[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

Some say that you go to college to find out who you really are, but I say that undergrad is just the starting point. Maybe you agonized for the first couple years about your major, or you had your next ten years planned out since high school — give or take changes once actually reaching university. For those who end academia at a Bachelor’s, sure, that’s enough to get a job and to establish a career. From there, real life, and the real you.

However, for the poor wretches who choose to stay in the protective cocoon of Academia, even grad school may only be a step in development. We are expected to have a solid background in our department, knowledge in all subfields (or the ability to cram it in the week before prelims), and a fund-able project to pursue for the next 4–8 years. We are expected to work much, sleep little, and produce small miracles on a small salary. It is doable, yet it also feels as though we are kept too busy to take a step back and evaluate our lives. Being grounded only by science is a precarious situation — what if your research fails? Any amount of intelligence cannot force nature to act otherwise. Is self-reflection a necessity? No, not to your adviser. Past age 25 or so, though, we really are in the regime of adulthood. (Then again, many “real” adults haven’t a clue about what to do with THEIR lives, either.)

Sometimes it also feels as though grad school is simply a rite of passage. Our superiors went through the same process, with varying degrees of pain and toil. We are then expected to have that PhD and list of publications on our resumés — the stamp of approval that magically reflects our capabilities as researchers, multi-taskers, and not-completely-insane individuals. It isn’t for everyone, but I can already feel the disdain of some “higher-ups” if I announce my decision to leave academia with only a Master’s. (The reasons why are for a future post.)

It’s been less than a year since I became a grad student, and there’s still much to learn. For now, my most far-reaching question remains: Is it worth pursuing a PhD? Either I haven’t found the right project or group to excite me, or research just isn’t my thing…

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl, who is blogging from the Spring 2010 Materials Research Society meeting.]

There often exists an unfortunate lack of connection between presenter and audience. What with non-native English speakers – bless them – insufficient amplification, convoluted PowerPoint, and all the rest, we all may find ourselves itching to be at another symposium. Unfortunately, leaving mid-talk constitutes disruption and some insult to the presenter. (I’ve made it a habit to sit unobtrusively in a corner, and to only sneak out of large, full rooms when the speaker’s back is turned.)

This introduces the subject of attendee etiquette. Half of the audience may walk in late or leave midway through a presentation, although that can be excused in light of travel considerations, lack of personal relevancy, etc. Much less forgivable is the making of excess noise during talks, or squeezing past people to reach a seat near the front. (It’s really not hard to stay in the back, and to wait until questions are finished to move around! Most people do, but occasionally someone bustles about loudly.) Perhaps the worst offence is maintaining noisy conversations outside in the hall, or even in the room. The perpetrators’ voices might be at their normal speaking volume, but everything is loud to the audience of a silent room. All of these annoyances can be avoided with a little bit of consideration…

We might also consider direct interaction, where occasionally some poor young graduate gets ripped apart by a cantankerous researcher, or a combative questioner harasses speakers over minor details. Probing questions and challenging ideas are helpful, but personal/professional/political issues are best left for private debate! As Tim Miller noted in his excellent seminar, Mastering Science Presentations, it is best for all parties to maintain complete civility and to firmly disregard unscientific impoliteness.

On another note, the clothing ranges from business suits and dress shirts, to jeans and t-shirts – sometimes even flip flops! Personally, it feels awkward to wear anything short of a black coat, slacks, heels/boots, etc. (So I generally resemble a character from the Matrix. Or a dude.) Attire is a minor issue, though, particularly since most attendees are males whose formalwear is relatively comfortable and easily come by.

So, considering general dress and behavior (aside from interpersonal relations), conference etiquette boils down to a major question: how stiff and formal are we expected to be?

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl, who is blogging from the Spring 2010 Materials Research Society meeting.]

There often exists an unfortunate lack of connection between presenter and audience. What with non-native English speakers – bless them – insufficient amplification, convoluted PowerPoint, and all the rest, we all may find ourselves itching to be at another symposium. Unfortunately, leaving mid-talk constitutes disruption and some insult to the presenter. (I’ve made it a habit to sit unobtrusively in a corner, and to only sneak out of large, full rooms when the speaker’s back is turned.)

This introduces the subject of attendee etiquette. Half of the audience may walk in late or leave midway through a presentation, although that can be excused in light of travel considerations, lack of personal relevancy, etc. Much less forgivable is the making of excess noise during talks, or squeezing past people to reach a seat near the front. (It’s really not hard to stay in the back, and to wait until questions are finished to move around! Most people do, but occasionally someone bustles about loudly.) Perhaps the worst offence is maintaining noisy conversations outside in the hall, or even in the room. The perpetrators’ voices might be at their normal speaking volume, but everything is loud to the audience of a silent room. All of these annoyances can be avoided with a little bit of consideration…

We might also consider direct interaction, where occasionally some poor young graduate gets ripped apart by a cantankerous researcher, or a combative questioner harasses speakers over minor details. Probing questions and challenging ideas are helpful, but personal/professional/political issues are best left for private debate! As Tim Miller noted in his excellent seminar, Mastering Science Presentations, it is best for all parties to maintain complete civility and to firmly disregard unscientific impoliteness.

On another note, the clothing ranges from business suits and dress shirts, to jeans and t-shirts – sometimes even flip flops! Personally, it feels awkward to wear anything short of a black coat, slacks, heels/boots, etc. (So I generally resemble a character from the Matrix. Or a dude.) Attire is a minor issue, though, particularly since most attendees are males whose formalwear is relatively comfortable and easily come by.

So, considering general dress and behavior (aside from interpersonal relations), conference etiquette boils down to a major question: how stiff and formal are we expected to be?

[This post was written on Wednesday morning by Materials Girl]

Today, I deviated from the myriad of technical talks and attended some on education (while sadly sacrificing those regarding nanotechnology and food). Teaching — as with food and chocolate — also seems to be a topic with a majority of female attendees. Hmm.

We were there to consider “Students’ misconceptions about periodic table properties and its implications to learning chemistry.” Professor Salame used a classic example of memorization without understanding: atomic radius, where students commonly “learn” by memorizing the up-down/left-right trends. But we all knew that – a probing exam will require, say, a short explanation as to why chlorine or fluorine is bigger. The speaker said as much, showing statistics from his classes and giving various quotes of students’ incorrect answers. It’s reminiscent of the DON’T PUT FIVE BONDS ON CARBON days from o-chem. Hilarious, although terribly tragic.

At the end of the talk, several audience members ardently discussed how to mark a particular answer; having painfully graded many exams, I know the difficulties of evaluating a student’s understanding based on an incorrect response. However, none of the audience members addressed the issue that THEY might be part of the problem. If these concepts are so simple, why haven’t they been able to communicate them? Or is it a question of students’ innate [in]ability to understand chemistry? Maybe this student didn’t care about the subject, or that one happened to miss some details in his notes, or another was sick during the exam. Or maybe their professors failed to effectively teach their students.

This brings up an issue I had as an undergrad, studying at a large, well-respected research university. My professors were brilliant researchers, but they were often mediocre educators. Most of the best teachers I had were not tenured professors; I suspect that deep down, many of those with tenure only cared about their research. The topics they taught were “simple” or “easy”, so skipping details and skimming over new material once was sufficient teaching – for them. Those brilliant professors didn’t understand why the wretched undergrads (and even grad students!) had such low test scores…

Ultimately, who is to blame for a student’s failure to comprehend concepts or to perform well on exams? Teaching is difficult, we get it. (I’m currently on both ends of the student-teacher spectrum, and each position comes with its own challenges and rewards.) Still, passion for any subject can shine through teaching, promoting curiosity in those who hear it. Success boils down to effort. If professors care more to teach properly, then students might also invest more time in learning properly.

Back to the talk. Bottom line: don’t just require simple answers to exam questions. Ask for some reasoning – but only after you’ve taught your students well enough.

[This post was written on Wednesday morning by Materials Girl]

Today, I deviated from the myriad of technical talks and attended some on education (while sadly sacrificing those regarding nanotechnology and food). Teaching — as with food and chocolate — also seems to be a topic with a majority of female attendees. Hmm.

We were there to consider “Students’ misconceptions about periodic table properties and its implications to learning chemistry.” Professor Salame used a classic example of memorization without understanding: atomic radius, where students commonly “learn” by memorizing the up-down/left-right trends. But we all knew that – a probing exam will require, say, a short explanation as to why chlorine or fluorine is bigger. The speaker said as much, showing statistics from his classes and giving various quotes of students’ incorrect answers. It’s reminiscent of the DON’T PUT FIVE BONDS ON CARBON days from o-chem. Hilarious, although terribly tragic.

At the end of the talk, several audience members ardently discussed how to mark a particular answer; having painfully graded many exams, I know the difficulties of evaluating a student’s understanding based on an incorrect response. However, none of the audience members addressed the issue that THEY might be part of the problem. If these concepts are so simple, why haven’t they been able to communicate them? Or is it a question of students’ innate [in]ability to understand chemistry? Maybe this student didn’t care about the subject, or that one happened to miss some details in his notes, or another was sick during the exam. Or maybe their professors failed to effectively teach their students.

This brings up an issue I had as an undergrad, studying at a large, well-respected research university. My professors were brilliant researchers, but they were often mediocre educators. Most of the best teachers I had were not tenured professors; I suspect that deep down, many of those with tenure only cared about their research. The topics they taught were “simple” or “easy”, so skipping details and skimming over new material once was sufficient teaching – for them. Those brilliant professors didn’t understand why the wretched undergrads (and even grad students!) had such low test scores…

Ultimately, who is to blame for a student’s failure to comprehend concepts or to perform well on exams? Teaching is difficult, we get it. (I’m currently on both ends of the student-teacher spectrum, and each position comes with its own challenges and rewards.) Still, passion for any subject can shine through teaching, promoting curiosity in those who hear it. Success boils down to effort. If professors care more to teach properly, then students might also invest more time in learning properly.

Back to the talk. Bottom line: don’t just require simple answers to exam questions. Ask for some reasoning – but only after you’ve taught your students well enough.

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

On Sunday, I mentioned via Twitter that the longest lines exist for free food. (I could start a blog on how to feed yourself at conferences without spending a dime, give or take a lack of proper nutrition.) In second place are the booths dishing out non-academic freebies, as if oversized t-shirts and logo-covered canvas bags are the key to happiness. On a similar note, the most crowded talk seems to be here, at the Everything You Want to Know About Chocolate program. The organizers knew what they were doing – aside from the obvious appeal of the topic, they will be raffling off at least two massive, 10 lb chunks of bittersweet chocolate [4.5 kg – NW]. “To encourage you to stay until the bittersweet end [of the talk].” Ah, the sneaky wisdom.

Amusingly, the male—female ratio in here has shifted in favor of the ladies. Personally, I’ve never been afflicted by the female mania for chocolate – but nonetheless, lectures on chemistry+food/processing are more compelling than others. This reflects a choice I’ve made for the meeting: I’m going to have fun. Few of the talks relate to my current research and my PI isn’t paying for the trip, so I might as well kick back and learn about completely new topics.

Coming back to the original thought, the close quarters in this room are a bit disconcerting – partially because moving an elbow makes you bump the adjacent person. However, it’s definitely fun to see such relaxed enthusiasm at a technical talk. The studies’ details are interesting, although in the end the message is the same: yes, cocoa-based chocolate is good for you, but no, not in unlimited quantities.

All of us dieters should already know that moderation is the key to success. (Unless you’re one of those scrawny grad students who never eats real meals.) As the saying goes, Il faut souffrir pour etre belle. We must suffer for beauty! Rather like how we must suffer through long hours in the lab for academic survival – if only my research involved food…

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

On Sunday, I mentioned via Twitter that the longest lines exist for free food. (I could start a blog on how to feed yourself at conferences without spending a dime, give or take a lack of proper nutrition.) In second place are the booths dishing out non-academic freebies, as if oversized t-shirts and logo-covered canvas bags are the key to happiness. On a similar note, the most crowded talk seems to be here, at the Everything You Want to Know About Chocolate program. The organizers knew what they were doing – aside from the obvious appeal of the topic, they will be raffling off at least two massive, 10 lb chunks of bittersweet chocolate [4.5 kg – NW]. “To encourage you to stay until the bittersweet end [of the talk].” Ah, the sneaky wisdom.

Amusingly, the male—female ratio in here has shifted in favor of the ladies. Personally, I’ve never been afflicted by the female mania for chocolate – but nonetheless, lectures on chemistry+food/processing are more compelling than others. This reflects a choice I’ve made for the meeting: I’m going to have fun. Few of the talks relate to my current research and my PI isn’t paying for the trip, so I might as well kick back and learn about completely new topics.

Coming back to the original thought, the close quarters in this room are a bit disconcerting – partially because moving an elbow makes you bump the adjacent person. However, it’s definitely fun to see such relaxed enthusiasm at a technical talk. The studies’ details are interesting, although in the end the message is the same: yes, cocoa-based chocolate is good for you, but no, not in unlimited quantities.

All of us dieters should already know that moderation is the key to success. (Unless you’re one of those scrawny grad students who never eats real meals.) As the saying goes, Il faut souffrir pour etre belle. We must suffer for beauty! Rather like how we must suffer through long hours in the lab for academic survival – if only my research involved food…

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

According to the flight attendant on intercom, we arrived in “the beautiful tropical paradise” of San Francisco. Hah! Compared to the freezing weather elsewhere, 50-60 °F [10-15.55555 °C – NW] probably is a true paradise, but the joke also felt like a jab towards those of us not running wild on spring break (I never was one of those undergrads). Really, though, this is another sort of paradise – or at least a nice vacation. Winter finals are over, traveling is a rare luxury for me, and, most importantly, I have a valid excuse to be away from the lab. It’s my first ACS meeting!

Conventions are all about connections, and before they start it’s a good idea to check out the digital landscape. For example, if you kept up with The Sceptical Chymist (and Twitter) you would know that some Nature editors might be heading to SF. I hadn’t, actually, hence Gavin’s post was fresh news when I took an internet break at 8pm. Aside from helpful tips for a first-timer, it was revealed that Nature Publishing Group had a stand in Moscone Center…

And so, near the end of the first day exposition, a lone student limped over to booth #1000 on a mission to find Gavin. “Hi, I’m Materials Girl! How’s life in London?” That was me – cheerful, but bleary eyed and ruing the invention of the 3” stiletto heel [76.2 mm – NW] (wisdom dictates that I dress down tomorrow). Despite fatigue, it was the highlight of my day. Meeting people means so much more when you have a tangible connection and a host of topics to discuss. My only complaints are that Neil and Stu are far away – only existing as email addresses and Twitter feeds!

This week will be madness, but I look forward to it. In the meantime, I’ll try to choose which talks to attend, get some sleep, and start following @gav33. It’s already Monday.

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

According to the flight attendant on intercom, we arrived in “the beautiful tropical paradise” of San Francisco. Hah! Compared to the freezing weather elsewhere, 50-60 °F [10-15.55555 °C – NW] probably is a true paradise, but the joke also felt like a jab towards those of us not running wild on spring break (I never was one of those undergrads). Really, though, this is another sort of paradise – or at least a nice vacation. Winter finals are over, traveling is a rare luxury for me, and, most importantly, I have a valid excuse to be away from the lab. It’s my first ACS meeting!

Conventions are all about connections, and before they start it’s a good idea to check out the digital landscape. For example, if you kept up with The Sceptical Chymist (and Twitter) you would know that some Nature editors might be heading to SF. I hadn’t, actually, hence Gavin’s post was fresh news when I took an internet break at 8pm. Aside from helpful tips for a first-timer, it was revealed that Nature Publishing Group had a stand in Moscone Center…

And so, near the end of the first day exposition, a lone student limped over to booth #1000 on a mission to find Gavin. “Hi, I’m Materials Girl! How’s life in London?” That was me – cheerful, but bleary eyed and ruing the invention of the 3” stiletto heel [76.2 mm – NW] (wisdom dictates that I dress down tomorrow). Despite fatigue, it was the highlight of my day. Meeting people means so much more when you have a tangible connection and a host of topics to discuss. My only complaints are that Neil and Stu are far away – only existing as email addresses and Twitter feeds!

This week will be madness, but I look forward to it. In the meantime, I’ll try to choose which talks to attend, get some sleep, and start following @gav33. It’s already Monday.

Posted on behalf of Materials Girl

Fellowship applications are almost done! To quote a confident labmate, in regards to his proposed research, “If [the NSF] doesn’t accept me, they’re jerks*!” (He probably meant to say “sorely misguided”, but was carried away with the emotion.) Ah, if only the government had enough money to fund all of our worthy causes… Academic bailout, anyone?

Despite attempts to avoid the computer, I’ve recently discovered the joy/timesink of other chemistry blogs – of which there are many great ones to choose from. Another grad student stated that he’s the most interested in “crazy, blow stuff* up and post it blogs”. (My engineering coworkers periodically ask when I’m going to start causing explosions. Probably never, unfortunately, unless I defect to inorganic chemistry. However, someone else in our lab did recently get a shower in vacuum pump oil…) Personally, I think any blog is potentially interesting. Regardless of whether or not they relate to science, the topics addressed in blog posts thrive through their delivery – give or take some snark and wit.

One of my favorite posts has been this one, as I’ve always regretted the lack of fitting eyewear for my bridge-less Asian nose. On a more relevant note, another by FemaleScienceProfessor stands out. Here, she ponders the merits and drawbacks of explicitly stating her gender in applications. I have considered that question as a grad student: in the interest of Broader Impacts, should I explicitly state my status as an underrepresented female scientist/engineer? (Side note: my name only implies ethnicity, not gender.) As a proponent of individual merit above all else, I’m not a fan of playing the gender card – I generally rely on expressing my motivation to assist qualified individuals in underrepresented groups. Still, many organizations seek out the extra factor of diversity. How should we convey our membership in underrepresented groups, without detracting from personal merits [that are not based on genetics]?

*Changed by the editor to remove original, more colourful, language