Biophysical Society Bulletin | June 2022

President’s Message

You Can Go Your OwnWay Sometimes I wonder why so many PhD and postdoctoral trainees go into industry or public policy rather than academic science. Sure, who doesn’t want new therapeutics and a longer lifespan, but as a graduate student considering a career, the last thing I wanted was a boss. My department chair and dean might take offense, but they both know what I mean.

The more common rewards are in making new discoveries that fuel your research for years to come, with lots of new insights; shepherding your trainees through their intellectual and personal journeys as successful scientists; and having a high-impact career giving you just enough flexibility to protect your children from becoming feral. Oh, and making more money than any of your trainees know, unless they look you up in public records. On a virtual seminar visit to a major research institution last year, the usual lunch meeting with trainees quickly focused on a central question: how do you establish yourself in a com petitive field? It happened that all five were postdocs doing single-particle cryo-EM, but there are many fields where trainees similarly feel that the “really smart people” are ask ing “all the good questions.” How can they possibly compete? Some scientists come by it naturally, but many successful ones have had to learn. Here’s my advice: train your unwaver ing gaze on your data like a vexing crossword puzzle or a love interest whose thoughts you’re sure must be deeper. Don’t wait to examine your data until you’ve turned those current traces into inactivation time constants represented by means and standard errors; at that point you might have assessed your hypothesis but missed unexpected, more important effects. Maybe there are questions waiting to be answered in your cryo-EM structures, yielding testable hypotheses about dynamics. You never know, one of these observations might uncover a new target for disease or therapeutic interven tion or illuminate a whole new field of basic inquiry. Equally important, they may engender self-confidence that you have what it takes to follow the data, generate critical hypotheses, and embrace your scientific creativity. So how do you do it? Fight paralysis and get busy. Try stuff. Those experiments aren’t gonna conduct themselves. Even if it’s not true for Saturday night’s date, your data might hold deep and nuanced answers to questions you haven’t even asked. Start with simpler questions that yield testable hypotheses. Don’t avoid careful planning and experimental design. Pivot without resistance when necessary. Read like crazy, including outside your field, so your mind is prepared when something unexpected happens, when one of your controls goes wonky. And when it does, follow that lead. There. You’re on your way. I think you want to be an academic scientist, but you’re afraid. Have a little faith in you.

Gail Robertson

Seriously, I am proud to have mentored many trainees on a path to successful non-academic careers to which they are well suited. Some hold high-level positions in pharma and medical device companies. Two are in federal regulatory agencies. One previous student is now Deputy Executive Di rector of Rainforest Action Network, calling out corporations for destroying critical ecosystems and exploiting vulnerable human populations working in subhuman conditions. She actually is saving the world. But in this column, I want to focus on the trainee still con sidering all options, and I’m making a full-throated case for academic science. As a faculty member at a research-inten sive university, I decide what warrants investment of my time, and the opportunity to observe and create new science waits around every corner. I use my privilege to find the resources to pursue questions that compel me or members of my team. If I bring in plenty of research funding, my department chair and dean pretty much leave me alone. Some days I fail. Some days are hard. It takes perseverance, but it’s easier than you think. If I may offer some unsolicited advice to aspiring independent scientists, your first task is to ignore your mentor’s constant complaining about grant writing and workloads. Treat them as you would a fussy baby who fights sleep in the crib or a pandemic puppy who is training you to feed him from the table. Your supervisor is probably just feeling guilty for how hard you work and wants you to think that she is suffering as well. It’s too bad the conversations aren’t more like: “I woke up in the middle of the night with a conceptual breakthrough on my grant, and I’m feeling really good about that” or “Have you planned your vacation yet? I’m going to take three weeks climbing in Patagonia, because I can!” How about, “The results of your experiment are going to win me the Nobel Prize!” I exaggerate, but you get the idea. It’s a good gig.

June 2022

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