Writing vs. procrastination

A writer is defined by a single action, really: writing. I have an inkling that I can communicate effectively by writing because I have done it successfully in the past. What I have a serious block against is writing science. Please do not misunderstand me, I love science! And I do enjoy my research… the problem is being convinced enough of the value of what I have to say that I will actually sit down and put it on the page where anyone else can read it. This blog is relatively easy to write because I am not convinced that anyone reads it! A scientific paper in a reputable (subsidy earning) journal… I think that at least the editor and reviewers read those! And so I procrastinate and find busy things to keep me from feeling guilty about all the writing that I am not doing. And all the while there is an ache inside that reminds me that the communication of science is one of the reasons I chose the profession I am in.

So… what can I do today (and in the next week) to kickstart my next paper?

1.     Write an outline

2.     Draw a reaction scheme

3.     Write a research question

4.     …

embodiment

I spent the week last week at a workshop on post graduate supervision. It was both challenging and interesting. On the one hand, we spent time interrogating our own approaches to supervision - both good and bad, and on the other hand we spent time learning about the issues which need to be addressed through the process of supervision. It is not enough to know how - we must also have a reasonable understanding of why.

Over the last few days, a thought has struck me as a result of something someone said during the course of discussion. She was talking about ... I am not really clear about what she was getting at, but it made me think. I am reading a research report by a young researcher in my lab, and I am struck by the importance of acknowledging the effect we have as scientists on the work that we do. When I ask a question, I affect the answer. We try to remove ourselves as a variable whenever we do research and try to make the work as reproducible as possible, but inevitably, there remains a small part of us which affects the outcome of the research.

We know this and that is why when an experiment fails so many students take it personally. Their first response is not that the hypothesis was wrong, but rather that they failed. Somebody else could doubtless have done it better. One of the most important things I can do as a supervisor is to help that student move from the point 

“what did I do wrong?!”

                                   to

                                             “why did the experiment not work in the expected way?”

Just sometimes I think I should ask myself the same question… not “what did I do wrong?” but “why is this student not working out the way I expected?”

Sometimes the answers open the door to new and unexpected adventures!

asking questions

Teaching science is one of the most demanding professions. It is under pressure from government and industry because the nation needs more workers with maths and science skills (or so I am told), and from parents and students who believe that a bachelors degree in science will gain them respect and employment. Let me not fail to mention that the scientific community adds their own special brand of pressure with the vast knowledge base and diverse perceptions of truth. Teaching science feels important.

 

But as a teacher of science I forget all of this when I am sitting in front of a student with a question. Then the only thing I am thinking about is the question and the best way to answer it. Should I direct the student to a book, an online resource, an experiment (my ultimate favourite), or should we talk it through immediately? Questions are the heart and soul of good science, because questions lead to answers and answers lead to great questions. Students who cannot ask questions may stumble forward and finish a course, but they are unlikely to have sufficient curiosity to become scientists – regardless of the degree they receive.

 

I want to teach in a way that encourages students to let their curiosity wander and grow, latching onto ideas and thoughts all over the playing field. So as I sit here at the beginning of another academic year I feel again the pressure to reconsider my teaching materials and methods and find new ways to connect with the diverse group of students who will be sitting in my classrooms next week. Is it possible that their brief time with me can be used to inspire them to think differently about the world around them and learn to be better chemists and better citizens? I think it is possible, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure they learn to think – at very least!