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Forever a scientist: How I found my career niche

CSM Lab

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– Julia Bates – 

“No Julia, you are still a scientist. You will always be a scientist”.

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hose were the words spoken by my mentor Professor Jenny Martin, as we sat drinking coffee in a sunny café in my hometown of Brisbane, Australia. I was trying to explain to her my thoughts and feelings on leaving the bench to pursue a career in science writing.

But if I’m not scientist, who am I? I still pondered.

But let’s go back to where my science career all began—high school.

Forever the science student

Ah, welcome to high school and the immense pressure of deciding what you want to be when you “grow up”. Seriously, who can know at such a young age? I sure didn’t.

However, in my final couple of years, I had worked out which subjects I liked best—I chose three science subjects (physics, chemistry, and biology) and two maths subjects. My friends thought I was crazy (and a bit boring), but I loved that there was always the “right answer” in science. It’s funny how I thought that then, having learnt we are constantly finding new “right answers” in science.

Because I loved biology and chemistry, and was doing quite well academically, I was advised that being a medical doctor might be a good fit for me. The only problem—I easily fainted even at the thought of blood. My 5-day work experience stint at the local hospital confirmed my suspicions when—to my complete embarrassment—I passed out in the pathology lab. And don’t even get me started on the operating theatre! 

Julia Bates

So, where did that leave me? Still loving everything to do with science, I enrolled in an undergraduate science degree. In my third year, I sat down to a lecture given by Professor Jenny Martin on Protein Crystallography and Drug Design. She was confident, humorous, intelligent, and her research sounded like a cool mix of computational work and working at the lab bench. It was then I had my “aha” moment. A research career! I could combine my desire to “help people” medically with my love of learning (and avoid the blood).

My science segue

About ten years later, and now living in New Zealand, things started to shift. I felt unsettled. My research career was going pretty well if you looked at it on paper. I had the following:

  • An undergraduate degree in biomedical science
  • 3-years experience at a pharmaceutical company
  • A PhD in structural immunology
  • More than 10 articles published in scientific journals
  • Received the Victorian Premier’s Award for Medical Research
  • Obtained a postdoctoral fellowship to fund my salary for the next four years.

But I wasn’t happy. I didn’t have the passion and drive for lab work that my colleagues seemed to have. I was in my 30s, single, and constantly questioning myself.

Was I really smart enough? Was this really what I wanted to keep doing for the rest of my life? How could I keep moving from country to country on short-term contracts, AND settle down to have a family? Was I better suited to another career?

I enjoyed reading and writing about science, but failed experiment after failed experiment was getting me down. I was taking it too personally. I had forgotten the very definition of the word “re-search”—to search again, and again (and again).

In the words of Roxette, “listen to your heart”

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So my heart was saying I needed to change. But to what? Like most things, I decided to tackle the question pragmatically. First, an online career quiz, followed by an appointment with the career counsellor at the university. The answer? “Accountant”… or a close second: “scientist”. I laughed. Neither of these options excited me.

Back to the drawing board.

“What about patent law?” my sister (a lawyer) suggested. “You can still read about all the cool science discoveries?”

She gave me one of her textbooks—but after many failed attempts at reading about intellectual property (and getting distracted by Facebook instead), I realized my heart wasn’t in it.

Upon voicing my frustrations to a colleague in New Zealand, she suggested medical writing. She knew someone who had felt the same way as me, and who now works from home as a medical writer.

What is this medical writing, I thought to myself and started googling. It sounded perfect: I would be able to use my science background, but step out of the lab and have some control.

I now had a direction, and excitedly started applying for jobs. My heart was screaming yes!

All you need is a little bit of luck

I had decided upon my career aspiration, but unfortunately getting there wasn’t that straightforward. I applied for numerous science and medical writing positions, without success.

“You have no experience,” they said.

Feeling dejected, I moved back to Australia to another job in a lab. I completed a Graduate Certificate in Editing and Publishing at nights and on the weekends, with the hope a qualification would give me an edge. But still, no luck.

Through a chance meeting with the communications manager, a stint volunteering, being persistent (probably to the point of being a bit of a nuisance), and then some good fortune, I finally got a job in my university’s communications department. Here, with support and training from my new boss, I tried my hand at all types of writing: from media releases to annual reports. I was still engaged with science, but finally felt I was doing something I was good at.

Almost a year later, with my partner travelling overseas all the time for work, I decided to make the leap into the freelance world (although, my supportive hubby was providing me with a sturdy safety net).

My fancy-free freelance life

I now happily work as a freelance science and medical writer. I get to read about so many different areas of science and medicine. I get to travel with my hubby, working from the hotel bedroom when we are away. I am my own boss and I am never bored. Each day, I am working on something different (you can read more about a day in my life here).

As my hubby says, “so basically, you do assignments everyday?”

Yes, yes I do, and I love it. I will forever be a student who loves learning about the world around me. And Jenny is right; I will forever be a scientist—just one who has found a slightly different niche.

About the author: Julia Bates, PhD, has over 15 years experience in the research sector. Although she originally trained as a structural biologist, she now runs her own science writing and editing business, Science Write (www.sciencewrite.com.au).

Cover image is by Arek Socha from Pixabay CC0 Creative Commons

CivicSciTimes - Stories in Science

Unexpected Stories and Spindle Mistakes: Discovering that Wild-type Cells are Full of Surprises

CSM Lab

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Natalie Nannas

Natalie Nannas is an Associate Professor of Biology at Hamilton College in Clinton, NY. She teaches courses in genetics, molecular biology, and bioethics. Dr. Nannas graduated from Grinnell College with bachelor’s degrees in biological chemistry and French. She received her Master’s and PhD from Harvard University in molecular biology and genetics. Dr. Nannas conducted her postdoctoral research at the University of Georgia where she won a National Science Foundation Plant Genome Postdoctoral Fellowship. At Hamilton College, Dr. Nannas enjoys teaching and sharing her passion for microscopy with her undergraduate research students. When not glued to a microscope, she loves spending time with her husband and two daughters. The narrative below by Natalie Nannas captures the human stories behind the science from a 2022 paper titled “Frequent spindle errors require structural rearrangement to complete meiosis in Zea mays” which was published by her group in 2022 in the International Journal of Molecular Sciences.

Science never works out the way we plan. As scientists, we ask questions, hypothesize and outline our goals … then reality of science occurs. The reality of science is often full of failed controls, endless troubleshooting, and sometimes strange findings that lead us in new and unpredictable directions. Our publications give the impression that we planned these scientific journeys from the beginning and do not tell the human side of the process with all of its twists and turns, dead-ends and U-turns. I want to tell you the real story behind my first publication as a faculty member with my own lab. It did not go as planned due to the COVID-19 pandemic. My lab was shut down in the middle of our investigation, and my students and I were unable to generate new data. In the beginning, it seemed like we were stranded with only control data and no story to tell, but the time away from the lab allowed us to spend more time looking carefully at wild-type cells. What seemed like a dead-end suddenly became its own story when we found something unexpected hiding within microscopy movies. Our wild-type cells were making mistakes, attempting fixes and changing directions, just like we do as scientists.

My scientific journey began with flickering green lights and a microscope (you can read more about it here). As an undergraduate, I was mesmerized by the beauty of watching living cells shuffle fluorescently labeled proteins throughout their cytoplasm. I followed this passion for microscopy into my doctoral dissertation research at Harvard University where I investigated how yeast cells build the machinery needed to pull their chromosomes apart. This machinery is a dynamic collection of long protein tubes called microtubules and other organizing proteins that help move and shuffle microtubules. I loved watching the delicate dance of chromosomes interacting with microtubules of the spindle, and I wanted to continue studying this process in my postdoctoral studies.

During postdoctoral studies at the University of Georgia, I won a fellowship from the National Science Foundation to develop a new technique in microscopy. No one had ever watched plants building their spindles in meiosis, the specialized cell division that produces egg and sperm. Other scientists had performed beautiful microscopy studies observing how mitotic spindles function inside of plant cells, but due to the technical challenges, no one had ever observed live plant cells building spindles in meiosis. I was thrilled to take on this challenge by using version of maize that had fluorescently labeled tubulin, the protein that makes up microtubules of the spindle. With this line of maize, spindles would glow fluorescent green, allowing me to image if only I could extract the meiotic cells.

Dr. Natalie Nannas

We were so busy collecting data and prepping for our mutant studies that we never really took time to analyze the wild-type cells.

After almost a year spent dissecting maize plants, I finally managed to develop a method to isolate these tiny cells and keep them alive in a growth media long enough to image them. This new method of live imaging was going to serve as the foundation of my new lab at Hamilton College, a primarily undergraduate institution. With my students, I planned to investigate the pathways governed spindle assembly. Most animal mitotic cells have a structure called a centrosome that dictates how spindles are formed; however, female animal meiotic cells lack these structures and must use other pathways to direct spindle assembly. Plants also lack centrosomes, and I wanted to inhibit these known animal pathways in our plant live imaging system.

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As I set up my lab, my students and I collected live movies of wild-type maize cells building their spindles. I told my students and myself that these movies were not the main event, they were just the control cells so we would have a baseline comparison for our experimental conditions. We were so busy collecting data and prepping for our mutant studies that we never really took the time to analyze the wild-type cells. At the surface level, they built spindles and segregated chromosomes in a generally expected amount of time, so we focused on preparing for our upcoming experiments…. then March 2020 occurred.

The pandemic forced us to slow down and look more carefully at our wild-type data, and I am grateful for the detour.

My students headed home for spring break with a warning that there may be a delay in coming back to campus due to the spread of COVID-19. None of us were prepared for the shutdown that followed. Like many colleges and universities, our campus was closed for the remainder of the spring 2020 semester and the summer of 2020. My students and I began meeting on Zoom, trying to make a new plan for our research. The only data we had to work with were the microscopy of wild-type maize cells, so we decided to spend time digging more deeply into these movies. Originally, we had only measured the total time it took to build a spindle as it would be a baseline for comparison to our mutants. We had not looked carefully at any of the intermediate time points in the assembly process. When my students looked more closely at our movies, they discovered that wild-type cells built an incorrectly shaped spindle over 60% of the time!

We found that maize meiotic cells often built spindles with three poles instead of two, and they had to actively rearrange their spindle structure to correct this mistake. We also found that in these cells, there was a delay in meiosis as cells refused to progress until this correction had been made. This is an exciting discovery as it showed that plants are error-prone in their spindle assembly, much like human female meiotic cells. Our findings also suggested that meiotic cells were monitoring their spindle shape when determining if they should move forward in meiosis. Previous work has shown that cells monitor the attachment of chromosomes to the spindle to make this decision, but our work adds a new dimension, showing that they also monitor spindle shape. As we continued to analyze our videos, we also learned that cells corrected their spindle morphology in a predictable way. They always collapsed the two poles that were closest together, creating a single pole and resulting in a correct bipolar spindle.

The image shows the first page of the paper which can be accessed here.

My students and I had begun our scientific journey planning to breeze over wild-type cells, moving on to what we envisioned would be a more exciting story of spindle mutants. The pandemic forced us to slow down and look more carefully at our wild-type data, and I am grateful for the detour. I rediscovered my love of closely watching flickering green fluorescent lights, the dance of microtubules sliding into place or making missteps and shuffling into new arrangements. Watching life attempt a complicated process, make mistakes, and try again, is a lesson that never grows old. It reminds me that our scientific journeys are just the same, they start in one direction but are fluid and constantly changing, and hopefully, they end with a functional spindle!

Read the Published Paper

Weiss, J.D., McVey, S.L., Stinebaugh, S.E., Sullivan, C.F., Dawe, R.K., and N.J. Nannas. 2022. Frequent spindle errors require structural rearrangement to complete meiosis in Zea maysInternational Journal of Molecular Sciences, 23 (8):4293–4312.

ABOUT: Stories in Science is a special series on the Civic Science Times. The main aim is to document the first-hand accounts of the human stories behind the science being published by scientists around the world. Such stories are an important element behind the civic nature of science.

SUBMISSION: Click here to access the story guidelines and submission portal. Please note that not all stories are accepted for publication. After submission, we will let you know whether we have selected the story for the review process.

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