The day the media circus came to town

Posted by Jean Adams

Is it more scary when Monty Don slags off your research on Twitter, or when a professor who you respect a lot asks you nicely to be a bit more careful with your not-quite-what-it-was-designed-for use of his carefully developed tool (also on Twitter)? How about both on one day?

What seems like a long time ago now, an MSc student emailed to ask if I’d be interested in chatting about an idea he had for a dissertation project.

His idea was simple: compare the nutritional quality of ready meals to celebrity chef meals. I don’t think the student (now graduate) in question would mind me saying that he’s not unfamiliar with a ready meal, or currently maintaining his weight within the recommended BMI range. Slightly fed up with being told his ready meal habit was bad for him, he was interested in finding out just how bad and whether it was any worse than the alternative that seemed to be in his face whenever he was eating his ready meals – something served up by Nigella, Jamie or Hugh.

In contrast, I and my co-supervisor were backing the celeb chefs. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a ready meal, and it is possible that I have an affinity for glossy recipe books that has resulted in a collection that outgrew the kitchen bookcase some time ago. Scientists are neutral (not). We might be able to collect and analyse the data objectively, but it was clear what results each member of the research team was hoping to find.

The project was perfect for an MSc dissertation: clear research question, data collection primarily via the web, fairly straightforward analysis, no ethics permission required. We joked in supervision that the BMJ would love it.

And so it came to pass that the student collected and analysed his data, perhaps stretched the use of front of pack labelling for a good gimmicky visual a bit too far, got a good mark, and toddled off back to his real job promising to send us a draft of a paper sometime. Often those manuscripts never materialise. But lo! This one did. I wasn’t absolutely convinced that the BMJ really would love it, but we’d said they would and it seemed a shame not to try. They say ‘no’ pretty quickly.

I was mildly offended when the BMJ’s response to our rather serious and important piece of work was that it was “quirky” enough for their Christmas edition. Sure it was fun and sure I wasn’t quite convinced that it was good enough piece of work to be considered normal BMJ material. But there is a serious point here: lots of public health advice suggests that people should cook from scratch and implies this is better for you than eating ready meals. If you don’t know how to cook from scratch, then it isn’t a wild assumption to suggest that you might learn from the most prominent cooks around – celebrity TV chefs. A nutritional comparison of the two doesn’t seem outrageous.

Presumably you know what our findings were? We found that, on a number of nutritional metrics, ready meals did better than celebrity chef meals, but neither of them did very well. The ready meals were less unhealthy than the celeb chef meals, but it would probably not be right to say the ready meals were healthier than the celeb chef meals.

I knew what was going to happen. I didn’t have any idea how to stop it happening. Perhaps there was none.

The BMJ went to town promoting our paper. The media loved it. We got on the Today programme headlines, the paper was covered by loads of newspapers and not just in the UK, all three of us spent most of publication day doing interviews with just about everyone and their dog. But however much we tried, it was very difficult to get the message across that neither group of meals were particularly good for you – we were definitely not saying that ready meals are the way to go. But that’s the message that everyone seemed to hear.

Ho hum. What can you do? The media circus would move on. No-one would remember. And presumably any colleagues who would, might take the time to read the paper (or at least the abstract), and not just go on what was in the newspapers?

I can understand why people went for the “ready meals healthier than celeb chefs” headline and why that then prompted all the various responses it did. But I was most bothered by Monty Don’s response. And not just because I’ve always thought he seemed like a nice, and thoughtful, guy.

Do lots of people think scientists should only do, and publish, studies that come up with the ‘right’ results? That we should make sure the measures we use are designed to come up with those ‘right’ results? What about Ben Goldacre and the All Trials campaign for open data and publication of all trial results – not just positive ones? How does that match with this attitude? Or maybe I’m assuming that Monty is more representative of ‘the public’ than he really is.

The PhD ‘Journey’

Posted by Lynne Forrest

Now that I’m in the final year of my PhD (and possibly because I’ve been forced to watch too much bad Saturday evening television) I’ve been reflecting, in true X-factor-contestant style, over my PhD 'journey'. None of it has exactly turned out as planned…

Ryan's tearful journey

Looking back, the first year now seems fabulously self-indulgent. It mostly consisted of deciding on a research topic and then doing lots of reading, whilst eventually consolidating this reading into an early literature review. I also went on a couple of training courses and planned my ethics application and data analysis. This was a great opportunity to get immersed in the literature and I wished I enjoyed it more instead of being anxious to get some data and crack on with the analysis.

My project plan assumed I would get through ethics and obtain the cancer registry data I required, early in my second year. However, in case this didn’t happen, I had a back up plan. I would conduct a systematic review of inequalities in receipt of lung cancer treatment, to provide an evidence basis for my analysis and fill in a few months until the data arrived. In fact, as it turned out, I didn’t get all the data I required until my 3rd year.

So, in hindsight, my advice would be to assume that everything will take much longer than you originally think and to always have a contingency plan. And not to worry because sometimes the contingency plan actually works out to better than the original…

The systematic review turned out to be a far more major undertaking than I’d anticipated, in terms of scope, volume and time, but did ensure that I had some results in my second year, which meant I was able to submit abstracts for a couple of conferences. I was lucky enough to win a prize for best pre-doctoral abstract and the chance to present in a plenary session at SSM2012. From this, a professor in the audience contacted me to discuss my research and I’ve now been invited to speak at a clinical conference. So, although I still find conference presentations terrifying, I’m now convinced of the value of conferences as networking opportunities.

My supervisors encouraged me to write as I went along and I think this is excellent advice. I wrote up my systematic review as a paper and, although it was turned down by The Lancet (boo!), it was  accepted by PLoS Medicine, another high-ranking general medical journal. So, a piece of work I initially undertook as a fill-in exercise has somehow turned out fantastically well….

However, the pressure is now on to keep up the momentum. In my third year I need to complete the data analysis, write up, submit my thesis and get through the viva. I also need to start thinking about what I’m going to do when it’s all over. In eight months time my PhD funding will run out, and so I need to start planning ahead now. I want to stay in academia and so am thinking about a fellowship. Hopefully by the time I come to apply I will have more publications, as good, first-author publications do seem to be one of the major deciding factors for entry into academia. My plenary presentation, prize and PLoS paper should all look good on the CV. But nothing is certain, there are many others all fighting for the same prize and the fellowship process does seem to be something of a lottery.

So, anyone out there want to offer me a job?

Speaking

Posted by Jean Adams

During most of my childhood, my dad worked for the Scottish Tourist Board. The main perk of doling out grants to tourist attractions was to be a guest of honour at said attractions. When I was about 14, he was asked to open a gliding centre on Deeside. It was during the school holidays, so I was allowed to tag along for the ride, so to speak. My one and only experience of gliding was absolutely, literally, and totally awesome. But before I got to go gliding, I had to listen politely, along with everyone else, to my dad speaking. He did so, in the middle of an air field, without notes, eloquently and succinctly.

My dad remains my public speaking role model.

Is it just me, or was he better at it last time around? (from: cbsnews.com)

Prior to beginning their dissertation project, all our MSc students have to give a presentation on their research plans to an audience of fellow students and course staff. This gives them a chance to get some feedback on their methods, to perhaps link up with the right supervisor, and to get some experience of presenting research is a reasonably unthreatening environment.

The first batch of this year’s presentations was last week. As usual, they were in a room that was just a little bit too small for the number of people in it. Everything felt a bit cramped. As usual, the confirmed staff attendance a few days before was abysmal, but we all stepped up at the last minute and there ended up being more staff than students in the room.

I didn’t do our MSc. Back in the day, perhaps before someone had worked out that it was fairly dumb to deliver the same course twice, intercalating medical students did a separate, but similar, course. But we still had to do the presentations, in the nerve-wracking environment of a lecture theatre. It was pretty scary. Despite what we’d been taught in our digital communications lessons, I’d never seen anyone successfully get a computer to speak to a digital projector. So I used overhead projector slides – perfect for a bit of added nerve-related fumbling.

I am now rarely nervous about presenting. Occasionally when the stakes are high – like the presentation you have to give at the start of a fellowship interview – I am still pretty petrified. But I think I would be in that sort of situation whether or not it involved a presentation. Sometimes I find the wait to ask a question in a seminar oddly nervy. I’m still waiting for the flood of invitations to be a conference keynote speaker. But I suspect that would also make me a bit uncomfortable.

Most people find that presenting gets less nerve wracking as they gain experience. The more you do it, the easier it gets. But standing up and speaking in front of a bunch of people who are there to judge your ideas is inherently scary. So it doesn’t quite make sense that it gets easier with practice. Perhaps all that diminishes is the nerves about forgetting what you’re going to say, or that there will be a computer meltdown. The more you do it, the more you convince yourself that you’ll be able to blag it, and that any audience would be sympathetic to things outside of your control.

Despite my apparent ease, I have still not developed my father’s skill for speaking without props. I have never not used Powerpoint, Prezi or some other visual aid. I always have notes. In most situations, I no longer practice ad nauseam, but I still do a quick run through. One day I hope to be brave enough to take the plunge and ditch the projector. One day I will stop presenting and just learn to speak.

The art of conferencing

Posted by Peter Tennant

This week, I'm off to a conference. And I'm rather excited. Partly because it looks like an interesting programme. Partly because it means two cooked breakfasts, three days away from my ethics application, and the promise of at least one authentic Birmingham curry.

After publishing papers and getting grants, 'conferencing' (to coin an evil new verb) is probably third on the list of core research duties. But so far I've found it one of the trickiest and emotionally exposing. For three days, I'm representing myself and my University. Whether I'm giving a talk, chatting to a fellow researcher, or scoffing a pile of biscuits alone in a dark corner, I'm aware I'm on display and potentially being judged. Which is particularly stressful if, like me, you suffer from Foot-in-Mouth Disease.

Of course, this (rather optimistically) assumes anyone is interested. More often than not, my main struggle with conferencing has been the feeling that no-one cares. At my first conference, I remember diligently standing next to my poster, nervously anticipating an inundation from hordes of eager researchers. Instead, after a few hours and only a short chat with a gentleman who couldn't find the toilet, I eventually trudged off to a dark corner with a pile of biscuits.

Conference posters, by Marco Delmastro

At it's worst, attending a conference as a junior researcher can be quite deflating and isolating. Especially given the senior staff seem to live in a different world, dominated by something called 'networking'. Or gossiping (as far as I can work out).

Thankfully, things are getting easier. The best conferences (including the one I'm going to this week) run special events for junior researchers, so they can escape the world of networking to share their mutual confusion, make a few friends, and hopefully have some fun.

Meanwhile, I've discovered that at least some of my conferencing problems were down to unrealistic expectations. I once had a conference ruined by orders to 'return with at least one new contact per day'. It was the most self-defeating instruction I've ever received. Not only did it make me nervous every time someone initated conversation (Potential contact! Potential contact!), but it also removed my permission to relax. It didn't matter how well the rest of the conference went, if I didn't make my quota of new contacts, I had failed.
So this week I'm just going to relax and take it all in. If I end up making some new friends, great. If I deliver my talks without making the audience vomit, even better! And if none of these things happen, there's always the biscuits...

Naked science

Posted by Bronia Arnott

Fear of public speaking is a common anxiety and when I mention it to others a frequent response is “Just imagine the members of the audience naked”. Clearly the people dispensing this advice have never given a presentation in their life, as surely imagining a room full of naked people is only going to make you laugh! And while I am all for including humour in my presentations, being doubled up with laughter imagining my colleague in their birthday suit isn’t quite what I was aiming for.

Female nude, by William H Johnson

I do use humour in my presentations, as talking about dual process theories can be a bit dry. But it is a delicate balance. After all I want to ensure that the audience is laughing with me not at me. And I want the audience to remember the take home message of my research, not some knock, knock joke.

I have been told that I need to maintain the attention of my audience throughout the presentation, to ensure that they don’t end up taking an afternoon nap during the crucial but ever so slightly dull section on the statistical analyses. There are many ways to do this according to the lastest advice; I try to relate things to real life examples and change the tone of my voice (although I haven’t perfected the ‘you in the back row pay attention’ intonation perfected by those in the teaching profession).

I have been very tempted to do a Prezi presentation – they promise to make your presentations zoom. Unfortunately, they have a bit of a reputation for causing motion sickness in your audience. And if there is one thing that puts me off giving a talk is a member of the audience being sick in the aisle.

I am a very visual person though, so I also use quite a lot of pictures in my presentations. And searching google images is a great distraction from actually writing the talk! Plus the advice from those in the know about public speaking is that lots of text on your PowerPoint slides means that the audience read what is on the projector screen and don’t listen to what you have to say. Although sometimes I do wonder if that scenario would be better for us both. After all if the audience are looking at me, they might be imagining me naked…