Department Chair Survival Guide

As I come to the end of my 7^th year as Department Chair, I can’t help but reflect on the ups and downs of my time so far. I wrote about the lessons I learned in my first year as Department chair and it’s fun to look back at that, but whoa… was there a learning curve! At that time, I commented on how much I learned, and how much I have yet to learn. I still believe that I have a lot to learn, but I also feel that I have a lot more to offer now.

My School has two new Department chairs starting this fall, and I’ve been thinking about what advice I might give them as they embark on their new adventure, and what advice might have been helpful for me 7 years ago. With these thoughts in mind, I put together my Department Chair Survival Guide. Coincidentally, there are 7 points. I’m not saying that I only learned 1 thing each year, but if you watch enough NCIS (and I’m addicted to it), you know that there’s no such thing as a coincidence.

#1: Don’t let a pandemic break out.

OK, so this is not necessarily something you can plan for, nor is it within your control. But my job COMPLETELY changed when the COVID-19 outbreak occurred. Everything changed in March 2020. Most challenging for me was trying to reconcile my desire for my colleagues to, most importantly, look at after their own health and the health of their family. But I also had to ask my colleagues to do more – change how they were teaching, perhaps when they were teaching, how they engaged with each other… everything was different. Frankly, so much changed that was out of my control, and I think that I suffered tremendously from that lack of control.

There were some positives, though. For example, I chair a Department of Epidemiology and Biostatistics, and where better to be during a pandemic? I am surrounded by smart people, many of whom study just this thing! It was my distinct pleasure to see my colleagues, particularly my junior colleagues, quoted in the media, working with health departments (locally and internationally), and helping to guide response at our institution.

#2: Have (and retain) fantastic faculty.

I am so honored to work with faculty who enjoy doing their jobs (most of the time). They love teaching and mentoring students. They are curious folks who are excited to learn new things. They are truly invested in making our Department better. Working with faculty who are fantastic really makes my job easier. Now, I was fortunate to inherit great faculty when I came to my institution, but we also worked together to ensure that we hired great faculty who share our desire to train outstanding students, who are asking important research questions, and who want to continue to build an amazing Department. And we have worked hard to create a culture and environment that faculty do not want to leave.

#3: Have (and retain) amazing staff.

Faculty alone don’t make a Department, and I’d argue that amazing staff are even more important to a Department’s success. And the staff in my Department are AH-MAY-ZING! The staff are the first line of defense for almost everyone who comes through the door, they have institutional knowledge, and they know “who to know” at your University. Frankly, on a day-to-day basis, the staff are the people I interact with most, and I am so lucky to work with such great staff. Anyone who knows me knows that they better not fuck with the staff. I will take their side every day of the week (and often do).

#4: Assess and refresh regularly.

When you’re in the same job for a long time, it’s easy to get stale. I’m about to do annual reviews for the 8^th time, for example. But it’s not just annual reviews, it’s the 8^th time I’m going to do a lot of things! And as I’ve aged, so have the members of my Department (except for the students – they continue to stay the same ages year after year!). So, I regularly assess what I’m doing and how I can do it differently, not only for my own sanity, but also so that I can make sure that I’m doing all I can to ensure the members of my Department have opportunities for success. Changing the way things are done from time-to-time isn’t always easy, and isn’t always well-received, but doing so provides opportunities for leaders to emerge in the Department and for people to learn new skills, and creates opportunities for me to see things in a new way. It also keeps my job from being boring and helps me to be excited about my job. And being a chair is definitely a labor of love, so without excitement for the job, it can be a slog. A major slog.

#5: Have a support network.

There’s a saying that: “It’s lonely at the top.” While being a Department Chair isn’t quite “at the top,” it is a leadership role, and it can definitely be lonely. I work with the best people, but at the end of the day, I do their annual reviews. When issues arise, they often arise among their colleagues, and it isn’t appropriate (or fair) to share those. So it is important to have a network to rely on for support, to vent to, and to laugh with. It is also helpful if these are people you can share a meal or a beer with, and even better if you can share a meal AND a beer. For me, my support network includes other chairs (both locally and within my field), as well as other academic leaders at my institution and elsewhere. My School has only 4 departments, so our group of chairs is small and close-knit – we work together a lot and experience many similar challenges. But some of the challenges are different, and it is great to be able to reach out to other Biostatistics or Epidemiology chairs when discipline-specific issues arise. I’ve also never been afraid to reach out to others to ask for help and have developed great relationships with some mentors in that way. I feel very fortunate to have so many people to turn to… leadership definitely has not been lonely for me.

#6: Relatedly, have a life outside of work.

And just as it is important to have an academic support system, it is important to have a life outside of work. Oh, and to prioritize this so-called “life.” I am so fortunate to have a family that I love, hobbies that I enjoy (although my husband likes to remind me that watching TV is not a hobby, ahem – NCIS is definitely a hobby), and friends who I spend time with. Over the last 3 years, I have decided to prioritize my health and fitness, to the extent that I occasionally rearrange my meetings to accommodate my training schedule. This is not only a way to stay physically healthy but also a way to stay mentally healthy. Don’t get me wrong. I work a lot. A lot a lot. But I wouldn’t enjoy my work without something else to sustain me. I take vacations. Real vacations, where I don’t even check my email. I take weekends off. I do things to restore my energy so that I’m ready for work.

#7: Remember why you’re doing the job you’re doing.

I think it is easy to lose sight of why we serve in the roles we serve in (regardless of the role). We get so caught up in the day-to-day of our jobs, we forget what motivated us to choose our professions. I sought out my role as Department chair for many reasons. First and foremost, I see my role as a service to others, and through my position, I seek to make their lives better, their successes greater, their joy happier. This is a tall order, and it is what continues to motivate me after 7 years:  my desire to help other people be successful. This is true for students, faculty, and staff. And as I’ve grown over the last 7 years, I’ve found other reasons that it is important to do my job well. I’ve seen amazing leadership emerge from among the members of my Department, and I’ve realized that I have an opportunity and a responsibility to provide mechanisms for growth and leadership for my colleagues. Further, in my role as Chair, I can influence the academic opportunities for our trainees through adding new academic programs and critically reviewing our existing ones, and it is important to me that we do so. I’m excited about the changes we’ve made, and continue to make, to ensure that we are providing the best education to our students. I have personal reasons I enjoy being Chair, as well – primarily among them is that I am presented with new challenges every day, forcing me to constantly learn and try new things. And as an academic, what is better than a job that allows me to continually learn?

The job of Department Chair is not easy and is often referred to the as “middle management” and sometimes called the most difficult role in academia, due to being sandwiched between the Dean and the Department. Despite the challenges, these last 7 years as Department chair have been the most rewarding of my career and I’m excited about the years to come.

Dear Email

Dear Email,

I’m breaking up with you. Our time together has been great, but I think the time has come to say goodbye. In the beginning, you were so much fun! I remember those early days together fondly – I would come to the computer lab on weekends to see you and never knew what to expect. Would you bring tidings from faraway places? Laughter shared with our friends?

Over time, the day-to-day settled in. You stopped being so spontaneous. Our time together was more mundane, the laughter less often. The faraway places got closer and closer, until I felt like the tidings were coming from next door. Literally. Sometimes, you made me cry. Still, though, the happy times outweighed the bad.

But now? Now, you are ALWAYS there. You don’t give me any space. Morning, noon, night, 7 days a week, there you are, always demanding my attention, expecting me to drop everything for you. I never have any “me-time” anymore, it is always “we-time.”

I’m sorry I let it get to this. So, I’m breaking up with you. I hope we can still be friends, and I’m sure we’ll still see each other occasionally, but I can’t take it anymore.

Best,

StatGirl

Running from a Pandemic

I am a runner. It’s how I unwind, how I clear my mind. I do other things for exercise, sure – last year I completed my first triathlon, and I do enjoy swimming and biking. But nothing clears my mind and grounds me like running. I started running when I was in college, when I needed ways to separate myself from my schoolwork. Well, that’s not quite true. I ran track in high school, but I was a sprinter – I couldn’t run more than 200 meters without throwing up. In college, I found that a run was a good way to settle my mind and see things more from a new perspective. That calculus problem that I couldn’t solve? Often after a run I could understand the solution more clearly. In graduate school, I would say to my advisor, “While I was running, I realized that…” – it became a way to see my problems differently. Even now, sometimes I’ll get home from work, tired and frustrated, and acting not so nice. My husband will say: “Maybe you should go for a run.” And he’s right – it works. As I’ve grown and changed, why I run hasn’t.

 

Since this pandemic has started, and especially since non-essential businesses have shut down, I’ve been seeing lots of other runners out all of the sudden. At first I was resentful – where were all these people in the middle of winter when it was 10 degrees and dark at 6 a.m.? But then I remembered that gyms are closed and people are trapped inside, and maybe when there isn’t a global pandemic, people have other ways to clear their mind. But now they run.

All of what is going on isn’t easy for anyone right now. I find mornings especially difficult, waking up and readjusting to this new normal.  Then I quickly have to transition my mind to working all day – my calendar has blown up with check-in meetings that didn’t need to be scheduled before, because they happened naturally. In the hallway on the way to the bathroom. While making my coffee or heating up my lunch.  And now meetings that might have been 30 minutes are longer, because we all need to check in – we are missing regular human interaction and are taking advantage of every chance we have to get it. Emails take longer – besides the regular business I am writing about, I also need to check on those around me, let them know I’m concerned. Because I am. I’m concerned about the people around me. And they are concerned about me.

There is a famous quote from Mr. Rodgers: When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the new, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping. I am often that helper. But who helps the helpers? I am learning… we are all helpers. Sometimes I am the helper for you, and sometimes you are the helper for me. My colleague, understanding my fear of not being good enough in the class I have to step in and teach this quarter, the one who sent me the blog post reminding me that this is hard for our students, too, and perhaps compassion is more important than being the best educator? She is my helper. My family, with whom we’re having virtual happy hours? They are my helpers. My colleagues at other institutions, who are tweeting happy thoughts, asking silly questions – colleagues I’ve never met in person – they are my helpers. I am so fortunate to have such a community to support me.

This morning, I read a column on Medium, “Trying to Stay Sane During COVID-19,” written by a friend of mine. I was so startled to see myself reflected in her words. How could it be that she knew just how I felt? How could she see my thoughts, my fears, my guilt? And then it hit me… we are all feeling this way: scared, exhausted, unable to concentrate, unable to control what is next. And it is terrifying, particularly for those of us who have a great need for control. I realized that my friends and family are feeling this too. I know that when my almost 13-year-old son asks if I need a hug, he isn’t picking up on my fears, he’s expressing his own. And I happily take those hugs! I know that my 16-year-old daughter is in denial when she tells friends that there’s still a glimmer of hope that the high school play, for which she’s the assistant production manager, will still go on. Oh, sweet girl, there’s barely a glimmer of hope that you will go back to school. But it breaks my heart to think that, let alone tell her.

And when friends and family ask me for help understanding what it means to “flatten the curve“, or in my educated opinion, when will we be going back to life as normal? I am so embarrassed that I can’t answer them based on my own research – my everyday life is so overwhelming I don’t have time to look at the data, let alone the ability to concentrate on it. In a couple of weeks I’ll be participating in a webinar about clinical trials of treatments and vaccines for COVID. I am a clinical trialist. This is what I do. This is what I’ve done for nearly 20 years now. Yet I’m terrified. What if I can’t clearly explain the situation to those listening and I cause more fear and confusion rather than less? These worries now replace my earlier worries that keep me up at night. I construct slides that explain randomization and that show timelines for drug development in my dreams, and promptly forget all my good ideas when morning comes. But there is help – there are other experts doing great work right now who I can refer my friends and family to, whose work I can reference while preparing for my Webinar.

There are silver linings. While the days are filled with work – work that I can’t concentrate on because of my fear, and my concern for others, in the evenings, we spend time as a family, recounting our ups and downs of the days, watching Jeopardy, and taking long walks with the dog. In our usual life, we are often running around taking one kid to soccer and the other to rock climbing, scheduling around theater rehearsals and Hebrew school and my own busy work travel. I am so thankful for this time with my family. My daughter will be going to college in a little over a year, and I know that she doesn’t want to be stuck at home with her family all the time right now. But what a gift to have this time.

And my mornings are quieter without the rush to get to the train, to get to the office (although I’m still managing to be late for so many Zoom meetings). And so I run. I’ve run more lately than I usually do. Some days I run slowly, with tears running down my face, wondering when life will return to normal, and wondering what normal will be like. Some days I run with urgency, feeling a need to go faster, farther. And when I see other people running now, instead of wondering where they’ve been, I wonder what they’re running for? You see, we’re all running some race right now. We may be going different paces, with different obstacles in our way. We may have different goals, running different distances, and it’s not my place to wonder why people are running. It’s my job to run alongside them (with 6 feet between us) and help them get closer to their goal. And to let others run along with me, and help me get where I am trying to go.

The Calm Before the Pandemic

I don’t remember a lot about 9/11. I mean, I remember the day and how it unfolded. I was a doctoral student, and I remember that we heard something happened, but we couldn’t get on-line to see. We finally tuned in to the local NPR station, and heard the reports of the planes flying into the towers. I remember that we were all stunned, and I remember walking home with a friend of mine, and watching the news all day. I remember going to see the Vagina Monologues that night with two friends, doing all we could to feel like everything was normal, even if only for a short time. And I remember the fear in the days following… going to a football game at the Big House, the largest audience gathered to watch a football game in the country, and being afraid. The fear lasted for a long time, and even still I sometimes think about what could happen when assembled in large groups.

But I don’t remember how I felt before 9/11 happened. Because I didn’t know it was going to happen, I couldn’t mentally prepare for it. When the coronavirus has come and gone, and life gets back to normal, I don’t want to forget what I’m feeling now.

For context, here’s what has happened during the course of the last week, as we started to learn how much life was changing, and just how fast. At my institution, as of last Monday (3/9), travel was restricted and we were just learning that final exams (scheduled for the following week, as we are on the quarter system) might be held online – by Wednesday, we had confirmation that indeed finals would be held online. My department had planned a Pi Day event for Friday, the 13^th, and a Departmental Celebration for our graduates for Monday, March 16. Our school leadership had an emergency meeting on Thursday to determine if we should cancel all school events – so far the University administration had not closed the campus, nor had they restricted gatherings. We agreed to abide by the guidelines in place so far, although there was much uncertainty among us. By Thursday evening, the University had made the decision to restrict events to <50 people, to lengthen Spring Break by a week, and then to start the Spring quarter remotely. On Friday we reconvened, and decided that events schedule for Friday would proceed. Those scheduled the following week would be reschedule. Our Pi Day celebration had a surprisingly large number of people in attendance! Friday evening, the University notified the students, faculty, and staff that work would take place remotely for the foreseeable future, with the exception of lab research. On Monday, March 16, research was ceased, and we learned the Spring quarter classes would be delivered remotely for the entire quarter, and all non-essential businesses in the city of Philadelphia were to close.

Throughout all of this, the show must go on! The last week of the Winter quarter is the time that all of our 2^ndyear students do their presentation of their culminating projects. This is a fun opportunity for our students to show the faculty, and each other, what they’ve learned during their Master’s project. For many of our students, this is truly their graduation, as it brings together many of the skills they’ve learned during their time in our program. I just kept thinking that we needed to get through this week – we needed to complete all our presentations. I’m so glad that we did, and that we were able to allow our students the opportunity to show off their learning. I’m so thankful that we did not deprive them of the chance to show us the public health professionals they’ve become.

Although I had received communications from the University regarding what sorts of actions to take (or not to take), as the Department Chair, I also continually assessed the situation and made decisions appropriate for my department. I have been sending a lot of emails to the Department. With each new communication, I’ve emailed the students, updating them about the changes to the academic schedules and the modes of delivery, and reminding them of resources available to support their physical and mental health. I’ve emailed the faculty and staff, again reinforcing the information I was receiving from the University, and also indicating the need for taking care of each other and ourselves.

I work with a lot of very smart people, and I’ve relied on many of them to help me make decisions about what was right. I feel fortunate to have colleagues, other leaders, that I trust and who trust me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about leadership during this time. What makes a good leader… how some leaders are good in trying times such as these, but others are not. I have a lot of respect for the leaders in my institution: the decisions they were faced with, and continue to face, were difficult and based on accumulating information that is still changing. I’m confident that they are doing the best they can.

In addition, the landscape for my children is changing quickly. Our public schools were closed on Tuesday, March 10 for cleaning as there was a possible coronavirus exposure by someone who may have been in contact with school kids. Further, the district planned to close late in the week so that teachers could prepare to teach remotely. On Thursday (March 12), the kids school dismissed early and by Friday we knew that they would be out of school at least through March 29. We continue to receive communications about how their schooling will look going forward.

By the time I got home from work on Friday, March 13^th, my head was spinning. I had information overload. I was just learning about social distancing, was following startling updates from a friend who was quarantined at home in Italy, and was trying to process all the information about the virus that was coming at me so quickly. I shut down. I drank a glass of wine, watched Jeopardy with my family, and went to bed early. I did not sleep well.

Saturday morning, I reached out to a retired faculty member from my Department who lives nearby, and reached out to my cousin who lives alone, also nearby. I wanted to make sure everyone had everything they needed. My husband and I broke the news to the kids that during this time at home we would be practicing social distancing, and so there would be no hanging out with friends. This was not so easy for my teenager and almost teenager to accept, and my heart hurt as we explained to them the realities of this virus – it is unlikely that we would be seriously affected by infection, but we could pass it along to others who could. We are doing this to protect our parents, their grandparents. To protect others who need it. It is good public health, we told them. I think that, because I work in public health, they initially blamed me. This is not my fault, I explained. We are all in this together.

Saturday afternoon, my husband and I went on a long bike ride. We are fortunate to have lovely trails nearby, and we took advantage of that. Apparently, so did everyone else! I have never seen the trails so crowded! I guess the gyms closing, together with the nice weather, was the perfect excuse for everyone to get out and enjoy the sun. We rode past a favorite brewery – under normal circumstances we would have stopped. These were not normal circumstances… but perhaps the crowds of people gathered at the brewery did not realize this. Shocking.

Saturday night: family game night – we played Pandemic. We’re so ironic. I did not sleep well again on Saturday night, even after riding 22 miles. I can’t stop thinking about this virus, the impact it already has on us, the impact it will eventually have.

On Sunday, I got up, walked the dog, and went for a run. Just like any other Sunday. But it wasn’t any other Sunday, and the stress of all the change and uncertainty was starting to weigh on me. I snapped at my family – maybe they deserved it, but maybe I was being too harsh. Then, I learned that I will have to teach next quarter, and I cried. I couldn’t imagine one more thing on my plate. My husband, who I’d snapped at only minutes before, didn’t say a word, and just held me and let me cry. I needed to let it out. All of this has been so much, and I haven’t given myself any time to take care of me.

I pulled myself together for a family hike at Valley Forge. We are a hiking family – we spend a lot of time outdoors, and again, I’ve never seen so many people out and about. I wondered if we were really practicing social distancing if we were passing (and being passed by) so many people on the trail? Being outside helped my state of mind, and by the time we got home, I was feeling better about the opportunity to teach. It will be a lot of work, but I know I’ll get through it.

Sunday night, again, I did not sleep well. Still too much to process.

And now Monday – the first day of remote working. I have a new staff member joining my research team, scheduled to start today. One of my colleagues had planned to come in to the office to onboard her, and I felt it necessary to also be in the office to help. It was essential for us to get her up and going so that she didn’t have a lapse in pay, also we wanted to make sure she could start telecommuting right away. So I went to work, despite my desire to stay home and do my part to flatten the curve. Rather than taking public transportation as I usually do, I rode my bike to and from work. I wiped down all of common area with Lysol wipes, and I stayed a healthy distance from anyone else who was in the office. It was a long day, filled with plans for the short-term changes, and as I left, I felt a sense of loss – a feeling like this would be the last time I would be in my office. Rationally, I know I will likely be back soon. But it felt so strange to walk out the door not knowing when “soon” would be.

As I was riding home, I was thinking about my new employee, and the difficulty of starting a new job under these circumstances. My new colleague is young – probably too young to remember 9/11 at all. I realized that for her, this would be a defining moment – the “where were you when…” moment. I realized that she will not soon forget her first day as part of my team. I wondered whether she felt afraid when she came into the office, unsure about whether there would be too much contact with others. I wondered whether we’d be able to acclimate her to the position remotely, whether we could make her feel a part of the team through our Zoom encounters. I wondered whether 20 years from now when she looks back at this time, would she remember her first day as part of our research team fondly?

As I settle in to this new reality, I hope that my ability to concentrate improves. Right now, I am unable to focus for long periods of time, doing only what I need to do to meet very specific deadlines. But I’m having a hard time thinking about the annual report that is due, when I know that there are people in my community who will go without meals because school is out. I’m having a hard time working on various papers that are in progress, when I’m worried about my colleagues, my friends, my neighbors, my family. I am allowing myself this time to focus on what’s important – not beating myself up for not getting very much work done. Rather, I’m beating myself up trying to think about who I’ve forgotten. Who haven’t I checked in on? The senior member of my department who was on Sabbatical in Israel, and was frantically trying to get home to meet his son, whose college was shutting down? Check. My statistician who was celebrating her father’s birthday with a once-in-a-lifetime trip to India, who was scheduled to come home this week? Check. My students, whose lives are all changing – this isn’t what they signed up for! Check. The international students in the Department who may live in campus housing, which is now shutting down? My parents, who are not homebodies, who just want to go out for bagels? Check. Me – the person who is busy worrying about everyone else – have I checked in with me?

At times like these, it is important that we are not too hard on ourselves. Work will always be there, for sure. But we must take care of our physical and mental health. There are lots of suggestions for maintaining positive mental health while social distancing. UCSF has published Tips and Resources to Manage Coronavirus Anxiety, and the CDC has published some guidelines, as well. Also, remember that social distancing does not mean social isolation, and that we are fortunate to live in a time when we have a lot of different media available to us to communicate with our loved ones. Finally, keep in mind that there are activities you can do while social distancing, and there are museums and galleries that have virtual tours.

I do not know what the future has in store for us. Things are changing quickly, and while I deal every day with uncertainty in data, I do not like uncertainty in my life. I do not like the not being able to tell my Department that everything will be okay – that teaching remotely will be fun, and will give us all the same sense of fulfillment that in-person teaching does. I do not like that I can’t tell my kids when they can safely spend time with their friends again. Like after 9/11, I feel afraid; but this time not afraid of what has happened but of what is yet to come. Afraid of what I cannot see; afraid of what I do not know. But I know that like after 9/11, the time will come when the fear will subside, and life will go back to normal… whatever that might be.

 

Baby, Baby, Baby Oh*

My daughter recently turned 16. It’s unbelievable that 16 years have passed since my life changed forever. It got me thinking about the challenges of being a parent, which led to thoughts about the challenges of being a mother – especially during graduate school.

When she was born, I was still a graduate student. My husband and I got married young (we were 22), and our life plan was: PhDs, jobs, house, car, dog, baby. No one told us that our PhDs would take so long… sometime around year 5 of our degrees, we started to wonder how long we should wait to start our family. We decided that there was no time like the present – we weren’t getting any younger, and there would never be an easy time. Besides, our student health insurance was outstanding, and when would we ever have the flexibility we had as students (I know now – NEVER!)? We were finished with our coursework, and “just” working on our dissertation research. We decided the time was now. We had no idea what we were getting into.

Being pregnant as a graduate student was not easy. There was some precedent in my department, a classmate of mine had given birth the year before, but it wasn’t very common among my peers. I was fortunate to have two classmates who were also expecting around the time that I was – one had graduated before her baby was born, the other never finished her PhD. Data on completion rates among doctoral students who become pregnant are hard to come by, but research in the UC system by Mary Ann Mason and others suggests that female graduate students and postdoctoral fellows who have babies during their training are more than twice as likely as new fathers or women without children to turn away from an academic research career. And if you believe the whispers… pregnant students don’t take their education as seriously and aren’t likely to finish. But it doesn’t matter, since pregnant graduate students don’t really want to have a job anyway, right?

Even though my husband and I planned our pregnancy, I was terrified to tell people I was expecting. Around the end of my 1^st trimester, before I’d shared my news with anyone (including my parents and in-laws), my doctoral advisor suggested that I submit some of my recent work to an international conference. I remember the day so clearly. It was during Christmas break, and since my mentor and I are both Jewish, we had decided not to cancel our regular Friday morning meeting. We were going over some of my recent results, and he suggested I begin preparing an abstract to submit to a conference in London. I started to cry… and told him that I couldn’t go to London because I’d be having a baby shortly after. His reaction surprised me. He congratulated me, and asked me why I was crying. He said: “This is great news, how are you feeling?” He was much more excited about my good news than he was about my good results. In that instance, he taught me how much more important it is to show your students the value of real life than the value of their research. He never waivered in his support of me as a person, or as a researcher, and still has not to this day. I continue to be thankful for the lessons he taught me about  the importance of good statistical methods, but more importantly the lessons he taught me about the value of family. To my surprise, most everyone in my Department was supportive (that I knew of), although there were classmates of mine, female classmates, who were sure I would never finish, never have a career (I showed them, huh?!).

But support ≠ ease. Being pregnant is exciting, and scary, especially the first time, and I didn’t have a lot of peers to share that with. Expectations were still high, and I was even more afraid to let my guard down, to show any hesitation or weakness, for fear of not being taken seriously. Being pregnant is exhausting, as is writing a dissertation. I’m pretty sure there is a synergistic effect of the two!

There were positives, too. The day I defended my dissertation proposal was also the day I had my first ultrasound. I was able to keep my proposal in perspective… whatever happened, I was going to see my baby for the first time. And you think a dissertation defense is grueling? Try being in labor for 60 hours. A dissertation defense will feel like a walk in the park! In all seriousness, defending a dissertation is hard. But being pregnant, having a baby during this time did help me view the process a bit differently.

From: xkcd.com

When our daughter was born, my husband and I were in the throes of dissertation writing. We were naïve new parents, thinking we could alternate days staying at home with her and going to work. What could be better! Every-other-day I got to bond with my daughter, and in between I was going to write a dissertation. Boy, were we ever wrong. Really, every-other-day I sat on the couch in my pajamas and watched Dawson’s Creek reruns, while breast feeding a crying baby (I’m team Pacey, in case you’re wondering), wondering if I was ever going to shower regularly again. And on the other days, we spent so much time getting back up to speed on our dissertations, progress was slow. After 4 months, we put her in daycare 3 days a week. This gave us each more time at work, and also gave us each a day alone at home with our daughter, but was also costly. We were so lucky that the University of Michigan provided a childcare subsidy for graduate students at that time (they still do, BTW). And I am so thankful for that time with her, I didn’t realize it then, but it was such a blessing to have that.

As you might guess, I did in fact finish my PhD, even after having my daughter. She was 9 months old when I defended my dissertation, and she was 11 months old when we moved to start my first tenure-track job. But before that, I had to find that tenure track job. Which meant interviewing. With a baby. That I was nursing. As I started to look for jobs, I wondered how potential employers would perceive me as a young woman with a baby. I knew I wanted an academic position, and I was pretty sure I wanted a tenure-track position. At the time, I wasn’t aware of the challenges mothers in academics face. Had I known, I’m not sure if I would have been more motivated, or discouraged, honestly.

I spoke at length about job opportunities with my mentor. As a very collaborative statistician, I admired his career path, and was interested in finding a position that similarly valued collaboration (now we call it team science). As a nursing mother, I was terrified about interviewing, recognizing the additional “burden” bringing me to visit might be on an institution. Once again my mentor surprised me. “If they don’t want to schedule you pumping breaks, you don’t want to work there anyway.” Such a simple statement, yet it had such profound impact on me. He was right… why would I want to work at a place that didn’t value me for more than my research from the get-go? Our work is so much than a place we go for a while each day – I spend more waking hours at work than any other place, including with my family. That is a huge sacrifice that I choose to make every day. I want to make that sacrifice in a place in which my time with my family is not only valued, but celebrated. And I was fortunate to find that.

Being a mother as a graduate student certainly wasn’t easy. The similarities between the other students and me became fewer. My responsibilities had changed, and so had the demands on my time. Happy hour didn’t happen quite as often, and when it did, frankly – it wasn’t quite as happy. My baby didn’t sleep well for her first 8 months, so I was pretty much a zombie. I was continually worried about keeping this little person alive, while simultaneously worrying that I wouldn’t finish my dissertation. I didn’t realize having a baby would be so difficult, and I don’t think I was very good at it. I learned that is was possible to hate being a mother, while at the same time loving your child unconditionally. Motherhood didn’t feel natural to me, and I worried that this was some sort of inherent flaw in me. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to about it, to help me understand that these feelings were not unusual. We had no relatives nearby, but were so fortunate to have lots of “family” that we chose – we had support from lots of friends, who quickly became Aunts and Uncles to my daughter. Without their help, I’m not sure we could have made it. I’m not sure I would have made it.

And of course, I was fortunate to have a partner who actively participated in child rearing (and still does). Data on single mothers in graduate school are hard to find, but data about single mothers in college suggest that the numbers of single mothers in college are growing, but that the rates of graduation are lower than for women without children or married mothers. I imagine obtaining graduate degrees is similarly difficult for single mothers.

I can’t say that graduate school was the best time to have a baby – I have limited context to compare it to (my son was born partway through my tenure track, another story for another time), but I also can’t tell you it was the worst time. The fact is, there is just no best time for anyone to start a family, and the factors that go into making that decision are different for everyone. For us, we thought it was the right time to have a baby, and I don’t regret our choice. And I don’t judge others for their choices; it is not my job, nor is it my responsibility. Rather, it is my responsibility to ensure I can help support others’ success in the context of the choices they make. That means being honest about the challenges and rewards of being a parent while a graduate student, and doing my best to provide support to ALL students, regardless of their choices.

*Note the shout-out to Justin Bieber with this Blog title (much to my 12-year-old son’s chagrin). While I don’t think he intended for the words to refer to an actual baby, well… I just couldn’t resist the chance to make my son cringe.

Why Tri?

If you know me in real life, you may know that I recently trained for a triathlon. That’s right, in addition to being a Department chair, a researcher, a teacher, and a mentor, I decided to train for a triathlon. And oh, yeah, I’m also a parent, a wife, a daughter. I’m sure you’re wondering: “What the hell are you thinking?” OK, fair question. I also wondered what the hell I was thinking. But I’ve wondered that about myself before, when I was getting my PhD. And if you read on, you’ll see that training for a triathlon is not so different from, say… getting a PhD!

If you’re not familiar with triathlons, they are comprised of three back-to-back events: a swim, a bike ride, and a run. The distance of each depends on the specific race, and can range from relatively short (such as what I trained for: 300 meters, 9 miles, 3.1 miles) to very long. Athletes who decide to do a triathlon are often skilled in 2 of the 3 events, or perhaps only 1 of three. For example, a lot of runners decide to train for a tri, so preparing for the event requires training in the pool and on the bike.

Similarly, obtaining a PhD requires competency in 3 primary skills (as opposed to attributes, which are considered innate): research, writing, and presentations, and most students are not proficient in all three when they begin their training. So earning a PhD requires gaining skills in new areas, through “training” (e.g. coursework and practice).

And just like you don’t wake up one day and say: “I think I’ll do a triathlon today,” you don’t wake up one day and say; “I think I’ll get my PhD today.” Both require planning and training. Both require fortitude and courage. Both require you to really examine your own abilities and skills, and make a plan for reaching your goals.  And if you’ve read my blog before, you’ll know that I am a goal setter. Having goals motivates me, keeps me headed in the right direction, for both physical and academic pursuits. So for each, you set out on a plan. Maybe this week I’ll bike 5 miles twice a week, swim twice, and run 3-5 miles, but next week, I’ll up my mileage and have new goals. Eventually, I’ll have all I need to complete the entire race. Similarly, as I tell my students regularly, no one sits down and writes a dissertation. When completing a PhD, you also set shorter term goals – when you’ve met enough of those short-term goals, it sums to one dissertation! Essential to completing each is a training plan. As graduate students, we may be still developing the right skillset that allows us to develop a strong one, but working with a mentor to do so can help keep you moving. Similarly, I consulted with experts to help me develop a training plan for the triathlon.

Many of my friends and family know that I’m training for a triathlon, and like during my PhD, don’t understand my motivation. Isn’t a half-marathon enough? Isn’t a Master’s degree enough? That said, at least when people ask me when my triathlon is, I know (unlike the date of my dissertation defense for SO LONG)! But regardless of what people think, regardless of how crazy they think I am, my friends and family are my biggest supporters now, and were when I was working on my PhD.

“Piled Higher and Deeper” by Jorge Cham
http://www.phdcomics.com

While it may seem like these are completely different pursuits, each has both a mental and a physical component. It may be easier to envision the physical component of the triathlon, while it is easier to see the mental component of getting a PhD. But I argue that completing a triathlon requires mental training, just as it requires physical training. Convincing yourself you can do it as you slog through another rainy run, or a gruelingly hot bike ride. Urging your body on as you move from one event to the next. All of this requires mental toughness, which arises through training. And while it is clear how completing a PhD requires mental activity, there are times as a doctoral student that require physical toughness. For example, sometimes it is necessary to sacrifice sleep in order to run an experiment or to write a paper.The process of learning is simply physically taxing at times, and during a PhD, you are constantly learning.

 

“Piled Higher and Deeper” by Jorge Cham
http://www.phdcomics.com

Other similarities: Both require endurance. Both allow me to eat whatever I want. Both are completed by only a small percent of the population (2% of the population has a Phs; estimates of the % of US population >18 years of age completing a triathlon in 2013 are around 1%). Both require a fair bit of blood, sweat, and tears. Both provide you with an immeasurable sense of satisfaction when you complete them.

For each, failure is a possibility. Failure along the way, such as an injury that causes a setback in my training, or failing a qualifying exam. Or it is possible to get to the big day, and not be successful. And from failure comes possibility – the possibly of discovering new ways of training, or new ways of learning. However, for both, if you’ve trained well, failure is highly unlikely.

And while training for a triathlon and doing a PhD share many similarities, there is one clear difference. Although I’ve already signed up for my next triathlon, I can promise I will never, ever do another PhD. Thank god.

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Special thanks to my guest editor, who provided valuable feedback.

Imposter Syndrome: Thy Name is Statgirl

I have a great view of Drexel as I walk from my train to my office. And recently as I was taking that walk, I started thinking about my first trip to Drexel, when I interviewed for my current position as Department Chair. I was thinking about the cab ride from the airport to my hotel – I remember feeling somewhat disoriented, unsure about this city I was largely unfamiliar with. After I got settled into my hotel, I met a local friend for a run and then we had dinner. I’m sure I must have said to him “Why am I here? I’m not ready for this! This is crazy!” a thousand times. Did I mention I met a very patient friend for a run and dinner? This was to be my first interview since I’d left my doctoral program, and I just wasn’t sure I was ready. In fact, I was sure I wasn’t ready, and even more sure that at some point during my interview, the folks in the Department were going to figure it out, too. Would they just end the interview right then and send me home early? Would they pretend that everything was okay and then laugh about it after I left? What if they told other colleagues that I knew nothing? What if I was only there because they didn’t have any other women candidates, and they needed to show that they had a “diverse” search? I was suffering from imposter syndrome. And the more I thought about it, the further down the rabbit hole I fell. I don’t remember the conversations my friend and I had over dinner that evening, but I’m sure he told me (a thousand times) that I’ve got this. That I’m ready. That I’ll be great.

The term “imposter syndrome” was coined by clinical psychologists Pauline Clance in Suzanne Imes in 1978, referring to a pattern of behavior in which people doubt their accomplishments and have a persistent, often internalized fear of being exposed as a fraud. The original Clance & Imes paper focused on women; however, further research (including by Clance) has acknowledged that imposter syndrome is shared equally by both men and women. Lucky all of us. Not a lot of data exist about imposter syndrome in academics, although there  are a lot of stories and blogposts discussing it. What research is out there suggests that imposter syndrome tends to occur more frequently among high-achieving people, and there is some evidence that black students experiencing imposter syndrome also have higher incidence of anxiety and depression (reminder: correlation ≠ causation).

Of course, my story ends happily, right? Drexel offered me the position, and I accepted. Four years in (!), I am confident that I’m good at what I do (most of the time), and I can show concrete evidence supporting growth and development in my department. But that doesn’t mean my imposter syndrome is cured. I still regularly wonder if I’m good enough. I’ve been fortunate to be asked to speak frequently about non-scientific topics. I almost always say yes – often these are topics I feel passionately about, such as: diversity and inclusion, sexual misconduct, work/life integration, leadership. More and more young folks have been contacting me to see if I can meet during conferences or set up a time to Skype, just to “talk about career stuff.” While I’m extremely honored that others believe that my experiences can help contribute to their success, and again, I almost always say yes, in the back of my mind, I’m thinking “Why aren’t they asking me about my research? Maybe my research isn’t good enough?” I’m often quick to point out that I’m still quite research active, as if I feel like I need to continually prove myself because after all, isn’t your academic worth judged by the amount of grant funding you have? Yet when I speak to others, I emphasize that success is not one-size-fits-all. Imposter syndrome lives on.

My story doesn’t end there. Recently, I had two different academic situations arise in which I was passed over for recognition. I have no idea what rationale was behind each, but of course in my head I’m sure it is because I’m not good enough. I’m not good enough at my research – too collaborative when I should be more theoretical. I’m not a good enough leader – too much of a servant leader, not visionary enough. I’m not a good enough teacher… the list could go on and on. And while the rational me recognizes that these thoughts are silly – we can’t get every award we are nominated for, every job we apply for, every grant we submit an application for, every promotion we seek – that doesn’t keep these thoughts from coming up.

And, God forbid, I start thinking about what’s next for me. I’m often asked if I think I want to be a Dean. I usually respond that I’m not sure. That I like being a Department Chair. That I worry that it would provide me with fewer opportunities to work with students, which I love. That I wouldn’t be able to work as closely with faculty,  which I also love. That I would feel disconnected to my field. And all of that is true – when I think about being a Dean, I think a lot about what would change from my current job and I’m really not sure I want all of that change. But what I neglect to say is that the thought of applying and interviewing for Dean positions scares the shit out of me. I think I have a skillset that would lend itself well to the job of Dean. But what if I’m not a good enough leader? What if I can’t raise money for the School? What if my research isn’t good enough?  What if… what if… what if…? Maybe it’s time I start asking: “What if I’m really good at it? What if I can help more people find their own path to success through this role? What if the things I’ve done to this point ARE good enough?”

There are a lot of solutions to imposter syndrome out there – everyone from Time to The Chronicle of Higher Education to Forbes. Experts have different advice: “Fake it ‘till you make it” or “Stop comparing yourself to other people” or “Realize that no one actually knows what they are doing.” Thinking through the solutions, practicing the suggestions, could be a path towards feeling imposter syndrome less acutely. For me, talking to others and realizing that I’m not alone in my insecurities has been helpful. But not curative.

I have no idea what’s ahead for me. But as I was walking to my office, thinking about my first visit to Drexel and about my fears then, I realized that it’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. As long as I have patient friends and family, who will listen to my fears, and help me see past them. As long as I have new opportunities to show me I can be successful. As long I continue to help others accomplish their goals. While I’ll never get rid of imposter syndrome, I’ll be okay.

The Breakfast Club

The Breakfast Club is a 1985 John Hughes film about five high school students who are assigned to a Saturday detention, and who represent different high school cliques: the jock, the nerd, the rebel, the princess, and the outcast. The cast has members of the “Brat Pack” – Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, Ally Sheedy, Emilio Estevez, and Anthony Michael Hall, and IT IS A CLASSIC. It is one of those movies that I know well enough that I can quote much of it. If you haven’t seen it, head on over to YouTube or Netflix or any other streaming service and check it out (after you finish reading this, of course).  Anyway, this group comes together for their detention wary of each other, and each with their perception of the others just based on their appearance. They start off in quite an adversarial way, each rebuking the others. But by the end of the movie, they realize that they are more similar than different, and walk away perhaps not as friends, but at least with a better understanding of their Shermer High School community.

When the American Statistical Association (ASA) Task Force on Sexual Harassment and Assault was brought together, the membership may have felt similarly to the Breakfast Club. We came from all corners of ASA Community, each representing our own interests and experiences. And like in the movie, we started off not really knowing each other nor how we viewed the job in front of us. We each had our perceptions of the others based on what little we knew about them. And maybe some of us felt that being appointed to the Task Force was sort-of like detention (but hopefully not!).

In a previous blog post, I described how the Task Force was born, and while I did publish an update in the Amstat News, I haven’t blogged about our progress since. As we are nearing the end of our duties, I thought it would be good to report what we’ve been up to, and what happens next.

When we set out, we had the following charge:

• Assess the extent of sexual harassment/assault in the ASA community
  • Review surveys used by other professional organizations to assess the prevalence of sexual harassment/assault;
  • Develop a survey to administer to the ASA membership to assess the frequency, location and kinds of harassment/assault occurring;
  • ASA leadership to distribute the survey to ASA membership
  • Summarize the findings from the survey
• Review the current best practices of professional organizations and academic institutions with respect to sexual harassment/assault.
• Consider creation of a resource that allows victims of sexual harassment and assault to anonymously receive support.
• Make recommendations to the ASA Board of Directors regarding sexual harassment/assault policy changes for the organization.

We naively thought that our work would be fairly straightforward. How many different conduct policies could there be? It turns out, at the time that we were beginning our work, the #MeToo movement moved into high gear in the academic and scientific communities. Almost daily, new articles were being written about instances of sexual misconduct and gender discrimination in science, medicine and academics. Organizations rushed to develop conduct policies that far improved upon what they had, some in very proactive ways, others very reactively. As the Task Force tried to collect information about “best practices” for conduct policies, we had a hard time keeping up! Even now, nearly a year later, the amount of information still coming out can be overwhelming.

But we plodded along, learning about what other professional organizations were doing, and borrowing heavily from those we thought got it right. This was not easy – with the diversity of backgrounds and perspectives on the Task Force came diversity about which policies had it right. We spent hours discussing possible additions and deletions to the policy. At one point, we discussed whether to use the word “and” or “or” as a conjunction for over 30 minutes.

By the 2018 Joint Statistical Meetings, we had drafted a revised ASA Activities Conduct Policy and submitted it to the ASA board for initial review. With some back and forth, we finalized a draft revised policy in September and in October made it available for public comment from the ASA community. At the same time, our colleagues at Langer Research Associates emailed the ASA community a link to a questionnaire aimed at understanding the extent of sexual misconduct in the profession. ASA Membership had a month to both comment on the revised conduct policy, and to complete the questionnaire.

With comments in hand, the Task Force sent a final draft of the ASA Activities Conduct Policy to the Board. On November 30, 2018, it was approved and has since been posted on the ASA website . The Task Force is extremely excited to see this concrete product of our efforts completed.

In addition to the Conduct Policy, the Task Force has been working on other recommendations to the Board regarding processes and procedures for complaints of misconduct, mechanisms for adjudicating complaints of misconduct, and recommendations to improve the climate in the field of statistics for all, particularly given the data from the questionnaire. A full report of our activities, including a summary of the data collected from the questionnaire, will be delivered to the ASA membership during the 2019 Joint Statistical Meetings, and we will be available to answer questions and to have open, frank discussions about the activities of our Task Force and their implications during that time.

As we’ve moved ahead in our work, we have come to be a strong team, understanding that the different perspectives we bring are important to ensuring the best product we can. Of course, this realization is nothing new – there is already evidence that having diverse representation leads to more creativity and innovative results (https://imeetcentral.com/the-impact-of-team-diversity-on-your-business; https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/how-diversity-makes-us-smarter/; https://smallbusiness.chron.com/advantages-diverse-workforce-18780.html)… but this was a good reminder that having diverse input can lead to stronger, more innovative results.

Service on the Task Force has taken an incredible amount of time. We have had calls twice a month for the last year, and between the calls there has been work to ensure that the Task Force is moving forward: policies to review, questionnaires to revise and review, meeting minutes to summarize, reports to write, and more. When I travel to conferences and to visit other departments, conversation often turns to the work of the Task Force, and even with my friends outside of the statistical community, there is much discussion of this work.

My Doctoral advisor always said that being a collaborative statistician allowed him to work in many methodological areas… I have always felt the same way about my statistical career.

From Loop et al (2017), Circ Cardiovasc Qual Outcomes

So far, I have done work on methods for clinical trials, spatial analyses, measurement error, and with my current students, I continue to expand my methodological reach based on the questions arising from my collaborations. However, I never thought that my career would take me in this direction – that I would become an expert in the issues surrounding sexual misconduct.

That said I have been honored to be able to lead this incredibly smart group of people in our work. I’ve learned a ton in this process, both through the research we’ve done, and from the insightful input and experiences of my colleagues. I’ve gained perspective into thoughts, actions, and perceptions – both my own and those of others – that were not always apparent to me before. These discussions have made me examine my own practices, attitudes and beliefs, and think more carefully about what I say and do. I realize now that while I may not perceive myself to be in a position of power, as a Department chair, others view me that way, and it is essential that I am constantly aware of the implications of that.

And while I’m so happy to be at a stage in my career where I can help make the climate better for those around me, particularly the junior folks coming up now, I am also looking forward to getting back to my “real” work. To being asked about my research again, and to having more time to think about science again. And this is really what is at the crux of the issues with sexual misconduct and gender discrimination not only in science, but beyond. The heavy lifting, the bulk of the work to improve the climate, falls on those who are the target of the bad behavior. Who takes the lead in helping to improve the climate for women? Typically women. Who actively works to improve conditions for people of color? Typically people of color. Who leads the charge to create equitable environments for sexual and gender minorities? You guessed it,… And while we are making strides to have a more inclusive community, it isn’t enough. We need everyone, regardless of gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation to join the fight and help create fair and equitable communities. It is only when we are working together that we can truly make change happen.

From xkcd.com

As the work of the Task Force begins to wind down, I think about the all that we have learned from each other, and how like the members of the “Breakfast Club,” we have
begun to see each of us in the others (although maybe, as statisticians, we were all part of the nerd clique in high school). I think about how much of myself I see in each of the Task Force members… in the immortal words of John Hughes: “…each one of us is a brain and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.” And now, cue the music…

The Art of Mentoring

This past academic year, I played a key role in implementing a new mentoring program in my School. I had begun the process of developing a new mentoring program for my Department, and when my Dean learned what I was doing, she asked that I work with our Associate Dean for Academic and Faculty Affairs to broaden my efforts to the School. I am excited and proud to be bringing a formal mentoring program to my School. But  developing mentoring programs is difficult because each of us is different. We all have different strengths and weaknesses, and we all have different needs. What works for me may not work for someone else (and likely won’t). In fact, even the reception of the faculty across the school was widely varied. Some faculty wanted our program to be even more intense, with more rigid guidelines, while others were skeptical about even being involved in the program at all (this perspective from both junior faculty and senior faculty). So not an easy task.

Mentoring is an important part of the fabric of academics, and much attention has been paid to the process. Academic publications are filled with articles that describe new mentoring programs, new approaches to mentoring, what makes mentoring effective; while a quick google search shows countless mentoring resources for developing, maintaining and sustaining mentoring relationships. Measuring the success of mentoring programs is difficult, as metrics to describe academic success (e.g. grant dollars, publications, citations, teaching evaluations) cannot be attributed to a single factor. Complicating things further, mentoring programs, if they exist, take a variety of formats across institutions.  And often the same mentoring program has varying levels of success because of varying commitments by different mentor/mentee pairs.

Not all mentoring relationships are created equally. Some are very formal, while others are rather informal. Some are intentional, while others are accidental. Some folks receive mentoring from those “above” them (think Full Professor mentoring an Assistant Professor), while others receive mentoring from their peers, or from those more junior than they are. There is no single approach to mentoring, and most people have some combination of mentors. In fact, often, you may have a mentor that you don’t even realize is mentoring you! Conversely, you may view someone as a mentor who may not view themselves that way.

When I think back on my own mentoring experiences, I start with my relationship with my Doctoral advisor, who was probably also my first real academic mentor. He mentored me not only in statistical methods research, but also in how to effectively collaborate with clinicians, grant writing, directing clinical trials coordinating centers – I learned an enormous number of academic skills from him! He also took the time to know me as a person, encouraged me to pursue my hobbies outside of school, and supported me when my husband and I decided that Graduate School was the right time to start our family. I learned a lot from him, and not just about how to mentor a doctoral student to successfully defend their dissertation, but also about the human side of mentoring. My Doctoral advisor didn’t exactly have a reputation for being warm and fuzzy, but that’s okay – his gruffness didn’t keep him from showing genuine concern for my success (and for the success of his other students). For me, this was extremely important; however, others may not care so much about the non-academic side of mentoring.

As I was finishing my PhD, I interviewed at several academic institutions. I’ve written about the job search before, there are a lot of opportunities during interviews to meet with a lot of different people. I always tell my mentees not to burn any bridges when they interview, as the folks you meet now will pop up in a variety of ways during your career. In fact, some of the folks I met during my interviews have turned into trusted mentors for me (two are now fellow Chairs, who I can rely on for good advice whenever I ask). I’ll come back to this.

At my first academic institution, there was no formal mentoring program. In fact, those in leadership were somewhat skeptical of formal mentoring, and I was left to my own devices to figure out how to obtain the mentoring I needed. Because of my personality, this was not an issue for me – I was able to seek out mentoring from those who I thought could answer my questions. However, this is not true for all junior faculty, and it is presumptuous to assume that everyone will be successful if left to their own devices. During this time, I was lucky to have some colleagues who were just a few years ahead of me, and who could advise me and help point me down the right path. I had one mentor with whom I had substantial overlap in my research, and he really became my de facto mentor, absent a formal mentoring program. It helped that he understood my goals and my personality, but I was extremely lucky that I was successful despite (or maybe in spite of?) the lack of formal mentoring, and that I had colleagues who were truly concerned with my success. In reality, there was no academic incentive for them to mentor me, nor did they get any “credit” for my success.

Post-tenure, my mentoring needs changed, and I struggled to find mentors. I sought out and found mentoring where I could. People helped me who I’m sure did not consider themselves my mentor. I settled for insightful conversations with a colleague while sharing a cab to the airport, or walking between meetings at a conference. I set up calls with colleagues who I thought might have had similar paths, and from whom I could benefit from their experiences. The attitude of the leaders in my institution (particularly after I was promoted to full professor) was that I was now the mentor, and so why did I need mentoring? I would argue that everyone needs mentorship at every phase of their career, and that mentoring needs change as your roles change, but my argument was met with opposition. It’s hard for me to understand the lack of support for mentoring – seeking out a mentor isn’t a sign of weakness or inability, but rather a recognition that we all need help being successful. We all need folks to help us figure out how to complement our weaknesses, and who can help us emphasize our strengths. I was fortunate that my paths had crossed with people across the country who were happy to give me advice here or there. And while I never had a formal mentor, I again had a lot of resources that I could cobble together to make sure my needs were met.

It was at that stage that I also found the most amazing peer mentoring group. I was invited to be on a School-wide committee charged with evaluating the direction of the school, and my hope was that the free lunch that it provided monthly would at least make the time worth it. However, I was pleasantly surprised to get to know two colleagues of mine from other Departments in my school, who were also miserably enduring this committee (for what it’s worth, the lunches weren’t even that good). Both were at about the same stage as I, and both were struggling with figuring out next steps, like me. We started meeting monthly for breakfast, finding new places to eat around town, and helping each other see the opportunities and HUMOR in our jobs and in our lives. We laughed so much during those breakfasts, even when we shouldn’t have been laughing, and I believe that without these two colleagues, two friends, I wouldn’t have made it to where I am today. Incidentally, each of us went on to become a Department Chair, and I have no doubt that at some point in the future I’ll see these two again – at Dean’s meetings.

As I started to look at Chair positions, and eventually negotiate the terms of my Chairpersonship, I once again cobbled together my resources to help guide me through the process. I was lucky that I had peers who had recently become chairs and others who had been long-serving chairs that I could rely on to help me navigate the process and negotiate my offer. One of these colleagues was someone I had originally met when I was interviewing right after graduate school. I am eternally grateful that so many people have been so generous sharing their time with me.

And that hasn’t ended now that I’m a Department Chair. A colleague of mine, who was once a Chair and is now a Dean (trained as a statistician) recently asked me about my career goals. She mentioned that she has had the opportunity to help mentor others who are considering applying to Dean positions, and that she’d be happy to mentor me similarly. I emailed her and told her that I’d like to take her up on her offer, and she replied asking me to provide her with a statement of my career goals, as well as my CV. While I am struggling to articulate my career goals (I really love my current job, and am not sure that I’m ready to think about what’s next), I am excited to have the opportunity to have a new mentor, and also to start to explore what future possibilities might be available to me.

My own experiences with mentoring have instilled in me a very strong mentoring philosophy. First of all, I’m a firm believer that mentoring is absolutely essential for all faculty at all stages of our careers. While our needs from a mentor may change as we progress through our careers, fundamentally, none of us is ever beyond the need for a mentor. We may call these folks different things at different times: maybe advisor, or confidante, or colleague, but often their roles are the same.

Also, I rarely pass up the opportunity to serve as a mentor when asked. I’ve been extremely successful mentoring doctoral students and post-docs – I was honored to receive an award for my outstanding mentoring. Beyond that, I’ve worked with several junior faculty as part of their mentoring committees for successful K01 award submissions (and some unsuccessful ones). But what I enjoy most is mentoring those who are trying to find the right path for them:  students who think that an academic career may not be for them, but who might be convinced otherwise; mid-career faculty who are struggling with finding the right next steps to promotion; full professors who are contemplating the leap to Department Chair, or are looking for other opportunities in research and collaboration. It is my honor and pleasure to listen to them, and to talk with them, in addition to it being my responsibility. I suspect that not all of these folks see me as a mentor per se, and that’s okay – if I can help, I don’t care what we call it.

And as much as I love mentoring, and while I feel responsible for success for all faculty in my Department, I also know that I am not necessarily the best person to mentor everyone. So part of what I negotiated when I started as Chair includes money earmarked for mentoring resources for the faculty in my Department. This money is not restricted to junior faculty, but is available for all faculty should the need arise. Every year when I meet with faculty to discuss their progress, I again offer to help them find mentors (both internal and external), and to provide resources to help foster the mentoring relationship.

I think that there is a perception in academia that as mentors, we are trying to mold the next generation of faculty to be just like us. I’ve never been able to accept that my job as a mentor is to create the next StatGirl (in fact, there can only be one StatGirl!). My job as a mentor is to help my mentee become the best _______ they can be. Fill in the blank. Maybe the best Professor? Maybe the best Department Chair? But just as likely, I’m helping them learn to become the best pharmaceutical statistician they can be. Or the best FDA statistician. My job is to help provide my mentees with the skillset they need to be successful at what they want to do, not what I want them do. And I take this responsibility very seriously – maybe even more so than others because I’ve struggled to find mentors who view the process in this way.

Maybe my mentoring philosophy arises from my strong belief that our goal should be to diversify our field, rather than to continue to perpetuate more of the same. That means mentoring people to do what they enjoy and are good at, and then celebrating their successes. That means creating a culture in which we accept that success is defined in a variety of ways, rather than how it has always been. That means working to ensure that promotion and tenure is not limited only to faculty who do what I did. That means mentoring people to navigate the academic hierarchy successfully, even if their path does not mirror yours. In thinking about this, it seems like a catch-22: if we don’t broaden our definition of success in academics, we’ll never have the motivation to broaden our approach to mentoring. However, if we don’t broaden our approach to mentoring, we will never have the diversity we need to broaden our definitions of success.

As time passes, I hope that we will come to see the need for diverse approaches to mentoring, and that we will work to ensure all faculty receive the mentoring they need. I hope we will come to understand how we all need a team of mentors to support our success, and that we will all learn to make mentoring a priority. If you are mentoring someone, learn what their goals are, and get to know what they need from a mentor. Help them meet their goals, not yours. If you’re looking for a mentor, don’t be afraid to ask! People genuinely want to help others be successful, and if they tell you no, you don’t want them as a mentor anyway. In the meantime, I will keep doing what I can to help others be successful, and feel extremely fortunate that others are willing to continue do the same for me.

Vacation all I ever wanted…

Over spring break, I took a vacation. Not an academic vacation, where I go to a conference and then spend an afternoon wandering around some beautiful city. Not a vacation where I sneak off into the bathroom and check my email. I took a real vacation. One where I was completely disconnected from work, and from the world, really. I’m not very good at not working – I love my job and find it difficult to take a break. I also find that I get anxious about all the work piling up when I’m away and if I can at least check in from time-to-time and clean out emails that I can deal with quickly, I feel a little less anxious.

Anyway, this past March, I took a real vacation. My husband and I took our kids backpacking in the Grand Canyon for 4 days. Four days in a giant hole in the ground, with no Wi-Fi, no LTE, no contact with the outside world, and no showers. Four days with everything we needed on our backs. Four days where our “home” was a 7 foot by 7 foot space (with no privacy). Four days with only each other, Uno, Phase 10, and a Choose Your Own Adventure book to entertain us. Oh, and the great outdoors – it’s pretty entertaining, too.

It was AMAZING. As soon as we stepped off at the top of the trail, I felt my anxiety begin to melt away. The deeper we got into the canyon, the less anxious I felt. By the time we stopped to set up camp for the first night, I don’t even think I could spell “biostatistics.” Work was the farthest thing from my mind. And watching my children approach a 1600 foot climb with gusto, seeing them work hard to make and break camp, watching them sitting by the water playing cards together was a gift I didn’t know I wanted or needed. I am incredibly proud of my children, who hiked nearly 30 miles over 4 days with heavy packs on, with no showers, sleeping on the ground, eating mostly dehydrated foods, with no whining and complaining, and no arguing, and loving the challenge of the trip.

By the end of the four days, I was more relaxed than I’d been in a long time. After our hike, we had a few days to visit with friends and family in Arizona before heading back to reality (and the beginning of our Spring quarter), and I found that I didn’t have any desire to check my email or reengage with my work. I needed that vacation, more than I knew. When I returned, I felt refreshed and rejuvenated, and ready to get back into the swing of things.

Interestingly, almost 20 years ago when my husband and I were graduate students, some of our friends, also students, suggested a group of 6 of us (3 couples) go backpacking the Grand Canyon. None of us had ever really backpacked before, so we approached this as any good scientists would. We did our research. We spent nearly a year planning. We had weekly meetings to share our research and discuss our plans, and drink some beer. What else would you expect from 2 biostatisticians, 2 physicists, a chemist, and a mechanical engineer? It was an amazing time: we all accomplished goals that we didn’t think we could accomplish, and learned a lot about ourselves and each other. We supported each other through challenges, celebrated our successes, and laughed a lot. Looking back, I don’t remember a lot of specifics of the hike, but I do remember the joy we felt when we reached our goal. In retrospect, this was an amazing metaphor for our PhDs… we did our research, we planned, we worked hard, we drank beer. Things didn’t turn out exactly as we’d expected, but we accomplished our goals. And throughout the rest of our graduate programs, we supported each other through the tough times, celebrated together, and laughed a lot. A lot.

But we also faced some who didn’t think that we should be taking a week vacation away from our labs, our work. As graduate students. What message are we sending about academic life if we tell graduate students that they should not take vacations? Graduate school was the most flexible time of life for me (and likely is for many graduate students) – if it is going to go downhill from there, why wouldn’t people opt out of academic careers in favor of jobs that allow them the luxury of vacation, family leave, access to on-site daycare, etc…

Some research has suggested that vacations and leisure time may be beneficial to employees, both from a health perspective and from a productivity perspective. Inc. describes 4 “scientific” reasons why vacations are good (although they do not cite their sources, and most of the research out there is correlative, not causative), including: resultant reductions in stress, improvement in health, improved productivity, and better sleep. Other research suggests that higher marital satisfaction and lower stress is associated with more vacation among rural Wisconsin women. But according to some sources, only 25% of Americans take all of their paid vacation days, and 61% of Americans work while on vacation. What’s wrong with us?

It’s hard to find data specifically about the vacation habits of academics (although it is easy to find out which institutions actually offer paid vacation time). Most people have the misconception that professor→summers off. While some faculty do have a break from teaching in the summer, other academic activities continue. Even faculty who are on 9-month contracts often use the summer months to catch up on research, enhance their course materials, or for administrative activities. But besides anecdotal evidence that professors don’t have their summer off, it’s hard to know whether academics take more or less vacations than other folks, and whether those positive effects translate to this unique population.

Just prior to my vacation, I was at a meeting of the North American Biostatistics Chairs, during which time we talked about why women are getting PhDs in Biostatistics at roughly the same (or higher rates) than men (American Statistical Association data here; AMS data here), but faculty do not reflect this equity at any rank. We discussed what we are currently doing to discourage women from seeking academic careers, and ways we can help change that. One of the things we discussed was modeling better work-life balance “behavior” to our students and junior faculty. The majority of the people in the room have children, at various ages and stages of life. And one of the reasons we love being academics is the great flexibility we have to spend time with our children, to play an active role in their lives. But maybe we don’t talk about this enough with our students? Maybe they don’t understand that the reason I sometimes work at 10:00 at night is because I sometimes leave work at 3:00 so I can be there when my son gets home from school? Modeling good behavior doesn’t mean only going home early to be with my kids, though. Modeling good behavior extends to other ways to balance work and life (like taking vacation). However, it’s not enough for scientific leaders to model good behavior when it comes to work-life integration, it is absolutely our responsibility to do so. As a leader in my field, it is contingent on me to model that work is important, but so is being away from work, and to encourage that among those I lead.

As I write this, I’m preparing for a 2-week summer vacation. I can’t tell you whether I’ll disconnect completely during that time, but it is highly unlikely that I’ll go two weeks without checking in at work. This time, I won’t be forced to disconnect, as I won’t (intentionally) be in a giant hole in the ground. Hopefully, I’ll choose to disconnect – at least for part of the time – not only for my own sake, but also for the sake of those that follow me.