When I think about the future of higher education, there are a few key areas I would like to see change, but one that stands out the most.  The topic I chose to look into for the Scholarly Essay assigned in this class was the advisor-advisee relationship between doctoral students and their advisors.  I consider myself to be very lucky because I have an excellent advisor and our relationship is positive, supportive, and collaborative.  Many doctoral students, however, aren’t as lucky, and find themselves in dissatisfactory and unsuccessful relationships with their advisors, which can directly impact their thesis progress, professional development, and career opportunities moving forward.  For this reason, and many other reasons, it is reported that 50% of all doctoral students drop out of their programs of study before completing their PhD.  This is a huge number with huge implications, and one contributor to this statistic can be attributed to advisor-advisee relationships.  This contributor should be preventable in my mind, but nevertheless it still persists.  How can we address and ameliorate the negative relationships that evolve between doctoral students and their advisors?

One factor that contributes to unsuccessful advisor-advisee relationships in doctoral training is a mismatch between advising/mentoring style and the students’ expectations.  This is a very complicated area, but as a current advisee who foresees becoming an advisor one day, it is important to me to try to unpack this.  I think one critical change we could introduce into this system is a way to train advisors in a more standardized way so as to prepare faculty who may have minimal experience and to avoid the model of trial-and-error.  Some scholars have suggested creating a training program that can pair “seasoned” advisors with less experienced advisors before they start advising students.  To me this sounds like a positive opportunity to watch and learn from an experienced faculty member who has likely already encountered many challenges that lie ahead for newer faculty.  I think there are obvious pros and cons to this approach, but I would be interested to see it implemented and from there, refined based on feedback and outcomes.  I think advising students can easily be seen as a lower priority, and beyond that as an inherent or natural ability.  However, I think this is a major misconception that can be addressed in positive and encouraging ways.  And if this misconception is redressed, maybe we will see improved advisor-advisee relationships, and less doctorate program attrition.

This week’s assignment prompted us to find a representation of how faculty in higher education are using, reacting, or interacting with what many have considered to be “disruptive” technologies. In searching for an infographic or article related to this topic, I came across the one seen below, visualizing and describing how educators and faculty use social media, represented in a number of different categories.

I think the first bar graph in the top right section, regarding the comparison of personal and professional uses of social media according to faculty polled, was notable and pretty interesting. I was specifically surprised that blogs are used more for professional purposes, and that LinkedIn is used more for personal purposes. Those results were most surprising to me, because I’ve always thought of LinkedIn as a professional networking site, so it’s interesting to think about how it could even be used for “personal” over “professional” reasons. Also, I’m realizing slowly that blogs are becoming more and more popular to boost your professional appearance, but I had previously considered blogging largely as a platform for personal expression. As the network in the bottom half of this infographic shows, blogs are perceived as ways to connect, teach, and notify in the class.

I don’t know if I really understand the debate about open access.  Why is the goal of “making all scientific content available for anyone in the world” (from video by PHD Comics) looked upon in a negative light?  It seems to me that it makes everything more accessible, which would allow for advancement of scientific theory and approaches more universal/standardized and more streamlined.  Think about how many research groups around the world are working with the same molecule, theoretical framework, or structure.  There must be more groups working on the same idea than we realize, especially if we consider how much emphasis is placed on avoiding getting scooped.  How could our work get scooped if no one else is doing it?  Why would we be pressuring ourselves to publish results quickly or in journals with huge citation indices and reader rates if it wasn’t important for someone else to see?  If everyone’s research could be made public and readily accessible, it would reduce the redundancy and advance the ability to actually build on existing research massively.  What’s the downfall?  Why are we resistant to this?  Is there something I’m missing?  If science is indeed supposed to be about “discovering new things and spreading that knowledge around” (also from video by PHD Comics), which I agree with wholeheartedly, then why are we (as a community) impeding science by adhering to an outdated structure and resisting open access?

I wonder how to teach and instill the value of original work, and crediting others for their work when appropriate, to students who may not be interested in this issue.  It’s an important concept to those of us who produce original work and feel we deserve credit for that work, but what about undergraduate students in introductory classes who may not have been in the position to produce original work or experience someone’s plagiarism of that, or who have no interest in participating in the types of activities or careers that require these things?  I don’t think every profession places equal value on originality, so plagiarism may be less of a sensitive topic for some industries.  In life in general, despite the career one chooses, I think the concepts embodied here are critical to developing an honest and moral character, but the connections may not be as evident to a student who thinks there are better ways to spend their time.  So how do we teach something that may seem boring or irrelevant to people who don’t want to learn about it?  To some students, an introductory to psychology class may be a requirement, or one they are not interested in pursuing as a degree or career.  So putting in the effort of creating original work for assignments may seem like a waste of time or energy.  Can we as educators change their minds, and change their perspective?

Posing hypothetical situations could be one way to approach this.  Consider having worked on a project for months and months, and generating your own output based on that effort.  What if someone else claimed it as theirs, and everyone believed them?  I’m not sure if this would really resonate with people without a more concrete example, and I think it’s a pretty narrow and over simplified version of the truth.  There must be a way to indicate the broader implications of plagiarizing.

Fabricating evidence is just as detrimental to scholarly discourse, and there’s an easy way to exemplify this. The illustration could be of Andrew Wakefield and his fabricated science “supporting” that the MMR vaccine contributes to or causes autism in children.  There is absolutely no part of that argument that is accurate or evidence-based, and it was recanted by the entire scientific world, and he was dismissed and lost his credentials as a consequence of this.  But people still reference it as a reason for not vaccinating their children, despite the scientifically-proven detrimental effect abstaining from vaccination has on the larger community.  Providing this example could demonstrate that there are practical, important, and real-world implications that can result from unethical and dishonest science and more broadly, reporting of that science.

This question is one I’ve given a lot of thought to in the past few weeks, especially after discussing it in the Contemporary Pedagogy class earlier this semester.  I’d like to think that the way I dress would not affect how I am perceived, but that assumption is probably short-sighted.  My credibility may already be undermined by the fact that I am a female, even if it is a subconscious and unintentional bias.  And I likely will be close in age, or at least appear close in age, to many of my students, which would could make it easier to not take me very seriously as an educator.  But I think I’m not willing to go out of my way to dress very formally to teach.  I’d rather be comfortable and practical, and it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more relatable to students.

A similar question is concerned with the way I choose to be addressed by the faculty and by the students.  I think this would affect the relationship I have with students, but I would rather it not.  For example, I do not wish to be called “Dr.” so-and-so, because an informal salutation would be more relatable and maybe approachable.  But if there is an atmosphere of disrespect that unfolds as a result of being on a first-name basis, I would in that case consider being called Dr. to establish my credentials and make it clear that I should be respected.  But that is a decision that has to be made early, because it would be even worse to go by my first name initially and then change my mind—I don’t think that would go over well.  I think part of this depends on the culture of the university, or of the department in which I teach, so maybe I will have less control over the outcome than I’m anticipating.  That might make it easier, I suppose, by avoiding the need to make a decision!

I would like to think, as one of my classmates in Contemporary Pedagogy mentioned, that having a PhD would warrant respect and credibility in the eyes of my students automatically, regardless of things that seem silly and unimportant (like what I wear or how I choose to be addressed).  But there is a nagging part of me that wonders if this is true.  Maybe this also depends on the general culture and atmosphere of the university, but if not, I think it’s something I can establish and instill early in the semester by having an open and transparent discussion about these things.  I don’t mean that I would address appearances or names directly, but setting the tone at an early stage that the class will be professional and respectful towards everyone, including myself, could be a good start.

In discussion-based classroom settings, whether in undergraduate classes we end up teaching one day or in graduate classes we participate in today, we must be careful and hold ourselves accountable for ensuring an atmosphere of inclusivity, community, and trust.  From experience in a wide variety of discussion-based classes, I think this is best accomplished by encouraging a balance in participation across students.  Those students who appear to be disinterested in discussion and who contribute very little may in fact be itching to share their ideas, but may find it difficult to do so among a sea of other students.  It may be the case that other, more vocal students interpret a lull in conversation, no matter how brief, as their chance to stir things up and get the conversation going again.  But we often make the mistake of confusing their verbosity for their value.  In reality, the quietest students also have compelling opinions and input to offer, but also have the hardest time stepping up to speak.  But we often make the mistake of confusing their silence for their indifference.

The moral of this story, from a student’s perspective, is to spend time and consideration into the types of people surrounding you.  Be respectful and aware of other peoples’ insecurities and encourage them to contribute to the conversation, especially if you’ve noticed yourself doing most of the talking.  As one of the quieter students, it’s also your responsibility to assert yourself when necessary, because everyone’s voice is valuable and deserves to be heard.

As the professor, I believe it’s important to have a conversation about these dynamics openly, and early on in the course.  Give students the chance to self-reflect, realize which type of contributor they are, and moderate themselves.  From there, it is the professor’s duty to facilitate discussion, but also to monitor the speakers, and occasionally, to step in.  The larger the class size, the more challenging this becomes.  But it also becomes more important as well.

In our communicating science class a few weeks ago, I noticed a good deal of information really resonating with me.  I’ve taken the Communicating Science course here at Virginia Tech, and it was one of the most transformative classes of my graduate career.  It was instrumental in helping me become comfortable communicating with diverse audiences, and even made it enjoyable to do so.  I was open-minded going into this class, but also a little skeptical and very nervous about stepping outside of my comfort zone.  But by the end of the semester, I found myself overjoyed with the level of uncomfortableness (it was still there, but in a gentle, nagging way that pushed me to follow through rather than discouraging me from continuing).  Despite going through these exercises for an entire semester and loving the outcome, I was still apprehensive at the beginning of our PFP communicating science class.  As expected, it immediately became comfortable again and I could see right away that I was learning and growing from even the simple exercises we did in those 2 hours.

What I also gained from this class was a new perspective about nonverbal communication that I hadn’t realized through the previous semesters’ course.  I understood of course how powerful and pervasive the influence of nonverbal communication can be, but my primary take-away was concerned with eye contact and distracting/anxious tics and fidgeting.  In this PFP version it became clear that our stance can also have a massive influence on how we are perceived.  Greg explained a theory dating back many many years about the positive and negative energies our body exudes.  If we think about our body as existing in two hemispheres separated by a coronal plane (see below), the hemisphere in front of that plane exudes positive energy when we exist in that space, while the hemisphere behind that plane exudes negative energy when we exist in that space.

Positioning our bodies to lean into the positive space by putting body weight on the balls of our feet conveys an extraordinarily different message from positioning our bodies to lean into the negative space by putting body weight on our heels.  This becomes very evident when you get the chance to watch someone demonstrate the difference.  Witnessing the difference has sunk in, and, I think, will play an active role in my future.

Above all else in participating in and contributing to the global effort of scientific investigation, I believe it is critical that we as scientists communicate our discoveries.  If we can’t explain why and how we’re exploring our niche topic, and we can’t convey what its broader importance and impact is in the context of the world in which we live, the exploration itself becomes irrelevant.  It is imperative that we can meaningfully communicate our work, not only to our peers, but to equally qualified and intelligent colleagues in disciplines different from our own.  That much is typically accepted as true, but I’d like to push further here and insist that it is just as imperative that we can meaningfully communicate our work to our surrounding community—the public citizens among whom we live and operate on a daily basis outside of the lab.

Whether the goal is to communicate with experts in our fields, or with our grandmothers who don’t know the first thing about what we’re studying, communicating our work involves a deliberate attention to detail and a translation of sorts to adjust for our audience.  Experts investigating similar topics still require the background that is relevant and specific to your work, because that background is not necessarily universal.  While it may be possible to discuss methods in more depth and more freely, those methods do sometimes require further explanation, even to those in your field.  More practically and universally, it is always necessary to articulate the gap in knowledge, how your research aims to address that gap, and what the broader, human impact is.

Communicating with anyone outside of your field, whether that’s your grandmother or another colleague, also requires that we abandon the jargon and abbreviations we hold so dear.  Any credibility scientists may have will be completely lost when the information conveyed is too lofty, difficult to understand, and inaccessible by their listeners.  In any case, it’s also always a challenge to truly engage your listeners when communicating about your seemingly narrow and irrelevant passion.  We are obligated as researchers, whose mission it is to better society through our research, to share our findings, in my opinion.  But if it becomes too dense or boring to listen to, the message will not be received, regardless of how groundbreaking we think it might be.

Something Dean DePauw said somewhat off-hand during one class that has really resonated with me was the idea of graduate school and graduate studies resembling a higher-level liberal-arts environment.  This means so much to me for a few reasons.  My background, and the educational environment I identify most strongly with, is a liberal arts environment.  I loved the ability to be trans-disciplinary during my undergraduate years at Roanoke College.  By the time I graduated after 4 years, I had a bachelor’s of science in Psychology, a minor in Creative Writing, and a concentration in Neuroscience.  If I’d had one more semester, I likely could have added another minor in Biology or Statistics as well.  My time outside of classes was split working as a student assistant in the Psychology Department, the head student assistant and tutor at the Writing Center, and an intern/lab tech in a molecular neuroscience lab at Virginia Tech Carilion Research Institute.  Everything I did incorporated as much as I could, and that helped me thrive.

As I waded through graduate programs, I was still not entirely successful at narrowing down a field.  I ended up applying to PhD programs in clinical neuropsychology, interdisciplinary neuroscience, and master’s programs in science writing.  I was reluctant to compromise my varied interests.  Probably the primary reason I ended up at Virginia Tech in the department of Translational Biology, Medicine, and Health was because it appeared to me that in enrolling in this interdisciplinary program, I could continue to integrate methodologies, theories, and approaches across disciplines.  And I have done so whole heartedly.  My research incorporates cognitive neuroscience, psychophysiology, human factors, engineering, and healthcare practice principles on a daily basis.  I often refer to my graduate program and even my research as “a graduate school level of liberal-arts” myself, and I was beyond excited to hear someone else validate that perception.

Moving forward in my career planning, it seems only natural for me to immerse myself in that liberal-arts environment that has been so conducive for me so far.