For me, the question of “what to do after grad school” was like eating an anxiety ramen bowl. Each noodle could have represented a thought: life goal, imposter syndrome, passion, existential crisis, fear, or personal reflection; when pulled upon, the noodles naturally twisted together, ultimately bogging down an obvious career pathway. As a plan-motivated person, untangling and understanding each noodle in an orderly fashion was my initial narrow-sighted approach. But for me at this time, I realized it was best to just assess a few noodle bites at a time, and trust that it would work out. Two things in particular really helped my thought process, one being my graduate research advisor. He thought favorably of graduate students doing internships, and supported my decision to take a summer off from thesis work and intern with a local biotech company (Genentech). This opportunity was extremely useful for me, especially as I had entered graduate school straight from undergraduate schooling. Not only was I able to experience being a Ph.D.-level research scientist for a summer, but I was able to conduct informational interviews with a variety of industrial scientists from a diverse array of backgrounds. Another resource I had was a labmate/friend who, like me, was experiencing the existential crisis of “do I even like what I am doing?” They shared this long, yet 100% worth the read, blog post (spoiler: the author incorporates a colorful “Yearnings Octopus,” which is actually a pentapus). I appreciated the candid writing style, but it was difficult to read at times because I was in a delicate mental state. However, the guided personal analysis was refreshing, and it helped me understand the “career” mindset from a broader perspective. My dad, an avid canoer, told me a good way to orient your boat in a stretch of water is to pick a far off landmark (like a large tree or hill) and paddle/steer towards it. Ironically, this was great guidance for post-grad school as well. My advisor told me to pick a position that I could see myself doing in the future (I was tasked to find an actual title of a job position in a company that I could idealize), and then "orient" myself (skills needed, workflow practice, training, etc) in that direction. With this in mind, I applied to a few biotech companies at first, because I knew I didn't want a career in the traditional academic setting. But, after one interview, I decided that a postdoc in a new/desired research environment would best enable my career development, with the future position in mind. This all being said, I have always found it insightful to hear from others who experienced a similar event. Even though everyone’s experience is unique, I find that perspective from others can help with personal reflection. To this aim, we, the Scholar’s Digest bloggers, want to share our experiences (both longer posts and shorter stories) throughout this "How I found my postdoc" series. Miho, Liwen, and Martina have shared part of their journey here, and we will link subsequent series chapters as they are posted. Best of luck to all those in this decision making process - we hope to add some insight to this journey! --- Miho: I investigated the role of an immune checkpoint molecule in facilitating cancer growth in a lymphoma model for my PhD project. For a postdoc, I wanted to expand my expertise to tackle some of the bottleneck issues limiting the efficacy of cancer immunotherapy. All the labs I interviewed with had their eyes set on one or more of these bottleneck issues, and had really cool experimental systems and resources to address them. I had an overwhelmingly positive interaction with the PI and the lab members of each lab too, so I was excited at the thought of working in each of them, and choosing a lab was the most difficult decision I have made. In the end, I picked my current lab because there was an added excitement that its model system is built on a similar idea that I thought about during my PhD, and it was like a tool I wish had existed magically appeared. Liwen: After conducting theoretical basic science research for a bit, I realized that I wanted to work on clinical research that potentially could be useful in real life cases. I spontaneously entered dementia research, and decided that I would love to explore it further. Regarding my personal experience of job hunting, I have to say, finding positions and finding “the one” share similarities: just the right time, right place, with the right people. Wise advice in general that I got from a senior research advisor was to “stay open, be generous, be positive, and be forgiving.” It took me around 6 months to end up at UCSF, which was partly due to limiting my job search to certain locations. After leaving out the location restriction, things went smoothly, and the job search turned out to be one of my favorite experiences so far. I guess this is a small part of “stay open” -- who knows what will happen! Martina: During my undergrad, I won a scholarship to study neurodevelopment at King’s College London. At King’s I really discovered my interest in stem cell biology, and applied to the neuroscience Ph.D. program, studying molecular mechanisms of neurodegenerative diseases. Fast forward four years, and after months of thesis writing, I wanted to be done with researching neurodegenerative disorders. I was still interested in studying molecular neuroscience, so I looked for postdocs in neuroscience, mainly on Nature Jobs. I found a position on an interesting molecular neuropsychiatry project at UCSF. I had been to San Francisco on a trip a couple of years earlier and absolutely loved it. I interviewed for the job and got an offer, but after a few months in my new role, I didn't really like the position. It turns out, my frustration with neurodegeneration research stemmed from personal burnout and exhaustion during my PhD (do take a break between your PhD and postdoc!), not the actual science. However, I was able to switch labs at UCSF and am now working on stem cell modelling in neurodegeneration, and I think I have finally landed where I belong. Photo by Pawel Janiak on Unsplash
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11/27/2020 0 Comments Science in the age of delusion“It doesn’t work!” my colleague said, exasperated and dejected, as she noisily dumped her recently examined samples into the trash. Her “big ticket” experiment hadn’t worked for the second time in a row. The writing was pretty much on the wall now that the hypothesis she was so ardently pursuing for the past several months was almost surely wrong. “I’m sorry”, was all I could muster, although I meant it in earnest, having just ended my second consecutive twelve hour workday with the knowledge that it was back to the drawing board for me as well. It was just past seven, and a lovely, warm San Francisco afternoon had just given way to a thick fog rolling in from the ocean. It was a difficult day, but as young scientists this was not unfamiliar territory for us. Weeks of meticulous planning and days of hard toil can all come crashing down because reality doesn’t care what we think it might look like. The task of uncovering reality is one of great thrill but also many setbacks-indeed, with many more failures than successes, as we are constantly reminded in our daily work. As I looked outside to see the fog engulfing the twilight sky, I couldn’t help but think of our own life in the lab, always gazing into the foggy horizon of the unknown, trying to shine a bright light on it to reveal the truth. At some level, what keeps us going is knowing the fact that we are part of this grand endeavor to advance humanity forward. Stone upon stone is slowly being excavated to uncover the truth of the universe and each one of us is doing their part by chipping away at one small artifact, not knowing what treasures it hides underneath. That’s the reward! As I stepped out of our research building onto the slippery sidewalk, with the gentle spitting of fog on my face, suddenly I felt this void inside me-a lack of connection and unfamiliarity to the world outside. It was as if my life inside the lab was in utter contradiction to the world outside of it. Here we were in the lab, working tirelessly to reveal the truth about life and the universe and how things work, respecting the primacy of data above all, while outside of it, we live in an era of misinformation, where nothing can be agreed upon and really nothing is considered ground reality! Where does science go when literally everything is obfuscated as a matter of opinion? Where does it leave scientists like us? From the 15th and 16th centuries, since the time of Galileo, science has become imperative to human progress. The industrial revolution ushered in the era of science and technology as the primary engine of advancing human progress in material terms. Yet somewhere in the rapid progress in recent decades, we may have left some people behind. Those that didn’t get to have a substantial scientific education were left unexposed, and vulnerable to be antagonized to this great engine of human growth. I have long believed that kids in school should learn about the scientific method first before being exposed to the specifics of physics, chemistry and biology. Perhaps those of us who are fortunate enough to not only learn these life skills, but practice them every day, also need to have a sense of humility about it. I think with this great knowledge, we are bestowed not with privilege, but with great responsibility. Science, after all, is not a few subjects in school. It is in essence, a way of thinking and rationalizing-which I hope, will increasingly become the basis for arranging our society and polity. And, it is amply clear that we all need to be on board this train to make a difference! As scientists, we have the added responsibility of ensuring that we do take everyone along, if we are to continue making progress and navigate this precarious bend of human history. For that, we need to be willing to step into the murkiness of the fog not only in the lab, but also in the outside world. Photo by Katie Moum on Unsplash
11/20/2020 0 Comments Looking Back, Looking AheadOutside of an occasional email, it had been over a year and a half since I had last talked to one of my most trusted PhD committee members. Even with the ubiquitous use of Zoom these days, we had roughly two minutes of audio difficulties before we were finally rolling. I went into the call thinking it would be a good chance for us to catch up, chat about our lives, and discuss where things stand in his lab and with my postdoc. However, he didn’t miss a beat and skipped all the usual Zoom pleasantries and awkward waving at the camera. “What is your timeline?” And before I could respond, “As you probably know, it isn’t typical for people to do their graduate work in one field, completely change fields for a postdoc, then try to return to the field of their graduate work to start a lab.” Talk about leading with the heavy questions. So, here is some background on my path to this point in my scientific journey. As a graduate student at UNC-Chapel Hill I worked in a small lab in a rather niche field: blood clotting biochemistry. I loved how the work was extremely basic in nature, but not too far removed from clinical relevance. However, I often found we were only able to push our questions so far given the resources and collaborations readily available to our lab. This led me to UCSF and a postdoc where I use proteomics and protein engineering to characterize and modulate immune function in cancer. It was an abrupt change, but allowed me to learn skills and techniques I thought would have been invaluable as a graduate student in the clotting field. The learning curve was rather steep, symptoms of impostor syndrome prevalent, and there were certainly growing pains, but that experience is a topic for another entry. Fast-forward two and a half years and here I am, still clinging to the hope of starting my own academic lab someday. The transition from a postdoc to a faculty position is arguably the most difficult on my chosen training path. The first task cresting the horizon is the application deadline for a K99, a highly-competitive funding award to help ease this transition. Although I have thoroughly enjoyed most aspects of my postdoc work, I would like to return to the clotting field and use my newfound skills to dive deeper into some basic biology. As my former committee member mentioned, this isn’t a typical path, but it is one I am committed to taking, and I know many challenges lie ahead. First, how do I get back up to speed with a field I have neglected for two years? How do I generate preliminary data in a lab woefully under-equipped to do clotting experiments? How can I balance both these efforts and the work related to my main, ongoing projects? I don’t know the answers, but I am going to try. I am registered to attend a conference attended by many in the clotting field in December. Although virtual, I am hoping to set up some one-on-one meetings to reconnect and gather insight into potential research questions that would interest the field. I have also been combing the literature to identify an in-between research direction that examines the interface of the immune system and clotting. If I am strategic, I think I can integrate some preliminary experiments into my main research program, building on both techniques and resources already available in my current lab. I have no idea if this is going to work, and it could blow up in my face. But, for as stressful as the start of my conversation with my committee member was, it ended with him giving an optimistic endorsement of this plan. So, I am going to give it a go. Stay tuned. Photo by Kyle Glenn on Unsplash
11/13/2020 0 Comments Postdocs: Life as an outsiderThere is a deep primal comfort in being part of a herd. Even though you still have to figure out the rules of your society and make a niche for yourself, being part of a herd gives you safety in numbers. All throughout my life, as I went from high school to undergrad to grad school, I have always been part of a cohort, a herd within the herd. I was part of an incoming class, attending the same classes, forced to be on the welcome committee for the next incoming class, on committees for selecting seminar speakers, and now suddenly, none of that is true. I never knew how much I took for granted this social structure that just provided me with a pool of potential friends, all of whom are roughly my age and are all pursuing science in my field. Of course this sounds like an exaggeration, I made friends with people in my lab and people who were the members of the social groups I joined. It's just that for the first time, I realized socialization has to go from a passive to an active exercise as a postdoc (the horror!). What I mean by an active exercise is that you have to put effort into making friends. I have always relied on speaking to someone in a class as the initial foray into friendship. There is a sense of shared experience, you have something to talk about, maybe assignments that you mutually hate. Now I can imagine the picture you have in your head about me but you might be surprised. Members of my lab would probably describe me as cheerful and outgoing. I’m married and also I’m talkative meaning I don’t have difficulty engaging with people. Making friends during this stage is, however, a very different kind of social interaction. The diversity in your field narrows as you specialize in your subject. This is where being an immigrant makes a difference in how you experience life. I know many immigrant postdocs who are only friends with other immigrants from their original countries. To me, that seems narrow, although I supposed I should make allowances for language barriers. Why not participate in the social experiment called academia in the United States? A place where people from different cultures and backgrounds all come together in finding a common ground in interesting new ideas. I can understand why immigrants tend to form such homogenous friend circles. As an immigrant I sometimes feel like a player in a game where I’m not quite sure what the rules are. I also feel uneasy sticking out because I’m already different enough. When I started my postdoc, I had the novel experience of moving to a new city without the social safety net of a group of fresh transplant classmates. I see that my colleagues have a greater diversity in life experience (single/ married/ married with kids/ country of origin/ scientific background), which changes the dynamic of making close friendships with other postdocs. So in the end, what can my asocial homebody immigrant postdoc counterparts do to make friends? My advice is to sign up for an activity you might enjoy, say for instance writing a blog entry for the Scholar’s Digest website. My experience has taught me that my ‘differentness’ is actually just in my head. Don’t be afraid to participate in activities that you might think aren’t for you. Who knows? Maybe the active search for friends might be more fun than you think. I certainly intend to find out. Photo by Helena Lopes on Unsplash Author |