TLDR: I just started my PhD at Oxford, and I could not even imagine this would become real over the last few years, when for the majority of the time I truly acted without a plan. I do believe I am someone who stumbled forward with help, luck, and all the hard work I was capable of. Now, I hope to support other hollowbreds finding their path too. Read more

I recently stated my PhD at Oxford, which truly feels like a major milestone for me on a lot of very different levels: I am a first generation graduate who constantly worked throughout Uni, with little clue of where I would have ended up. I am still not exactly sure I managed to explain to my family what a PhD really is (you may claim I haven’t fully understood it myself, but I digress), but I feel extremely grateful and, for once, privileged to be at Oxford.

The intensity and ownership of research have always been my dream, and I owe a lot to everyone who helped me realize what was truly unfathomable just a few years ago. I am particularly grateful to (in chronological order) Charles Gorintin, Sophia Yang and Remi Cadene: grazie, you did change my life more than I would have ever deemed possible.

A few months ago, I read post on x-dot-com-the-everything-app, which I just felt was surreal all-around. The post painted a story that I found extremely hard to relate to, that of “thoroughbred”: somewhat mystic figures who are raised to become successful in academia, and who come from—some-sort-of-wealth-y, I add—backgrounds who do recognize education as the sole true social uplifter.

Then and even now, I cannot relate to any of that. My story is different, very different. Most of the people I talked to about starting at Oxford—friends and family alike—did just trust my own judgement as per why this was a good call, but promptly moved past the significance of being admitted into Oxford and inquired about very important and pragmatic aspects, such as the pay, duration, career prospects, and more. Needless to say, my answers changed their opinion quite significantly. Going back in time more than 10 years, to 2013, I remember a rather similar predilection for pragmatism playing out as pressure for going into vocational school, where I could have learned accounting, instead of high school, where I have learned Latin, and Maths. My grades have always been very high, and since I can remember, I have always enjoyed studying, but the surrounding circumstances—what I have now learned somewhat pretentious people call “social capital”—scarce to the point that my academic achievements could really only be appreciated as proof of a work ethic better suited for the workforce, the one my family and I belong to: people who works with their hands.

To this day, I am nothing but grateful for all the well-meaning advice collected along the way, and perhaps even for those suggestions filled with self-interest and no true compassion—in the end, I did not go for vocational school and later did enroll in an Engineering School instead of becoming a baker or a chef-de-salle. For many different reasons, I feel I did put on my family’s shoulders a rather unfair load: telling the first-generation graduate who just really wanted to make something of his life what to do must have not been easy. More than that, I am rather ashamed to say in hindsight I did constantly act without a plan. After all, what plan could take one from working as a waiter to doing a PhD at Oxford? The point I am trying to make is my family did go through me moving around Italy and Europe, for jobs they perhaps never fully understood (I remember that when I started at Bain, no-one really knew what that place was). That is to say, my family saw me cluelessly travel the world, last-minute cancelling holidays for obscure conference deadlines, and immersing myself in work more than I perhaps should have, and not once I was able to provide them with the grand vision that could have explained it all, nor in all honesty I believe they would have understood my plan even if I had one.

I am fully aware this may read like one of those world-beater notes, where I claim I have done all of this by myself: the truth is far, very far from this. I constantly, oftentimes very inelegantly, loudly and spasmodically reached out for the best opportunity I could find, taking just as many stark turns as I could. I took many, many shortcuts, and relied on others’ practical and emotional support and help as often as I could have. I have been far from self-sufficient, or doubtless about what was going on. For each of the three degrees I now hold, I remember a day where I called up someone and told them I did not think I would have been able to finish it, that I felt I was falling behind, and that I would have failed my Bachelor’s first, and both of my Master’s after.

Truth is that I lived the last few years without a plan, and at times very spasmodically. Nonetheless, I ended up exactly where I always wanted to, doing research I love and care about, here at Oxford. In other words, I was lucky, extremely lucky. I am particularly grateful to have met the people I so unapologetically relied upon over the years. Fabio Ciccarelli and Pietro Bicocchi, I am certain that if it weren’t for you two I would not be here today, and I will never thank you enough. In very similar ways, you just did so much for me. My hope now is that one day I can have even a fraction of the impact on someone else’s life that you have had on mine.

I arrived to Oxford after years spent working every job I could find. In itself, this means nothing (everyone has a different journey after all!), but I think the years spent building my PhD application did help me put in perspective the value of sheer hard-work, friends and support. My aspiration now is to be of a similar support to anyone who may need it, and particularly for those who come from similar unconventional backgrounds, and do not really know what they are doing. Us, the “hollowbreds”. If you think I could help in any way, please do reach out or book some time together.

Talk soon,

Francesco