Payoffs of wasting time

“Nothing matters but papers.”

This is the mantra of some folks in academic science, as highlighted in Doctor Zen’s post, which was sparked by a comment from an SfN10 blogger on Tideliar’s post regarding the negative reaction of some colleagues to his blog.

“Papers are the only thing that counts.”

For the benefit of any undergrads or new grad students out there, this is a bald-faced lie!!!

In the case of the most self-absorbed “mentors” (and I use this term lightly with the preceding modifier), then it could very well be true that the only important thing, in their minds, is for trainees to crank out papers that in turn get them (the PIs) grant. Note I say “for trainees” because these may be the very same people who spend a very small percentage of their time in their labs or offices because they travel so much. And they might also be the same ones who sit on papers until they’re perfect… or at least until they’re ready for their closeup in GlamourMag.

Papers are important. After all, they show that you produced results that survived the scrutiny of peer-review. But there are those advisers who seem to think that trainees should toil away in the lab 14 hours a day, 365 days of the year, for their entire time in the lab. All other things are simply distractions that take you away from time you should be generating results for the next publication.

Even setting aside things that contribute to one’s mental, social, and emotional well-being (which were taken on during the #k3rn3d fiasco), there are things outside of papers that matter to your career. There’s a dirty little secret that they’re not telling you: Good science alone isn’t enough.

If you ever encounter a PI who basically locks trainees away in the tower laboratory, run away as quickly as you can! If people in the lab never go to conferences, seminars, networking events, lunches with speakers… this is a huge problem. I have no link to back this up, but a career strategist (e.g. someone who helps people figure out what they’re doing with their careers and how to get a job) quoted Harvard Business Review as saying that 90% of jobs are found through someone the applicant knows, and she’s seen it time and again in life science industries. . Even in academia, where you have to go through search committees, interactions with applicants before they applied can influence the process. Speaking with a young PI, s/he commented that having met a search committee member had made the interview process a little more comfortable because a rapport was already established. The same person mentioned that s/he had seen applications thrown in the out pile early in the search process simply because someone had met the applicant for 5 minutes at a meeting and thought s/he was an arrogant ass. When you already have a job, meeting people is crucial. One successful PI said he underestimated the importance of attending meetings as a new PI. Why does it matter? Members of your grant review sections attend meetings, and getting your name out as an expert in your area is crucial to grant success. Plus informal interactions are, it seems, the most common way of establishing collaborations. A friend in grad school struck up a collaboration with another lab after attending a seminar and got a paper out of it. In grad school, I met with a candidate interviewing for a tenure-track position; s/he ended up taking a job elsewhere, which happens to be in my current city. We recently chatted, and I had no expectation of gaining anything beyond some discussion of the tenure-track career path; between travel and meeting time, this took about 2 hours out of my typical work day. In addition to some career and grant advice, I have a potential future collaborator who can offer just what I’m interested in and can’t get at my current locale.

Of course, this particular case-in-point above was about blogging and its “waste”. How can this possibly contribute to your career? I accept that I’m probably preaching to the choir at this point, but I’ll keep going. Science blogging and Twittering* require a time investment. And  there are many times, even a majority of times, that there is no or little tangible return on that investment. Guess what? Real-life interactions are exactly the same. But if you keep at it, and there’s a good chance that one of those interactions will pay off. Blogging can improve communication skills, and Twitter helps improve conciseness. It also provides a forum for discussing things you don’t often find in journals–like the ins and outs of applying for grants and jobs. I’m applying for a career development award next year and solicited advice from the Twitterati. Later that same day, my adviser and I were talking about the training plan section and the critiques that had come back regarding this section of another postdoc’s application. It matched exactly with what a few PIs on Twitter had told me. I may have received the same advice from both sources, but my adviser wouldn’t have had that perspective a year ago. Blogging and Twitter expand access to people who have recently and successfully competed for similar awards. That is an invaluable resource when you’re writing a grant.

Blogging is a timesink. So is talking with colleagues, meeting speakers, and attending seminars. But both things have incredible potential to provide opportunities you’d never have if you just barricaded yourself in the lab. Papers are important but publishing alone doesn’t get the job done. The careers of successful scientists (e.g. those doing what they want to do) are replete with evidence of this, regardless of their age. The digital age is simply bringing along new ways to waste time and make new connections.

 

* Upon request, I will have a post more specific to Twitter coming soon.

Posted in balance, blogging, networking | Tagged | Leave a comment

Burden of Proof

One of my favorite new blogs this year is Retraction Watch, written by Adam Marcus and Ivan Oransky, both carrying substantial science editing and journalism credentials. If you’re a scientist and you’re not following it, you really should. Anyway, last week brought the retraction of another high-profile and controversial immunology paper (which happened to be the fourth retraction from Nature this year and came in the same issue as an editorial about the increase in retractions). Oransky posted a response from Tom Decoursey, an author of a study that challenged the findings of the now-retracted paper. Decoursey makes a strong case for the importance of removing wrong answers from the literature. There was one thing he said that struck a dissonant chord with me. Decoursey says, in reference to this particular, retraction (emphasis mine):

Despite the fact that a few insiders had doubts about the Ahluwalia et al (2004) paper from the outset, and this was discussed heatedly at numerous international (specialty) meetings, it is incorrect to assume that most people knew what the real story was. Very few people are expert enough, or confident enough, to evaluate opposing claims. Even after two groups (Femling et al, 2006; Essin et al, 2007) had published papers thoroughly disproving every major conclusion reached in the Nature paper, the stock position taken by authors who published papers subsequently was, “There is controversy in the field” or “Group A says this, but Groups B & C say the opposite.” It is not clear how many papers must pile up to refute one incorrect study. Certainly the number is greater when the original study was published in Nature or Science.

I agree that it’s unclear how many “rights” negate a “wrong” so to speak. There are so many variables in experiments–many of which aren’t actually reported in manuscripts–that it can prove quite difficult to distinguish between variation in conditions (concentrations, lots, strains, etc.), honest mistakes, and intentional misconduct. But is the burden of proof higher (e.g. greater number of contradictory studies required) if the original finding in question is published in a GlamourMag? Should it be?

It doesn’t mean that the study or peer-review was more rigorous just because it is published in Cell, Nature, or Science. GlamourMags reject more manuscripts because they receive so many submissions and publish so few articles (compared to society journals). The standards for novelty, impact, and breadth (in theory) are higher because of the broad audiences for these journals. However, as far as I can tell, the peer-review process is much the same as it is for lower impact factor journals. Perhaps there are more rounds of review, higher expectations about the data presented, which sometimes result in experiments being thrown together at the last minute, trying to beat the editor’s deadline (thus those experiments might not be as stringently designed and controlled as one might like).

In my mind, the more important factor in determining the burden of proof is the type of study and the variables involved. Any study involving animals will generally require more evidence to refute than one based on in vitro studies. The more complex the methods, the more variables for which you have to account, perhaps the more evidence we should accumulate before collectively refuting a study–at least in the absence of evidence of fabrication or falsification. It’s still important to publish contradictory results, as this case has demonstrated. But the burden of proof should be determined by the methods not where the study is published.

Posted in conduct of research, publishing, retractions, scientific merit | 7 Comments

Living in the Void: How much is a postdoc worth?

A couple of months ago, I wrote what I intended to be the first post in a series about issues concerning postdoc pay, benefits, protections… We tend to fall into this amorphous, ambiguous state. We’re not students anymore, but we’re not always classified as employees. We’re neither here nor there. Being a postdoc is like being stuck in The Void between realities—hence the title of this series. Here we (re-)tackle a topic that is near and dear to all postdocs and that always sparks off debate: postdoc salaries in academia. This is an expanded, updated, and revised version of a post I wrote at the beginning of the year.

Late last year, Professor in Training initiated a discussion about the realities of the tenure track. A subplot emerged about paying postdocs “what they’re worth”. PhysioProf suggested that the NIH/NRSA payscale is a reasonable approximation of what a postdoc is worth. PiT asked:

What is a postdoc really ‘worth’? Is $40K/yr sufficient renumeration for someone who has >10 years of college education behind them?

As of 2010, the NIH set the pre-tax NRSA stipend*  of a first year postdoc at $37,740. The pay level increases with each year of completed experience; the increase averages out to approximately $2,000 per year, ranging from about $1,600 to $2,800 (evidently the NIH feels that postdocs gain the most worth during their second year). This marks an improvement over where things stood 10 years ago. In 2000, the National Academies of Sciences released a Congressionally-mandated report on the training of biomedical and behavioral researchers, the 11th such report since 1975. The report included this figure that compared the actual stipend levels from 1975 to 1999 with the 1975 stipend adjusted for inflation.

Notice how the lines for postdoc stipends do not converge. There was general consensus that the 1999 stipend levels were not commensurate with the education and experience of trainees. A statement from the NIH regarding the report stated:

The NIH concurs with the committee’s observation that NRSA stipends are unduly low in view of the high level of education and professional skills involved in biomedical research.

The NIH set targets of $25K for grad student stipends and $45K for entry-level postdoc stipends, planning budget increase requests of of 10 to 12% per year until those target were reached. Once the targets were reached, they planned annual increases on the basis cost-of-living.

So what happened? At the time the report was published, stipends for entry-level postdocs were around $28K. FY02 and FY03 brought the proposed 10 to 12% increases, bumping that level to $34,200. The next six years went: FY04, 4%; FY05, 0; FY06, 4%; FY07, 0; FY08, 0; FY09, 1%.** I doubt I have to remind you why federal budget increases took a dive between FY03 and FY04… or why they stagnated in FY07. Earlier this year, President Obama called for a 6% increase in funds allocated for training stipends.

Depending on your field, you might be wondering why I’m spending so much time discussing the NRSA payscale. Many institutions with substantial biomedical research programs use the NIH payscale to set their internal postdoc salary levels. This provides some advantage to postdocs by setting a minimum expectation. Now before any grad student gets too excited about that $10K raise between grad school and postdoc, consider a couple of things. A salary of $37K pushes you into the next federal tax bracket, so more money goes to the government. I also had the misfortune of moving from a state with nonexistent income tax to one with a moderate tax rate. Furthermore, my grad institution—and I suspect, many others—paid for health insurance separately. Postdocs generally have to pay at least a portion of their health insurance premiums. And not all institutions adhere to annual increases. All told, for almost 2 years as a postdoc, my take-home pay was virtually the same as it was in grad school (admittedly, my graduate stipend was pretty generous compared to some places).

Compounding the issue, institutes generally take the NIH pay scale as absolute truth and do not consider for cost-of-living. Many of the prestigious universities and medical schools in the U.S. are located in cities with much higher than average cost-of-living. Cost-of-living in my current city is about 30% higher than the national average (and my previous city). Some postdocs end up having to take out loans or use credit cards to supplement their living expenses because of the mismatch between salary and cost-of-living. Some people argue that we shouldn’t bring up the cost-of-living issue in these debates, because we chose to live in cities with exorbitant rent. But the flip side is, pedigree is important in science, especially for those striving for tenure-track positions (or at least, that’s what we’re told), and often the prodigeous labs are found in expensive cities.

The blame does not rest with the PI. When a PI is applying for a grant, s/he can only request up to the NIH/NRSA pay scale to cover a postdoc’s salary (Note: DrugMonkey suggests that this is actually not accurate). Anything over that pay scale must come (I assume) from discretionary funds that then, of course, cannot be used for other costs like supplies, equipment, or travel. As PhysioProf pointed out, the increases in postdoc stipends have been accompanied by administrative cuts and no change in the modular budgets of R01 grants, leaving PIs with less money for the lab. And, as far as I can tell, most research institutions expect PIs to cover postdoc stipends and benefits and make little or no institutional commitment or contribution to this large portion of their workforce.

The whole package might not be so hard to swallow if we were only in these positions for two or three years. Instead, to compete in the job market, we stick around to get more and/or higher profile publications, moving on four to eight years later. We emerge from our postdocs in our early 30s, still not breaking the $50K mark. Many of us as U.S.-born postdocs are still paying for our undergraduate education. Saving for retirement or kids’ college funds probably has not even crossed our minds, except to find the idea laughable. To add insult to injury, our friends and family who aren’t scientists assume that since we’re PhDs working for SnootyU, we must be approaching or making six-figure salaries. I made the choice to do a postdoc. I made the choice to move to an expensive city. These choices were made with my future career in mind. I think there are a couple of questions that myself and many other postdocs keep coming back to: Will I always be choosing between money and love (of career)? Is there any way to break the cycle?

* NRSA=National Research Service Award, a funding mechanism that specifically targets training of graduate students and postdocs. There are two forms: the institutional training grant and the individual fellowship, but both carry the same guidelines for salary and benefits.

** Postdoc stipends for FY02 to FY09

Posted in biomedical research, money, postdoc life, things they don't tell you in grad school, troubles of science | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Biochembelle and my secret identity

I have been blogging as biochembelle for approximately 1.3 years now. It has been a fascinating thing. Over the last few months, I’ve been thinking considerably about where this part of my life has come from, where it has taken me, and where I want to go with it.

I started off blogging pseudonymously, and for many months, Paramed was the only one who knew my “true identity”. Even today, most of my friends, colleagues, and family don’t know about my blogs. This came up on Twitter recently, and someone asked, in essence, why? Why would I keep my real life and my blog life separate, so to speak?

I think initially I didn’t know where blogging would go, how long I would stick with it, what I would have to say… I chose pseudonymity because I wanted to be free of worrying what people I know thought of me and this blogging thing. I felt that I could and would be more honest under a pseudonym than under my real name. And I think, in the beginning, that turned out to be true.

But now, I feel like I’ve found my voice–and it’s very much like the one that I use with my “real-life” friends. Even though I have a bit of a temper, I often take a moment before speaking, so I can moderate my tone and words. There are still times when I get riled enough to fire off a heated or snarky response, but for the most part, I show at least a little restraint.

Coming from the blogging side, I initially kept pretty tight control over things that might tip someone off to my real-life identity, partly for the same reason I didn’t tip real-life friends off to my blogging identity.  There was also a little fear about how my blogging would be received, and as I mentioned, I wasn’t entirely sure what voice and personality I was going to cultivate online.

Over the past few months, I have become less protective of my pseudonymity. There is a strong feeling of community in parts of the blogosphere and Twitter-verse that engenders a sense of trust. There are now a few bloggers with whom I communicate via email, who know at least some of the details of who I am, which I don’t discuss publicly. Most of these know my other/real-life identity. Even though these are people I feel like I could trust, I know fully that there’s the risk of it getting out.

I also find that there a places where my blogging and real-life identities are beginning to intersect, and it’s a little odd sometimes to have conversations with someone who doesn’t know about both. I’m thinking about how these two worlds can and should come together. Even though my blogs have mostly been about the culture, politics, and life of a scientist, I think there are other avenues I’d like to try out that might necessitate (or at least, be smoother) if my other identity is known.

And this is where I turn to the blogging community for help.

If you’re a pseud blogger–Who knows both your identities? Why did you choose to tell those people (if it was a choice)? What have their reactions been? What keeps you from merging identities publicly?

If you were once a pseud blogger but revealed your other identity along the way–Why did you do decide to reveal your other identity to the world at large? What was the impact of doing it? What have been the advantages and disadvantages? Overall, was it a positive or negative experience for you?

If you blog, and have always blogged, under your real name–Did you consider using a pseud, and if so, what prompted you to write under your real name? What has been the overall reaction to and impact of blogging under your real name?

I hope you’ll leave a comment or, if you prefer, write (or direct me to) a post about your choice and experience. Accept my advance gratitude for talking about this 🙂

Posted in blogging, pseudonymity | Tagged | 33 Comments

Shock Week

NobelAs you’re probably aware (unless you’ve been living under a rock), the Nobel Prize announcements were made last week, with the Prize in Economic Sciences being revealed tomorrow. Of course, it seems we can’t make it through Nobel Week without some amount of controversy, and this year was no exception. Please note that given the inflammatory nature of some comments, respondents only agreed to be quoted anonymously. Also be sure to check out the fine coverage by other bloggers by clicking through the links here.

Bob O’H of This Scientific Life provides excellent synopses of the dissension created by the first two Prize announcements.  Confidence in the Committees’ decisions was shaken from the start, as the Nobel Prize in Molecular Biology was awarded to Robert Edwards for a medical breakthrough, in vitro fertilization.

The controversy continued on Tuesday as the Nobel Prize in Physics recognized chemistry, for the isolation and characterization of graphene. Adding to spectators’ dismay over the prize, Andre Geim and Konstantin Novoselov isolated graphene only 6 years ago during their ‘Friday evening experiments’ using pencil lead and ordinary sticky tape. “It’s the bloody Nobel Prize, not MacGyver,” one anonymous scientist proclaimed. “What’s the point of all the late nights in the lab and the millions in grant monies spent, if it doesn’t buy you a medal?” Some felt that it was unfair that Geim should receive a second high profile award, after being honored with an Ig Nobel prize for levitating frogs a mere 10 years ago. In the words of one spectator, “The committee has set a dreadful precedent.” Others have expressed concern about one of Geim’s previous co-authors, H. A. M. S. ter Tisha. One physicist commented, “There’s something about his beady little eyes that unsettles me. I wouldn’t trust Tisha further than I could throw him. Admittedly, I might be able to toss him quite far given his rather small stature… Well, anyway, if I don’t trust one co-author, it casts a shadow on the other.”

After two questionable Prizes, many hoped the ruckus would end there, but they were doomed for disappointment as the Prize in Biochemistry also went to chemistry, in this case Richard Heck, Ei-Ichi Negishi, and Akira Suzuki for their work on palladium-catalyzed carbon cross couplings. “Sure, the title read Prize in Chemistry, but everyone knows that they mean Chemistry in Biology,” responded one professor of chemical biological chemistry and biochemistry. “I don’t know what the Committee was thinking, awarding it to organic synthetic chemists.” Casting a further pall over the Prize in Chemistry was the revelation that Lisa Simpson’s prediction for the PrizeKenkichi Sonogashiri who also developed a palladium-catalyzed coupling reaction–fell disturbingly close to reality. This has led to claims that Fox Broadcasting Corporation might have unduly influenced this year’s award. One analyst remarked, “Of course, Lisa’s pick and the Committee’s selection were not identical. That would be too obvious. However, the same class of reactions were chosen by both. Coincidence? I think not. I cannot imagine what hidden agenda Fox and the writers of the show are trying to push, but I think we should assume it’s not good.”

With all the hostility surrounding this year’s prizes, the Committees may indeed fare better next year by adopting the reality show selection model, as reported by Jonathan Eisen. At the very least, they should get higher TV ratings and might even bring in enough advertising revenue to swell the size of the prize.

Posted in attitudes, biomedical research, science fun | Tagged , | 4 Comments