Stuart Lindsay,
Professor of Physics

The Thrill of Discovery

If the goal of prizes is to encourage the activity that is rewarded, then the Faculty Mentoring Award is not really needed. Graduate mentoring is the most rewarding part of a university professor's job, and most of us would do it wholeheartedly regardless of incentives or obstacles.

On the whole, our graduate student population comes to us in pretty good shape. Any weak technical skills are strengthened in the initial phase of the graduate program. The second phase—the main phase—is the core of graduate education. It is the process whereby a skilled and trained young person becomes a practicing and independent scientist. Success in the second phase bears almost no relation to success in the first. I never cease to be amazed by the lack of a correlation: great scores in examinations, while not necessarily a hindrance, have little to do with measuring the skills required for success in creative science. Indeed, this second transitional stage occupies most of a graduate education. I know that the overwhelming majority of my working day is spent with students who are in the process of becoming scientists.

What, then, are the skills that a student develops in this formative second stage? What are the qualities required for a successful student? What can a mentor do to bring about this development? I shall try to answer these questions in what follows. Let me begin by summarizing the main points. I have been lucky enough to have five of my former students or postdocs find positions as tenure-track faculty. They share a common trait: regardless of their technical skills—which have varied considerably—each has done good science, by which I mean they have made a major contribution to a problem of interest to many laboratories. The doing of good science is almost, of itself, the making of a good scientist. I believe that almost any reasonably competent person can do good science, given the desire to do so. And the desire—the burning desire—to do science is itself aroused by the thrill of doing it. It is like a love of great music: no book will ever generate the thrill of first hearing a great orchestra. And no classroom experience can simulate the thrill of discovery. This, then, is the job of a mentor: to let the student know "You can do it. You can do it all by yourself. You can do it better than I can." And, of course, the mentor also provides the resources and environment to do the science in the first place. Grant-writing is an essential part of the job for faculty at a research university. We complain about the endless hours spent preparing proposals, but most graduate education cannot proceed without external funding. I encourage students to get involved with the preparation of proposals precisely because their careers often hinge on their graduate research.

Now for some of the details.

My first question deals with the endpoint: What are the skills that are developed in the research portion of the graduate degree? Here are some answers:

• Acquiring confidence in the scientific method. This really is only gained by seeing it work firsthand
• Learning the value of criticism; finding out that being shown to be wrong is a learning, not a humiliating, experience
• Learning to persevere
• Learning to improvise; researchers have to be enterprising
• Learning how to ask questions and how to listen to answers
• Gaining the confidence to pursue independent solutions to problems

The nonscientist might be surprised to see that I do not list mathematical, computational, or experimental skills. Anyone who can get into a graduate program in physical science already has these skills in some measure. They are no more special than the ability to ride a bicycle or speak Spanish. Perhaps the nonscientist will also recognize that many of the skills I have listed are those required for success in almost any field.

The next question relates to the starting point: What qualities are required of the student? The primary requirement is a desire for knowledge. Unfortunately, all too many students believe that formal course work is the path to enlightenment and so delay, too long, the wonderful moment of making their own discovery. In any case, no matter how it is expressed, curiosity is the first requirement. Given a certain level of intellect, I think it may be the only requirement. Scientists are reputed to be single-minded and hardworking, but, in my experience, they don't have to start that way. It seems to me that the thrill of discovery drives all other aspects of development. Who wants to watch TV when another few hours in the lab could answer the question that has eaten you up all week? What is so tough about reading the Russian theory paper when it might hold the key to understanding an important experiment? Of course, I have had moments of concern that a particular student would not want to exert adequate effort. However, the only—and unfailing—way to effect a change is to do whatever one can, as an instructor, to hasten the usually serendipitous arrival of the moment of discovery.

The third and final question is: What can a mentor do? It should be clear from the discussion above that the mentor must provide the best possible environment for discovery. One can pose good problems, but there is no one prescription for their solutions; thus, constant measuring and feedback are needed. This begins with regular meetings to discuss progress, preferably with a group of peers. No matter what standards the mentor may set, measurement of research success has to come from exposure to a broader community; this is obtained through the process of peer review as papers are submitted for publication and through interaction with other practicing scientists at meetings. Nothing can substitute for feedback from the international research community. Over the years, I have come to believe that "publish or perish" is more of an imperative for graduate students than for faculty because it is so vital a part of the student's education. Research and the dissemination of research are expensive undertakings, so adequate funding is—in the sciences, at least—a prerequisite. Given the competition for resources, external funding also offers some indication to an incoming student that a mentor is carrying out first-rate research.

The most pleasurable, and important, part of the mentoring process, however, comes when the student is on the verge of discovery. It is impossible to avoid the excitement. No matter the pile of papers on your desk or that you're late for a faculty meeting, you have to be in the lab or at the computer screen. I love to share the excitement as the new experiment or calculation is explained. Much as I believe in leaving the students alone to "learn by their own mistakes," it becomes impossible at this point. I have to help to set up the next experiment or chase theorists for a lead to its interpretation. One gets repeated doses of vicarious pleasure by roaming the corridors and proselytizing colleagues about the wonderful thing a student has done. When that moment comes for the student, it is time for thesis writing and graduation. Once experienced, the thrill of discovery provides the student-scientist, and the faculty member, continuing motivation for a lifetime of science.