work on a grant-funded project. On a regular basis, each graduate student needs to work with project directors to assess skill gaps, with an eye toward the student’s career and research goals, and identify opportunities for development.9 These plans need to delineate how the student’s role will facilitate meaningful learning within the scope of the assigned project; what professional development opportunities the student will pursue and what support the directors will provide; and, when possible, how student-initiated projects will fulfill learning gaps.

The primary purpose of an individualized applied learning plan is to ensure that graduate assistants are assigned work that meaningfully contributes to the project and ensure that they understand how the work fits into the larger project and their personal growth. This requires intentional effort from the earliest stages of a project. When planning and writing a grant, it is essential to consider the potential value of the work assigned to graduate students for their own development as scholars, so as to include them not simply in support roles but as full participants in the intellectual process of (re)conceptualizing the project’s aims and methods.10 At many institutions, graduate students cannot be principal investigators on grants. During our time at RRCHNM, individual faculty members made an effort to give graduate students roles such as project manager, outreach coordinator, or managing editor, and, on occasion, bring them into the grant writing process itself. The experience we gained working on these grant-funded projects helped prepare us to write and serve as principal investigators on future grants.

Within the lifecycle of a grant, the point at which a student joins a project determines a large part of their experience, but at all stages of a project, graduate students should be engaging in scholarly interpretation. The grant lifecycle often includes upwards of one year of planning and preparing for an application submission. If funded, the project usually starts three to six months later and lasts from one to three years. Projects are sometimes extended by an additional grant that repeats this cycle. All three of the authors worked on the grant-funded PressForward project at different stages. The PressForward WordPress plugin enables teams of researchers to aggregate and disseminate relevant scholarship. The digital publication Digital Humanities Now had long served as a test case for the project. Regan, who joined the team in 2014, came on toward the end of the initial PressForward grant and was involved in writing and planning for the second. Catalano, who joined the team in 2015 in the middle of that grant cycle, focused on software testing, documentation writing, and managing DHNow. Crossley, who joined the team in 2017 during the third grant period, also concentrated on software testing and managing DHNow as well as outreach work. By fall 2018, Crossley was the only remaining graduate assistant on the project. The earlier stages of the project offered more opportunities to shape the aims of the project and the features of the software. For Crossley, it was also important to meaningfully engage with the intellectual questions around digital open scholarship guiding the project. She pursued this by conducting a critical evaluation of the landscape of digital humanities blogging through quantitative and text analysis of nine years of posts shared on DHNow. The center covered travel expenses for her to present this work at a conference. Having the center’s support to do this project made working on the final stages of a grant a more fulfilling experience and illustrates that when planning graduate student project work, creating opportunities for intellectual inquiry is valuable, regardless of the project stage. This bears out Kayla Shipp’s assertion in chapter 14 in this volume that graduate students’ present and future careers are better served by DH work that goes beyond the technical and methodological to the creative and critical. At the beginning of a project, graduate students need not just collect data but can understand and help shape the arguments built into the project’s modes of collecting, structuring, and presenting information.11 Toward the end of a project, they should not just be wrapping up project deliverables but critically assessing the project’s achievements, failures, and possible futures.

By engaging in scholarly interpretive practice throughout the project, students are positioned to publish and present on their work. A student learning plan needs to incorporate professionalization goals because fostering professionalization is one critical way that project directors can prioritize pedagogy and treat students as scholars in training rather than employees.12 As Alison Booth argues in chapter 2 in this volume, graduate training in DH is, ideally, a shared inquiry, with students given opportunities to coauthor and present as part of their work on collaborative projects. It is not enough to encourage students to publish and present. Project directors must take the time to think through and discuss concrete topics and venues with students. Time and expenses should be paid, and it is critical to be realistic about the time investment required by students and directors. Disseminating research can benefit the student and the project, but only if it is integrated into the student’s workload and does not become added labor.

Encouraging Student-Driven Learning

Individualized learning plans should acknowledge when a designated project cannot fully meet a student’s learning expectations. Many projects require depth rather than breadth in learning and involve applying a narrow set of tools and skills. When this skill set pairs well with the student’s interests and career goals, the experience can be empowering. However, if a student feels that the specialized needs for a project do not align with their own objectives, this can create frustration and a sense of missing out on vital career training. When circumstances allow, then, it is worth including opportunities to split time across projects and support student-initiated projects. Splitting a student’s time across more than one project can expand the range of experience while providing an opportunity for more students to work on a project. One way RRCHNM maximized the range of experiences was to implement graduate student-initiated projects in academic year 2019–2020. At the start of the year, students partnered in groups of two to four to develop modest year-long project proposals, complete with budgets, which the center faculty reviewed in a mock grant application process. The projects included a software prototype, an Omeka website, and a secondary school curriculum website. As a trial run, working out the kinks was a challenge, and Covid-19 interrupted the completion of projects. But by giving students the freedom to choose their projects and roles within the projects, the experiment was successful in enabling students to fill their own skill and knowledge gaps. Other institutions, such as the Scholars’ Lab at the University of Virginia, have experimented with similar programs that facilitate DH training by allowing students to pursue collaborative projects with the support of center staff as part of the Praxis Program, a year-long paid internship for a small group of graduate students to design and build a shared DH project.13 If student projects or splitting time across grant-funded projects is impossible, flexibility for student-driven learning needs to be created within the scope of an individual project.

In developing a student learning plan, project directors and students should work together to design student-driven subprojects that bring together skill development, learning goals, and project deliverables. At RRCHNM, an example of this model was Regan’s development of a custom user management WordPress plugin that could offer administrative and user tools to manage the volunteer editor process for the online publication DHNow. After identifying that the registration and scheduling of editors each week required staffing and administrative resources that were unsustainable in the long term, Regan took the initiative to solve this issue. Regan researched possible solutions and determined that she could build a custom plugin to streamline the registration and scheduling process. Once Regan decided on this approach, she worked to identify the skills needed to build such a program and then built a rudimentary proof of concept to present to the project managers. Open to the idea, the project managers asked for a proposal, written in a similar manner to a grant proposal, and used the opportunity to provide mentorship in project development and grant writing skills. After revising the proposal and outlining clear deliverables for the mini-project, Regan led the effort to develop the software, and together with a team of graduate students tested and deployed the software. The resulting plugin for DHNow not only led to a more refined user registration process for DHNow but also provided Regan with project management, grant writing, and coding skills.

Managing Expectations of Faculty and Student Labor

Prioritizing pedagogy by supporting graduate student learning and professionalization requires supporting the project faculty and staff who train and mentor them. Developing the user management plugin propelled the project and the students’ skills forward, but it required staff at RRCHNM to engage in the labor of mentorship, professionalization, and training, which are often undervalued and disincentivized within the context of grant-funded projects, especially for nontenure-track faculty and staff. Because of grant constraints, fully grant-funded staff are not necessarily paid to do this work. And although the best project managers take seriously their responsibility of training and mentoring graduate students, this often adds uncompensated labor to their workload. As Katina Rogers points out in chapter 1 in this volume, mentorship, guidance, and other acts of care are a crucial counterbalance against the emotional challenges of graduate school. Especially because women, faculty of color, and junior faculty perform a disproportionate share of this “invisible labor,” expectations of mentorship cannot remain informal and implicit.14 For tenure-track faculty, departments need to formally recognize and credit the additional labor of graduate assistant professionalization. Course releases for work on projects can help offset this added labor. For non-tenure-track clinical/research professors and staff, graduate mentorship should be formally included in the job description and evaluation process. When possible, we recommend that grant proposals include graduate professionalization hours in their budgets for faculty and staff to incentivize and compensate for quality mentorship.15 However, because granting agencies in the humanities generally do not allow funding for this kind of work, we recommend prioritizing the use of departmental and center funds to support this labor.

In addition to developing individualized applied learning plans, we recommend implementing job descriptions for graduate assistants. Although job descriptions are generally required for staff, they are not commonly applied to graduate assistantships. Documenting the responsibilities of graduate assistants is necessary to ensure that their expected contributions are not only clearly defined but also remain reasonable for an assistantship position. Just like learning plans, job descriptions need to be reevaluated and updated on a regular basis. It makes sense for graduate assistants who spend a significant amount of time working on a particular project to take on new responsibilities and leadership roles, and graduate assistants often welcome the experience. However, graduate students have competing demands that need to be respected. Students who take on the added labor and responsibility of training and managing their peers do not always receive formal credit or recognition for this work. While it may teach valuable project management and leadership skills, the added responsibility comes with additional stress and no additional financial compensation or funding security. It is often not commensurate with the responsibilities and expectations of graduate assistantships, at least in the humanities. When an individual’s role shifts away from being a student and toward that of an employee, this may increase the time to degree and interfere with their overall educational goals. As a graduate student becomes indispensable to a project, they may feel obligated to continue working on it at the expense of other academic and career opportunities. Ideally, students taking on roles beyond the typical expectations of a graduate assistant would be formally recognized for their role and compensated accordingly, but university guidelines constrain the ability of centers, departments, and principal investigators to increase compensation for graduate assistants. This is why job descriptions should be employed to help guide graduate assistants’ growth within their roles while guarding against responsibility creep.

Staff turnover presents a particular challenge for maintaining reasonable expectations from graduate assistants, so we also recommend that every project develop a transition plan from the outset of project development. Given the nature of grant-funded work and higher education, turnover is inevitable for longer projects. During our time at RRCHNM, numerous staff and faculty departed for new opportunities. On an individual faculty-led humanities project, the project moves with the faculty member, but in the context of a center, projects might instead stay with the institution’s team of project staff. Turnover is understandable and inevitable. Centers and projects should plan for retention and transitions because project turnover can lead to a loss of institutional memory that may place greater demand on a project’s senior graduate students. This is especially likely to occur toward the end of a project or on projects that are no longer supported by a grant but continue to be indirectly supported by an institution. A project transition plan can provide for continuity in the management, training, and mentorship of graduate students on the project team and account for graduate student turnover as students graduate and move on to new opportunities. Continuity should receive as much attention in sustainability planning as documentation and project sunsetting.16 Project transition plans and job descriptions can be useful tools for managing graduate assistant labor on projects while ensuring that graduate assistants can prioritize their own needs and responsibilities as students.

Creating Supportive Work Conditions

Finally, we agree with our colleagues who have highlighted the direct link between funding and the success and well-being of graduate students. As Brandon Walsh has argued, pedagogy extends beyond the classroom to everything faculty do in relation to students, so advocating for better conditions for students involves treating budgets as pedagogical documents.17 Funding stability and budget transparency are critical, as grant-dependent funding can intensify financial anxiety for students. Funding also influences the collegiality of a program, as limited funding can create unhealthy competition and erode cohort cohesion and cooperation, which is especially important to maintain in collaborative digital humanities work. We recommend keeping funding packages as even as possible throughout different forms of graduate assistantships within a department and, to the extent possible, guaranteeing student funding through hard monies that can be supplemented with grant funds. Although we as graduate assistants at RRCHNM rarely knew if we had a spot on a grant-funded project from year to year, we knew that we at least had a set number of years of funding through another teaching or research assistantship through the department. At a minimum, transparency helps avoid unnecessary conflict and stress. Learning about the budget should not be optional.

The funding limitations of grant-based projects and strict university guidelines make it challenging for digital humanities centers or project teams to address the financial stresses of graduate assistants, but offering flexible schedules and opportunities for course credits can alleviate some of the stresses of an assistantship. Consider how the workload and obligations of a project-based graduate assistantship compare to teaching assistantships in the department. It is worth factoring in if students are required to travel several days a week to a physical location to “clock in,” adding to commute time and travel costs. Granting graduate assistants flexibility and control over their work schedules and course loads can help. Depending on the nature of a grant project, some of the expectations for graduate students are analogous to additional academic coursework completed without credit. Due to various funding packages in the history department, some graduate assistants at RRCHNM were required to take nine credit hours per semester plus the twenty-hour assistantship, but those in the Digital History Fellowship detailed above took six credits and had their twenty hours count toward three additional credits. This resulted in uneven funding and educational experiences, problems that could be mitigated by creating a practicum course open to all graduate assistants, with specific learning objectives that can build upon work completed on a project while providing course credit if desired.18 This would also have the benefit of fostering a closer connection between the graduate curriculum and career training. If practicum courses are not feasible, credit hours could be awarded for methodological or skills training through an independent study.

Our time as GRAs at RRCHNM was an essential part of our training as digital historians. For most graduate students, it takes time and dedication beyond fulfilling the requirements of a degree program to build DH knowledge and skills.19 Assistantships in DH centers can play a critical role in filling this gap, but only if project and program directors recognize that assigning graduate students to digital projects does not automatically foster their development as DH scholars. Directors should center graduate student education and professionalization by building direct connections between the assistantship and coursework, implementing practicum courses when possible, developing individualized applied learning plans and carving out time for student-initiated projects, assigning work that is not merely preparatory but positions students to engage in scholarly interpretation throughout the life of the project, and integrating student publishing and presentations into the project goals. At the same time, directors should seek to prevent stress and burnout by not overburdening graduate students with leadership responsibilities beyond the scope of an assistantship, granting flexibility in graduate student work schedules, discussing budgets openly and often, and creating options for counting work toward academic credit. To implement these practices, DH programs and project directors require latitude and support, as well as accountability, and, ideally, reliable funding from department heads and administration. They need to see themselves as responsible for professionalizing students into the practice of DH, and departments need to formally recognize and credit this labor. Directors also need to frame the goals of individual projects from a broader perspective. There is a balance to be struck between students completing routine tasks and having the freedom to explore, learn, and fail. If students are too occupied with busywork to step back and see the meaning of their work on a broader level, the center or project risks missing out on new ideas and possibilities. When graduate students are supported, intellectually fulfilled, and trusted to pursue and produce interesting, valuable scholarship, it benefits not only the student but the project, the center, and the future of digital humanities.

Notes

1. 1. The following clarifies the years each contributing author worked at RRCHNM: Amanda Regan, fall 2013 to spring 2018; Joshua Catalano, fall 2015 to spring 2018; and Laura Crossley, fall 2016 to spring 2020. During our time there, eight to twelve history PhD students and candidates were placed as GRAs each year.

2. 2. See Cohen, “Pragmatic as Well as Prescient” for a discussion of the origins of George Mason University’s PhD in history as well as the origins of the “Clio Wired” course sequence.

3. 3. The curriculum for the second half of the Clio Wired sequence has changed over the years as the field has evolved. It previously focused on presenting historical information on the web using HTML and CSS.

4. 4. For a discussion of digital dissertations out of history departments, see Sharpe, “Digital Dissertations and the Changing Nature,” and Agarwal, “History Dissertation Goes Digital.” See also the George Mason University Department for History and Art History’s “Digital Dissertation Guidelines.”

5. 5. Funding came from various sources during our tenure at RRCHNM. Regan’s and Crossley’s first two years were funded through the Digital History Fellowship (2013–2015 and 2016–2018, respectively). Catalano’s three years were funded through the Presidential Scholarship (a recruitment fellowship funded through the Office for the Provost). Others held GRAs that were sometimes funded by grants or through the history department.

6. 6. Due to the funding cycle of the program, most cohorts received two-year fellowships, but others received one-year fellowships. In our experience, the full two-year fellowship helped create a more immersive introduction to the work of the center and digital history.

7. 7. In previous iterations of the fellowship, the module came at the end of the project rotations. Additionally, project rotations used to last the entire first year, with the main project assignment scheduled to start in the second year.

8. 8. For an example of articulating shared values, common goals, and individual goals within a practicum, see the discussion of the Praxis Program Charter in Nowviskie, “On Capacity and Care.”

9. 9. We echo Anderson et al., in “advanc[ing] a model of project management that sees training as an end in itself, distinct from the project’s teleology.” As they argue, “Training must be a deliberate and planned activity that is formally budgeted and accounted for in the project’s timeline, and should be compensated to the same degree as other tasks performed within the project.” But student training must also be measured and evaluated as its own goal, separate from progress on project milestones. See Anderson et al., “Student Labour and Training.”

10. 10. In surveys of faculty and student researchers on DH projects, Anderson et al. found that “students perceive their work to be less collaborative than faculty researchers, and this is possibly a consequence of the nature of the work given to them.” Too often student work is preparatory, undervalued, and “literally ‘unseen’ because it exists in hidden coding and programming.” We believe that project directors should treat and credit student labor as constitutive of, rather than preparation for, the “real” scholarly work of a project. See Anderson et al., “Student Labour and Training.”

11. 11. For an example of turning the “seemingly mundane or taken-for-granted work” of data construction into a pedagogical opportunity for digital literacy and critical thinking, in this case with undergraduates, see Rivard et al., “Building Pedagogy into Project Development.”

12. 12. We support the principles outlined in “A Student Collaborators’ Bill of Rights,” but we agree with Mann that these principles do not go far enough in addressing the hierarchical structures of research relationships. Mann argues for “replacing the collaborative model for working with graduate students [on DH projects] with a pedagogical model.” According to Mann, “Conceiving project partnerships as simply collaborative, rather than as more formally structured research relationships, masks some important responsibilities that faculty members owe to their students.” Single-authored, peer-reviewed publications remain “the most valued work attached to digital projects,” yet the collaborative model, as typically practiced, tends to shut graduate students out of this step. “Paying graduate students to work, but not encouraging them to think and write about their work, creates a disconnect between their labor and their intellectual development,” so as part of a pedagogical model, project directors “have a responsibility to help their students publish in the field.” See Mann, “Paid to Do.”

13. 13. For a discussion of the collaborative model used at the Scholars’ Lab, see Nowviskie, “Too Small to Fail”; Walsh, “Praxis and Scale.”

14. 14. Numerous scholars have discussed the impact of emotional labor on female, faculty of color, and junior faculty. For example, see Bellas, “Emotional Labor in Academia”; June, “Invisible Labor of Minority Professors”; Tunguz, “In the Eye of the Beholder”; Social Sciences Feminist Network Research Interest Group, “The Burden of Invisible Work in Academia”; and Guarino and Borden, “Faculty Service Loads and Gender.”

15. 15. As Opel and Simeone argue, “The graduate students who come to labor in the lab are a visible and direct result of the synergistic forces of funding and institutional shaping rather than consideration for the goals and objectives of graduate education . . . much of that graduate training and education is invisible because it is not tied to these funding models and resultant lab practices.” See “The Invisible Work of the Digital Humanities Lab.”

16. 16. For more on the importance of planning for turnover, see Nowviskie, “Too Small to Fail.”

17. 17. See Brandon Walsh, “Your Budget Is a Question of Pedagogy and Equity” for a discussion of how the economic conditions created by a program directly influence the kinds of people who are able to participate and the kind of work that can be done.

18. 18. Practicum course credits should apply toward degree requirements, and students should not take more practicum credits than can be productively applied to the degree. During our time as fellows, up to six credits from the Digital History Fellowship practicum could count as electives or toward a digital history minor field, but each semester of the practicum counted as a three-credit course, for twelve credits total in a two-year fellowship. With new limits on the number of credits covered by tuition waiver, students felt that they were unable to take enough additional credits to make timely progress on degree requirements. Based on student feedback, the practicum was modified to count just once for three credits.

19. 19. See Brady Krien in chapter 12 in this volume for more on the difficulty of integrating DH training into graduate education.

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