In case "PR" has some scientific meaning that's either not occurring to me or is relevant only in fields with which I'm not well-acquainted, I'm talking about Public Relations, here. I've been thinking about this a lot, lately--the role of the PI in "advertising" his or her trainee, especially when the trainee is getting close to the next phase, be it grad student to post-doc, or post-doc to junior faculty. I mean, it's in everyone's best interest for us to move onward and upward, right? So why aren't they all selling the shit out of us? Or if you're a PI, why aren't you selling the shit out of your trainees? Or are you?
I'm not talking about writing letters of recommendation, here; everyone does that. What I mean is, what extra things is your PI doing to show the world how great you are? Or is this not happening? And how do you feel about that? This is an essay question, to be answered in the comments by both trainees and PIs alike.
A couple of recent experiences have made me hyper-aware of this phenomenon. First, I was at a small symposium in the city a couple of weeks ago. Four really great talks, including one by my PI and one by a very famous collaborator dude (VFCD--different from the new Famous Dude I may work with soon). My PI didn't present my work, but VFCD did. And right before VFCD presented my work, he said, "this is the work of Dr Becca, who is over there (he points, I wave bashfully) and what she did that was really monumental was..." I mean, he actually said "monumental," which I thought was really nice of him. I don't even know if I'd consider my work monumental, but it made me feel really good that he'd promote me like that. Moreover, he deferred to me to answer any relevant questions after the talk, and not because he couldn't have answered them himself--VFCD is a bona fide brilliant person who has the mind-blowing ability to remember every tiny bit of data you've ever mentioned to him in the hallway or whatever. So that was all really great. I felt like I was being treated like an adult, having adult scientist conversations with other adult scientists, and I was so grateful to VFCD for that.
More recently, I was at a meeting in the Midwestern US (OMG $2.75 for Maker's Mark??!!??!). During one of the talks, the speaker said, "this is the work of my post-doc ____, who is here at this meeting," and she showed a picture of this post-doc, which she continued to show a couple more times as she went through the data. I saw this and thought, That is so smart and great! Now people don't have to remember her name--they can just remember her face! And then they'll recognize her at future meetings, rather than having to randomly check her name tag and try and remember where they heard the name. I am so doing this when I am a PI. Every time.
These truly small-in-effort gestures are, I think, really important for trainees. While in the long run, we of course will (and should) bear the primary burden for promoting ourselves, you never know what a two-second mention, a photo, or a casual "monumental" here or there can really do for a person.
The Plight of the Post-Doc
Showing posts with label selling myself. Show all posts
Showing posts with label selling myself. Show all posts
6.10.2010
6.02.2010
Come on, get happy!
Arg, again I am a day late for the Scientiae Carnival, but I'm doing a post anyhow, dammit! This month's theme is celebration, and it's a great way to start the summer. I feel like we so often focus on the trials and tribulations of being scientists (and with good reason, as the trials and tribulations of scientists are many) that we often forget (or worse, are afraid/ashamed) to allow ourselves a little joy when things go well. So, what do I have to be happy about?
When we last checked in with each other, I was reeling from the realization that I'd soon have to leave my lab and struggling against a bizarre but deep-rooted discomfort with success. Since then, I've been working hard to get a plan together for September, and it's actually all been kind of......awesome.
The obvious choice for a new lab is a Famous Dude at a different NYC institution with whom I've recently done a little collaboration. I met him in his office a couple of weeks ago and said, "I'd really like to continue the work I did with you last year, studying the effects of A on measure B, with a general focus on brain region C." He said, "Well, A might be OK, but we don't really do measure B anymore, and I'm not all that interested in brain region C." At that, both my jaw and heart dropped what felt like a mile. But before the waterworks could begin, he went on: "Look, the lab is pretty full, but I'd like to help you out. Why don't you try to come up with some ideas of things you'd like to do that fit within the current focus of the lab, and we can talk again in a week or two?"
Believe it or not, at first I was devastated. The thought of having to leave my pet project--my pet brain region, even--behind made me super sad. I mean, what if someone else did the experiments while I was off being unfaithful, messing around with brain region D? MY experiments? It was then that I realized how head-over-heels in love I'd been with my own ideas, and how monumentally stupid that was (more on this in a future post, probably). I got a grip and said to myself, "Self, we have a chance to work with Famous Dude, who pretty much sneezes Glamour Mag pubs. Let's think of some sexy new experiments and make it happen!"
So I had some thoughts and I wrote them up in a little 1-page specific aim-type proposal, which I nervously sent off to Famous Dude one Sunday evening. He got back to me within the hour with a response that included the expression "home run." Not to brag or anything!
Now of course, nothing is set in stone (there are, as always, money issues) and thus part of me thinks we shouldn't dare start celebrating just yet. But another part of me says, you know what? Go ahead and bask in the glow of that tiny bit of validation--heaven knows we don't get that too often.
So as things progress on this front, I'm allowing myself to feel cautiously optimistic.
In the meantime, I'm headed to two meetings this month to present some cool new data. I finished my poster last night, and as is customary in the Dr Becca household, I made myself a cocktail in celebration. It's called a Bijou, and it may be the most delicious potable on earth. Equal parts gin, sweet vermouth, and green Chartreuse, stirred with ice until very cold and then strained into a cocktail glass, it is elegant, balanced, and the perfect accompaniment to just about anything. Garnish with a homemade brandied cherry if you like (I like).
When we last checked in with each other, I was reeling from the realization that I'd soon have to leave my lab and struggling against a bizarre but deep-rooted discomfort with success. Since then, I've been working hard to get a plan together for September, and it's actually all been kind of......awesome.
The obvious choice for a new lab is a Famous Dude at a different NYC institution with whom I've recently done a little collaboration. I met him in his office a couple of weeks ago and said, "I'd really like to continue the work I did with you last year, studying the effects of A on measure B, with a general focus on brain region C." He said, "Well, A might be OK, but we don't really do measure B anymore, and I'm not all that interested in brain region C." At that, both my jaw and heart dropped what felt like a mile. But before the waterworks could begin, he went on: "Look, the lab is pretty full, but I'd like to help you out. Why don't you try to come up with some ideas of things you'd like to do that fit within the current focus of the lab, and we can talk again in a week or two?"
Believe it or not, at first I was devastated. The thought of having to leave my pet project--my pet brain region, even--behind made me super sad. I mean, what if someone else did the experiments while I was off being unfaithful, messing around with brain region D? MY experiments? It was then that I realized how head-over-heels in love I'd been with my own ideas, and how monumentally stupid that was (more on this in a future post, probably). I got a grip and said to myself, "Self, we have a chance to work with Famous Dude, who pretty much sneezes Glamour Mag pubs. Let's think of some sexy new experiments and make it happen!"
So I had some thoughts and I wrote them up in a little 1-page specific aim-type proposal, which I nervously sent off to Famous Dude one Sunday evening. He got back to me within the hour with a response that included the expression "home run." Not to brag or anything!
Now of course, nothing is set in stone (there are, as always, money issues) and thus part of me thinks we shouldn't dare start celebrating just yet. But another part of me says, you know what? Go ahead and bask in the glow of that tiny bit of validation--heaven knows we don't get that too often.
So as things progress on this front, I'm allowing myself to feel cautiously optimistic.
In the meantime, I'm headed to two meetings this month to present some cool new data. I finished my poster last night, and as is customary in the Dr Becca household, I made myself a cocktail in celebration. It's called a Bijou, and it may be the most delicious potable on earth. Equal parts gin, sweet vermouth, and green Chartreuse, stirred with ice until very cold and then strained into a cocktail glass, it is elegant, balanced, and the perfect accompaniment to just about anything. Garnish with a homemade brandied cherry if you like (I like).
Cheers!
PS: Lots of other current events of note, but I think trying to squeeze it all into a single post may be ill-advised. Stay tuned...
4.28.2010
Notes from Experimental Biology
I think it's safe to say that I've probably eaten more Baja Fresh in a 30-hr period than any normal-sized person ever should. But it was that or Sbarro, so... .
Anyway, carnitas overdose aside, I had a very nice trip to Anaheim. When I wasn't compulsively checking the PC-compatibility of my Mac-designed presentation or arguing with my circadian clock about what time it was, I bounced around the exhibits and talks, spending a solid amount of time in the Career Resources Center. And I gotta say, the EB CRC kicked the SfN CRC's ass so much it wasn't even funny! There were at least 3 or 4 workshops going on at any given time between 8 am and 4 pm, plus a job board, plus a private area for interviews, plus people who would critique your CV. In addition to the expected topics like "how to write a great cover letter," "the NIH peer review process," and "how to give a dynamic talk" (hot damn was that one packed! You'd think it had never occurred to anyone to label their x- and y-axes before, the way they were all scribbling furiously), there were some unconventional (and, it should be noted, poorly attended) workshops as well.
I went to the "social media and career development" workshop because I am kind of a crazy social media junky, and was curious to hear how all of my internet friends could help me get a job. Sadly, I was not impressed. I mean, here was this guy, trying to explain Twitter to people, and he hadn't thought to put a screen shot of a Twitter feed in his presentation? People (especially in the scientific community, it seems) are absolutely clueless about what Twitter is for besides reading about what Ashton Kutcher ate for lunch, and hearing nothing but "well you see, you follow people and see their tweets, and people who follow you see your tweets" is not all that helpful.
Oh, how did my talk go? I think it went pretty well. I was a little nervous, and kept saying "channels" when I meant "receptors," but I think in general I was clear and told a good story. I'll admit, though, it was not the easiest thing in the world to present my former advisor's data. It's not that I didn't know it well enough or anything, it's just that on a certain level I couldn't own the work the way I can my own. There was a mediated discussion after all four parts of the symposium were finished, and I pretty much completely BS'd my way through my answer to what was, frankly, a not-all-that-answerable question (DrugMonkey, I truly hope you'd left by that point!)
The best part of the whole meeting, though, was a long chat I had after my talk with one of my contemporaries, a post-doc who left my lab for a second post-doc just before I arrived, and who's just accepted a TT job offer. We talked lots of science, and then some jobby stuff, about which he had some interesting things to say. First, he's currently in one of the departments that had an opening I applied to, and he said that they got 1200 applications for that position, and that the people who got interviews had 7-8 years of post-doc experience. So I'm thrilled to hear that the 7-8 year post-doc is the new 4-5 year post-doc--just like 35 is the new 25, yes? Along those lines, he also said something very wise. He said "Look, if you get a job tomorrow, it's not going to be as good as the job you'd get in a year or two." This is totally true, and made me feel significantly better about my situation. Do I want the job that awesome-ish me could get now, or the job that super-awesome me could get after a couple more fancy papers? Door number 2, please!
Finally, when I asked him how he thought I fielded that discussion question, he said "I think it was an appropriately verbose and evasive answer, given the question." Hahahaha!! I am going to be such a good scientist!!
Anyway, carnitas overdose aside, I had a very nice trip to Anaheim. When I wasn't compulsively checking the PC-compatibility of my Mac-designed presentation or arguing with my circadian clock about what time it was, I bounced around the exhibits and talks, spending a solid amount of time in the Career Resources Center. And I gotta say, the EB CRC kicked the SfN CRC's ass so much it wasn't even funny! There were at least 3 or 4 workshops going on at any given time between 8 am and 4 pm, plus a job board, plus a private area for interviews, plus people who would critique your CV. In addition to the expected topics like "how to write a great cover letter," "the NIH peer review process," and "how to give a dynamic talk" (hot damn was that one packed! You'd think it had never occurred to anyone to label their x- and y-axes before, the way they were all scribbling furiously), there were some unconventional (and, it should be noted, poorly attended) workshops as well.
I went to the "social media and career development" workshop because I am kind of a crazy social media junky, and was curious to hear how all of my internet friends could help me get a job. Sadly, I was not impressed. I mean, here was this guy, trying to explain Twitter to people, and he hadn't thought to put a screen shot of a Twitter feed in his presentation? People (especially in the scientific community, it seems) are absolutely clueless about what Twitter is for besides reading about what Ashton Kutcher ate for lunch, and hearing nothing but "well you see, you follow people and see their tweets, and people who follow you see your tweets" is not all that helpful.
Oh, how did my talk go? I think it went pretty well. I was a little nervous, and kept saying "channels" when I meant "receptors," but I think in general I was clear and told a good story. I'll admit, though, it was not the easiest thing in the world to present my former advisor's data. It's not that I didn't know it well enough or anything, it's just that on a certain level I couldn't own the work the way I can my own. There was a mediated discussion after all four parts of the symposium were finished, and I pretty much completely BS'd my way through my answer to what was, frankly, a not-all-that-answerable question (DrugMonkey, I truly hope you'd left by that point!)
The best part of the whole meeting, though, was a long chat I had after my talk with one of my contemporaries, a post-doc who left my lab for a second post-doc just before I arrived, and who's just accepted a TT job offer. We talked lots of science, and then some jobby stuff, about which he had some interesting things to say. First, he's currently in one of the departments that had an opening I applied to, and he said that they got 1200 applications for that position, and that the people who got interviews had 7-8 years of post-doc experience. So I'm thrilled to hear that the 7-8 year post-doc is the new 4-5 year post-doc--just like 35 is the new 25, yes? Along those lines, he also said something very wise. He said "Look, if you get a job tomorrow, it's not going to be as good as the job you'd get in a year or two." This is totally true, and made me feel significantly better about my situation. Do I want the job that awesome-ish me could get now, or the job that super-awesome me could get after a couple more fancy papers? Door number 2, please!
Finally, when I asked him how he thought I fielded that discussion question, he said "I think it was an appropriately verbose and evasive answer, given the question." Hahahaha!! I am going to be such a good scientist!!
3.28.2010
When life becomes an After-School Special
You know the scene.
It's The Big Game. Our protagonist sits on the sidelines in street clothes, a deflated look on her face. Though she trained all season with the team--countless times up and down the bleacher stairs, suicide drills until her thighs cried out in agony, and damn but all those practice penalty kicks/free throws/etc--she didn't make the cut for the championship this year. Late in the final quarter or half or whatever, the game's tied. Suddenly, the home team's star player is down! Her ankle is twisted; there's no way she can keep playing. The coach turns to our protagonist. "Hey!" he says, tossing her a spare jersey. "You're in. Go get changed." A smile, followed by a look of intense determination appears on her face, and she dashes for the locker room.
Yesterday I got an email from my thesis advisor that read, "I'm meant to give a talk on Your Area of Research, Broadly Defined at upcoming Giant Meeting, but I've hurt my leg and can't travel. Would you like to give it for me?" (I am not even kidding, she really hurt her leg. It is too much!!!) Naturally I replied, "YES! YES! YES! Oh, and sorry about your leg!" She promised to send me her PowerPoint, to which I could add some of my recent relevant data.
I am really excited about this, folks. I feel like it's my Big Moment. I checked out the meeting program, and I'll be following one of the country's absolute top people re: My Area of Research, Broadly Defined. It's scary, but also an amazing chance for me to really strut my stuff and get my name out there.
And so, we all know what happens next, right? Seconds are left on the clock. Without warning, our protagonist finds the ball in her hands/at her feet/against her field hockey stick, with no one between her and the basket/goal. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and just as the buzzer/whistle goes.....
SCORE!!!!!!!!
It's The Big Game. Our protagonist sits on the sidelines in street clothes, a deflated look on her face. Though she trained all season with the team--countless times up and down the bleacher stairs, suicide drills until her thighs cried out in agony, and damn but all those practice penalty kicks/free throws/etc--she didn't make the cut for the championship this year. Late in the final quarter or half or whatever, the game's tied. Suddenly, the home team's star player is down! Her ankle is twisted; there's no way she can keep playing. The coach turns to our protagonist. "Hey!" he says, tossing her a spare jersey. "You're in. Go get changed." A smile, followed by a look of intense determination appears on her face, and she dashes for the locker room.
Yesterday I got an email from my thesis advisor that read, "I'm meant to give a talk on Your Area of Research, Broadly Defined at upcoming Giant Meeting, but I've hurt my leg and can't travel. Would you like to give it for me?" (I am not even kidding, she really hurt her leg. It is too much!!!) Naturally I replied, "YES! YES! YES! Oh, and sorry about your leg!" She promised to send me her PowerPoint, to which I could add some of my recent relevant data.
I am really excited about this, folks. I feel like it's my Big Moment. I checked out the meeting program, and I'll be following one of the country's absolute top people re: My Area of Research, Broadly Defined. It's scary, but also an amazing chance for me to really strut my stuff and get my name out there.
And so, we all know what happens next, right? Seconds are left on the clock. Without warning, our protagonist finds the ball in her hands/at her feet/against her field hockey stick, with no one between her and the basket/goal. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and just as the buzzer/whistle goes.....
SCORE!!!!!!!!
10.27.2009
Just in time for Halloween...
A discussion on dressing up as The Scientist They Want.
I recently went back to my grad school to attend the public thesis defense of one of my good friends. During the pre-talk mingling I chatted with a PI I'd known while I was a student, and when I mentioned that I was job hunting, he said, "Oh, do you know about the job opening at the Fancy Liberal Arts College up the road? That could be great for you." I had not heard about the FLAC job, and was very interested, as it really is one of the top FLACs in the country. But then he said, "be sure when you apply that you make yourself look like a cell biologist, because that's what they want."
Out of respect I simply smiled and said, "Oh, OK!" but what I really wanted to say was, "Dude. I know you know that I am no cell biologist. Sure, I'm peripherally interested in receptor signaling, but mitochondria and I do not hang. I have no real plans to conduct research that would qualify as cell biology. So why would I want to give people the impression that I do?"
A recent commenter said,
The most important thing to do with your cover letter is to show that you're a good "fit". A cover letter that doesn't show you're a good fit says one of three things about you:
(1) you aren't a good fit
(2) you aren't interested enough in the department to figure out what they want or you don't really know what they're about
(3) you aren't skilled enough to even fake 1 & 2
My big question to this commenter (and to all of my readers) is, why would I want to fake it? Is it too idealistic to imagine that they'd want me for me, and not for my ability to craft a cover letter that feeds them what they want to hear? I mean, I understand the idea that if they seem to emphasize teaching, then I should emphasize teaching in my cover letter, and likewise if they emphasize research. I've been doing that. But I can't lie about the kind of research I'm capable of or intend to do...can I?
At the SfN meeting I ran into a friend who's been in a tenure-track faculty position for maybe 7 or 8 years. He had lots of great advice, but one thing he said was particularly interesting--the best possible situation, he said, is not when you can convince them that you're The Scientist They Want, but when you can convince them you're The Scientist They Didn't Know They Wanted. We didn't get a chance to hash out how you actually make this happen, but I'm thinking this may involve perhaps a little...um..creativity in your cover letter to get your foot in the door for an interview/job talk, where things will presumably play out like this:
Dr Becca: And that's the end of my job talk on non-cell biology topics.
Search Committee: Um, but we thought you said you did cell biology?
Dr Becca: Oh, hmm...I suppose I did. I don't, actually, but isn't this much, much better???
Search Committee: Now that we think about it, it is!! It totally is. Would you like to join our department?
Dr Becca: Yes, thanks very much.
I recently went back to my grad school to attend the public thesis defense of one of my good friends. During the pre-talk mingling I chatted with a PI I'd known while I was a student, and when I mentioned that I was job hunting, he said, "Oh, do you know about the job opening at the Fancy Liberal Arts College up the road? That could be great for you." I had not heard about the FLAC job, and was very interested, as it really is one of the top FLACs in the country. But then he said, "be sure when you apply that you make yourself look like a cell biologist, because that's what they want."
Out of respect I simply smiled and said, "Oh, OK!" but what I really wanted to say was, "Dude. I know you know that I am no cell biologist. Sure, I'm peripherally interested in receptor signaling, but mitochondria and I do not hang. I have no real plans to conduct research that would qualify as cell biology. So why would I want to give people the impression that I do?"
A recent commenter said,
The most important thing to do with your cover letter is to show that you're a good "fit". A cover letter that doesn't show you're a good fit says one of three things about you:
(1) you aren't a good fit
(2) you aren't interested enough in the department to figure out what they want or you don't really know what they're about
(3) you aren't skilled enough to even fake 1 & 2
My big question to this commenter (and to all of my readers) is, why would I want to fake it? Is it too idealistic to imagine that they'd want me for me, and not for my ability to craft a cover letter that feeds them what they want to hear? I mean, I understand the idea that if they seem to emphasize teaching, then I should emphasize teaching in my cover letter, and likewise if they emphasize research. I've been doing that. But I can't lie about the kind of research I'm capable of or intend to do...can I?
At the SfN meeting I ran into a friend who's been in a tenure-track faculty position for maybe 7 or 8 years. He had lots of great advice, but one thing he said was particularly interesting--the best possible situation, he said, is not when you can convince them that you're The Scientist They Want, but when you can convince them you're The Scientist They Didn't Know They Wanted. We didn't get a chance to hash out how you actually make this happen, but I'm thinking this may involve perhaps a little...um..creativity in your cover letter to get your foot in the door for an interview/job talk, where things will presumably play out like this:
Dr Becca: And that's the end of my job talk on non-cell biology topics.
Search Committee: Um, but we thought you said you did cell biology?
Dr Becca: Oh, hmm...I suppose I did. I don't, actually, but isn't this much, much better???
Search Committee: Now that we think about it, it is!! It totally is. Would you like to join our department?
Dr Becca: Yes, thanks very much.
10.14.2009
A Shmoozy Interlude
Not actually an interlude, I just like how it rhymes with my last post. Back to our regularly scheduled programming! Job hunting, and more specifically, the Art of Shmoozing.
As many of you are undoubtedly aware, the Society for Neuroscience Annual Meeting is just a few days away, and with 25,000 attendees, it's a great opportunity for networking. Scientists have a reputation for being awkward, socially-inept misanthropes who prefer the company of a microscope or cell culture to that of another person, but the reality is that most of us are very friendly and cool and fun to be around. Are we a little nerdier than most? Sure. Are Lord of the Rings references thrown around at a higher frequency than in other groups? Probably. But the progress of our careers, science, and thus society as a whole can only be improved by us making friends, so get ready to CHAT IT UP!
A couple of things (literally, a couple) I've learned in my 10 years of attending meetings:
1. Graduate students (and post-docs), don't be afraid to talk to fancy PIs--you never know when you're going to find a real advocate. One year at SfN a pretty prominent dude came to my poster and fell in love with my research. We got along famously, and it led to me being invited to write a review, and later to speak at a conference where I was the only non-faculty-level person on the schedule. He also introduced me to one of my future (now past) post-doc collaborators, a very famous dude who's recommended me as a source to people writing layperson science books. Connections!
2. Speaking of PIs, never assume somebody isn't one. I remember at my very first poster presentation speaking with a young woman who had very similar interests. I asked her, "whose lab are you in?" after which there was an AWFUL pause, followed by an indignant "MINE." Of course, I did my best to be all, "Oh, it's just that you look so young!!!!" but I'm not sure how much good that did. This woman is pretty much my arch rival now. In science, not in Life, but still.
For further reference, DrDrA over at Blue Lab Coats has a good list of meeting etiquette tips that I highly recommend you check out.
I'm wondering how/whether I should track down people from the schools I've applied to. I obviously have no idea who's on the search committees, and I'd be surprised if many of them will have looked at my application before the meeting. I feel like it can't hurt to introduce myself to anyone I can find from the department, though, and help them put a face to the name when they do get around to it (especially when the face is as cute as mine!). I realize that on paper, no one gives a flying fuck about what a charming and fun person I am, but I can't help but think that in person, people do. Meaning that if I meet people at SfN and they like me, and that gives them even the tiniest of warm happy feelings when they sit down with my CV...well, it's got to be a good thing.
As many of you are undoubtedly aware, the Society for Neuroscience Annual Meeting is just a few days away, and with 25,000 attendees, it's a great opportunity for networking. Scientists have a reputation for being awkward, socially-inept misanthropes who prefer the company of a microscope or cell culture to that of another person, but the reality is that most of us are very friendly and cool and fun to be around. Are we a little nerdier than most? Sure. Are Lord of the Rings references thrown around at a higher frequency than in other groups? Probably. But the progress of our careers, science, and thus society as a whole can only be improved by us making friends, so get ready to CHAT IT UP!
A couple of things (literally, a couple) I've learned in my 10 years of attending meetings:
1. Graduate students (and post-docs), don't be afraid to talk to fancy PIs--you never know when you're going to find a real advocate. One year at SfN a pretty prominent dude came to my poster and fell in love with my research. We got along famously, and it led to me being invited to write a review, and later to speak at a conference where I was the only non-faculty-level person on the schedule. He also introduced me to one of my future (now past) post-doc collaborators, a very famous dude who's recommended me as a source to people writing layperson science books. Connections!
2. Speaking of PIs, never assume somebody isn't one. I remember at my very first poster presentation speaking with a young woman who had very similar interests. I asked her, "whose lab are you in?" after which there was an AWFUL pause, followed by an indignant "MINE." Of course, I did my best to be all, "Oh, it's just that you look so young!!!!" but I'm not sure how much good that did. This woman is pretty much my arch rival now. In science, not in Life, but still.
For further reference, DrDrA over at Blue Lab Coats has a good list of meeting etiquette tips that I highly recommend you check out.
I'm wondering how/whether I should track down people from the schools I've applied to. I obviously have no idea who's on the search committees, and I'd be surprised if many of them will have looked at my application before the meeting. I feel like it can't hurt to introduce myself to anyone I can find from the department, though, and help them put a face to the name when they do get around to it (especially when the face is as cute as mine!). I realize that on paper, no one gives a flying fuck about what a charming and fun person I am, but I can't help but think that in person, people do. Meaning that if I meet people at SfN and they like me, and that gives them even the tiniest of warm happy feelings when they sit down with my CV...well, it's got to be a good thing.
10.08.2009
Nice package!
Since this blog began just a few tiny weeks ago, I've been getting some really excellent advice from some really excellent scientists (and non-scientists, too!). They've given me a lot to think about as I prepare my applications, and what it all seems to come down to is...my package. What will search committees see when they look at me on paper? More importantly, what do they want to see?
In response to a recent post, Comrade PhysioProf wrote:
It is more important to explain how awesome your post-doctoral work has been, and how you are uniquely positioned to leverage off of your post-doctoral training to make an impact on your field as independent investigator. This is subtly--but importantly--different than explaining how awesome you are personally, about which no one gives a flying fuck.
Now, as much as I'd like my charming, self-deprecating wit and cocktail-making skills to factor into the hiring process, CPP is completely right. I recently submitted an application for a K99-R00 award (a special grant to help post-docs transition to junior faculty), and had to write about 6 different statements explaining how my previous and current work had prepared me for the work I was going to do in the future. What seems to be most highly valued is having a real focus throughout your career, as opposed to flitting about learning a million methods in different fields.
As I was writing all of these many, many statements and realizing that this is what is desirable in a New Investigator candidate, a sneaky grin crept onto my face because I was also realizing that I have GOT IT. My thesis work and my post-doc work are related in theme but completely different in technique, and no one else in my labs has seemed all that keen on continuing my projects after I leave, so I can probably take it all with me. And I want to! I'm genuinely excited about and proud of the work I've done so far, and am looking forward to building on what I've learned and taking it in new directions.
So that's all sunshine and rainbows, but like my commenters point out, most search committees will probably check out my CV first (and possibly only). In that case, should they not find my Classy Institutions, my several Awards and Honors, and my humble-but-not-laughable publishing record up to snuff, they'll sadly miss out on the captivating and compelling story of how I've been preparing my whole life (er...ten years) for This Job. That would be disappointing, but I'm optimistic that it won't come to that. Why, you ask? Well...I think I have a nice package.
In response to a recent post, Comrade PhysioProf wrote:
It is more important to explain how awesome your post-doctoral work has been, and how you are uniquely positioned to leverage off of your post-doctoral training to make an impact on your field as independent investigator. This is subtly--but importantly--different than explaining how awesome you are personally, about which no one gives a flying fuck.
Now, as much as I'd like my charming, self-deprecating wit and cocktail-making skills to factor into the hiring process, CPP is completely right. I recently submitted an application for a K99-R00 award (a special grant to help post-docs transition to junior faculty), and had to write about 6 different statements explaining how my previous and current work had prepared me for the work I was going to do in the future. What seems to be most highly valued is having a real focus throughout your career, as opposed to flitting about learning a million methods in different fields.
As I was writing all of these many, many statements and realizing that this is what is desirable in a New Investigator candidate, a sneaky grin crept onto my face because I was also realizing that I have GOT IT. My thesis work and my post-doc work are related in theme but completely different in technique, and no one else in my labs has seemed all that keen on continuing my projects after I leave, so I can probably take it all with me. And I want to! I'm genuinely excited about and proud of the work I've done so far, and am looking forward to building on what I've learned and taking it in new directions.
So that's all sunshine and rainbows, but like my commenters point out, most search committees will probably check out my CV first (and possibly only). In that case, should they not find my Classy Institutions, my several Awards and Honors, and my humble-but-not-laughable publishing record up to snuff, they'll sadly miss out on the captivating and compelling story of how I've been preparing my whole life (er...ten years) for This Job. That would be disappointing, but I'm optimistic that it won't come to that. Why, you ask? Well...I think I have a nice package.
10.04.2009
Allow me to describe my awesomeness in great detail
Ah, the art of the Letter of Application.
Most of us could probably recount without too much trouble our research and teaching experience, and even lay down with some coherence a five-to-ten year plan for all the clever and elegant studies we intend to undertake. And our CV, well, really it speaks for itself. But we don't live in a simple meritocracy, do we? The facts alone are not enough--we need to Sell Ourselves, and for some reason this is really, really hard.
You already know how things went last year when I applied for a job at a Fancy Midwestern College, but what I didn't tell you is that the year before that, I applied for a job at a Fancy New England College. FNEC asked for a letter outlining my research experience and interests, and my letter looked like this:
Letter of Application for Dr Becca, Phd
Research Experience: My graduate thesis focused on blahblahblah. My current post-doctoral work examines blahblahblah (3 paragraphs)
Research Interests: I aim to manage my own laboratory where I will continue to address the issues of blahblahblah (2 paragraphs)
Of course, I heard nothing from FNEC, so when I was preparing the following year to apply to FMC I first sent the letter to my thesis advisor for a quick critique. She said, "I like the letter very much EXCEPT [her caps lock] you should say right in the beginning that you are an excellent and experienced teacher able to teach a range of courses in neuro and phys psych, and that your research would fit well at FMC, both in topic and in technique." Wait, I'm supposed to just come right out and say that I'm an excellent teacher and scientist? Shouldn't they just be able to tell how great I am from my CV and stuff? Won't they think I'm...well, an arrogant asshole??
But why are we so afraid of looking like assholes, when it should be obvious that anyone applying for any job anywhere would do best to show their prospective employer just how awesome they are? It makes me wonder if the nature of our profession fosters an unhealthy modesty in us. After all, most of our days are peppered with humbling experiences, be they terrible priority scores on grant applications or repeated rejections from journals (I have heard this happens to scientists sometimes). We're basically always being told how much we suck, not to mention that we're all probably harboring deep-seated insecurities from our childhoods when we had no friends and our moms forced us to go to the school dance. Just, you know, hypothetically speaking.
My thesis advisor is very wise. I took her advice and jumped right into that letter to FMC with a big old "I rock" (paraphrasing), and it totally worked because I got a phone interview, which I promptly bombed. But baby steps, you know?
****
As an aside, I'd like a bit of advice from those of you who are TT faculty: How much detail do I need to go into in my letter with respect to my research plans? Do they want to hear actual experiments, or just general issues I'm interested in, and techniques I plan on employing?
Most of us could probably recount without too much trouble our research and teaching experience, and even lay down with some coherence a five-to-ten year plan for all the clever and elegant studies we intend to undertake. And our CV, well, really it speaks for itself. But we don't live in a simple meritocracy, do we? The facts alone are not enough--we need to Sell Ourselves, and for some reason this is really, really hard.
You already know how things went last year when I applied for a job at a Fancy Midwestern College, but what I didn't tell you is that the year before that, I applied for a job at a Fancy New England College. FNEC asked for a letter outlining my research experience and interests, and my letter looked like this:
Letter of Application for Dr Becca, Phd
Research Experience: My graduate thesis focused on blahblahblah. My current post-doctoral work examines blahblahblah (3 paragraphs)
Research Interests: I aim to manage my own laboratory where I will continue to address the issues of blahblahblah (2 paragraphs)
Of course, I heard nothing from FNEC, so when I was preparing the following year to apply to FMC I first sent the letter to my thesis advisor for a quick critique. She said, "I like the letter very much EXCEPT [her caps lock] you should say right in the beginning that you are an excellent and experienced teacher able to teach a range of courses in neuro and phys psych, and that your research would fit well at FMC, both in topic and in technique." Wait, I'm supposed to just come right out and say that I'm an excellent teacher and scientist? Shouldn't they just be able to tell how great I am from my CV and stuff? Won't they think I'm...well, an arrogant asshole??
But why are we so afraid of looking like assholes, when it should be obvious that anyone applying for any job anywhere would do best to show their prospective employer just how awesome they are? It makes me wonder if the nature of our profession fosters an unhealthy modesty in us. After all, most of our days are peppered with humbling experiences, be they terrible priority scores on grant applications or repeated rejections from journals (I have heard this happens to scientists sometimes). We're basically always being told how much we suck, not to mention that we're all probably harboring deep-seated insecurities from our childhoods when we had no friends and our moms forced us to go to the school dance. Just, you know, hypothetically speaking.
My thesis advisor is very wise. I took her advice and jumped right into that letter to FMC with a big old "I rock" (paraphrasing), and it totally worked because I got a phone interview, which I promptly bombed. But baby steps, you know?
****
As an aside, I'd like a bit of advice from those of you who are TT faculty: How much detail do I need to go into in my letter with respect to my research plans? Do they want to hear actual experiments, or just general issues I'm interested in, and techniques I plan on employing?
10.01.2009
I admit it, I have been drunk before
I like to think of myself as a classy lady. I say "please" and "thank you", I never show up to a party empty handed, and despite a penchant for shopping at Forever 21 (shut up. Everything people like about my outfits is from there), I usually dress age-appropriately. But what of the internet me?
My mom (I know you are reading this, hi Mom!) recently reminded me that prospective employers would likely seek out absolutely everything they could about me via the magic of the internet. Is this something that I should be worried about? I'm not really sure. There is, of course, my facebook page, which is set to the highest privacy settings, but like my mom so wisely pointed out, you never know when one of your facebook friends will betray you and your privacy settings. If that happens, what would they see? First, there's a video of me excelling at Wii Fit Hula Hoop. I reached the Calorie Torcher level (have since graduated to Calorie Incinerator, FYI), and I'm fully dressed, so it's all fine, right?
Then there is the matter of the many pictures of me with a drink in my hand, probably the main concern for my mom. Is it bad for your future employers to know you have a social life, or that you enjoy a cocktail now and then? The reality is that there are two things that are highly likely to occur at parties, and those two things are drinking and picture taking. It could even be argued that the more the former occurs, the more the latter does, too, and thus we've all got a million facebook pictures of us drinking. We do, right? Or is it just me? Say it's not just me.
If you google me, everything but maybe 2 links is science-related, which I feel is a very good rate. I was once quoted (using my real name) by the New York Times in a piece about a non-sciency website with which I've been fairly active, and while the article doesn't directly link to my posts on that site, most people could probably figure it out. My mom's primary worry with that one is my occasional use of profanity (and apparent fondness for fancy cocktails), but as far as I can tell, there are plenty of successful scientists with potty mouths out there.
So the big question is, how much housecleaning do I need to do, here? Do I need to make my internet presence spic-and-span? Should my social life even be considered in evaluations of my professional potential? I'd like to think that it shouldn't be--and if it is, I'd like to remind certain tenured professors about certain stories you've told me regarding you and certain other tenured professors on a certain night in Prague....
My mom (I know you are reading this, hi Mom!) recently reminded me that prospective employers would likely seek out absolutely everything they could about me via the magic of the internet. Is this something that I should be worried about? I'm not really sure. There is, of course, my facebook page, which is set to the highest privacy settings, but like my mom so wisely pointed out, you never know when one of your facebook friends will betray you and your privacy settings. If that happens, what would they see? First, there's a video of me excelling at Wii Fit Hula Hoop. I reached the Calorie Torcher level (have since graduated to Calorie Incinerator, FYI), and I'm fully dressed, so it's all fine, right?
Then there is the matter of the many pictures of me with a drink in my hand, probably the main concern for my mom. Is it bad for your future employers to know you have a social life, or that you enjoy a cocktail now and then? The reality is that there are two things that are highly likely to occur at parties, and those two things are drinking and picture taking. It could even be argued that the more the former occurs, the more the latter does, too, and thus we've all got a million facebook pictures of us drinking. We do, right? Or is it just me? Say it's not just me.
If you google me, everything but maybe 2 links is science-related, which I feel is a very good rate. I was once quoted (using my real name) by the New York Times in a piece about a non-sciency website with which I've been fairly active, and while the article doesn't directly link to my posts on that site, most people could probably figure it out. My mom's primary worry with that one is my occasional use of profanity (and apparent fondness for fancy cocktails), but as far as I can tell, there are plenty of successful scientists with potty mouths out there.
So the big question is, how much housecleaning do I need to do, here? Do I need to make my internet presence spic-and-span? Should my social life even be considered in evaluations of my professional potential? I'd like to think that it shouldn't be--and if it is, I'd like to remind certain tenured professors about certain stories you've told me regarding you and certain other tenured professors on a certain night in Prague....
