Management...

I wanted to blog about something that I've discussed with many people over the years: The management of a scientific group (specifically here, an academic lab). I have to admit that I was rather shocked the first time that I learned that professors generally don't need to go through any serious 'management' training1. I find this somewhat strange as companies routinely hire business and management majors directly out of college in order to oversee accounts that aren't exhorbitantly larger than some grants that PIs are working with. I've now worked under the supervision of 4 separate PIs, and I've observed that techniques vary wildely, as does success.

It seems obvious to me (though correct me if I'm wrong) that managing a scientific lab is qualitatively different than managing a company. Allow me to explain via a personal example: I worked as the night-shift manager at a Shopper's Drug Mart Pharmacy for 4 months between finishing my M.Sc. and beginning my Ph.D.2. When I came in for my shift, I looked at what people had to accomplish for the evening and delegated responsibility to my employees; that is, I told them precisely what to do. An academic lab may have a few people that fit the 'tell them what to do' bill - technicians and junior grad students, for instance - but senior grad students and postdocs are typically considered to be fairly independent.

Following on that topic of independence, a previous advisor of mine once described relationships within academic labs as 'partnerships', consisting of a senior partner (the PI) and various 'junior' partners with varying degrees of investment in the direction of their own work as well as the lab's. The job of the senior partner was therefore to steer the lab towards accomplishing its overall 'vision', for lack of a better term, by hiring interested people as well and 'consulting' on projects. I think that this consulting role plays a part in explaining why many lab websites say things like, 'we are broadly interested in...'. There are many ways to chip away at the myriad of current 'hot topics' in science.

I imagine that this ability to trust in the independent judgement of 'junior partners' is probably one of the most challenging tasks of being a PI. Unlike the 9-5 jobs at the office, people in labs tend to work in very different ways, and it's not always obvious that any particular person is being 'appropriately' productive. The obvious solution is to check in regularly with weekly lab meetings and/or round-tables. However, it's pretty common to hear of situations where supervisors want weekly written progress reports. A very controlling person may decide to take a completely top-down (a.k.a. 'hands-on') approach and simply come tell you what to do regularly.

There are pros and cons to the above scenarios. PIs who are too 'hands off' can leave more junior members floundering - it's not everyone who's able to walk into a new lab and design a project from the ground up without any guidance. Weekly progress reports force people to think about the overall picture of their work regularly, something that's easy to avoid in the tedium of long, ongoing experiments. However, such progress reports become less useful if they require a lot of work as well as polished figures (I have a  friend who spends ~4 hours/wk preparing his progress reports, which seems excessive). The very 'hands-on' supervisor is arguably the worst in my experience, as they're rarely as 'up' on the details of techniques and background materials leading to many unreasonable requests based on misunderstanding.

For all of the differences between managing a business team and an academic lab, there are also a lot of parallels as well. Things like maintaining employee morale, how to deliver criticism, how to plan and manage long-term projects, and how to sell ideas in general, among other concepts, are certainly universal. Some people obviously have the knack for these types of things, but others clearly do not. Yet there's a certain hubris among academics in thinking that it is not a worthwhile exercise to have such skills taught. This is all the more odd given the general emphasis that academics place on education.

I don't think that it's a waste of time for me to ponder these issues given that I would like to have a lab of my own some day. Assuming that this comes to pass, where will I learn these techniques? There's a certain sad logic in the argument that one 'learns' to be a PI over the course of their grad-school and postdoc experiences. Though somewhat better than 'the blind leading the blind' (students of good PIs may learn good management skills) it's all too likely that poor skills will be passed on as well. I wonder if it would be practical to organize 'management seminars' or brief classes for new PIs (as well as refresher sessions for longer term employees)? Time and finances are likely stretched too thin as it is, but it's something to think about. 

1Actually, I think that the first such shock that I received was when, during my undergrad, I found out that professors don't actually have to learn how to teach, either. I don't know which one worries me more now. 

2Tangent here: The greatest benefit of this job is that it unequivocally established the value of my M.Sc. After I accepted the position, the big boss looked down at my resume and said 'Oh, I see you have a Masters degree. We can bump you up by $2/hr!' Thus, it would take me something like 4-5,000 hours of work to see a return on investment on my M.Sc. Ungh.   

Physical Media...

As a kid growing up, I think that I was always a bit of a 'collector'. I liked to have my books, CDs, DVDs, etc., displayed on shelves, and in pristine condition1. Also, particularly when it comes to DVDs, I used to put considerable effort into picking up films that I thought should be in my collection, which was no small feat for a poor student. This mild obsession with collecting things also made me somewhat dismissive of digital versions of media - I mean, what was an album without liner notes, after all? And what was the point of a book that couldn't go onto your bookshelf upon completion?

This strange animosity towards digital media lasted until fairly recently when I switched completely (well not completely, I guess I got a bit of a start when I bought a Kindle). Honestly it's quite strange - it's as if one morning I woke up and seriously asked myself: What's the point of carting around all of this stuff? Obviously, I'm soon going to be moving 3,000 miles away, but even ignoring that, I'm never going to watch 90% of these movies ever again. Nor will I be rereading most of these books!2 It's as if the mere presence of 'consumed' media used to bring me personal satisfaction.

All of a sudden, CDs and DVDs seem incredibly 'quaint'. If I could replace every CD I had with an MP3 version of the album, I would just to get rid of my binder of CDs (I realize that I can 'rip' them, but I must legally retain the CDs). I'd like to trash every DVD that's available on Netflix instant streaming, and so on. Somewhat shockingly, after all of these years of lugging my DVD collection around North America, I actually ditched every single plastic and/or paper case that I owned (including collector's editions and the like, and put them all in a binder as well. Good riddance!

The times they are a-changing, and so are we, obviously. I think that some part of me has wanted to own 'stuff' just so that I can feel like I've left the 'student lifestyle' in which I was immersed for a decade. But as I get older, perhaps the nature of that 'stuff' is changing - I have been buying a startling number of clothes lately. We'll have to see what I latch onto next, I guess. Hopefully it won't be something else that's annoying to lug around!

P.S., I did keep the cases for the 10 or so blu-rays that I own. Old habits die hard, I suppose :-)  

1My obssession with keeping my books in perfect condition was somewhat legendary. But as long as it didn't negatively affect my life or that of others, I was told that this was simply an 'eccentricity'. 

2I do regularly go back to many of my science books (popular and professional) for references and quotations, so those are certainly worth keeping.

Advice to Future Postdocs...

If there's one thing that we fail to do in science, it's give people any real indication of what's involved in their 'next step' in the field. When I was an undergrad signing up to do an 'honours'1 major, I had no idea what an honours project actually entailed. While I had to declare my major during my second year (or 'sophomore' as they say here), it wasn't until the end of my third that we had a meeting to explain the project. Similarly, I had no idea what being a grad student was like before I began doing my M.Sc. During my Ph.D., the impression I got of postdoc-ing was something along the lines of: 'Work like crazy until you become eccentric if not insane'. Thankfully, while postdoc-ing is certainly a lot of work, for most people, it's not quite that bad.

Anyways, whether you're going to grad school or a postdoc, chances are that you'll be applying at multiple locations, possibly going for several interviews. One thing to keep in mind is that these aren't like the job interviews that we've all become accustomed to during our high-school years and summer breaks. Starting with grad school, but especially in the case of a postdoc, these interviews should be much more reciprocal: The lab needs to determine whether you're a good candidate while you need to determine whether the lab will be an appropriate fit for your objectives. So here's a few pointers that I've gleaned both in my experiences going on interviews, but also being involved in interviewing candidates.

1. Know what the prospective lab does.

I'm sure that this strikes most people as obvious, but you'd be surprised. You need to go back and read the last few years worth of papers that came out of the lab and be ready to discuss their contents with your prospective PI. This takes time and work and it's why I disagree with people who send out blanket applications to a bunch of labs. Obviously you want to go to a lab that will allow you to pursue your own interests and it's probably best to restrict your applications to those labs that actually interest you. Finally, it's also helps to cater your talk (yes, you'll have to give a talk) to the group's interests; however, always put sufficient background into the presentation such that it could appeal to anyone.

2. Know your stuff.

A postdoc should be an independent researcher. You shouldn't need someone to tell you what to do next, or how to design a research project - you should've learned this during your Ph.D. When you show up at a lab, you should have ideas about projects that you could carry out in that group (even if you're applying for a position with a pre-determined project). Even if you haven't defended your Ph.D. yet, you should treat the time that you're interviewing as a defense of sorts: You need to know your current project inside-out because people are going to ask you questions about it. I've never been to, or been involved in an interview where I or the candidate was not asked 'what could you see yourself doing in my lab?' I wouldn't answer that with 'I don't know' or 'I'll think about it'.

3. Ask 'tough' questions and pay attention to what people say.

Here's where that reciprocal interview aspect comes in: You want to know what it's like working in this lab. Take it from someone whose seen several different 'lab management styles': the way that things are run can vary wildly and you may be more comfortable with certain styles. You want to ask many questions of both the PI and the lab members - preferably each alone and in a group. There are the basics: You'll want to know how the lab's doing in terms of funding: will you be able to carry out the projects you want to do? What about conferences: does the PI send postdocs to a yearly meeting? How about manuscripts: does the PI allow their students/postdocs to write their own papers? Does the PI have any particular view on publications in general? (we all want Nature papers, but if you won't be allowed to publish any manuscript that doesn't go to an impact factor 15+ journal, that may be a problem2). Have postdocs in the lab generally gone on to successful careers? If so, what have they done (academia, industry, left science altogether, etc.)? What about projects? Does everyone in the lab get their own, independent project or are you going to be competing for the same prize?

The above are all of the kinds of things that you can ask both the PI and the lab members, but there are a series of questions that you should reserve for lab members themselves. Things like: What's it like to work in this lab? Does the PI expect you to work 14 hours a day? Is the PI respectful and do people feel as though they're able to voice concerns about projects based on their expertise? How's the lab dynamic? Do people get along and work together? How about the department? Are there a lot of collaborations going on between labs? Are there people for you to talk to about your work in terms of 'outside knowlege' (e.g., statistics or computational help? What about living in the area? Is it nice, are there things to do, areas to avoid, etc.?

Pay attention to both what people say and what they don't say. Are people being cagey about their comments or dancing around issues? Are some people in the process of leaving, and if so why? Are you meeting with everyone in the lab or only a subset? If the latter, why? Are there people that the PI doesn't want you to talk to? It's a much better sign when the PI wants you to meet and talk to everyone rather than a set number of folks.

At the end of the day, you need to take all of the answers that you get and weigh the pros and cons. There are always going to be issues - no environment is perfect and the nicest, best PI in the world is occasionally going to have disagreements with some lab members. People saying this or that particular negative thing should be taken in context: Ask yourself if it's going to be a problem in terms of your potential experiences in the lab. I think that a lot of people assume that the purpose of these interviews is 'all business' and that they should stick to questions about the science itself. Remember though that you actually have to live there: will doing the best project that you can imagine in a lab where people don't get along and in a place where there's nothing to do be okay for you? For some very particular, focused, and motivated people, that's fine. I doubt that it's the norm, however.

4. Think about what you want to accomplish during your postdoc. 

To me, one of the most frustrating aspects of post-secondary education is the the strange 'next-logical step' attitude that many people take. Fine, you're going to college because everyone else is, but doing a master's degree because you don't know what you want to do is kind of overkill isn't it? Surprisingly, some folks seem to make it all the way up the ranks to a postdoc using this same sort of logic. To be clear: I'm not talking about people who are wondering whether they should be pursuing a career in academia vs. one in industry: that's typical of anyone at the professional level, and with a few exceptions, your postdoc will probably contribute positively to your job prospects3.

I don't think that anyone should be doing a graduate degree unless they really like what they're doing. I've had a surprising number of direct interactions with people who were in grad school 'while they decided what to do next', and it was a major drag. Unfortunately, a lab is like an organism unto itself - there's a lot of shared tasks, exchanges of ideas, and co-worker support involved. When one someone's not picking up the slack, it can make things very difficult.

In my experience in academic labs, the postdocs are typically the hardest workers, and the ones that grad students turn to when they have questions. Being more independent means more responsibility, so think about this before you sign on to a contract.

In terms of what you want to accomplish, the advice that I've received is that you should use your postdoc to build the kind of research portfolio that you will be able to translate into the kind of research that you're going to want to do in your own lab. You don't want to spend all of your time doing random busywork, or working on unrelated projects just to get your name on papers. Are you going to be able to carry out the kind of project that will get you recognition such that fellow scientists think of you when they think of your field? That's quite daunting to contemplate, I know, but I suppose that that's the sort of thing that you have to think of at this point.

So there you go, a few ideas that I hope will serve someone well when they go out there and take the next step for themselves. Do the background work to know exactly where you're going and ask the right questions. If your lucky, you'll be in a situation where the difficulty in your choice involves deciding between which awesome lab you want to go to! If anyone has any other pieces of advice (or comments on mine) feel free to leave comments and I'll add them to the post.

1I have a policy of using American spelling for everything that I write. This is entirely for practical purposes: American scientific journals often require American spelling, while non-US publishers accept American or British. However, in this case, the major was done in Canada, so British spelling it is!

2As crazy as this may sound to some people (especially if you come from a basic biology lab like me) this happens. I know of multiple cases, so these are the kinds of things that you want to find out about.

3The 'exceptions' would be situations such as one that a friend described to me: Having done a long postdoc makes you 'more experienced' and thus 'more expensive in terms of hiring' for some industry jobs. Depending on the job, I guess that they may want cheaper, fresh-faced Ph.D.s?

Another Career Move...

Many people have already heard the news, but last week I decided to accept a postdoctoral position in the lab of Hunter B. Fraser at Stanford University in Palo Alto, California beginning in the fall. I'm excited about the work I'll be doing there, and I'm sure that I'll be able to talk about some of it soon (I'm currently in the process of doing a lot of background reading and writing down ideas).

And so, yet again I find myself preparing for a long distance move in service to my chosen career. My North-American 'trotting' map now looks like this:

1. Born in Moncton, NB. 2. Halifax, NS, for undergrad. 3. Burnaby/Vancouver, BC, for M.Sc. 4. Hamilton, ON, for Ph.D. 5. Postdoc at NIH, Bethesda, MD. 6. Postdoc at Stanford, Palo Alto, CA.1

My current 'dilemma'2 is deciding between whether to ship my furniture out West or rent a moving van and go on a cross-country trip. Both will be expensive, but I seriously doubt that either would be as expensive as ditching all of my stuff and re-purchasing it over there (between my TV, couches, bed, and kitchen set, I'm easily looking at ~$3,000 and I'd still have to ship a bunch of boxes of stuff anyways). If anyone's had any experience with this kind of stuff, I'm all ears for suggestions!

I have to admit that I'm looking forward to moving back to the West Coast. It probably has a lot to do with the gorgeous weather, but I really enjoyed being in a place where everyone's so active. In my brief time interviewing at Stanford, I walked by no less than 3 separate bike shops, and as far as I can tell, there seem to be bike lanes everywhere for ease of getting around on two wheels.

The other major exciting prospect to this move is the opportunity to return to a place with a concentration of people interested in and working on evolutionary biology. It's no secret that the NIH's focus is on human health related issues, and with the exception of the NCBI, evolutionarily interested people are few and far between. There really is something annoying about having people ask you things like, 'why would you ever want to work on X?' or 'what's the point of doing Y?'. I firmly believe that, as a scientist, you should be ready to justify and defend the value of your work, but if people can't understand the utility of model organisms in the first place there's no real foundation from which to begin your arguments.

Oh well, the move is still a few months away, and I've got plenty of time to wrap things up here and figure out how I'm going to get all of my stuff out West. Looking forward to less heat and more palm trees!

1There is something kind of amazing about the degree of 'mobility' that exists in the modern world. I wonder what an 'average number of cities in which adults have of lived for more than 1 year' stat would look like? I assume that I would be above average by now.

2I put dilemma in quotation marks here because it's one of those words that people constantly use incorrectly. A dilemma involves a situation where someone has to chose between two disfavorable choices. Being uncertain about whether to drink with your friends, or go to a concert is (typically) not a dilemma.

The 'New' Media...

I have this odd tradition in that, whenever I'm flying, I read The Economist. I say that it's odd because I'd actually love to read the magazine weekly, but a) the subscription fee tends to be on the high side and b) I barely read through the couple of monthly mags that I now receive, let alone being able to find the time to digest a weekly.

My primary draw to the magazine, of all things, is the quality of its writing rather than the depth of its content (which I also enjoy, incidentally). As a scientist, I'm required to write quite a bit: obviously for publication, but also regularly in the form of professional emails and documents. As I and other more esteemed professional writers have long advocated, good writing comes both from practice1 and from comprehensive reading. Reading good writing begets improved ideas about proper style in one's one work.

It's interesting then that the current issue of The Economist (9-15 July 2011) has a special section about the future of journalism. Unless you've been living under a rock for the past couple of decades2, you're probably aware that the rapid growth of the internet in the West has put a massive squeeze on the circulation and revenues of print publications (interestingly, newspaper 'circ' numbers continue to rise in Asia). Honestly, it's difficult to compete: the net is a) 'free', b) fast, c) searchable, and d) global. Of course there's been talk of monetizing specific popular newspapers by placing them behind 'pay-walls', but I can't imagine how that will be successful in the long term.

To think that media on the net is simply a digital form of what was in print is a mistake, however. A large part of the very recent explosion of internet activity has come from participatory media (or Web 2.0 as people used to refer to it). This takes the form of both direct dispatches from 'the front' on sites like Twitter and Facebook (and what the hell, I'll add Google+), but also the ability to comment on particular news items and engage in discussions as the news is happening. As the article in The Economist notes, this 'democratizing' of the news is an obvious benefit to any liberal (small 'l' here for my fellow Canadians).

The author's discussion of the subject, however, notes 2 drawbacks to this new form of media: Firstly, that 'bloggers' and 'crowdsourced' journalism are difficult to hold accountable in the wake of allegations of corruption, libel, or crime. It's difficult to know who is legitimate (this also applies to traditional new outlets as well, obviously). Secondly, despite the breadth in available content, people tend to only seek out that content which echoes back their own beliefs. Internet news, they content, allows for a much deeper partisanship than a local newspaper that has to try to sell to everyone and thus be more balanced in its reporting (however, as the authors themselves note, there's a move towards strong partisanship in traditional American media as well).

I'd like to add a third drawback: The quality of online writing tends to suck... bad. The effort to capture the immediacy of current events without the ability to digest all of the information leads to a lot of poorly written, desperately-in-need-of-editing, garbage. This doesn't only apply to news - I've noticed the same trends on tech and enthusisast websites as well. I'm concerned that a generation of people who've only received their information from online sources won't even be able to recognize and appreciate what a well-written piece of work can do for overall comprehension of the particular subject matter.

Oh well. Some would argue that if that's what the market wants, who are we to criticize what it gets? Hopefully The Economist will never be written by the kind of people who write for Gawker media.   


1The primary reason to have such a blog as far as I'm concerned.

2Note to self: Tired cliche. (See what I mean!?)