|
WIPB
Committee Inaugural Column
Beginning
with this issue, the ASPB Women in Plant Biology Committee plans to run
a column in every issue of the ASPB News. These short essays will
focus on women doing science, and they will offer perspectives, ideas,
and suggestions for those just starting careers in plant biology as well
as those further along in their careers as teachers, administrators, editors,
government scientists, or academics.
It is
our pleasure, then, to introduce in this issue our inaugural column by
Wendy Boss and her niece Jessica Farmer. Their story describes how the
scientific method is a very human endeavor, a natural reflection of human
thinking and imagination, rather than just a set of esoteric and incomprehensible
tasks carried out by remote scientists in lab coats.
|
|
Tapping
the Puzzle Piece: The Legacy of Pride in Science
It would begin the
second night after her arrival, after we had all had our say on whether
or not the Thanksgiving turkey was done enough and had drunk a sufficient
amount of wine. We would gather in the living room by the fire. My brother
would dust off the brown vinyl card table and bring it up from the basement;
then Grandmother Mary would pull out that year’s jigsaw puzzle from
her suitcase. We’d spend some time examining the cover of the box,
sometimes an elegant cathedral in Europe, sometimes a bucolic country
scene. With a quick shake and a flourish, she happily removed the lid
and dumped the contents onto the table.
There were never enough
chairs, so my nieces would have to stand or kneel beside her. There would
be some division of labor, who would work on the border, who would focus
on the treeline, who would begin the spire of the cathedral, but it was
always collaborative. “I found a piece of a cloud!” someone
would exclaim. “This looks like part of a horse’s leg,”
my sister-in-law would say. After a little while, food and wine would
begin to take effect, and we’d grow drowsy or impatient. After trying
one piece for several minutes, my mind would invariably wander, and I’d
pass my frustrating piece on to Grandmother Mary. She would finger it
thoughtfully, peering down at the table from behind her spectacles. She
would try it in various places, some that I had already tried, and some
where it seemed to me it clearly did not fit. I walked around the table
and looked over her shoulder, trying to see just what she saw. Never rushed,
she enjoyed the search, but she loved the find. When she finally got it
to fit, and she always did, she would briskly tap the piece three times
before sliding it neatly into place.
Grandmother Mary was
not a scientist, but there was something very scientific in her approach
to “puzzling,” as she called it. The methodology used is very
much like that which goes into
scientific discovery. Spread out before you on the table is the work of
the thousands who have come before you; the challenge is to find where
your piece fits. And each individual piece, each finding, each paper,
is a puzzle in itself, comprising countless hours in the field collecting
data, in the lab running experiments, and behind a computer screen examining
and articulating what has been learned. Oftentimes, this toil only leads
to the realization that the piece doesn’t fit and you have to reposition
it, rerun the experiment, and reexamine the data to see what went wrong.
Through this endeavor comes true wisdom, the ability to admit when you
are wrong and the fortitude to stick with it to figure out why. Good scientists
recognize that this is an integral part of the process, and the only path
to the “eureka” moment of discovery when your piece fits just
right and a larger picture begins to emerge. Through this methodology,
old truths are challenged and new ones take form.
Throughout my career
I have been fortunate to work with people who were stimulated by scientific
discovery, who recognized the beauty of the process and were thrilled
to do science for science’s sake. Their achievements have built on
what came before and contribute to what is to come in ways that only the
future can show. Because all science is connected, these eureka moments
of discovery are not a victory for the individual alone but for modern
science as well. Science is, then, about community. In any individual
paper or experiment, there are many people involved. Though the long nights
in the lab may be solitary, the completion of the puzzle is never the
work of a single scientist. Tapping the puzzle piece celebrates the pride
in that work, the thrill of learning something new, and the pride that
individual derives from a contribution to the greater whole, whether or
not it brings notoriety. I often wondered if Grandmother Mary would tap
the piece if we weren’t there with her at the table; I have no doubt
that she would.
We educators have
the difficult yet marvelous task of passing on this enthusiasm for discovery,
for the beauty of the process, to the next generation of scientists. We
must convey that to do the process right takes time, but by giving yourself
space to explore, you can arrive at new insights and new questions that
you could not have imagined at the onset. In this space, new theories
and careers are born. Unfortunately, competition today in science is threatening
to rob young scientists of the eureka moment by creating a culture that
rewards those who try to jam in as many pieces as possible in the shortest
amount of time. This leads to “flash in the pan” science, sloppy
research, and legwork that devalues the science, and for many, sucks the
joy out of the process. Not all scientific work will rewrite the textbooks,
but all good science, well-placed pieces, contribute to the larger puzzle.
Putting one piece in correctly, whether it is the one that reveals the
final image or the one that fills in the background, is important. And
each individual has a role to play; whether sitting at the table for the
pleasure of the company and the excitement of the moment or to complete
the final image, each of us has a place at the table.
Conveying this message
of pride in work is critical in science, because science holds a unique
place in society for its ability to transcend politics and prejudice and
present society with tools to better understand the world. It tells us
how things work, and challenges what is known to be true. In this way,
science exists at the edge of imagination. Ask the right questions and
anything is possible. One needs only to look at the recent scandal at
the New York Times to see what happens when institutions that hold
the public’s faith are degraded by individuals who cut corners in
pursuit of fame. In order for science to play its crucial role, it must
be sound, it must be accurate, and it must be good.
So it is against this
precipitous race for glory that we educators must position ourselves.
The number of papers and where they were published will be forgotten all
too soon. The legacy that we must leave is the love of discovery and the
determination to follow through until we get it right. It is mostly unglamorous
work, and the stress of deadlines is real, but through it all the students
must see us tapping the puzzle piece. We must continue to be engaged in
the discovery, to be thrilled when a new student enters the lab, or when
a colleague shares an insight over lunch. Let the students see that this
is the best job a person could have. Come to the table, accept the challenge,
and tap on your puzzle piece. Capture the excitement and pass it on.
Some might place just
one piece in a lifetime, and some may place 20. Some may slip the last
piece in the middle and say they finished the puzzle, but that can never
be true. This Thanksgiving, we will gather around the table to construct
yet another puzzle. Grandmother Mary has been gone for nearly 10 years,
but when my piece slides into place and the picture starts to emerge,
I will tap it and smile.
Jessica Teahan
Farmer
jessicatfarmer@hotmail.com
Wendy Farmer Boss
wendy_boss@ncsu.edu
|
