Some mornings I wake up and wonder who I am. I can't get used to the new me. I am a scientist. My parents think it's weird, but their incredulity is nothing compared to my own. I am a scientist. I know because I now have the Ph.D. in the biological sciences to prove it.
Why is that a surprise? Well, for as long as I can remember, I have been variously a rock star "wannabe," a struggling musician, a session musician, a songwriter, a recording artist, a borderline rock star, and then, suddenly, a has-been. Actually, more accurately, a has-almost-been. But I have the CDs and videos to prove it. My kids are going to be impressed. (Or embarrassed by those 1980s photographs of me in spandex and leg warmers. No, really, it was cool then!)
So, at 48 years old, having dropped out of school some 32 years ago, with almost no qualifications whatsoever, my crazy dash of the past nine years -- from high-school equivalency to bachelor's to master's to Ph.D. -- just doesn't quite register. It's weird, I tell you, but I am a scientist.
Now I have to get a postdoctoral position. A job. A real job. And that's not just weird; it's scary.
How did I find myself in this unnatural position? I was born in England but grew up in East Africa. I have amazing memories of vacations on the coast of Kenya, snorkeling in the deep azure ocean and chasing rainbow-colored fish around coral reefs. That gave me an early fascination for the natural world.
My dad was a teacher, and I was apparently intelligent but I didn't care. I just wanted to play music. I was a horrible student. Besides which, most of my parents' friends were teachers and I often saw them "misbehaving" at parties and so couldn't take them seriously when they acted all superior in the classroom. It's a sorry excuse, but I've stuck to it for decades.
Leaving Uganda in 1972, my dad struggled to get a decent job back home in Britain. As a result, I changed schools rather too frequently -- another reason why my early education was miserable. I decided to drop out as soon as it was legally possible and set about my career as a musician.
I had discovered loud music during my parents' aforementioned parties (in their defense, it was the '60s), and I had discovered David Bowie while at boarding school in England. The first concert I ever saw was Ziggy Stardust, and I touched his hand. I was 13 years old and decided then and there that I was going to be a rock star. In retrospect, that man really messed me up.
After leaving school, I sang with various bands and by late 1980 found myself in a rock band touring the United States. Although the band was nothing more than average, I stayed in America for almost two years and went back home convinced of my imminent overnight success.
Unfortunately, I struggled for years and only ever made enough of a living to get by. I sang rock, which hadn't been popular in Britain since the 1970's, and I couldn't dance. I'm also not particularly pretty. By the time the Spice Girls came along, I knew it was time to find a different career.
Stepping back in time a little, a visit to Florida's SeaWorld in 1987 was another defining moment. I watched the trainers swimming around the tanks with Shamu, the killer whale, and thought, "Wow! I want that job!" -- a wonderful combination of entertainment and the natural world. I asked for a position. I was told that I needed various qualifications, almost all of which I already had. I could scuba dive; I was a confident swimmer. The list of criteria went on until I hit a bit of a stumbling block: "And you need a degree in marine biology."
Although I decided right then and there that I would like to go back to school, it wasn't until 1995 that I had the courage and a reason (those damned Spice Girls!) to follow through. I had time on my hands and had started driving heavy-goods vehicles to pay the bills. Prior to that, I had been doing session work for prima-donna musicians. I hated it because it was ruining my love of music. I hated driving, too, but at least the music was safe.
I applied to London's Birkbeck College, an institution specifically aimed at adults wanting to learn new skills while holding down a full-time job. I attended an access course in biology and chemistry and loved it. A pass with distinction automatically enrolled me in a bachelor's program at the University of London. In July 2000, I graduated with a first-class honors degree (the equivalent of summa cum laude) in biochemistry.
I recall a conversation with my father at that time. I had been given the opportunity to move to the University of Plymouth, about 200 miles from London, to pursue a master's degree, and I wasn't sure whether to take it. He suggested instead that I "try getting a real job" as I was "not getting any younger."
True to form, one word from my father and I did as I pleased -- moved to Plymouth and earned a master's in applied fish biology in the fall of 2001.
Taking another step back in time, while studying for my bachelor's degree, I was fascinated by the unusually powerful immune system of sharks and the possibility that an understanding of that system may help in the fight against human disease. While doing research on that topic, I stumbled across the Web site for the Medical University of South Carolina, in Charleston, and its unique program in marine biomedicine. To paraphrase its grand mission statement, the program places an emphasis on human health but by investigating the relationships of organisms within the marine environment. Bingo!, I thought. That's where I should be.
So I found myself in Charleston in August 2001, still writing my master's thesis and beginning an experimental first-year core curriculum at the Medical University. Unfortunately, upon my arrival, I was informed that a hoped-for grant in the field of shark biology was a lost cause, so, chasing the available money for graduate-student support, I spent far too long on a crash-and-burn project investigating shrimp immunity. The reader will, no doubt, agree that shrimp are just not as sexy as sharks.
After more than two years, taking a fairly big risk, I resigned from that particular lab, and, determined to revisit my goal of using marine models to understand human disease, I wrote a proposal to study cardiogenesis in the zebrafish. The more discerning reader (or more pedantic) will note that the zebrafish is, in fact, a freshwater fish (not marine), but that is a mere detail. I sent my proposal to researchers all across the country and was quickly offered a position at Duke University in May 2004.
Three years later, I defended my dissertation and am now, officially, a scientist. Weird!
Now it's off to make my fortune in the big, bad world. I have some ideas, but I feel no better equipped for this change than I would have felt at half my age, when most Ph.D. "youngsters" are facing similar challenges. I admire their courage and envy their drive. When I was their age, I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I'm still not quite sure where my Ph.D. will take me, but I'm looking forward to another chapter.
I face some limitations. Being a foreigner, it is unlikely that I will find a U.S. company willing to take me on, as the visa issues can be intimidating. If I want a job in industry, I probably need to look back toward Europe.
Academe is somewhat different, although there are some frustrating restrictions, and I have already extended my J-1 visa for postdoctoral training. I sent my CV and the obligatory copies of my one-and-only (though, I have to say, very impressive) publication to exotic, exciting places all across the globe where institutions are looking to hire a postdoctoral researcher: Australia, Spain, Duluth, Minn., (more exotic than you'd think) and, so far, the future looks bright.
I have turned down two postdoc offers. Australia, because it's just too far, and Duluth, because, well OK, it's not that exotic. There are now other offers to consider and I will, I hope, be gainfully employed within the coming months.
What advice can I possibly give, being such a late starter and so far behind the typical Ph.D.?
Well, first, be sure that you have impressed someone important or influential, preferably your mentor or supervisor. A great reference from someone admired will get you through the door and noticed. Then, of course, it's up to you. Work on your charisma, also known as your "interview style."
Second, sometimes "what the heck" is the right answer. Take life by the horns and have some fun. If things don't work out, it's never too late to try something new.
