Catching a Pikachu, scrolling a Pinterest board, or watching Friends on repeat might be a lot more beneficial than anyone realised. The research was led by Associate Professor Katalin Szelényi, and her team included Leigh Bennett, Jennifer Vincent, Kori Lantas and Chasneika Astacio at the University of Massachusetts Boston, alongside Audrey Jaeger at North Carolina State University.

The researchers interviewed 55 doctoral students at a research-intensive university on the US East Coast, asking them about how they spent their time outside of academic work. What emerged was a rich and surprisingly joyful picture of students carving out leisure wherever they could – in commutes, between classes, late at night – as a way of surviving the high-pressure world of graduate education.

The study draws on psychological theories of leisure, distinguishing between two core motivations: ‘seeking’, which means pursuing an activity for its own intrinsic rewards, and ‘escaping’, which means using it to mentally leave behind the stresses of everyday life. Szelényi and her colleagues found that doctoral students were doing both, often simultaneously, and that these leisure activities were far from trivial – they were essential.

From their interviews, the researchers developed a typology of six distinct ways students experienced and made meaning of leisure.

‘Interstitial joy’ describes the art of squeezing pleasurable activities into the gaps of a packed schedule, such as a thirty-minute gaming session, a few pages of a novel on the train. ‘Unconscious immersion’ captures the comfort of ambient media: playing a familiar sitcom in the background while writing, to help the students feel less alone.

‘Transportive pleasure’ covers the deeper escape offered by travel, films, or reading – the sense of being lifted, however briefly, into another world. ‘Proximal gratification’ was perhaps the most poignant category. In a world where a doctoral student might wait years to see their research published or their work acknowledged, the simple act of catching a Pokémon – as one participant described – offered immediate, uncomplicated success.

Then there were ‘outlets of empowerment’, which were typically physical activities like boxing or working out, which gave students a sense of agency and control when graduate school left them feeling depleted. Finally, ‘socialization and relatedness’ reflected how strongly students craved connection – whether through online gaming, shared Netflix sessions with a long-distance partner, or snowboarding trips with friends.

Szelényi is careful to note that recognising the value of these activities shouldn’t let universities off the hook. The same competitive, productivity-obsessed cultures that make leisure so necessary in the first place need to change. Leisure is a vital coping tool, but it’s not a substitute for structurally better environments.

Still, the findings carry a warmth and humanity that stands out in academic literature. Doctoral students are gamers, crafters, film lovers, amateur chefs, and pot-smokers. They are, as Szelényi and colleagues’ research insists, far more than the degrees they are working towards – and the institutions that train them would do well to remember it.