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.
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.
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