Five neat presentation tricks

Last night I ran a workshop on ‘writing and presenting at conferences’ as part of the ‘On Track’ program I run at RMIT university. During the session I asked the group to tell me the worst things they had ever seen in presentations.

It was a big bad list: reading from slides, no eye contact, visible nervousness, inability to stick to time and so on and on. Then I asked them to tell me some of the innovative and interesting presentation techniques they had seen, or used themselves. Four of these really stood out, so I thought I would share them with you today and add a 5th of my own.

1. Text me the questions

One of the students told us about a presenter who started her talk by telling people to turn on their mobile phones. The presenter’s mobile number was on every slide so that people could text her questions as they occurred throughout the talk.

As Julie noted in the previous  post, some people at conferences tend to ask questions which are not really questions, but thinly disguised rants. This texting idea is brilliant; besides making them pay to ask a question, a text message enforces brevity! Of course, nominating a hashtag in twitter could act in the same way – if they can’t say it in 140 characters it probably isn’t a question is it?

2. The last slide is the most important piece of screen real estate

The group noted that the last slide stays on the screen for longer than the rest of the presentation. One person pointed out this is an excellent opportunity to guide the discussion by leaving a question or provocative remark hanging in the air.

Another noted that it was a perfect place to put your name and contact details so that people in the audience can take a note of it on the spot. I thought there was sound logic in this; it can be difficult to remember who said what after you have seen 50 or so presentations. It’s not always easy to get contact details from the program and not everyone’s name is easy to Google – even if you happen to remember it.

3. Have some extra time planned

One student told us how there will always be a member of the audience who wants to challenge him on the details of his data or analysis. He always includes a slide or two which are only for question time and shows them if he is asked about the details. I’m sure it makes him come across as quite the organised professional – and silences the nit pickers.

4. Slide tickertape

We talked a little about organising a presentation and about the importance of ‘saying what you are going to say’ before you say it. A student told us about a ‘ticker tape’ method – indicating at the bottom of each slide which bit the speaker was talking about. Titles like ‘background’, ‘method’ and ‘results’ can be displayed in different colours along with the rest of the information. If the audience’s attention wanders briefly they can quickly reorient themselves.

5. Think beyond words and images…

In our workshop we talked about the impossibility of getting across a whole 10,000 word paper to the audience in 20 minutes or so. We discussed ways of organising the material so it is interesting, rather than comprehensive.

The presentation which stands out as the most interesting for me was one I saw years ago by Barbara Bolt. She’s an artist and was talking about ‘working hot’ and something about Kant. Ok – I don’t remember the exact details of what she was saying, but I do remember the presentation because as the audience came into the room she had the lights low and was playing loud techno music. It instantly created a mood which was unexpected and the perfect analog to the point she was trying to make about being ‘in the moment’ while painting. It was effective because she gave us a visceral cue about the feeling she was talking about – rather than trying to explain a difficult concept purely in words.

That’s the top five for this week. I would love it if people wrote in with more presentation techniques because they are a bit like the little black dress – you can never have enough of them!

The art of asking questions

This week’s post is by Julie Rudner, who recently completed her PhD at the University of Melbourne and is now lecturing at Latrobe University

Having submitted my PhD, and having time to reflect on the process, I have become curious about the art of asking questions. I think this is a vital ‘research skill’, yet it seems that many people don’t bother to develop the capacity to ask the right questions at the right times.

When I was a PhD student it is my opinion that my supervisors did not ask enough questions about my knowledge, skills and understandings, and were therefore less able to help direct my energies.

But perhaps I had unrealistic expectations? Maybe this disinterest in questioning me stemmed from the assumption that that I, as an ‘independent’ PhD student, should define for myself the nebulous area of what I needed to learn to succeed. Or it could have been that my supervisors just assumed competence on my part because of my background.

Taking a less generous view, my supervisors may not have taken the time to reflect on the issues I was facing. Now I am now a supervisor myself I believe this is an important area for students and supervisors to take the time to explore.

You can help this process along by asking plenty of questions; this can help the supervisor draw conclusions for themselves about what you know – and what you need to learn.

But some students may be reluctant to ask this many questions. For fear of appearing stupid, some might save their questions at spend too much energy appearing more confident than maybe they feel. In my opinion this helps no one.

This leads me to my second reason for being interested in the art of asking questions: the problem of knowledge, or rather the lack of it. I have a strong desire to remain a curious researcher, rather than a researcher who seeks to continuously support my existing beliefs. There will always be things I do not know and being comfortable enough to admit this will be a constant challenge.

In my observation, some experts we come across during our study and professional lives do not want to face up to this lack of knowledge and therefore do not ask enough questions. The most dangerous type of non questioner is the person who possess such confidence (sometimes to the point of arrogance) in their knowledge that they no longer seem to need to ask questions.

You have met this type of person no doubt. At every conference one of them will ask a ‘question’ of a presenter that is not really a question at all, but an excuse to hear themselves speaking and put forward their own point of view.

In contrast, I have also come across many researchers who are very humble in their knowledge; they ask questions that seem so basic, yet demonstrate a deep and unassuming curiosity.  They are often able to elicit new knowledge through this questioning which provides a depth of understanding or nuanced meaning that was previously un-articulated.

Having presented my wonderings and the background to my thoughts, I would like to pose a few questions of my own:

How do we work to ‘suspend’ our current knowledge and assumptions to create an unknowing state within ourselves, so we have the courage to ask questions that seem trivial, moot, or stupid?

For PhD students, who often do not know what questions to ask to further them along their journey, what do you need from supervisors to help you gain awareness of that unchartered territory?

Top five ways to better academic networking

This week I was lucky enough to attend the Three Minute Thesis competition final at the University of Queensland. A total of 33 universities from around Australia, New Zealand and Fiji participated. I was there as the RMIT University support person for our champion, Ali Daliri who, despite a heroic effort didn’t win.

Lots of people in the research education field were present, so for me it had all the benefits of a conference without the hassle of presenting a paper. Since this experience is fresh, and I have already done a top 5 on presenting your research in three minutes, for this Thursday’s top 5 I thought I would talk about networking at academic conferences

Many lists of this sort are aspirational, mine is more mundane and strategic – but you guys seem to like that stuff

1) Talk about the papers.

At the first conference I attended I was surprised by what I mess I was at the morning tea table. While everyone else seemed to know people and slip into little chatty cliques, I stood there holding my cup feeling as awkward as a teenager at a blue light disco. This was disconcerting because I am normally at ease socially (my mother worked hard on this believe me – I am not a natural).

When I got home I told one of my supervisors how I felt and he gave me some pointers for starting up conversation, one of which was ‘just talk about the papers’. So now, if I am lonely, I look for another solo player and introduce myself. Then I ask about which is the best paper they have seen so far. After this the conversation usually starts to flow.

2) Become social glue.

Point two follows on from point one. Once you have made a friend by bonding over papers it is easy to slip into just hanging out with them at the next break, but it’s important to resist the temptation. However it is rude to just ignore your new buddy – the point is to make lasting friends remember? So I usually suggest to my new friend that we try to befriend another solo player together.I then try to build from there, periodically leaving my new clique to bring in new people.

The first day can be hard work, but it pays off. Lessening the social load by doing the hard yards with new people makes you everyone’s instant friend. If you persevere, by the second day you will have met at least four or five people and have been asked out to dinner – I guarantee it. If you go to repeat conferences this is a strategy which pays great dividends over time.

3) Be prepared.

Along with the obvious things you need, such as business cards, computer and phone chargers etc, don’t forget to take extra headache medicine! Lots of people at conferences are a little stressed out / jet-lagged / hung over and many of them forget to be prepared for this.

Luckily I am a bit of a fan of the old headache medication and consequently have made lifelong friends after producing magic pills from my bag. The power of bathroom bonding – where such requests are usually aired – cannot be over looked and provides another avenue to activate the strategy outlined in points one and two.

4) Remember the rule of four (or less). There will be times, of course, when you want to talk to some established ‘big names’. They are usually surrounded by hangers on and people they met when they were newbies at conferences and have known for years, so this can be difficult.

Since I am not a natural, I always think about these social problems analytically. This is why, some time ago, I read with interest ‘Grooming, gossip and the evolution of language’ by Robin Dunbar. One of Dunbar’s more fascinating theories is that our brains can only handle so many people talking at once. In fact he claims our capacity is limited to four.

In groups greater than four, one person will be ‘holding the floor’, for instance by telling some kind of story, or the group will splinter. The next time you are at a party test out this theory by trying to join a group of four and see what happens (and let me know the result!).

When your target ‘star’ is talking in a pair it can seem rude to break in, but you can do it if you hover near them and try to make eye contact. If there is a group of three however it is much easier and you should go for it by just joining in and saying something – humans love a fourth.

However if the star is already a group of four remember if you make the attempt now you will have to be a ‘group breaker’ – or relegated to being a listener. Being a group breaker has a social cost – it’s likely you will need to work harder to not appear rude.

Oh and make sure you have some good questions prepared for the star so you can sustain the conversation after all this effort!

5) Don’t drink alcohol – especially at conference dinners.

I know that one of my good friends (who shall remain nameless) would violently disagree with me on this point. He talks fondly of the friendships he has forged over a red wine or five at conferences. However, unlike my friend, who is genial and funny under the influence, I do not hold my liquor well.

They say your true self comes out when you are drunk and I turn into a clumsy, affectionate and compulsive over sharer. I do not come across as a smart and switched on person who can talk the finer points of Actor Network Theory on demand – which is how I would rather be remembered. I have had to work hard at being relaxed without needing a drink around my peers and colleagues, but it has been worth it.

So that’s my top five strategies for schmoozing on the conference circuit – what are yours?

Reflecting on fugues and research design

This week’s guest post is from Heather Davis, PhD student at RMIT University

Fugue. n. (Music): A contrapuntal composition in which a theme is introduced by one part, repeated by other parts, and subjected to complex development.

Is a breakthrough in understanding always uncomfortable?

Some time ago I tweeted that I was: “thinking about research design and fugues–both musical and befuddlement–fugues are saying a lot to me about the PhD process…”

The reason the musical definition of fugue resonated with me was because it described the difficulty I experienced trying to explain the research design and where I was heading with the methodological framework as I put together my confirmation in November 2008.  Both design and methodology were ‘playing’ away in my head and they felt like they consisted of distinct, yet somehow related, parts – just like a fugue.  My challenge was to bring together what may seem to be discordant elements into some sort of cohesive framework.

The writing block I experienced while trying to put together my confirmation document, upon reflection, was quite befuddling. It was just like the other definition of fugue, as in a fugue like state! It seemed that the more I learnt about the process of doing research, the less I was able to put pen to paper!!

Very disconcerting indeed, until I realised that what I had been learning in the six months prior to confirmation was tied up with ‘identity’. That initial work wasn’t really supposed to get much ink in the thesis – it was a way to get to a deeper understanding myself as a researcher and scholar (without the work of Barbara Kamler & Pat Thomson I may never have got past that block!)

This was a really big ‘aha’ moment for me and the insights were well worth the discomfort.  I’m now in another intensive writing period as I draft my thesis chapters and yes, I’m still working and living through the levels of discomfort associated with deep impact learning.

In ”The qualitative dissertation: a guide for students and faculty”, Piantanide and Garmen talk about ‘cycles of deliberation’:

Shaping a qualitative dissertation occurs as students immerse themselves in deliberations, grappling with interconnections among all facets of the inquiry–that is, one’s self as researcher, the intent of the inquiry, the inquiry process, and relevant discourses.  In our experience, it does not seem to matter which facet of the inquiry one begins to consider first.  What does matter is attending continually to all facets of the study.  Sometimes, this feels like skipping around without focus, or like blindly shuffling pieces of the study.  But puzzling over the connections among the various facets of the inquiry is what finally allows one to fit pieces together.  Each time this happens, students enter another, deeper cycle of deliberation (Piantanida & Garman, 1999, p. 7).

These cycles of deliberation may be accompanied by discomfort as we move to deeper understandings, or as the Poet, Philosopher and Artist Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931) put it:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Perhaps I have a particularly tough shell surrounding my understanding because my writing blocks crack open a deep crevice of emotional, physical and intellectual discomfort when they occur–or the good ones do anyway!  On a positive note, I now realise that this is my pattern for deep impact learning and this is how it is likely to affect me.  I need this ‘wallow’ time to break through to deeper understandings.  Knowing that I will probably go through some discomfort, yet staying with the feeling, confident that my thinking will eventually resolve itself into a comprehensible melody again, has helped me to persevere.

Piantanida & Garman’s (1999) cycles of deliberation are one way to describe the iterative process that enables us to get to the deep intellectual thinking needed for a PhD.  To get there in one step, for me anyway, would be impossible. That’s why writing, rewriting, drafting and redrafting–and the thinking time in between–are so important to this process.

Doing all of this without a net just adds to the complexity of an already volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous experience.  By ‘without a net’ I mean there is always an inherent risk when undertaking a PhD as there are no guarantees and no one right path to contributing new and original knowledge.  There are however ways to mitigate against this risky business, mainly by developing meaningful relationships with supervisors and peers; and by:

• having someone to talk to about the good and the not so good experiences
• hearing and reading about other people’s experiences of the PhD journey

According to Stephen Hawking (2000) we are also doing this work in the century of complexity.   A century where volatility, uncertainty, complexity and ambiguity are now denoted by the acronym VUCA (Johansen, 2009).  Turning these words into an acronym suggests that we can work with these elements.  Thinking of a PhD as a VUCA environment suggests that we can also work with uncertainty and be confident that, if we hold our nerve, we can achieve deeper understandings, even if the breaking of the shell to these understanding is indeed uncomfortable.

These tensions are what makes PhD inquiry so interesting!!

I wonder if students in other disciplines have similar cycles and fugue like states? Is a breakthrough always preceded by discomfort and how do you learn to live with it well?

References

Johansen, Robert. Leaders Make the Future: Ten New Leadership Skills for an Uncertain World. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2009.

Kamler, Barbara, and Pat Thomson. Helping Doctoral Students Write: Pedagogies for Supervision. Abingdon, Oxon ; New York: Routledge, 2006.

Piantanida, Maria, and Noreen B. Garman. The Qualitative Dissertation: A Guide for Students and Faculty. London: Sage, 1999.

5 ways to make your supervisor happy

Before I go into this week’s top five I wanted to thank www.collegescholarships.org for listing us at #33 in their recent  ‘top 100 education blogs” . It’s an honour guys. There are a few great sites on this list for research students I might add, so it’s definitely worth a look if you are so inclined.

I also want to thank Pip at the University of Waikato for publishing an excerpt from the ‘It’s Time’ talk in their latest TDU talk magazine for supervisors. I read through all the back issues (I’m nerdy like that) and there is a ton of good stuff in there for supervisors and students.

Speaking of supervisors, this week’s top five came out of reflecting on myself as a research supervisor and asking – what makes me happy? As I said – these Top Fives will be opinionated!

1) Your answer to ‘jump’ is ‘how high Dr Mewburn?’
As soon as I email you asking for a status report you email me straight back with a gantt chart and synopsis. I like that about you. It doesn’t seem to matter if I have been maintaining radio silence for weeks on end – you are always ready to answer. I especially love the way that you don’t make me chase you down at Mr Tulk or another student hang out to get an update. That would turn me into Grumpy Old Supervisor. Nobody likes the grumpy old supervisor.

2) You don’t really dig the stuff that I dig, but you respect the fact that I dig it
I love the way that, even though you think Nigel Thrift writes incomprehensible gibberish, you remember that I love him. You actually take the time to read the Thrift papers I give you – before you tell me that his work is pointless for your project. I don’t understand why you don’t love Thrift as much as I do, but it would probably get boring if all our meetings turned into a Thrift love fest anyway. Besides, I enjoy arguing with you. And hey – if you convince me that someone has better theory than Thrift does about your topic, I learn something new – right?

3) I didn’t hear you say you were too busy – right?
You understand that I like a person who does what they say they will. I appreciate that you very quickly learned that saying “I was too busy to get that draft done when I said I would” only leads to a raised eyebrow and a rant. Usually the one which outlines the list of all the things I did (taught, changed nappies, wiped spit up, cooked, cleaned, solved world hunger…) when I was doing my PhD. You know that rant is very boring and you and I hate having to listen to it.

4) You remember to fill in forms and stuff.
I hate administrative forms. They are the enemy and I am bad at them. You, however, can do the form thing when it is asked for and I appreciate that. It means that I never get pesky emails from administrators telling me that you forgot to enrol or something.

5) You are going to finish your degree on time and not embarrass me with the result. I am now convinced you will finish and pass your degree with flying colours. At times, I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure you were ever going to finish, but I am happy it seems to be heading in the right direction now. You worked hard for that and I get to take some credit for it. Everybody wins!

What would make you happy if you were a supervisor? If you already a supervisor – what’s your top five?

How to win (academic) friends and influence people

It is well known that professors can have favourite students, which usually irritates the heck out of the students who finally work out that they are not on the list. Being the favourite student can carry a lot of power – like access to the supervisor’s time and resources (in a perfect world, of course, research supervisors would not give preference to one student over another, but the world is far from perfect).

Working out how to become the favourite student can be difficult. I often meet new PhD students who are mystified by the subtle workings of academic pecking order, despite substantial career success in other industries. I always point the confused at Rugg and Petres’ excellent book “The unwritten rules of PhD Research” where there is a good discussion about the importance of recognising the difference between ‘instrumental’ and  ‘expressive behaviours’ in an academic setting.

Instrumental behaviours are goal directed: you do something to get something done, or to find out things you need to know, whereas expressive behaviours demonstrate to others what kind of person you are. I have talked about expressive behaviour before in relation to thesis writing, but the concept can be applied more widely.

An example of an instrumental behaviour might be only downloading articles that you are interested in for your own work. The expressive behaviour counterpart would be to take the time to be aware of the work of others around you – your supervisor or people in your extended research network – and occasionally send them articles you come across which you know will interest them. This is because journal articles are tokens of knowledge which can you can use to buy the attention of other academics.  But, like any other kind of gift, the articles have to be VERY well chosen to be effective. (Twitter can be used to great effect here by the way).

Rugg and Petre would understand this sort of journal article sharing activity as sending a special kind of signal, one which helps you to become known as a generous and interested academic. Of course the side benefit is that more people talk to you at mixer parties and conference morning teas.

Such expressive behaviours are often not ‘taught’ because they consist of taken for granted ways of operating, which you could think of as a form of  ”insider knowledge’. One could be paranoid and see this sort of insider knowledge as a form of power – which tends to be hoarded – or you could be more realistic and see the common failure to induct newbies into this knowledge as a sin of omission rather than commission. Many academics will assume you know the things they know about academia, merely by virtue of the fact that you have had long experience as a student. But being an undergrad is very different to being a research student. You are now a colleague in waiting – and need to act like one in order to be taken seriously.

Writings on academic sociology – of which there is a surprising amount – are a great place to start finding out all the things that no one thinks to tell you. However, we at the Whisperer know you have a lot of reading to do on nuclear fusion, global terrorism and such like, so we try to do this sort of reading for you.  Which is why I recently read with interest a book called “How professors think” by Michele Lamont.

“How professors think” is a fascinating and well written account of how humanities academics working on peer review panels come to decide which grant proposals they will fund. One of the things the author was interested in was how academics come to recognise excellence - both in academic work and in academics themselves. To this end she asked the panelists how they recognise a good peer review panelist. The answers revealed a hidden set of assumptions about what makes a good academic, which I think research students should heed.

The first thing mentioned was that a good panelist should show up fully prepared and ready to discuss the proposals. Those panelists who had carefully read the proposals – enough to be able to make thoughtful comments on them and argue their merits on the fly – were seen as most credible. Another desirable characteristic was the demonstration of intellectual breath and expertise, which stemmed from the command of large literatures in their field and some adjacent ones.

Along with this command of intellectual territory was the ability to be succinct and to respect other people’s expertise and sentiments. After encountering more than a few pompous windbags I know I have  appreciation for academics who can make their point quickly and clearly, then move on. There are very few people who can intelligently comment on what they know, but have the humbleness to be able to listen and recognise people who have more expertise.

So there you have it: “… preparedness, expertise, succinctness, intellectual depth and multidisciplinary breath and sensitivity to others”, as Lamont puts it, are highly valued – among top humanities scholars sitting on these peer review panels at least. I wouldn’t be surprised if these qualities translate more generally and into the sciences; I hope similar research is done to see if this is indeed the case. I suspect carefully cultivating these qualities and learning how to display them through appropriate expressive behaviour is the work of a lifetime, which is probably why many of the best of us are also the oldest.

It might be more helpful to think of these qualities as a set of principles for action, rather than a list, so I will leave you with a few questions. How might you go about applying the principles of preparedness, succinctness and sensitivity to others with your supervisor – or your colleagues? What actions display these qualities – and which do not?

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Top 5 phone apps for researchers

I love a good top 5 or 10 - the more opinionated the better. So, inspired by the What Ed Said blog I thought I would start a ‘top five Thursday’ post – dedicated to any kind of research related topic. This week I am doing a top five smart phone apps for researchers, which I have been wanting to write since so many people left such great comments on the earlier review of the ipad.

1) Number One has to be a PDF reader. You cannot beat carrying your entire research paper collection in your pocket and having the ability to read anything you fancy on the run. I don’t know about you, but I get most of my non critical reading done in places like trains and doctor’s surgeries, so this app increases my productivity no end. @TomCresswell recommended GoodReader for the iphone; I use Beamreader on Android, but there’s heaps of great free ones.

2) I use Book Catalogue Android app, not to keep track of my own home collection (I have Library Thing for that) but to collect ‘might be good to read at some point’ information from libraries, book shops and friend’s bookshelves. Whenever I see a book that’s interesting I snap the barcode with my camera and the phone connects to amazon, loads up full catalog information and displays it on my ‘virtual shelf’ automagically. Where it really starts to rock is the ability to add tags, ratings and various kinds of notes to entries. The ‘lent to’ function is brilliant for me as I am forever lending out copies of favourite books like  ‘how to write a better thesis’ to students, forgetting where they are and then buying a new one (which is why I have 5 copies and counting). A similar app for iphone would be book crawler or ibookshelf.

3) An internet browser. Ok that’s kind of lame and obvious, but consider this: yesterday I walked into my university library and it was full to the brim with undergraduates. All the terminals were taken up with kids looking at non cataloguey type things. Did I stand there, tapping my nearly 40 something foot at their selfishness, inwardly seething and making my blood pressure problem worse? No. I pulled out my phone, loaded up the RMIT library, found my book and marched off the the shelves. Genius. Oh you can check your email too

4) The Evernote app. I have on my desk a huge stack of papers – reports, forms, articles, notes to myself etc. I call this my ‘vertical filing system’ and spend large amounts of time searching through it to find stuff. It used to be just as much of a mess in my virtual world until Evernote rescued me from chaos. Basically Evernote is a free cloud computing service where you can upload website urls, bits of text, photos, pdfs etc onto an online server and tag it. The reason it’s awesome is that retrieving information works the way your memory does – by association. Just type in a vague keyword relating to the bit of information you are thinking of an bam – it appears. I mainly use it as a private blog, organised by subject rather than date. This app is why I keep forgetting to put a pen and paper in my bag anymore – much to my annoyance.

5) Loot or some other kind of money tracking app. I use this to record research project expenses so I can always see how much money was spent on what and how much is left. I am no longer living on my scholarship (thank god!) however, if like many PhD students you are living on a limited income, I could see an app like this could help you stay within budget on many fronts. There seem to be lots of cool budget apps for the iphone too.

So there you have it; if you are looking for an excuse for buying a smart phone I just gave you five – and I hope others will write in with more. Oh, and do write to us if you have a top five you’d like to share on any research related topic in a future post.

On life in the lab and failure

In early 2009 I was asked by a group of students from a famous medical science research institute to go on retreat with them. It seemed a good opportunity to parlay my skills in presenting doctoral education issues in return for a nice trip to the country. Sasha, one of the students, offered me a lift and during the drive we chatted about the life of a research student in a large laboratory.

Sasha was a new PhD student, but was older than many of her comrades because she had worked for over a decade as a lab tech and had mad lab skills. But it seemed this knowledge was a two edged sword as it also mean that other students often pestered her for help with their experiments, which made it hard for her to get as much done as she would like.

While Sasha was confident in her technical skills she was clearly troubled on a number of other fronts. She was worried that too much time as a lab tech had affected her ability for creative thinking and theory building. Her family relationships (particularly her ageing parents) precluded long hours in the lab. She had little interest in the drinking and partying that other students indulged in and so did not feel like a member of the ‘in crowd’.

During the drive I was struck by what seemed to be a consuming worry on Sasha’s part that the other students, even the more established research fellows, would steal her research topic and ideas away from her. I have to admit I wondered about whether Sasha’s fear of her ideas being stolen were pure paranoia, fuelled perhaps by the social distance between herself and the other students.

But after spending a day with all the students I decided that Sasha was actually quite balanced, at least compared to some of her colleagues.

During my talk I was regularly interrupted by questions on the ‘stealing’ theme. Some questions related to plagiarism by supervisors and how to deal with it; others concerned worries about how and when to publish such that ownership was established before others could claim it. Even after the presentation several students approached me with accusations of stealing by their supervisors or their fellow students.

I answered these questions about stealing with the same kind of soothing sentences that I would use with students in the humanities or the arts, such as: “Every PhD is like a finger print: you may do the same topic in an entirely different way to someone else”. But they just looked at me sceptically, obviously too polite to tell me straight out that I didn’t understand.

Towards the end of the presentation the discussion turned to the topic of failure – what about if your experiments don’t work? Would you fail your PhD? Again I tried answering using soothing lines like: “you need to design your PhD so that a ‘no’ answer still means you have something to say”. One student put up their hand and said that was all nice in theory, but failure did your career no good.

Although I work with scientists all the time, this experience made me realise that I don’t know them very well. Partly I suppose this is because of my different background (I used to be an architect), but mostly it is because I haven’t had much exposure to the everyday working life of  the scientist. In an ongoing effort to come to a better understanding I finally sat down and watched “Naturally Obsessed: the making of a scientist”, a documentary about PhD students in science which was recommended by @acidflask on Twitter.

What an interesting little film this is. Basically the documentary follows 3 students in a lab in a university in New York City working on understanding the processes involved in the body storing energy or spending it. This was ‘pure’ research, but had obvious applications in developing drugs, for instance to fight obesity.

Throughout the film the students and their teacher talk a lot about the nature of scientific practice and the pressure to make discoveries before others and publish in the top journals. At one point one of the scientists remarks: “Some of the problems we are studying might never have answers - we just don’t know”. I couldn’t help contrasting it with my own experience of doing a PhD. I just observed classroom behaviour: there was no way I could ‘fail’ to get results because all I had to do was write about what I saw. I realised I had it easy!

Only two of the three students get a PhD by the end of the film, but it was the student who makes the breakthrough who ends up with a prestigious post doctoral post at the end, while the others end up in private industry (probably earning more money!). Other people have crticized the way the film presents this successful student as more obsessed than the others. But I can’t help thinking back to my trip to the country with Sasha and her colleagues and the pressure they all felt to perform. There’s a reason for this – obsession is obviously rewarded, as it is in so many other walks of life (architecture being no exception by the way – there’s a reason I no longer do it).

There is a worrying culture of silence around the issue of PhD non completion, probably because it is seen as a kind of ‘failure’. But perhaps a non completion can also be understood as a success? At least I think it is if the person is happier and has their life back. I have come around to thinking that offering advice to people facing this kind of pressure to help them to cope is not the answer at all. I would have been better off to ask these science students to carefully consider whether the costs outweighed the benefits and what they think ‘success’ in life really is. What do you think?