When I was a grad student and imagining being a professor the part I looked forward to most was teaching. I knew it was such an important role for a scientist, to pass on how the brain worked, to enable others to take up their own research, their own quests.
Yet when I started taking teaching roles I learned very quickly I was not good at it.
I spoke too fast, I rushed through topics because I knew them well, I didn’t consider how new ideas were landing on fresh ears. My main thought was, don’t bore them! If they’re bored they will tune out and you’ll lose them forever. So I almost never repeated information I tried to cram in all the details. At some point when students came in for extra help I discovered I was going to fast, leaving many behind. After that my confidence was dampened: I’d search my students’ eyes to see their engagement and even when I went very slowly I could see their minds were miles away. I started to realize no matter fast or slow I went, that some students just didn’t find my teaching interesting. That ability to hold a room, to exude the charisma to have people pay attention, that was not a talent I had.
During my post-doc it became clear I wasn’t going into academia or teaching—and this was a relief. Industry research would allow me to apply my studies to the world much faster, but industry was notoriously secretive. Anything I found out couldn’t be discussed with the outside world until it was vetted by lawyers and markets.
Naturally this made me sad, because I still wanted to teach others, to see that light of understanding. And this was also a time where it was increasingly clear that the general public distrusted science, especially industry science. After all, why would you trust a company whose reseal has all about trying to ultimately sell you something?
Then I discovered a different kind of teaching, grounding new concepts in science with personal stories. There’s something about having a personal experience that illustrates a science concept that make it seem real, something you can learn from and apply to your own life.
I have many examples of this. One example is when I was doing undergraduate research on MDMA, commonly known as Ecstasy or Molly. This amphetamine-like drug was shown to destroy serotonin receptors over time, making it more likely that users would become depressed. But the lab I was working in at the time had demonstrated that if you take Prozac, or any serotonin re-uptake inhibitor at the same time as taking Ecstasy, you could protect your serotonin receptors.
When my lab first presented this finding I thought immediately of my friends who were into party drugs like Ecstasy. Here was some information that would help protect them from depression. The next time my friends planned on taking Ecstasy, I brought along some Prozac (a drug you could easily get at the college clinic), and begged them to take it. At first they pushed back, not wanting to dull the effect of MDMA. But when I explained the consequences, and made it clear this was about their lives, their brains, they agreed to try it out.
It was an amazing feeling, seeing what I researched being translated into information that could protect my friends’ mental health. And so I was hooked: teaching is all about letting others know about your research in a way that applies to them. Since then I’ve discovered that turmeric and omega-3 oils help generate new neurons, that probiotics and berry flavonoids help decrease anxiety. This is how I can help teach and guide others towards better brain health. This is how I can make a difference.
— siobhan
Yet when I started taking teaching roles I learned very quickly I was not good at it.
I spoke too fast, I rushed through topics because I knew them well, I didn’t consider how new ideas were landing on fresh ears. My main thought was, don’t bore them! If they’re bored they will tune out and you’ll lose them forever. So I almost never repeated information I tried to cram in all the details. At some point when students came in for extra help I discovered I was going to fast, leaving many behind. After that my confidence was dampened: I’d search my students’ eyes to see their engagement and even when I went very slowly I could see their minds were miles away. I started to realize no matter fast or slow I went, that some students just didn’t find my teaching interesting. That ability to hold a room, to exude the charisma to have people pay attention, that was not a talent I had.
During my post-doc it became clear I wasn’t going into academia or teaching—and this was a relief. Industry research would allow me to apply my studies to the world much faster, but industry was notoriously secretive. Anything I found out couldn’t be discussed with the outside world until it was vetted by lawyers and markets.
Naturally this made me sad, because I still wanted to teach others, to see that light of understanding. And this was also a time where it was increasingly clear that the general public distrusted science, especially industry science. After all, why would you trust a company whose reseal has all about trying to ultimately sell you something?
Then I discovered a different kind of teaching, grounding new concepts in science with personal stories. There’s something about having a personal experience that illustrates a science concept that make it seem real, something you can learn from and apply to your own life.
I have many examples of this. One example is when I was doing undergraduate research on MDMA, commonly known as Ecstasy or Molly. This amphetamine-like drug was shown to destroy serotonin receptors over time, making it more likely that users would become depressed. But the lab I was working in at the time had demonstrated that if you take Prozac, or any serotonin re-uptake inhibitor at the same time as taking Ecstasy, you could protect your serotonin receptors.
When my lab first presented this finding I thought immediately of my friends who were into party drugs like Ecstasy. Here was some information that would help protect them from depression. The next time my friends planned on taking Ecstasy, I brought along some Prozac (a drug you could easily get at the college clinic), and begged them to take it. At first they pushed back, not wanting to dull the effect of MDMA. But when I explained the consequences, and made it clear this was about their lives, their brains, they agreed to try it out.
It was an amazing feeling, seeing what I researched being translated into information that could protect my friends’ mental health. And so I was hooked: teaching is all about letting others know about your research in a way that applies to them. Since then I’ve discovered that turmeric and omega-3 oils help generate new neurons, that probiotics and berry flavonoids help decrease anxiety. This is how I can help teach and guide others towards better brain health. This is how I can make a difference.
— siobhan
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