Last week, Rick Mercer went on a rant about science – about how impressive it is that scientists managed to land on a comet half a billion kilometres away, about how the current Canadian government fails to support “pure science,” and how the Canadian public is “as passionate and curious as anyone else.” While I would agree that the comet landing is neat and that there have been governments that were more supportive, I’m not so convinced by the (lovely!) idea that the Canadian public loves science.
I believe Rick Mercer thinks that science is cool, and I even believe that he would be pleased to see his tax dollars (and maybe even his charitable dollars) go to support blue-sky research. But I do not believe Mr. Mercer’s idea that Canadians as a whole are interested although I, like him, would wish it to be the case. I think Mr. Mercer’s claims about Canadians’ passions are anecdotal at best, and lack any evidence – indeed it is possible that Canadians don’t give a hoot about science for science’s sake.
I’ve spent the better part of the last 15 years doing scientific research and outreach in Canada and the United Kingdom. To me it appears that, despite science influencing just about every aspect of their lives, the average Canadian adult does not particularly care about how or why something works. Canadians care about cures for their loved ones, faster mobile phone technologies, higher-resolution televisions, and fuel-efficient cars and homes.
In the U.K., things are not perfect but they are much much better when it comes to the public support of science. I’ve long wondered why this is the case (perhaps it’s Canada’s resource-based economy or its shorter history) but whatever the reason, these feelings are well-supported by comparing the volume of media and public policy related to science. In the U.K., there are incredible books and radio/television programs produced (many exported, e.g., Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time, David Attenborough’s Planet Earth) that present science and nature as interesting components of our daily lives (I’ve previously compiled these thoughts on the Signals blog). By comparison, very very few people in the U.K. have heard of the Canadian science juggernaut David Suzuki. Despite his great stuff, it underscores just how parochial Canadian culture can be.
I am not trying to insult my country – I am a very proud Canadian – but I do worry that we get complacent when things are rolling along without crisis. I worry that we get lazy when it comes to supporting science in schools and do not demand better programming from our media. People watch Planet Earth because it’s really well made and doesn’t feel like you’re learning. Where is that calibre of programming in Canada?
Perhaps, Mr Mercer, the current government is simply reflecting the average Canadian adult’s priorities … could it be?
I would love to be proven wrong and I hope that this article might inspire some more efforts to create a better public understanding of, and support for, basic scientific research. There are amazing groups working in Canada to change these attitudes – Let’s Talk Science, the Canadian Science Writers Association, Actua – but really we need strong political leadership at universities, schools, Parliament and in the business community. Inspire Canadians to care about comets, wildlife, and geology … and maybe, just maybe, Canadians will change their country (and the world!) in all sorts of cool ways.
Foreword from David Kent: Dear readers, last week I spoke out about the lip service that is being paid to the value of academics that choose to be science communicators, but I did not mean to under-value the contribution that such activity has for making the scientific research environment a better place and for helping the public understand (and get excited about) the work their tax and charitable dollars support. Indeed, this is why both Jonathan and I (and our guest bloggers) make the effort despite the potential drag on our own career trajectory. We feel these efforts are valuable, they stimulate ideas and they get people talking about ways to change things. The comments on our site constantly inform the direction of the blog and the guest posts are wonderful examples of researchers trying to make the future training and research environment a better place. I encourage all our readers once again to contribute to the conversation – write blog entries, write comments, write emails to us, write your MPs and your department heads. Today’s post from Jonathan really underscores the reality of starting the conversation – we write each article with an opinion that can stimulate a conversation. We hope that people respond to that stimulus. Enjoy reading.
This should come as no surprise, and yet the distinction is paramount. Journalists are professionally employed to actively research news stories, compile facts, and provide an objective account of an incident, condition or discovery. The profession has developed a variety of ethics and standards to define how information should be collected and disseminated and, to their benefit, reporters and the news organizations they work for, strive to maintain a standard of quality in the stories they put out.
Bloggers, by comparison, are most often hobby writers employed in other professions, with unique perspectives on matters of personal interest to them, which they then communicate in opinion pieces, typically of 500 words or less. Blogging has seen a particular explosion in popularity with the advent of the Internet and social media – which has facilitated the dissemination of ideas to much greater audiences than “bloggers” were typically afforded when they went by the name “Op-Ed Columnists.”
Blogs are often used as vehicles to sway social and political opinions and policies, and The Black Hole is no exception. Blogs typically pride themselves in their biased perspectives, which are more often than not highlighted in their values statement. In our case, this appears on the top-right hand corner of the screen, and at the cost of redundancy, is reiterated here:
The Black Hole blog focuses on issues affecting early career scientists in Canada.
Topics covered include science policy, science communication, and the education and training of scientists in Canada while also highlighting career opportunities and resources.
The blog is written by a group of early career researchers and led by Dr. David Kent, a Canadian postdoctoral researcher currently at the University of Cambridge.
This does not mean that we do not strive to get our facts right, or research the content of our pieces before we publish them. What it implies, however, is that the amount of time afforded each particular piece is limited by our word-count, and are biased by our experiences (both Dave and I are full-time academic research scientists who maintain this blog for its social value and its value to early career scientists). Where we get facts wrong, we rely on readers to correct us, and wherever our viewpoint lies (be it populist or extremely far from center) we expect them to counterbalance. Unlike reporting, which is meant to disseminate information in one direction, the Black Hole strives to be a conversation and encourages guest blogging for this reason.
While perhaps overly “meta-“ for this post, it has been my experiences that blog articles are more reflective of the character of the authors than they are of their “beat”– and our readers stand to glean more about our value systems than the topics on which we write. It is an interesting psychoanalytic exercise that has seen Dave and I air our grievances with higher education in a manner that is both cathartic for us, and (I hope) of some value to you.
While opinions are like bellybuttons (in that everybody has one), it should be stressed that Dave and I are both successful academics and our assessments of this space are heavily informed by relevant experiences and therefore worth considering (whether or not you are in agreement). We regularly invite our readers to contribute posts of their own, and I extend the invitation again here. For those of you who share our background, I should caution that we take for granted how inaccessible our profession is to non-academics and junior scientists.
This is our vehicle to change that.
As many of my colleagues know, I have spent the last number of months applying for pots of money for my research. Just as in Canada, these monies are typically supplied though government agencies or charitable organisations. Over the last two decades there has been a steady increase in the excitement for and provision of science outreach and granting agencies have openly supported these knowledge translation efforts. Much has been made of the need to create a 21st century scientist who performs excellent research and communicates this research effectively. Bold claims have been made at the granting agency level:
The CIHR says a lot about knowledge translation - it “is a fundamental part of CIHR’s mandate”.
The MRC in the UK calls it public engagement, but it clearly gives knowledge translation the same priority – “Engaging the public in dialogue about medical research is part of our mission”.
With such high prioritisation, the question becomes whether or not this strong encouragement for the well-rounded researcher actually transfers into the decision-making processes that determine who gets funding and/or jobs? I have my doubts and, based on my recent experiences, I am beginning to worry that such activity negatively affects a young researcher’s chances of academic career progression.
One of the granting agencies that I am applying to encourages applicants to discuss their application prior to submission with the program manager. As part of this process, I submitted my CV and abbreviated research proposal for a first look. The feedback I received was extremely surprising in the context of the statements above. While my research proposal was positively received, it was advised that I restructure my CV since it “took a while” to get to the important parts which were used to evaluate a young researcher’s potential. I was told that my CV was so full of non-reserarch activities that it looked like I didn’t have any time to do research. I took this to mean that my publications and research activity (conferences, peer review, awards, etc) were not front and centre and the teaching/training and public outreach style activities (including this blog!) could be hidden away. So, I redesigned and resubmitted to the same office.
The response this time: “Looks great, you’ve really improved the CV in particular”.
The (perhaps generous) reality is that peer reviewing systems are so overloaded that reviewers do not have the time to filter through a young scientist’s track record in public engagement and the result is that a CV detailing such activities are a distraction from the “important stuff” – the publications, the previous awards, the invited seminars.
After this experience, I asked several colleagues for their opinion on whether public outreach efforts were seen as a positive or negative – many spouted the “distraction” refrain, others insisted that it would not negatively affect your applications, but it probably did not positively affect your application. Nobody said that it was an essential (or even desired) quality looked for on evaluation panels.
Next I thought about my own experiences – I look at my fellow bloggers on the scientific Signals blog – most are no longer pursuing academic research careers anymore (despite being amongst the most experienced in communicating science to the public). I look at my former colleagues that coordinated university Let’s Talk Science programs – again the vast majority are pursing non-academic careers.
The annoying thing is that there is enormous lip service paid to attracting and encouraging young scientists with the ability to communicate their research (and science in general) to the public, but this is matched with rather underwhelming career support. In fact, my experience leads me to believe that, if anything, it is seen as a detrimental distraction to an otherwise productive scientific research career.
Just be straight with applicants – your research (read “publications”) is all that counts – don’t focus on anything else. However, my fingers are crossed that this recent tale is an isolated incident and I would LOVE to hear from our readers who may have sat on grant or fellowship panels where someone’s non-research activities tipped the balance in their favour. Otherwise, it is really unfair to encourage emerging young researcher’s to undertake science outreach in any form, but rather they should focus on one more experiment, one more paper, or one more paper review for their boss.
It should come as no surprise that I am a strong advocate of knowledge translation. While this has customarily meant making science accessible to persons that are not experts in one’s field of study but are otherwise important supporters of one’s work, translating research across language barriers even within a field is an equally important pursuit. Indeed, while most impactful scientific journals today are published in the English language, I shudder to think how much excellent science is being published in other languages to which I have absolutely no access. How often has a cursory internet search in your primary discipline pulled relevant manuscripts in Spanish, French, German or Italian, which you have all but ignored?
While the humanities have done a far better job of translating their most important work across many different languages, a large number of relevant research will inevitably slip through the cracks. This is why I was so enthralled the other day while I was reading through this manuscript from Kaufman et al. (1965), and came across the paper summary, an excerpt of which I have included here:
What struck me was the inclusion of a summary in Interlingua, which I had no trouble comprehending despite it not being written in any of the languages to which I have some cursory fluency in. Interlingua, which I later discovered was developed as an international auxiliary language (IAL) between 1937 and 1951 by the International Auxiliary Language Association (IALA), is the most widely used naturalistic IAL that I had never heard of, and the second most widely used IAL after Esperanto. Developed to combine a simple, mostly regular grammar with vocabulary common to the widest possible range of languages, written Interlingua is comprehensible to the hundreds of millions of people who speak a Romance language.
While the practice of including an Interlingua summary at the end of every published work is no longer common practice (if it is presently done at all) – society would be very well served by investing in an application that can translate published work into Interlingua, and journals should host Interlingua translations of their manuscripts online to better disseminate research worldwide. The better understanding of the natural world is, above all else, a collaborative venture and I for one would certainly appreciate more access to my colleague’s works.
Earlier this month, I was gobsmacked when a colleague told me of their paper’s afternoon journey from submission to acceptance in a peer-reviewed journal. Not only was this a lightning fast acceptance, but it was the paper’s first submission, i.e., it had never been through peer review. It was received by the editor, read by the editor and accepted by the editor all within a four-hour time frame – and now it’s online as a Letter to the Editor.
Just a letter to the editor
People make the argument that this report is merely a letter to the editor and therefore is simply a commentary or “useful tidbit” for the scientific community. However, this particular paper has two data figures, one of which has extensive cellular characterization that certainly represents data which could (in theory at least) be unfavourably received or criticized by peer review. So, in effect, data now sits in black and white on the website of an important “peer-reviewed” journal not having been peer-reviewed by anyone else other than the editor.
Still counts for the impact factor
The really alarming thing about this practice is that it will contribute to the artificial inflation of this journal’s impact factor. Letters to the Editor do not contribute to the denominator of the impact factor, but citations they receive can contribute to the numerator – it’s basically like giving away free impact factor points. One wonders if the speedy acceptance had anything to do with a world expert in a field at the University of Cambridge reporting a useful tool for others in the field – d’ya think? To me, this represents complete and utter professional misconduct – the editor should be ashamed to put his/her name to the journal’s editorial board.
So, what can be done?
Aside from the massive overhaul of the peer review and academic publishing system that Jonathan and I regularly bang on about, some simple steps can be taken: 1) Thomson could reform its impact factor calculation such that nothing that appears as a “citable” item can be excluded from the denominator; 2) professional editors in academic publishing could establish a professional ethics standard that discourages anything in a peer-reviewed journal from escaping proper peer review.
Perhaps this is a one-off exception and this is the only journal that permits such practices. Perhaps, but considering I’m still at a relatively junior career stage and I’ve heard about this, I’m willing to bet our readers can share a story or two about similar practices in their own field.
At the end of the day, scientists need to step up and demand better from academic journals. If the industry is going to be run by professionals, then the least we can do is demand better standards.
Biomedical research at academic institutions is mostly funded by federal agencies such as the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and National Science Foundation (NSF) in the United States, and the Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR) and National Research Council (NRC) in Canada that are themselves supported entirely by taxpayer dollars. While scientists are required to justify their research programs to a committee of peers in order to secure grants, few efforts are made to communicate this research to the lay public that funds them. The result has been an increasing disconnect between basic science and its benefit to society.
Most people have a very limited grasp of the state of the art in any given research discipline and the advancements in that field that they help support (see, for example, this editorial in Nature Chemical Biology and a similar opinion piece on science and democracy in The Scientist). Not surprisingly, this has had longlasting implications on how society approaches both short- and long-term policy decisions, and affects the state of science funding in our country.
“There are good reasons to regain the respect of the public. At the end of the day it is the taxpayer who elects the government that controls the purse strings and, consequently, the direction that science takes.”
- Who is Directing Science? Sarah Tilley, 2002.
One solution I propose is for publicly funded research groups, as a major stipulation of their grant, to produce two- to three-minute videos every five years that summarize their research programs. These should be published in open-access journals or academic department/university, public health organization, or grant organization websites where they can be accessed freely by the general public. Indeed, a major limitation scientists have faced communicating basic research to the lay public has been a tendency to ramble, provide too much detail, use technical jargon that is otherwise meaningless to non-specialists (and oftentimes other scientists), and lead/follow their descriptions with multiple, often unnecessary, caveats that undermine the credibility of the work and diminish the listener’s interest.
While efforts such as the American Society for Cell Biology’s (ASCB) Elevator Speech Contest at the society’s 2012 annual meeting are a step in the right direction (Communication: Two minutes to impress), more needs to be done to disseminate this understanding to the larger public. Short descriptors of publicly funded research projects are useful when fielding questions about one’s job, asking for money, talking to politicians, wooing potential collaborators, and even during casual conversations with friends. Scientists have a social responsibility to educate their communities about the importance of the work that community is helping support, and the current state of the art in the field in which this work is being done.
Part of communicating that message is making sure it bridges the divide between basic science and public interest. Animating complex biological processes contextualizes them within their underlying physiology, identifies gaps in our mechanistic understanding, affirms the importance of continued research, provides a bridge between academic scientists and the lay public, and can help promote individual research programs, departments, and institutions. Most importantly, animated videos can justify to taxpayers the considerable costs and time-to-completion inherent to basic research by explaining both the process and ultimately the value (both social and economic) resulting from their investment.
This idea is by no means novel, and was the topic of a NatureJobs column titled “Animating Science” which emphasizes that with the right execution animation promotes science in an engaging, memorable, and concise format. My foray into animating science has been through the support of a project led by Alice Chen (a professional animator) to produce a children’s book titled Lucea Lights Land and Sea that teaches children the basic concepts of bioluminescence, adaptation, and biodiversity in an engaging and entertaining manner.
While I am not proposing that we all write books (although who better suited to engage children in science than scientists themselves?), academic researchers could traverse the present disconnect between their own work and the lay public’s understanding of it by producing short videos describing their scientific projects and affirming the importance of continued biomedical research.
To prove that and how it can be done, I have produced a video series on the topic of platelet production (my personal research interest). To prove that video summaries of basic research projects are not just of value to the general public, but to scientists at large (e.g. as a teaching tool), and confirm that there are concrete academic/career benefits to the researcher in producing similar animations (e.g. self-promotion, recognition amongst peers, publication record), I have published this work in the Science and Society section of the journal Trends in Molecular Medicine. (You can follow this link to view the manuscript, and I encourage you to read it alongside this article.)
Specifically, this manuscript highlights the value of scientists interacting more closely with animators of the purpose of better communicating their research to a wider audience using platelet production as an example. In it I raise emerging concepts and ideas regarding how scientists can best communicate/translate their basic research to the lay public, other scientists and clinicians, and should be used as a guideline for generating videos of your own.
As always, I am happy to take your comments, and look forward to continuing the discussion of how scientists can take meaningful steps to address the increasing divide between basic science and public interest below.
Calling all North American funding agencies!
Researcher mobility appears to be a high priority for funding agencies and universities, and it has many advantages for the science community – most importantly the sharing of new ideas and the formation of new networks. Recently, there has been a backlash against the “need to move,” with many scientists doing perfectly well in their current city/institute and relocations being costly in terms of time and money.
Loss of (or reduced return on) pension contributions is one of the many annoyances contributing to the latter. But finally there is a step in the right direction coming from Europe: the RESAVER Pan-European Pension Fund. It won’t launch until next year so I cannot comment on its mechanics nor its financial benefits/drawbacks. But, if it does what it says on the box, it will be an incredible boon for young researchers.
In excess of those for whom shifting pensions would be inconvenient, the larger class who stand to benefit from RESAVER are international postdoctoral fellows. There are a huge number of scientists on temporary contracts in foreign countries for whom it does not make financial sense to start a pension. Indeed, many pensions requires multiple years of contributions before any benefit is received. This means that those on short-term contracts would be foolish to sign up for such a plan, yet many contracts in the laboratory sciences are just that – fixed terms of 1-3 years. A plan like RESAVER would permit a researcher to leave their home country for an unspecified term and contribute to a pension plan where the benefits would transfer back home without losing out.
Consider this: the median age at PhD completion in the United States is 31.8 years (2012, NSF statistics). It is less likely that students have sufficient funds to contribute significantly into pension plans, meaning that they are already behind their peers who elect to become teachers, lawyers, accountants, etc. Now, after their training, should one of these recently minted PhD holders decide to move abroad for 3-5 years (or more!) of postdoctoral research, they are all of a sudden finding themselves, through no fault of their own, moving back home as a highly trained researcher without a dime in pensions at the tender age of 37.
An internationally transferable pension plan would alleviate a significant portion of this problem, but pension plans are incredibly difficult to set up forms scratch. This is what makes the RESAVER programme even more incredible since the European Commission has provided funds under it’s Horizon 2020 program to help establish the pension fund.
As it currently stands, this style of plan would give European researchers a solid financial reason to make their academic re-locations within Europe to retain the benefits of their plans, potentially hampering recruitment efforts by other countries.
For these reasons, I urge Canadian funding agencies and universities to consider such a progressive programme – at the very least within North America, but ideally worldwide. International fellows represent more than 50% of Canada’s young scientific talent and this would be a massive step forward in supporting this cadre of researchers.
Our summer posts had a theme it seems – something we didn’t plan, but which has resulted in a small series of posts on misplaced priorities in academic research. From my post on academic bullying to Jonathan’s on the difficulties resulting from indirect costs levied by universities to our guest blogger Damien on hiring strategies in laboratories. The comments were plentiful and gave us a good indication that these problems (and proposed solutions) need to feature more frequently on the blog.
One of the comments (thanks David!) directed me to something I’d not heard of before: The Polymath Project, where problems in mathematics were crowd-sourced by Tim Gowers. This is a wonderful example of collective problem-solving ability. I wonder if it would have legs in the life sciences… But, as I mentioned in one of my posts this summer, life sciences seems to be focused on individual success/reward structures.
Jonathan and I will of course write much more about these topics in the future. But for now, let’s recap the summer’s posts:
- The math of academic research grant support doesn’t add up
- The honour society: value in social exclusion
- How to build Canada’s science and technology infrastructure
- Scientists should strive to win the world cup, not the golden boot
- Is the academy worse than the fashion industry for “following the leader”?
In last week’s blog post (“How lab managers hire for science“), Damien raised an interesting point regarding best hiring practices for new academic faculty that I felt should be highlighted here. Damien recommends that when screening research-scientist candidates for the lab, principal investigators should “identify individuals who lack skills that a new investigator can provide. A candidate applying to medical school or to grad school will be seeking research skills and recommendations. Eliminate all other candidates who don’t fall into these categories. It’ll save time by eliminating applicants who are seeking alternative limiting resources, like higher pay” (my emphasis).
This is an interesting perspective for our site because Dave and I spend so much time advocating in favor of higher salaries for trainees, not lower. And still, Damien’s advice is not wrong. The reason is as follows, and I am using this year’s R00 National Institutes of Health (NIH) grant as an example:
On a 2014 R00 independent research grant awarded by the NIH to qualifying recipients upon securing their first independent academic faculty position, total costs are limited to $249,000/year for three years. From this the institution subtracts its indirect cost rate, which varies between institutions but at Brigham and Women’s Hospital is currently set at ~77% of direct costs. Briefly, yearly costs are calculated as follows:
[total cost] = [direct cost] + [indirect cost] = $249,000.00
[direct cost] = [total cost]/[1.(indirect cost rate)] = $249,000/1.77 = $140,677.97
[indirect cost] = 0.77*[direct cost] = 0.77*$140,677.97 = $108,322.03
Research budgets for academic scientists are limited to their direct costs. A budget is calculated per year, and includes the following major line items to which I have attached conservative costs based on my own career experiences:
[salary] = $75,000
[fringe benefits] = [fringe benefits rate]*[salary] = 0.35*$75,000.00 = $26,250.00
[publication cost] = [cost of publication]*[# of publications per year] = $5,000.00*2 = $10,000.00
[research cost] = [direct cost] – [salary] – [fringe] – [publication cost] = $140,677.97 – $75,000.00 – $26,250.00 – $10,000.00 = $29,427.97
In many American institutions such as mine, salary for academic research faculty is not supported by their departments or institutions, and must therefore be derived entirely from their research grants. To sustain research funding, academic faculty must spend the greater part of their time writing academic grants. The percentile rank up to which academic research grant applications in the U.S. will receive funding currently averages 12%. As a result, performing actual research becomes nearly impossible without the help of a junior research scientist (trainee).
The NIH has set minimum yearly salaries for trainees for fiscal year 2014 at the following:
[predoctoral] = $22,476.00
[postdoctoral, 0 years of experience] = $42,000.00
Remember that this is base salary and does not include fringe benefits. Despite the fact that salaries for academic research scientists are already low and do not increase with inflation, new faculty cannot afford to hire help without further institutional support. Nevertheless, academic output is measured by the number of peer-reviewed scientific publications, and the expectation for academic faculty at top-tier American research institutes is to publish at least two papers per year.
Institutional support (when it is available) typically takes the form of a one-time start-up package that supplements grant funding for 1-3 years. More often than not, start-up funds are used to purchase necessary equipment, and at best provide new academic faculty a short-term solution to funding their academic research program. New academic faculty are therefore expected to apply for (and receive) continued grant funding while maintaining a successful independent research program without help on less than $30,000/year.
Increasing research salaries, while desirable, is therefore not possible without an accompanying cap on institutional indirect cost rates. Efforts to do this have been met with strong resistance by top-tier American research institutions. The alternative is to increase academic research funding, which is not likely in the near term.
At the end of the day the numbers need to add up, and despite the strongest possible track record of past funding and publications, research plan and drive, the current math of research funding does not support a successful academic career.
We are very pleased this week to introduce a guest post from Damien Wilpitz, an experienced laboratory research manager at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. Damien is also the founder and manager of Experimental Designs Consulting, a management consulting firm specifically tailored to new academic science faculty. His article this week (hopefully the first of many) focuses on a critical area where young investigators typically drop the ball – new hires.
Most academic life science investigators struggle in the early years of lab start-ups, not because of their science, but from poor lab management. Much of this mismanagement invariably comes from poorly managed teams. For example, we all know a postdoc, tech or grad student who doesn’t seem to be pulling their weight. We have no idea why the principal investigator keeps them around. They haven’t produced any data for months and they hardly come in.
Some investigators find it very challenging to manage difficult personalities or to fire people. These lackluster teams are usually put together by investigators who are the under stress to produce. Therefore they try to hire quickly and cut corners in the process. This is where mis-hires begin. The costs associated with mis-hires can be staggering.
The age-old saying goes, hire slowly and fire quickly. However time isn’t necessarily on the side of a young lab leader.
I’ve been a lab manager for the better part of two decades and consult on a regular basis with young investigators. I found solutions and trends that offer strategies to ensure a great hire and will save precious time.
1. Categorize candidates according to the lab’s strengths. Eliminate the rest.
To quickly filter through a lot of applicants, there should be key metrics or categories for screening applicants that play to the strengths of a new investigator. Identify individuals who lack skills that a new investigator can provide. A candidate applying to medical school or to grad school will be seeking research skills and recommendations. Eliminate all other candidates who don’t fall into these categories. It’ll save time by eliminating applicants who are seeking alternative limiting resources, like higher pay.
2. Utilize technology to save time that would otherwise be wasted on scheduling.
Scheduling those in-person, face-to-face interviews can become a big time suck. Conduct preliminary interviews over the phone or via some form of video conferencing, i.e. Skype or Facetime. It’s more convenient for both the investigator and the candidate. Once you feel comfortable with candidates over a phone/Skype interview, you can then bring in the top two to three for a face-to-face interview.
3. Have an interview/dialogue with all references.
The third and most important strategy for hiring, and where spending time is actually important, is in the reference checks. I find principal investigators aren’t spending enough time on this part of the process. Reading a reference letter or email is not enough. It’s important to have a dialog with a prospective candidate’s references. This can create a clearer picture of the candidate. Letters and emails cannot convey the same level of intonations and emotions as human dialogue, and a lot of the most important information about a candidate can be inferred by reading between the lines.
I routinely use these strategies to help new and established investigators build strong solid teams. Great scientific teams start from hiring. By cultivating great teams through a purposeful recruitment process, your odds of continued success improve dramatically.