Your adviser is the driving instructor

In a previous post, “working for myself,” I drew an analogy between driving and doing research as faculty. The next obvious question would be “How do I know as a faculty where I should drive to?” It is not easy to know that, it takes years to figure that out (I am still figuring out, maybe some do it sooner). A PhD training plays an invaluable role in this.

Role of your adviser

Consider your doctoral program a well-known driving school and your PhD adviser a renowned driving instructor. Their main and perhaps only duty is to teach you how to drive (do research). Sure, you can learn driving from your parents, neighbors, or the distant cousin who is visiting from Canada. But learning from a good driving school prepares you for real driving on the bumpy roads of life (getting your hands dirty with real data) and not just in the parking lot or in simulated roads on video games (made-up data we sometimes use to practice statistics in class). Sometimes, your adviser is a big-shot training instructor. In that case, other lab members such as senior PhD students and postdocs take you out for a ride to teach you those driving skills. So it is important that you have a good relationship with everyone in the lab. Your adviser doesn’t just teach you how to drive. They let you go to conferences where you showcase your driving skills in front of an audience. They write grants and get you funding so that you always have fuel in your car. They write you good recommendation letters so that other places can hire you as drivers. They advise you when your car isn’t running well or your engine is making a funny sound and you need to troubleshoot. They give you a pep talk on days when it is snowing outside and you don’t feel motivated enough to drive. They teach you life-saving skills such as changing lanes, looking at your blind spot, racing, parking on mountains, parking downhill, and avoiding drunk drivers on the freeway.

Couple of other things that happen in your PhD training

1. You take coursework. Consider courses as the tools that help you to be able to do research. If you are training as a driver, it will help to know a little bit about the mechanics, the nuts and bolts, where the engine is, how the brakes operate, how the radiator works, how to change a flat tire, and why driving in a certain way may be better than driving another way. Coursework just doesn’t teach you the skills to drive, but also the knowhow to stop, park, check engine oil or maintain the car.

2. You build collaborations with your peers and other professors. In the world of research, carpooling is way more fun than driving singly. Sometimes, you get more gas/petrol (funding) if you are able to show that if you are carpooling (collaborating), rather than taking a lonely trip from Seattle to Boston and not being fuel-efficient. Gas stations most certainly frown upon single drivers. But how do you ensure that you get along with the other carpoolers and don’t end up going for each other’s throats on the freeway? Graduate school lets you find other drivers you might get along with. Big gas stations (funding agencies) like the NIH and NSF will not even give you any fuel if you are young and applying singly or as the main driver. That’s when established professors will be on the driving seat and you in the passenger seat.

3. You identify mentors in other professors. Remember, you have the closest relationship with your own driving instructor. But sometimes, they are too busy or gone. Sometimes, you don’t get along with them. Sometimes, they do not know a skill that you need to know because driving regulations have changed in your generation. That is when the other mentors ensure that you continue to do well and your car(eer) doesn’t stall in the middle of the freeway.

Your research agenda

Your primary research agenda is usually an offshoot of your adviser’s research agenda (it could be different, but I am speaking from my experience). You spend maximum time with your dissertation data that is based on your adviser’s project and research interest. Let’s say for my PhD, my adviser trained me to figure out the shortest, safest, and the most fuel-efficient way to drive from Seattle to Mount Rainier National Park. I demonstrated to my dissertation committee that my car runs fine, I can check blind spots, I don’t get killed while driving on I-5, don’t run out of fuel, and can apply the proper gears and brakes depending on road or weather conditions. Now the fruit doesn’t usually fall too far from the tree. So after this, perhaps my own independent research could look into how to find an optimal route that connects all three national parks in Washington State in the most efficient way. I create that knowledge for other people to use. Or maybe now, I base my research on a real-life problem, for example, why do most people who take a particular smaller state freeway from Mount Rainier to Mount St. Helens after sunset get killed. If I never took that Seattle to Mount Rainier training for my PhD, I would have never figured out how to move ahead in life from Mount Rainier. I would not even have reached Mount Rainier.

And the convocation ceremony? Consider it as a public event where your adviser officially gives you your driving license. He comes wearing his driver’s uniform and you wear yours. The world rejoices, your parents fly to attend the ceremony beaming with pride and wiping tears of happiness, and some big-shot celebrity driver comes to give the convocation speech.    

I am waiting for the day I will be sitting in the main driving seat as the principal investigator (PI), my adviser and other colleagues in the passenger seat as co-PIs, and together, we will drive around the world with tons of fuel supplied by the NIH or NSF looking at interesting research problems.

sunshine

Building your processor while in graduate school

I spent a lot of time during my PhD resisting whatever my adviser would say. He had a clear plan for me to graduate on time, but I was the one who did not believe that I could meet my graduation deadline. As a result, we argued a lot.

Once we were arguing about my scintillating academic life (or the lack of it) and how much coursework would be enough to make me a desirable PhD candidate when I start job hunting. We started our conversation about job hunting pretty early, at around 6 months into my PhD, when my peers were still comfortably settling in. “I never want you to feel comfortable or settled in. That way, you will never graduate,” he said bluntly.

We were arguing because my adviser wanted me to take as many methods/statistics courses as I can. Being able to analyze and make sense of large-scale data is vital in my field. I think I eventually took 5 levels of statistics courses and 3 levels of qualitative methodology courses alone other than the core courses and a mixed-methods class. I made a face and told him that I do not want to drown in methods courses, that I would learn on my own or take online classes later. To that, he gave me a great analogy that I will paraphrase because I found some wisdom in what he said.

This is what he said. In graduate school, we are like a computer processor in the making. With new courses, we get to learn new skills and thereby build our processors. Our configuration is constantly improving. We get to take classes, write exams, get feedback (from the instructors) and interact with peers that are great ways to learn new skills. By the time we are out of graduate school, the features in our processor are set. It is not malleable anymore. Sure, we can go for an external upgrade, adding a feature every now and then by auditing a class or attending a conference. But these are external features. The core has already been built by then.

Graduate school learning builds the core, the inherent qualities of a researcher. Therefore it is important to take every remotely relevant methodological course, write exams (and not just audit courses), and learn every new skill we hesitate to learn (because we are too afraid to fail) fooling ourselves into believing that we will learn them once we get a job. Graduate training is the only chance to build the processor from the scratch. The rest gets added along the way. One can afford to skip a "Writing literature review" class because that is a skill one can pick along the way. However, one cannot afford to skip a class on methodology. So go take that class because it is already paid for, and because once you graduate, you will never get to take a class again, not this way.

I don’t understand much of computers or technology (other than what I need for work), but I loved his analogy. Years after finishing graduate school, I see the value in what he said. No more arguments after that, I buried myself building my processor, and I have not regretted it. Although I do not apply the methodological know-how in everyday work life, I know enough about it to be able to navigate my way around. For example, I do not dabble with differential item functioning or item response theory every day. However, when I read a paper that did those, I do not have the “deer in the headlights” look. I exactly know what they are talking about. 

Listen to your adviser (not blindly though). For they may be as clueless about your future as you are, but given their vast experience, chances are less that they will give bad advice. 

sunshine   

Some light at the end of a tunnel vision

The latter part of this week has been significant in many ways, and overwhelming, to say the least. By Wednesday, I was told that I have passed my comprehensive exams, clearing the stage 3 in my 5-stage PhD. I was snowed in on Thursday, and I wrote my first page of dissertation sitting in my sunny kitchen. By Friday, I had already met with the adviser, finalized my dissertation research question, formed my PhD committee, and set up a date for my defense proposal. Knowing the bearings of academic life, I wouldn’t be surprised if all this took weeks, but ever since I have returned home from Calcutta, I have immersed myself with my hunger to analyze data and get my dissertation rolling. I have five conference presentations in the US and (possibly) Canada in the next eight months. I still do not have a job, but I have been prolific in my job search. Needless to say, things look very busy, but things look optimistic too.

When a friend called to congratulate me Wednesday night, I told her that passing the comprehensives was never an issue, that it was doing a stellar job that was the challenge. For one, my adviser would not let me take the exams if he did not think that I was ready. She said that was not the case everywhere. She had anecdotal stories of people she knew who got thrown out of the PhD program right after their comprehensives. There were no statistics to back up what she said, but things went wrong nevertheless, especially if you did not get along with your adviser, if your adviser was not tenured and was competing with you for publications, or if your adviser did not have your best interests in mind. So many anecdotal stories of advisers making you mow their lawns, care for their pets, and spend Sundays in lab make it into PhD tea table discussions. At the end of our conversation, I was left with a sense of gratitude for the person who has pushed me so far.

Bear no misconception that I have had it easy. It is an intense program, and this is my 29^th month running. While the average guy dreams of getting out in 5 or 6 years, maybe 4, I am doing it in a few months short of 3 years. Does this mean I am doing half the work that someone in a 6-year PhD program does? No. On the contrary, I am doing the same work at double the speed. Does this mean I was exempt from taking courses, since I had two masters degree already? The answer is no again. Since I made a major shift in field from biological science to social science, I was required to take every course. In 4 semesters (2 years), I completed 54 credits of coursework that roughly translates to 18 courses, or 4.5 courses/semester. Most of these courses were hardcore, grueling methodological courses, statistical data analysis, qualitative data analysis, data management, you name it. Then there was research, there were conference presentations. There were papers written for publication, and the first one is in press after revisions. There was networking. I am even in charge of running a project as an administrator. And all this was made possible because of the right training.

I started looking for jobs right from the end of first year of my PhD. You would wonder why. I was looking, not applying. The requirements for these potential jobs gave me an idea of what potential employees are looking for. It helped me tailor my PhD to take the right courses, learn the right statistical software, and prepare myself for the job market. Of course I did not have this perspective, but my adviser did. And bear no misconception that he is the nicest man sitting in his office and advising lost people like me. He is extremely successful and hence busy, almost a grant churning machine, with seldom any patience for mistakes or stupidity, and is the last person who will sing praises of you. For me, there were disagreements, there were bitter conversations, there were tears, and self-doubt, and times when I wanted to give up. I did not know why he was so hard on me, why he would criticize my work, why he would make relentless academic demands. Of course I see the point now. There were times when he was not in the best of his mood, and it was an ordeal talking to him. I am still somewhat terrified of him, but now, I have enough of a research agenda to be able to move independently and not look up to him for his approval every time. The person who has been so critical of my work was the same person who was sitting amongst the audience when I made my first presentation at an international conference last year. Every time a person asked a question to prove how smart he is and how dumb I am, my adviser would jump to my rescue, leveling him down. He has been fiercely critical of me in office and fiercely protective of me outside. The point is, he cared, and he still does.

So back to my point, what little I have achieved is mostly attributed to my hard work, and to my adviser, who steered me in the right direction, who had the foresight of putting me in challenging situations, and most importantly, who had the vested interest to see me succeed, and graduate on time. Advising is somewhat of a parenting relationship, with the difference that we choose our advisers. However, we seldom know what we are getting into when we choose our universities, our programs, or our advisers. So there is no point in saying, choose wisely. However, it is critical that you pick up those little nuggets of wisdom people throw at you every now and then- your adviser, other professors, colleagues, seniors, and contemporaries. On this thought, I need to go and get some more work done.  

I took the picture this morning from the window by my study as I wrote this post. The snow and ice hasn't melted yet.

sunshine

A PhD Post

Mentorship is a two-way process, where you shape your adviser as he shapes you. I am living proof of that. The last few weeks have been the turning point of my PhD. For those of you who do not know, I am at the fag end of my second year in the PhD program. This is when you are done with your coursework, and are beginning to think of some nice ideas, one of which could potentially turn into a dissertation. In my field of research, we usually do two kinds of studies- qualitative and quantitative. There is a third kind, the mixed-methods approach, where you mix both qualitative and quantitative data to validate each other. Quantitative studies heavily rely on data analyzed through statistics and number crunching, while qualitative studies rely on making meaning of the experiences of people through observations, interviews, focus group discussions, ethnography studies, et cetera. One approach is not necessarily better than the other, and you need to understand both methods in order to address a research question well.

            My research group is heavy on quantitative analysis. There are a couple of reasons for that. Your sample size can be way larger in a quantitative data set (tens of thousands sometimes), the sophistication of the statistical software can make you run analyses in less time, and overall, your rate of publication is higher when you do quantitative work. Clearly, the numbers speak for themselves, and that is why my group has always relied on quantitative dissertations.

            I was expected to do a quantitative dissertation from day one. My adviser is a hard taskmaster and makes you takes every possible course on methodology. It is hard, doing all that work, and I have seen myself screaming through semesters when I was taking four methods courses at a time. In graduate school, taking four courses per semester is a challenge; you can imagine what taking four methods courses would be like. I have taken the entire 3-series qualitative coursework, 5-series quantitative coursework, and various other courses related to item response theory, multilevel modeling, and so on. I have had to learn using Stata, SPSS, Genova, NVivo, and Atlas Ti from scratch. Anyway, I ended up taking a lot of these quant courses, and realized my heart was not really in there. I could run regression models and stuff, I could learn to live with that, but not love that. On the other hand, I took the qualitative courses and loved them.

            The first time my adviser learned about my newfound love for qualitative analysis, he asked me to change advisers. Clearly this is what none of his students had done before, and he was skeptical. I would be crazy to change advisers at this stage, I love this research group, so I assured him that I would do a quantitative dissertation. We were collecting a lot of qualitative data for an NIH funded study, and with my background in the biosciences and public health, I found myself attracted to that data. I would randomly do some preliminary analysis, while still looking for a quantitative research idea. This went on for a few more months. My adviser was supposed to go to an annual conference in California, a big one for sure, and I asked him if I could come. He said no, and then gave it a thought and asked me what I would do there. I said I had done some preliminary analysis and could present it to him, so that he could decide. I told him that it was qualitative data analysis. I just wanted to attend the conference and visit California, hoping to make some contacts there. I did not hope for anymore.

            The adviser gave me an evening, and asked me to present my data to him the next morning. I had an evening, which is nothing when you have to present your findings. People spend days preparing their presentations. He said that I could come with him if I could impress him. I spent that evening putting some more thought and rationale into my data analysis, and presented it to him next morning sharp at 10 am. He had some thoughts, he asked some questions, and told me to do some more. He was about to leave when I asked him if I could come to California. He told me I am on board.

            I was thrilled. I spent more time into this analysis, aware that I will have to soon go back to my quantitative dissertation idea. I kept working hard at this and showing him my analysis, knowing that I had a very limited amount of time with this dataset. I still did not have a dissertation idea.

            About 2 weeks ago, my adviser approved of me doing either a wholly qualitative dissertation, or a mixed-method dissertation. He told me that I have changed his opinion about what his graduate students’ dissertation profile should look like, replete with quantitative data analysis. He reminded me of the risks I am taking being the first one in his team to do qualitative work. This has been the single most pivotal moment in my PhD career. From the day when he asked me to change advisers because I liked qualitative work to this day when he said I will be the first one in his team to do something new, I have come a long way from where I was. I never really had any expectation of him changing his mind. However, I kept doing something I am good at, and things unfolded for me serendipitously.

            I have secured a place in the California conference. I have finally decided on my dissertation topic, after 6 months of banging my head against the wall. Most importantly, I have realized that although there is a prescribed route to success that everyone before me has followed, there is also value in determining my own way based on my interests without taking the road stalwarts have taken before me. I will carve out my own niche, doing something my group has never done before. It may or may not be kick ass, like Eric Cartman would say. However, that for me is the true essence of education- authenticity, uniqueness, and doing something different with all my love.

sunshine

I Proposed … They Accepted

Last year this time, I was 2 months into my PhD program. I was fretting about my preliminary exam due in the next 3 months. I was struggling with learning to critique papers and write literature reviews.

The same time this year, I finished my qualifiers. Then I proposed, and they accepted. Not once, or twice, but thrice. This summer, I sent out 3 proposals for 2 national conferences. Academic daddy had made it clear that if I wanted to attend these conferences, I had to make sure that I had a research agenda, wrote a good proposal, and it got accepted. Fair deal. I was extra keen on getting accepted, since one of the conference venues was international. Hence, I sent out 2 proposals. Just to make sure I ended up going somewhere at least, I sent the last one to another conference.

One by one, all three of them got accepted in the last 4 days. First, it was the joy of delivering twins, and yesterday, I got the news they were actually triplets. When I checked the website for reviews, what I saw was a miracle. For one of my proposals, both my peer reviewers had rejected it based on certain methodological flaws. However, the editors still went ahead and accepted it because the topic was important enough, and flaws could be fixed. My last one made it despite a 100% rate of rejection.

Needless to say, I have been on cloud 9. As a student 14 months into the program, I had not even hoped for a single acceptance. However, I no longer attribute it to the lack of confidence or experience. When you are so new to the program, sometimes you do not know how important your findings are. I analyzed my data, looked at my findings with nonchalance and thought to myself, “Whatever”. My adviser looked at it and got really excited about the findings. That day, I realized that although I was learning to analyze data, I had still not developed the eye to chaff good data from bad data. I looked at diamonds and thought they were just stones.

Today, I write this post as a tribute to my academic daddy once again. I have not had many academic role models in my life, but one fine day, I just got lucky. Like my data, one fine day, I found a gem of an adviser and didn’t realize it until I started to see the results of his advising. He has pushed me to the best of my abilities, and there were times when I was stressed, unhappy, and disillusioned. However, this has been a part of the rigorous training. And this reminds me of a quote from Newton,

“If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.”

For once, I do not feel the stress of the possibility of not finding a job. I will exult in the current achievements, get those suckers out for publication (my papers I mean), and try finishing the PhD aee ess aee pee now.

sunshine

Daddy knows best

Last semester, who else but academic daddy asked me to take 2 core courses in statistics together. This was along with many other courses I was taking. I was baffled, scared of failing, and wondered why he would urge me to take 2 heavy courses together, when others in the department took their own sweet time to finish them. I tried to resist, reason, argue, even sweet talk into wriggling out of this predicament, but daddy is not really renowned for being very easy going. I was definitely in for some fun times ahead.

The semester was a nightmare. I struggled for hours every day, trying to finish the assignments, trying to understand the Greek and Hebrew the theory behind both courses were, and tried to understand the logic behind why God selected me, an unsuspecting innocent who has never willingly meant any harm to anyone, to go through this suffering. Thursdays were a nightmare, with 6 hours of classes, and I was amongst very few in the department who took both courses together. More than once, I have feared failing in one or both, and have shuddered at the thought, knowing how daddy would feel about it. I could go on and on describing my pain.

Magically, I passed both courses at the end of the semester. I had cried in anguish after it took me hours of effort to finish the finals for both courses. The day I submitted both exams (yeah, to make it worse, both courses had close deadlines for the finals), I had slumped defeated, too numb to realize I had put two core courses behind me. I had felt so lightweight once I was done, that the feeling itself was surreal. I did well in both courses.

It was time to thank daddy. Throughout the semester, I was convinced that I was going to fail. Right now, while most students are to go through the torture of taking the advanced course, I am done with it. I am on to more difficult advanced courses now, but that is a different story. The reason why daddy pushed me to take both became clear much later. First, I used the knowledge acquired by taking both to get some serious research done this summer, when I did not have the pressure of taking courses. If I did not have both stats courses under my belt, my research achievements this summer would be limited. More importantly, something happened that was beyond the scope of my understanding. This summer, the professor for one of the two advanced level courses left to take up another job elsewhere. I had no way of knowing this would happen (perhaps daddy did), but my peers who were hoping to take the course next semester will have to wait for a while now.

The moral of the story: Listen to your daddy, even if you do not agree with him. For he might be as clueless about your life, abilities, and your difficulties as you are, but given his experience in general, chances are less likely that he will screw up.

sunshine

Working on a configuration upgrade?

I cannot help but notice that these days, my blog is all about PhDism. I know how annoying it can get for someone whose life doesn’t significantly revolve around a PhD. It is an irritable feeling akin to reading those gushy mushy status updates from new moms who, from breastfeeding to the texture of poop, cannot stop themselves from discussing anything under the mommyhood sky. On a side side note (anti-mommy updates being the side note here), I realize I have now opened up my blog for some sex seeking desperate people on the internet who end up at this blog while looking for keywords like breast, sex, or even car mein zabardasti [I have a cool way of tracking what words people were looking for when they landed on my blog], but I digress here. My post was neither about the activities of pornsters on the prowl, nor was about women who cannot stop showing off their newly acquired motherhood status. My post was very much about me, my academic daddy, and the amazing gyaan he gives me gratis that makes me want to rechristen this American dude as Sant Gyani Singh. No matter how intimidating and academically charismatic he is, once in a while he never fails me amuse me with the plethora of gyaan he has to offer.

We were arguing about my scintillating academic life (or the lack of it) and about how many courses I should be taking to make myself a coveted candidate while I am out there job hunting (I don’t believe he is discussing job hunting already, and I have been like 8 months into my program). The story goes that I made a face when he said he wants me to take 6 levels of statistics courses and 3 levels of qualitative methodology courses. That is a lot, given any standards, ensuring I have to take 4-5 core courses every semester. Some of them are not even required courses, and the problem of crossing the age of 16 or all this “living and thinking independently” jazz of an American life is that sometimes you don’t listen to academic daddies, and wrongly believe that you know more about your academic well being than your daddy does. Anyway, I will paraphrase what he told me, and I will take the effort of doing this because I believe this gyaan will benefit at least some of you who are trying to do a Ph.D and don’t argue with academic daddy as often as I do.

While in graduate school, you are like a computer processor in the making. As you take classes and learn new skill sets, you are constantly enhancing the features of your processor. Your configuration is constantly improving. You take classes, write exams, and learn new skills. However once you are out of graduate school, out there in the job market, the features in your processor have been determined, and you cannot change it. Sure you can go for those external upgrades, adding a feature every now and then by auditing a class or attending a conference, but these are external features. What you learn in graduate school goes in building your core, your inherent qualities of a researcher. Hence, it is very important for you to take every remotely relevant course, take exams (and not just audit courses), learn new skills, and do everything that you hesitate to learn and fool yourself into believing that you will learn once you get a job. Anything you want to be in life after PhD, graduate school is the only chance you will get to build your processor from the scratch. The rest of it gets added along the way, but only as additional features. So go take that class because once you graduate, you will never get to take a class again, no matter how much you want.

I don’t understand much of computers or technology, but I loved his analogy. Hence, these days I am found neck-deep in course work and assignments, building my processor before they tell me that the model has been outdated again. And finally, I learnt an important thing from this conversation. I learnt that it is awesome to have a smart, geeky, and technocratic physicist for an academic daddy.

sunshine

Perspective

This semester, I am taking two advanced level statistics courses together. Usually the department spreads it out for students so that students take one statistics course at a time, but academic daddy wanted me to get the stats courses out of my way so that I can start analyzing data and publishing soon. I would have never thought of this idea, but when he asked me to, I cribbed, sulked, even tried to reason with him. Each course is demanding and challenging in its own way, replete with homework, assignments, projects, and exams. However, as you would have rightly guessed, it is futile to argue reason with the advisor. It takes less cognitive load to just do what he says.

Starting this year, my weekdays were inundated with stats. I call Thursday my “statistically significant” day, with classes from 9 am continuing right until 5 pm. It would get so tiring that I would cancel workouts later on, head home, and fall asleep out of sheer fatigue. Then there are assignments every week that involves hours of learning to use SPSS and getting work done. My life was suddenly full of big words like heteroscedasticity, multinomial regression, and linear modeling. It wasn’t terribly unbearable, but I wish I could have spread it over subsequent semesters instead of having an indigestion over a stat-enriched diet.

I was in class early morning, really early. At 7 am, I had reached for the 9 am class. I had a midterm later in the afternoon and I had spent a sleepless night cramming. To ensure I don’t fall asleep in the wee hours of dawn, I had showered, and reached the class 2 hours in advance to study some more. As far as I know, there is only one person in the same boat as I was in, taking both the statistics classes together. Everyone else just took one course. He soon joined me in class, and we started sharing woeful thoughts about the impending midterms later in the day. Staying awake at night made me so cranky that I started to crib about how miserable my life was, how I was missing out on a chunk of socializing and having fun because I was always under pressure to finish the assignments for both classes. It’s not that these were the only two classes I was taking, I was taking five courses in all and producing research as well. He asked me why I was taking it if I was so unhappy, and I told him how it was the brilliant idea of my advisor. The momentous time came then and I asked him why he was taking both of these courses together. I could at least blame my advisor, but what was his story?

Nothing could have prepared me for his story. His wife was working and hence he decided to start a PhD. A few months down the line, his wife lost her job and was unable to find one. And yes, they have three kids to take care of. So, it is in his best interests to take as many required courses as he can so that he can graduate early and does not have to spend an extra year taking courses. By the way, we both have been just six months into our programs.

He seemed very matter of fact when he said this, but my jaws dropped as I heard him say that. Nothing could have prepared me for his story. I felt so humbled, and so guilty. Here I was acting like a spoilt brat, cribbing because I couldn’t attend a few seemingly insignificant get-togethers, couldn’t socialize some evenings, and that’s there is to it. I neither had a family to feed, nor had a change of circumstances that would make me plan ahead and load myself with courses to finish my PhD sooner. A carefree, blessed, happy-go-lucky person who had absolutely no responsibilities other than the self-inflicted responsibility of doing well in academics, I was cribbing as if this was the end of the world. His story left me with such a sense of sadness that I am never going to complain about too many courses again. I see now that it is all a matter of perspective.

sunshine

Relearning my Sciences

When my class 9 biology teacher Mrs. Khurana drew the structure of lactic acid and said, "This is what causes muscle fatigue.", I had learned how to draw the structure of lactic acid. Post-workout pains were always attributed to the “bad kitty” (Reference: South Park) lactic acid after that. I studied biology and biochemistry for years to follow, and always blamed lactic acid deposition for muscle pain after workout.

15 years later, I relearned my physiology when the advisor said, "Lactic acid is a myth, it is the leaky calcium channels." It seems the tremendous pressure you subject muscles to during short-duration, heavy exercise is what makes them leaky. Over time, the situation gets better because two things happen. We produce more calcium channels, and the calcium channels become more resilient. That is why we ache more when we start working out, but do not feel that much pain after a while. Over time, our body has produced more calcium channels, and they have strengthened themselves. Of course, I am paraphrasing what he said.

Whatever it is, right now my ribs and stomach muscles hurt so much that I am not in a state to care if it is the darned lactic acid or the leaky calcium channels. I will not care even if you tell me that I am suddenly producing excess male hormone testosterone or have generated a tail by mistake.

sunshine

Out of Question

A few months ago, I talked about how my advisor taught me to write good research questions. When I got better at it, other interesting adventures happened. First, he sent me a research proposal he wrote, and asked me to comment on it. Second, he initiated a conference call with a big shot in the field, and I happened to be a part of the conference call.

The basic problem I have with stalwarts in my field is that I like everything that they propose, suggest, write, or do. That happens for movies or books as well. I do not enjoy writing reviews for movies or books because I realize I have nothing to write except the fact that it was great. If I lived through a 500 page book or a 2.5 hour movie, the reason is that I liked what I saw or read. What it there to talk about that? Who am I to say that the movie could have had a different ending or the book could have had the old woman dying in the beginning and not at the end? First, I inherently believe that authors, directors, researchers, etc. are artists. They have a certain way of seeing life, which is reflected in their work. Who am I to tear it apart and critique it? Second, I am inherently a peace-loving, easy going person. Now many of my friends might jump at this and give references of incidents to prove me a liar. They can vouch for how ill-tempered, cranky, and difficult I can be, but ignore the rippers. Generally, I don’t like to get into conflicts. That explains why debates, politics, and social activism isn’t my forte.

Naturally when the advisor asked me for my comments, I went wow for the millionth time in my head and sent him an honest reply, “This is great”. I genuinely meant it. The document looked similar to the orange and black Kanjivaram sari mom showed me a few years ago and asked for my opinion. Since I didn’t understand much of it, all I had mumbled was the standard, “Wow, looks great!”. I emailed the same thing to the advisor.

Also during a conference call with one of the stalwarts of our field, my advisor kept constantly asking me, “Do you have questions for her?” I looked up the person we were talking to, and went “Holy Shit!!!”. A female Indian rocket scientist!! I was sold. I read with fascination about the work she did on the angular momentum of space bodies. I was shaken out of my reverie when the advisor asked me, “So do you have any questions for her?”

“Of course”, I thought. I want to know how is she so smart, cool, impressive, and had it all figured out in life. Did you honestly want me to ask questions to reinstate my ignorance? It would be like asking Einstein, “Hey dude, what do you think of Physics?” I decided to nod no and keep mum.

This led to another one-on-one session with the man. I am so beginning to be wary of these “We need to talk” sessions. This is what he said:

“You know the difference between any PhD student and a first year PhD student? A first year student is always overwhelmed, afraid to ask questions, comment, jump at debates, critique someone’s work, or voice her opinions. I don’t want you to live like a first year PhD student. The next time I send you some document, I want your critique, and not write a a “This looks great!” The next time we talk to someone in the field, jump in with your questions. I understand you don’t want to say something out of place and look stupid, but you will not. I don’t care what your questions or comments are, but the next time you will not sit quietly and stay mum!”

Sighs. This has been my new exercise ever since. These days, I ask, suggest, critique, argue, debate, and question. I don’t think I do a super impressive job, but the man looks really happy, and I’d rather have him happy than listen to the “We need to talk” conversations. I am surprised at how I am undoing 25 years of programming and training where I was grew up hearing, “Don’t question me, what I say is authority”, from people in various positions of power. I realize not questioning might be a peaceful option in places, but if I am to earn a PhD in his group, nodding a yes and complying is out of question.

sunshine

Thinking

The advisor said, “As a researcher, you get paid to think. So think!!!”

I’ve stopped working ever since. All I am doing is thinking J

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Happy Holidays,

sunshine

Learning to Question

There are many big and small incidents that happen in my otherwise mundane PhD life that I am going to remember years down the line. I am taking my preliminary exam in a month. It’s not a big deal really, but for the fact that I will need to do a couple of things to clear this next hurdle learning opportunity. For one, I need to critique a paper written by the stalwarts of the field. Now the problem with that is, a paper is not like a Facebook wall post that you can “like”, or write something clichéd like “very nice”, “kewl cool”, or “ossum awesome”. Every research paper I read seems great to me, and I do end up saying very nice, cool, or awesome in my head. I read the ideas of these stalwarts and go, “Wow, I couldn’t have thought of a better idea myself, in fact, I couldn’t even come up with so cool an idea”. But when I critique it in front of a panel of professors, I am expected to tear the ideas apart and talk about every little thing that could have been done differently, even though I personally believe nothing should have been done differently. Therein lies my plight.

The next part of the preliminary exam involves writing a 15-20 page paper on any particular topic that fascinates me. When I met with my advisor last week to discuss a possible topic, he asked me to think of 10 research ideas, and come up with 10 questions specific to those ideas. I thought it was easy. I was so wrong. I thought of a topic, scratched my head, thought harder, and wrote down 10 questions. I thought I was done. I printed out my questions on a paper and showed it to my advisor.

He never went past the first question. For every two words he read about the question, he had a question for me. “What do you mean?” “How would you measure this?” “What is the predictor variable?” “What is the outcome variable?” “What population are we talking here?” “What are the controlling factors?” “What would be the research instrument?” He had so many questions about my first question that we never made it to the rest. It was clear that I had been unable to frame my research questions properly, the very basis and first step of research. I had never felt so unsure of myself, unable to write something as basic as a research question. It was then that he made me sit with him and gave me the most valuable advice.

“I am not judging you, and everyone has been in the stage you are in right now. You must be very frustrated and in self-doubt. But remember, there is no successful PhD student whose research questions weren't torn apart the first day they sat with their advisor. It happened to me too. Researchers are different from others because we have the skill to come up with unique questions, and design a solution for them. Remember, the research question should be extremely specific. You cannot be throwing broad questions at the universe. I will tell you how to write a research question. You will come up with your questions again.”

With his advice, I started working on the questions again. This time I saw the difference his advice made to my questions. With more than five years of writing experience, and a US masters degree, I was surprised that I could not even frame good research questions. I worked hard that night, keeping in mind every possible rule he had told me about while doing so. The next day, I went to him with my new draft. This time, he found more flaws. But he at least went past the first question. He told me that my significant improvement was evident since he moved past the first question, and he was at least thinking about my research ideas and not just looking at the way my questions were worded. There were more edits for me this time too, but he looked at some of my questions and said, “Here is a paper, another paper, and yes another paper”. It seemed some of my research ideas could actually be written into a paper worth publishing. I went back and looked at my first draft of questions from the previous day. He was right. They did look very unpromising compared to my new draft.

I always assumed that I would do great in something as trivial as coming up with good research questions. I was wrong. Framing a good research question is an art, something that I am yet to master. For every idea of mine my advisor liked, the satisfaction was immense. Seems I am here to design and build a house. And right now I am learning how to rightly pick up the bricks in the first place.

sunshine

The PhD Affair

My officemate had some profound thoughts on PhD that she enlightened me with. She said that doing a PhD is like being in a relationship. On certain mornings, you wake up feeling all lovey dovey, floating on cloud 9, knowing that you are the luckiest person in the world to be in this relationship. You look forward to your research, have a wonderful time with your advisor, get your tuitions waived and get paid to obtain a degree. You network, publish, write, teach, nurture, learn, experiment, wonder, analyze, and grow as an individual while being a part of the relationship.

Yet on certain days, depending on that time of the month, the phase of the moon, or the phase of your (or your advisor’s) mood, you feel like screaming. You know you are living a lousy life, a thankless life of an underpaid and overworked graduate student. You spend days and nights at the lab, neglect your pet, don’t give as much time to the “real” relationship you have, never call back your mother on time, and never earn enough. The moron in the adjacent lab who you always thought was a loser graduated with a masters and is now happily working, driving a BMW, making monthly trips to Hawaii and the Bahamas, and has been voted the “most sought after single guy” on shaadi.com. Your advisor is never happy with your deliverables, midlife crisis has hit you, you are losing hair and growing fat, and speed dates and blind dates have been replaced with speed deadlines and blind deadlines. You hate this relationship. You can’t wait to get out of it.

And then you wake up again and feel so lucky, rubbing shoulders with the brightest people in the field, fantasizing about wearing that gown being hooded hopefully in the next few years, and telling yourself that while the moron next door spends his weekends partying, you burn the midnight oil for the greater cause of mankind.

And the cycle of I hate my PhD life and I love my PhD life continues …

sunshine

The PhD Launch Pad

Living in the IT-hub called Seattle and hanging out with a bunch of techie geeks, I listened with yawning boredom to all the tech talks, the heated discussions about if an Ipad is better than an Ipod, an Ipod is better than the Droid phone, and so on. I was surrounded by gadget maniacs, people who lived, loved, and were wedded to gadgets. I have known friends who window shopped at the apple store for hours, or booked iphones even before they were launched. 2G led to 3G and then 4G. I don’t really get much of it, and learning new technology sure does scare me. I like to keep the things in life simple. I used my phone set, a simple one that can be used solely to talk, for four years till it’s parts were threatening to come apart, thanks to excess usage and baby Kalyani fiddling with it whenever she could lay her tiny hands on it. Last week G forced me to get a new phone, a free upgrade that I had resisted for so long. It’s a simple phone, again used solely for conversation, but just the thought of learning how to use a new device scared me. It took me days to figure out how to control volume or put it in the silent mode, how to send messages without sending it to the wrong person, and how to set the alarm clock so that I wake up on time. You get the point I hope.

My advisor is a gadget crazy person. Like I’ve noticed with most men, his eyes light up with childlike excitement whenever he talks about those cool machines he ordered and the glamorous phones and computers he uses. I am yet to see the cool machine he has that tracks eye ball movements as one gets into deep thinking. In one of those states of deep thought, he finally blurted out, “I need you to get an ipad.”

I didn’t think I heard him right. Who needs an ipad for research? He said he needs to keep in touch with me even when I am traveling. I tried assuring him such a situation wouldn’t arise as I wouldn’t travel if there was work. I mean it takes me hours to figure how a simple mp3 player works. I thought ipads are toys for the rich and spoilt CS people. I left it at that.

The next day he asked me again if I had given it a thought. What was there to think? I didn’t want an ipad, or any gadget. Why couldn’t he get me a gift card from Barnes & Noble? Or take me to his next conference where I could see a new place? But then, words of wisdom came from a senior who I asked if there was any need for me to have an ipad.

“Take it as a gift from a person who loves technology and leave it at that. It’s much simpler that way.”

So dear friends, I’ll soon be a proud owner of a 64 GB ipad 3G. I don’t know what those words mean, I just googled the name. Like I told a friends, “I usually have an apple in my bag just in case I get hungry…... now I'll have 2 in my bag :)"

How times change. 4 years ago, my school gave me a flash drive as a gift. It had thrilled me beyond everything. The world has come a long way from giving away flash drives to ipads.

How much I learn to use it is yet to be seen though.

sunshine