Tough Empathy
Empathy is my middle name (not really). I have the capacity to understand other people’s pain by virtue of having endured my own. That was more profound than this post deserves. There’s a first-year student in the lab doing an 8-week rotation in order to learn about what we do and how we do it and maybe in the process, to do something publishable and worthy of a high five. I’ve been their tutor, of sorts, and it’s been one of those experiences that has the capacity to remind one of the happiness inherent in introversion.
Empathy is my middle name (totally untrue) because I can recall with painful clarity my first rotation, which was also my first real experience in a biochemistry lab doing biochemistry stuff involving biochemistry and electricity. I lacked even the slightest clue. I had to ask the most basic questions about the most basic things. Sometimes, I’d let pride get the better of me and I’d try to do something based on memory (something that I should’ve written down, but didn’t) or attempt a shortcut in order to save time. None of these things ended well, unless learning the hard way could be considered ‘ending well’. And I tend to believe that they can be considered that way, but only to a point. That point exists precisely where the person fails to learn and just lets pride continue to steer the boat.
Hypothetically speaking, let’s say there’s a person who shows up in a lab eager and willing to learn. This person is no stranger to lab life, having spent time doing undergraduate work in a lab under the thumb of someone who sounds like an oppressive harpy of a graduate student. Now in the first rotation of graduate school, this person is chomping at the bit to be proven worthy and embarks thusly. It quickly becomes apparent that having previously done many of the techniques appears to qualify this person as an ‘expert’. What follows is a solid month of various things not working because of consistently sloppy technique, lack of attention to detail, and a sincere belief that the problems lie elsewhere.
Now let’s turn the spotlight onto the person typing, he whose middle name is Empathy (is there no end to the lies?). I show them step-by-step how and why to do things. I point out flaws in technique, the dangers of relying on memory alone to recall things, the rampant use of assumption as a method of critical thinking, etc. I ask leading questions pertaining to why something might not have worked, the answers to which, were they thrown into a pot and boiled down, would result in a sticky goo spelling out the word, ‘Carelessness’. And yet, things continue to not work. Same answers to the same questions, with no changes in action. I’ve found myself spending ungodly amounts of time troubleshooting things on my own time in order to determine how in the name of all that’s holy a result that shouldn’t have technically been possible was seen.
Imagine for the sake of explanation that a lab experiment is like building something with Legos. In order for chemical reactions to work the way they’re supposed to, they require the right Legos added at the right times and in the right order. Use the wrong Lego in the wrong place and there will be no joy (or perhaps the wrong kind of joy accompanied by fire/smoke). So, finally in the spirit of moving the project along, I start doing the same experiments and begin to get successful results, based in large part on the fact that I take the time to use the right Legos in the right ways. Today things stopped working for me because I came to a point where I had to rely on a couple of her Legos that turned out to be Lincoln Logs. Ever try building something using both Legos and Lincoln Logs? It doesn’t work. Know why? It’s because one is a Lego and the other is a GODDAMN LINCOLN LOG.
Empathy is no longer my middle name (it’s actually Michael). It’s a great little project that was designed to be straightforward and doable in eight weeks. Instead, it’s turned into the equivalent of an angry, hairy man wearing a shirt bearing the word ‘FRUSTRATION’ on the front and every day, he follows me around flicking my earlobe. It’s tempting to just start doing everything myself, just to get it done, just to move things along. If I do this, however, the student learns nothing other than how, if one fails long enough, someone else will step into the breach and save the day. This is a dangerous lesson that’s being learned, I fear, on a very large scale these days.
I’m taking this all personally, which is absurd and annoying and mildly infuriating. I know better. I’m beginning to see how I’ve been doing this person a disservice by helping to the extent that I already have. Having shown them the correct way of doing things, it’s evident that they insist upon reverting to the Speedy Gonzalez School of Biochemical Half-Assery. I’m going to do us both a favor from now on and let them fail until they succeed. Unless they don’t succeed, in which case I’ll still have done them a favor.
Sir @ September 22, 2010
You do know, though, that when they fail it will be your fault, don’t you? This person who has yet to learn from your tutorship will likely continue to place the blame elsewhere – and you’re the most likely target.
This shouldn’t deter you from your present course, though. This person should be allowed the possibility of learning the lesson you intend to teach.
damned if you do, damned if you don’t. classical catch-22. You have my sympathy, Mr. Empathy.
Where does one go to sign up for the Speedy Gonzalez School of Half-Assery? Because that diploma is one I NEED, for the conversation-starter aspect if nothing else. In the meantime, I hope your Lincoln-Log colleague figures out you’re building with Legos soon. And don’t even get me started on K’nex!
Doing biochemistry in a biochemistry lab? You had me then you lost me.
Doing biochemistry in a biochemistry lab WITH ELECTRICITY? You had me again.
Doing biochemistry in a biochemistry lab WITH ELECTRICITY AND LEGO METAPHORS? I am your blog-reading slave forever! Though I dare say you’d have better luck mixing LEGO and Lincoln Logs than you would Erector Set and Lincoln Logs. And don’t get me started on Tinker Toys. Those bastards don’t mix with anything.
Maybe they/she will end up making top notch shampoos. Can’t screw with the goo too much with that job, right?
Why do you hate America?
“….if one fails long enough, someone else will step into the breach and save the day…..” happens to be one of the founding tenets of the Democratic Party. Paraphrasing, of course, as the original idea is stated: “If you repeatedly screw it up, they won’t ask you to do it any more.”
If you remember only one thing I’ve said, it should be this: the primary reward for being a great worker is more work.
In a world that values slackassery, you keep tilting at windmills, my friend.
this is both the best part of teaching – when they get it! – and the worst part of teaching – when they don’t even care to try and get it. or: there are some great people out there, but there sure are a lot of douchnozzles too.
also, that “frustration” shirt: poop brown with piss yellow writing, i think.
good luck, sir. good luck.
I’m having a similar problem with an intern right now. The problem is that if I let her fail at her portion of our project, it could result in an irreplaceable historical artifact being broken or infected with mold (which can only be mitigated, not ever really killed off). I wish we were working on Legos, or even Lincoln Logs–they would be easy to build custom artifact boxes for, and they would probably respond well to a mild Lysol solution…
While stumbling around the internets, I somehow happened upon this blog. All I can say is….WOW! You sir, have quite a gift. I can’t seem to pull myself away from reading post after post, and am sure much time will be spent in the coming days doing more of the same. Thank you, and please keep it coming.