As part of my graduate coursework in chemistry, I took a biophysical chemistry course from Professor Wray Huestis — not because my research was in biophysical chemistry, but because I was curious. Possibly my best move ever in choosing my classes, since she gave us one of the smartest and most useful writing assignments I’ve ever encountered.
The task was to write a proposal for a novel piece of research in biophysical chemistry.
To start, you had to read around to figure out what the outstanding problems were. You also had to read around to get a sense of what kinds of experimental systems and techniques might be workable. My recollection is that there was a large amount of scouring the literature and thinking like a scientist loaded into the front-end of the project, before you could really bang out a draft or even a detailed outline.
The proposal itself had nearly all the canonical parts of a real research proposal. It required a background section where you had to give a clear and concise yet thorough account of the current state of knowledge with respect to the specific research being proposed. It required a materials and methods section, wherein you had to describe the system and methods you were proposing and explain why these were a promising approach to answering the research question. As far as I can recall, there was no budget section, but beyond that, what you were writing for class was very similar to the real deal.
In preparing us to write these proposals, Prof. Huestis emphasized that the most important question we had to answer in our proposals was so what? Why should anyone care about the particular question we were posing? How would it matter to the body of biophysical knowledge if the research came off the way we anticipated it would? Why was this particular experimental system, this particular instrumental approach, any more promising than the many alternatives available?
The idea that someone reviewing a research proposal would be asking themselves, “So what?” as they read conveyed a real sense of audience for the writing. We had to make sure that each individual section, and the proposal as a whole, gave a compelling answer to that question.
Then, we had 30 minutes to make a presentation of our proposal to the class and field tough questions. Writing the proposal with the knowledge that we would also have to make the case orally to a jury of our peers put real pressure on us both to make the written version clear and to make sure we really understood what the heck we were talking about (especially in the background). If we didn’t, after all, that would come out under questioning.
I probably worked harder on that assignment than on any other graduate course assignment I’ve had (including those I had in philosophy), but it taught me a lot about what clear and effective scientific writing is about.
I’m in a graduate course this semester called Molecular and Cellular Reproduction, and we’re going to be writing grant proposals with our classmates reviewing the grant proposals as it would be done with an NIH grant. I am hoping that this will be as beneficial as your assignment was in terms of “learning by doing.”
Dr. Free-Ride, what did you propose?
Sounds like my comprehensive exam, only replace class with committee. And no budget with budget, as I submitted it as an NSF proposal.
I think writing as a scientists is an important skill. We try to teach our intro biology labs with that in mind — emphasizing lab reports as training for writing up your own research for peer review.
I thought that research proposals/mock grant applications were pretty standard writing exercises for science courses. They’ve been part of every biomed PhD or upper-level writing course I’ve seen up close.
I’ve taken an organic chemistry class with Huestis. She was the best orgo professor – I almost liked organic chemistry when she taught it. She had a really organized coursereader that allowed me to actually follow along and learn in class rather than frantically scribble things down. She also had a dry sense of humor – LiAlH4 – ‘The Hammer’. Awesome.
So What?
It always astonishes me, how many PhD students stumble over the ‘so what’ question. It is an obvious one, both to ask oneself and for the cometee to ask at the defense. Still, many think it ‘unfair.
Huh. This sort of thing wasn’t at all an option when I was in physics grad school in the early-to-mid ’90s. I may have been in an especially “old school” department, though.
I’m at the Rockefeller University right now for my PhD, and in most classes there are exactly two kinds of assignments: recommended papers for background reading, and research proposals like this.
And Kristin, it’s almost nonexistent in physics departments. I teleported from cond mat theory (hard cond mat, not anything close to biophysics) to infectious disease about a year and a half ago, quite by accident, and there are a lot of things I would send back across the line, including this. And having a lot more experimental emphasis in courses.
I have the same experience as RPM. The preparation of an NIH or NSF-style research proposal was part of our advancement to candidacy here. All students desiring to advance to candidacy for the Ph.D. must give a 1 hour seminar to the department (open to the entire school, but you can guess how many people actually come from outside chemistry/physics/chemical engineering) on the background of the topic. Following this, the graduate student gives a shorter (30-40 minute) presentation on the specifics of the proposal to their committee (mine has 6 members). The committee proceeds to grill the student orally on the proposal.
Worthwhile? Yes. Stressfull? Horrendously. However, I no longer have stage fright when I speak in front of groups.