Biophysical Society Bulletin | January 2023

President’s Message

Taking Stock In Wisconsin the season is chang ing hard now, the hummingbirds and orioles long gone, most of the Canadian songbirds having flown through, many surreptitious ly under the cover of night. The tundra swans have arrived on Lake Mendota, where they will rest and feed until the last pools of open water freeze over. The barred owls are hooting their family plans and

I want to think I am becoming a better mentor with time. I know from staying in touch with former trainees that there were some rocky times. For some, their experiences with me became the fodder for jokes at the dinner table of a Gordon Conference, fortunately in my presence (as far as I know) and with a bit of affection. With others, I flat-out asked for forgiveness for moments of unkindness or applying unhelpful pressure. Generally, those moments reflected my own inse curities. Perhaps if as an assistant professor I’d had access to articles like “Ten simple rules towards healthier research labs” (Maestre, F. T. 2019. PLoS Comput. Biol. 15(4): e1006914. https:/doi.org/10.1371/journal.pcbi.1006914), I would have done a better job. To colleagues who developed such guide lines, often amid peers who were less generous and from an earlier time, I applaud you. It takes surprising courage to express your humanity. Still, mentors lose sleep over perceived lack of trainee productivity or scholarship or super-glued adherence to the lab bench. We worry that students are different now, less hungry. We all have stories of heroism in the cause of our own achievements, working 60–80 hours, eating and sleeping in the lab. But I am 99% certain our memories of our efforts have become inflated like reports of every fish ever caught. What is ignored in these historical accounts are the tardy morning arrivals after nights spent playing Risk over too many beers, or the months of angst at the electrophysiology rig waiting for the next morsel of data to be dropped like a letter from an owl over the Hogwarts dining table. How about the month you spent mountain climbing—annually? Our selective memories also minimize the long stretches of time it can take to learn a technique, get data, and finally understand what it means. They don’t account for the time it takes to grow, sometimes with little external evidence of the process. These are the shadowed years in the life of a trainee. Over Thanksgiving, I was inspired by the book The Traveling Feast (2018. Kindle edition. Little, Brown, and Company, Boston) by Rick Bass , a Montana writer. He embarked on a “pilgrimage of gratitude” to cook dinner for those he consid ers his mentors, people who directly trained him or influenced him through conversations or their published works. He would take one or two of his own trainees, aspiring writers themselves, to help him prepare the meal and ask questions of the legendary authors. While setting up in the host’s kitch en, words of admiration for the natural surrounding beauty was a common theme, as were observations about the particulars of the writer’s studio or office. After dinner, there were recollections of bad habits abandoned in the name of better health, or ruminations of relationships, lost and found. There were lessons to be learned.

Gail Robertson

occasionally imperiling our small dog, Libby. This is the time, between Thanksgiving and the New Year, when I think about taking stock. Before Elon Musk broke Twitter, or before I quite realized the gravity of the situation, I sent out one of my usual inquiries to the Twitterverse asking for colleagues’ pending resolutions: For the coming year, are you taking stock of your approach to science or mentoring? What changes will you make to increase your impact or improve the lives around you? Where will you find your inspiration? Radio silence. Or, perhaps, the sounds of keyboards clicking like little feet scurrying to Mastodon (or some other social media app). Finally, I received responses from two valued (and Twitter-stalwart) colleagues, bless their hearts. Margaret Cheung , from the Pacific Northwest National Laboratory, said what has been on a lot of our minds: “I think COVID has nega tively impacted the career trajectories of young trainees who depend on professional networking to advance their opportu nities in science. I will be mindful to broaden the definition of success and actively support nonacademic careers after PhD.” The exuberant Nele Vandersickel from Ghent University wrote, “I want my team to shine, not me. I want to make choices together with them, moving science and our project forward in the most efficient way, yet being relaxed and happy. I want to show that science is not a competition but an amazing collaboration. And kick out all the rules!” My thoughts, too, are turning to mentoring, and how to be better at it. Recently, Whitney Stevens-Sostre received the lab’s 10th PhD, round with her imminent first child, the reason to stop luxuriating in perfectionism and pragmatically bang the thesis out. It turns out she was more than ready to defend her thesis, and now she can get on with the business of being a scientist, interweaved with motherhood. Margaret Jameson will follow as #11 in the coming weeks. Our students are more capable than we typically recognize. What they need more than anything is to see what is possible, and the con fidence we can instill in their ability to succeed. And then we need to get out of their way, making room for all that follows.

January 2023

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