Honest Conversations

After a good conversation with some friends, I’m realizing how hard it is for folks to face reality, particularly when reality doesn’t represent our goals. Whether it’s being perpetually in debt, on yet another crash-diet, or with a partner that’s no good, sometimes the rational thing is not what we want to see and accept. So, we lie to ourselves. We avoid. We do everything we can to not face reality. This, we think, will somehow change things.

It doesn’t.

As an academic advisor, mid-semester is one of the hardest times in my job. Yes, grades are issued at the end of the semester, but at that point, reality is staring you right in the face as an unarguable known. At midsemester, when grades are still in the making, there can often be false hope or avoidance mentalities that are hard to break for students.

If I can get them into my office, the conversation revolves around the idea of ‘salvaging’ the semester and one’s GPA (and maybe too, one’s pride). Sometimes it is wisest to drop a course, switch it to pass-fail, or reassess the work you’re putting into courses and redirect your efforts. It’s fruitful to calculate out where you actually stand and admit, “Hey, it’s mathematically impossible for me to make X grade”, or “Ok, in order to get a 90%, I have to get a 98% on the rest of my assignments, and I’m averaging a 72 now…”. This sobering experience is difficult, but freeing. If the student can use this as a learning opportunity, then it’s a win for them ultimately, and hopefully they have a smidgeon more grit moving forward.

However, one thing that doesn’t get enough attention is coaching students through having conversations with their loved ones. For many students, particularly first-years, their families and friends back home have only known them as good students. To an extent, it’s how students have formed their identities (This is flawed, but I’ll deal with this in another post). So, to need to drop a course, or to refuse to drop and be on track to fail, is seemingly absurd. Others need help. I don’t. Others fail. I don’t. No way I could be in trouble…

For students not facing reality, ignorance is (momentary) bliss, and at the end of the semester, reality hits with a hard smack. The schedules they signed up for need changing, their scholarships are potentially in danger, and their egos tend to be pretty bruised. Families and friends tend to find out around this time, and for those celebrating holidays or otherwise enjoying a break, there are clouds overhead. This is learning the hard way.

Learning the (easier) way is to come to reality at midsemester, and make a plan. This plan can include dropping a course, in addition to different study strategies, etc. BUT it also should include looping your family into what’s going on. It’s the students’ choice, of course, but if they talk to their parents regularly, lying for the remainder of the semester until the truth comes out erodes trust, and frankly, doesn’t show maturity. This is is partly why I advocate students– from the beginning of college– make these decisions on their own; this means they don’t have to feel as if ‘getting permission’ is necessary to make the educational choices that are best for them as a young adult. They fully own their successes and failures, and they can choose what to share.

However, the reality of the day is ever-more involved parents and with the cost of college, students’ semesters often represent a large financial investment for their parents. FERPA aside, students are looping in their parents to all kind of details, and this relationship should be leveraged. If not, parents can unknowingly cause distress in students by perpetuating the idea that only ‘dumb’ students drop, need tutoring, or get less than an A. These things are, of course, untrue. However, for a student sensitive to these ideas due to ongoing academic issues and hidden failures, false ideas linking academic performance to value/intelligence can drive further panic.

So, students, here’s what can you do:

  1. Break the association between good/loving/helpful/<insert positive quality here> person = good grades. A person’s value is far more than their grades. 
  2. Make a policy to honestly state your performance, or that you won’t answer questions about it. Either be truthful and forthcoming or choose not to discuss it. Partial truths don’t really serve you and can lead you to making ‘dumb’ decisions in the long-run to save face in the short-run.
  3. Do the best you can by using the campus and course resources available to you. Try them out a few times and see what works for you, even if you are doing relatively well. You can always cut back as you need more time or your goals change, and on occasion, as an added bonus, you can become a paid tutor through these resources (Network!).
  4. Calculate your grades yourself. Don’t rely on the course management system or grades to be uploaded. Ignoring that these systems make mistakes, the act of calculating your grade yourself can help you to see where you are goofing up.
  5. Visit your professors and advisors with the facts in hand, and play the big-picture with them. Individual course points are such small things, but setting yourself up to stay scholarship-eligible or get a coveted internship are bigger. Play ‘chess’, and don’t be afraid to lose pawns if it means checkmating.

And families and friends, here’s what you can do:

  1. Break the association between good/loving/helpful/<insert positive quality here> person = good grades. A person’s value is far more than their grades. 
  2. Focus on what your student is learning. The grades are secondary, and the grades won’t necessarily help the student figure out what they want to do with their life. Pay attention to the courses that are interesting and exciting to the student, and encourage growth here.
  3. If you must ask about grades, don’t pretend you know how things will be calculated. Unless you have read the syllabus, crunched the numbers, etc., you’re not helping by saying things that act as if “curves are guaranteed”, or “the average can’t have been failing”, etc. Admit the limits of your knowledge, and hear what the student is saying. If you think they are making a real mistake in assessing their performance, have them go talk to someone who *does* know, like the course professor. Comforting them by perpetuating bad info can delay their personal growth. Don’t be that person.
  4. Encourage your student to be proactive about issues. Humans tend to avoid/procrastinate on difficult things, and time is ticking in a semester. It’s a lot easier to fix things early in the semester when many more options exist than when doors begin to shut.
  5. If failure happens, focus on the positive. Seriously. Do not rub it in someone’s face, or say things like, “Well, now that you can’t ever get a 4.0…”. Think before you speak, and think about the other courses the student might have done well in. Or, if they’re a first year, celebrate the idea that the student officially finished a semester of college (a huge privilege!) or figured out living on their own. There is growth even when we don’t achieve in all of our goals.

What else would you add/amend? Please let me know!



In light of a recent discussion and this article on women in science, I thought I’d share an odd personal experience the illustrates the power of words. The tldr; one little comment seriously impacted me, and how upsetting it is now to realize it.

So, on to the personal anecdote: I recently received a message from an ex-boyfriend from high school. This guy’s got a good career and is pretty well off now (good for him and his wife!), and he just wanted to commiserate about how “people like us shouldn’t make it”, and yet we did.

We had a nice little chat about how important opportunities are, and what we hope to offer others in the future. He shared about how he regularly encounters and deals with imposter syndrome, and how triggering seems to happen when his peers talk socially, e.g. whenever they use ‘summer’ as a verb (You know, as in, “Where do you summer?’ or “Which of your summer homes is your favorite?”). We talked about how lucky we were to be in a magnet program and to have parents who cared about our education, even though they couldn’t afford a lot. The conversation ended with us trading respect and compliments of the other’s achievements, and that was that.

Reflecting over the conversation later that day, especially how nice it was for someone who knew my hardships to acknowledge my work, I couldn’t help but think about one comment he made nearly 15 years ago. Yes, teens remember things.

In a conversation about college, my ex said he was thinking about Georgia Tech. I said something along the lines of “It’d be great to go there together,” and he replied, “Oh honey, the math’s probably too hard for you”. When I asked why he thought that, he casually said, “Well, I mean, just look. Girls don’t go there.” Cue disappointment.

Looking back, some events followed: That year was the first year I made a B in math. I decided to track myself out of the AP calculus courses. All of this after being so bored in math a year or so prior that I pierced my own ears in the back of the class. (Yes, crazy).

Eventually, we broke up, as nearly all high school romances do. I went on to college at Georgia Tech (where, yep, math was hard but so was everything), completed grad school, and am now back on faculty, ironically, at Georgia Tech. Yet, I still fight the harbored idea that the math is beyond me. I have data to show it isn’t (heck, I passed, didn’t I?), but those words stuck. No wonder it is so hard to get people to believe data; when something is ingrained, it is hard to shake! And how much worse is it when a loved one says it, versus a complete stranger?

I prided myself for a bit in being unaware (read: blissfully ignorant) of biases, and the few times that something blatant happened, I shut it down. I’m now realizing how naive that line of thought was. Just how many things influenced me without fully registering, and how might I cause unintentional harm with what I say, especially to those I care about?

Embarrassingly, as I learn about the effect of biases such as this, I have to acknowledge that the words of an innocent, but ignorant teen boy almost derailed me from a career in science. It disheartening to think of all that wouldn’t have been, had I not challenged his idea and refused to fully internalize it. And wild enough, this guy is praising what I’ve done, and probably has no idea that his own words over a decade ago almost knocked me totally off-course.

Since this conversation, I’ve been reading a bit more on growth vs. fixed mindsets and how they hamper girls in particular (see here for a good intro). I’ve been able to piece together what might have kept me on track, but I’m by no means finished learning about this, especially as I move into a more mentoring role. Please do share your findings, readings, personal stories, etc. I want these ideas of not being good enough, as defined by someone else, to simply be ex-thoughts.

Lead a horse to water…

But you can’t make them drink. Or, why grades are not enough.

I’ve been teaching heavily the last month or so and been rather disparaged at the focus on grades and things ‘for points’. It seems as though a chunk of students (and a rather large one, I might add) might do anything I said if I simply attached the words ‘worth X points’. Although the maniacal part of me wants to cackle and see how far this might go, all other parts of me react with pretty strong disgust. Are points really enough? Do they cloud creative and practical thinking? Do they hurt, rather than help, students to master material?

Now, to be clear, I think feedback (early and often!) is a good thing. I just don’t know if needing to attach point values is a good practice. This semester alone, as an advisor, I’ve dealt with at least two issues of students breaking down about their self-worth because of their grades. It never occurred to them that they could be measured by other means, or that the act of measuring up in grades isn’t necessary to be ‘enough’ as a person.

That’s the negative side for low-earners: to internalize they are low-grade, instead of that they got a low-grade. The focus isn’t on improvement. If the goal is to help students understand where their understanding needs refinement, grades aren’t functioning as intended there. But what about the high earners? Do they really ‘get’ grades, or just get graded?

For the high earners, I fear that grades give them an over-inflated sense of what they understand and to what depth. This is especially dangerous for those preparing for cumulative exams, where a misreading of one’s scores from past exams can derail even the most promising student. Worse yet, it can make a student think narrowly, rather than in ways that benefit them most in the long term.


In trying to prepare students for their final exam, I recently held a class session where the students could write exam questions based on the learning objectives for each lesson of the course. I worked ahead to make sure the next and final 5 lessons were complete; this meant they’d have the learning objectives for those sections and the ability to write questions for the entire content of the course. I created a shared document for these students to put their questions into, along with a template that asked for the lesson the question came from, which objective it addressed, and the general topic. Since the class is about double the number of students as there were lessons, they could choose to work in pairs or individually and cover the content of the entire course.

I started the class and pointed out to them that they could and should work together on this shared document of questions. Since they only had that class period, whatever they came up with in that time could be eventual questions on the exam, so sharing with one another and dividing up the work would be the best way to ensure mutual success amongst the group.

So what’d they do? Not work together, that’s for sure. Rather than devise a way to best help one-another (and themselves!), they each acted as if silos had been built. Most wrote 1-2 questions (a few wrote a couple more), but they almost all overlapped in content, leaving large chunks of the course untouched. Unfortunately for the students, this now leaves lots for each of them to go back and review individually for the cumulative final. That’s lots of hours to spend instead of putting their heads together for 50 minutes.

So what gives? These are really smart students. Why do they do the suboptimal? Well, devising a plan requires thought and stepping back, and my hypothesis is that taking those few moments to think a problem through are the critical steps students tend to skip in point-based thinking. Those steps aren’t directly rewarded in the same way. For example, you write a question, and if you’re hopeful, you’re assuming your question will be chosen and you’ll instantly get 3 points. Those seem more tangible than the class set of questions which you contribute to, but which could, by the end of 50 minutes, amount to over 30 points, and at the very least, far less study time if they can be used as a study aid.

In looking over the questions which were written, admittedly a bit disparaged from what I’d witnessed, I was happy to see that there were indeed at least a few good questions which got to the meat of the material without being needlessly detailed. In looking the questions over more, I noticed an interesting pattern: the students who had done the best job of working together and splitting up questions weren’t my high-performers/A-students, but those students on target for B’s/C’s. Since the activity wasn’t worth points, these students weren’t just looking for a boost; rather, it seems as though they ‘got’ what the activity meant broadly and didn’t just try mindless plugging-and-chugging to complete the task.

Who knows ultimately how these students grades will turn out. And honestly, what do grades really mean if the students can master the course material, but can’t think broadly enough to apply it in ways that solve real problems? Grades aren’t enough. Or perhaps our ways of measuring growth in thinking outside of just the material aren’t enough. We need more ways to push students to work smarter, rather than just harder, and to do so in ways that are healthy. Grades aren’t a measure of you as a person, but they should be a better reflection of how you as a person holistically think.

Yes, I know this is another teacher lament, and yes, there are data to get at some of these issues. But there also needs to be systemic change so that we’re not simply training students to perform doggie tricks, but really to see and solve problems in ways that aren’t necessarily always the easiest.

I’m willing to put in that work and try new methods for the collective good. I bet you are, too. Let’s go to work.


Mid-semester woes: That *first* bad grade

In my new role at Georgia Tech, I am responsible for advising about 1/4 of our biology majors, of which a large chunk are transfer or first-year students. We’re now about halfway through their first semester at Tech, and they’ve just received mid-semester evaluations. These evaluations are used as a ‘warning flag’ of sorts for students who need to improve their performance in a course. Basically, if you score ‘satisfactory’, you’re on the right track (passing with a decent grade); if you score ‘unsatisfactory’, well… your grade outlook isn’t favorable.

For many students, particularly those who are thinking about pre-health and graduate careers, to receive anything other than an A is a real shock. It is especially disturbing the first time this happens. Getting a less-than-stellar grade isn’t just an academic problem for many students; it strikes at the core of their identity. So what can we do to help coach students through this? How can we help them develop resilience and learn from missteps?

  1. Remind students: Your grades are important, but they don’t define you. Your transcript is not your identity. Remind students of past successes in different parts of their life, and help them to feel that they ‘belong’ on campus. Often, first-timers experiencing issues take a bad grade as a sign that they don’t belong in their major or in college, rather than limiting the bad grade as simply an evaluation of inadequate performance in a course.  Help them to see the scope of the issue.
  2. Additionally, make clear: past grades don’t necessarily predict future grades. If students are not doing well in a course, it is possible (sometimes admittedly to a greater or lesser degree) to improve skills, even if the grades don’t ultimately reflect what you’ve gained. Situations are in their control, and they have the power to make decisions that affect outcomes.
  3. Focus on the problem: Ok, so something didn’t work out. What are you going to do? There are lots of ways to solve this problem that each have their pros and cons. Help students weigh their options and practice making tough, but necessary, decisions
  4. Keep conversations realistic, but positive. Sugar-coating doesn’t help students clearly see and deal with the nature of the issue, but neither does berating past mistakes. Have students assess what they’ve been doing that has/hasn’t been working, and make a plan to move forward.
  5. Refer students who might need additional help. In your conversations with students, it may become clear that certain resources would help the student weather the crisis. Don’t be afraid to mention the academic, counseling, and/or disability services on campus that the student could consult (as appropriate).
  6. Keep in mind: your students are unique, but they may struggle in similar ways. If you’ve developed a relationship with a student who has undergone (or is currently undergoing) a similar struggle (or overcome it), ask if students would like to be connected to one-another. Accountabil-a-buddies and peer mentors can do a lot to help a student’s self-esteem when slogging through the hard times.
  7. Support your students as they enact their plans by checking in. Ask how it’s going, and if necessary, offer further guidance to correct and/or amend trajectories.

What would you suggest? Any tips or tricks to share? Let me know and I’ll add them here.


After a long wait, our How-To article on #SciStuChat is finally out! You can read it here: http://abt.ucpress.edu/content/78/7/599

So what’s #SciStuChat? Read the paper.

Just kidding. You should read it, but the tldr; is that it is a monthly chat where students in science classes across the nation and the globe interact with scientists via Twitter.

You can read more about #SciStuChat and get updates here: http://www.scistuchat.com/

So, some of you might be thinking, “That’s nice. Moving on.” But maybe you should be asking: Why as a scientist should I use Twitter to interact with high schoolers? What do I get out of it?

Well, here are my top 5 reasons for engaging particularly with HS students using Twitter:

  1. Communication: Scientists often stink at communicating their and others’ work succinctly. A once-a-month session ensures a bit of practice to work on communication. Being confined to just 140 characters forces you to keep things short and let go of those important (but sometimes non-expert-confusing) caveats.
  2. Easy, big impact: Outreach unfortunately is often confined to where we’re already working (i.e. near lab or field sites), so we miss classrooms geographically. Also, because time is limited, we can’t go to visit every classroom even within a 2-hour radius. There’s just not enough time in the curriculum or personal schedules to guarantee quality interaction. By using a digital medium, it is super easy to reach lots of students at once in many places. In one hour, you can virtually reach tens of classrooms that are signed in and wanting to talk to you. There isn’t a lot of set up, and typically the chats occur outside of the normal workday, so if you can spare an hour one evening, you’ve made a big impact, without even having to leave your house!
  3. Guided- and extended- conversations: Students often have misconceptions that scientists aren’t people, too. By participating in guided conversations through Twitter chats, you can humanize scientists by having an organic discussion about a topic, as opposed to a drier, prepped activity. Students can get to know a bit more about your personality and what gets you excited about science, and if they want, follow your twitter handle to learn more science once the ‘official’ interaction has ended.
  4. Diversify the faces of scientists: Science is more diverse than the representation it gets in the media. Although we’ve still got a very long way to go, we shouldn’t undersell the various forms of diversity that there are today (And keep in mind, there are many ways to demonstrate uniqueness beyond more ‘traditional’ demographic categories).
  5. Scaling for level: What students are learning in the classroom today is more advanced than when many of us had as high schoolers. And whether we like to admit it or not, for many people, their last exposure to science was back in high school. So, interacting with high schoolers and engaging in content can give you a bit of a ‘reality check’ on what is common scientific knowledge. Furthermore, it can help to show what reasoning these students (and likely, their families) are using when they encounter new scientific information. Sometimes we forget how specialized we have become; it’s important to break out of the expert bubble and talk to others. There is value in this interaction for everyone!

So these are my top 5? Do you have another that didn’t make my list? Please share!




ROADTRIP! Or, Closing Out Summer Field Season

This summer’s research adventures took us from Atlanta north. Most recently, we completed an 18-hour road trip (one-way!) to collect various bluebird and tree swallow nests. We survey and collect from hundreds of nests to find just a few parasites on which to do our work. It’s lots of effort, sure, but we’ve had great help from collaborators, and it does pay off!

This latest trip, we were able to collect nests from several places, including Ganondagan State Historic Site, Mt. Hope Cemetery, and a few of Cornell’s bird research sites. On our collection adventure, in addition to some very helpful scientists, engineers, and hobbyists, those we ran into at gas stations, fast food joints, and about town were super curious as to what we were actually doing.

So, here’s what it looks like:

Boxes (like the one I’m opening in the photo below) are where our birds nest. These boxes near open fields make great nesting spaces for birds like bluebirds and tree swallows.

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Depending on the age of the nestlings in the nest, we have two options: if they’ve fledged, great. We just pack up the contents of a box into a gallon ziplock. If the birds are old enough to have parasites, but not at risk of fledging too early, it’s a different story;  typically our bird collaborator will hold and monitor the birds while we scrape out what bugs have fallen through the bottom of the nest.

Once we get back to a space to process the nest, the fun begins! And by fun, I mean a bit of icky tedium, but… such is life. This is where we sort through all of the contents of the nest/scrapings to look for our bugs….Our bugs hidden amongst a lot of other squirmy bugs, dead things, and bird poop. Oh, the poop!

The nest I have photographed below came from one of the Cornell boxes of some birds that recently fledged. This is the nicest you’ll see one of these, not just because of the relatively low amount of extra debris and poop, but also because we could take a whole cardboard insert from the nest box and recover everything.

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Most of the time, it looks more like what’s scattered on the sheet of paper below: Lots of debris and poop to filter through once the straw-like parts of the nest are removed. This is actually generally a good thing, as more poop (and debris caught in poop) typically means the nestlings were more numerous and/or lived longer, so there tend to be more parasites.

EDIT: People wanted to know what it smells like. It’s actually not that bad. The poop doesn’t smell like dog/human poop (or really at all), so the nests smell more like bales of hay.

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So, we sort and collect our parasites, and rebag the rest (sometimes for collaborators, but mostly just to keep the bugs from spreading). We process just one nest at a time, so we can track where the bugs came from, how many we found, how old they are, etc. So, we just repeat this nest sorting…MANY times (hence my face after a long day stretching into the night). Don’t let my face fool you, though: it’s worth it in the end for  all of the cool stuff you see, and it’s how I can honestly call this field work an adventure (instead of a nightmare)!

We’ll run genetic tests back in the lab, so we have to travel with the samples kept cool or in preservative chemicals. So, once we’re done sorting and packing it all away, we make the trek home with our little squirmy friends to learn a bit more about them!

Meat Camp!

Summer field season is upon us, and our first stop: Meat Camp!

As strange as it sounds, this isn’t a summer camp of sorts, but rather the small North Carolina town where some adorable young bluebirds, and their tiny parasites, can be found.

Above and to the left, you can see a nest box with baby birds cozy in their nest. And on the right, a few baby bluebirds in hand ( about ~12-14 days), one with a tiny brown-red parasite along its leg (look just to the right of the ring finger on the hand holding the chicks).

That tiny brown parasite will feed on the blood of the baby bluebird until the bird is about ready to fledge. At that point, the parasite pops off the bird, falls down into the nest, and continues its development.

Like many insects, they’ll go through a bunch of stages, from worm-like, to pill-like, to an eventual adult. And if they’re female, they’ll grow up to look for a new bluebird nest in which to raise their parasitic young.

This summer, we’ll be working in several locations, from Georgia, to North Carolina, to New York, to figure out just where these parasites like to hang out and what makes them ‘tick’ (see what I did there? 😉 ). Stay tuned for more!

Getting Science Journalists to Write About Your Work

Recently, a colleague publicly lamented via an ecology mailing list the lack of science journalists writing about his work. Although the colleague, post-response, seemed to just want camaraderie vs. solutions, I felt it useful to others to post my response to him here, along with supplemental advice (in italics) suggested by Dr. Jorge Santiago-Blay:

The market right now isn’t that great for Science Writers professionally, so they can be few and far between, and obviously, they’re overworked (just like us!). The National Association of Science Writers and Eurekalert can be good avenues to get others to start writing about your work. Because of time constraints, science journalists usually don’t have a lot of time to search for your work, or wait on responses, so a good thing to do is to follow these guidelines:
1. Put up press releases or contact with emails that are already written for a lay audience. This means starting with why people should care/what makes this cool. Be sure to include your preferred contact info; they may use part of this for quotes and want to contact you for a follow-up.
2. Don’t firehose everyone by putting up/contacting a journalist about everything, even the little stuff. Make sure you’ve got a good story and the ‘right’ to tell it (check with your publisher about embargo dates, etc.). Otherwise, you risk overselling/breaching agreements/being ignored after a bit.
3. When a journalist contacts you, get back to them quickly. Their deadlines are tight, so respect that. If someone calls, you can take 5-10 min to compose yourself and get ideas together, but don’t wait too long. If you get back to them quicker, it does 2 things: 1) helps you gain a bit more control about how the pitch of the story will go, and 2) it encourages them to contact you again if they need to (for this work) or in the future (for new stuff/outside opinions on the work of others).
On point # 3a, so true re. due dates. Once I was contacted by one of them and it could have given me huge publicity. Yet, I could not do it their time. Instead, I suggested another. I did not suspect (then) that they may be operating under due date pressure. Btw, ditto with some jobs, some employers do not seem to respect their own posted (in ads) due dates.
On point # 3b, re. control. Also so true. Make sure about who is the author, how much control on wording/time of publication, etc. journalists have. These days, requesting to see a prepublication version on what they have written about your (or my) work is considered by some a type of censorship. Then, if they make mistakes or display your work in a fashion you do not like or is inaccurate, one has to invest time fixing things… 
4. Make your work ‘timely’! If there is something in current events or a major holiday/season/sporting event coming up that it relates to, this will make the ‘sell’ easier. Ex. If you work on acoustic pollution, there’s an angle for talking about a big NASCAR race. If you work in mating, bringing up summer lovin’/spring flings can be good, too. There’s lots of stuff, and you might have to fight a bit of anthropomorphism, but it can work in your favor, too. Be creative here!
5. Write about your work yourself now. If you’ve got a blog or website, go ahead and start writing things there. A journalist who can Google and see you’re able to talk to the public in understandable, interesting terms is more likely to want to work with you. You’re less of an unknown gamble on whether they can quickly glean what they need from you and get a good story out. (Once you’ve got some content, don’t be afraid to email and invite folks to read there)
Overall, to me it is a balance between, on the plus side:
a. Publicity to your (my) work and ourselves
b. Overall generosity to others (that is important to me) by promoting good info
and (on the minus side):
a. Investment: time and energy (as usual)
b. Aggravation of potentially dealing with errors, etc.
Hope this helps, and good luck!

Great Panel, Poor Pocketbooks: Why You Should Write Your Representative

I just returned from one of the most critical, but kind assemblages of experts. What was I doing? I was serving on a National Science Foundation (NSF) Panel where we were deciding what extremely few project pre-proposals would get even a chance at competing for funding with a full proposal.

To be clear: Lots of great science goes on around the US, but we simply don’t have the means to support it (or even the majority of it). Why? Our budget is insufficient.

Here’s where moving+panel experience= inspiration for this post.

I write my representatives pretty often (take that, Millennial-Haters!), and much of my writing is in support of science and education funding, as well as efforts to end discrimination. Because we moved to a new district, some of my representatives have changed. So I went searching…

Cue  https://www.govtrack.us/

Here you can look up your representatives’ contact information, voting record, efficacy, term and re-election dates, etc. You can get updates emailed in digest form, too.  A feature I found that makes me excited about this website is the ability to easily track committee work. In particular, I’m glad my new rep. also happens to serve on the budget committee. I suspect we’ll become quite close 🙂

Please, for what you care about, contact your reps. And if you’re a scientist, fan of science, or patriot, we can’t afford for you not to.


Tightrope Walking in Heels

We’ve just finished hosting a Quantitative Biology Workshop at Spelman to attract our Atlanta-area colleagues and bring a few collaborators in town. In about a week, I’ll be at NSF for a panel. Somehow, I’m also moving in the midst of this…

In trying to have some strategy so that I’ve got everything I need to go to NSF on hand, I’m confronted with a rather mundane, but important, choice: what do I wear?

Since coming to Spelman, I’ve been a bit more conscious of my clothing for a few reasons:

  1. I’m a postdoc now. This means I teach a bit as a primary instructor and am visible around the department. My ratty jeans don’t send good signals, as comfortable as they might be.
  2. I’m younger, and unfortunately, I have been mistaken for a student. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it can be limiting when you actually are an authority on something.
  3. The faculty here tend to be more traditional, so they wear clothing that is a bit more professional. Likewise, the students tend to dress really well, so fitting in means a bit more dressing up.

Seeing faculty across different Atlanta institutions at last week’s conference, I was again reminded that appearance (clothingmakeup) does seem to make a difference in the way people perceive you, particularly for women and minorities. If I’m looking to make a positive impression on new colleagues while at NSF, it seems I need to up my game.

Normally, to pack for a trip, I wouldn’t care about clothing too much, and the pragmatist in me would pack what fits into suitcase, won’t wrinkle, and tolerates weather/AC unknowns. Now, beyond the checks for rips and stains, I’m starting to give what I wear more thought. I’m very much a novice at this, but hooray for help from the internet!

A cursory glance through Google will show a ton of links, with everything from the basic ‘bathe often’ to runway fashion in academia. For me, I think mastery of basic hygiene has occurred (hopefully), and I’ve no desire to be a runway model, so I want to find a good middle ground of ‘functional, fits, and fitting’. I’m trying to adopt this attitude and outsource my shopping through delivery services (shout out to StitchFix and Trunk Club for Women!)  when I can afford it.

This isn’t the first experiment I’ve done with my image. Not many people know this, but I actually did a pilot experiment in my 3rd-4th year of graduate school. It was small (and had no meaningful control, obviously), but I made the choice to not wear t-shirts with text, wear mascara and concealer, and on days I taught, I would always wear a cardigan/blazer, blouse, and dark shoes (lab days I cheated and wore black sneakers vs. boots). On those days, I did get positive responses from others in terms of both the number and quality of interactions. These responses are hard for me to write off as merely confidence-boosting, because I’d say I was actually less confident and more awkward when I wore this stuff. I begrudgingly have to admit these differences in the classroom and general interactions (both on campus and in stores/restaurants) were image-influenced– even if people liked outwardly-awkward me best.

So, I’m packing away boxes and suitcases, keeping in mind that anecdotal experience says I should care how I appear. Nonetheless, sweat pants may make it in the bag. Work-life balance, right?

What tips do you have for being comfortable and professional? How do you cope with ‘appearances’ in academia? Let me know your thoughts!