Several years ago, when I was first hired as an assistant professor of biology at the University of Maine at Augusta, I found myself in an unanticipated Catch-22.
I was told that in order to receive tenure I would have to engage in some sort of scholarly activity that resulted in documented contributions in my field. To me, that meant research and publication. That seemed reasonable enough on the surface; I was certainly eager to take on such work, and I was a well-trained investigator from my days in graduate school and as a postdoc.
However, I soon discovered that the university had no available laboratory space or start-up money for lab equipment, nor did it have a grants office -- all key facets of successful laboratory programs. My colleagues and administrators realized, of course, the absurdity of my situation, and promised to help me however they could, but the institution is not exactly flush with cash, so I was primarily left to figure out this puzzle on my own.
For those of you who hate mysteries and need to flip to the back of the book to know how things all work out, rest assured that this past summer I began working with two dedicated students on a microbial ecology project. But the road to that modest research was a bumpy one, and I have found myself having to think about laboratory science in ways that no graduate program or postdoctoral experience could ever have prepared me for.
This is the story of my quest for science on the cheap.
Chapter 1: Trash Picking
My first big breakthrough came when, after volunteering in a laboratory at a much larger and well-financed university a few summers ago, a senior scholar offered me a piece of used equipment that he no longer needed.
I don't know if he realized what a significant gift he was bestowing on me at the time, but this thermal cycler (DNA amplifier) was the beginning of my lab. It would have cost $7-8,000 new, and my supportive department would not have been able to scrape up enough to cover even half of its cost. It became the bedrock of my lab project.
Chapter 2: Loose Change
After acquiring the thermal cycler, I began to think of things I might do with the equipment and came up with a project involving arsenic in groundwater, which is a local issue and seemed tenable on a budget. However, to do the work I still needed other equipment, plus a relatively clean room in which to experiment.
That fall I wrote a grant proposal for a small state grant, which would net me about $6,000 in equipment money. For nonscience readers, that amount is truly loose change. My graduate adviser regularly pulls in 100 times that for his research. However, I had to bet that $6,000, combined with the donated instrument, could be effectively stretched.
Chapter 3: Housecleaning
My next breakthrough was the acquisition of some lab space. The room that was to become my lab had once, many decades ago, been fitted as a classroom lab. However, in the intervening years, it had become a junk room/student resource center/storage closet. There were decades of old chemicals, files, outdated textbooks, coffee mugs, and broken pipettes, among other debris, crammed in the cabinets, staining the benches, and falling out of the bookcases. Arranged on top of the pile was approximately half of a rock collection, left there by a long-departed geology instructor.
I spent the following summer cleaning. It took me weeks to identify, sort, and dispose of the rock samples, hazardous waste, and obsolete equipment. I brought in friends to help me cart off all the old paper materials and start wiping down surfaces. Fortunately, the director of facilities stepped up and had the place painted; and so, while the room might not have met the electric, plumbing, and ventilation standards of some labs, it was beginning to look a lot more usable.
Chapter 4: Going Shopping
Now came the truly challenging part: How could I buy all the equipment that I needed without breaking the bank?
My first stop was eBay. Yes, if you Google "transilluminator," you might end up with an online auction. I had never bought or sold anything used online before, but, after a brief investigation, I discovered that the transilluminator that would be a prohibitive $1,000 new, might be as little as $500 used if I played my cards right.
The bidding for this thing was surprisingly intense, but I had been tutored sufficiently to know that if I really wanted something, I should wait until the last five minutes to pounce, which I did. And I won it.
Other pieces of equipment were to be found through companies that specialized in used instruments. The manuals for used equipment are often missing and/or no longer even published by the manufacturers, but I also discovered a life-saving Internet practice among my fellow science nerds of sharing old manuals through scanned PDF's. So by last spring, I had a few basic pieces of functional lab equipment, a lab space, and a germ of an idea with which to use them.
Chapter 5: Setting Up Shop
I wanted to create an undergraduate research experience that was meaningful and relevant to the local students we serve. To accomplish that, I chose a research problem that affected area residents: We would examine the role of microbes in arsenic contamination, which is a significant problem in the state of Maine.
I needed local samples to experiment on, so I contacted the state geologist and the Maine office of the U.S. Geological Survey for help. Fortunately for me, it turns out both wanted a connection with the local university campus. Not only have they helped, we are now negotiating the establishment of a summer internship program at the survey office and the loan of several pieces of equipment to the university.
Other obstacles had to be overcome, too. Chief among those was how to stretch my remaining money to buy materials and supplies for two summer researchers. Fortuitously, two key events occurred. First, my department chairwoman came up with $2,000 out of her limited budget for a few extra things we needed. Second, an agent for a major science vendor felt underrepresented in the state and wanted my business. He is also a nice guy and has sent me nearly every free sample sitting in his office or car that was relevant to my work. If he did not have what I needed, he asked manufacturers for samples.
Chapter 6: Happily Ever After?
Over the last two years, I have endeavored to create a laboratory project that would accomplish multiple goals: begin research in a biology program that had never before provided intensive lab experience for its undergraduate majors; keep my mind wrapped around an interesting scientific problem; and, of course, bolster my CV.
While my results and my students' are still inconclusive, as of this writing, I am satisfied with the project as a whole. In fact, one thing I have learned is that teaching research skills -- a facet of science that is often omitted in graduate training -- is as rewarding as doing all the work myself.
I have to confess that as a graduate student and postdoc I never would have anticipated the need to dispose of a 40-year-old blood analyzer or bid on eBay for equipment, but I have become intrigued by the process and energized about the science.
And I've just learned about another old piece of equipment that I might be able to acquire. Anyone want to buy a used transilluminator?
