Month: September 2003

John Wheeler probably wins the prize for pithiest summation (and one of the best): “The reason Universities have students is so they can teach the Professors” (quoting from memory)

Via Lance Fortnow, a thought-provoking speech by UCLA Professor Andrew Kahng on the role grad students can play in a University.

Of course, neither of these tells the whole story, by a long shot. But they’re both pretty worthwhile ideals.

In an earlier essay I talked about the development of professional skills by research scientists.

Now, this seems like such a self-evidently good thing, what more could there be to say?

Oddly, however, the development of such professional skills is, sometimes, seen in rather a bad odour by some scientists, as though a focus on anything not purely technical is to be derided. I have occasionally heard a scientist criticized or sneered at, just slightly, for giving a particularly polished talk, writing an especially clear paper(!!), or going to the trouble of developing and maintaining a strong professional network. (More often, I hasten to add, people celebrate such achievements.)

I have even – and this is the problem that concerns me – somewhat more frequently heard older scientists counsel younger scientists that they shouldn’t make their presentations look too professional, for just this reason.

The imputation undelying all this seems to be that people who do develop these sorts of professional skills have nothing to do with their time, and that rather than doing so-called “real science”, are merely wasting their time on cosmetic foolishness.

This line of thought is rubbish. It is true that there are a few scientists – a very few – who believe (in deed, if not in word) that form is more important than substance, or that political power plays are more important than asking and answering interesting questions.

However, the majority of people with top-notch professional skills develop them precisely because they realize how important such skills are to effective research.

How much more effective will your research be if you can communicate your ideas in such a clear and compelling fashion that someone from another field can understand your main problems – and maybe contribute new lines of thought that open up new avenues to solution, or suggest problems in their own field that you may be able to contribute to the solution of?

Albert Einstein, often revered as an icon of individualism, and for his focus on pure research, was actually a consummate research networker, writing many thousands of letters (striking for the clarity and care of their prose) to colleagues, describing his latest ideas, and receiving in turn many thousands of letters keeping him up with the latest thoughts of the other leading scientists of the day.

Revised version of earlier entries, in response to comments by Dave Bacon and Ben Toner.

Undergraduate education in physics is usually concentrated on learning certain basic facts about physics, and technical skills that enable one to solve problems in physics. While both these are essential facets of doing research, many other equally essential skills are neglected, or ignored completely.

Why is this the case? In part it may be because not all people taking physics degrees necessarily hope to do research one day. However, to an extent far greater than in almost any other subject, an undergraduate degree in physics is, at least nominally, focused on the task of preparing people for research.

At the PhD level, while there is a strong focus on actually doing research, relatively few supervisors engage in much active discussion of how research is done. If a student is lucky they may see a particular research style modeled, through interactions with their supervisor and other more senior scientists.

Such modeling is potentially quite valuable, especially if a student is exposed to a wide range of research styles. However, what works for one person may not work for others. This is especially true when one person is inexperienced and lacks confidence, while another is very experienced and has considerable confidence. Furthermore, each individual needs to develop their own style, suited to their own combination of talents.

Many students fail even to see such modeling. A remarkably common attitude is that students either “have it”, or “don’t”, when it comes to research skills, and that this justifies neglect of students who “don’t have it”.

This sells students lumped into either category short.

It is true that some beginning PhD students are exceptionally well equipped to do the tasks required of a PhD student. Such students may complete their PhD much more rapidly than usual, with apparently astounding success. However, such students may also plateau – they may never move beyond this level, stagnating instead of growing into a new set of skills beyond that required of a PhD student.

Similarly, other beginning students may be very well equipped in some ways, but lacking in certain essential skills that result in them being placed into the “don’t” category. Might such students benefit from learning some basic research skills?

I believe classes aimed at improving student’s research skills – what we might call “research literacy” classes – can be effectively integrated into both the undergraduate and postgraduate curricula.

Before describing how this integration might be achieved, one comment on what I mean by research skills.

Research skills may usefully be divided into two classes.

The first class is professional skills, such as public speaking, writing technical prose, and networking, which can be learnt and applied outside the context of research.

The second class is technical skills, such as finding and solving good research problems, and determining what constitutes a research result. These are skills that can only be learnt by someone actively engaged in the practice of doing research. The reason is that as yet there isn’t any good general theory of how to do research. Different things work for different people, and there is no test you can take to find out how you should operate. Instead, you need to try different things out, see how they go, and improve from there.

This distinction between professional and technical skills has important implications for the integration of research literacy classes into the undergraduate and postgraduate curricula.

At the postgraduate level, research is usually the primary activity, and research literacy classes could easily be integrated in parallel with actual research. I am currently trying this out on a small scale by forming a discussion group in which students and faculty members discuss the difficulties involved in doing research, and potential solutions to those difficulties. These solutions can then be tried out by members of the group, evaluated individually, and improved upon with the assistance of the entire group.

At the postgraduate level, no distinction need be made between professional and technical skills. However, at the undergraduate level the situation is more complex. At present most undergraduates do not actively engage in research. Instead, most undergraduate programs focus primarily on learning the basic knowledge and problem-solving skills that are seen as necessary, but not sufficient, preconditions to being able to do research.

Given this constraint, research literacy classes for undergraduates would need to focus on professional skills, not technical skills. To some extent this already occurs in some University systems, most notably the US system, with their focus on obtaining a well-rounded liberal arts education. In such a system students in the sciences are less likely to forget how to write an essay or make a public presentation than in a more narrowly focused system such as Australia’s. However, in all systems it seems that considerably more attention could fruitfully be paid to the development of professional skills in undergraduates.

[…] we can see the nature of the flaw which made his life ultimately tragic. His flaw was restlestness, an inborn inability to be idle. Intervals of idleness are probably essential to creative work on the highest level. Shakespeare, we are told, was habitually idle between plays. Oppenheimer was hardly ever idle.

– in the essay “Oppenheimer”, reprinted in “From Eros to Gaia”.

Why is it that music can help us concentrate and avoid distraction?

I’d forgotten this until recently. I now understand again why so many people wear headphones while they work. What I don’t get is why music has this effect.

A hypothesis is that when we lose our focus, our brain searches for something to fill the attention gap. Often, it does this by changing the focus of attention to some other distracting activity. If music is playing, perhaps we distract ourselves with that, as the nearest attention filler. After a few moments, our original focus begins to return, and we can pull ourselves away from the music, especially if it is relatively undemanding of attention. I don’t know of a good way to test this hypothesis.

Walter Isaacson’s “Benjamin Franklin: An American Life”. One of the best biographies I’ve ever read; the only biography I can think of that I enjoyed as much or more was James Gleick’s “Genius”, a biography of Richard Feynman. (I count myself an afficianado of biographies, too.)

Probably the most striking characteristic of Franklin evident in Isaacson’s biography is how consciously and skillfully Franklin created social roles that encouraged self-development.

It’s a common enough observation that one of the most effective ways of changing your own behaviour is to change your social role. Franklin took this one step further, consciously creating social roles for himself that reinforced behaviours he wanted to encourage in himself.

Perhaps most famously, at the age of 21 Franklin created the “Junto”, a small group of men who formed a society dedicated to their own self-improvement. At each meeting the Junto members were asked questions like “Have you lately heard of any citizen’s thriving well, and by what means?” or “Have you lately observed any encroachments on the just liberties of the people?” The questions were chosen by Franklin specifically with the goal of promoting his own self-development, and the development of others.

Of course, Franklin could have addressed these questions himself each week, in his own time. Or he could have discussed it among friends on a regular basis. But how much more powerful it must have been to create an institution dedicated to addressing these questions on a regular basis!

Later in life, while living in England and France, Franklin was a constant participant in various intellectual salons that seem to have filled a similar role for him.

If Franklin were alive today, I wonder whether he would have a blog? (Maybe he’d be writing blogging software.) If so, what the heck would he be doing with it?

Revised version of an earlier entry, in response to comments by Dave Bacon.

Undergraduate education in physics is usually concentrated on learning certain basic facts about physics, and technical skills that enable one to solve problems in physics. While both these are essential facets of doing research, many other equally essential skills are neglected, or ignored completely.

Why is this the case? In part it may be because not all people taking physics degrees necessarily hope to do research one day. However, to an extent far greater than in almost any other subject, an undergraduate degree in physics is, at least nominally, focused on the task of preparing people for research.

At the PhD level, while there is a strong focus on actually doing research, relatively few supervisors engage in much active discussion of how research is done. If a student is lucky they may see a particular research style modeled, through interactions with their supervisor and other more senior scientists.

Such modeling is potentially quite valuable, especially if a student is exposed to a wide range of research styles. However, what works for one person may not work for others. This is especially true when one person is inexperienced and lacks confidence, while another is very experienced and has considerable confidence. Furthermore, each individual needs to develop their own style, suited to their own combination of talents.

Many students fail even to see such modeling. A remarkably common attitude is that students either “have it”, or “don’t”, when it comes to research skills, and that this justifies neglect of students who “don’t have it”.

This sells students lumped into either category short. It is true that some beginning PhD students are exceptionally well equipped to do the tasks required of a PhD student. Such students may complete their PhD much more rapidly than usual, with apparently astounding success. However, such students may also plateau – they may never move beyond this level, stagnating instead of growing into a new set of skills beyond that required of a PhD student.

Similarly, other beginning students may be very well equipped in some ways, but lacking in certain essential skills that result in them being placed into the “don’t” category. Might such students benefit from learning some basic research skills?

I believe that there are many ways in which the learning of research skills can be integrated into both the undergraduate and postgraduate curricula.

At the postgraduate level, such learning can be done in parallel with actual research. For example, a discussion group may be formed, in which students and faculty members discuss the difficulties involved in doing research, and potential solutions to each of those difficulties. These solutions can then be tried out by members of the group, evaluated individually, and improved upon with the assistance of the entire group.

Learning research skills at the undergraduate level poses more difficulties. At present most undergraduates do not actively engage in research. Instead, at most institutions undergraduate education is focused primarily on learning the basic knowledge and problem-solving skills that are seen as necessary (but not sufficient) preconditions to being able to do research.

Unfortunately, there isn’t any good general theory of how to do research. Different things work for different people, and there is no one test you can take to find out how you should operate. Instead, you need to try different things out, see how they go, and improve from there.

So it seems that a theoretical treatment of how to do research, divorced from actual practice, will likely be of limited value in most present undergraduate programs. Thus, to benefit from a “research skills” or “research literacy”-type course at the undergraduate level, the actual process of doing research would need to be incorporated more fully into the curriculum.