OK, so obviously there is a lot of crying in science. It's just that whenever I try to come up with a title for a blog post all I can think of are pop culture references, and with "crying" as a theme it's either Tom Hanks' famous line from A League of Their Own--which I've never actually seen, but which is a sort-of reference itself, I think (though calling Virginia Woolf "pop culture" may be ill-advised)--or The Crying Game, so.
Where was I?
Oh yes, running out of my PI's office in tears. Now, there are some ladies out there who look really pretty when they're crying, like delicate, weeping flowers, but I am not one of those ladies. My eyes puff up like crazy and get thoroughly bloodshot--physiologic responses that take ages to restore themselves. If I were a damsel in distress, the knights would probably run away in disgust.
While I was waiting for the transformation back to recognizable human to occur, I emailed my graduate advisor; I was still too embarrassed to tell Famous Dude. I told her the long, sordid story, asking her advice on the whole situation. It was a rare feeling for me, but at that moment, I just wanted someone to tell me what to do.
My grad advisor is amazing. She got back to me in 20 minutes with names of people she knew who she thought might be good for a short post-doc, and lots of words of encouragement. And not warm squishy "poor baby" encouragement--she knows better than that. She wrote, "Inhibit that stress response and think of all the opportunities that interest you. [Learning] a new method could lead more easily to a job! Let me know what happens--DO NOT GIVE UP!!"
That helped, because my initial instinct was to write to Famous Dude something along the lines of, "I'm soooooooo sorry, but we didn't get the grant. If you think there's any way you could consider the possibility of maybe having me in the lab anyway, I would be eternally grateful!" Instead, I realized that I had to write to Famous Dude with confidence and with purpose, not humility and desperation. I said (and I'm paraphrasing, here), look, bad news re: the Foundation. But this is a good grant, and I think it could be re-purposed for this new R21 FOA I just read about. I want to write this grant with you as a co-investigator--I think we'd have a very good chance of getting funded. What do you say?
Famous Dude is not sure if he can support me without the Foundation money, and seemed perplexed by the comments from the Foundation review. One point of issue seemed to be that the Foundation wasn't clear on what Famous Dude's role was in all of this, and they were worried that I didn't necessarily have all the support I needed to carry out the studies I'd proposed. After emailing back and forth over the course of an hour, we decided that it might be a good idea for Famous Dude to send the Foundation a letter to clarify his full support.
Within 15 minutes I was Bcc'd on this letter, and again, the floodgates opened wide. This letter, from this man who owes me nothing, was incredible--four solid paragraphs on his commitment to the project, and, more notably, his dedication to my career development. He called me "an outstanding young scientist" with whom he has "long been impressed," among other nice things.
Between this and my grad advisor's correspondance, I was completely overcome with emotion. To know, at this time when I am feeling my absolute lowest, that there are people out there who firmly believe in me and are ready and willing to go to bat for me...well, it is more than I felt I deserved.
Unfortunately, Famous Dude's letter fell upon deaf ears. The Foundation sent a brief and dismissive reply, with no indication that resubmission might be possible. Fuckers.
So, where are we now?
Best case scenario, Famous Dude does his fall budget and is able to find funds for me. We apply for the R21, get it, and live happily ever after. This won't be known for at least another month, though, and I can't just sit around making no other plans. So in the meantime, I need to start looking for another lab for a (hopefully short) second post-doc. There are several concerns I have about this:
1. I feel like from a career standpoint, if you're going to do a 2nd post-doc, there has to be a real point to it. In other words, I think I should go somewhere I can learn a brand new technique. However,
2. I'm expensive. I've now had over 5 years of post-doc experience. Are people going to be willing to hire someone who's not only pricey, but needs to be trained as well? I'd imagine that if someone were going to shell out the dough for an experienced post-doc, they'd want that person because she would be bringing a well-honed skill set to the lab.
3. I talked to one of our new faculty about possibly joining his lab. He uses some very cool techniques that would be great for me to learn and his interests broadly overlap with mine, so it seems like a good fit. He agreed, but he doesn't have enough money. He also made the interesting point that if I plan on applying for funding, I shouldn't be with a new faculty member like him, I need to be with someone like Famous Dude. Given how ecstatic my K99 reviewers were over my "Environment" (all 1s!), I think he's probably right.
I'd love all your thoughts and advice, here. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of either doing something awesome or completely blowing it--like expat postdoc notes in the comments of the last post, I don't want to take any old shitty position. However, I do need to pay my rent--as you might imagine, living in NY on a post-doc's salary does not allow one to save much of a cushion for times like these.
Finally, thanks again to everyone who commented and sent nice messages--on the blog, twitter, or via email--I'm so grateful to have such a caring and supportive group of readers!
The Plight of the Post-Doc
Showing posts with label the hopelessness of the young investigator. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the hopelessness of the young investigator. Show all posts
8.10.2010
8.09.2010
There's no crying in science!!?? (part 1)
Like 28% of iPhone users, I popped on the interwebs before getting out of bed Thursday morning. I was greeted by an email from the Foundation telling me that they would not be funding my proposal. The proposal that they asked me to write, and were very enthusiastic about in general. The proposal that would allow me to work with Famous Dude, crank out a high profile paper or two, and score a sweet TT job in another year or so (that easy!!!!). We really thought this grant was going to be funded.
Instead of a done deal, it's simply done--all of those hopes dashed by a reviewer who seemingly did not actually read the grant. Yeah, I know everybody says that when they get their summary statements, but seriously--how else do you explain criticisms like "it is not clear to us how many animals will be studied and what is the number of rats per experiment," when the first line of each Aim's methods states, for example, "Sixty male Sprague Dawley rats will be used for this experiment?"
The rejection has a lot of ramifications that are really quite serious in the context of my very near and very distant future. Not only does it mean that I most likely can't go work with Famous Dude, but it may mean that I will be unemployed in a few months. For the purposes of actually getting out of bed, though, I flicked the old denial switch to "on" and went about my usual morning activities: kitty medicine, Luna Bar, gym clothes, subway.
Once in lab, however, reality set in as I repeatedly fielded "how are you's" and "what's new's" from my lab mates (we are a friendly bunch!). Unlike Famous Dude, I have a terrible poker face, so it wasn't long before I was reaching for the Kimwipes. Per usual, my lab peeps were super supportive and awesome and agreed that the reviewer comments were probably written by the Foundation CEO's pomeranian.
When I broke the news to PI, he was extremely surprised, but had few words of comfort. He did, however, have many words of discomfort, most of which served to inform me that the grant I'm currently on would definitely run out sometime this fall. I listened to him, pressing firmly on the bridge of my nose, willing the tears back inside their ducts. It was of little use. When there was nothing else to say, I quickly thanked PI and ran out of his office before I completely lost it.
It is as if the floor has dropped out from under me. In 2-3 months I will lose my job, my health insurance, my productivity...all at a point in my career when I really need to be working. It is terrifying.
There is more to this story, of the not-necessarily-solving-any-problems-but-uplifting-nonetheless variety. But this is quite long already, so I'll leave it there, for now...
Instead of a done deal, it's simply done--all of those hopes dashed by a reviewer who seemingly did not actually read the grant. Yeah, I know everybody says that when they get their summary statements, but seriously--how else do you explain criticisms like "it is not clear to us how many animals will be studied and what is the number of rats per experiment," when the first line of each Aim's methods states, for example, "Sixty male Sprague Dawley rats will be used for this experiment?"
The rejection has a lot of ramifications that are really quite serious in the context of my very near and very distant future. Not only does it mean that I most likely can't go work with Famous Dude, but it may mean that I will be unemployed in a few months. For the purposes of actually getting out of bed, though, I flicked the old denial switch to "on" and went about my usual morning activities: kitty medicine, Luna Bar, gym clothes, subway.
Once in lab, however, reality set in as I repeatedly fielded "how are you's" and "what's new's" from my lab mates (we are a friendly bunch!). Unlike Famous Dude, I have a terrible poker face, so it wasn't long before I was reaching for the Kimwipes. Per usual, my lab peeps were super supportive and awesome and agreed that the reviewer comments were probably written by the Foundation CEO's pomeranian.
When I broke the news to PI, he was extremely surprised, but had few words of comfort. He did, however, have many words of discomfort, most of which served to inform me that the grant I'm currently on would definitely run out sometime this fall. I listened to him, pressing firmly on the bridge of my nose, willing the tears back inside their ducts. It was of little use. When there was nothing else to say, I quickly thanked PI and ran out of his office before I completely lost it.
It is as if the floor has dropped out from under me. In 2-3 months I will lose my job, my health insurance, my productivity...all at a point in my career when I really need to be working. It is terrifying.
There is more to this story, of the not-necessarily-solving-any-problems-but-uplifting-nonetheless variety. But this is quite long already, so I'll leave it there, for now...
7.05.2010
Standards Deviation
Growing up, there were a finite number of video tapes in our house. We didn't even have all that many, but it's like at a certain point we just stopped buying them, or bothering to record free HBO weekends. What this meant, then, is that my sister and I had seen everything we owned literally dozens of times, and could (and probably still can) quote most of them from start to finish. The brain's capacity for dialogue (and song lyrics!) is truly staggering, isn't it?
One of our favorites was the 1992 Cameron Crowe classic Singles, which while on the surface may seem to be your run-of-the-mill ensemble cast non-story about a bunch of 20-somethings looking for love in grunge-era Seattle, I'd argue that the film is notable not only for cameo appearances by some of the period's most influential figures--Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, and Tim Burton, to name but a few--but also for its genuine insight into the way people value themselves, and how that translates in their day-to-day interactions.
The movie is also eminently quotable, and one that has really resonated with me through the last 18 years (ZOMG) is a scene in which Campbell Scott asks Bridget Fonda what it is women really want from a guy. She replies:
Well, when I first moved out here, I wanted a guy with looks, security, caring...someone with their own place, someone who said "bless you" or "gesundheit" when I sneezed...someone who liked the same things as me, but not exactly...and someone who loves me.
He's all "Wow, that's a lot!" and she's all "Yeah, I've scaled back a little," and he's like, "So what's the list now?" and the answer:
Someone who says "gesundheit."
I feel like I've had pretty much the exact same conversation with myself over the last year or two, but regarding my job, not men (in that arena, as you might imagine, I have unwaveringly maintained the highest of standards). If you'd asked me a couple of years ago where I wanted to be in five years, I'd probably have said something like, "Well, I'd like a job in academia. Ideally, I'll be tenure track faculty somewhere, either at an R1 university or a prestigious liberal arts college. Either way, the students will be super smart. And it'll be in or near a really cool city, hopefully in the Northeast. And I'll be doing some teaching, but not too much teaching, and I'll have a perfectly small-to-medium-sized lab where we take an interdisciplinary and elegant approach to answering timely and clinically relevant questions. Etc!"
But had you asked me again, say, 6 months ago, my answer would have been more like, "Well, I'd like a job." The unscored K99 made me seriously re-evaluate my place in the TT applicant pool, and like Bridget Fonda, I lowered my standards. I applied EVERYWHERE, including many places that didn't at all fit my dream job description, and even started browsing job ads for non-academic positions. Now, there are of course good reasons for doing this anyway, like experience and leverage and maybe-I'll-be-surprised-by-how-much-I-like-southwestern-Idaho, but if I'm being honest, it was at least in part out of feelings of desperation.
I HATE feelings of desperation!
Well, there's nothing like a couple of good meetings to show feelings of desperation the door, and I came back from two last month thinking to myself, Did I actually allow myself to entertain the possibility of a job in publishing? We can DO this! (that's the royal "we," which I've found is also quite useful re: self-esteem.)
More concretely, I've been invited to apply for a grant from a Private Foundation, which would fund two years of work with Famous Dude. I wrote the proposal, and it pleased Famous Dude. Things are moving along. I'm not letting myself get too excited, but I like to think of things as "definitely not not happening." If it all works out, my stock should rise significantly. And in anticipation, my standards have begun to creep up as well.
One of our favorites was the 1992 Cameron Crowe classic Singles, which while on the surface may seem to be your run-of-the-mill ensemble cast non-story about a bunch of 20-somethings looking for love in grunge-era Seattle, I'd argue that the film is notable not only for cameo appearances by some of the period's most influential figures--Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, and Tim Burton, to name but a few--but also for its genuine insight into the way people value themselves, and how that translates in their day-to-day interactions.
The movie is also eminently quotable, and one that has really resonated with me through the last 18 years (ZOMG) is a scene in which Campbell Scott asks Bridget Fonda what it is women really want from a guy. She replies:
Well, when I first moved out here, I wanted a guy with looks, security, caring...someone with their own place, someone who said "bless you" or "gesundheit" when I sneezed...someone who liked the same things as me, but not exactly...and someone who loves me.
He's all "Wow, that's a lot!" and she's all "Yeah, I've scaled back a little," and he's like, "So what's the list now?" and the answer:
Someone who says "gesundheit."
I feel like I've had pretty much the exact same conversation with myself over the last year or two, but regarding my job, not men (in that arena, as you might imagine, I have unwaveringly maintained the highest of standards). If you'd asked me a couple of years ago where I wanted to be in five years, I'd probably have said something like, "Well, I'd like a job in academia. Ideally, I'll be tenure track faculty somewhere, either at an R1 university or a prestigious liberal arts college. Either way, the students will be super smart. And it'll be in or near a really cool city, hopefully in the Northeast. And I'll be doing some teaching, but not too much teaching, and I'll have a perfectly small-to-medium-sized lab where we take an interdisciplinary and elegant approach to answering timely and clinically relevant questions. Etc!"
But had you asked me again, say, 6 months ago, my answer would have been more like, "Well, I'd like a job." The unscored K99 made me seriously re-evaluate my place in the TT applicant pool, and like Bridget Fonda, I lowered my standards. I applied EVERYWHERE, including many places that didn't at all fit my dream job description, and even started browsing job ads for non-academic positions. Now, there are of course good reasons for doing this anyway, like experience and leverage and maybe-I'll-be-surprised-by-how-much-I-like-southwestern-Idaho, but if I'm being honest, it was at least in part out of feelings of desperation.
I HATE feelings of desperation!
Well, there's nothing like a couple of good meetings to show feelings of desperation the door, and I came back from two last month thinking to myself, Did I actually allow myself to entertain the possibility of a job in publishing? We can DO this! (that's the royal "we," which I've found is also quite useful re: self-esteem.)
More concretely, I've been invited to apply for a grant from a Private Foundation, which would fund two years of work with Famous Dude. I wrote the proposal, and it pleased Famous Dude. Things are moving along. I'm not letting myself get too excited, but I like to think of things as "definitely not not happening." If it all works out, my stock should rise significantly. And in anticipation, my standards have begun to creep up as well.
5.06.2010
I need a montage!
Getting back into the swing of things after a meeting is never the smoothest of transitions, but this week's post-Experimental Biology re-entry has been especially bumpy. I returned to a stack of exams to grade, an experiment to finish, a lecture to prepare, and general feelings of uneasiness about my future. The exams took fucking forever longer than I'd have liked, and then my stupid control experiment (the only thing I need before writing it up) produced nothing measurable, so I have to troubleshoot and do it again. Waahh.
Whatever, I do it again, not a big deal. What is a big deal is that I also met with my boss this week, and for the first time we out-loud acknowledged what we've been ignoring for a while now: there is no definite funding for my project after the summer. This means that there's no funding for me unless I want to switch to working on the lab's main project, which is significantly different from what I've been doing so far. Now, not only do I not want to be on that project, but I don't think it would be a good move, career-wise. This is the time I'm supposed to be defining myself, doing work that's explicitly my own; on this project I'd literally be just a set of hands.
So there's that! You might say I've got some shit to figure out. Do I look for a new lab that's doing things more in sync with my interests? Suck it up and help out with my current lab's big project for a bit while I apply for grants of my own (many thanks to Drug Monkey's Twitter advice and link re: R vs K awards)? Give up completely?
Whenever people in the movies reach that pivotal point at which they go from feeling beat-down to getting their act together to accomplish their Big Goal, there's a montage to demonstrate the person's journey from beat-down-ness to awesomeness. A particularly on-point commentary on this phenomenon can be found in the near-classic film Team America: World Police
I feel like I need a montage. In my montage, you'll see me alternately: having thoughtful sciencey discussions with potential future collaborators in downtown cafes; pipetting; typing late at night (to demonstrate lateness, you'll see J come over to me at my desk, kiss me on the forehead, and stumble sleepily off to bed, shaking his head in disbelief at how hard I'm working); looking at beautiful fluorescent things in a microscope; hitting "submit manuscript" with a satisfied and accomplished look on my face; etc!
Oh and also there'll be a shot of me teaching as students look on, totally engaged and totally not checking facebook. Today I gave my first bona fide lecture that I put together myself completely from scratch, and even though I was very stressed out when I was making it last night at 2 am (this is the way you professors do things, yes?), I think it went very well. The professor in charge of the class seemed really happy with my decisions on what to include, and when I was up there talking I remember thinking at one point, "Wow! People are actually writing down the things that I'm saying!" I mean, obviously this happens at meetings or whatever all the time, but for some reason this felt different. I was molding young minds!
ANYway...yeah. To conclude, montages are totally motivational and I really need to get pumped up here. It's going to be an interesting couple of months...
Whatever, I do it again, not a big deal. What is a big deal is that I also met with my boss this week, and for the first time we out-loud acknowledged what we've been ignoring for a while now: there is no definite funding for my project after the summer. This means that there's no funding for me unless I want to switch to working on the lab's main project, which is significantly different from what I've been doing so far. Now, not only do I not want to be on that project, but I don't think it would be a good move, career-wise. This is the time I'm supposed to be defining myself, doing work that's explicitly my own; on this project I'd literally be just a set of hands.
So there's that! You might say I've got some shit to figure out. Do I look for a new lab that's doing things more in sync with my interests? Suck it up and help out with my current lab's big project for a bit while I apply for grants of my own (many thanks to Drug Monkey's Twitter advice and link re: R vs K awards)? Give up completely?
Whenever people in the movies reach that pivotal point at which they go from feeling beat-down to getting their act together to accomplish their Big Goal, there's a montage to demonstrate the person's journey from beat-down-ness to awesomeness. A particularly on-point commentary on this phenomenon can be found in the near-classic film Team America: World Police
I feel like I need a montage. In my montage, you'll see me alternately: having thoughtful sciencey discussions with potential future collaborators in downtown cafes; pipetting; typing late at night (to demonstrate lateness, you'll see J come over to me at my desk, kiss me on the forehead, and stumble sleepily off to bed, shaking his head in disbelief at how hard I'm working); looking at beautiful fluorescent things in a microscope; hitting "submit manuscript" with a satisfied and accomplished look on my face; etc!
Oh and also there'll be a shot of me teaching as students look on, totally engaged and totally not checking facebook. Today I gave my first bona fide lecture that I put together myself completely from scratch, and even though I was very stressed out when I was making it last night at 2 am (this is the way you professors do things, yes?), I think it went very well. The professor in charge of the class seemed really happy with my decisions on what to include, and when I was up there talking I remember thinking at one point, "Wow! People are actually writing down the things that I'm saying!" I mean, obviously this happens at meetings or whatever all the time, but for some reason this felt different. I was molding young minds!
ANYway...yeah. To conclude, montages are totally motivational and I really need to get pumped up here. It's going to be an interesting couple of months...
3.08.2010
Glamour Mag(ic)!
I hope you all enjoyed your soup! I know I did. There will be more Ph.Dishes (with pictures!) very soon--I've got to get in all my wintry meals before it's too warm for things like slow-cooked short ribs with cheesy grits!
For now, though, let's get back to some career issues, and by "issues" I mean "journal issues." Glamour journals, to be specific--Science, Nature, Cell, etc. You know! They're kind of a big deal. Having a Glamour Mag publication on your CV is often considered to be an indication of extreme hotness; your work is cutting edge, important, and interesting to pretty much everybody (HA)! For a young investigator, it may play an important part in whether potential employers want to interview you, or in whether your Pathway to Independence grant gets funded (or, in my case, even scored).
Biochem Belle has an open thread going right now that asks whether it's better, in general, to have one S/N/C paper or a couple of solid PNASes or JBCs. Her commenters so far seem to be leaning toward the latter option, including one who's been reviewing many job applications. If this is actually reflective of the attitudes of the science community as a whole, then I'd be very happy, because as Zen points out, some of us might never have a Glamour Mag paper.
Does this mean that I'm not doing hot science that's relevant and important to the world? Of course not. Are all my publications in Neuroreport? Not a one. I'm just a little...niche-y, that's all. I'm totally happy with my niche, and having projects that aren't part of my lab's primary grants has afforded me a level of independence that other trainees don't necessarily have. The downside, though, is that I may have missed out on being on a higher-profile paper or two. And until recently, I was comfortable with the trade-off.
Look, I know you won't believe me when I say this, but I never cared all that much about having a Glamour Mag paper. As long as I've had the means to ask the questions I wanted to ask and got the work into solidly respected journals, I've been happy. I've been asked to speak at conferences, won "Best Poster" and travel awards, got Ye Olde NRSA...the cap's got some feathers, you understand?
But to continue the metaphor, my cap is missing that big shiny jewel (or really rare and exquisite feather) that is or isn't a must, depending on who you ask. So I'm asking you: in the current job market, is it even worth sending in applications without a Glamour pub? And if it's unlikely that S/N/C will be publishing a Dr Becca first author any time soon, what's a niche-y gal to do?
2.04.2010
We will not be acting further on your application
There is something so charmingly anachronistic in how, despite the entire application process being electronic, I'm receiving hand-signed letters of rejection in my mailbox. I'm all for the personal touch, but really, why bother? It costs money--both in stamps and in high-quality watermarked university letterhead--and time; 497 signatures simply cannot, nor should be, done in one sitting. Carpal tunnel, you know (though you could always blame it on the sex). Plus it's bad for the environment, as I am not one of those people who keep their rejection letters as some sort of ironic trophy. My most recent is on a barge to a New Jersey landfill, I am sure of it.
To date, the number of official no-thank-you's is a surprisingly small two, but I can't imagine that this is an accurate representation of the number of departments that have decided not to act further on my application. Or does everyone send these letters? I had sort of presumed that the radio silence from, well, everywhere else was an indication that They're Just Not That Into Me, but should I still be holding out some hope? Fat lady sings, etc?
Feel free to answer these questions in the comments without regard to my feelings or whatever. I've come to the full realization that I really have no idea how any of this works, because it's different everywhere. All I can do is get my work done and try to put another manuscript together by the time the next hiring cycle comes around......or is there something else I can do? Again, fire away!
To date, the number of official no-thank-you's is a surprisingly small two, but I can't imagine that this is an accurate representation of the number of departments that have decided not to act further on my application. Or does everyone send these letters? I had sort of presumed that the radio silence from, well, everywhere else was an indication that They're Just Not That Into Me, but should I still be holding out some hope? Fat lady sings, etc?
Feel free to answer these questions in the comments without regard to my feelings or whatever. I've come to the full realization that I really have no idea how any of this works, because it's different everywhere. All I can do is get my work done and try to put another manuscript together by the time the next hiring cycle comes around......or is there something else I can do? Again, fire away!
1.26.2010
Science Mag: Late to the party and a total buzzkill
In news of the obvious, Science recently printed a piece entitled "Tenure-Track Jobs Remain Scarce." It describes the phenomenon in which experienced post-docs, unable to land a TT offer, go and do a second post-doc. I presume you're familiar. At first I thought it was a new-decade flashback kind of thing--you know, where they print articles from several years ago out of nostalgia for the aughts? But then I realized that no, this is current. Current, yes; new, no.
The piece reads like this:
1. It's hard to get a job.
2. Because there are no jobs.
3. Because universities have no money.
4. Stimulus package money helped a little, but not that much, plus it's all gone anyway, so...not that much.
5. Q: "Where will all the scientists go?"
A: Europe, but actually only a few of us will do that.
6. We. Are. FUCKED.
Oh, really?
What I find interesting about this article is that it highlights the fact that universities less affected by the economic downturn are able to have their pick of the litter when it comes to TT applicants. Well!! How nice for them!! There is a silver lining after all! It reminds me of all the articles that came out when the economy started tanking that covered how shitty life was for everyone who had lost their jobs or had their hours cut or whatever, but for those unaffected, there were some fabulous deals to be had on seriously reduced luxury items!
What I also find interesting is that there are no solutions offered. Not even a suggestion that anyone, anywhere is working on it. This on the heels of news that NIH will be passing the buck with respect to funding young researchers (go read MsPhD's and DrugMonkey's assessments of Francis Collins's announcement), and it's all one can do not to throw up one's hands in despair.
One thing I've noticed since I've started blogging is that although there are dozens of really amazing post-doc bloggers, I haven't found anyone else who's actively talking about their own job search. Are you out there? Even if you're not a blogger, but just a reader, I'd love to hear how things are going for others in my position. I can't be the only one; if I were, I'd probably have a job by now.
The piece reads like this:
1. It's hard to get a job.
2. Because there are no jobs.
3. Because universities have no money.
4. Stimulus package money helped a little, but not that much, plus it's all gone anyway, so...not that much.
5. Q: "Where will all the scientists go?"
A: Europe, but actually only a few of us will do that.
6. We. Are. FUCKED.
Oh, really?
What I find interesting about this article is that it highlights the fact that universities less affected by the economic downturn are able to have their pick of the litter when it comes to TT applicants. Well!! How nice for them!! There is a silver lining after all! It reminds me of all the articles that came out when the economy started tanking that covered how shitty life was for everyone who had lost their jobs or had their hours cut or whatever, but for those unaffected, there were some fabulous deals to be had on seriously reduced luxury items!
What I also find interesting is that there are no solutions offered. Not even a suggestion that anyone, anywhere is working on it. This on the heels of news that NIH will be passing the buck with respect to funding young researchers (go read MsPhD's and DrugMonkey's assessments of Francis Collins's announcement), and it's all one can do not to throw up one's hands in despair.
One thing I've noticed since I've started blogging is that although there are dozens of really amazing post-doc bloggers, I haven't found anyone else who's actively talking about their own job search. Are you out there? Even if you're not a blogger, but just a reader, I'd love to hear how things are going for others in my position. I can't be the only one; if I were, I'd probably have a job by now.
10.20.2009
Show me the money! (a chat with Francis Collins)
First off, I have to give a giant hat-tip to Scicurious, Kristen, Mike Pascoe, and the rest of the official Neurobloggers. You guys are doing an amazing job covering some of the best parts of the conference, and I was wondering if I could maybe score some of whatever it is you're taking? Seriously, I'm so freaking exhausted every day I can hardly manage to order my dinner, let alone write a coherent and insightful synopsis of all the cool science I saw, so, well done!
Anyway, so you've been enjoying the first half of SfN, checking out posters, having Deep Intellectual Conversations, and listening to awe-inspiring talks by world-class scientists. But all the while, something in the back of your mind has been nagging you--what is Dr Becca's Big Secret??? It's time to tell you. You're ready.
A few days ago I was invited to be part of a small post-doc panel that would meet for an hour with Francis Collins, new Obama-appointed director of the NIH. Apparently Dr Collins wanted to hear from the Scientists of the Future regarding ourdeepest desires general thoughts and concerns, and so 10 of us sat down with him and several NIH division heads this morning to discuss. Naturally, I was very excited to be included in this meeting, given that I've had much on my mind lately re: becoming a Scientist of the Future.
Dr Francis was super friendly and warm and nice, and seemed to genuinely care about what we had to say. The conversation started out benignly enough with some chit-chat about the state of connectomes and other databases and how useful they will be to Scientists of the Future, but during the discussion I couldn't suppress the thoughts in my brain that were saying, "can't anyone talk about databases? Aren't we here because we're post-docs, in one of the trickiest and most precarious positions any scientist will be in? Let's talk about me and my problems!"
Other panel members seemed to have the same internal monologue as I did, because it wasn't long before we were all demanding money left and right--better benefits with training grants, cost of living considerations in stipend minimums (as a New Yorker, I said a real "Amen!" when this was brought up), improved funding opportunities for senior post-docs and junior faculty, and financial incentives for engaging in scientific outreach.
I was waiting for the moment when one of the division heads would burst and call us out on the greedy, whiny, entitled bitches we were making ourselves out to be, but that moment never came. They actually seemed to be listening to us--our problems aren't new ones, and they're already taking real positive steps to try to fix some of them. R01 submissions from first-time applicants are now being evaluated separately (and slightly more leniently) from those of more established PIs, in hopes of bringing down the statistic that the average age for new PIs to get their first R01 is currently a staggering 42 (I asked Dr Collins straight up, "what am I supposed to do for nine years??). They've also created the P30 grants, which are given to universities to create junior faculty positions. This, I think, is a great idea, and one of the openings I've applied for is funded in this way.
Some of the other points are a little further away from being solved, but not once did anyone tell us that our concerns and suggestions were unrealistic. Of course, an hour is not nearly enough time for a Scientist of the Future to unload all of her hopes, dreams, and fears on the most powerful man in American health research, but I think the fact that he even took the time to get this together is a sign of good things to come.
It goes without saying that it would have been a lot more awesome if things went down like this:
Collins: What can I do to make post-docs' lives and careers better?
Us: Give us money and jobs, please.
Collins: OH!!! Is that it?? I had no idea it would be so easy! Done and Done.
Us: Sweet.
< high-five >
Anyway, so you've been enjoying the first half of SfN, checking out posters, having Deep Intellectual Conversations, and listening to awe-inspiring talks by world-class scientists. But all the while, something in the back of your mind has been nagging you--what is Dr Becca's Big Secret??? It's time to tell you. You're ready.
A few days ago I was invited to be part of a small post-doc panel that would meet for an hour with Francis Collins, new Obama-appointed director of the NIH. Apparently Dr Collins wanted to hear from the Scientists of the Future regarding our
Dr Francis was super friendly and warm and nice, and seemed to genuinely care about what we had to say. The conversation started out benignly enough with some chit-chat about the state of connectomes and other databases and how useful they will be to Scientists of the Future, but during the discussion I couldn't suppress the thoughts in my brain that were saying, "can't anyone talk about databases? Aren't we here because we're post-docs, in one of the trickiest and most precarious positions any scientist will be in? Let's talk about me and my problems!"
Other panel members seemed to have the same internal monologue as I did, because it wasn't long before we were all demanding money left and right--better benefits with training grants, cost of living considerations in stipend minimums (as a New Yorker, I said a real "Amen!" when this was brought up), improved funding opportunities for senior post-docs and junior faculty, and financial incentives for engaging in scientific outreach.
I was waiting for the moment when one of the division heads would burst and call us out on the greedy, whiny, entitled bitches we were making ourselves out to be, but that moment never came. They actually seemed to be listening to us--our problems aren't new ones, and they're already taking real positive steps to try to fix some of them. R01 submissions from first-time applicants are now being evaluated separately (and slightly more leniently) from those of more established PIs, in hopes of bringing down the statistic that the average age for new PIs to get their first R01 is currently a staggering 42 (I asked Dr Collins straight up, "what am I supposed to do for nine years??). They've also created the P30 grants, which are given to universities to create junior faculty positions. This, I think, is a great idea, and one of the openings I've applied for is funded in this way.
Some of the other points are a little further away from being solved, but not once did anyone tell us that our concerns and suggestions were unrealistic. Of course, an hour is not nearly enough time for a Scientist of the Future to unload all of her hopes, dreams, and fears on the most powerful man in American health research, but I think the fact that he even took the time to get this together is a sign of good things to come.
It goes without saying that it would have been a lot more awesome if things went down like this:
Collins: What can I do to make post-docs' lives and careers better?
Us: Give us money and jobs, please.
Collins: OH!!! Is that it?? I had no idea it would be so easy! Done and Done.
Us: Sweet.
< high-five >
9.28.2009
This is actually kind of serious.
When I came into lab last Wednesday, my excellent bay-mate E (for the non-sciency among my readers, this is the equivalent of a cubicle friend) said, "Hey Becca, I got an article for you. It's called 'Real Lives and White Lies in the Funding of Scientific Research'." It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside that something with such an ominous title made him think of me. The article is a perspective piece in PLoS Biology, a highly-respected journal published by the Public Library of Science, and it could very well be titled 'Why, Dr Becca, Your Life is Going to Suck'.
The article outlines some of the major problems with the current grants system and how the careers of young scientists can be negatively affected. Most junior faculty are responsible for obtaining funding to pay for the bulk (if not all) of their research (not to mention their salaries), in addition to teaching classes, training graduate students and postdocs, and actually doing the research. But the way the system is currently structured, grants only cover ~3 years of funding and can take several years to secure, which means that we're constantly applying for grants, while teaching, training, and lab work are forced to be secondary priorities. This puts us in a catch-22, because we're more likely to be awarded a grant if we've published our work. Moreover, because grant applications are so long and complicated and grants reviewers spend relatively little time actually reviewing each proposal, we're rewarded for composing tidy, tight little package proposals rather than those based on more organic, risk-taking, and free-flowing ideas (which, it could be argued, is how some of the best science happens).
None of this is news, of course. We've all been kvetching about these problems for ages (if there's one thing that scientists as a whole excel at, it's commiserating...and schadenfreude), but at the same time, seeing it all in print is sobering. That's me they're talking about in the article, my not-so-distant future if I succeed (!!) in my quest for a tenure-track job. What's also sobering was noticing on the PLoS website that despite 19,000 views of the article, there were only nine comments. Nine!! There's clearly a lot to be said here, but why aren't we engaging in real, public discussion?
I would seriously love to hear from everyone here, especially if you or someone you know is a new faculty member. How is it going? How do you balance securing funding with all of your other responsibilities? Do you think we need major reform in the grants system, and if so, how do we go about making it happen? This, I feel, is the biggest hurdle, and it will never be cleared if we don't talk about it.
The article outlines some of the major problems with the current grants system and how the careers of young scientists can be negatively affected. Most junior faculty are responsible for obtaining funding to pay for the bulk (if not all) of their research (not to mention their salaries), in addition to teaching classes, training graduate students and postdocs, and actually doing the research. But the way the system is currently structured, grants only cover ~3 years of funding and can take several years to secure, which means that we're constantly applying for grants, while teaching, training, and lab work are forced to be secondary priorities. This puts us in a catch-22, because we're more likely to be awarded a grant if we've published our work. Moreover, because grant applications are so long and complicated and grants reviewers spend relatively little time actually reviewing each proposal, we're rewarded for composing tidy, tight little package proposals rather than those based on more organic, risk-taking, and free-flowing ideas (which, it could be argued, is how some of the best science happens).
None of this is news, of course. We've all been kvetching about these problems for ages (if there's one thing that scientists as a whole excel at, it's commiserating...and schadenfreude), but at the same time, seeing it all in print is sobering. That's me they're talking about in the article, my not-so-distant future if I succeed (!!) in my quest for a tenure-track job. What's also sobering was noticing on the PLoS website that despite 19,000 views of the article, there were only nine comments. Nine!! There's clearly a lot to be said here, but why aren't we engaging in real, public discussion?
I would seriously love to hear from everyone here, especially if you or someone you know is a new faculty member. How is it going? How do you balance securing funding with all of your other responsibilities? Do you think we need major reform in the grants system, and if so, how do we go about making it happen? This, I feel, is the biggest hurdle, and it will never be cleared if we don't talk about it.
