Drugmonkey has an interesting post up in which he discusses a piece with 8 points of career advice by someone who didn't make it onto the tenure track (note that I do not see this as "failure", but since this is a career that the author really wanted they ultimately did, literally, "fail" to get it).
Drugmonkey summarizes the piece as one piece of advice: "publish". I drew a different conclusion from the 8 pieces of advice altogether. I do agree that publishing is important (how could I not), but in this particular case what I take from the piece as an overarching summary is "take charge". That may sound odd, because so much of what happens to us during our career feels like chance/luck/serendipity. And it is. But let me try to explain...
Now I don't know the author of the piece, but even from the small bits of information disclosed throughout the column, I recognize his 'type' as I have seen others like him - good scientists, dedicated scientists, but not necessarily "PI material". That may sound harsh and indeed, it is, but after being a PI myself for a while now and after reading so many proposals from aspiring junior scientists, there is something that will ultimately rise up from every application and piece of writing that I see like smoke from a camp fire. And this is either a collection of tiny little steps (neither a deal breaker in and by themself), a pattern, if you will, that cumulatively show evidence of someone who is taking charge or someone who has drifted a long. Now, both may have worked equally as hard, which is what makes it so unfair and so intangible. And precisely because it IS the sum of all their efforts, I think you cannot pinpoint "getting a tenure track position" or "getting tenure" to one specific criterium. You can, however, summarize it as one overarching behavior: take charge. And this is not something that you can "pull off" by working hard as a postdoc for a few years. It is not a line on your CV. It is not even counted in number and quality of publications. It is something that has to penetrate every fibre of your being for the entire length of your career.
Now, the person who wrote the Nature career column with advice sounds like a good experimentalist and a meticulous bench scientist with a great love for science to boot (anyone who does that many postdocs must really love science). With 19 publications (and 5 as first author) they come across as a good collaborator. As someone answering the questions in front of them, they certainly sound like an asset for any lab. But those are the makings of a staff scientist - a position that is, alas, too non existent in current academia (but that's a different topic entirely). All of these things are, however, not enough to make it as a PI - where you need to take charge and do your own research and planning for what comes next. You cannot sit back and be too passive. The author themselves write it in one of the first paragraphs: they were complacent. I don't think they were complacent on purpose. I don't think this is even easily recognizable in specific events or incidences, where you might pull someone aside and say: "I noticed you were really complacent/not taking charge when you did X". Which is why this overall pattern of behavior can continue even in the presence of other output indicators that might signal "on the road to success" (note again that I am only calling this "success" because this is what it would have been in the eyes of the author of the column. More power to you if you recognize that there are plenty of places outside of academia where you can grow and thrive, be successful and do good for the planet because I think there are plenty of such places and we need more PhDs in those positions to ensure a better tomorrow for all life on earth). But perhaps especially because other indicators will signal that things are going well (there is another publication, another conference presentation, the PI is happy/has nothing to complain about because their work gets done), this can be a total blind spot for the person in question.
Note that I am not saying that you shouldn't collaborate or think about the interests of others: I've always been the person discussing other people's projects and helping them wherever I could. Talking and doing science with your lab mates/colleagues is part of the fun of the job. You don't have to be an egocentric asshole who is only furthering their own career (I wouldn't want those people in my own lab even if they brought me Nature papers by the dozen) - but you also shouldn't let your own scientific output suffer or come second. You have to look out for number one and if I have learned one thing as I am getting older it is that nobody will ever care about your success and development as much as you do. Even if they try.
So, there you have it: You need to be pro-active.
Come up with your own research questions - even if there is no need. Indeed, as Drugmonkey mentions: maybe the most important reason to pursue my own lab was when I ultimately realized I had so many questions that I wanted to answer, that it was simply inevitable. Even a permanent job as a staff scientist would not have brought me the fulfillment that I get from being a PI because I could never run that many projects in parallel and dive so deep into the topics that really interest me. (I never thought about it that way, but that is a really big part of why I became a PI: I didn't so much want to DO science as I have questions and an insatiable curiosity about my research fields - thanks Drugmonkey, for that insight).
Make a name for yourself (and this will happen automatically if you have your own ideas/opinions/output that you spread at conferences, it doesn't require really artificial "networking" just for networking's sake - I used to hate networking because I am an introvert with room to grow in the social interactions department, until I realized that 'networking' occurs when you start discussing things you really care about with others. So you can have an in-depth, on topic discussion and network at the same time. It is win-win!).
Find out how to move forward EVEN when you think your PIs are looking out for your career and best interests (one could argue that the author's PhD and postdoc supervisors were in fact not having his best career interest's in mind if nobody ever told him that 12 years as a postdoc with limited first author publications was pushing it).
I want to stress that I don't have a fixed idea of what a PI should be like - nor there I think there should be a narrow definition for this (I certainly don't fit the typical mold of a dominant leader whom everyone respects and is impressed with at first sight). But there is one thing that I know I do have (even though it may not always show on the outside): deep down inside I am confident and autonomous about the path ahead of me - even if I don't know where that path is taking me, I am prepared for the next step. What it means is that I take charge of my science and my own development - and I have done so since the first time I set foot into a lab. That holds for the experiments (where you do have to continuously doubt your results because you can never be too critical of your own science - but it shouldn't result in paralysis!), the background reading (about my scientific topic, about my personal development, about opportunities/challenges/academia), the presentation and dissemination of my results (and that includes the writing up and publishing of everything you do - Drugmonkey is right here, of course).
I have done all of the above for as long as I can remember. That doesn't mean I always know what I am doing. For my entire life, I have been doubting myself a large part of the time. I suspect that a lot of the typical alpha males just push forward on their science oblivious to a lot of other aspects of the job/their personality and I am sometimes jealous of them. But I am quite certain that all of those tiny little steps where I actively took charge have ultimately combined to make me "PI material".
The boss of me
There are times (and these weeks appear to be such times) when I don't feel like I am fit for running a lab at all. Usually it is because I have way too much stuff to do (teaching, grading, traveling, sitting in meetings, fighting administration) - stuff that my lab doesn't benefit from and either doesn't know goes on or thinks is taking too much of my time.
And now, the week before I take a much needed break, I finally have some time to catch up with some science for a change and I find that projects are not running smoothly, some people don't do what I thought we had agreed on, while others depend on the results and are now freaking out, which makes me freak out. On top of that, I find that I am intimidated by my own postdoc, who always has a reply to no matter what I say and who sometimes makes me feel like I am stupid and incapable. And who has too much work on their plate, and therefore not yet finished any of it, but who refuses help and support whenever I offer. I think I need to manage this more and be more strict about who does what and what data belong to whom, but I don't have the will nor the energy.
I am so freaking tired.
And now, the week before I take a much needed break, I finally have some time to catch up with some science for a change and I find that projects are not running smoothly, some people don't do what I thought we had agreed on, while others depend on the results and are now freaking out, which makes me freak out. On top of that, I find that I am intimidated by my own postdoc, who always has a reply to no matter what I say and who sometimes makes me feel like I am stupid and incapable. And who has too much work on their plate, and therefore not yet finished any of it, but who refuses help and support whenever I offer. I think I need to manage this more and be more strict about who does what and what data belong to whom, but I don't have the will nor the energy.
I am so freaking tired.
Debbie Downer
Is it normal to feel like this two months after getting tenure? I presumably have all I have ever worked for, and yet I increasingly catch myself thinking: 10 more years, and then I am out of this crazy environment. I am constantly dreaming about my back up career - but I have no time to work on it on the side, like I had always imagined. There is absolutely nothing romantic about being an academic. The only upside about the presumed freedom (education/teaching always comes first) is that I can just show up late on days where it is simply too much for me to handle. I have been showing up late way too frequently.
It could be hormones, it could be total exhaustion and me being in need of a serious break - but I felt down all week. There is simply too much on my plate. I had to do experiments for one full day (one student couldn't operate an expensive piece of equipment and for another experiment my technician needed an extra pair of hands so I played assistant). It was good to get my mind off of all the boss business I usually fill my days with, but also a good reminder that I really do not miss bench work at all. Couldn't care less. I don't mind it either, but it doesn't make me happy. Just give me a computer and an office and leave me alone.
Except for the fact that of course I am never really left alone. I'm just running from meeting to meeting, from problem to problem with the piles of 'to do' and 'to read' and 'to grade' on my desk getting higher and higher. This week I was in a meeting for 2 hours and I had 20 e-mails waiting for me when I came back. I think half of it was spam. I may have deleted some important ones as well. Ah well. I had a meeting for which I had to read 40 pages of text and I had 15 minutes to prepare (thank goodness for my increased ability to play bluff poker). My to do list is now prioritised by the people who ask me "did you do this yet" after which "this" gets moved to the top (where it should have been weeks ago already, but where it was pushed out with other equally pressing to do's).
I just didn't like my job this week and I felt sorry for myself. Which I know is not productive, but sometimes I just cannot help it. Quite frankly, I left work in 'fuck this shit' mode last night. For now I don't care about grants, about papers or about anybody else. I just care about me and the fact that it feels like I am all alone, treading water to just prevent myself from sinking. I am so overwhelmed and under equipped that it feels like all I am doing is putting out fires with a leaking bucket.
It could be hormones, it could be total exhaustion and me being in need of a serious break - but I felt down all week. There is simply too much on my plate. I had to do experiments for one full day (one student couldn't operate an expensive piece of equipment and for another experiment my technician needed an extra pair of hands so I played assistant). It was good to get my mind off of all the boss business I usually fill my days with, but also a good reminder that I really do not miss bench work at all. Couldn't care less. I don't mind it either, but it doesn't make me happy. Just give me a computer and an office and leave me alone.
Except for the fact that of course I am never really left alone. I'm just running from meeting to meeting, from problem to problem with the piles of 'to do' and 'to read' and 'to grade' on my desk getting higher and higher. This week I was in a meeting for 2 hours and I had 20 e-mails waiting for me when I came back. I think half of it was spam. I may have deleted some important ones as well. Ah well. I had a meeting for which I had to read 40 pages of text and I had 15 minutes to prepare (thank goodness for my increased ability to play bluff poker). My to do list is now prioritised by the people who ask me "did you do this yet" after which "this" gets moved to the top (where it should have been weeks ago already, but where it was pushed out with other equally pressing to do's).
I just didn't like my job this week and I felt sorry for myself. Which I know is not productive, but sometimes I just cannot help it. Quite frankly, I left work in 'fuck this shit' mode last night. For now I don't care about grants, about papers or about anybody else. I just care about me and the fact that it feels like I am all alone, treading water to just prevent myself from sinking. I am so overwhelmed and under equipped that it feels like all I am doing is putting out fires with a leaking bucket.
I'm a grown up now
Unlike Janis Ian, I didn't learn the truth at seventeen. It took me well until I was 40 years old before I shed my last ounce of naiveté. I guess my thanks go to the other two grown ups who lied straight to my face in the past two weeks. And I'm not talking about a little white lie. No, I am talking about me asking them a question and them responding "alpha" when I knew the truth to be "omega".
Of course I was't just truth-stalking them - these people were breaking rules left and right and causing discomfort for many other people (this is al non work related, by the way).
I am so disappointed in grown ups, it makes me really sad.
Of course I was't just truth-stalking them - these people were breaking rules left and right and causing discomfort for many other people (this is al non work related, by the way).
I am so disappointed in grown ups, it makes me really sad.
Sitting at the grown up table
I don't know if there is a causal relationship, but since I got tenure (now some 2.5 months ago - yay!) I have found myself in an increasing amount of grown-up meetings. You know, with adults, often full professors and higher management, 10-20 years older than I am. And with fancy sandwiches, that you are supposed to eat (because: polite) while also making sure nothing drips down your chin (because: awkward) and always being ready to speak (because: need to get your voice heard). Some are once-only meetings, others are committees. All of them leave me baffled and confused about the state of grown up affairs. Here are the major faux-pas:
1. The chair usually doesn't chair. There is no agenda, no structure. Everyone sort of yells things, some things end up on paper, others don't. The chair doesn't summarise, lead or focus. It usually ends in a lump of stuff hanging in the air and then we are kicked out the room because ah, well, time is up and nobody was paying attention. I was editor in chief of my high school news paper and even at 16 I ran meetings that were more organised than this.
2. Pictures are not always worth more than a thousand words. Details are for kids. The grown up meetings are about big picture views. About future strategies for the university. About a point on the horizon. About visionary breakthroughs. You know the synonym for big picture views is you're not careful? Blabla. I am all for ambition and setting major goals. I can dream as big as anyone. But if I listen closely, these meetings never reach the stage where we actually end with something concrete. Suddenly I know why the upper-upper management is so out of touch with what happens on the floor. Because even one level up from where I used to be, the details are forgotten and we already talk in glossy-magazine paper. It sounds nice, but does it have a backbone?
Oh my. How am I going to make sure I don't become one of these people? How do I make sure I still keep an eye out for the reality that we are actually living in? I think this is a good example of why we need age diversity in our ranks. Because I may feel like a toddler slowing them down or holding and back, but at least every now and then I can also make them stop and really look at the world again. Then again, maybe not just youth but also hope is wasted on the young.
1. The chair usually doesn't chair. There is no agenda, no structure. Everyone sort of yells things, some things end up on paper, others don't. The chair doesn't summarise, lead or focus. It usually ends in a lump of stuff hanging in the air and then we are kicked out the room because ah, well, time is up and nobody was paying attention. I was editor in chief of my high school news paper and even at 16 I ran meetings that were more organised than this.
2. Pictures are not always worth more than a thousand words. Details are for kids. The grown up meetings are about big picture views. About future strategies for the university. About a point on the horizon. About visionary breakthroughs. You know the synonym for big picture views is you're not careful? Blabla. I am all for ambition and setting major goals. I can dream as big as anyone. But if I listen closely, these meetings never reach the stage where we actually end with something concrete. Suddenly I know why the upper-upper management is so out of touch with what happens on the floor. Because even one level up from where I used to be, the details are forgotten and we already talk in glossy-magazine paper. It sounds nice, but does it have a backbone?
Oh my. How am I going to make sure I don't become one of these people? How do I make sure I still keep an eye out for the reality that we are actually living in? I think this is a good example of why we need age diversity in our ranks. Because I may feel like a toddler slowing them down or holding and back, but at least every now and then I can also make them stop and really look at the world again. Then again, maybe not just youth but also hope is wasted on the young.
Looking Back
Now that I have had tenure for about 30 days, the realisation has slowly sunk in. I can feel myself slowing down (my blood pressure has literally dropped a few points). And I have decided to grant myself this time to slow down, for the first time in almost 20 years.
Has anything changed?
Yes. I have never been someone who kept their mouth shut, but now I am definitely more outspoken when it comes to organisational and political issues. It is not so much that I did not dare to speak up before (I did, both dare and speak up), but it feels as if if now I also deserve to speak up and be heard. I am not just visiting, I am here for the long run. This is also really my organisation now. My vote counts - I am no longer speaking up just for show, it's serious business.
I am also going in full force to protect and fight for the well being of my team members whenever required (and as far as I can exert some influence, obviously). It feels as if a new confidence has come over me, that I didn't even know was hiding somewhere. And it is really good to find out that she had been there all along: as I was struggling to make it, she kept quiet. She waited in hiding, until it was time to come out and shine. And now she has taken center stage. It turns out that tenure has been my Patrick Swayze and nobody can and will put me in the corner any longer.
Not everything has changed because of tenure (I think). A lot of it also has to do with time passing. You see, my confidence didn't just wait in hiding in some sort of coma. She was actively learning and developing as I grew into my role of PI and teacher. We both matured in the past 4 years. As I sucked it up, she absorbed it like a sponge. And as much as I still think it is crazy that it now commonly takes until you almost reach the age of 40 before you can really become an independent scientist, I must admit that I am much more ready now than I was 4 years ago. The funny thing is, you can only see it when you stop for a minute, capture your breath and turn around to look back at all the ground you have covered.
In the first year of my TT, I enjoyed myself. Everything was new, I was learning new things (both in content and skills) every day. In year two, the honeymoon was over and I just felt completely overwhelmed and constantly doubting my abilities and future success. I took problems home, I was stressed and worried. Year three has been like detox. I learned to let things go that I couldn't control and to really take control of the things that I could. And for the first time in many years, I actually have found some of the fun in science back. I'm reading more. I'm granting myself time to mull over ideas. I can actually feel myself acting like a scientist.
Has anything not changed?
Yes. I am doing the same amount of crazy teaching and grant writing. With the same variable success.
I still get disappointed by grown ups and I am still frequently amazed by my students. But we all need some form of stability in our lives.
Has anything changed?
Yes. I have never been someone who kept their mouth shut, but now I am definitely more outspoken when it comes to organisational and political issues. It is not so much that I did not dare to speak up before (I did, both dare and speak up), but it feels as if if now I also deserve to speak up and be heard. I am not just visiting, I am here for the long run. This is also really my organisation now. My vote counts - I am no longer speaking up just for show, it's serious business.
I am also going in full force to protect and fight for the well being of my team members whenever required (and as far as I can exert some influence, obviously). It feels as if a new confidence has come over me, that I didn't even know was hiding somewhere. And it is really good to find out that she had been there all along: as I was struggling to make it, she kept quiet. She waited in hiding, until it was time to come out and shine. And now she has taken center stage. It turns out that tenure has been my Patrick Swayze and nobody can and will put me in the corner any longer.
Not everything has changed because of tenure (I think). A lot of it also has to do with time passing. You see, my confidence didn't just wait in hiding in some sort of coma. She was actively learning and developing as I grew into my role of PI and teacher. We both matured in the past 4 years. As I sucked it up, she absorbed it like a sponge. And as much as I still think it is crazy that it now commonly takes until you almost reach the age of 40 before you can really become an independent scientist, I must admit that I am much more ready now than I was 4 years ago. The funny thing is, you can only see it when you stop for a minute, capture your breath and turn around to look back at all the ground you have covered.
In the first year of my TT, I enjoyed myself. Everything was new, I was learning new things (both in content and skills) every day. In year two, the honeymoon was over and I just felt completely overwhelmed and constantly doubting my abilities and future success. I took problems home, I was stressed and worried. Year three has been like detox. I learned to let things go that I couldn't control and to really take control of the things that I could. And for the first time in many years, I actually have found some of the fun in science back. I'm reading more. I'm granting myself time to mull over ideas. I can actually feel myself acting like a scientist.
Has anything not changed?
Yes. I am doing the same amount of crazy teaching and grant writing. With the same variable success.
I still get disappointed by grown ups and I am still frequently amazed by my students. But we all need some form of stability in our lives.
Tenure
The strangest thing has happened. Perhaps a wormhole opened up. I have no other explanation for the anomaly that evidently occurred in the midst of Brexit, Trump and all other random craziness and university politics. But my tenure track committee got together for my midterm evaluation and in all their infinite wisdom decided to give me tenure.
I guess, in the words of the great Sally Field, they like me. They really, really like me. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I can now open my mouth, speak my opinion even louder than I did before, get involved in politics, think long term and fight for my people and what is right instead of fighting for my own survival.
It's weird though, I thought that I still had a while to go and so now it comes as a bit of a surprise that I have made it to the top of the mountain and came out a winner in the academic survival of the fittest. There are no more hoops to jump through. Just a couple of years and then I will be too old for all the career development awards with time-post-PhD-award deadlines. I can buy a house. I can relax. But I will also admit, that while fireworks were going off in my head when I heard the news, a little part of my heart broke, unaccustomed to stability and security, and thought: but wait a minute... so this is it?
And indeed, if this is it, then what am I going to do with the rest of my life? I've been mulling over that thought for the past few weeks and the answer is that, quite frankly, I don't know yet. This must be why athletes prepare for the next Olympics even after winning gold. Because there is passion and dedication and true grit in the struggle for success. Once achieved, you have to identify new goals and challenges. And that's not something you do overnight when you've just had your eyes on the same ball for 20 years.
I guess, in the words of the great Sally Field, they like me. They really, really like me. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I can now open my mouth, speak my opinion even louder than I did before, get involved in politics, think long term and fight for my people and what is right instead of fighting for my own survival.
It's weird though, I thought that I still had a while to go and so now it comes as a bit of a surprise that I have made it to the top of the mountain and came out a winner in the academic survival of the fittest. There are no more hoops to jump through. Just a couple of years and then I will be too old for all the career development awards with time-post-PhD-award deadlines. I can buy a house. I can relax. But I will also admit, that while fireworks were going off in my head when I heard the news, a little part of my heart broke, unaccustomed to stability and security, and thought: but wait a minute... so this is it?
And indeed, if this is it, then what am I going to do with the rest of my life? I've been mulling over that thought for the past few weeks and the answer is that, quite frankly, I don't know yet. This must be why athletes prepare for the next Olympics even after winning gold. Because there is passion and dedication and true grit in the struggle for success. Once achieved, you have to identify new goals and challenges. And that's not something you do overnight when you've just had your eyes on the same ball for 20 years.
Work, Life and Balance
I took one and a half weeks off over Christmas and New Year's, which mean I will start work again tomorrow. And I so do not feel like it!
I barely made it to Christmas, I was on the verge of collapsing and during the holidays I just read, did yoga and slept. I was once again too close to complete exhaustion (I had a burnout during my PhD so I know all the telltale signs like the irregular heartbeat and the headaches and the tense muscles and the general apathy and overall lack of willpower). Well, at least the willpower is back (I have been eating properly during my Christmas break with zero pounds gained - yeah) and I feel more rested and energetic but I still feel like a little kid who just doesn't want to go back to school after the holidays.
Unfortunately, I must. In fact, there is a massive grant deadline looming - not even on the horizon, but right in front of me. I had allocated time (in my calendar if not in reality) before the break, but I was too tired to do anything or come up with any ideas at all. So now I have to squeeze all of that work into the next four weeks (yikes) and on top of that my people need attention.
But this year I am putting my priorities straight. And my number one priority is going to be me. I need to take care of myself and be healthy, or this is not going to work. The second priority is to produce output - which means the focus needs to be on science (papers, grants, analyses) and not on teaching. This should align with my goal of making an impact. And not in terms of factor, but in terms of finding my own way of making a mark on the world. And for that I need my health and happiness - and I must admit that I have put those behind work for far too long.
I've thought about all of this over the holidays and I think I have come to terms with the fact that I will just never be a scientific rockstar. And that is okay. Because it doesn't mean that I cannot be a rockstar in some other realm, I just need to figure out the way.
I will probably also forget about all of this as soon as I am back in the crazy academic rollercoaster but this year I am going to fight it with all my might. I at least want to feel like I am in the driver's seat for a change.
I barely made it to Christmas, I was on the verge of collapsing and during the holidays I just read, did yoga and slept. I was once again too close to complete exhaustion (I had a burnout during my PhD so I know all the telltale signs like the irregular heartbeat and the headaches and the tense muscles and the general apathy and overall lack of willpower). Well, at least the willpower is back (I have been eating properly during my Christmas break with zero pounds gained - yeah) and I feel more rested and energetic but I still feel like a little kid who just doesn't want to go back to school after the holidays.
Unfortunately, I must. In fact, there is a massive grant deadline looming - not even on the horizon, but right in front of me. I had allocated time (in my calendar if not in reality) before the break, but I was too tired to do anything or come up with any ideas at all. So now I have to squeeze all of that work into the next four weeks (yikes) and on top of that my people need attention.
But this year I am putting my priorities straight. And my number one priority is going to be me. I need to take care of myself and be healthy, or this is not going to work. The second priority is to produce output - which means the focus needs to be on science (papers, grants, analyses) and not on teaching. This should align with my goal of making an impact. And not in terms of factor, but in terms of finding my own way of making a mark on the world. And for that I need my health and happiness - and I must admit that I have put those behind work for far too long.
I've thought about all of this over the holidays and I think I have come to terms with the fact that I will just never be a scientific rockstar. And that is okay. Because it doesn't mean that I cannot be a rockstar in some other realm, I just need to figure out the way.
I will probably also forget about all of this as soon as I am back in the crazy academic rollercoaster but this year I am going to fight it with all my might. I at least want to feel like I am in the driver's seat for a change.
It's a wonderful life
You know them - the movies in which the main character wakes up as someone else. Someone simpler - who suddenly has a family with kids (he hates them at first, then grows to love them) instead of his glorious job (it's usually a he). It's the story of the Christmas classic "It's a wonderful life" with Cary Grant. It's the story of "The Family Man" (Nicholas Cage). It's the story of many a Hollywood blockbuster, actually, in which the main character learns to appreciate what they have. Or in which they learn to be happy with less than what they had at the outset.
I've been thinking a lot about this lately - because it feels like I've been through my own version of this classic movie tale. I'm just not sure that I've reached the happy ending yet - or that I ever will.
You see - once upon a time I was a science snob. I was trained (both postdoc and PhD) in rich labs in top institutions. It's the world I knew and the world I wanted to be a part of. Then life happened and it turned out to be insanely difficult to find a place to set up my lab. Fast forward and here we are, three years later, at my current university. Don't get me wrong - I really like it there. I like the teaching, creepy time sucker that it is. I like being exposed to strange new worlds. I like my colleagues. But I hate that everything is a struggle. I hate that the equipment is old and that the infrastructure is not the best in the world. I am so proud of my people for what they are able to achieve - much more proud than I have ever been at anything I ever achieved in my wealthy institutions where science was basically handed to me on a silver platter. They are doing experiments in much more difficult circumstances. I was fed with a golden spoon - and I didn't realize it AT ALL at the time.
But now that I am on the other side of the fence (still capable of doing decent science, don't get me wrong, and far better off than many others in countries south and east of my borders) I realize it ALL OF THE TIME.
Just today I was in a meeting with a bunch of international colleagues from all over and the divide stuck out to me like a sore thumb. It was clear that there were scientific haves and have-nots. And it was clear to me that I was in the second category. And it was also clear that the ones in the first category were completely and blissfully unaware of how good they had it.
So I have had my wake up moment. I think I am a better person for it, because nobody likes a snob - even when it comes to just scientific affairs. But now what? Cary Grant may have discovered that he should work less and love his family more. Nicholas Cage may have realized that he liked his simpler life much better than his high-paced overachiever job. But I am not so sure yet. I'd much prefer a faster qPCR machine and better institutional support. And I don't have a family to snuggle up to when I get home - I just got the short end of the deal with nothing in return. Same crazy hours, same crazy hard work, but with far less to show for it. I am just scared that I am going to end up old and bitter - because the reality is that the chances of becoming a science superstar in a less than top-notch environment are just slim. And I never got into this business to be second rate.
And so, like Psych Girl, I am thinking about what I want to be. Because I started out climbing Mount Everest and I am finding out that maybe I am just going to be stuck at basecamp. Sometimes I'm perfectly fine with that, but it's the week before Christmas, I am dead tired and being surrounded by my superstar colleagues during this meeting today was not inspirational at all. In fact, it brought out the worst in me: I felt stupid, unproductive and self-conscious. And at the same time I was jealous of them and angry that they didn't see how good they have it. Not an attractive response to say the least, but at least I know where it came from, I think. I saw a glimpse of my old life - and it made me yearn for the days when I was a science snob. Because sometimes life is a little more wonderful when you are just living in your own perfect little bubble.
So now what?
I've been thinking a lot about this lately - because it feels like I've been through my own version of this classic movie tale. I'm just not sure that I've reached the happy ending yet - or that I ever will.
You see - once upon a time I was a science snob. I was trained (both postdoc and PhD) in rich labs in top institutions. It's the world I knew and the world I wanted to be a part of. Then life happened and it turned out to be insanely difficult to find a place to set up my lab. Fast forward and here we are, three years later, at my current university. Don't get me wrong - I really like it there. I like the teaching, creepy time sucker that it is. I like being exposed to strange new worlds. I like my colleagues. But I hate that everything is a struggle. I hate that the equipment is old and that the infrastructure is not the best in the world. I am so proud of my people for what they are able to achieve - much more proud than I have ever been at anything I ever achieved in my wealthy institutions where science was basically handed to me on a silver platter. They are doing experiments in much more difficult circumstances. I was fed with a golden spoon - and I didn't realize it AT ALL at the time.
But now that I am on the other side of the fence (still capable of doing decent science, don't get me wrong, and far better off than many others in countries south and east of my borders) I realize it ALL OF THE TIME.
Just today I was in a meeting with a bunch of international colleagues from all over and the divide stuck out to me like a sore thumb. It was clear that there were scientific haves and have-nots. And it was clear to me that I was in the second category. And it was also clear that the ones in the first category were completely and blissfully unaware of how good they had it.
So I have had my wake up moment. I think I am a better person for it, because nobody likes a snob - even when it comes to just scientific affairs. But now what? Cary Grant may have discovered that he should work less and love his family more. Nicholas Cage may have realized that he liked his simpler life much better than his high-paced overachiever job. But I am not so sure yet. I'd much prefer a faster qPCR machine and better institutional support. And I don't have a family to snuggle up to when I get home - I just got the short end of the deal with nothing in return. Same crazy hours, same crazy hard work, but with far less to show for it. I am just scared that I am going to end up old and bitter - because the reality is that the chances of becoming a science superstar in a less than top-notch environment are just slim. And I never got into this business to be second rate.
And so, like Psych Girl, I am thinking about what I want to be. Because I started out climbing Mount Everest and I am finding out that maybe I am just going to be stuck at basecamp. Sometimes I'm perfectly fine with that, but it's the week before Christmas, I am dead tired and being surrounded by my superstar colleagues during this meeting today was not inspirational at all. In fact, it brought out the worst in me: I felt stupid, unproductive and self-conscious. And at the same time I was jealous of them and angry that they didn't see how good they have it. Not an attractive response to say the least, but at least I know where it came from, I think. I saw a glimpse of my old life - and it made me yearn for the days when I was a science snob. Because sometimes life is a little more wonderful when you are just living in your own perfect little bubble.
So now what?
Seriously!
To every person that still thinks "ah, but Brexit or Trump would never happen in my country", remember this the next time an elections comes around the corner.
from http://www.phdcomics.com/comics.php?f=1904 via https://xykademiqz.com
from http://www.phdcomics.com/comics.php?f=1904 via https://xykademiqz.com
Tips on how (not) to apply for a PhD position (2)
Following up on my previous post, in which I gave a glimpse behind the scenes of selecting the top contenders for a PhD student vacancy, I'd like to discuss the letter of motivation. Also called the cover letter, I like the name "letter of motivation" (LOM) better - because that is exactly what I, as a PI, am looking for: your motivation.
I like reading these letters, even if it takes up a lot of time. I read them carefully. I read every single line - and I read between the lines. So craft them like Rodin would craft his most precious sculpture. What am I looking for? Her are my five tips for crafting your letter of motivation.
1. You tickle my curiosity
Your LOM should convince me that I need to spend more time with you. It should invite me to really go over your CV in detail, because I get the impression that you've got something to offer that I might want. How do you do that? As I said before: the golden rule is that you should give me no reason to doubt that you would make a perfect PhD candidate. Spelling errors, grammar mistakes: get them out of the way. If I ask for you to be fluent in English, please be so when you write this letter.
2. You want me
This is not about flattery. We all know that gets you nowhere. But I do want to get the feeling that you thought about applying to this specific position. This specific lab. Of course, the worst LOMs are the ones that look like total form letters. A robot could have sent them out. They are generic. They do not mention a single detail about the advertisement. They look like they are copied and pasted from application to application.
Are you rolling eyes and saying "but I would never do such a thing"? Good. Then make sure you actually tailor your letter to this position and this job. Don't write about how awesome my University is. Or my city. Neither of those make you sound interested in what I have to offer. You don't have to sing my praise and tell me I am the smartest thing since sliced bread, but there is nothing wrong with showing that you have an inkling of an idea what I am doing right now (google my website) or have done in the past (read a paper). Tell me what you like about the job. Is it the topic? The field? The particular question? Something must have excited you, or otherwise you will not be right for this job. So tell me what that something was!
3. You make me want you
Don't repeat your CV in prose, but lift out some of the main points that make you a good candidate for this position. Does your prior education provide a seamless fit? Do you have experience with a particular model organism? Does your prior research experience make you super excited about finally working on a single question for four years? Let me know!
Of course you can also overdo it. I'm okay with your LOM being over one page in length. Really. But three pages, to the point where you are repeating yourself? That is just making me dread the editing of your future papers. Knowing when to stop is a skill in and by itself. And with that I will move on to the next point.
4. Lift my concerns
Your CV alone might confuse me. Perhaps your background doesn't sound like the perfect fit. If so, take extra care to motivate why is should consider you after all. Remember, you are up against candidates with CVs that look like a more "logical" fit. Is there a weird gap in your CV with a perfectly good explanation? Let me know. There are all sorts of little red flags that will be just that, red flags, if you don't explain them away. Are you currently working for a company? Then why on earth do you want to come back to academia to do a PhD? If you don't offer a plausible reason, I will just fill this in myself, and you may not like the stuff I come up with.
5. Show me who you are
Now this may not go for everybody, so don't take my word on this. But I like to see a bit of your personality shine through in a letter. We will both be better off if we get along at some level. So I'd like to get a taste of the person behind the application.
At the same time, you don't want to overdo it. This is still academia. I am not expecting 3D animations and fancy slideshows. Clean and crisp, that is still what your aiming for.
I like reading these letters, even if it takes up a lot of time. I read them carefully. I read every single line - and I read between the lines. So craft them like Rodin would craft his most precious sculpture. What am I looking for? Her are my five tips for crafting your letter of motivation.
1. You tickle my curiosity
Your LOM should convince me that I need to spend more time with you. It should invite me to really go over your CV in detail, because I get the impression that you've got something to offer that I might want. How do you do that? As I said before: the golden rule is that you should give me no reason to doubt that you would make a perfect PhD candidate. Spelling errors, grammar mistakes: get them out of the way. If I ask for you to be fluent in English, please be so when you write this letter.
2. You want me
This is not about flattery. We all know that gets you nowhere. But I do want to get the feeling that you thought about applying to this specific position. This specific lab. Of course, the worst LOMs are the ones that look like total form letters. A robot could have sent them out. They are generic. They do not mention a single detail about the advertisement. They look like they are copied and pasted from application to application.
Are you rolling eyes and saying "but I would never do such a thing"? Good. Then make sure you actually tailor your letter to this position and this job. Don't write about how awesome my University is. Or my city. Neither of those make you sound interested in what I have to offer. You don't have to sing my praise and tell me I am the smartest thing since sliced bread, but there is nothing wrong with showing that you have an inkling of an idea what I am doing right now (google my website) or have done in the past (read a paper). Tell me what you like about the job. Is it the topic? The field? The particular question? Something must have excited you, or otherwise you will not be right for this job. So tell me what that something was!
3. You make me want you
Don't repeat your CV in prose, but lift out some of the main points that make you a good candidate for this position. Does your prior education provide a seamless fit? Do you have experience with a particular model organism? Does your prior research experience make you super excited about finally working on a single question for four years? Let me know!
Of course you can also overdo it. I'm okay with your LOM being over one page in length. Really. But three pages, to the point where you are repeating yourself? That is just making me dread the editing of your future papers. Knowing when to stop is a skill in and by itself. And with that I will move on to the next point.
4. Lift my concerns
Your CV alone might confuse me. Perhaps your background doesn't sound like the perfect fit. If so, take extra care to motivate why is should consider you after all. Remember, you are up against candidates with CVs that look like a more "logical" fit. Is there a weird gap in your CV with a perfectly good explanation? Let me know. There are all sorts of little red flags that will be just that, red flags, if you don't explain them away. Are you currently working for a company? Then why on earth do you want to come back to academia to do a PhD? If you don't offer a plausible reason, I will just fill this in myself, and you may not like the stuff I come up with.
5. Show me who you are
Now this may not go for everybody, so don't take my word on this. But I like to see a bit of your personality shine through in a letter. We will both be better off if we get along at some level. So I'd like to get a taste of the person behind the application.
At the same time, you don't want to overdo it. This is still academia. I am not expecting 3D animations and fancy slideshows. Clean and crisp, that is still what your aiming for.
Tips on how (not) to apply for a PhD position (1)
I know that things work differently elsewhere. I know that in the US you apply to grad school and then you rotate in different labs and during that first year you identify your mentor and your lab. But in my (European) neck of the woods, things work differently. You apply for a PhD position like you would for any other job: straight at the source (i.e. me).
Positions only open up when a PI gets a grant - so that is completely unpredictable. As a result, the positions are not always (I should say hardly ever) in sync with the academic cycle in which most students obtain their university degree at the end of the summer/some time in the fall. This is tough for the job candidates, but also for the PI. There is no predicting how many people will respond, or what their background is. As I was making my way through the applications for my latest opening, it dawned on me that some of the applicants could have used some advise. Because believe me, I don't take some sadistic pleasure in rejecting you.
So let me start with saying this: I read all of your applications. I read your letter of motivation and I read your CV. I don't scan all of the gazillions of transcripts and certificates and letters of recommendation that you send in at this point. But in the end, I am looking for the best fit for my lab. I need to get the impression that you want this position. And that you want me. Because that makes me want you. Yes, it is a little bit like falling in love: We are going to spend a lot of time together. We'll hopefully have fun (if we fit well together), but we will also are going to have to stick it out when things get rough. And so I need to know that you are going to be in it for better and for worse. So how are you going to woo me?
1. The numbers are not in your favour
From actual, real-life experience I can now safely say that it is not uncommon for the number of applicants to be somewhere in the 90s or even 100s. So follow the instructions (honestly, if you don't follow the instructions for how to apply, how am I going to be convinced that you will be able to follow a protocol?) If I ask for a single PDF file, don't send me zip archive. A cover letter in which you say absolutely nothing about the project or the type of research we are doing? It doesn't land you on the right pile. Don't propose projects that have absolutely nothing to do with what is going on in my lab. Don't call me a sir when a little bit of googling could have pointed out that I'm a woman. In fact, why don't you just address me as Dr? If your background is a poor fit, but you want this more than anything else in life: explain why and convince me of that (it happens!). If you graduated more than a year (or even many more years) ago: Convince me why I should hire you instead of the recent graduate - or even the soon about to graduate eager student. (More about the cover letter at a later point.)
Think about the other stuff that you send along. A letter of recommendation (which I did not ask for at this point) that was written 2-3 years ago will not help. It will do the exact opposite. The fact that your English isn't perfect? The fact that you made a spelling mistake? The fact that stuff on your CV is misaligned? I guess you could call me a nitpicker. But hey, you are applying for a job as a PhD student. You were (hopefully) trained as a scientist. I expect you to be specific and precise. I also expect your lab notebook to be in order. I expect you to pay attention to detail in your experiments. Of course I am not purpously screening your application for little mistakes like this, but I do notice them. If everything else in our application is perfect (your background and overall fit, your cover letter), I will not reject your application right away based on a tiny error. But among those 99 other applicants there are going to be 5-10 people who get it right (on top of everything else). And that is the absolute maximum of people I can realistically invite over for an interview anyway. So don't blow your own chances. Make sure you don't end up on the maybe pile. These little mistakes are totally preventable. Get it right. Don't give me any reason to doubt that you would make an awesome scientist in my lab.
So here is my first and most important piece of advice: You cannot change who you are and what your background is, but be the best version of you!
2. Know what you are up against
Based on a poor cover letter, lots of question marks surrounding parts of the CV, and/or just an overall poor fit, I can usually reject 50-60% of all applicants after the first round of reading. This is still not an easy decision. When I was looking for my very first PhD student, I lost sleep over this, as a matter of fact. There were so many letters from ambitious people all over the world, many of them looking for better chances than they would ever get in their home country. It felt like I was personally responsible for crushing their dreams. Have I gotten all cold and heartless? No. I still remember what it was like to be at the other end of the table. Hell, I am still fighting every single day to even make it to the end of this tenure track. I too am still waiting for the powers that be to give me their vote of confidence.
But what I did come to realize over the past three years is that this is just the situation we are dealing with. I have a single opening, for one PhD position. That means I am ultimately going to reject all but one of you. Even the runner up. So that is the best you can aim for at this point: your application should be so spotless and on the mark that I cannot help but invite you over for an interview. And here, some may have a more difficult job then others. After all, I know the education system in my own country like the back of my hand. I can judge the knowledge and experience of the people quite easily. I can also be pretty sure that they won't get homesick because they are far away from home. That they know our academic system and culture.
Now most of the time, after this first round of reading, I will have at least 3-5 "local" people that look perfect on paper and that would probably make a fine PhD student on this project. They did everything right. They got excellent grades for their research internships (and I can easily judge that, because I know the grading system). They showed that they are ambitious and adventurous (by going abroad for an internship, for instance, or by doing extracurricular activities or by taking an donors program). I've gotten angry e-mails from applicants who said it "wasn't fair" that these people were always getting the jobs. But my lab is not a charity foundation. Science is a tough business. Even the best and the brightest will be having a hard time. And unless someone can convince me otherwise, the best indicator for future success is someone who did a great job in their research internships. So by all means, if your score/grade is above average (in whatever grading system your country uses - and please explain it to me if you are from another country): mention it! I like modest people, but now is not the time to be shy. If you decided to do an internship with a company, tell me why. I could see that as an indicator that you are not 100% committed to academic science. Which is what you need to be, if you want to get a PhD. It's as simple as that.
What I do NOT care about at this point is publications. We all know that these are not an indicator of future success. Landing a publication during one of your internships has more to do with luck than anything else. For all I care you collected nothing but negative results (I know I did, during my first internship). I also do not care whether you are already familiar with the specific techniques we are going to use in this project. Any good scientist can learn new techniques. What I want to see is that you are that scientist.
So what do I care about? Persistence. Enthusiasm. Curiosity. Passion. Because those are traits that will get you through the deep dark valleys of your PhD. And so these are the things that I am going to look for in those remaining 30-40 applications that are now on the "maybe" pile, so that I can add 3 or 4 of them to my "invite for an interview" list. And now you can already see that the tiny little things are going to make a difference. You might just be unlucky because among those 40 candidates, one or two may be completely familiar with the experimental techniques. Or they may already have some of the certificates needed to do the type of work we do. There is nothing you can do about that. Sometimes, science sucks.
to be continued
if anyone has any specific questions, please ask them in the comments!
Positions only open up when a PI gets a grant - so that is completely unpredictable. As a result, the positions are not always (I should say hardly ever) in sync with the academic cycle in which most students obtain their university degree at the end of the summer/some time in the fall. This is tough for the job candidates, but also for the PI. There is no predicting how many people will respond, or what their background is. As I was making my way through the applications for my latest opening, it dawned on me that some of the applicants could have used some advise. Because believe me, I don't take some sadistic pleasure in rejecting you.
So let me start with saying this: I read all of your applications. I read your letter of motivation and I read your CV. I don't scan all of the gazillions of transcripts and certificates and letters of recommendation that you send in at this point. But in the end, I am looking for the best fit for my lab. I need to get the impression that you want this position. And that you want me. Because that makes me want you. Yes, it is a little bit like falling in love: We are going to spend a lot of time together. We'll hopefully have fun (if we fit well together), but we will also are going to have to stick it out when things get rough. And so I need to know that you are going to be in it for better and for worse. So how are you going to woo me?
1. The numbers are not in your favour
From actual, real-life experience I can now safely say that it is not uncommon for the number of applicants to be somewhere in the 90s or even 100s. So follow the instructions (honestly, if you don't follow the instructions for how to apply, how am I going to be convinced that you will be able to follow a protocol?) If I ask for a single PDF file, don't send me zip archive. A cover letter in which you say absolutely nothing about the project or the type of research we are doing? It doesn't land you on the right pile. Don't propose projects that have absolutely nothing to do with what is going on in my lab. Don't call me a sir when a little bit of googling could have pointed out that I'm a woman. In fact, why don't you just address me as Dr? If your background is a poor fit, but you want this more than anything else in life: explain why and convince me of that (it happens!). If you graduated more than a year (or even many more years) ago: Convince me why I should hire you instead of the recent graduate - or even the soon about to graduate eager student. (More about the cover letter at a later point.)
Think about the other stuff that you send along. A letter of recommendation (which I did not ask for at this point) that was written 2-3 years ago will not help. It will do the exact opposite. The fact that your English isn't perfect? The fact that you made a spelling mistake? The fact that stuff on your CV is misaligned? I guess you could call me a nitpicker. But hey, you are applying for a job as a PhD student. You were (hopefully) trained as a scientist. I expect you to be specific and precise. I also expect your lab notebook to be in order. I expect you to pay attention to detail in your experiments. Of course I am not purpously screening your application for little mistakes like this, but I do notice them. If everything else in our application is perfect (your background and overall fit, your cover letter), I will not reject your application right away based on a tiny error. But among those 99 other applicants there are going to be 5-10 people who get it right (on top of everything else). And that is the absolute maximum of people I can realistically invite over for an interview anyway. So don't blow your own chances. Make sure you don't end up on the maybe pile. These little mistakes are totally preventable. Get it right. Don't give me any reason to doubt that you would make an awesome scientist in my lab.
So here is my first and most important piece of advice: You cannot change who you are and what your background is, but be the best version of you!
2. Know what you are up against
Based on a poor cover letter, lots of question marks surrounding parts of the CV, and/or just an overall poor fit, I can usually reject 50-60% of all applicants after the first round of reading. This is still not an easy decision. When I was looking for my very first PhD student, I lost sleep over this, as a matter of fact. There were so many letters from ambitious people all over the world, many of them looking for better chances than they would ever get in their home country. It felt like I was personally responsible for crushing their dreams. Have I gotten all cold and heartless? No. I still remember what it was like to be at the other end of the table. Hell, I am still fighting every single day to even make it to the end of this tenure track. I too am still waiting for the powers that be to give me their vote of confidence.
But what I did come to realize over the past three years is that this is just the situation we are dealing with. I have a single opening, for one PhD position. That means I am ultimately going to reject all but one of you. Even the runner up. So that is the best you can aim for at this point: your application should be so spotless and on the mark that I cannot help but invite you over for an interview. And here, some may have a more difficult job then others. After all, I know the education system in my own country like the back of my hand. I can judge the knowledge and experience of the people quite easily. I can also be pretty sure that they won't get homesick because they are far away from home. That they know our academic system and culture.
Now most of the time, after this first round of reading, I will have at least 3-5 "local" people that look perfect on paper and that would probably make a fine PhD student on this project. They did everything right. They got excellent grades for their research internships (and I can easily judge that, because I know the grading system). They showed that they are ambitious and adventurous (by going abroad for an internship, for instance, or by doing extracurricular activities or by taking an donors program). I've gotten angry e-mails from applicants who said it "wasn't fair" that these people were always getting the jobs. But my lab is not a charity foundation. Science is a tough business. Even the best and the brightest will be having a hard time. And unless someone can convince me otherwise, the best indicator for future success is someone who did a great job in their research internships. So by all means, if your score/grade is above average (in whatever grading system your country uses - and please explain it to me if you are from another country): mention it! I like modest people, but now is not the time to be shy. If you decided to do an internship with a company, tell me why. I could see that as an indicator that you are not 100% committed to academic science. Which is what you need to be, if you want to get a PhD. It's as simple as that.
What I do NOT care about at this point is publications. We all know that these are not an indicator of future success. Landing a publication during one of your internships has more to do with luck than anything else. For all I care you collected nothing but negative results (I know I did, during my first internship). I also do not care whether you are already familiar with the specific techniques we are going to use in this project. Any good scientist can learn new techniques. What I want to see is that you are that scientist.
So what do I care about? Persistence. Enthusiasm. Curiosity. Passion. Because those are traits that will get you through the deep dark valleys of your PhD. And so these are the things that I am going to look for in those remaining 30-40 applications that are now on the "maybe" pile, so that I can add 3 or 4 of them to my "invite for an interview" list. And now you can already see that the tiny little things are going to make a difference. You might just be unlucky because among those 40 candidates, one or two may be completely familiar with the experimental techniques. Or they may already have some of the certificates needed to do the type of work we do. There is nothing you can do about that. Sometimes, science sucks.
to be continued
if anyone has any specific questions, please ask them in the comments!
Erasure
So far, this academic year has mainly been filled with teaching. It feels as if there is barely any time for actual research (reading and writing) - although I have scheduled it into my calendar. I'm afraid that the next step really is going to have to be to actually block a few hours at the start of every day to actually get started and write. There are simply too many interruptions to actually dive into a topic and focus in depth.
On the bright side, though...
... I can't believe I actually managed to achieve it, but I have officially erased all of the weight I put on during the first half of my tenure track (yup, that would be a whopping 10 kg). Now that taking care of my body is slowly becoming a habit (I know they say it takes about 28 days), I can now start to spend energy on writing and getting projects to the next stage. Because I must confess that with all the time I spend
I did fall off the wagon a few times.
There was that one weekend when I only had three days to write an entire grant proposal, because I had been too busy teaching to get started earlier. That means I was stuck in a chair behind my computer (something that I naturally happen to be quite good at - I have an amazing attention span and can work for 15 hour straight without any distraction). I wrote the entire grant in two 15 hour sessions, getting 9 hours of sleep every night - and eating mindlessly whatever was available in my immediate surroundings. But I made up for it by going for a few walks (including a really long hike) in the week after.
There was also that one week where all my Apps told me I had PMS. And so I ate more chocolate than anticipated. Until I asked myself: "Wait a minute, am I eating chocolate because I feel like eating chocolate, or because I know I'm supposed to be craving chocolate right now"? Ah, technology. I got my period the next day, when I had to teach an early morning class. It was a question of either packing my lunch (like a well organised professional) or of attempting to do everything in my power (hot water bottle, pills, shower, heating pads) to alleviate my cramps so I could actually stand up. I chose the later and survived the day on apples and Quakers oats bars.
All in all, it could have been a lot worse. And so I am on to the next stage, which is losing the weight I packed on while being on the tenure track job market.
Remember how I was going to take better care of myself?
The first weight has come off (sadly this is not even a third of what I need to lose in order to reach a healthy weight if you believe in BMI indices), I haven't missed a single day of sticking to my food plan (which includes bringing my own lunch every day and cooking dinner every day), I've almost gotten it into my system that I tam a person who takes stairs instead of elevators (at least when we are talking about <3 floors) and I feel so much better! I even survived my first conference abroad (and still lost weight while traveling - a first if ever there was one).
I also sleep. A lot.
Just in case you are wondering: Yes, I have also managed to purge my e-mail inbox and I still keep to the not checking e-mail before lunch rule. I am probably boring as hell, because I don't really drink or eat cake or hang around in the break room to lament everything that's wrong with science and academia, but I just need to get my shit done so I can then go back to focusing on me.
Honestly, I don't know where I found this drive and motivation, but I am hanging onto it for dear life for as long as I can... while I anxiously await The Moment when A Major Stressful Event is going to wreak havoc on my good intentions. Until then: steady as she goes - because even if I don't get tenure, at the end of this track I will at least have got my shit together.
Could it really be this easy to publish our first paper?
This week we resubmitted the revised version of what I will call "My Very First Paper" (MVFP). The review reports were pretty positive and although the editors always find a way to phrase their decision so that it lacks anything that could be perceived as enthusiasm, I think it's safe to say that with the minor changes we made, MVFP should find a home (one where the door is always open) any time soon.
As a PhD and postdoc I have always been in charge of my own paper writing. Even as a PhD student my PI would let me oversee the submission process - including cover letter and rebuttal stuff, so I have been through all of this many times before. MVFP won't even be my first senior authorship paper. Still it feels special.
Why?
Because this is the very first story/study that came out of my own lab from absolute scratch. Where the idea was completely my own and where the hard work of my PhD student ultimately brought it to the point where we decided that this would be a story rather than a dead end street. Where we muddled through the analyses of data that seemed to be going in all directions (welcome to biology) until somewhere along the writing of the draft manuscript and the re-re-re-reanalysis (and re-re-re-replotting) of the data it all fell into place and the message actually turned out to be solid.
The message is not going to be earth-shattering. The paper is not going to be life-changing. In some big shot labs this would maybe remain on the shelf. But it will be helpful for people in my field though (in terms of our findings), as well as for a larger audience (in terms of our experimental approach). And so I feel proud. Because MVFP is the most solid evidence of my own maturity as a scientist. I know collaborations are important, but I also knew that I could bring stuff to the finish line in such a collaborative setting, with lots of back and forth discussions and brainstorming with others. This time I was the most senior scientist on board and completely responsible for everything from start to finish. And so, for that reason I am excited that we brought this little seedling to life, let it blossom and saw it to a safe harbour (at least, that is what the review reports and the editors comments appear to suggest).
As a PhD and postdoc I have always been in charge of my own paper writing. Even as a PhD student my PI would let me oversee the submission process - including cover letter and rebuttal stuff, so I have been through all of this many times before. MVFP won't even be my first senior authorship paper. Still it feels special.
Why?
Because this is the very first story/study that came out of my own lab from absolute scratch. Where the idea was completely my own and where the hard work of my PhD student ultimately brought it to the point where we decided that this would be a story rather than a dead end street. Where we muddled through the analyses of data that seemed to be going in all directions (welcome to biology) until somewhere along the writing of the draft manuscript and the re-re-re-reanalysis (and re-re-re-replotting) of the data it all fell into place and the message actually turned out to be solid.
The message is not going to be earth-shattering. The paper is not going to be life-changing. In some big shot labs this would maybe remain on the shelf. But it will be helpful for people in my field though (in terms of our findings), as well as for a larger audience (in terms of our experimental approach). And so I feel proud. Because MVFP is the most solid evidence of my own maturity as a scientist. I know collaborations are important, but I also knew that I could bring stuff to the finish line in such a collaborative setting, with lots of back and forth discussions and brainstorming with others. This time I was the most senior scientist on board and completely responsible for everything from start to finish. And so, for that reason I am excited that we brought this little seedling to life, let it blossom and saw it to a safe harbour (at least, that is what the review reports and the editors comments appear to suggest).
How do you push people without pushing?
What do you do when it appears that someone has just sort of levelled off in their academic growth? They get the work done, they make progress in their experiments, but their academic development into an independent, critical scientist just isn't taking off?
In those cases, I give feedback whenever the opportunity presents itself, but I try to do it nicely - because I am afraid that I will completely turn them off and/or demotivate them if I'm too harsh. I will point out areas that need improvement - over and over again, but for some reason it's as if they just don't get it. (There are others in the lab that do pick up on these things and I can see that they slowly progress as they become more critical, so it is not something inherent to my overall mentoring, I don't think)
Should I just accept that that's what it is? That some people might just never reach the next level that would qualify them for continuing on in science (mind you, I am by no means of the opinion that that is what everybody should aspire to - we have enough postdocs without the prospect of an academic career-, but as a PI and supervisor it is my job to make sure that come graduation, all PhD students are well equipped to be an independent scientist if they so choose)? Apart from letting them try over and over again (and then showing what holes they missed, which critical steps they omitted, which specifics they just skipped.... over and over again), what can I do? I feel like a broken record, but perhaps I'm playing the wrong song.
In those cases, I give feedback whenever the opportunity presents itself, but I try to do it nicely - because I am afraid that I will completely turn them off and/or demotivate them if I'm too harsh. I will point out areas that need improvement - over and over again, but for some reason it's as if they just don't get it. (There are others in the lab that do pick up on these things and I can see that they slowly progress as they become more critical, so it is not something inherent to my overall mentoring, I don't think)
Should I just accept that that's what it is? That some people might just never reach the next level that would qualify them for continuing on in science (mind you, I am by no means of the opinion that that is what everybody should aspire to - we have enough postdocs without the prospect of an academic career-, but as a PI and supervisor it is my job to make sure that come graduation, all PhD students are well equipped to be an independent scientist if they so choose)? Apart from letting them try over and over again (and then showing what holes they missed, which critical steps they omitted, which specifics they just skipped.... over and over again), what can I do? I feel like a broken record, but perhaps I'm playing the wrong song.
What do you say?
Two examples.
Exhibit A
I was talking to a guy my age for the first time. We were exploring future opportunities and without going into details, suffice it to see that I had the upper hand. He needed more from me, than I did from him. And at some point during our conversation he let it slip that I'd probably do just fine in my TT "because you're a woman". My calm response was that while agreed that I would likely be successful, I personally assumed that it was due to quality of my work. I am not sure if he noticed his faux pas at all. It just seemed to slip out and my reply didn't really seem to raise awareness either.
Exhibit B
I was teaching a class and one of the male students commented how this specific topic was really a "women's field". I asked him what he meant by that and he pointed out that I (thanks for noticing) and all of the TAs (all members of my lab) were women. I replied that sometimes it was just hard to find good men (okay this was probably not the best thing to blurt out, but this was my attempt at responding to a weird comment with a joke) and then went on to explain that when you hire people, you just hire the best ones you can get for a job and by chance, all of my recent hires had been women (looking back I wish I had expanded a little more and explained that in any team it is always best to strive for a balance/mix of people with different qualities, sex being one of them - or that based on an n=4-5 you cannot make sweeping statements about a hole field).
So my question is: what do you do in situations like these? I feel like I am always more prepared when I talk to older men. It's like I am almost expecting them to be unaware of women-in-science issues and so it is easy to point out why their assumptions are wrong, or whether they are missing something. In fact, that is also how it often is (at least in my experience) with older men: it's more of a lack of awareness than an outright sexist comment. But I am always caught off guard when it is people my own age (or as in the students' case, half my age!) that make these comments, which touch upon male/female scientist issues quite directly. It depresses me that apparently the bias against women is not going to magically disappear when the older generation retires: it is just as present in the ones to come.
I feel like I should take each of these opportunities to raise awareness, yet I also don't want to become some feminist warrior with a label attached. But how can you change things if you don't openly address them? You don't want to make these things bigger than they are, obviously, but at the same time, they offer room for discussion. Would the male student also have made a similar comment if I and all of the TAs had been male? Would he have said "wow, this is really a male topic"? Would it be okay to let someone know that telling me I'll have a job just because I'm a woman that this is a rude and insulting thing to say?
So help me out here. What do YOU do in moments like these? And what would be the best? Do I let it slide so nothing ever changes? Or is "in the moment" not necessarily always the best moment? Do I collect these stories and instances so that at some point I have a small "awareness lecture" that I can pop in at the start of one of my classes?
How the first half of my tenure track nearly destroyed me and what I plan to do about that in the second half
I did not do any work for the majority of August. Instead, I decided to focus on me. It's easy to put everything first: the peeps in my lab, colleagues, students, Big Problems, Small Problems, Urgent Issues. I've been getting a lot of feedback that I should perhaps care less about certain things and not try to fix everything. Part of me thinks these people are right and part of me doesn't agree. On the one hand, it is easy to waste a lot of energy on things that are outside of my circle of influence. On the other hand, I have always cared about my surroundings and the people in it and I also derive some joy or satisfaction from listening to people and advising them or nudging them towards the next step en route to their problem solution. But after collapsing on the couch like an imploded zombie, I had to admit to myself that if I keep on doing what I am doing (working all the time, not taking proper care of my body), I may not even make it to the end of the tenure track.
In the end I am surprised with how little soul searching it actually took. I just needed to step away from work. I was obviously exhausted, out of energy and did not feel good about that. Rationally, I knew I was caught in a trap of sedation, chronic stress and unhealthy eating habits. For some reason, that had always seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to tackle. And then it just happened. I decided that I was so sick and tired of not having this one fundamental aspect of my life under control, that I just started. I made a plan. A concrete plan. With how much weight I needed to lose (ouch) in order to reach a healthy weight. With a time schedule that would basically give me a whole year to reach that goal. With a healthy diet (as in food plan, not as in depriving myself of everything that's good). With moderate exercise (the minute I realized that walking also counted as exercise I already felt less guilty about not going to the gym). I dusted off my Fitbit (I really, really like that thing). I put new batteries in my scale. I made an Excel spreadsheet to track my progress. And then I just started at step one.
Then the best thing happened: I went on a holiday, all by myself. And I lucked out: the weather in my Holiday Country was better then expected. And whereas I had planned to do a lot of writing and reading, I decided that I could just not sit inside when I was surrounded by so much nature and sunshine. So I started walking. And I found out that my body, which had basically been stuck behind a desk for two plus years, was capable of so much more than I had given it credit for. That I was capable of so much more. And so it turned into a solo hiking holiday where it was just me, the great outdoors and a map. Where the only decisions I had to take were extremely basic: did I bring enough water and where shall I put down my foot. It was an eye-opening and transformative experience.
I've been back for a week now. The first weight has come off. I've also gone back to work, but I am still eating healthy, packing my own lunches and trying to squeeze in an evening walk when I get home. Part of me is scared to death that as soon as the Old Madness returns (my class starts tomorrow, all of my colleagues will be back, all of the old to do lists are still there, only with a few things added) I will fall off the wagon again. But I cannot let that part win out.
Funny enough, I have noted a few unexpected changes: As I am eating healthier and cooking, I also have more energy to clean the house. Which means that for the first time in twenty years, my apartment actually looks like a home instead of like a shag occupied by a hoarding bachelor. I am actually loading the dishwasher every day, instead of letting stuff pile up in the sink. I stop staring at screens at 11 pm and go to bed, preferably a little earlier, with a book. Sure, I've managed to miss basically everything that's on tv, but it does allow me to get up at 7 am relatively rested and I consider that a pro.
Here are the changes I've made at work so far:
- Last year I implemented a strict division between Teaching/Admin and Science. I am continuing that this year. Monday is my main teaching day (including office hours). It's when I will do prep work, meet with students, read and score reports, etc. I will allow this to run into Tuesday if needed. The same holds for Admin/Service related tasks: I try to keep these limited to a Tuesday, with some going into Monday if meeting schedules etc. require. This coming year I will be super protective of my research time (Wed-Fri). This is when I am only meeting with my own lab peeps, where I will read, write (papers/grants). I try to keep it as free of other meetings/obligations (of course some classes and outside events are impossible to move) as possible - because I need to focus on getting output for the second half of my tenure track.
- I jumped off the e-mail train. I changed the preferences of checking e-mail "automatically" to "manually". And I stopped checking it first thing in the morning, as well as on Saturdays. I now check e-mail for the first time around noon and once more around 6pm. Oh and I have also begun purging my inboxes, which had thousands of e-mails in there. In two weeks time (I am scheduling the purge into small sessions over my lunch break), I will have an empty inbox.
- I leave on time so I can cook dinner at a reasonable hour. I still feel a little guilty, but I also think that "setting an example" does not mean that I always have to be in the lab. In a way, this should be the easiest time in my career to take off in time, because I am not stopped by late-running experiments. I've done the 12-13 hour days in the lab and there may be times when it's required again, but I cannot be on all the time. I also need to be alive and sharp in order to be there for my lab peeps. So at least until the weight that needs to come off is off, this is how it is going to be.
In the end I am surprised with how little soul searching it actually took. I just needed to step away from work. I was obviously exhausted, out of energy and did not feel good about that. Rationally, I knew I was caught in a trap of sedation, chronic stress and unhealthy eating habits. For some reason, that had always seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to tackle. And then it just happened. I decided that I was so sick and tired of not having this one fundamental aspect of my life under control, that I just started. I made a plan. A concrete plan. With how much weight I needed to lose (ouch) in order to reach a healthy weight. With a time schedule that would basically give me a whole year to reach that goal. With a healthy diet (as in food plan, not as in depriving myself of everything that's good). With moderate exercise (the minute I realized that walking also counted as exercise I already felt less guilty about not going to the gym). I dusted off my Fitbit (I really, really like that thing). I put new batteries in my scale. I made an Excel spreadsheet to track my progress. And then I just started at step one.
Then the best thing happened: I went on a holiday, all by myself. And I lucked out: the weather in my Holiday Country was better then expected. And whereas I had planned to do a lot of writing and reading, I decided that I could just not sit inside when I was surrounded by so much nature and sunshine. So I started walking. And I found out that my body, which had basically been stuck behind a desk for two plus years, was capable of so much more than I had given it credit for. That I was capable of so much more. And so it turned into a solo hiking holiday where it was just me, the great outdoors and a map. Where the only decisions I had to take were extremely basic: did I bring enough water and where shall I put down my foot. It was an eye-opening and transformative experience.
I've been back for a week now. The first weight has come off. I've also gone back to work, but I am still eating healthy, packing my own lunches and trying to squeeze in an evening walk when I get home. Part of me is scared to death that as soon as the Old Madness returns (my class starts tomorrow, all of my colleagues will be back, all of the old to do lists are still there, only with a few things added) I will fall off the wagon again. But I cannot let that part win out.
Funny enough, I have noted a few unexpected changes: As I am eating healthier and cooking, I also have more energy to clean the house. Which means that for the first time in twenty years, my apartment actually looks like a home instead of like a shag occupied by a hoarding bachelor. I am actually loading the dishwasher every day, instead of letting stuff pile up in the sink. I stop staring at screens at 11 pm and go to bed, preferably a little earlier, with a book. Sure, I've managed to miss basically everything that's on tv, but it does allow me to get up at 7 am relatively rested and I consider that a pro.
Here are the changes I've made at work so far:
- Last year I implemented a strict division between Teaching/Admin and Science. I am continuing that this year. Monday is my main teaching day (including office hours). It's when I will do prep work, meet with students, read and score reports, etc. I will allow this to run into Tuesday if needed. The same holds for Admin/Service related tasks: I try to keep these limited to a Tuesday, with some going into Monday if meeting schedules etc. require. This coming year I will be super protective of my research time (Wed-Fri). This is when I am only meeting with my own lab peeps, where I will read, write (papers/grants). I try to keep it as free of other meetings/obligations (of course some classes and outside events are impossible to move) as possible - because I need to focus on getting output for the second half of my tenure track.
- I jumped off the e-mail train. I changed the preferences of checking e-mail "automatically" to "manually". And I stopped checking it first thing in the morning, as well as on Saturdays. I now check e-mail for the first time around noon and once more around 6pm. Oh and I have also begun purging my inboxes, which had thousands of e-mails in there. In two weeks time (I am scheduling the purge into small sessions over my lunch break), I will have an empty inbox.
- I leave on time so I can cook dinner at a reasonable hour. I still feel a little guilty, but I also think that "setting an example" does not mean that I always have to be in the lab. In a way, this should be the easiest time in my career to take off in time, because I am not stopped by late-running experiments. I've done the 12-13 hour days in the lab and there may be times when it's required again, but I cannot be on all the time. I also need to be alive and sharp in order to be there for my lab peeps. So at least until the weight that needs to come off is off, this is how it is going to be.
Confession time
I took a few weeks off. I told everyone I needed a break. That I needed to catch my breath. That I've been too busy. Reality is, I am completely and utterly exhausted. I feel drained. No, that's not really true. I don't feel anything anymore and I haven't for a very, very long time. I have only been working. I have been working my ass off ever since I started high school because I always wanted to be the best. I don't know why. To please myself? To please my parents? To make up for the fact that I have always known I was socially awkward and fat? I don't know. Everybody has issues and these are mine.
It could have been much much worse. I know I have been lucky. I come from a loving home. I had four grandparents until well into my thirties. I was born in a great time and in a first world country. It could have been so much worse. But in reality all I have is work. I am alone and while I am perfectly happy about that, I am reaching a point where I really miss talking to someone. My parents are getting older. I cannot keep confiding in them. And I also cannot really tell them everything because some things are just too private. And maybe it's not true that having a significant other person in my life would make things easier. But my hopelessly romantic heart yearns for a soulmate.
I am a scientist. I know I don't deserve anything. That all of this is happening as sheer coincidence and that I am just a little speck of organised matter in the midst of great chaos. But there are times when I wish I had done everything differently. When I wish I would've have had my teenage nose anywhere else than in books and movies. That I had lived a life instead of dreaming about it. That I had taken better care of myself. That somebody had taught me how to do that instead of algebra.
The real problem is that at this point I don't even know how to do that anymore. I don't know how to eat properly. I don't have any fixed schedules because there is just always me and so it has never mattered when I eat, when I sleep and when I don't clean. I have no structure. I pour all of my control into work and it has gotten me to where I am, but I have lost all control over my own life and over my body. I know I have eaten like a slob. I haven't enjoyed a bite of food in forever, no matter what I have been shoving down my throat on those late nights when I come home from work at 10pm.
When I started this job I was already heavy, but in the past two and a half years I have gained 13 kilos. All the statistics tell me I am obese. My mom has told me she is worried. I hate myself but I don't know how to start fixing it. I am scared to get help, but I know I need it. My house is a mess because I don't think it is big enough to hire a cleaner. So how sad is it to go to someone who is going to have to teach me how to eat properly and how to take care of myself? I feel like such a loser, but I know something has to change because I have not been happy in a long time and I cannot keep hiding in books and movies.
I can blame it all on stress, lack of exercise and poor eating habits. And I know that I have nobody to blame but myself, but at some point along the way I have just stopped caring. I stopped caring about my body ever since I was bullied in elementary school. Ever since the family physician said it was just how I was built. Ever since I noticed I was not popular with boys. Ever since strangers called me fat or ugly or just looked at me like I was. Rationally I know it is never too late. And rationally I know it has to stop. But when my parents call me I just tell them I am okay. I always tell everybody I am okay. But I am not. I am stuck in a body that I have loathed for as long as I can remember and that I cannot blame anybody else for not loving either. I have spent the best years of my life hating myself, and I have dealt with that by just completely neglecting myself. I don't know how that is even possible because I am a huge control freak in every other area of my life. I have so many talents that I know other people admire. So I always sort of thought that maybe this was my one weakness. But it is starting to get in my way. And I really want to feel again. I want to fall in love and experience heartbreak and live. But I just don't know how to fix this - if I have never found a way to fix it before, how can I possibly fix it now when even with 120% of my energy focused on work there is not enough time to do everything I need to do?
It could have been much much worse. I know I have been lucky. I come from a loving home. I had four grandparents until well into my thirties. I was born in a great time and in a first world country. It could have been so much worse. But in reality all I have is work. I am alone and while I am perfectly happy about that, I am reaching a point where I really miss talking to someone. My parents are getting older. I cannot keep confiding in them. And I also cannot really tell them everything because some things are just too private. And maybe it's not true that having a significant other person in my life would make things easier. But my hopelessly romantic heart yearns for a soulmate.
I am a scientist. I know I don't deserve anything. That all of this is happening as sheer coincidence and that I am just a little speck of organised matter in the midst of great chaos. But there are times when I wish I had done everything differently. When I wish I would've have had my teenage nose anywhere else than in books and movies. That I had lived a life instead of dreaming about it. That I had taken better care of myself. That somebody had taught me how to do that instead of algebra.
The real problem is that at this point I don't even know how to do that anymore. I don't know how to eat properly. I don't have any fixed schedules because there is just always me and so it has never mattered when I eat, when I sleep and when I don't clean. I have no structure. I pour all of my control into work and it has gotten me to where I am, but I have lost all control over my own life and over my body. I know I have eaten like a slob. I haven't enjoyed a bite of food in forever, no matter what I have been shoving down my throat on those late nights when I come home from work at 10pm.
When I started this job I was already heavy, but in the past two and a half years I have gained 13 kilos. All the statistics tell me I am obese. My mom has told me she is worried. I hate myself but I don't know how to start fixing it. I am scared to get help, but I know I need it. My house is a mess because I don't think it is big enough to hire a cleaner. So how sad is it to go to someone who is going to have to teach me how to eat properly and how to take care of myself? I feel like such a loser, but I know something has to change because I have not been happy in a long time and I cannot keep hiding in books and movies.
I can blame it all on stress, lack of exercise and poor eating habits. And I know that I have nobody to blame but myself, but at some point along the way I have just stopped caring. I stopped caring about my body ever since I was bullied in elementary school. Ever since the family physician said it was just how I was built. Ever since I noticed I was not popular with boys. Ever since strangers called me fat or ugly or just looked at me like I was. Rationally I know it is never too late. And rationally I know it has to stop. But when my parents call me I just tell them I am okay. I always tell everybody I am okay. But I am not. I am stuck in a body that I have loathed for as long as I can remember and that I cannot blame anybody else for not loving either. I have spent the best years of my life hating myself, and I have dealt with that by just completely neglecting myself. I don't know how that is even possible because I am a huge control freak in every other area of my life. I have so many talents that I know other people admire. So I always sort of thought that maybe this was my one weakness. But it is starting to get in my way. And I really want to feel again. I want to fall in love and experience heartbreak and live. But I just don't know how to fix this - if I have never found a way to fix it before, how can I possibly fix it now when even with 120% of my energy focused on work there is not enough time to do everything I need to do?
To do and not done
Instead of doing everything on my Very Urgent to-do list, I gave up and
- went for a walk
- looked at the sky
- read two newspapers
- went to bed with an awesome book at 4.45 pm only to fall asleep until 6.30 pm
- watched five movies
I will never tell anyone about this weekend because it doesn't make me look like a science rockstar, but I really needed it. I should have actually gotten out of the house more, which I totally would have had time for as evidenced by the fact that I watched five movies and one of them was Twilight.
- went for a walk
- looked at the sky
- read two newspapers
- went to bed with an awesome book at 4.45 pm only to fall asleep until 6.30 pm
- watched five movies
I will never tell anyone about this weekend because it doesn't make me look like a science rockstar, but I really needed it. I should have actually gotten out of the house more, which I totally would have had time for as evidenced by the fact that I watched five movies and one of them was Twilight.
Abonneren op:
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