There have been several great posts about being a scientist and a parent (e.g. Gerty-Z's and PlS's), also a couple of great posts on being a scientist and choosing not to be a mom (Jade's and Dr. G's). I will probably follow up with my own #scimom story at a later date (an epic tale of challenges and perseverance :-), but I have something different planned for today.
I have kids, and I love them. I even like other people's kids, which admittedly only came about after I had my own. Obviously, people who want kids should have them. It is really heartbreaking when people desire to have kids, but are unable to... It is also quite tragic, on a completely different level, when people wish to have kids but believe that their career is completely incompatible with having a family -- this is a failure of our society, and we need to tirelessly keep working to enable every person a chance to find fulfillment on both fronts without having to choose.
I also think that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being childless by choice.
Only, whenever I read a statement like this one, whether it's written by me or someone else, I cannot help but feel that it's indeed a very patronizing statement, especially when it comes from someone who has kids. It sounds like I am giving my blessing to people who are childless by choice, whereas, in reality, they should not be expected to give a rat's ass what I or any other random person thinks about their choices.
The people who are childless by choice are often expected to justify themselves, and then they fall into the trap of other people feeling it's their duty to pick apart each reason and offer counter-examples or counter-arguments to show how parenting is actually feasible in spite of said reason. That is totally beside the point -- all problems are relative: I am sure that many of mine would appear completely self-indulgent and trivial to someone else.
Dear childless-by-choice people, please accept my apologies in the name of all us patronizing people with kids. You really, really should not care what any of us think. We really should never get to pass judgment on you. It goes without saying that your choice to not have kids -- or any other of your choices -- is a priori perfectly valid, simply because you are an adult.
But, can a person who has kids really, truly ever understand and respect another person's wishes not to have them? Will there always be a hint of self-righteousness and judgment in there? I think the best way may be to try and draw parallels: for instance, not wanting to have kids would, in my case, probably be analogous in many ways to not wanting to own dogs. (Yes, I know that having kids and having dogs are, in fact, not the same. And neither are the societal pressures to have them.)
I do not want to own a dog. Ever. I do not hate dogs -- I would never wish for anything bad to happen to any dog and I find some of them very cute. I will pet other people's dogs, but I am ultimately always relieved when they leave.
There are many, many dogs in my neighborhood; seemingly everyone has not one but multiple dogs. So whenever I go for a walk, it's impossible to avoid people walking their dogs. I usually just want to be left alone and enjoy the walk, but a lot of people will stop -- especially when I'm with one of my kids -- and offer us to pet the dog, then start talking about the dog's name and how she is nice and gentle and how kids love her, and won't my kid pet her some more, whereas all I am thinking is that my kid now has dog slobber on his hands and where am I going to get something to clean him up. And then there are the questions why I don't have a dog; I say that my eldest son is allergic to pet dander (which he is), but in reality, even if he wasn't, I would never ever own a dog. To me, dogs appear to be an unnecessary hassle and an unnecessary expense. You have to make sure someone's there to pet sit when you leave town, and I don't think I can put a dog on on my health insurance plan. And don't even get me started with having to take them out in all kinds of weather and having to pick up all that poop.
I have a friend from grad school who has four dogs and calls them his babies. He spams me incessantly with pictures of his dogs (and his extravagant holidays). I would not have a big problem with his doggy pics and doggy stories if he ever, even once, showed any interest in my kids, such as asked how they were or whatever. Since he doesn't care about my kids, I am considerate enough not to bring them up in conversation and I certainly don't send him their pictures. I wish he would extend the same courtesy to me.
If I somehow ended up owning a dog (and were for some reason unable to put it up for adoption) I am sure I would eventually get emotionally attached to it, because I am not made out of stone. I am sure owning a dog is great and rewarding for many people, but I really don't care to try. I just don't want to own a dog, period. And I really don't think it's anyone's place to tell me that I should want to own one because it's so awesome (and because if I don't want to, I must be somehow broken), and it's also no one's place to tell me that I am overestimating how much work or money or poop collection they require. And it's certainly no dog owner's place to pat me on the head and tell me, patronizingly, that it's perfectly OK to choose not to have a dog. Duh.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Evaluating Competition
An interesting ethical dilemma has emerged again today.
I received a request from a European funding agency to review a proposal (it's a 5-pager with a pretty big budget requested, which made me want to pack up and move back to Europe stat, but that's perhaps material for a different post). The proposal is from a PI I know superficially; the group does very good work and is quite large.
Here's the issue: they are getting into the subfield I work in and the proposal is exactly on the same type of stuff that I am currently working on with my postdoc, a couple of students, and a few collaborators. On some of the problems they propose to explore we already have paper drafts. But, the group is large and I am sure they can move pretty quickly into whichever direction they choose, which does make them serious competition.
So the obvious question is: how does one -- if at all -- evaluate such a proposal?
Option 1: Recuse myself as I have a conflict of interest. A downside is that I am probably one of the most qualified persons around to evaluate this proposal for technical merit precisely because I currently do closely related work.
Option 2: Simply evaluate the proposal as objectively as possible, focusing on the technical merit, originality, novelty, etc., and try really, really hard to put aside all consideration of competition/scooping. Keep repeating "They do good science, I will evaluate the science. I will be objective, I will be objective..."
Option 3: Kill the proposal and never think about it again. It's nice to be able to eliminate competition by cutting their lifeline! *mwahahahaha*
Whenever something like this happens, I always do either 1 (if I really feel I would be negatively predisposed to a paper or a proposal simply because I think the person is a jerk or I do feel we are in too direct a competition) or 2 (when I feel that I am able to be objective and do not have strong negative feelings about the proposer). I think 1 and 2 are the only ethical things to do.
But, sometimes you receive these irrationally hostile and largely unfounded proposal or paper reviews. I know several people in my field who are notorious as someone who will kill your work just because they can, and they seem not to have any qualms about doing so regardless of the proposal's or paper's merit. I am pretty sure I can identify one proposal reviewer on my recent declined NSF grant who has always gone out of his way to be an ass to me, and is universally known as quite dangerous. So perhaps I am being a dumb and naive Goody Two-Shoes and it really is eat or be eaten, so I should start wielding the bloody sword of rejection at anything or anyone that even remotely steps on my turf?
Have you ever killed a proposal or a paper just because you could? All of these actions can be justified based on a lack of technical merit -- there is no such thing as a perfect proposal or paper -- but, if you are being honest, have you ever really, truly done it primarily in order to derail someone, because, underneath it all, you felt threatened and protected your turf? Even if you have never done so, how often have you wondered, at least in the back of your mind, whether perhaps you should do it?
Of course, this post begs for a poll:
Please be honest. I know enough people in science who are complete and utter selfish assholes that I will be deeply disappointed if all I get are hypocritical responses such as "I would never EVER dream of doing such an unethical thing!" Even good people dream of doing horrible things, but luckily most people don't act on their worst impulses.
I received a request from a European funding agency to review a proposal (it's a 5-pager with a pretty big budget requested, which made me want to pack up and move back to Europe stat, but that's perhaps material for a different post). The proposal is from a PI I know superficially; the group does very good work and is quite large.
Here's the issue: they are getting into the subfield I work in and the proposal is exactly on the same type of stuff that I am currently working on with my postdoc, a couple of students, and a few collaborators. On some of the problems they propose to explore we already have paper drafts. But, the group is large and I am sure they can move pretty quickly into whichever direction they choose, which does make them serious competition.
So the obvious question is: how does one -- if at all -- evaluate such a proposal?
Option 1: Recuse myself as I have a conflict of interest. A downside is that I am probably one of the most qualified persons around to evaluate this proposal for technical merit precisely because I currently do closely related work.
Option 2: Simply evaluate the proposal as objectively as possible, focusing on the technical merit, originality, novelty, etc., and try really, really hard to put aside all consideration of competition/scooping. Keep repeating "They do good science, I will evaluate the science. I will be objective, I will be objective..."
Option 3: Kill the proposal and never think about it again. It's nice to be able to eliminate competition by cutting their lifeline! *mwahahahaha*
Whenever something like this happens, I always do either 1 (if I really feel I would be negatively predisposed to a paper or a proposal simply because I think the person is a jerk or I do feel we are in too direct a competition) or 2 (when I feel that I am able to be objective and do not have strong negative feelings about the proposer). I think 1 and 2 are the only ethical things to do.
But, sometimes you receive these irrationally hostile and largely unfounded proposal or paper reviews. I know several people in my field who are notorious as someone who will kill your work just because they can, and they seem not to have any qualms about doing so regardless of the proposal's or paper's merit. I am pretty sure I can identify one proposal reviewer on my recent declined NSF grant who has always gone out of his way to be an ass to me, and is universally known as quite dangerous. So perhaps I am being a dumb and naive Goody Two-Shoes and it really is eat or be eaten, so I should start wielding the bloody sword of rejection at anything or anyone that even remotely steps on my turf?
Have you ever killed a proposal or a paper just because you could? All of these actions can be justified based on a lack of technical merit -- there is no such thing as a perfect proposal or paper -- but, if you are being honest, have you ever really, truly done it primarily in order to derail someone, because, underneath it all, you felt threatened and protected your turf? Even if you have never done so, how often have you wondered, at least in the back of your mind, whether perhaps you should do it?
Of course, this post begs for a poll:
Please be honest. I know enough people in science who are complete and utter selfish assholes that I will be deeply disappointed if all I get are hypocritical responses such as "I would never EVER dream of doing such an unethical thing!" Even good people dream of doing horrible things, but luckily most people don't act on their worst impulses.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Musings on co-authorship, co-PI-ship, job-seeking etiquette, and career/mommyhood
Another combo post, from the long comments I have a tendency to leave on other people's blogs.
1) In response to DrugMonkey's post on the proper assignment of credit (co-authorship) on scientific papers. More specifically, on when and how to sever ties with a previous advisor/group.
About 6 months into my tenure track, I had a heart-to-heart with my PhD advisor (I didn't do a postdoc) and told him that I had been told by the folks at my new university that it would look bad for my tenure case if I continued to have papers with him for too long. We decided we'd wrap up one more paper with his name on it and that would be the end. No one was upset or disrespected. Well-meaning advisors realize you need to sever the umbilical cord (both in reality and on paper), and the person whose tenure is on the line needs to make sure (sooner rather than later) that everyone understands what must be done and why.
I did a similar thing regarding severing co-authorship with collaborators: a student came to me from a friendly group, with an MS and a piece of code developed there. Over the next three years we did a lot of new work that somewhat relied on the code he had brought with him and his previous advisors were on all the new publications. After their involvement had become purely that of looking over the final manuscript and catching typos (worth an acknowledgement, not a co-authorship) and stayed that way for nearly two years, I decided it was high time to address the issue head-on; I exchanged a couple of emails with them, saying that perhaps it's time to part ways as we have moved too far from the topic where their original contribution lied. They were both OK with it, one even acknowledged that for a while he had been uncomfortable with the essentially courtesy co-authorship.
A case in point for the PI being the corresponding author on a paper: the first author (student or postdoc) simply won't be at the current email address permanently, whereas the lead PI (last author in my field) typically will. Sometimes students/postdocs feel robbed of their ownership of the paper if they are not listed as the corresponding author. In those cases, whenever possible (which is often in my field) I request that both the student/postdoc and I, the PI, be listed as corresponding authors.
2) Dr. Sneetch (awesome and on the tenure track) wondered how to deal with a belligerent co-PI who would love nothing more than to take his/her share of money on an awarded grant and do something barely related to the work described in the grant, leaving the PI to justify the detour to the program officer.
Sneetch, I don't have first-hand experience (PI on a grant where someone just takes the money and does something totally unrelated) but I have had the experience of being a co-PI on a multi-investigator grant where another co-PI has either gone off and done the same (blown money on whatever), and then either severed all communication with the rest of the team or tried to argue that he is of course doing stuff related to the main project. Such a renegade co-PI indeed endangers the whole project and chances of renewal (especially in DOD agencies, where you better do what you promised and not aggravate your program officer).
I understand your frustration. You are unfortunately not tenured, so you have to tread lightly around asshole senior colleagues. Rule No 1 -- never again engage in additional collaborative proposals with a person who would not honor the project. It's not worth it, find someone else to do the same work even if at another university. As for the grant(s) you currently have where a colleague has gone over to do his own thing, how is the money managed? Is it a common account, or do you make small subaccounts for each co-PI? If the latter, you are kind of screwed. If the former, I think nominally all expenses would have to go through you and you have veto power.
Anyhoo, if you are the PI and one co-PI is asking to do something unrelated to the main project and you really think it's too far out and are uncomfortable supporting this change of direction, I would employ the good old "it's not me, it's the program officer" routine: tell him that you think you have no problem with it, but that you talked to the program officer (even if you didn't) and the PO doesn't agree it's within the scope of the program, so your hands are tied even though you would really really like to help/comply. *bat eyelashes here*
If you are actually OK with changing the scope and it's NSF, you can fill out the "change of scope" or similar forms when you submit annual report, and you should consult with the PO as soon as possible to get the formal OK from him/her. (Many PO's at the NSF don't care about a reasonable change of scope as long as you crank out good papers.) Other agencies have similar mechanisms to change scope -- but only if you as the PI are OK with the change. If you are not, as I said, play powerless and blame it on the program officer that your hands are tied -- this until you get tenure; once you are tenured, just say "Sorry, no."
3) Massimo muses on the appropriate etiquette for academic job seekers with multiple offers.
After I had interviewed (has it been 7 years already?), the first offer I received was from my first choice (among the places I interviewed), let’s call it Uni A, and they gave me something like 4 weeks to respond; the second offer came a week later, from Uni B. After hearing that I had received an offer already, Uni B gave me a week to decide. Actually, Uni B had been the first to interview me, more than a month before any other; I liked them a lot, and if they had been prompt about making me an offer, I would have likely taken it. Instead, they waited more than 2 months to give me an offer, during which I had two more interviews and fell in love with my current place (Uni A). I ended up deciding about 10 days after receiving the 1st offer (from Uni A), and 2-3 days after receiving the offer from Uni B. At that time, I also withdrew my application from Uni C, the third place where I had interviewed only a couple of days before the first offer came in; I knew I would never consider Uni C's offer as competitive to those of Uni A or B (too high of a teaching load and part of the country I would really not want to live in if I could help it -- bad public schools, a very red state); a couple of people actually suggested I should wait to see if I could get an offer from Uni C too, just to see if I could get 3 out of 3, but I thought that would be totally unethical and douchebaggy of me.
Anyway, I think it’s important to assess whether the candidate genuinely seems like he/she would want to work at your university. Sometimes we get these excellent candidates, but they don’t click, there is a marked lack of interest on their part, yet we still give them offers and waste a lot of time waiting and they of course don’t accept. For instance, we interviewed a woman a few years back, she had 6 or 7 interviews that year. She gave a great talk and had a stellar record, but you could tell she didn’t particularly care about the impression she left on us; she had her sights set on greener pastures. That’s quite alright, but we ended up giving her an offer anyway, which she of course declined, and we ended up wasting a lot of time on her that year and ended up hiring no one.
I am contrasting this with another excellent candidate where there was an instant chemistry with everyone in the department and he was genuinely excited about the city and the potential collaborators. You could tell he would be a great fit, and he really is! My interview was a bit like that — love at first sight, both with the city and the potential collaborations. I never regretted my decision.
4) Dr. Sneetch wonders how much her career suffers when she temporarily slows down due to childcare obligation.
One piece of advice is not to overshare with people at work what your absences mean. I learned this from a senior female colleague who is a master of maintaining the aura of aloofness that makes everyone think she's some kind of deity. You are covering your teaching and non-negotiable service, and that's great. How you organize your time beyond that -- well, it's (almost) nobody's business. You could be going to a string of conferences or review panels, right? You are simply not available -- that's what most people need to know. What it is that you are doing in that time -- most people need not know.
That colleague I mentioned -- she only says "This week does not work for me." No explanation. If you want her time, you have to propose another date and time. Whether she is doing aerobics all week, or is at a conference, or her kid is sick -- no one knows.
Anecdotally, when men are away, people assume they are away on business. When women are away, people assume it's family. Don't give them more ammunition to further stereotype you.
And don't worry about putting research on the back burner temporarily. The work-family balance is never a balance; more like a seesaw. When a kid is sick, of course research is a lower priority. In my experience kids really seem not to get sick very often past a year or two in a childcare setting.
1) In response to DrugMonkey's post on the proper assignment of credit (co-authorship) on scientific papers. More specifically, on when and how to sever ties with a previous advisor/group.
About 6 months into my tenure track, I had a heart-to-heart with my PhD advisor (I didn't do a postdoc) and told him that I had been told by the folks at my new university that it would look bad for my tenure case if I continued to have papers with him for too long. We decided we'd wrap up one more paper with his name on it and that would be the end. No one was upset or disrespected. Well-meaning advisors realize you need to sever the umbilical cord (both in reality and on paper), and the person whose tenure is on the line needs to make sure (sooner rather than later) that everyone understands what must be done and why.
I did a similar thing regarding severing co-authorship with collaborators: a student came to me from a friendly group, with an MS and a piece of code developed there. Over the next three years we did a lot of new work that somewhat relied on the code he had brought with him and his previous advisors were on all the new publications. After their involvement had become purely that of looking over the final manuscript and catching typos (worth an acknowledgement, not a co-authorship) and stayed that way for nearly two years, I decided it was high time to address the issue head-on; I exchanged a couple of emails with them, saying that perhaps it's time to part ways as we have moved too far from the topic where their original contribution lied. They were both OK with it, one even acknowledged that for a while he had been uncomfortable with the essentially courtesy co-authorship.
A case in point for the PI being the corresponding author on a paper: the first author (student or postdoc) simply won't be at the current email address permanently, whereas the lead PI (last author in my field) typically will. Sometimes students/postdocs feel robbed of their ownership of the paper if they are not listed as the corresponding author. In those cases, whenever possible (which is often in my field) I request that both the student/postdoc and I, the PI, be listed as corresponding authors.
2) Dr. Sneetch (awesome and on the tenure track) wondered how to deal with a belligerent co-PI who would love nothing more than to take his/her share of money on an awarded grant and do something barely related to the work described in the grant, leaving the PI to justify the detour to the program officer.
Sneetch, I don't have first-hand experience (PI on a grant where someone just takes the money and does something totally unrelated) but I have had the experience of being a co-PI on a multi-investigator grant where another co-PI has either gone off and done the same (blown money on whatever), and then either severed all communication with the rest of the team or tried to argue that he is of course doing stuff related to the main project. Such a renegade co-PI indeed endangers the whole project and chances of renewal (especially in DOD agencies, where you better do what you promised and not aggravate your program officer).
I understand your frustration. You are unfortunately not tenured, so you have to tread lightly around asshole senior colleagues. Rule No 1 -- never again engage in additional collaborative proposals with a person who would not honor the project. It's not worth it, find someone else to do the same work even if at another university. As for the grant(s) you currently have where a colleague has gone over to do his own thing, how is the money managed? Is it a common account, or do you make small subaccounts for each co-PI? If the latter, you are kind of screwed. If the former, I think nominally all expenses would have to go through you and you have veto power.
Anyhoo, if you are the PI and one co-PI is asking to do something unrelated to the main project and you really think it's too far out and are uncomfortable supporting this change of direction, I would employ the good old "it's not me, it's the program officer" routine: tell him that you think you have no problem with it, but that you talked to the program officer (even if you didn't) and the PO doesn't agree it's within the scope of the program, so your hands are tied even though you would really really like to help/comply. *bat eyelashes here*
If you are actually OK with changing the scope and it's NSF, you can fill out the "change of scope" or similar forms when you submit annual report, and you should consult with the PO as soon as possible to get the formal OK from him/her. (Many PO's at the NSF don't care about a reasonable change of scope as long as you crank out good papers.) Other agencies have similar mechanisms to change scope -- but only if you as the PI are OK with the change. If you are not, as I said, play powerless and blame it on the program officer that your hands are tied -- this until you get tenure; once you are tenured, just say "Sorry, no."
3) Massimo muses on the appropriate etiquette for academic job seekers with multiple offers.
After I had interviewed (has it been 7 years already?), the first offer I received was from my first choice (among the places I interviewed), let’s call it Uni A, and they gave me something like 4 weeks to respond; the second offer came a week later, from Uni B. After hearing that I had received an offer already, Uni B gave me a week to decide. Actually, Uni B had been the first to interview me, more than a month before any other; I liked them a lot, and if they had been prompt about making me an offer, I would have likely taken it. Instead, they waited more than 2 months to give me an offer, during which I had two more interviews and fell in love with my current place (Uni A). I ended up deciding about 10 days after receiving the 1st offer (from Uni A), and 2-3 days after receiving the offer from Uni B. At that time, I also withdrew my application from Uni C, the third place where I had interviewed only a couple of days before the first offer came in; I knew I would never consider Uni C's offer as competitive to those of Uni A or B (too high of a teaching load and part of the country I would really not want to live in if I could help it -- bad public schools, a very red state); a couple of people actually suggested I should wait to see if I could get an offer from Uni C too, just to see if I could get 3 out of 3, but I thought that would be totally unethical and douchebaggy of me.
Anyway, I think it’s important to assess whether the candidate genuinely seems like he/she would want to work at your university. Sometimes we get these excellent candidates, but they don’t click, there is a marked lack of interest on their part, yet we still give them offers and waste a lot of time waiting and they of course don’t accept. For instance, we interviewed a woman a few years back, she had 6 or 7 interviews that year. She gave a great talk and had a stellar record, but you could tell she didn’t particularly care about the impression she left on us; she had her sights set on greener pastures. That’s quite alright, but we ended up giving her an offer anyway, which she of course declined, and we ended up wasting a lot of time on her that year and ended up hiring no one.
I am contrasting this with another excellent candidate where there was an instant chemistry with everyone in the department and he was genuinely excited about the city and the potential collaborators. You could tell he would be a great fit, and he really is! My interview was a bit like that — love at first sight, both with the city and the potential collaborations. I never regretted my decision.
4) Dr. Sneetch wonders how much her career suffers when she temporarily slows down due to childcare obligation.
One piece of advice is not to overshare with people at work what your absences mean. I learned this from a senior female colleague who is a master of maintaining the aura of aloofness that makes everyone think she's some kind of deity. You are covering your teaching and non-negotiable service, and that's great. How you organize your time beyond that -- well, it's (almost) nobody's business. You could be going to a string of conferences or review panels, right? You are simply not available -- that's what most people need to know. What it is that you are doing in that time -- most people need not know.
That colleague I mentioned -- she only says "This week does not work for me." No explanation. If you want her time, you have to propose another date and time. Whether she is doing aerobics all week, or is at a conference, or her kid is sick -- no one knows.
Anecdotally, when men are away, people assume they are away on business. When women are away, people assume it's family. Don't give them more ammunition to further stereotype you.
And don't worry about putting research on the back burner temporarily. The work-family balance is never a balance; more like a seesaw. When a kid is sick, of course research is a lower priority. In my experience kids really seem not to get sick very often past a year or two in a childcare setting.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
No Funding Stone Unturned
For several weeks now, I have been trying to give birth to a white paper.* I do not use the term "giving birth" lightly -- cobbling up this puny three-pager has been a surprisingly painful process. This is from someone who (a) had children, and (b) really enjoys writing.
It's one of those things that we, the fishnet-stocking-wearing scientists (as my dear PhD advisor used to say) have to do: we apply for funding to do certain projects because someone else is interested in them, that someone potentially has the money to fund the work, and we happen to be able to do it. It sounds like a match made in heaven, if it weren't for the fact that the party proposing the work (that would be mois) is really not all that enthusiastic about doing it.
It's work in a field that I occasionally dabble in (I have some on-again, off-again experimental collaborators in the field), and it's never really struck my fancy... I don't know why, I guess it's a bit too applied for my taste. The field has a tremendous technological potential and there are some important open issues that I am perfectly capable of addressing theoretically; there is actually a veritable shortage of people with my background attacking problems in this field, and some of the techniques I have developed for a different class of problems in a different field would translate well here. My previous dabblings into the same field resulted in some well-cited papers, precisely because I brought something new and addressed a few outstanding problems that were there, untouched but ripe for the pickings. This sounds like a potential for a breakthrough, right?
The issue is that I cannot get excited about these problems. It's not that they are simple or unimportant; it's that the level at which I am interested in these problems (more basic, general outlook) is not the level that interests most people or funding bodies (very applied, milestone-oriented, structure-specific outlook).
So I have been gnawing at this little white paper, trying to present what I would like to do (address a large class of problems via kick-ass advances in theory/simulation) within the context that would not put a more application-oriented reader (e.g. the program manager or my experimental collaborator) to sleep or in a state of shock. I have been reading a lot (A LOT) of papers to be able to present that I am really abreast of the latest application developments, and I am pulling my hair at how bored I am while reading. So yes, the three-page white paper has been sucking the life out of me.
Why do I do it, you ask? I am trying to tap the funding potential of an agency I haven't dealt with before. First, I sent emails to all program managers in my general area, and I suggested 5-6 topics that I could potentially work on, with a paragraph-long writeup for each. One manager invited a white paper on one of the proposed topics, and the rest is history. It's inevitable: in order to keep going, you have to mold yourself to how the funding winds blow. I suppose the key to keeping sanity is having at least one project of passion to balance out those that don't make the heart flutter. I am hoping that the funding decisions on my pending proposals enable me to maintain my passion projects. But, they may or may not. In the meantime, here I am, making sure I leave no funding stone unturned.
------
* A white paper is a 2-3 page document in which you pitch your proposal idea to a program manager at a funding agency. Based on the white paper, the program manager will encourage or discourage submission of a full proposal, or may suggest sending it to another person at the same agency. In my physical sciences field, white papers are a standard informal prelude to full proposals in all DoD agencies and DOE. They are also a good idea with the NSF if you are not familiar with the program director or are unsure which program to send to.
It's one of those things that we, the fishnet-stocking-wearing scientists (as my dear PhD advisor used to say) have to do: we apply for funding to do certain projects because someone else is interested in them, that someone potentially has the money to fund the work, and we happen to be able to do it. It sounds like a match made in heaven, if it weren't for the fact that the party proposing the work (that would be mois) is really not all that enthusiastic about doing it.
It's work in a field that I occasionally dabble in (I have some on-again, off-again experimental collaborators in the field), and it's never really struck my fancy... I don't know why, I guess it's a bit too applied for my taste. The field has a tremendous technological potential and there are some important open issues that I am perfectly capable of addressing theoretically; there is actually a veritable shortage of people with my background attacking problems in this field, and some of the techniques I have developed for a different class of problems in a different field would translate well here. My previous dabblings into the same field resulted in some well-cited papers, precisely because I brought something new and addressed a few outstanding problems that were there, untouched but ripe for the pickings. This sounds like a potential for a breakthrough, right?
The issue is that I cannot get excited about these problems. It's not that they are simple or unimportant; it's that the level at which I am interested in these problems (more basic, general outlook) is not the level that interests most people or funding bodies (very applied, milestone-oriented, structure-specific outlook).
So I have been gnawing at this little white paper, trying to present what I would like to do (address a large class of problems via kick-ass advances in theory/simulation) within the context that would not put a more application-oriented reader (e.g. the program manager or my experimental collaborator) to sleep or in a state of shock. I have been reading a lot (A LOT) of papers to be able to present that I am really abreast of the latest application developments, and I am pulling my hair at how bored I am while reading. So yes, the three-page white paper has been sucking the life out of me.
Why do I do it, you ask? I am trying to tap the funding potential of an agency I haven't dealt with before. First, I sent emails to all program managers in my general area, and I suggested 5-6 topics that I could potentially work on, with a paragraph-long writeup for each. One manager invited a white paper on one of the proposed topics, and the rest is history. It's inevitable: in order to keep going, you have to mold yourself to how the funding winds blow. I suppose the key to keeping sanity is having at least one project of passion to balance out those that don't make the heart flutter. I am hoping that the funding decisions on my pending proposals enable me to maintain my passion projects. But, they may or may not. In the meantime, here I am, making sure I leave no funding stone unturned.
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* A white paper is a 2-3 page document in which you pitch your proposal idea to a program manager at a funding agency. Based on the white paper, the program manager will encourage or discourage submission of a full proposal, or may suggest sending it to another person at the same agency. In my physical sciences field, white papers are a standard informal prelude to full proposals in all DoD agencies and DOE. They are also a good idea with the NSF if you are not familiar with the program director or are unsure which program to send to.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Preggie Bits
I am rapidly acquiring a perfectly spherically-symmetric physique. While I am particularly fond of the idea that my symmetries are being captured by the SO(3) group and I generally love all objects of high symmetry, becoming one is a pain. Literally. I am totally disgusting: my back hurts, my tail bone hurts (?!) I waddle like an oversize duck and, being quite tall, cause atmospheric disturbances due to my huge waddling amplitudes. I am uncomfortable in many ways, including clogged nasal passages, overactive digestive tract, and having to sit in faculty meetings. Alright, you caught me, not all my discomforts are pregnancy-related.
Pregnancy is for young people, no doubt about that; but, Gap apparently thinks all pregnant women are cute (and rich) teenagers: I bought a pair of preggie "distressed" jeans at Gap online, thinking of the usual distress features on the waist, pockets, and hems. I got a pair with a huge hole in the middle of a thigh. WTF? That does not look cute on anyone past the age of 19. I had to angrily waddle all the way to the mall to return them.
I have told my group members about the pregnancy. I was going to have them figure it out eventually, but they kept asking why I would be out of commission past a certain date and why they all have to turn in papers promptly and whether I would be available at all past the magical date, so I eventually told them. It's weird, announcing pregnancy to a room full of 20-something guys. Should have sent an email.
I also told my department chair and a few close collaborators (mostly men), and they have all been surprisingly sweet about it. One of them commented (via email) "You need to figure out how not to have babies. There are ways, you know." Perhaps it sounds like I should be upset about this comment, but I chose to take it with humor because the colleague (a) has 3 kids himself, (b) is a goofball, (c) has generally been a wonderful and supportive mentor to me, and I responded that I really really like my husband so it cannot be helped. The colleague then followed up by sharing that he himself had gotten snipped (TMI?) and how it's not a big deal -- I wonder if I should send my husband to him for a pep talk? ;)
It is becoming clear to other people too (I am in week 29) that I may not be simply giving in to my lust for chocolate, but that there may be an alternative explanation for my "broadening." One of the most amusing parts of being pregnant is watching people squirm as they figure out something's going on around the middle, but are unsure if it's pregnancy or overeating and are too embarrassed to ask! The last time around, there were people reluctant to say anything even as I was getting ready to pop, and I thought to myself "Come on, dude, I am not that fat!!! I think it's safe to assume I'm pregnant now. Can't you see I am about to topple over?"
The pregnancy also reminds me of how fast flies. A full academic year can easily go by without me running into some dear colleagues from nearby departments. You can tell that getting together for lunch has been long overdue when you ask "So what's new with you?" and the other person responds "Oh, I had a new baby 6 months ago." I am also reminded of a most ridiculous display of administrative inefficiency: before my last pregnancy, a university account was supposed to be opened with me as the PI. The paperwork was filed, I got pregnant, carried the child to term, and only after I delivered was the account opened. There should be something like the Law of Maximal Reasonable Processing Times: No intra-university paperwork should take longer than it takes to gestate a child.
Pregnancy is for young people, no doubt about that; but, Gap apparently thinks all pregnant women are cute (and rich) teenagers: I bought a pair of preggie "distressed" jeans at Gap online, thinking of the usual distress features on the waist, pockets, and hems. I got a pair with a huge hole in the middle of a thigh. WTF? That does not look cute on anyone past the age of 19. I had to angrily waddle all the way to the mall to return them.
I have told my group members about the pregnancy. I was going to have them figure it out eventually, but they kept asking why I would be out of commission past a certain date and why they all have to turn in papers promptly and whether I would be available at all past the magical date, so I eventually told them. It's weird, announcing pregnancy to a room full of 20-something guys. Should have sent an email.
I also told my department chair and a few close collaborators (mostly men), and they have all been surprisingly sweet about it. One of them commented (via email) "You need to figure out how not to have babies. There are ways, you know." Perhaps it sounds like I should be upset about this comment, but I chose to take it with humor because the colleague (a) has 3 kids himself, (b) is a goofball, (c) has generally been a wonderful and supportive mentor to me, and I responded that I really really like my husband so it cannot be helped. The colleague then followed up by sharing that he himself had gotten snipped (TMI?) and how it's not a big deal -- I wonder if I should send my husband to him for a pep talk? ;)
It is becoming clear to other people too (I am in week 29) that I may not be simply giving in to my lust for chocolate, but that there may be an alternative explanation for my "broadening." One of the most amusing parts of being pregnant is watching people squirm as they figure out something's going on around the middle, but are unsure if it's pregnancy or overeating and are too embarrassed to ask! The last time around, there were people reluctant to say anything even as I was getting ready to pop, and I thought to myself "Come on, dude, I am not that fat!!! I think it's safe to assume I'm pregnant now. Can't you see I am about to topple over?"
The pregnancy also reminds me of how fast flies. A full academic year can easily go by without me running into some dear colleagues from nearby departments. You can tell that getting together for lunch has been long overdue when you ask "So what's new with you?" and the other person responds "Oh, I had a new baby 6 months ago." I am also reminded of a most ridiculous display of administrative inefficiency: before my last pregnancy, a university account was supposed to be opened with me as the PI. The paperwork was filed, I got pregnant, carried the child to term, and only after I delivered was the account opened. There should be something like the Law of Maximal Reasonable Processing Times: No intra-university paperwork should take longer than it takes to gestate a child.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Recruitment Time Blues
'Tis that time of year again. The time when grad students receive offers from multiple universities, and faculty are trying to attract the best possible younglings.
Mine is a large public R1 university, the state's flagship, with several top-10 ranked STEM departments and many in the top 20 in their respective fields (mine is ranked 14 or 15). So it's a very good school, but still not a FancyPants Private U. We almost invariably lose good candidates to private schools. I am in a department that does not offer many fellowships or teaching assistantships, so most financial offers to incoming graduate students have to be research assistantship offers, made by individual faculty. (For biomed readers: we don't do rotations.) At best, you meet some applicants at the open house (only those from a few neighboring states are invited in the case of my department), but I rarely find any students I like at these events, and those I do like typically have other attractive options.
The work I do requires a very strong math and physics background, which is often found in international candidates, so my group has a number of international students. With international students, it's really hard to recruit. You go by the BS school's reputation, letters of reference, test scores, talk to them on the phone, exchange emails. It's still hit or miss. For instance, from the same excellent international school I have had one stellar student and one complete dud, who both came in with very strong and very similar records. With international students you have less ability to do a thorough pre-screen because they are remote, so there is a greater chance for an advisor/advisee mismatch. On the other hand, the commitment to fund an international student is quite serious: if without funding, international students cannot pick up a McJob to support themselves or pay the tuition, they cannot always qualify for TA-ships because of language skills, and their dropping out of good standing as a student endangers their ability to stay in the country. If a student -- domestic or international -- doesn't work out, you have to suck it up and pay them until they find another advisor, but this aspect has added importance for international students who usually have absolutely no financial safety net.
I have also been trying to grow my own grad students, i.e., recruit them in my undergraduate courses and have them do research with my group for a summer or two, or at a lower pace over the semester. The good ones usually do it for the letters of recommendation and the fact that they got research experience, and then go on to greener pastures. And that's quite alright. Sometimes, though, you invest considerably more time in some students and they aren't very forthcoming about their plans: my most recent disappointment is a kid, an undergrad who was with the group for two summers and three semesters, coauthored a couple of papers (was one of the middle authors, did small, specific calculations in a large team). He sent a couple of grad school applications to private schools, but was saying the entire time that he planned on staying here for grad school because of family. I helped him write 3 fellowship applications (based on ideas in my larger grant proposals) to federal agencies to help support his studies here. Now he got admitted, with a lucrative first-year fellowship, to a FancyPants Private U, and has jumped on the offer like a kid into a pool of ice cream. I know that pedigree of the PhD institution matters, and that for his career the move is the right one. Still, I am disappointed as I spent a lot of time and energy on him, and some other place gets to cash in on a well-trained student, experienced in research, who may also end up getting a fellowship based on my grant proposal ideas. It's a great deal for the FancyPants Private U. (Ironically, their department is not more highly ranked than mine, but the overall name recognition trumps everything.)
The part that I hate the most is "the recruitment courtship." To stellar candidates, someone in a school like mine is never first choice; I know that very well and ask each potential candidate to tell me honestly what their first choices are, and that if they don't work out we can talk. But, many good candidates feel they need to pretend that my group is their first choice, so we go through this elaborate dance where they swear they are dead serious about coming here, make me issue RA offer letter and everything, only to yet again reveal that they were waiting for an offer from a more prestigious place the entire time. What I hate the most are the patronizing email apologies for not coming here, which come from feeling very smug because multiple places want them. *eyeroll* Whatevs, kid, happy trails.
I don't think there is a magic formula for recruiting good students while not at a FancyPants Private U (perhaps even if you are). When recruiting, I mostly go by the BS school's reputation and look for candidates with excellent undergraduate records and some research experience, but those who may be passed up by FancyPants Private U's because the record has a blemish (e.g., perhaps less than stellar GRE scores). My most recently hired student, who looks like he will be awesome, fits this recruitment pattern. Another way is going by recommendations: my best student so far looked nothing special on paper, but I hired him based on a recommendation from a trusted colleague, and it worked out great.
What is your recruitment strategy for graduate students -- especially if you have no benefit of testing the student out through rotations, but rather have to take him/her on, with pay, essentially sight unseen?
Mine is a large public R1 university, the state's flagship, with several top-10 ranked STEM departments and many in the top 20 in their respective fields (mine is ranked 14 or 15). So it's a very good school, but still not a FancyPants Private U. We almost invariably lose good candidates to private schools. I am in a department that does not offer many fellowships or teaching assistantships, so most financial offers to incoming graduate students have to be research assistantship offers, made by individual faculty. (For biomed readers: we don't do rotations.) At best, you meet some applicants at the open house (only those from a few neighboring states are invited in the case of my department), but I rarely find any students I like at these events, and those I do like typically have other attractive options.
The work I do requires a very strong math and physics background, which is often found in international candidates, so my group has a number of international students. With international students, it's really hard to recruit. You go by the BS school's reputation, letters of reference, test scores, talk to them on the phone, exchange emails. It's still hit or miss. For instance, from the same excellent international school I have had one stellar student and one complete dud, who both came in with very strong and very similar records. With international students you have less ability to do a thorough pre-screen because they are remote, so there is a greater chance for an advisor/advisee mismatch. On the other hand, the commitment to fund an international student is quite serious: if without funding, international students cannot pick up a McJob to support themselves or pay the tuition, they cannot always qualify for TA-ships because of language skills, and their dropping out of good standing as a student endangers their ability to stay in the country. If a student -- domestic or international -- doesn't work out, you have to suck it up and pay them until they find another advisor, but this aspect has added importance for international students who usually have absolutely no financial safety net.
I have also been trying to grow my own grad students, i.e., recruit them in my undergraduate courses and have them do research with my group for a summer or two, or at a lower pace over the semester. The good ones usually do it for the letters of recommendation and the fact that they got research experience, and then go on to greener pastures. And that's quite alright. Sometimes, though, you invest considerably more time in some students and they aren't very forthcoming about their plans: my most recent disappointment is a kid, an undergrad who was with the group for two summers and three semesters, coauthored a couple of papers (was one of the middle authors, did small, specific calculations in a large team). He sent a couple of grad school applications to private schools, but was saying the entire time that he planned on staying here for grad school because of family. I helped him write 3 fellowship applications (based on ideas in my larger grant proposals) to federal agencies to help support his studies here. Now he got admitted, with a lucrative first-year fellowship, to a FancyPants Private U, and has jumped on the offer like a kid into a pool of ice cream. I know that pedigree of the PhD institution matters, and that for his career the move is the right one. Still, I am disappointed as I spent a lot of time and energy on him, and some other place gets to cash in on a well-trained student, experienced in research, who may also end up getting a fellowship based on my grant proposal ideas. It's a great deal for the FancyPants Private U. (Ironically, their department is not more highly ranked than mine, but the overall name recognition trumps everything.)
The part that I hate the most is "the recruitment courtship." To stellar candidates, someone in a school like mine is never first choice; I know that very well and ask each potential candidate to tell me honestly what their first choices are, and that if they don't work out we can talk. But, many good candidates feel they need to pretend that my group is their first choice, so we go through this elaborate dance where they swear they are dead serious about coming here, make me issue RA offer letter and everything, only to yet again reveal that they were waiting for an offer from a more prestigious place the entire time. What I hate the most are the patronizing email apologies for not coming here, which come from feeling very smug because multiple places want them. *eyeroll* Whatevs, kid, happy trails.
I don't think there is a magic formula for recruiting good students while not at a FancyPants Private U (perhaps even if you are). When recruiting, I mostly go by the BS school's reputation and look for candidates with excellent undergraduate records and some research experience, but those who may be passed up by FancyPants Private U's because the record has a blemish (e.g., perhaps less than stellar GRE scores). My most recently hired student, who looks like he will be awesome, fits this recruitment pattern. Another way is going by recommendations: my best student so far looked nothing special on paper, but I hired him based on a recommendation from a trusted colleague, and it worked out great.
What is your recruitment strategy for graduate students -- especially if you have no benefit of testing the student out through rotations, but rather have to take him/her on, with pay, essentially sight unseen?
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