Concrete Reasons for the Abstract

I’ve just finished my last set of undergraduate lab report marking for this year and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Overall, however, the quality of the students’ reports has improved considerably over the year, with some producing work of a very high standard. (I get a little frustrated at times with the frustrating Daily Mail-esque whining about “students these days” that infects certain academics of a certain vintage.) Nonetheless, there remain some perennial issues with report writing…

My colleague James O’Shea sent the following missive/ cri de coeur to all of our 1st year undergrad lab class yesterday. I’m posting it here — with James’ permission, of course — because I thought it was a wonderful rationale for the importance of the abstract. (And I feel James’ pain.) Over to you, James.


 

You have written your last formal report for the first year but you will write many more in the coming years and possibly throughout your career. It seems that the purpose of abstracts and figure captions has not quite sunk in yet. This will come as you read more scientific papers (please read more scientific papers). What you want is to give a complete picture of why the experiment was needed, what the hypothesis was, how it was explored, what the result was, and what the significance of that result is. You should read your abstract back as if it is the only thing people will read. In most cases, it really is the only thing they will read. If the abstract does not provide all these things, the likely outcome is that they won’t bother reading the rest – your boss included – and all the work you put in doing the research will be for nothing.

If a researcher (or your boss) does decide – based on the abstract – that they are interested in your report or paper, they might if they are short of time first just look at the figures. The figure caption is therefore vital. Again, look at the figure and read the caption back to yourself as if this (in conjunction with the abstract) is the only thing they will read. It has to be understandable in isolation from the main body of the text. The figure represents the work that was done. The caption needs to explain that work.

If your boss did read the abstract and decided to look at the figures, they will then most likely skip to the conclusions. From this they will want to get an overview of what new knowledge now exists and what impact it will have on their company or research program. They might then recommend that others in the organisation read your report in detail to find out how robust the research is, or they might give you the go ahead to do more research, or let you lead your own team. But if your abstract did not tell the interesting story in the first place, or your figure captions did not convey what work was done, your report might not even get read in the real world.

Best regards

James O’Shea

 

 

Pressure vessels: the epidemic of poor mental health among academics

This post takes its title from a talk that will be given by Liz Morrish here at UoN next week. (5:00 pm on May 21 in The Hemsley.) Here’s the outline:

Liz Morrish will present findings that show how staff employed at Higher Education Institutions/ Universities are accessing counselling and occupational health services at an increasing rate. Between 2009 and 2015, counselling referrals have risen by 77 per cent, while staff referrals to Occupational Health services during the same period have risen by 64 per cent. This attests to an escalating epidemic of poor mental health among the sector’s employees. I will consider some of the factors which weigh on the mental health of academic staff: escalating and excessive workloads; the imposition of metric surveillance; outcomes-based performance management; increasing precarity and insecure contracts. Universities have been characterised as ‘anxiety machines’ which purposefully flout legal requirements to prevent stress in the workplace. Given the urgency of the situation, I will propose some recommendations which if institutions were to follow, might alleviate some of the pressures.

…and here’s Liz’s bio:

Liz Morrish is an independent scholar and activist for resistance to managerial appropriation of the university. She is a visiting fellow at York St John University. She was principal lecturer and subject leader of linguistics at Nottingham Trent University until speaking out and writing about the mental health of academics brought about her resignation in 2016. She is completing a co-authored book on managerial discourse in the neoliberal academy, entitled Academic Irregularities (Routledge forthcoming) and she also writes a blog with the same name: https://academicirregularities.wordpress.com/. Having exited the academy, Liz now has more time for other activities, and she now spends time as a marathon swim observer.

I met Liz a number of years ago, when she was principal lecturer at Nottingham Trent University. Not so long after we met, NTU disgracefully brought disciplinary proceedings against Liz when she spoke out about the mental health of academics, ultimately causing her to resign. For the full story on NTU’s shocking behaviour — driven, of course, by its metrics-and-league-table-infected management ‘strategy’ — an exceptionally important article written for the Times Higher Education shortly after Liz’s resignation is a must-read. Here’s a taster, but you should read the entire article for deep insights into just how low a university will go in its attempts to protect its reputation and pressure its staff:

In March last year [2016], Times Higher Education republished a blog piece that I wrote on the causes of stress and threats to mental health in academic life. The piece recounted how, on University Mental Health Day, I opened up to students about some of the pressures their lecturers were under. Many readers were kind enough to retweet the link, respond under the line or email me personally to let me know that my article resonated for colleagues around the world. But after it had received 10,000 hits on my own blog and spent four days trending on THE’s website, my previous employer objected to it and I was obliged to ask for it to be taken down. This inaugurated a disciplinary process that I felt curbed my ability to write further on the topic, or to have a frank dialogue with students on mental health in universities.

I feel very fortunate indeed that I am employed by the “other” university in Nottingham. Although I have had, and continue to have, my spats with senior management here, they have not once asked me to constrain or curtail my criticism of university (and University) culture; there’s been not so much as a quiet word in my ear following even rather scathing public critiques. Thank you, UoN, for your commitment to academic freedom.

I’d very much appreciate it if those of you who are Twitter-enabled UoN academics could spread the word about Liz’s talk. (I’ve forgone that particular form of communication.)  I hope to see you there on May 21.

 

If it seems obvious, it probably isn’t

…And Then There’s Physics’ post on science communication, reblogged below, very much struck a chord with me. This point, in particular, is simply not as widely appreciated as it should be:

“Maybe what we should do more of is make it clear that the process through which we develop scientific knowledge is far more complicated than it may, at first, seem.”

There can too often be a deep-seated faith in the absolute objectivity and certainty of “The Scientific Method”, which possibly stems (at least in part) from our efforts to not only simplify but to “sell” our science to a wide audience. The viewer response to a Sixty Symbols video on the messiness of the scientific process, “Falsifiability and Messy Science”, brought this home to me: The Truth, The Whole Truth, and Nothing But…

(…but I’ve worried for a long time that I’ve been contributing to exactly the problem ATTP describes: Guilty Confessions of a YouTube Physicist)

By the way, if you’re not subscribed to ATTP’s blog, I heartily recommend that you sign up right now.

...and Then There's Physics

There’s an interesting paper that someone (I forget who) highlighted on Twitter. It’a about when science becomes too easy. The basic idea is that there are pitfalls to popularising scientific information.

Compared to experts,

laypeople have not undergone any specialized training in a particular domain. As a result, they do not possess the deep-level background knowledge and relevant experience that a competent evaluation of science-related knowledge claims would require.

However, in the process of communicating, and popularising, science, science communicators tend to provide simplified explanations of scientific topics that can

lead[s] readers to underestimate their dependence on experts and conclude that they are capable of evaluating the veracity, relevance, and sufficiency of the contents.

I think that this is an interesting issue and it partly what motivated my post about public involvement in science.

However, I am slightly uneasy about this general framing. I think everyone is a…

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Bursting Ben’s Bubble: Shapiro meets the rabid lefty Andrew Neil

I thoroughly recommend that you take sixteen minutes of your time today to watch just what happens when a leading Conservative pundit is required to leave his YouTube and Fox News safe space and respond to reasonable, rational questions put to him in a far-from-confrontational yet critical tone…

Shapiro, who throws around the “snowflake” epithet with wild abandon and regularly whines about the over-sensitivity of his political opponents, walked out of the interview because he thought that Andrew “Brillo” Neil was too much of a lefty. Yep, this Andrew Neil. That renowned darling of the left. As those wags at Private Eye — who have taken every available opportunity to highlight Mr. Neil over the years —  would put it, shurely shome mistake?

Shapiro’s tantrum was followed by the amusing meltdown of his hypersensitive fans who whined about Neil’s “rudeness” during the interview…

Watch the interview. Make up your own mind as to how Shapiro performed outside the echo chamber of his YouTube subscriber base. But make sure you watch right to the end. Andrew Neil’s closing line is delicious.

 

The wit and wisdom of Associate Deans

There are very, very, very few things I miss about Twitter but the brilliantly incisive @ass_deans is certainly one…

 

The New IOP Physics Technician Award

I received an e-mail from the Institute of Physics a couple of days ago on the new IOP Technician Award and was planning to blog about it. Peter Coles beat me to it, however. His post below highlights the essential contributions of support and technical staff to universities; they are the lifeblood of everything we do. And that’s especially true for physicists of the experimental stripe like myself.

I’ve got to say that while I have the occasional moan about some aspects of my own university, Nottingham (where Peter was a colleague some time ago), when it comes to recognising the contributions of technicians, UoN has a pretty good track record. For one, it was a founding signatory of the Technician Commitment.

In the Dark

Picture Credit: Cardiff University School of Physics & Astronomy

I remember a few years ago one of my colleagues when I worked in the School of Physics & Astronomy at Cardiff University, Steven Baker, won an award for being the best STEM Technician in the category of Physical Sciences in the whole country! At the time this was a new award set up by the Higher Education Academy, so Steven was the inaugural winner of it.

Now there’s another new award, this time from the Institute of Physics and dedicated to Physics technicians (not necessarily in universities). I quote:

The IOP Technician Award enables the community to recognise and celebrate the skills and experience of technicians and their contribution to physics.

You can find full details of how to nominate an awardee here. The deadline is 14th June 2019. The prize is worth £1000, but more…

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