It’s a taxing time of the year for many: investigators applying for grants, fresh graduate students applying for fellowships, and slightly older graduate students (like yours truly) preparing for the advancement to candidacy exam. I’m at a particularly interesting crossroads, as I’ve been frequently solicited for feedback as well as frequently soliciting feedback from others.
In terms of helping others, I’ve edited fellowship essays, constructively critiqued advancement practice talks, and provided advice on effective public speaking through my role as a Communications Consultant (for my university’s Graduate Resource Center). In terms of getting help from others, I’ve asked my advisors, fellow graduate students, and other friends to comment on my written reports and presentations (2 of each) for the advancement exam.
Yesterday morning, I received the first set of comments on my research report. Later that afternoon, I gave a practice talk and got many suggestions from that. By the end of the day, I was feeling tired, unenthusiastic, and discouraged. However, one comment stood out in particular throughout this entire advancement prep process. In yesterday’s practice talk, one person continually praised my clean, simple slide designs (thanks, Richard!).
This was so noteworthy because it stood out from all other comments that were critical in nature. Thinking about my graduate school experience more broadly, encouragement and affirmation are rare. Holistic feedback can also be rare, which is jarring when coming from a traditional student role (getting feedback via grades) or from some work setting (getting feedback in regular evaluations). I think this is problematic, as research is an inherently difficult process. Ask any seasoned scientist, and they’ll tell you that success is the tip of the iceberg on top of loads of failures. Constructive feedback is important for assessing progress, adjusting the research approach (if needed), and maintaining confidence and investment in the work.
I’ve chatted with a few labmates, facetiously discussing the idea of “scientist personality disorder.” This was coined with reference to researchers who seem to be lacking in people skills, such as by talking over others or by dismissing (or even insulting) “unworthy” contributions. Scientists are people at the core. Perhaps it’s the critical nature of science (for example, the peer review process) that facilitates the development of scientist personality disorder. If so, we must make an active effort to retain or to grow these valuable interpersonal skills. A little encouragement and empathy goes a long way.