I have reached the point in my tenure track where I really need to start thinking about output. It's not that I haven't been doing that, obviously. Believe me, the first 2.5 years have been no picnic. While I continuously try to think of this whole business as a really long postdoc (after all, my 6-year tenure track contract is the longest I've ever head), I also know that I cannot just ignore the fine print. After all, my contract stipulates quite precisely (or, if you want to know my real opinion: my contract lists everything I need to achieve in order to get tenure down to the last insane decimal in terms of impact factors) what I need to achieve. On a good day, I will look at the list and be like: "well, that is what I, as an ambitious person would want to achieve anyway". On a bad day, I look at the same list and get a panic attack, because deep down I know that giving it my best just may not be good enough - in the end it is completely out of my control as to whether I get the grant or whether my paper is accepted for publication.
I have a serious mid-term assessment coming up and things are looking good (administrative surprises pending). In fact, I was ready about half a year before the scheduled date and started to prepare my package around that time because I know the bureaucracy at my University. It turns out that was wise: no one had any ideas about the procedures that needed to be followed and while everyone gave me the "oh it will be fine", no one actually gave me a hand to make sure I got to the only "fine" that counts: a positive evaluation in writing signed off by the proper, responsible person.
Would I have done things differently if it hadn't been for this mid-term assessment? No, not really. But I might have done things in a different order. I constantly got the advise: "the most important thing is to focus on your research". I am sure it was all well intended. I am sure they probably knew that I was not so naive as to think otherwise. But with demands on an X amount of teaching to be done and teaching certificate Y to be obtained and Z amount of cold-hard-cash to be brought in by the end of year three, you have very little choice to postpone course development and grant writing until your lab is up and running. What the administrative bureaucratic trolls seem to forget when they are drafting their list of bullet points is, for instance, that a course only comes around once in an academic year. Obviously, you are not magically teaching an X amount of hours in the curriculum when you are hired mid-way through the academic year. And all those people who say "you'll be fine" don't just offer you things on a gold platter. So, I used that first (incomplete) academic year to make sure I carved a niche for myself in the teaching curriculum in the second year, so that could actually fulfil X and Y by the time of my mid-term assessment. If I had not given priority to these things and had been only slightly more naive, it would have been practically impossible to meet my mid-term requirements.
Would I have been fine without doing it this way? Well, let's just say I saw what happened to another junior faculty member who didn't tick these boxes. Our tenure track is "up or out" and apparently that also holds true mid-term.
Did my research suffer? I did my best, but I am only human and if I am honest I have not been able to devote as much time to research and my awesome lab members as I wanted to. And so I am now getting to a point where I really need to make this my main priority for the second half of my tenure track. It's "up or out" and if I want to move up, the papers need to go out.
The Young Ones
I've been spending quite some time away from the lab, attending conferences and so on. It was useful to get the latest on what's going on in my field (I am a bit secluded from other going ons in my area where I am at) - but more than that, it has given me time for reflection. Not in terms of planning my next few months of work (as I had hoped) and not in terms of crystallising my thoughts for big grant proposals that are due in the coming year (as I had also hoped), but in terms of how the different generations of scientists look at academia - more precisely: how they look at academic careers.
I must say that I really tink that "my generation" (i.e. the ones that have had there labs for less than say 5-7 years) have the best of both worlds. They still remember what it's like to struggle as a postdoc, but they also know what it's like to have made that next step (something you cannot possibly completely envision if you haven't done it yet - no matter how much you prepare yourself). Now I am not patting myself and my contemporaries on the back: this is just how it is. In another 5-10 years, I will no longer really know what the current academic climate is like - although I would like to believe that I will keep up with "the real world" by interacting with the younger generations. But I'm afraid, that I will inevitably follow in the footsteps of my predecessors.
So when do you get out touch? I honestly think that after 10 years it just becomes more difficult to put yourself in the shoes of the younger generation. In the same way that you cannot relate to their music preferences and their online viral videos, you cannot really know what it is like to be in their position. Unless you try really, really hard.
Over lunch and dinner, almost invariably, professors over the age of 50 would utter phrases like "I think the young people are just to negative. We just did it, even if we didn't know where our careers would take us" (fact check: none of them spent 2 years on the TT market after a successful postdoc like I did, growing closer and closer to desperation with funding running out and no job on the horizon). They would sigh and wonder why postdocs and even PhD students are so focussed on their CV and their output, rather than on the fun of doing science (fact check: because they see people like me crash and burn, the lucky ones succeeding, but with plenty of good people not being able to build the academic career they always dreamed of).
And where do I find myself? I find myself wanting to fight a system that is overly hung up on publication output in an easy-to-check numbers game, while not taking the time to care about actual content. A system that expects me to spent ample time on teaching and outreach activities, while at the same time ultimately not rewarding those efforts because, well, high impact papers. A system that literally demands that I publish papers in high-impact journals of the CNS family (because we all know that is something that just happens when you work hard enough, right?), while at the same time pretending to promote open access. A system that I have to fit myself into if I want to get tenure in a few years, even if I keep telling myself that I will fight the system after I've passed that hurdle. But will I? Or will I ultimately fall victim to the system, and be assimilated by it? Even Jean-Luc eventually could only fight off the Borg for so long.
And as for the young ones? I tell them not to be naive. I tell them that yes, it is hard. And if their heart isn't in it for 100%, then no perhaps it is not worth the struggle. And I tell them that if they really want to be in science, that they then have to make sure they position themselves in the best possible way. But I also tell them to do science for the sake of doing science. To not build their CVs by just ticking of boxes, but by developing themselves into the scientist that they want to be. Because the system may be a rat race, but it should not be occupied by rats. It should be rebuilt by original and creative individuals, who each bring something different and unique to the table. And I hope that as long as I keep telling them that - as long as I keep telling myself that - that then, one day, the system will change.
I must say that I really tink that "my generation" (i.e. the ones that have had there labs for less than say 5-7 years) have the best of both worlds. They still remember what it's like to struggle as a postdoc, but they also know what it's like to have made that next step (something you cannot possibly completely envision if you haven't done it yet - no matter how much you prepare yourself). Now I am not patting myself and my contemporaries on the back: this is just how it is. In another 5-10 years, I will no longer really know what the current academic climate is like - although I would like to believe that I will keep up with "the real world" by interacting with the younger generations. But I'm afraid, that I will inevitably follow in the footsteps of my predecessors.
So when do you get out touch? I honestly think that after 10 years it just becomes more difficult to put yourself in the shoes of the younger generation. In the same way that you cannot relate to their music preferences and their online viral videos, you cannot really know what it is like to be in their position. Unless you try really, really hard.
Over lunch and dinner, almost invariably, professors over the age of 50 would utter phrases like "I think the young people are just to negative. We just did it, even if we didn't know where our careers would take us" (fact check: none of them spent 2 years on the TT market after a successful postdoc like I did, growing closer and closer to desperation with funding running out and no job on the horizon). They would sigh and wonder why postdocs and even PhD students are so focussed on their CV and their output, rather than on the fun of doing science (fact check: because they see people like me crash and burn, the lucky ones succeeding, but with plenty of good people not being able to build the academic career they always dreamed of).
And where do I find myself? I find myself wanting to fight a system that is overly hung up on publication output in an easy-to-check numbers game, while not taking the time to care about actual content. A system that expects me to spent ample time on teaching and outreach activities, while at the same time ultimately not rewarding those efforts because, well, high impact papers. A system that literally demands that I publish papers in high-impact journals of the CNS family (because we all know that is something that just happens when you work hard enough, right?), while at the same time pretending to promote open access. A system that I have to fit myself into if I want to get tenure in a few years, even if I keep telling myself that I will fight the system after I've passed that hurdle. But will I? Or will I ultimately fall victim to the system, and be assimilated by it? Even Jean-Luc eventually could only fight off the Borg for so long.
And as for the young ones? I tell them not to be naive. I tell them that yes, it is hard. And if their heart isn't in it for 100%, then no perhaps it is not worth the struggle. And I tell them that if they really want to be in science, that they then have to make sure they position themselves in the best possible way. But I also tell them to do science for the sake of doing science. To not build their CVs by just ticking of boxes, but by developing themselves into the scientist that they want to be. Because the system may be a rat race, but it should not be occupied by rats. It should be rebuilt by original and creative individuals, who each bring something different and unique to the table. And I hope that as long as I keep telling them that - as long as I keep telling myself that - that then, one day, the system will change.
My heroes of science
Now that I've been at this trying-to-run-a-lab business for two years, I want to say thank you to the people that helped me get there. Of course there are my scientific mentors and my parents (my dad still gives me the most valuable advice and now that I am old enough to no longer care what other people think I am proud instead of ashamed of it). But we are so lucky to live in a time where you can get helpful advice and good suggestions from just about anyone. So this shout out is to two ladies who are no longer updating their blogs, it seems, but who were really valuable to me as a postdoc.
In the end, these two ladies and fine scientists have helped me strike a healthy balance. One in which I am no longer blissfully unaware, and completely comfortable in calling out the men I work with when I think they are off in their opinion on female scientists. But also one were I am not completely paranoid. Because I am not unique due to the fact that I am a female scientist. I am unique because I am me. And my life is neither of their stories. But I sure am glad that they were there to guide me along the way.
You see, as a postdoc everything was going pretty well. I was in a great lab. The atmosphere was good. My experimental life had seen worse times. I took advantage of the career development seminars that were offered on campus (something I find that my current university could do better at) and then... I was slowly starting to realise that there were many more ambitious postdocs out there then jobs on the market. I had worked so hard to get to the top of the pyramid* and now it turned out that there were all these other workers fighting for standing room. WTF?
And so I started reading. I read books (I can really recommend "what color is your parachute" because 1) it helped me realise that yes, this is what I really want to do and so it gave me energy to really fight for that opportunity to get a faculty position and 2) it helped me realise that something that is a seemingly random for just about anybody else can be a priority or a deal breaker for me and that is okay!). But I also read blogs. Especially blogs from female scientists, because as much as we are all equal science-wise, I was slowly starting to realise that men and women are different and the experience of a 6'5" white alpha male is going to be different than that of a 5'5" timid woman.**
I had two super useful blogs on my blogroll.
First, I was an avid reader of FemaleScienceProfessor (http://science-professor.blogspot.com). She was in a different field, and she already had tenure, but she was so rational and calm and she made it all seem so possible, while still addressing all of these issues that women in academia encounter. She made it seem like there were mountains to conquer, but at least she made them seen conquerable. She gave me insight and quiet confidence and for that I want to say: thank you.
Second, I devoured YoungFemaleScientist (http://youngfemalescientist.blogspot.com). She was a little bit ahead of me and so I had to catch up on about 2 years of blogpost when I first starting following her. But that wasn't too much trouble. She addressed everything with more emotion and drama. But boy, did she usually hit the nail on the head! She made me feel like she was out there in the jungle with me, playing scout and forcing our path through the bushes. Every now and then she really struck a cord and I commented on her blogposts. Anonymously. She also made me reflect on the type of environment I was in and liked to be in. None of my experiences were ever as bad as the stuff she described, but she made me super aware and helped me develop feelers for all of the bad stuff that could be lurking out there, in the jungle. For that I also want to say: thank you. And I do hope that she is still going to give us that book she was always talking about.
In the end, these two ladies and fine scientists have helped me strike a healthy balance. One in which I am no longer blissfully unaware, and completely comfortable in calling out the men I work with when I think they are off in their opinion on female scientists. But also one were I am not completely paranoid. Because I am not unique due to the fact that I am a female scientist. I am unique because I am me. And my life is neither of their stories. But I sure am glad that they were there to guide me along the way.
* this is five years ago and little old me was so naive as to think that I was at the top of the pyramid. Haha, a little training-wheels pyramid maybe, blissfully unaware that the climb of Cheops' pyramid was yet about to start.
** I never wanted to believe that at first. I didn't want to believe that until I started reading more about this and while no, this doesn't hold for ALL men or ALL women, I think that on average males are more comfortable playing the (scientific) career game than women. A hunter mentality (scream and pound yourself on the test) is definitely more visible and sometimes, it feels, better appreciated than a more nurturing stance. Oh boy, how do I say this without sounding unfeminist or sexist?
Managing the budget: financial insecurities
My parents taught me how to handle money. I spend it wisely, I don't buy stuff I cannot afford and I am super good at saving. I don't live on the edge. Now that I have my own lab, I notice that I am handling my lab budget in the same way. I want to make sure that we have enough money for experiments, which are always more difficult to interpret than planned and which always require more follow up than the aims section in my grants promised.
In a recent comic I read at the Node (originally from the Journal of Cell Science), Mole suggests keeping a monthly budget: if this month's funds run out, people can no longer order. They can read instead. Fortunately, my peeps read papers on their own and the only one who should be forced to spend more time reading the literature is me, alas.
I am slightly less strict than Mole (I must confess that I am also never sure whether Mole's advice is to be taken seriously - could someone fill me in on that?): I check throughout the year (every three months or so) to make sure that as a group we don't overspend on an annual basis. I know what that number is, because I do allocate a virtual amount of money to spend on reagents as well as on mice in a spreadsheet where I keep tabs of all my grants.
It was difficult to decide what strategy to follow at first. Both during my PhD and postdoc I was in the lab of established scientists who were pretty well off. They always had a bit of money here and there. I was hardly ever told not to order stuff (at least not for financial reasons - one of my PIs did have the occasional nasty habit of not signing off on orders if he didn't like the experiments you were planning to do). My rich mentors never taught or told me anything about budgeting.
Starting out on my own, funds were considerably more tight and, being the goody two shoes that I am, one of my worst fears was to overspend and to run out of money. At the same time, I didn't want my people to suffer from joining a small, junior lab. They shouldn't feel like they cannot order stuff when they have an exciting new idea. So I am educating my lab members like my parents educated me: Think about what you need before ordering, make sure we don't buy stuff we already have, try to find the cheapest price, but if you really need it: get it. So far, we are doing okay.
My biggest concern now is to decide how far I can stretch my grants when it comes to hiring new people. I am now facing a situation where I got a few "smaller" grants* and I am not sure what to do. The "problem"** is that this grant only pays for, say, half a PhD. In my ideal world, I would save that money until I would get another grant that would pay for the other half, but that's not how it works. The granting agencies want you to start spending that money within the fiscal year (so their bookkeeping checks out), but I am just not comfortable hiring someone when I am not sure I will have money to keep them for the second half of their contract as well. My risk averseness doesn't really serve me well here. I can already imagine the sleepless nights and the stress that is going to bring me. So how do others deal with this? Should I just get over it? Do others ask the department to tie them over in case something doesn't work out in the end? Any good or bad experiences are welcome in the comments.
* it's funny how quickly you start to think about a certain number as "small" simply because you are now also dealing with amounts of money you only used to hear about in the Powerball lottery.
**its also funny how having money can be as much as a problem as not having money, just a different kind of problem.
I am slightly less strict than Mole (I must confess that I am also never sure whether Mole's advice is to be taken seriously - could someone fill me in on that?): I check throughout the year (every three months or so) to make sure that as a group we don't overspend on an annual basis. I know what that number is, because I do allocate a virtual amount of money to spend on reagents as well as on mice in a spreadsheet where I keep tabs of all my grants.
It was difficult to decide what strategy to follow at first. Both during my PhD and postdoc I was in the lab of established scientists who were pretty well off. They always had a bit of money here and there. I was hardly ever told not to order stuff (at least not for financial reasons - one of my PIs did have the occasional nasty habit of not signing off on orders if he didn't like the experiments you were planning to do). My rich mentors never taught or told me anything about budgeting.
Starting out on my own, funds were considerably more tight and, being the goody two shoes that I am, one of my worst fears was to overspend and to run out of money. At the same time, I didn't want my people to suffer from joining a small, junior lab. They shouldn't feel like they cannot order stuff when they have an exciting new idea. So I am educating my lab members like my parents educated me: Think about what you need before ordering, make sure we don't buy stuff we already have, try to find the cheapest price, but if you really need it: get it. So far, we are doing okay.
My biggest concern now is to decide how far I can stretch my grants when it comes to hiring new people. I am now facing a situation where I got a few "smaller" grants* and I am not sure what to do. The "problem"** is that this grant only pays for, say, half a PhD. In my ideal world, I would save that money until I would get another grant that would pay for the other half, but that's not how it works. The granting agencies want you to start spending that money within the fiscal year (so their bookkeeping checks out), but I am just not comfortable hiring someone when I am not sure I will have money to keep them for the second half of their contract as well. My risk averseness doesn't really serve me well here. I can already imagine the sleepless nights and the stress that is going to bring me. So how do others deal with this? Should I just get over it? Do others ask the department to tie them over in case something doesn't work out in the end? Any good or bad experiences are welcome in the comments.
* it's funny how quickly you start to think about a certain number as "small" simply because you are now also dealing with amounts of money you only used to hear about in the Powerball lottery.
**its also funny how having money can be as much as a problem as not having money, just a different kind of problem.
My time flies
I really needed to be away from the lab for a bit. I was completely exhausted and I spent all of my free time surrounding Christmas and New Years sleeping 10 hours per night whenever I could. The rest of the time was spent sensibly watching Netflix, but only the good stuff, like season 9 of HIMYM (finally). On the Sunday before going back to the lab I still couldn't imagine being at work again, but then Monday came and before I knew it I was back to 10 hour days instead of 10 hour nights.
It's funny. You can be away from the lab and the world just keeps turning, but the minute you are back there is shitloads more stuff that needs to be done than time to actually get to even half of it. That's what I find the most depressing, I think.
I decided that I really needed to start keeping track of my time. And so I decided that I will try to schedule all meetings that are not about content on Mondays through Wednesdays, with Thursdays and Fridays solely dedicated to science. That means the odd experiment every now and again, writing grants and papers, and talking to my people about actual data. And, hopefully, reading a paper every now and then or simply think about a problem for 2 hours. Ah, 2 hours of undevoted attention without a knock on the door. Of course I can spend time on science on Mondays through Wednesdays, the challenge will be to keep Thursdays and Fridays free of teaching/politics/other stuff.
It worked this week. I just looked at my calendar and of course there are already appointments seeping into Thursday. Man, this is about as tough as sticking to some crazy new diet. But here too, there is no failure, there is only a chance to begin again.
The second thing I started to do was actually logging my time. I want to do that for a couple of weeks straight to really see where my time goes. The first thing I noticed was how easily I let myself be interrupted. When someone comes in, I never send anyone away. I always jump up to help/talk/listen. And then it takes me a while to get back into what I was doing. Or, worse, I forgot what I was doing and start up something else. Total time drain! What a wake up call.
Also: e-mail. I am trying to NOT answer e-mail first thing in the morning. Instead, I do it once mid-day around lunch and once in the evening, before going home. Which is risky, because it means there will never be a clean line of being finished and so I will stay at work until forever (which is a risk anyways, because I am definitely an evening person).
I also try to eat better, because I can no longer pretend that chocolate cookies at 11 pm are a decent dinner for a grown up. That's why I had home-made salad on Monday and Tuesday, cooked a real meal at home (at 10 pm, but that's still progress). And then I fell off the wagon and had pizza on Thursday and cookies for dinner on Friday. I swear I need someone to take care of me. Oprah would not approve.
To be continued and, once I have logged stuff for a month or so (which takes a lot of time, actually, because since I apparently let my self be so easily distracted/claimed, I am logging lots of 15 minutes this, 15 minutes thats) I will be able to make bar graphs to see where the time goes. Yay.
It's funny. You can be away from the lab and the world just keeps turning, but the minute you are back there is shitloads more stuff that needs to be done than time to actually get to even half of it. That's what I find the most depressing, I think.
I decided that I really needed to start keeping track of my time. And so I decided that I will try to schedule all meetings that are not about content on Mondays through Wednesdays, with Thursdays and Fridays solely dedicated to science. That means the odd experiment every now and again, writing grants and papers, and talking to my people about actual data. And, hopefully, reading a paper every now and then or simply think about a problem for 2 hours. Ah, 2 hours of undevoted attention without a knock on the door. Of course I can spend time on science on Mondays through Wednesdays, the challenge will be to keep Thursdays and Fridays free of teaching/politics/other stuff.
It worked this week. I just looked at my calendar and of course there are already appointments seeping into Thursday. Man, this is about as tough as sticking to some crazy new diet. But here too, there is no failure, there is only a chance to begin again.
The second thing I started to do was actually logging my time. I want to do that for a couple of weeks straight to really see where my time goes. The first thing I noticed was how easily I let myself be interrupted. When someone comes in, I never send anyone away. I always jump up to help/talk/listen. And then it takes me a while to get back into what I was doing. Or, worse, I forgot what I was doing and start up something else. Total time drain! What a wake up call.
Also: e-mail. I am trying to NOT answer e-mail first thing in the morning. Instead, I do it once mid-day around lunch and once in the evening, before going home. Which is risky, because it means there will never be a clean line of being finished and so I will stay at work until forever (which is a risk anyways, because I am definitely an evening person).
I also try to eat better, because I can no longer pretend that chocolate cookies at 11 pm are a decent dinner for a grown up. That's why I had home-made salad on Monday and Tuesday, cooked a real meal at home (at 10 pm, but that's still progress). And then I fell off the wagon and had pizza on Thursday and cookies for dinner on Friday. I swear I need someone to take care of me. Oprah would not approve.
To be continued and, once I have logged stuff for a month or so (which takes a lot of time, actually, because since I apparently let my self be so easily distracted/claimed, I am logging lots of 15 minutes this, 15 minutes thats) I will be able to make bar graphs to see where the time goes. Yay.
The end of year 2
Although the Gregorian calendar and my tenure track clock do not run entirely in sync, I find myself at the end of 2015 as well as at the end of my second year of the tenure track right around the same time. Looking back on 2015 is quite easy: virtually all I did was work. The friends I still have left will confirm this.
Looking back on year 2 of the TT is a bit scary. It means I'm almost halfway done and people are expecting output. One of the most ridiculous things in my bit of the world is the fact that the evaluation procedure at the end of the tenure track is pretty much spelled out at the start. There was a bit of room for negotiation before I signed the contract (but not that much, really) and it was made very clear to me that it was either in or out: if I didn't hit my targets, it would be over. In contrast to other places in the world, where I have seen examples of TT evaluations that actually leave some room for interpretation (e.g. "good output in terms of papers in respected journals"), the hoops I have to jump through leave very little room for anything. I need to publish X numbers of papers with at least Y number of impact factors. And those are the demands that still make some sense... With contracts like that you run the risk that people are going to sit there and make sure they tick all of the boxes. The problem is: that's not the kind of scientist I am. That's not the kind of human being I am. I like to feel like I am part of the place I work in. I like to do things that may pay off in the long run, rather than ensure I pass the next TT hurdle. This is academia, for crying out lout. I am not some kind of sales person that is expected to hit a certain quotum. Except for that, well, I am.
Personally, I think that if I set up an awesome network or a new line of research that attracts the interest of students that should count for something. But alas, it is not measurable and therefore it would be wiser for me to focus on blindly getting papers out than on some of the other things that I think are important for me to grow as a scientist as well.
And so, looking back on year 2, I feel pretty good about actually making my midterm evaluation (coming up at the end of year 3). I ticked all of the midterm boxes, as far as I can tell. I was fortunate enough to actually get some grant proposals funded, or it would have been bye bye already. But most importantly, I did well by just being me and by not focusing too much on what the powers that be actually demanded of me. Being a good scientist and teacher, it turns out, has sufficed so far. A scientist and teacher that worked her ass off, had two weeks off during summer and spent those sick and exhausted in bed and who barely made it to the Christmas break alive, but hey, those are details.
What I am worried about, however, is those X's and Y's that need to match up between reality and that stupid ass contract at the end of year 5. Oh, I could go on and on about how ridiculous it is to put easy-to-tick-off numbers and qualifiers on whether or not someone is a good scientist. I also tell it to everyone who wants to listen, including upper management. So it's not like I am blindly playing along with the system pretending it's all roses and fairytales. But I am finding that I am developing a pokerface when answering questions about my "progress", even though I am quietly shitting my pants.
It has taken up so much time and energy to set up the team and the experimental pipeline and now that everything is running smoothly for the past 6 months or so, papers should really start to come out this year. At least, I am getting more and more questions about this from the peeps that will actually be evaluating whether Iam worthy of tenure ticked all my boxes at the end of the run. So I put on a brave smile and tell them we are "on track", but deep down inside I know that "on track" merely means we haven't derailed. We've barely left the station for most projects, encountering bumps in the road and troubleshooting like the cool science cowboys that we are. We are picking up steam but we're far from there yet. I am just hoping that scientific output (at least the one measured in papers) doesn't have to show a linear increase. Otherwise I might as well start packing up already.
Unfortunately there is a move in the future, which means massive disruption and delays, since I will have to set up everything at a new site again. Plus I will be required (as I was much of last year) to devote my time to designing lab spaces and office spaces and fights for equipment so my people won't suffer too much while I really should be focusing on science. All of this scares the bejezus out of me, but I'm not letting anyone in on that little secret. At least not the people that need to think I have my shit together.
Looking back on year 2 of the TT is a bit scary. It means I'm almost halfway done and people are expecting output. One of the most ridiculous things in my bit of the world is the fact that the evaluation procedure at the end of the tenure track is pretty much spelled out at the start. There was a bit of room for negotiation before I signed the contract (but not that much, really) and it was made very clear to me that it was either in or out: if I didn't hit my targets, it would be over. In contrast to other places in the world, where I have seen examples of TT evaluations that actually leave some room for interpretation (e.g. "good output in terms of papers in respected journals"), the hoops I have to jump through leave very little room for anything. I need to publish X numbers of papers with at least Y number of impact factors. And those are the demands that still make some sense... With contracts like that you run the risk that people are going to sit there and make sure they tick all of the boxes. The problem is: that's not the kind of scientist I am. That's not the kind of human being I am. I like to feel like I am part of the place I work in. I like to do things that may pay off in the long run, rather than ensure I pass the next TT hurdle. This is academia, for crying out lout. I am not some kind of sales person that is expected to hit a certain quotum. Except for that, well, I am.
Personally, I think that if I set up an awesome network or a new line of research that attracts the interest of students that should count for something. But alas, it is not measurable and therefore it would be wiser for me to focus on blindly getting papers out than on some of the other things that I think are important for me to grow as a scientist as well.
And so, looking back on year 2, I feel pretty good about actually making my midterm evaluation (coming up at the end of year 3). I ticked all of the midterm boxes, as far as I can tell. I was fortunate enough to actually get some grant proposals funded, or it would have been bye bye already. But most importantly, I did well by just being me and by not focusing too much on what the powers that be actually demanded of me. Being a good scientist and teacher, it turns out, has sufficed so far. A scientist and teacher that worked her ass off, had two weeks off during summer and spent those sick and exhausted in bed and who barely made it to the Christmas break alive, but hey, those are details.
What I am worried about, however, is those X's and Y's that need to match up between reality and that stupid ass contract at the end of year 5. Oh, I could go on and on about how ridiculous it is to put easy-to-tick-off numbers and qualifiers on whether or not someone is a good scientist. I also tell it to everyone who wants to listen, including upper management. So it's not like I am blindly playing along with the system pretending it's all roses and fairytales. But I am finding that I am developing a pokerface when answering questions about my "progress", even though I am quietly shitting my pants.
It has taken up so much time and energy to set up the team and the experimental pipeline and now that everything is running smoothly for the past 6 months or so, papers should really start to come out this year. At least, I am getting more and more questions about this from the peeps that will actually be evaluating whether I
Unfortunately there is a move in the future, which means massive disruption and delays, since I will have to set up everything at a new site again. Plus I will be required (as I was much of last year) to devote my time to designing lab spaces and office spaces and fights for equipment so my people won't suffer too much while I really should be focusing on science. All of this scares the bejezus out of me, but I'm not letting anyone in on that little secret. At least not the people that need to think I have my shit together.
Weekend
With CNN covering the bloody attacks in Paris in the background, I am spending all of Saturday behind the computer. There is so much on the to do list, that I have to admit defeat: the list will never be finished. Ever. It will just grow and, if I'm lucky, every now and then I will be able to make a dent in it by softly pushing in the borders like a harmonica.
During the week I am so busy with who-knows-what, that the actual science has to wait until the weekend. And this is not even what I used to call science (as in: involving a pipette), but the stuff I now call science.
So after spending yesterday on politics, grading a student proposal (late) and a student thesis (also late) today I reviewed a manuscript for a journal (which was... late), a manuscript draft for a colleague that may become a collaboration (which I also promised to have finished a week ago), and worked on the program for a meeting I am organising next year.
During the week I am so busy with who-knows-what, that the actual science has to wait until the weekend. And this is not even what I used to call science (as in: involving a pipette), but the stuff I now call science.
So after spending yesterday on politics, grading a student proposal (late) and a student thesis (also late) today I reviewed a manuscript for a journal (which was... late), a manuscript draft for a colleague that may become a collaboration (which I also promised to have finished a week ago), and worked on the program for a meeting I am organising next year.
A day in the life of a newish PI: 1 October
Following in the footsteps of the New PI over at thenewpi.blogspot.com, I decided to track my whereabouts today so that others (or wannabe PI's) can get a glimpse of what it's really like. I missed the first opportunity on 17 September, because I was too busy running around and I didn't keep track of my time. But better late than never, and so here I present: my October 1st.
I guess today was a good day. I actually spent time on science.
I woke up at 8:30. That is not typical at all, but I was completely exhausted after an intense stretch of teaching. I taught three 9 am classes on Monday (3 hours), Tuesday (3 hours) and Wednesday (1 hour) and spent each of the evenings before preparing until well past 1 am. On Tuesday night I also gave a public outreach lecture and on top of everything I was teaching the Wednesday morning class in another city, which meant that I had to leave home at 7 am. I don't know how US presidents do it, but I tend to function less well after a couple of nights with only 5 hours of sleep.
8:30 - 9:00 I made coffee and checked my calendar (I switched from paper to iCal last year) and to do lists (it had a bit of a learning curve, but now I would be nothing without "Things") over breakfast (leftover pancakes - sad, I know). I then did what you are supposedly not to do at the start of your day, which is check e-mail (some say this will distract you from doing what you had actually planned to do). However, I had been postponing answering some e-mails because I was busy and there were also just a few small ones to get out of the way, including some teaching correspondence which mostly had to do with me not having access to a database I was supposed to be able to get into and the teaching administration people blaming it on "the system".
9:00 - 11:00 I went over the slides for the lecture I had to teach in the afternoon. Unlike the course I was teaching on Monday and Tuesday (which isI new and therefore takes forever to prepare because I have to generate all of the material from scratch), I did teach this class before. So I dug up my slides from last year and checked if any of them needed updating (I try to incorporate a bit of my own research and/or new findings from the literature into each class as much as possible) or whether I wanted to change the order. I didn't make all that many changes, but it still took me two hours for a two hour class. I don't think that is too uncommon.
11:00 - 11:30 I took a shower and got dressed, because I had to be at journal club at noon. I wasted ten precious minutes looking for clean underwear and two matching socks. While searching, I transferred my lecture from the iMac to the MacBook. Thank goodness for Wifi and Dropbox. Unfortunately, my laundry quest meant I was going to be late, because it takes more than half an hour to get to work.
11:30 - 12:10 I biked to work and ran to journal club.
12:10 - 14:00 Nice journal club session. We tore apart a Nature paper. As a PhD student and postdoc I never was super fond of journal clubs, although I could see their value. It just felt like they took me away from my 'real work'. These days, they are a welcome interruption and they actually count as "doing science". It also never ceases to amaze me how much more you get out of a paper when you read it with a whole group of people with different backgrounds.
14:10 - 14:55 I ran down, bought lunch and a coffee, ate it on the way back to my room, checked in with my people to see how everyone was doing and to inquire about the mice we operated on last night until 8 pm. Everyone was doing fine. Yay. Then I had a few discussion with different people about political issues (not the Hillary/Trump ones but the University/Career kind). I kicked everyone out of my office five minutes before my class started.
14:55 - 15:00 I ran down the stairs and set up my laptop. I am a pro now. Getting into the room early to make sure everything is working is for sissies. I can bluff my way through any audiovisual system. Although this room had a smart board and I didn't know how to combine beaming and writing so I ended up explaining Cre/lox technology using the old-fashioned whiteboard on the side wall. I opened the windows to let oxygen into the room, because I didn't want everyone to fall asleep.
15:00 - 17:00 I taught my class (to a small group of MSc students). It went well, they seemed to like it enough and I taught them new stuff (I regularly check to see how it connects to what they already know) and they stayed awake. What more can you wish for.
17:00 - 19:00 I read a manuscript that I had to review. The deadline was the day before yesterday. It's hard to believe that only two to three years ago I was one of those people who aways had everything finished in time, preferably a couple of days before a deadline. Now I am constantly chasing them, it seems. I was reviewing this manuscript with my postdoc (after asking permission from the editor) as part of the postdoc's academic training. Plus it's nice to exchange thoughts and talk about science, even if it is someone else's. This was the first review for this postdoc, so I needed to evaluate the review draft as well as the manuscript. Big papers (Cell, Nature and the like) still take me at least a day to review (usually with at least a night's sleep in between sessions), but this was a smaller one and I was able to evaluate everything in two hours.
19:00 - 20:30 My postdoc and I went over the manuscript, edited the first draft of the review, finalised it and uploaded it to the journal online review system. When we were done I had a new invitation for another review waiting in my mailbox.
20:30 - 21:30 I biked home and stopped along the way at a supermarket to buy food. Dinner was some battered fish from the oven with a bit of cucumber and a glass of wine. My mom is right. I should take better care of myself.
I guess today was a good day. I actually spent time on science.
I woke up at 8:30. That is not typical at all, but I was completely exhausted after an intense stretch of teaching. I taught three 9 am classes on Monday (3 hours), Tuesday (3 hours) and Wednesday (1 hour) and spent each of the evenings before preparing until well past 1 am. On Tuesday night I also gave a public outreach lecture and on top of everything I was teaching the Wednesday morning class in another city, which meant that I had to leave home at 7 am. I don't know how US presidents do it, but I tend to function less well after a couple of nights with only 5 hours of sleep.
8:30 - 9:00 I made coffee and checked my calendar (I switched from paper to iCal last year) and to do lists (it had a bit of a learning curve, but now I would be nothing without "Things") over breakfast (leftover pancakes - sad, I know). I then did what you are supposedly not to do at the start of your day, which is check e-mail (some say this will distract you from doing what you had actually planned to do). However, I had been postponing answering some e-mails because I was busy and there were also just a few small ones to get out of the way, including some teaching correspondence which mostly had to do with me not having access to a database I was supposed to be able to get into and the teaching administration people blaming it on "the system".
9:00 - 11:00 I went over the slides for the lecture I had to teach in the afternoon. Unlike the course I was teaching on Monday and Tuesday (which isI new and therefore takes forever to prepare because I have to generate all of the material from scratch), I did teach this class before. So I dug up my slides from last year and checked if any of them needed updating (I try to incorporate a bit of my own research and/or new findings from the literature into each class as much as possible) or whether I wanted to change the order. I didn't make all that many changes, but it still took me two hours for a two hour class. I don't think that is too uncommon.
11:00 - 11:30 I took a shower and got dressed, because I had to be at journal club at noon. I wasted ten precious minutes looking for clean underwear and two matching socks. While searching, I transferred my lecture from the iMac to the MacBook. Thank goodness for Wifi and Dropbox. Unfortunately, my laundry quest meant I was going to be late, because it takes more than half an hour to get to work.
11:30 - 12:10 I biked to work and ran to journal club.
12:10 - 14:00 Nice journal club session. We tore apart a Nature paper. As a PhD student and postdoc I never was super fond of journal clubs, although I could see their value. It just felt like they took me away from my 'real work'. These days, they are a welcome interruption and they actually count as "doing science". It also never ceases to amaze me how much more you get out of a paper when you read it with a whole group of people with different backgrounds.
14:10 - 14:55 I ran down, bought lunch and a coffee, ate it on the way back to my room, checked in with my people to see how everyone was doing and to inquire about the mice we operated on last night until 8 pm. Everyone was doing fine. Yay. Then I had a few discussion with different people about political issues (not the Hillary/Trump ones but the University/Career kind). I kicked everyone out of my office five minutes before my class started.
14:55 - 15:00 I ran down the stairs and set up my laptop. I am a pro now. Getting into the room early to make sure everything is working is for sissies. I can bluff my way through any audiovisual system. Although this room had a smart board and I didn't know how to combine beaming and writing so I ended up explaining Cre/lox technology using the old-fashioned whiteboard on the side wall. I opened the windows to let oxygen into the room, because I didn't want everyone to fall asleep.
15:00 - 17:00 I taught my class (to a small group of MSc students). It went well, they seemed to like it enough and I taught them new stuff (I regularly check to see how it connects to what they already know) and they stayed awake. What more can you wish for.
17:00 - 19:00 I read a manuscript that I had to review. The deadline was the day before yesterday. It's hard to believe that only two to three years ago I was one of those people who aways had everything finished in time, preferably a couple of days before a deadline. Now I am constantly chasing them, it seems. I was reviewing this manuscript with my postdoc (after asking permission from the editor) as part of the postdoc's academic training. Plus it's nice to exchange thoughts and talk about science, even if it is someone else's. This was the first review for this postdoc, so I needed to evaluate the review draft as well as the manuscript. Big papers (Cell, Nature and the like) still take me at least a day to review (usually with at least a night's sleep in between sessions), but this was a smaller one and I was able to evaluate everything in two hours.
19:00 - 20:30 My postdoc and I went over the manuscript, edited the first draft of the review, finalised it and uploaded it to the journal online review system. When we were done I had a new invitation for another review waiting in my mailbox.
20:30 - 21:30 I biked home and stopped along the way at a supermarket to buy food. Dinner was some battered fish from the oven with a bit of cucumber and a glass of wine. My mom is right. I should take better care of myself.
A new year
One of the best aspects of academia, is that you get to celebrate New Years twice per annum. The start of the 2015-2016 academic year (next week, where I'm at) offers a second opportunity for drafting resolutions. After a whole summer of preparing for a new class I am developing and teaching (which is turning out to be just about as much work as I had expected in my worst case scenario), these resolutions sound an awful lot like the ones from January. Make time for family and friends. Hell, make time for diner. Note to self: a non-microwave dinner.
So what does the new year have in store for me? Well, first of all I am going to be mid-way of (2.5 years into, that is) my tenure track some time in the spring of 2016. It's hard to believe how fast the time has gone. It feels like I just kinda know what I am supposed to be doing, but it means that I also have to start keeping an eye out for actual scientific output of my team (you know, publications).
When I started this job in 2013, I spent the first year like somewhat like the offspring of a sponge and a bouncing ball. I was so excited to have finally landed a position where I could set up my own lab and my own research. So excited to get a chance to do science my way, to become the mentor I'd always wanted to be and to figure out, step by step, what that actually was going to be. So excited to have the longest contract since high school, which felt like oceans of time spread out in front of me, with endless opportunities to branch out (while being aware of the danger of 'spreading to thin') into new directions, nurturing new collaborations, trying something crazy for a change. So excited to finally be learning something again myself. I knew I could do the postdoc thing, if I had to, but I wanted to grow as well. So I soaked it all up. The politics. The shenanigans. The organisational hassles. The lab management. I was thrilled, even if I had no clue what I was doing.
It took about a year and a half to get the proper funding (and hire the right people using said funding), which leaves me with the feeling that it only seems like things have been up and running for six months or so. Which means that I am almost midway of my tenure track, while in reality we've barely picked up momentum. That's a bit of a scary thought too, I must admit. So I'll just keep on doing what I have been doing: taking it one day at a time, while occasionally glancing at my whiteboard, which holds my grand master scheme for total world domination.
So what does the new year have in store for me? Well, first of all I am going to be mid-way of (2.5 years into, that is) my tenure track some time in the spring of 2016. It's hard to believe how fast the time has gone. It feels like I just kinda know what I am supposed to be doing, but it means that I also have to start keeping an eye out for actual scientific output of my team (you know, publications).
 |
| What I felt like the first year. |
When I started this job in 2013, I spent the first year like somewhat like the offspring of a sponge and a bouncing ball. I was so excited to have finally landed a position where I could set up my own lab and my own research. So excited to get a chance to do science my way, to become the mentor I'd always wanted to be and to figure out, step by step, what that actually was going to be. So excited to have the longest contract since high school, which felt like oceans of time spread out in front of me, with endless opportunities to branch out (while being aware of the danger of 'spreading to thin') into new directions, nurturing new collaborations, trying something crazy for a change. So excited to finally be learning something again myself. I knew I could do the postdoc thing, if I had to, but I wanted to grow as well. So I soaked it all up. The politics. The shenanigans. The organisational hassles. The lab management. I was thrilled, even if I had no clue what I was doing.
It took about a year and a half to get the proper funding (and hire the right people using said funding), which leaves me with the feeling that it only seems like things have been up and running for six months or so. Which means that I am almost midway of my tenure track, while in reality we've barely picked up momentum. That's a bit of a scary thought too, I must admit. So I'll just keep on doing what I have been doing: taking it one day at a time, while occasionally glancing at my whiteboard, which holds my grand master scheme for total world domination.
How to get a job interview: 5 Tips for writing your cover letter and CV
All of a sudden I am at the other side of the table. The first time I had to hire someone in the lab I was probably as nervous and sleep deprived as the candidate, but I tried really hard not to show it. It's scary. Picking those first few people with whom you want to build your team is of great importance. You don't want someone to quit after a year, because they suddenly realise they want to do something else. You don't want troublemakers: when your lab is still really small, one sour apple is going to spoil everything. You hope for someone smart and creative and you take a guess. In the end, there is no certainty.
What struck me however, was how easy is it is to make the first selection. And with 'first selection' I mean deciding who goes on the 'yes definitely invite to an interview', 'well, maybe' and 'nope' pile. As it turns out, many candidates have no clue how to write a letter (or how to present their CV) in such a way that they even remotely stand a chance.
So here are my 5 tips for increasing your chance to be invited to an interview (and I guess most of these tips hold for non-academia as well). Now some of these may sound like nitpicking. But remember: the job market is tough. For every tiny mistake that you make, someone else will do a better job. And that someone else is going to land on the 'yes' pile. That could have been you. So make the extra effort!
1) Spell check. Spell check. Spell check.
If you make errors here, what subliminal message are you trying to convey? That you don't care about details? That you never think twice and reflect on what you do?
2) Grammar. Structure.
Eventually you are going to have to write a thesis. And papers. And reviews. And I'd like to be that period as productive and enjoyable as possible for all our sakes. So if you give me mumbo-jumbo in your letter and CV, what am I supposed to think? Even if you suck at writing, make sure you have your letter and CV checked by someone else! You want to dazzle me at the interview right? Bad writing is not going to land you one.
3) Dear Sir.
If you don't have the time to google my name and check my website to find out that I am a dear Madam (and preferably a dear Dr. and while we're at it let's go completely overboard and actually address me as Dear Dr. Lastname), why should I take the time to read your letter?
4) Layout.
Okay, maybe this is a pet peeve of mine. But if you cannot align stuff on paper? If it looks like your CV was created by aiming a letter gun at a piece of paper? That just gives me goosebumps allover. It sends me the subliminal message that you don't care about organisation and that everything you do is going to be a mess. Now my bench is not the neatest, but at least my CV has never betrayed that!
5) Make sense.
Get to the point. Why do you want this job and why should I want you? Saying that you admire my competitor's work? Yeah, there just might be days during which I have a hard time reading a complement in there. Why don't you write him a letter instead.
What struck me however, was how easy is it is to make the first selection. And with 'first selection' I mean deciding who goes on the 'yes definitely invite to an interview', 'well, maybe' and 'nope' pile. As it turns out, many candidates have no clue how to write a letter (or how to present their CV) in such a way that they even remotely stand a chance.
So here are my 5 tips for increasing your chance to be invited to an interview (and I guess most of these tips hold for non-academia as well). Now some of these may sound like nitpicking. But remember: the job market is tough. For every tiny mistake that you make, someone else will do a better job. And that someone else is going to land on the 'yes' pile. That could have been you. So make the extra effort!
1) Spell check. Spell check. Spell check.
If you make errors here, what subliminal message are you trying to convey? That you don't care about details? That you never think twice and reflect on what you do?
2) Grammar. Structure.
Eventually you are going to have to write a thesis. And papers. And reviews. And I'd like to be that period as productive and enjoyable as possible for all our sakes. So if you give me mumbo-jumbo in your letter and CV, what am I supposed to think? Even if you suck at writing, make sure you have your letter and CV checked by someone else! You want to dazzle me at the interview right? Bad writing is not going to land you one.
3) Dear Sir.
If you don't have the time to google my name and check my website to find out that I am a dear Madam (and preferably a dear Dr. and while we're at it let's go completely overboard and actually address me as Dear Dr. Lastname), why should I take the time to read your letter?
4) Layout.
Okay, maybe this is a pet peeve of mine. But if you cannot align stuff on paper? If it looks like your CV was created by aiming a letter gun at a piece of paper? That just gives me goosebumps allover. It sends me the subliminal message that you don't care about organisation and that everything you do is going to be a mess. Now my bench is not the neatest, but at least my CV has never betrayed that!
5) Make sense.
Get to the point. Why do you want this job and why should I want you? Saying that you admire my competitor's work? Yeah, there just might be days during which I have a hard time reading a complement in there. Why don't you write him a letter instead.
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)