Erin Andrews is trying to sell me probiotics.1 She is walking through a bustling gym wearing a sharp blazer and a fresh blow out. Male patrons gawk. She bubbles that the euphoric powers of probiotics can improve digestion and immunity. She takes probiotics, and she has grown tall, healthy, and has a sweet gig interviewing football players. And now every gym member is clamoring to get a slice of that probiotic pie.
The pounding starts at 7:00 AM every morning outside my house here in Pittsburgh, and it’s been like that for 8 months now. Every weekday, whether it’s a backhoe ripping through asphalt, a jackhammer shredding up the concrete, or a buzz saw dicing the sidewalk, there is a plethora of noise that I wake up to as they dig holes on my street. And why are they digging these holes? To fix a larger hole – a sinkhole.
When my advisor informed her assembled advisees that I was the group’s “machine learning expert,” I nearly choked. I thought I had a pretty good idea of what expertise looked like. An expert possesses a deep, intuitive understanding of his or her subject. An expert exudes confidence in his or her abilities and reputation. An expert fields detailed questions without batting an eyelid. What an expert most certainly does not look like, I thought, is a clueless amateur of a Ph.D. student.
My lofty image of expertise was not my own invention – our society has an unhealthy tendency to fetishize experts. We see the degree of knowledge possessed by professors and analysts and TED speakers as almost mystical. We speak in awed whispers of their brilliance and intuition. And of course, the praise is often well-deserved; I don’t mean to suggest that there is no such thing as expertise. But the way we idolize experts does great damage to experts and novices alike. Continue reading
It’s World Cup time, and around the world football and soccer fans are lining up to complain about how stupid the word “soccer” is. 31 of the world’s best footballing nations (and England) came to Brazil for a chance at glory and honor in the world’s favorite pastime. While many of the people in the U.S.A. may have only watched by accident, chances are good that you saw something remarkable this year. No, it’s not the US watching soccer once the cup’s over – that has no chance of happening. Take a look at this free kick (I humbly suggest muting the video and watching the first 45 seconds):
In fourth grade, my classmates and I were assigned a project. We were to research our favorite animal at the local library, and give a presentation on this animal to the rest of the class. When it was time for our presentations, most of my classmates excitedly gabbed about lions, tigers, humpback whales, or dolphins. I went in front of the class to present my favorite animal, the weasel.
Part 5: Lessons Learned and Coming Home
All we have to do now is wait for our shuttle back to the airport. Around me there are all sorts of scientists who look just how I feel: Tired and ready to go home for some relaxation, but also anxious and ready to get back into the lab and work on some of the ideas that they got from the conference. A number of them also look like they have hangovers that could slay the most alcohol-tolerant of English dockworkers. So, you know, a pretty successful week, overall. I had a great time at the conference. It was very interesting, but also quite a bit of work for me. Even after two years of working on this system, there is just so much more to know about how sea urchins grow and develop. It can be a bit overwhelming, but I know that if other people here can understand it, then in the future I can too. I hope that next time I have a talk to give, because it really seems like talking to these people about my work would be extremely exciting and rewarding.
Part 4: The Last of the Talks & a Poster Session
I’d like to take a moment to talk more generally about the dinners here. Not about the food, mind you, but about the people. For example, as people arrived on the first day, they would unload their stuff as quickly as they could to get to the dining hall. Yes, they we hungry, but more often they were coming in to see who was already there. Almost all of the professors in the sea urchin community know each other, either from past meetings or from having worked in the same labs before, as graduate students and post-doctoral fellows. And so there was a distinct reunion vibe to this first dinner that was a bit infectious. I remember one woman walking in with her bags and looking around. When she saw someone she knew, she dropped her bags and ran across the room to give him a hug and start a conversation. While these people email and call each other fairly frequently, they only get to see each other at this meeting, which only happens once every eighteen months or so. It doesn’t matter that they’re scientists, they still treat this meeting as a great opportunity to catch up with old friends. One really interesting way this manifests is that the PIs often all sit together at two or three tables in the corner, so that they can all keep talking at every meal. Also, at dinner tonight, I had the apparently revolutionary idea to walk along the whole dinner buffet to decide what I wanted to eat before getting into line. I find it fascinating that people that are generally very careful can go to dinner, get their food, then sit at a table with their friends and say, “Oh, shoot, they had corn bread? Why did I fill my plate with salad?”