Hiatus?

I know. Things have been a little quiet around here lately. And honestly, they will most likely continue to be for a little while. Some things just should not be broadcast to the entire intertoobz, and I need a longer cooling off period before I trust myself to write about the insanity in my life without saying some of those things. I also made a decision regarding my career this week that will entail using my few free hours (during which I usually would blog) for other activities.

I will still be hosting April's edition of the Scientiae Carnival. The deadline for submissions is only a week away! Check here for this month's theme and how to submit your post.

Choices: Graduate program edition

It's that time of year. The applications are in. Undergraduates (and others) around the country are waiting to hear if they've been accepted or invited for an interview. In less than three months, they will have decided where to spend the next 3 to 7 years. Between now and then, they will be gathering intel--scouring websites, talking with PIs and students, visiting campuses--which will inform their impending decision.

The whole process can be overwhelming. I was pretty clueless going in. I knew I wanted to pursue biological chemistry research. I had found professors whose research I was interested in. Beyond that, I didn't know what to expect or what I was looking for in a graduate program.

My undergraduate training was at a mid-sized state school in a small department, which encompassed chemistry and biochemistry. My experience and interactions there certainly influenced my views of what I wanted. I gravitated toward programs that had a similar atmosphere. This meant programs that were highly collaborative and multi-disciplinary in practice. I was weary of departments and labs in which PIs talked about collaborations with people across the country or half way around the world, but never mentioned working with colleagues in the department. I recently described my philosophy regarding divisions between disciplines and subfields of chemistry and biology, a philosophy I held even as a prospective Ph.D. student. I felt then (and still do) that it is difficult to integrate and advance related disciplines if a department imposes rigid barriers between them. I realized later that the rigid structure often went along with a seeming lack of collaboration within the department. I also stayed away from programs in which there seemed to be a great deal of tension between students and their PIs. This was largely rooted in a lack of self-confidence. I could not envision myself going head-to-head with an adviser on a regular basis, nor could I imagine being silent or deferential during repetitive conflicts, especially those unrelated to research. I also could not see myself doing well in a cutthroat department.

I heeded the advice of my undergrad professors. Dr. D told me to find the student who had been in the program the longest, who would have the most experience with the program, the most reason to be bitter, and usually the most honest responses. If you talk to that person and he or she doesn't regret joining the program, then that's a good sign. I did just this on my visit to PSU. Someone else suggested asking basically everyone I met about the typical length of a Ph.D. in their program and how long they had been there. In chemistry, an average beyond five years was viewed as problematic. An issue that revealed itself was that many programs stop providing funding to students after six years; in some of the same programs, it was not unusual to take that long or longer to complete a Ph.D.

Dr. K, another undergrad instructor, counseled me to not pick a program if there were not at least two advisers that I could see myself working for. Although Bear was my first choice for mentor, I saw the wisdom of this advice play out in my program. There are several reasons you might (have to) pass on your first choice PI. You might realize that you'd rather be mauled by hyenas than work for your "dream" adviser once you do a rotation in his/her lab. A PI's funding situation may not allow him/her to take a new student the year you arrive; hopefully this is something you would know before choosing a program, but there is no guarantee. If the PI has a tenure review and doesn't get it, he/she may choose to go somewhere else. Or there may be a high level of interest in a given subfield the year you join. Among my first year colleagues, there were 8 people vying for 6 spots in three labs. Needless to say, two didn't get into the labs they wanted. One of them found a suitable alternative; the other postponed joining a lab for almost another year. The point is things happen, so it's good to have more than one option.

Looking back, perhaps one of the most important things about the application process was figuring out what I really wanted. The questions I asked myself were just as important as the ones I asked others. What was most important to me: sexy science or sanity? What was I willing to compromise on? Was an ultra-competitive or a collaborative environment right for me? I spent time thinking about my experience and my level of comfort and confidence. As a prospective grad student, I didn't have much of any of those. I chose the program where I could see myself succeeding at research that excited, where I would learn from my instructors, my adviser, and other labs. It was a good program--a great one in my book, actually--but not the "best" of my choices (at least according to the U.S. News and World Report). But in hindsight, it was the best program from me. I went in as a timid undergrad but left as a confident scientist. And that's what it should really be about.

How much am I worth?

Professor in Training recently initiated a discussion about the realities of the tenure track. One of the subplots of the discussion regarded paying postdocs "what they're worth". PhysioProf suggests that the NIH/NRSA payscale is a reasonable approximation of what a postdoc is worth. PiT asks, "What is a postdoc really 'worth'? Is $40K/yr sufficient renumeration for someone who has >10 years of college education behind them?"

As of 2009, the NIH set the pre-tax salary of a first year postdoc at $37,368. The pay level increases with each year of completed experience; the increase, which averages out to approximately $2,000 per year, ranges from about $1,600 to $2,800 (evidently the NIH feels that postdocs gain the most worth during their second year). The NIH periodically re-evaluate and increase paylines for "cost of living", usually on the order of $500/yr.

Many institutions use the NIH payscale to set their own postdoc salaries. (At some point, I was under the impression that any institute receiving NIH funds was more or less required to pay the NIH/NRSA salary as a minimum, but I may be wrong; feel free to enlighten me in the comments.) This provides some advantage to postdocs by setting a minimum expectation. Some institutes, however, take the NIH payline as absolute truth and do not consider for cost-of-living or taxation rates (my own institute falls into this category). 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), and the state income tax rate jumped substantially upon my move to BRI. By the time I pay out taxes and benefits, my net income is only marginally higher than a grad student at PSU. 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. Of course, when a PI is applying for a grant, s/he can only request up to the NIH/NRSA payline to cover a postdoc's salary. Anything over that payline must come (I assume) from discretionary funds that then, of course, cannot be used for other costs like supplies or travel.

I really don't know what, if any, solution there is. But in wage debates, sometimes we neglect to mention or lose sight of the fact that $40k in one state is not the same in another. This was a consideration that influenced my choice of graduate schools. It is also going to play a big role in our next move. I can't help but wonder if some institutions are missing out on some talented postdocs and grad students for this reason.

Survival of the...?

Less than a month after closing its merger with Wyeth, Pfizer announced its latest restructuring plan yesterday. This involves establishing five central R&D sites, 4 in the US and 1 in the UK. Details on the restructuring are slim, but it is reminiscent of the current GSK model.

Also not discussed in the press release: How many scientists will be losing their jobs. Given that Pfizer will be reducing R&D ops at 3 sites, consolidating its R&D sites in Connecticut, and completely shutting down R&D ops at several other sites, the news ain't gonna be good. This follows on news last week that Johnson and Johnson could be cutting up to 8000 jobs. No one seems to know what sort of layoff numbers will be emerging from the Merck/Schering-Plough merger.

Unfortunately this is part of the life cycle of big pharma. They assimilate other companies and then the pruning begins. I don't think this is really anything new. Just ask someone working for Monsanto 15 years ago... which became Pharmacia... which was acquired by Pfizer. There are many other examples. I don't know how numbers laid off in recent years compare with mergers of previous decades (yes, I'm a lazy blogger and have not consulted Wikipedia on this), but mergers and layoffs are nothing new (just like the valleys in NIH/NSF funding are nothing new).

Perhaps this is why I was struck by this comment on Derek Lowe's* post on the subject:

I am Synthetic Organic chemist about to graduate from a reputable group. I am so frustrated with these pharma layoffs and thinking to go to academics. So what do you guys think, is academic job is better in present context?

Of course, one has to wonder what he (or she) means by an 'academic job'.

If he means associate professor position, as interpreted by commenter OrgChemRedundant, then my answer would be 'HELL NO!'. You don't, or at least in my mind shouldn't, pursue that career path as a backup plan. Need I really explain why?

If he means working as a bench chemist in someone's lab, then it's worth considering. Some university departments/institutes have been investing heavily in organic chemists, setting up what I can best describe as mini-biotech groups within academia. These entities utilize chemists to synthesize hits from high-throughput screens, compounds for groups without synthetic capacities, problematic syntheses, etc. To some extent, you're still at the mercy of the grant cycles, but you may be more insulated from the economic swings. You might also be making less money than you would in pharma.

This also highlights a previous discussion we've had here: There are options outside of academia and big pharma. There are those companies that we buy all our solvents and chemicals from. There are many smaller companies, like Cayman Chemical and Santa Cruz Biotechnology, that specialize in classes of compounds or targets for bio-related research. There are smaller companies that big pharma is outsources some of their synthesis to.

If you really want to go the pharma route, whatever the reason, here is a piece of advice that I heard during a talk by an 'old' chemist at Merck. He had been at the company for 20 or 30 years and, over those years, had worked on one particular biological target multiple times. The project was tabled, and almost killed completely, multiple times, mainly because drugs against the target did not appropriately treat the indications they were developed for. Ultimately he had the satisfaction of seeing a drug make it to the market that truly changed lives, one case he witnessed personally. By that point, he was a division head, but the pride and satisfaction was clear. He was trained as an organic synthetic chemist, but one message he had for his audience was this: Even in pharma, simply being a synthetic chemist is not enough; you have to learn and understand at least some of the biology and physiology of the system you're working on.

Honestly, we could turn this into a fill-in-the-blank statement. Science--at the very least, chemical and biological sciences--has changed. For most of us, we can no longer pick a small niche and just stay there, speaking only with our niche-mates. There's a reason multi-/inter-disciplinary training has taken off--and it's not just because of NIH investment in such training programs. It's because we can no longer just be a(n): enzymologist, molecular biologist, organic chemist... As grad students, we may train to become one of these things, but that doesn't mean we can't or shouldn't learn other things. We don't have to become experts in every other field, and the truth is, we can't. However, we can pay attention to what's going on in other fields, to understand the big questions that other scientists are studying, to learn what challenges other labs are facing. That's the way we will make progress. And that's the way we will (professionally) survive.

* Derek Lowe's blog In the Pipeline is an excellent read if you're interested in drug discovery or what's going on in the pharma industry.

Clone wars

It seems like more than 9 days has passed since my last blog post. The past week has been pretty crazy with several very long days/nights in the lab, urgent experiments getting dumped in my lap at the last minute, struggling with my own long experiments--you know, the usual travails of the typical postdoc (or grad student). Throw in there a program retreat with a large number of grad students (meaning late night after-parties and thus < 8 h sleep over two nights) and a minor medical procedure that, among other things, required me to give up real food and coffee for >40 h (the latter was painful-literally) and be up at some godforsaken hour this morning. Upon discharge, I was instructed to go home, rest, and avoid 'activities that require you to think or act quickly'. So I think that leaves sleeping, watching crappy daytime TV , re-reading Harry Potter, and blogging. I've hit 2; I'll get to the others later.

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It starts at the top, with the administrators and the PIs. It then filters down to the lower ranks--the postdocs, the grad students, the research associates. It really is an insidious plague. And despite the dramatically different landscape, the acknowledgment of its presence, the discussions of alternatives, it still continues to spread. I am referring to the ridiculous assertion that success as a scientist requires one to remain in academia. Yes, this is a sweeping generalization. Yes, there (probably) are PIs out there who are happy with whatever career choice their trainees make, so long as their trainees are happy with the decision.

But there remains a pervasive attitude that if you are a productive student/postdoc and leave academia to pursue other career options, then you made a mistake or cracked under the pressure or some other term equated with failure. (Chall was recently the center of this perception at her new job.) In many graduate programs, you're essentially presented with two career options: research in industry or research in academia. And many PIs seem to consider a move to industry as the ultimate betrayal (after all, Pfizer and Merck are actually run by Voldemort and Darth Vader, right?).

It's satisfying to have someone follow in your footsteps, so to speak, to want what you have, to create 'clones' of yourself. Some PIs, though, can't seem to understand why on earth any good trainee would want something other than a tenure-track position at an R1 university. Some even seem to take it as a personal insult that a trainee would choose any other path. Some go so far as to tell their trainees that they will be wasting their lives, should they choose something else.

Now I think I've made my career aspirations pretty clear. I do want the students, the postdocs, the lab (even if it's in a basement somewhere)... but that is my decision. I don't assume that every other postdoc or grad student wants that. There are two innate problems with making such an assumption.

The first is practical: There simply are not enough faculty positions available for every trainee. So by telling your trainees that a tenure-track position is the only worthwhile job out there and pushing them toward that career path, you're setting them up for failure. Depending on how deeply that notion gets ingrained, your trainee may find impossible to be truly happy with any other job because your voice is always in the back of her (or his) mind reminding her of where she went wrong, that she couldn't make it, that she failed.

The second is personal, but may come as a shock to some PIs: Not every individual with a Ph.D. wants to run his/her own lab at an R1. Furthermore (and you may want to sit down for this one), not every individual with a Ph.D. wants to stay in research. The reasons for not wanting to start a lab or not wanting to stay in research are vast. Too vast to even tackle here. Occasionally a trainee may simply lack confidence, and a word of encouragement may be just what he or she needs to start down that path. However, a PI shouldn't pressure anyone to pursue an academic research career just because he/she thinks it's the right decision for that trainee.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

Note: I have no idea if these ramblings will make any sense. If they don't, I blame the horrendous cold and the cold medicine. Actually I probably shouldn't blog 'under the influence', but I'm going to anyway.

Making life-changing decisions is hard. Making the actual change is infinitely harder. That's when the real work begins, and it usually takes years. After all, they're not week-changing decisions. You take that first step. You start on your way. You keep your head down. You're watching your feet because the trail is can be rocky, your footing unsure, and you don't want to fall on your face right out of the gate. You keep going this way for a little while. Then you look up and see what's really in front of you. Sometimes it knocks the wind out of you.

When Paramed and I made the decision to move to the Northland so I could do a postdoc at BRI, we knew it wouldn't be easy. There were events prior to and after the decision that made us question if we'd made the right
one, not so much from the career standpoint, but because we were moving even farther away from family. We had no idea, though, just how hard the change would be. Even though we were both ready to move on, it was
tough leaving PSU City. We spent the first 5+ years of our marriage there, and it was the first place where we established a set of friends and habits that were completely independent of our families. Having spent our entire lives in the southern US, moving to the Northland was a HUGE culture shock. Plus it's always a challenge to walk into a group as the newbie, trying to figure out where you fit in and establish connections with the people. On top of this, there was a massive emotional roller coaster involving Paramed's plans and future for the first 9 months we were here. All of this is to say, for the past several months, I've been keeping my head down, watching my feet.

Then, over the past few weeks, many small things--blogs, conversations, ramblings of the subconscious, etc.--that caused me to look up, see what's in front of me regarding my career track, and say (initially at least), "What the hell did I get myself into?" To be honest, I'm a little jealous of Dr Becca, who said this week:

What seems to be most highly valued is having a real focus throughout your career, as opposed to flitting about learning a million methods in different fields.

... realizing that this is what is desirable in a New Investigator candidate, a sneaky grin crept onto my face because I was also realizing that I have GOT IT.

I'm jealous because I don't have that. I chose a different path, a different field, and it seems I've been trying to rationalize this to myself recently.

I think what it comes down to is that 'finding yourself', figuring out what you want to do with your life isn't a linear path for everyone. It certainly hasn't been for me. I briefly described my background when I first started this blog. Growing up where I did, I didn't know any scientists, and there certainly weren't any opportunities to do research as a high school student. I had loved science from the outset, but it was a long time before I considered it as a career. When I made the decision to pursue a career in science, I was almost done with my BS and jumped straight into grad school. I didn't take/have much time to explore areas outside of chemistry/biochemistry. I gravitated to biochem, but as a grad student, I was fascinated by more heavily bio/biomed-related research. Bear encouraged his grad students to keep up with what was going on in the literature outside our area of interests. I took that to heart. And I became intrigued by two fields that were quite far removed, in both content and techniques, from my graduate work.

Ultimately I chose one of those fields--immunology--for my postdoc work. Part of my reasoning was that immunology is constantly changing and evolving. There is really no shortage of questions and problems to work on. There is certainly a place in immunology for biochemistry and for tools emerging from chemical biology labs, which are not being widely used. I wanted the change work on something that was really important, to work in a field where a novel discovery has the potential to change medicine. And, for reasons that I can't even explain to myself, it just felt right. Maybe that's a poor reason to choose a new field, but it was one of mine, nonetheless.

Of course, that decision has brought a lot of things with it--like learning (obviously) immunology and, perhaps not so obviously, (re)learning cell signaling and physiology. I also realize that this choice all but guarantees taking a second postdoc before I start searching for my 'dream job'. Even then, it could very well count against me with some search committee/study section members that I switched fields. No one is guaranteed success in science, but sometimes I'm afraid that I might have made it much more difficult for myself.

But then I consider that one smart, successful immunologist decided to give me a chance--a chance to learn the field, yes, but also a chance to bring a fresh outlook to the project. He didn't bring me in and send the biochemist to purify antibodies or quantify binding constants. He gave me a problem that needs a biochemical perspective but is immunological at the core. Yes, it's been a bit rocky, but isn't almost every new project? And it's been exciting to see that the systems and pathways we're studying are slowly gaining more attention and interest--both in academia and industry.

I like this quote from Susumu Tonegawa in a recent piece in Cell about taking risks in science:

I keep telling young people, if you want to accomplish anything you have to be an optimist... You have to control you own life. You have to ask yourself why you do science. To put it bluntly, publishing papers in prestigious journals should not be the goal of a scientist. The goal is to discover something, to do something important.

In the end, it comes down to this: I chose to take a risk. I might fail. In fact, there's a good chance that I will fail--many times. I might even fail miserably. When I fail, I have to remember why I'm in it--for the thrill of the discovery, for the chance to have an impact--and pick myself up and go back again. And have as much fun as I can along the way.