Charlie Murphy Says

Charlie Murphy says, "Sometimes, it doesn't always pay to try and fit in."

Uh Oh, A Little Writer's Block

I was so excited about the positive feedback on my first few posts, I sort of forgot to get going on the next post.  And then I became unsure of what I wanted to write about.  And then I got so nervous that I felt like I couldn’t write anything at all.  Oh, the madness! 

For now, I wanted to share this lovely tidbit with you.  I have been reading Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing.  It is wonderful, inspiring and motivating.  I’d recommend it for anyone, including non-writers.  This is one of my favorite quotes from it:

“Self-consciousness is the enemy of all art, be it acting, writing, painting, or living itself, which is the greatest art of all.”

So, there you have it.  Don't think about it, just go ahead and do it!  Hopefully this might inspire a few of you out there, suffering from some sort of temporary or long-term block, be it writer’s or whatever.  I’m busy working on my temporary writer’s block, and I’ll get back to you soon, I hope!! J

Charlie Murphy Says

Charlie Murphy says, 'It's Friday.  Don't forget to have some fun.'

High School Science Fair

I had the good fortune to be asked to judge a high school science fair on a recent afternoon.  I just thought I’d sit here and jot down a couple of things that really struck me, having to do with teenagers and the strange experience of viewing science through their eyes.  And of course, when you get to see something important to you through another set of eyes, interesting thoughts usually come up!

First:  wow, do these kids have energy!  I haven’t been in a high school setting, or among a mass of teenagers in a very long time, probably not since I was one of them myself.  Some of these students clearly had energy for their project and in making clear to me what thought and effort they had put into it.  Those kids were a lot of fun.  Others had energy, but it just as obviously was focused on other aspects of their lives.  Certainly not on putting effort into a silly science fair.  (I wonder if these students realize how easy it is for us to tell that they only put one afternoon’s effort into their project?)  Anyway, the gymnasium was buzzing with their energy.  As the judges arrived, all were nervous, all attention on last-minute practices mumbled to project partners.  As the judges visited our assigned projects, asked our questions, and steadily worked our ways through the students, the atmosphere correspondingly changed, super-energy high school students steadily regressed from focused, obliging mini-scientists into kids again, all grouping up together, the sounds of giggles taking over the gymnasium air.  Students were running around, God knows where or why, earning stern words from their teachers.  And suddenly, the high school students began making me very nervous, giving strange flashbacks to days not so long ago when I was JUST like that.  What’s scary is that I didn’t realize how old and low-energy and DULL I’ve become in comparison.  Holy crap!!

On a more scientific note, the other thing that stood out for me at the fair was the scientific method.  The whole thing was up on their gymnasium wall, on a giant banner, just like this: 

1. Define the question
2. Gather information
3. Form a hypothesis
4. Perform experiment and collect data
5. Analyze data
6. Interpret data and draw conclusions that serve as a starting point for new hypothesis

I do remember learning about this process in school.  I do remember being a bit baffled by it at the time (maybe I shouldn’t admit this?).  Now, the students at the science fair didn’t really seem to get the idea of a hypothesis, either.  And I didn’t truly understand it until grad school.  Back in high school and earlier, I just didn’t get what they were saying with it.  Something didn’t connect.  At least for me, early science education did not have anything to do with the discovery of new ideas.  It was simply the memorization of super fascinating discoveries that other people had already made.  And now I am wondering:  why is there so little discovery involved in elementary and high school education?  Why didn’t I learn how to really think critically until I was being battered with questions by professors in grad school in front of the whole Neurobiology department?  Did I miss something along the way? 

And this brings me to something that’s been running around in my brain for a few years now.  I’m just wondering if there might be a better way to teach young students the scientific method.  Once I learned and practiced the process of analyzing data, and to design an experiment that best rules out all variables and alternate conclusions (not an easy trick, mind you), I found that these skills apply fascinatingly well to everyday life.  I suppose they used to call it critical thinking back in school, but that too was a boring phrase that went in one of my ears and right out the other.  Being able to look at a set of information and truly get the most out of it, to be certain that you are not being tricked into a conclusion based on an incomplete data set, is a skill that is useful everywhere.  Just try and read the news, searching for the same sort of bias or incomplete data that you’d search for in a journal article.  I now try to never let these hard-earned skills go to waste.  It’s amazing the way the world looks once you can see through the crapola, analytically listening to a political speech or reading a news article.  I only got here after many years of science training.  Yes, I was a total sucker and believed most things that I read and heard before that.  But, isn’t there a way to make the importance of this skill more obvious to everyone, at a young age?  Otherwise, we’re all just suckers, aren’t we?

I know a number of my readers teach high school.  Any ideas?  Or am I just being a lunatic?  That’s cool if I am, you can say so.  J

The Mountain

Well, wow! Thanks everyone so much for visiting my first blog! The number of visits to the page was so big, I think I’m suffering a little stage fright in writing this next piece. :-) But, I’ll do my best. The good news is that in starting the blog and writing that first piece, I’m already feeling a lot less angst overall. Mostly. Writing therapy is wonderful.

In my current quest for sanity (simplicity), and wondering how in the world I got to this particular spot in life, a certain place keeps popping up in my mind.  I’ve been dying to revisit this place, and maybe you’d be up for joining along. I’m quite sure this is where the whole science path began. Until I was 14 years old, my family and I stayed in a cabin on land in Pennsylvania owned by my dad’s parents and aunt. We stayed there almost all weekends through the spring, summer and fall. The cabin itself was built by hand by my great-grandfather and his friend. A plaque on the chimney has the year 1940 scratched into it. It was a rustic and small two-story cabin with stone walls, a one-room downstairs and an open loft upstairs. There was a screened-in porch that we used in the summer days and evenings. Of course, it was cozy and beautiful to us, the feeling of family ever-present in the place, every corner hand-made. We called it the Little Camp. 

But, it’s more than just the Little Camp I wanted to visit. We called the whole place, land, cabin and all, The Mountain. To me, it was: the big mowed yard, surrounded by a modest stone wall, and past that, acres and acres of trees. Quiet. The occasional deer and bear wandering through the yard. Red eft salamanders making their brilliant appearances near the creek after a rainstorm. Meadows of tall grass, huge old maple trees standing tall as the years passed, a small pond that was only filled with water until mid-summer. We had a view from the big field on our hillside, below the Little Camp, onto the next hill, the whole thing covered with trees. There were no buildings in sight but ours, not a cottage or a power line. As a small kiddo, I’d get up early to gather (mostly just eat) wild strawberries in the field, munch from apple trees that gave delicious Spy and Golden Delicious in the fall. Most important: the quiet. All weekend, to only hear the breathing of the earth: the wind through the trees, rushing through branches choked with leaves in the summer, and a brittle sound as the leaves would change color and fall. A bright whistle once the leaves were gone. The call of a crow. The screen door slamming periodically. These sounds, always a gentle backdrop: understated peace.

Everything was so quiet and close that the super-occasional car passing by on the dirt road was an attention-grabbing event. For me as a kid, events on the mountain were defined in much smaller spaces than they are in life these days. The discovery of a path made by ants in the grass, the magic of witnessing my first ice storm, each branch and blade of grass covered in its own glass sheath. All of the changing seasons, apple blossoms slowly turning into apples. Tadpoles hatching from their eggs, slowing becoming frogs. I’d keep track of all these things, week to week, making my visits to be sure and witness all that was going on. There’s a lot of magic in watching and listening to the earth just do her thing. And that’s the beginning, for me. In all of these events is another whole set of fun blog posts, I’m sure. :-)

Oh, and happy Valentine's Day! Eat some chocolate!!

Here Goes!

Well, here we are.  Welcome!  I’ve decided to embark on a little blogging adventure, and see where it takes me.  I initially wanted to write a science blog.  However, while I was putting together some things in order to begin, I decided I should just dive in; I have a lot that I feel like saying.  So, here goes.  On this blog, I’m just going to write, and work on finding my voice again.  Hopefully you find it enjoyable, and then we’ll both be happy!  We’ll see where this leads, but hopefully it will be enjoyable and useful for us both.   

For starters, I’m working as a post-doctoral fellow in Montreal, Quebec.  I moved here from the U.S.A. two and a half years ago and have had my perspective turned around in a thousand different ways since then.  It’s a blessing and a curse.  (In the end, maybe after a few beers, I’d probably admit to you it’s been a blessing and I wouldn’t change a thing). 

If you’re unfamiliar with what a post-doctoral fellow is, well then you’re in good company.  As I understand it, once upon a time, folks who were ambitious (or nuts) enough to be a university professor could attain that inviting-sounding position after obtaining a Ph.D. degree.  They could then teach undergraduates, run a small lab, and basically enjoy a life of educating others and educating themselves all the time.  It sounded fabulous to me.  However, nowadays, there is enough Ph.D. competition out there, that a post-doc is necessary in order to achieve some research experience, hence hire-ability.  So, I survived the Neuroscience Ph.D. program and enjoyed that so much that I moved on to the post-doc.  The post-doc, as far as I know, is the lowest-paying (and accordingly modest) job option out there for a newly graduated Ph.D. student.  Mind you, this is someone who has gone to school for at least 25 years.  Anyway, the idea is to fill yourself in on any skills you missed during Ph.D. school, become an independent researcher and develop your own research program.  This means that if you were handed a lab tomorrow, you’d be ready to fill it up with students, churn out some data, and apply for and obtain some serious funding.  The funding comes from many sources, private and public, but as far as I know, the climate in the last few years has been that big government grants, National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the Canadian Institute of Health Research (CIHR) are the top goal (lots of money).  However, as the world economy (and especially the U.S. economy) is starting to show cracks, so has the government-funding of research.  Science is a difficult field to get a degree in, and an even harder one to get a job in these days (oh, what have I done?).

Still, I always wanted to be a scientist (as well as an astronaut, an inventor, a writer, a pilot, an engineer…).  There was even a moment where I specifically remember yearning for 5 Ph.D.s; this was just after I learned what a Ph.D. was.  I believe I was around 9 years old.  (Dear God, what is wrong with me?) 

Such ambition and determination in a risky and sorely difficult type of career must eventually lead to burnout or breakdown, right?  Anyway, here I am now.  Approaching or involved in a transition period, a burnout period, a moment of asking myself, “what in the WORLD am I doing here?”  How did I get here?  Why did I leave comfort for adventure?  What is most important?  Before any science ambition, before I knew why the leaves changed color in the fall, and long before I’d ever heard of the Dave Matthews Band (J), I wanted to write.  I could write.  It was the one thing I could always just do.  Through the angst of teenage years, through long northern winters, through breakups and big moves, I wrote.  And I’ve written in quiet, in journals that are never read, poems that are never published.  It’s been a long time since I’ve used this voice, loud and clear.  I’d like to share it again, to see where this might take me. 

It’s time to sort the last few years of my life out.  It’s time to make some observations, to analyze my experiences, to evaluate the situation.  And I’m inviting you along for the ride.  Please, please comment and share.  Would love for this to be as beneficial for my readers as I hope it will be for me.

And, a note about the blog title, in case you were wondering.  “Both Sides Now” is a Joni Mitchell tune, and I happened to be listening to Joni Mitchell, a classic Canadian singer-songwriter, during the lovely cold winter afternoon in the coffee shop where I wrote this first blog!  I think it really suits.  Enjoy!