[This is posted on behalf of Materials Girl, who wrote this on a plane last Monday]

Time flies when you’re away from the lab and working across the country in an entirely new habitat! Spending three months in a high-security military lab showed me another side of research – give or take the differences in being a summer intern versus a full-time government employee… Fast forward past my eye-opening summer and the new school year is in full swing. Hoards of undergraduates line the halls while beleaguered grad students* trot amidst them. It’s time to buckle down, start another new project, teach new classes, maintain my lab & student groups, squeeze in conferences, and pump out publications! With a first author paper now under my belt (!!), I am eager to maintain productivity and graduate in style. At least, that’s the plan.

*Speaking of which, PhD comics made a movie – and I’m one of the extras!

Lately, YouKnowWho has frequently been away from the office, so my TA duties have been extended to super-facilitator/undergraduate-wrangler. Also, as the ‘Lab Mom’ and recently incumbent senior-ranking grad student, I’ve been running the group as needed. While this is all fun, it takes a toll on research (and makes me vaguely consider a career in management). Currently I’m preparing for my first major symposium in Nashville, TN, but WORK will continue in full force once my talk is over and my fingernails grow back. The esteemed invited speaker is right before my turn onstage, so my blood pressure has been steadily rising as the session draws near.

So, if I don’t post, consider it a sign of productivity! That, or my newly acquired sleep apnea machine malfunctioned and I died in my sleep. (No, I’m not serious about death, but yes, I recently was diagnosed with severe OSA, despite fitting none of the common causes such as obesity, old age, and being male. This does however explain – and excuse? – my issues with being a zombie who falls asleep during all forms of presentations, lectures, attempted study/reading sessions, group meeting, and once even a final (I had to retake the class). It also makes for amusing stories, such as when YKW woke me up in the middle of class with a question (and a smirk). Oops. I was partially saved from mortification by knowing the answer, and lecture continued as I soon passed out again… Oops.)

All rambling aside, I was recently given a pep talk from a seasoned professor with whom I recently began collaborating. He said I need to relax and bask in the relative ease of grad school, plus have FUN and make mistakes while I’m young. Hey, that’s why I blog here, right?

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl, who would again like to blame the editor for the title]

It’s amazing how long the process takes to obtain [publishable] data, write an intelligible manuscript, and make it through peer review. Many moons ago as a new grad student, I did HR-TEM & EDS for some chaps at another school – a submitted paper had returned with the reviewers demanding better characterization. They were collaborating with YouKnowWho, so as the new and semi-projectless group member my task was to become the microscopy girl… The updated paper was re-submitted about a year ago, and the other PI graciously added me as third author (of seven). Today I was forwarded the following rather cryptic email:

“It’s been a long strange road for this paper but at last it has found a home with [journal]. Thank you all for your hard work and patience. I’ve never had an experience like this before with a manuscript but it’s over now.” -the other PI. (YKW didn’t respond to question about what the issues were, so I am left to assume that it isn’t important.)

So what’s the moral of the story? I have no idea, I’m just happy to finally have something in my resume’s Publications section! My other papers – the legitimate ones as first author – are in draft form on my Desktop to be glanced at guiltily. YKW seems surprisingly relaxed for a professor going up for tenure soon! The only difference in his demeanour is a slightly higher sense of urgency to publish. Notably, for the past week we’ve been hashing a recent manuscript back and forth, using new data from my recent conference presentation. (Speaking of which, I had my first bona fide talk last month! Merciless grilling by YKW on slide formatting and my speaking resulted in a lot of stress, a little bit of sleep, and a nice cash award – compliments of [sponsoring company]. I’m not complaining.)

Over the last few months it finally feels like I’m a real grad student. I’ve written abstracts, made presentations, cursed at PowerPoint, worked on publications, and run around doing labwork/characterization; in between there’s been TAing, being “Lab Mom” to our 8 or so undergrads, running a new student chapter of a national society*, and putting off my own homework/studying/manuscripts to write occasional blog posts. This is normal, right?

*one of YKW’s side projects that was bestowed on me (likely to pad his resume for tenure, but you didn’t hear me say that)

Once in a while I step back and realize that a) I volunteered for this, b) I’m getting a[n insultingly low] stipend, c) I have the freedom to take breaks and procrastinate to my heart’s content. According to one of my professors, the smart people procrastinate because they can get away with it. I’ll take his word for it. Life as a minion isn’t so bad – then I remember that this is just my ridiculous 3-year Master’s, and the road to a PhD is ahead. Oh crap/hooray.

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl, who would like to make it clear that the punning title has nothing to do with her!]

This academic year, I’ve been taking a seminar series on “Preparing Future Faculty” – an offering from the chemistry department that invites in all grads and postdocs who are interested in pursuing a teaching career. The subjects range from the psychology of learning, to making a proper CV, to the rigors of applying for a faculty position. (We need to finish at least two postdocs to be competitive?!)

Through many discussions, it’s been interesting to see the differences between Teaching Assistants (TAs) from other science and engineering departments. Specifically, I noticed that there are very different requirements for TAing. Rumor has it that the physics department is short on TAs; they coax sleep-deprived grad students into dealing with classes full of 300 clueless undergrads. Chemistry and most of the natural sciences require that all grads teach for a year, after which it is relatively voluntary (and everyone stays as far as possible from the pre-med-packed introductory chemistry courses). My own small department offers relatively few classes each term and even fewer TA appointments are available. Those of us with little/no pay vie for the positions in order to have a livable income, and/or we just want to teach. Others are ordered to TA when their PIs’ funds are running low – or said PIs think their students need more experience. I am inclined to question the latter reasoning, but that is discussion for another day.

Until now, I’ve been lucky enough to both secure a TA spot every term and to teach subjects that I like, with professors I like. However, this term I was assigned a course in which I have ZERO background! Due to various administrative, uh, obstinacies, I was unable to switch classes… Since then, I’ve been squeezing through the term by learning how to do homework problems early, maniacally searching the textbook, and Googling when emailed conceptual questions. I mercifully don’t have to teach formal discussion/recitation sections, since they were scheduled at 8am and no one wanted to go; we exchanged them for me having a billion office hours. It’s been an interesting experience. If nothing else, I try to keep my students happy by letting them camp out in my office to do homework, answering emails quickly, and grading by the next day. (Don’t tell YouKnowWho!) TA quality can make or break an average class – I try to tip the balance in favor of ‘make’.

The graduate student body in my department comes from a range of undergrad backgrounds, anywhere from organic chemistry to biomedical engineering to applied physics. (One of the pure-materials students should be TAing the mechanical properties class in my place! That being said, one of my friends in math once TAed a class in which both he AND the professor had no background, and they learned the material then! He says it wasn’t THAT bad.) In any case, we’re a wonderful, diverse hodgepodge of students who secretly may not always know what we’re doing. Don’t tell the undergrads!

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

Last year I spent a fair amount of time at a local branch of Northrop Grumman, having fun times in bunny suits with the summer intern there (aka: tediously, meticulously collecting data on my liquid samples while trying to stay awake in the clean room’s yellow lighting and entertaining each other with chatter or games). Since then, we’ve been working here and there on a paper. Side note: YouKnowWho is going up for tenure soon and has recently been asking for manuscripts.

So here’s the thing – I hail from chemistry with a large dash of materials, the other grad is from physics, and my PI has a background purely in metallurgy/materials science. This has been causing creative differences in paper formatting and data processing, given the different standards in each field. Two examples: no one likes my detailed experimental sections that begin with lists of chemical sources, and the physics guy suggested fitting some my data to an equation that both my PI and I had never heard of. I also have used generic chem-speak in my experimental section that caused my PI to send back multiple annotations of “Use English please!” He apparently neither took o-chem nor had the fun of “washing” a solution. How he missed out on stories of unvented funnels and projectile stoppers! (This reminds me of buying glassware when I first came to the lab – a delightful time of ordering relatively low-priced toys to my heart’s content. No one recognized that funny upside-down pear-shaped thing with a nozzle at the bottom.)

The point is that I am a child of multiple disciplines, and it’s becoming concerning. I have no problem dealing with being chastised for saying that a precursor was “complexed” at high temperature. However, ever since switching to the half-chemistry, half-materials B.S., I have been torn between two overlapping – but often very different – worlds. While grad school in the Materials Science and Engineering department here has been great overall, I still think back to inorganic chemistry. The coming fall presents several crucial choices: Should I push onwards immediately for a PhD or start begging for jobs?* Where shall I apply to pursue a doctorate, and should it be in chemistry or materials science? Arguments for chemistry point out that the field is more fundamental, but now my research background is built strongly in materials science and my academic background contains only laughable amounts of chemistry. Would I survive?

*The answer will be heavily/entirely influenced by results of this year’s fellowships!

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

From an undergrad point of view, grad students primarily existed as TAs and nameless faces roaming through campus doing “research” and being “busy” (and consuming large amounts of alcohol). Even while applying to graduate school and pondering my future, the life and expectations for a graduate were just horror stories channeled by PHDcomics. I read them all, laughed, shared a few on Facebook, and continued on in vague disbelief.

I’m not sure if new students know or are expected to know what’s ahead in the grand journey of grad school. Some come expecting excitement and research, others foresee only classroom activities and a prestigious degree, and a few are there solely to escape the job market. My own expectations were of toil and mild masochism, as told by an older grad, but I really had no clue what was required – other than the department’s obligatory coursework, writing a thesis, etc. Somewhere along the line, it was implied that there would be scientific research galore.

From the other direction, I wonder what is expected of your average grad student in science/engineering. Personally, I’ve experienced an insurmountable flood of research, classes, teaching, friends, seminars, networking, papers, students, presentations, emails, administrative finagling, ever more research, and all else. Not to sound too negative, but it appears that no amount of work can fulfill the wishes of any PI – hence the term “insurmountable”. I’ve settled on temporarily appeasing mine, as his approval may only come upon producing 26-hour days and publishing numerous Nature papers. However, that is simply my own perspective as deep breath one of only two grad students working full-time for a young Assistant Professor who never runs out of random ideas and is on the verge of applying for tenure in a small engineering department at a large research university. This is a very special position, I have discovered over the last year. I am putting the experience under my belt as “personal development”, in addition to a distinctly varied skill set for a mere Master’s minion.

From what I’ve heard otherwise, any graduate experience consists of sweat, sleep deprivation, and suffering in varying degrees. Most complain, but keep working. A select few love everything about it. The specifics, I cannot tell, although numerous books have been published on the subject. (We just don’t have time to read any; this one has adorned my apartment’s bookshelf since I bought it.)

My own days are full and good, at least if YouKnowWho* is not feeling too cantankerous. Still, despite my loyalties, I wonder if my choice of advisor would change had I known anything significant/specific about grad school and professors beforehand. Whose advice should I have sought, and what words of wisdom did I miss? You might say that I was unprepared; the bulk of my undergraduate years were spent in class, studying, and doing homework. (As we all know now, those are nonexistent activities to grads after a year or two.) Academic skills? Passable. Networking? Mediocre. Sanity? Intact – a sure indication of lacking experience. Research? Decent, but unrelated to half of my graduate projects. If all students planned on graduate school, I would suggest mandatory research from undergrads. “Expect this and much, much more”, or something along those lines.

Before this post turns in a treatise (and falls under the “too long; didn’t read” category), I’d like to ask what our readers think about the issue. Were I still the undergrad version of MG, what would you tell me to prepare in advance? What did YOU expect from grad school, and did it turn out to be realistic? How or could you have changed it? As it is, I still have a PhD and new university ahead – I welcome everyone’s wisdom.

*This particular nickname for our “beloved supervisor” has generated quite a few Harry Potter jokes, despite the lack of original intention.

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

Skimming through some of my first posts as a graduate student, I noticed that I’m really whiny! For example, there’s the entry on writing fellowship applications: I gripe about physics, grades, writing personal statements, and generally having to work hard. Ah, youthful innocence – or shall I say, stress without merit. Thing is, I wasn’t even working hard compared to what I’m doing now (mostly in regards to research). Last fall, I spent months just to write a few essays and fill out application forms. This year, I’ve already done half the work in a week, and it is of higher quality. I think it’s part of the adaptation process for grad school. I’ve learned to work harder and faster, instead of wasting time feeling sorry for myself and ruing my ever-increasing workload. Well, I still do that – and more often than I’d like to admit. However, I’m trying to keep negativity to myself and channel my energy into being useful, even when it feels like I have zero energy to spend. Besides, if I push through and get STUFF done, I won’t have anything to whine about (and I won’t have to feel guilty for those hours spent on Hulu).

Grad school is teaching me everything that life asks for, even if I’m still in a little bubble away from the real world. Not only am I gaining academic knowledge and technical skills, but also how to best use them. That’s what school is for, right?

P.S.: My advisor finally started paying me! He also asked me to stay for a PhD, but I’d much rather pursue my doctorate in an exotic country far, far away. Or NorCal. (I hear the population at Berkeley is weird, whacky, and wonderful!)

[Posted on behalf of Materials Girl]

Three years ago, while still an undergrad with zero notion of “research”, I wrote a post that briefly pondered the summer life of a grad student. The following year I discovered that summer = vacation for the younger masses only. Now that the regular school year is over, I’m experiencing my first summer as a graduate researcher. So far, this has been time to catch up on the research that I neglected during the school year. (Apparently, a grad school B– = undergrad C– = failure + retake class = extra motivation to maintain straight As! Plus, TAing is awesome, even if in an often painful manner.)

Grad students resemble “normal” working people, only we work longer hours (and/or organize time poorly/try to make up for the time wasted during regular work hours), have a lower salary, and get away with wearing hole-filled jeans and t-shirts from high school. Or as in my case, we get paid nothing. Last week I offhandedly asked “our beloved supervisor” to start paying me during the summer; my financial aid and TAing contract from the department ended in June. He laughed/chuckled/smirked(?) and mentioned that I should apply for the NSF fellowship* again, then changed the subject. Ummm, time for more student loans? This might be a reason to find a wealthier advisor, if only I didn’t genuinely like my projects and group – a recent, but decisive development… The combination of happiness and grad school seems a rare commodity. I’m hanging onto my 7am–10pm motivation for dear life.

*They only gave me an honorable mention this year — and thus no money. /grumbling

So, the summers are for good work – and a couple of good breaks. And, apparently, we never work enough. The internet, among other things, provides countless horror stories of advisors deporting international students who fail to meet some absurdly high standards, brusquely demanding work 20/7** (a useless gesture, as this likely results in lower quality results and inefficient time management), etc. I have little problem with working unspeakably hard, assuming that the projects are worthwhile. However, I want to be the one motivating myself and scheduling my own time, instead of having an irate PI taking attendance and cracking the whip. As it is, one reason I’ve learned to be happy in grad school is that my PI doesn’t micromanage us from day-to-day – he generally just picks on our data and masterminds numerous ideas to try [which may or may not be of value, but that’s a different issue!]. Besides, with all the random assignments, it is not even necessary for him to demand nights and weekends – if I am to present anything decent at our weekly group meetings! Motivation by necessity is much more enjoyable than by direct force.

**20 hours a day, 7 days a week. They do, at least, acknowledge that we are primarily human and need SOME sleep. During my first or second month in the group, my advisor mentioned that getting over 4 hours a night means I’m not working hard enough. He was grinning, and to this day I haven’t figured out if that was a joke or a passive-aggressive communication regarding my work ethic.

At the end of the day, I’m enjoying my serfdom/hermithood, and I even take occasional nights off to… umm… I actually don’t know what to do with “spare time”… Still, though, can I get a stipend already?

[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?

[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.