I had lunch yesterday with a close friend who was in Seattle for a few days. Brilliant beyond belief, she's in her second year of a complex and difficult graduate program in molecular/cellular biology.
The waiter sat us outside in the shade. The bees, thankfully, kept their distance. We chatted, smiled, hugged. I drank iced tea, and accumulated crumbs on my shirt. We each bragged about our pets and boyfriends. Old times were fondly reminisced.
She told me she's having some doubts about our chosen field. She's not sure if her degree program is something she really wants to see through to the end. It's been rewarding for her, yet difficult. We discussed the often bitter culture that washes through science, particularly "hot" topics in molecular and cellular biology. I sympathized with her frustrations with the sheer competition, cruel judgements, and clashes of egos that predominate the field... yet, considering the sheer might of her abilities, expressed surprise at my friend's hesitations to... well... jump in the deep end. She assured me she'll stay in the program for now, and will at least partially complete it, but that departure is something she's considering should her mood and temper fail to improve over time.
I found myself confessing the same frustrations with the portions of scientific inquiry I've been exposed to. Constant competition. Bitter rivalry. The persistent, long hours in an attempt to meek out yet another publication a week before your twenty-seven rivals are able to churn out similar data. As one more-humble-than-most, I've never understood this level of competition. I always reassured myself that, though this sort of atmosphere seeps into every crack, every corner, and surrounds like a blanket, I could indeed avoid it, and carve out my own James-shaped Thoughtful Spot in this field. One where I'd be spared from the juvenile spats, rumor-churning, and character assassinations that do nothing to further the quest for knowledge and everything to belittle the field and those who work in it in the eyes of the public. One where I could go and teach, or have my own little slice of research to sink my teeth in.
But, in the back fo my mind, there's always been a little voice of Doubt. Can you avoid it, James? Can you really? You may declare yourself a pacifist in the Great and Useless Clash of Egos, but that doesn't mean you're immune to its effects. They can still drag you in, kicking and screaming.
I don't want this useless culture to rot my innards. To make me cruel, cold, and calculating. I can't be that sort of person, and I won't. I'd looked at my friend, already in her own program, and thought, "That's how I'll be. I can float like her." But, it looks like she might not be able to avoid the poisonous culture - she might even take a step back, and reevaluate the course she's on.
Will the same happen to me? I told her I feared sinking in graduate school. I feared the impression that I had "failed." I don't know how she did it, but she reassured me: it need not be failure. It need not be giving up. It's a large step back, and statement: "I want no part of this." But, where would I go from there? My friend knows of my other interests - history, political science, geology - my desire to teach, know, grow. Is there still time for me to switch? To make the change, should I either flounder miserably or stand up and say, "I want no part of this"?
It's the uncertainty, I think, that gnaws at both of us. We're still both hoping we can lay low and avoid the mudslinging. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, but I'm still going to do this. So is she. We're both going to try.
It's just nice to have permission to step out, just in case.
Posted by James at August 23, 2005 11:40 AM