scientist

Don't Become a Scientist!

Jonathan I. Katz

Professor of Physics

Washington University, St. Louis, Mo.

[my last name]@wuphys.wustl.edu


Are you thinking of becoming a scientist? Do you want to uncover the
mysteries of nature, perform experiments or carry out calculations to learn
how the world works? Forget it!

Science is fun and exciting. The thrill of discovery is unique. If you are
smart, ambitious and hard working you should major in science as an
undergraduate. But that is as far as you should take it. After graduation,
you will have to deal with the real world. That means that you should not
even consider going to graduate school in science. Do something else
instead: medical school, law school, computers or engineering, or something
else which appeals to you.

Why am I (a tenured professor of physics) trying to discourage you from
following a career path which was successful for me? Because times have
changed (I received my Ph.D. in 1973, and tenure in 1976). American science
no longer offers a reasonable career path. If you go to graduate school in
science it is in the expectation of spending your working life doing
scientific research, using your ingenuity and curiosity to solve important
and interesting problems. You will almost certainly be disappointed,
probably when it is too late to choose another career.

American universities train roughly twice as many Ph.D.s as there are jobs
for them. When something, or someone, is a glut on the market, the price
drops. In the case of Ph.D. scientists, the reduction in price takes the
form of many years spent in ``holding pattern'' postdoctoral jobs.
Permanent jobs don't pay much less than they used to, but instead of
obtaining a real job two years after the Ph.D. (as was typical 25 years
ago) most young scientists spend five, ten, or more years as postdocs. They
have no prospect of permanent employment and often must obtain a new
postdoctoral position and move every two years. For many more details
consult the Young Scientists' Network or read the account in the May, 2001
issue of the Washington Monthly.

As examples, consider two of the leading candidates for a recent Assistant
Professorship in my department. One was 37, ten years out of graduate
school (he didn't get the job). The leading candidate, whom everyone thinks
is brilliant, was 35, seven years out of graduate school. Only then was he
offered his first permanent job (that's not tenure, just the possibility of
it six years later, and a step off the treadmill of looking for a new job
every two years). The latest example is a 39 year old candidate for another

Assistant Professorship; he has published 35 papers. In contrast, a doctor
typically enters private practice at 29, a lawyer at 25 and makes partner
at 31, and a computer scientist with a Ph.D. has a very good job at 27
(computer science and engineering are the few fields in which industrial
demand makes it sensible to get a Ph.D.). Anyone with the intelligence,
ambition and willingness to work hard to succeed in science can also
succeed in any of these other professions.

Typical postdoctoral salaries begin at $27,000 annually in the biological
sciences and about $35,000 in the physical sciences (graduate student
stipends are less than half these figures). Can you support a family on
that income? It suffices for a young couple in a small apartment, though I
know of one physicist whose wife left him because she was tired of
repeatedly moving with little prospect of settling down. When you are in
your thirties you will need more: a house in a good school district and all
the other necessities of ordinary middle class life. Science is a
profession, not a religious vocation, and does not justify an oath of
poverty or celibacy.

Of course, you don't go into science to get rich. So you choose not to go
to medical or law school, even though a doctor or lawyer typically earns
two to three times as much as a scientist (one lucky enough to have a good
senior-level job). I made that choice too. I became a scientist in order to
have the freedom to work on problems which interest me. But you probably
won't get that freedom. As a postdoc you will work on someone else's ideas,
and may be treated as a technician rather than as an independent
collaborator. Eventually, you will probably be squeezed out of science
entirely. You can get a fine job as a computer programmer, but why not do
this at 22, rather than putting up with a decade of misery in the
scientific job market first? The longer you spend in science the harder you
will find it to leave, and the less attractive you will be to prospective
employers in other fields.

Perhaps you are so talented that you can beat the postdoc trap; some
university (there are hardly any industrial job in the physical sciences)
will be so impressed with you that you will be hired into a tenure track
position two years out of graduate school. Maybe. But the general
cheapening of scientific labor means that even the most talented stay on
the postdoctoral treadmill for a very long time; consider the job
candidates described above. And many who appear to be very talented, with
grades and recommendations to match, later find that the competition of
research is more difficult, or at least different, and that they must
struggle with the rest.

Suppose you do eventually obtain a permanent job, perhaps a tenured
professorship. The struggle for a job is now replaced by a struggle for
grant support, and again there is a glut of scientists. Now you spend your
time writing proposals rather than doing research. Worse, because your
proposals are judged by your competitors you cannot follow your curiosity,
but must spend your effort and talents on anticipating and deflecting
criticism rather than on solving the important scientific problems. They're
not the same thing: you cannot put your past successes in a proposal,
because they are finished work, and your new ideas, however original and
clever, are still unproven. It is proverbial that original ideas are the
kiss of death for a proposal; because they have not yet been proved to work
(after all, that is what you are proposing to do) they can be, and will be,
rated poorly. Having achieved the promised land, you find that it is not
what you wanted after all.

What can be done? The first thing for any young person (which means anyone
who does not have a permanent job in science) to do is to pursue another
career. This will spare you the misery of disappointed expectations. Young
Americans have generally woken up to the bad prospects and absence of a
reasonable middle class career path in science and are deserting it. If you
haven't yet, then join them. Leave graduate school to people from India and
China, for whom the prospects at home are even worse. I have known more
people whose lives have been ruined by getting a Ph.D. in physics than by
drugs.

If you are in a position of leadership in science then you should try to
persuade the funding agencies to train fewer Ph.D.s. The glut of scientists
is entirely the consequence of funding policies (almost all graduate
education is paid for by federal grants). The funding agencies are
bemoaning the scarcity of young people interested in science when they
themselves caused this scarcity by destroying science as a career. They
could reverse this situation by matching the number trained to the demand,
but they refuse to do so, or even to discuss the problem seriously (for
many years the NSF propagated a dishonest prediction of a coming shortage
of scientists, and most funding agencies still act as if this were true).
The result is that the best young people, who should go into science,
sensibly refuse to do so, and the graduate schools are filled with weak
American students and with foreigners lured by the American student visa.


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   转载自 Chemistry 讨论区

 
  
  


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What I want to say :

1,  This guy hates Asian grad students.

2, He despises young students majoring science nowadays.

3, and you have to admit that he was telling the truth.

EXCERPTIONS:

     p4
　　In idle moments,when they were no presshing matters to be dealt with,and when everybody seemed to be sleepy from the heat,she would sit under her acacia tree.It was a dusty place to sit,and the ckickens would occasionally come and peck about her feet,but it was here that Mma Romotswe weould contemplate some of the issues which,in everyday life,may so easily be pushed to one side.
　　Everything,thought Mma Ramotswe,has been something before.Here I am,the only private detective in the whole Botswana,sitting in front of my detective agency.But only a few years ago there was no detective agency,and before that,before there were even any buildings here,there were just the acacia trees,and the riverbed in the distance,and the Kalahari over there,so close.
　　In those days there was no Botswana even,just the Bechuanaland Protectorate,and before that again there was Khama's Country,and lions with the dry wind in their manes.But look ar in now: a detective agency,right here in Gaborone,with me,the fat lady detective,sitting outside and thinking these thoughts about how what is one thing today becomes quite another thing tomorrow.
　　
　　p61
　　The lawyer winced as she spoke."It's easy to lose money in business,"he said."Especially when you don't know anything about what you're doing."He stared at her hard."Especially then,And anyway,can women be detectives?Do you think they can?"
　　"Why not?"said Mma Ramotswe.She had heard that people did not like lawyers,and now she thought she could see why.This man was so certain of himself,so utterly convinced.What had it to do with him what she did?It was her money,her future.And how dare he say that about women,when he didn't even know that his zip was half undone!Should she ell him?
　　"Women are the ones who know what's going on,"she said quietly."They are the ones with eyes.Have you not heard of Agatha Christie?"
　　The lawyer looked taken back."Agatha Christie?Of course I know her.Yes,that is true.A woman sees more than a man sees.That is well-known."
　　"So,"said Mma Ramotswe,"when people see a sign saying NO.1 Ladies' Detective Agency,what will them think?They'll think those ladies will know what's going on.They're the ones."
　　The lawyer stroked his chin."Maybe."
　　"Yes,"said Mma Ramotswe."Maybe."Adding,"Your zip,Rra.I think you may not have noticed..."
　　
　　p63
　　In her heart of hearts,she knew there would be no clients.The whole idea was a ghastly mistake.Nobody wanted a private detective,and certainly nobody would want her.Who was she,after all? Shw was just Precious Ramotswe from Mochudi.She had never been to London or wherever detectives went to find out how to be private detectives.She had never ever been to Johannesburg,What if somebody came in and said "You know Johananesburg of course,"she would have to lie,or just say nothing.
　　Mna Makutsi looked at her,and then looked down at the typewriter keyboard.She opened a drawer,peered inside,and then closed it.At that moment a hen came into the room from the yard outside and pecked at something at the floor.
　　"Get out."Shouted Mma Makutsi,"No chickens in here!"
　　
　　p132
　　The house had been built in 1968,when the town inched out from the shops and the Govenment Buildings,It was on a corner site,which was not always a good thing,as people would sometimes stand on that corner,under the thorn trees that grew there, and spit into her garden,or throw their rubbish over her fence.At first,when she saw them doing that,she would shout from the window,or bang a dustbin lid at them.but they seemed to have no shame,these people,and they just laughed.So she gave up,and the young man who did her garden for her every third day would just pick up the rubbish and put it away.That was the only problem with that house,For the rest,Mma Ramotswe was fiercely proud of it,and daily reflected on her good fortune in being able to buy it when she did,just before house prices went so high that honest people could no longer pay them.
　　
　　p182
　　Mr J.L.B Matekoni nodded.It had been easy to break the windscreen and scatter the fragments of glass about the car.It had been easy to telephone Mr Gotso's house and report that the car had been broken into;but this part was more difficult--this was lying to somebody's face.It's Mma Ramotswe's fault,he thought.I am a simple mechanic.I didn't ask to get involved in these rediculous detective games,I am just too weak.
　　And he was --when it came to Mma Ramotswe.She could ask anything of him,and he would comply.Mr J.LB Matekoni even had a fantasy,unconfessed,guiltily enjoyed in which he helped Mma Ramotswe.They were in the Kalahari together and Mma Ramotswe was threatened by a lion.He called out,drawing the lion's atterntion to him,and the animal turned and snarled.This gave her the chance to escape,while he dispatched the lion with a hunting knife;an innocent enough fantasy,one might have thought,except for one thing:Mma Ramostwe was wearing no clothes.
　　He would have loved to save her,naked or otherwise,from a lion,but this was different.He had even had to make a false report to the police,which had really frightened him,even if they had not even bothered to come round to investigate,He was a criminal now,he supposed,and it was all becouse he was weak.He should have said no.He should have told Mma Romatswe that it was not her job to be a crusader.
　　
　　p212
　　Mma Ramotswe moved forward gingerly,placing each foot carefully and expecting at any moment to hear a hiss from a protesting snake,But nothing moved,and she was soon crouching under a mulberry tree as close as she dared to get to the house,From the shade of the tree she had a good view of the back door and the open kitchen window,yet she could not see into the house itself,as it was of the old colonial style,with wide eaves,which made the interior cool and dark.It was far easier to spy on people who live in modern houses,becouse architects today had forgetten about the sun and put people in goldfish bowls where the whole world could peer in through large unprotected windows,should they so desire.
　　Now what should she do?She could stay where she was in the hope that somebody came out of the back door,but why should they bother to do that?And if they did,then what would she do?
　　Suddenly a window at te back of the house opened and a man leaned out,It was Dr Komoti.
　　"You!You over there!Yes,you,fat lady!What are you doing sitting under out mulberry tree?"
　　Mma Ramotswe experienced a sudden,absurd urge to look over her shoulder ,as if to imply that there was somebody else under the tree.She felt like a schoolgirl caught stealing fruit,or doing some other forbidden act.There was nothing one could say;one just had to own up.
　　
　　p215
　　She knew the railway station slightly.It was a place that she enjoyed visiting,as it reminded her of the old Africa,the days of uncomfortable companionship on crowded trains,of slow journeys across great plains, of the sugarcane you used to eat to while away the time,and of the pitch of the cane you used to spit out of the wide windows.Here you could still see it--or a part of it--here,where the trains that came from the Cape pulled slowly past the platform on their journey up through Botswana to Bulawayo;here,where the Indian stores beside the railway buildings still sold cheap blankets and men't hats with a garish feather tucked into the band.
　　Mma Ramotswe did not want Afica to change.She did not want her people to become like everybody else,soulless,selfish,forgetful of what it means to be an Afircan,or worse still.ashamed fo Afica.She would not be anything but Afican,never,even if somebody came up to her and said"Here is a pill,the very latest thing.Take it and it will make you into an Amecian."She would say no.Never.No thank you.
　　
　　p234
　　The sun went,and it was dark.He sat beside her in the comfortable darkness and they listened,contentedly,to the sounds of Afica settling down for the night.A dog barked somewhere;a car engine raced and then died away;there was a touch of wind,warm dusty wind,redolent of thorn trees.
　　He looked at her in the darkness,at this woman who was everything to him--mother,Africa,wisdom,understanding,good things to eat,pumpkins,chickens,the smell of sweet cattle breath,the white sky across the endless,endless bush,and the giraffe that cried,giving its tears for women to daub on their baskets;O Botswana,my country,my place.
　　Those were his thoughts.But how could he say any of that to her?Any time he tried to tell her what was in his heart,the words which came to him seemed so inadequate.A mechanic cannot be a poet,he thought,that is not how things are.So he simply said:
　　"I am very happy that I fixed your van for you.I would have been sorry if somebody esle had lied to you and said it was not worth fixing.There are people like that in the motor trade."
　　"I know,"said Mma Romatswe."But you are not like that."
　　He said nothing,There were times when you simply had to speak,or you would have your lifetime ahead to regret not speaking.ut every time he had tried to speak to her of what was in his heart,he had failed.He had already asked her to marry him and that had not been a great success.He did not have a great deal of confidence,at least with people;cars were different,of course.
　　"I am very happy sitting here with you..."
　　She turned to him."What did you say?"
　　"I said,please marry me,Mma Ramotswe.I am ust Mr J.L.B.Matekoni,that's all,but please marry me and make me happy."
　　"Of course I will,"said Mma Ramotswe.

感谢燕子把这本书从美国带回来。

      Ramotswe女士在博茨瓦纳开了第一家侦探事务所，同时也是第一家女士的侦探事务所。但这本书并不是一本侦探小说，你要知道，简单的叙述，一个fat lady在她的tiny white van里走过博茨瓦纳的每个角落，和邻近的地方帮博茨瓦纳善良淳朴的人们解决生活中的疑团——这是她，她的朋友和她的同胞们对博茨瓦纳的热爱。
　　
　　你读这本轻盈的书，感觉到的是非洲干燥的空气，密密匆匆的灌木，小房子，马克杯里面的茶，南瓜，牛群，清清淡淡的颜色，就像童话一样。是的，这简直就是童话。你不能用“现实”这个词来批评它，它不现实吗？Ramotswe的老爸爸年轻时做矿工的凶险经历，贫困，毒品，谋杀，巫术，以及吐着信子的眼镜蛇，都若有若无地藏在在这本可爱的书的每个角落中。世界的美丽只存在于视之美丽的人的眼中。
　　
　　正是因为这本小说没有花里胡哨的情节，安安静静的，所以闻起来没有商业的味道。

     我最喜欢的电影是<Out Of Africa>，道理就和无数男生最钟爱教父一样。<走出非洲>和这本小说相似的地方就是，若有若无的狮子，非洲美丽到要心脏停止的大草原，回想电影里小滑翔机上两人低头凝视的非洲，电影中的那段音乐就会在耳朵里响起。其次是非洲那些纯朴黝黑的人们，在殖民岁月中不得不改变自己的生活方式，同时捍卫自己的文化。 就如同Mma Ramotswe想的：She would not be anything but Afican,never,even if somebody came up to her and said"Here is a pill,the very latest thing.Take it and it will make you into an Amecian."She would say no.Never.No thank you.

　　

昨天大学同学聚会，除了一个行踪不定且不甚熟悉的女生没来，整个留在武汉的孩子们都来了，还是在学校门口的店子，下午唱歌完，穿过学校，过马路，真的像去毕业聚会那会儿，炙热的太阳，无穷无尽的冰啤酒。我真的希望，可以一个晚上，没有人提出说明天还要做实验这样的话，可以无休无止地喝啤酒，聊天下去。

结果我和一个女生在外面晃了很久，被我妈的电话骂回去，回家后洗澡，吃几片维B，倒头便睡。

迷蒙之间，我和朋友A在等401，连续两辆过去，车里的人都满到要爆，终于来了一辆空车，我们俩雀跃，上车以后，司机很友善地对我们笑笑，我们投币以后，转身发现，车里居然都是人，当时我汗毛都竖了起来，他们也都朝我们笑。正好有两个前门旁边的座位空着。我头皮发麻地看着这两个位子，刚准备坐上去，和A拉住我，提醒我那个“这个座位是专门留给你的”鬼故事，我转过脸朝她笑笑，忽然看见，迎着我们的车，一辆汽车闪着前灯以极快的速度冲过来，我大叫一声伸手去拉背对迎风玻璃的A，刚刚伸手，两车撞在一起，司机撞在挡风玻璃上，车厢几乎折了，A被玻璃插中背部摔到我的身上，我向后一倒重重地磕在一个阶梯上，然后一片混乱，我们两个都死了。

梦完我死了以后，我才醒，刚好早上8点整。

也许你会问，你怎么知道自己在梦中死了？我要告诉你的是，这个感觉很奇妙，而且我还有好几次经验。第一次是去年夏天，我梦到自己被一个类似鬼的女人（其实她是我小姑）用眼睛送到半空中，然后狠狠地摔下来，我趴在地上，眼睛只能看见地面及地面上30厘米的距离，接着眼睛就有些模糊，意识模糊，再最后就是在梦中的大脑向你宣告：你已经死了。第二次是今年过年，我被歹徒逼到阳台后，无路可逃，我就一了百了从阳台上跳下去，虽然事实上我家住2楼，但在梦里是5楼（看我考虑的多周到，深怕我跳楼不死），就这么跳下去，坠落坠落，然后重重摔在地上，我看见从我的头上，鼻子里流出的汩汩鲜血，然后看见我妈蹲下来生气且鄙视我的眼神，我想张口说什么，就死了。

有谁变态到会梦到自己死了？而且还死了3次！自我分析的结果是，第一次死是焦虑考试，第二次死是焦虑爸爸的手术，那第三次呢？实在没有一个戕害自己的借口，只能总结，上个月看的豪斯第四季最后一集还在某些神经元中放电。可怜的老傻榔私通向全世界人，尤其是华语地区深刻的普及了KARMA这个词，还是早死早超生，梦自己死了，梦着梦着也就觉得没什么了，也不会为之郁郁寡欢了。

我应该有3个月没有去爷爷那边了，本来说4月31忌日去那个老房子看看，给爷爷烧柱香，但从墓园回家的路上被小姑弄得心烦意乱，也就没有去。然后听说，那排老房子要拆了，盖高层，于姑姑们都跳出来争房子，腻味到我巴不得新盖的都塌掉，再后来又说房子不盖了，因为那些仍然住在那一片的老干部们不大同意，老人们都喜欢现在的生活，哪怕房子糟糕了点儿，但至少几十年生活在其中，已经冬暖夏凉而且还能守着房子前面的一小片地。我懒得猜那些姑姑们怎么想，反正听说爷爷老房子里面的柜子和电器都被拖到我表哥的宿舍了。

晚上很心烦意乱，出门站在楼底下却哪里都不想去，忽然想到了爷爷家，就走过去看看。路口的两家人居然都搬走了，黑洞洞的窗户，包括我原来看书，总在我窗台底下大声讲话的老太婆也搬走了。走到门口竟发现我们的石榴树倒了。这正是石榴花开的好时候，点点红色的花挂在树上，而树低低地压在小灌木上。门上落满了灰，小姑还口口声声说她经常回来看看，除了我在的时候她匆匆忙忙往家搬爷爷家的东西她什么时候回来过？！

开门进去，床上堆着满满的从拿走的柜子倒腾出来的东西，自行车停在香炉前面，香炉落满灰，唯一没有变的是爷爷还在对着我笑。我的书桌上堆着我不要的资料，就连我放在地上的垃圾盒，她们都嫌碍事，给塞进我的柜子，还有空调，空调也拿走了（那是当然的！），剩下的窗上的空隙用面板拦着。电视没了，去年小姑放在茶几上的一整块橘子皮已经干成木片了，却还在那里！

我想大声哭，这个伴随着我艰难的半年时间的房间，成了这个样子，已经被凌辱到没有尊严可言的地步，而这里，无论如何也曾经是她们父亲生活的地方啊！难道这就是“最后”？

我恨这个时节的潮湿沉闷，空气浓稠到要把人窒息。我恨这样的日子，逃也不能逃，留下却肩不起任何的责任。我恨这样的我。