Sometimes I wonder why so many PhD and postdoctoral trainees go into industry or public policy rather than academic science. Sure, who doesn’t want new therapeutics and a longer lifespan, but as a graduate student considering a career, the last thing I wanted was a boss. My department chair and dean might take offense, but they both know what I mean.
Seriously, I am proud to have mentored many trainees on a path to successful non-academic careers to which they are well suited. Some hold high-level positions in pharma and medical device companies. Two are in federal regulatory agencies. One previous student is now Deputy Executive Director of Rainforest Action Network, calling out corporations for destroying critical ecosystems and exploiting vulnerable human populations working in subhuman conditions. She actually is saving the world.
But in this column, I want to focus on the trainee still considering all options, and I’m making a full-throated case for academic science. As a faculty member at a research-intensive university, I decide what warrants investment of my time, and the opportunity to observe and create new science waits around every corner. I use my privilege to find the resources to pursue questions that compel me or members of my team. If I bring in plenty of research funding, my department chair and dean pretty much leave me alone. Some days I fail. Some days are hard. It takes perseverance, but it’s easier than you think.
If I may offer some unsolicited advice to aspiring independent scientists, your first task is to ignore your mentor’s constant complaining about grant writing and workloads. Treat them as you would a fussy baby who fights sleep in the crib or a pandemic puppy who is training you to feed him from the table. Your supervisor is probably just feeling guilty for how hard you work and wants you to think that she is suffering as well. It’s too bad the conversations aren’t more like: “I woke up in the middle of the night with a conceptual breakthrough on my grant, and I’m feeling really good about that” or “Have you planned your vacation yet? I’m going to take three weeks climbing in Patagonia, because I can!” How about, “The results of your experiment are going to win me the Nobel Prize!” I exaggerate, but you get the idea. It’s a good gig.
The more common rewards are in making new discoveries that fuel your research for years to come, with lots of new insights; shepherding your trainees through their intellectual and personal journeys as successful scientists; and having a high-impact career giving you just enough flexibility to protect your children from becoming feral. Oh, and making more money than any of your trainees know, unless they look you up in public records.
On a virtual seminar visit to a major research institution last year, the usual lunch meeting with trainees quickly focused on a central question: how do you establish yourself in a competitive field? It happened that all five were postdocs doing single-particle cryo-EM, but there are many fields where trainees similarly feel that the “really smart people” are asking “all the good questions.” How can they possibly compete?
Some scientists come by it naturally, but many successful ones have had to learn. Here’s my advice: train your unwavering gaze on your data like a vexing crossword puzzle or a love interest whose thoughts you’re sure must be deeper. Don’t wait to examine your data until you’ve turned those current traces into inactivation time constants represented by means and standard errors; at that point you might have assessed your hypothesis but missed unexpected, more important effects. Maybe there are questions waiting to be answered in your cryo-EM structures, yielding testable hypotheses about dynamics. You never know, one of these observations might uncover a new target for disease or therapeutic intervention or illuminate a whole new field of basic inquiry. Equally important, they may engender self-confidence that you have what it takes to follow the data, generate critical hypotheses, and embrace your scientific creativity.
So how do you do it? Fight paralysis and get busy. Try stuff. Those experiments aren’t gonna conduct themselves. Even if it’s not true for Saturday night’s date, your data might hold deep and nuanced answers to questions you haven’t even asked. Start with simpler questions that yield testable hypotheses. Don’t avoid careful planning and experimental design. Pivot without resistance when necessary. Read like crazy, including outside your field, so your mind is prepared when something unexpected happens, when one of your controls goes wonky. And when it does, follow that lead. There. You’re on your way. I think you want to be an academic scientist, but you’re afraid. Have a little faith in you.
Of course, like any job worth doing, this one has many challenges. However, there is no required pedigree, or schedule, or prescribed path that you must follow. Frances Separovic, Past-President of the Biophysical Society, completed her PhD in physics part-time as a single parent. She was 38 years old. She was among the earliest adopters of nuclear magnetic resonance in the study of membranes and their interactions with proteins. Despite what might be considered a “slow start,” she has many “first woman” accolades, boasts an h-index of 60 and 13,000 citations, and currently leads a group at the University of Melbourne’s Bio21 Institute.
Another trailblazer is the award-winning author of Between the World and Me, Ta-nehisi Coates, who said that his place was not in the classroom but in the library, where he was “an unruly learner.” This description applies to many of us. Neuroscientist Andy Frank from the University of Iowa applauds the unruly among us in a must-read tweet: https://twitter.com/CAndrewFrank/status/1519345963747393537. He identifies in his poetic piece “The Best Scientists” as nearly every kind of scientist, with many variations for the academic. What kind are you? What will be your singular strengths when you reflect on your career in 10, 20, or 40 years from now? Where is your place, unruly learner?
—Gail Robertson, President