Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Goldschmidt Conference Report-A Blog-Along Conversation


I just discovered Terry McGlynn’s great blog, and he wrote about a geochemistry conference—the Goldschmidt conference—which I attend occasionally. I was there in Sacramento, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you, Terry. Here, conversation-style, are his comments and my response & discussion.
·       As far as I can tell from this conference, if it were not for the study of isotope ratios, we would know absolutely nothing about the earth of the Earth. There’s a scene from Being John Malkovich in which all characters just say, “Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich.” This meeting felt similar: “isotope, isotope, isotope, isotope.”
True—but remember that “isotope” is a tool (it’s just chemistry, after all, on an extended periodic table) and the scientific questions-and-answers are key.
·       A lot of geochemistry is about developing and assuring the validity of methods. It all comes down to the accuracy and reliability of methods. I’d say that the vast majority of the talks and posters that I saw were about methods.
This community is heavy on the methods-development. This is good—there is great scientific richness to follow when better & better methods are being developed. Perhaps the focus on methods-development is an indicator that the science itself is not overly-mature.
·       A not-uncommon conversation-starter: “What machine do you have?”
“How big is your machine? Mine is so big!”
Such an interesting conversation to me because I come from a community (mineral physics) where we have made the transition to shared community resources for much of our work. I prefer the term “evolved”, and many years ago discovered that I could really make a geochemist uncomfortable (if desired) by saying the words “Shared community resources”
Much of the state-of-the-art mineral physics measurements are made at synchrotron-based beamlines, which are one to three orders of magnitude more expensive than mass spectrometers, depending on how the accounting is done. What this has meant for our field is worthy for an entire post, but includes at least these four positives: 1. Shift in focus from the techniques to the “big science questions” 2. a semi-organized community effort to discuss grand challenges and seed community infrastructure and facility 3. the ability for mineral physics to exist at smaller institutions, not just large rich ones. 4. More camaraderie and cooperation in the early & now-approaching-mid-career generation than in our previous pre-synchrotron advisors’ generations.
I think at least partially adopting this model would very very very (x100) good for isotope geochemistry.
 Geochemists are beardier than ecologists. But perhaps less scruffy.
Is the gender balance similar? Are there more beards simply because there are more men?
·       When conference registration costs about what I imagine you could get for a kidney on the black market, you get what you pay for. Very well organized, copious snacks of the non-cheap variety (including fresh raspberries and blackberries) and always fresh fruit available, constant coffee, and lots of drink tickets for the poster sessions. Which serve good beer. (Then again, the Entomology meeting is only one hundred bucks cheaper or so, and they don’t have any of that). And the students who volunteer not only get free registration, they also get paid!
The student-volunteer aspect is a good reminder for those who kvetch about costs.
·       I’m used to ecologists battling for fame and status by being the champion of an Important Theory. At least from the view of an outsider, I didn’t see this so much of it in Geochemistry. People weren’t selling theories, they were selling methods. (Then, I was told by insiders, once a method is unassailable, then it can be used to make all kinds of claims.) There still are crazy politics and personal agendas, but from my perspective, this meeting seemed a little closer to the false stereotype of the careful and passionless scientist.
Don’t worry! Grandstanding abounds!
·       These folks are, on average, fun and laid back.
Aren’t first impressions great? My guess is we’re the same…

·       Geochemistry has the same ethnic diversity problem as the fields of science with which I am familiar. And maybe a little worse.
Insert frowny face here. Note: perhaps existence of some community resources  will help diversify the field? Not sure if it has or has not for my field.
·       I was surprised to not see a super-duper emphasis on over-fancy statistics. There was plenty of modeling, and of course a well-reasoned treatment of variance and sampling errors. The approaches to stats were definitely not shoddy, but lacking the statistical machismo that I’ve grown accustomed to among ecologists. I walked away from the meeting with even greater confidence in our stated understanding of the historical chemical conditions on the planet.
Interesting—I think those with extra-worthy statistical chops can clean up in certain areas of geochemistry. Also big-data approaches might be useful.
·       When insect abundance increases in response to nutrient availability, then this is best summarized by saying that insects are “indicators” of nutrients. (To me, that’s a little bit like saying that a delicious meal home-cooked meal is an indicator of a quality grocery store.)
Oops—did someone misunderstand one of the points in your talk?

·       I suspect it’s harder to be a geochemist at a smaller institution than it is to be an ecologist. Geochemistry seems to always require one or more expensive machines that require constant love and maintenance. (This machine apparently measures isotopes of some kind, in some way.) So, you first need the cash to have the machine, and then you also need to keep a full-time lab tech. Without a tech, then faculty end up being mechanics rather than manuscript and grant machines. I suppose fancy private colleges can keep machines running if you’re blessed with a good technician.
·       You’d think that geochemists get to tramp all over the world for fieldwork. But from what I could tell, a bunch of people work locally. Moreover, a bunch of people are relying on samples collected by others. There is plenty of fieldwork; I talked to a grad student whose thesis is about dating volcanos and glacial periods in Iceland. I met a really cool guy who’ll be spending time working in super-remote Siberia. And people who go scuba-diving on coral reefs. But, it seems like a lot of it is in the lab, based on core samples that someone sends to you in the mail.
See my response about shared community resources. They permit participation from a wider variety of institutions. Less focus on instruments for some scientists means more focus on questions & science & samples = better geoscience.
·       Every person was extremely generous with their time in explaining very basic things to me. There were many terms and acronyms that they knew that I didn’t, and basic mechanisms or analyses that I hadn’t seen before. And big theories too. Bigwigs, postdocs and grad students all were both interested in sharing with me and took their time to make sure that I really understood what they were doing. I had the opportunity to ask a bunch of questions, and I did far more listening than asking. It was refreshing that this non-specialist was not only accepted, but also welcome, at the conference.
I found the same to be true (in general) when I first started doing isotope geochemistry experiments. There was some hostility, but balanced by support.  
·       What a bummer that it was in Sacramento this year. Vienna would have been nicer.
I have the opposite opinion about this. I liked the fact that I could drive to my state capitol, rent a cottage a few miles away, and bike back and forth to the conference.  Vienna—especially—is one of my least-favorite cities I have visited.
·       I met some folks at the meeting who I know internet-knew through this site, and they were really cool. I also failed to cross paths with some people, too, since I was only there for a short time. And since there are presumably a few geochemists reading this now, they’re well prepared to correct my misconceptions, I hope!
I’m sorry I didn’t meet you in Sacramento. Looking forward to meeting you at another Goldschmidt conference

Monday, June 23, 2014

What I Did On My Sabbatical


Last winter one of our visiting department colloquium speakers asked me what I was doing for my sabbatical?* My answer was overheard by my department chair who decided the time was right to inform me—then and there over celebratory wine and dinner at a colleague’s home—of the requirement to write up an official report on what-I-did-on-my-Sabbatical. So I’ll take care of that official part right now:

Dear Dean---,
Thank you so much for granting me sabbatical time in Fall 2013 and Spring 2014 (with a quarter in-service during winter 2014). I came home from work most days by 3 pm. Every day that my son and his friends stayed off the marijuana, I considered my sabbatical time well-spent.  

Yours always,
Professor MineralPhys

Plus there was the normal professional stuff, posted in my annual inventory.

That’s the short version. But what else did I do, besides weekday afternoons spent grilling quesadillas and baking cookies for my son and his friends to enjoy while they played video games instead of doing their homework?

There was a year spent trying to learn stat mech, transition state theory, and isotope theory. Lots of equations, derivations, making up constraints. Even if it comes to nothing, it felt like time well-spent.

I spent some time here. And some time here.

I had fun. How much? At one point, my brain thought: Is it possible to die from too much fun? My brain also answered this thought, which is what I really learned on my sabbatical, which I clearly needed to learn:
How to work hard while also not feeling guilty when I’m not working.

*The phrasing is often “where did you go for your sabbatical?” Asked that way, with its inference of spouse with flexible work life who can watch over the family, irks the bejeezus out of me. One of my colleagues didn’t buy my “sabbatical is a state-of-mind” response. Dear colleague who told me it’s not a real sabbatical if I don’t go to a foreign country for the year: I hope that after your life of science is done, you will be permanently assigned to the giant quesadilla grill in the sky.

Prof. Kavner during a sabbatical moment (Photo Credit: Prof. Kavner's Dad)


Saturday, June 21, 2014

Academic year inventory 2013-2014




Each year at this time I summarize my year’s activities. It’s hard to see the forward progress while I’m living it day-to-day, but looking back over a year I can see the accomplishments. It was a half-sabbatical year. I worked hard on a new theory project and learned a lot but no tangible (published) product yet. I travelled more than ever this year.

6 papers published
6 papers submitted
~14 works-in-progress
3 active grants
2 big plus 2 small proposals submitted
1 renewal
1 one-year-terminal renewal
2 rejection

Synchrotron Experiments
APS time—carbonate silicate experiments
APS time—Anke’s experiments

Travel/conferences/talks
COMPRES (2014 Columbia River Gorge)
Goldschmidt Conference (2014 Sacramento) (AK:2 talks Group: 2 talks)
CalTech Planetary seminar June 2014
DOE Geochemistry symposium (AK: talk)
LDEO seminar April 2014
ELSI  Tokyo Tech visit April 2014 (& talk)
Electrochemistry Gordon Conference (Jan 2014 Ventura)
AGU conference  (2013 San Francisco) (5 group abstracts)
GSA meeting (2013 Denver)
AGU committee meeting (Oct 2013)
U. South Carolina (Sept 2014)
AMNH seminar (Sept 2013)
CDAC review, Chicago (Sept 2013)

Group successes
Postdoc: got job offer and moved  to new job.
Grad student 1: submitted 2nd paper, new experiments, passed quals
Grad student 2: advanced to candidacy, 1 paper published, 2nd submitted, 3rd in prep

Teaching highlights
Taught ESS 119 undergraduate plate tectonics (3nd time)

Service highlights
COMPRES-chair of infrastructure committee
AGU Governance committee
Editorial for pcm—shepherded a batch of new papers
Reviews: many
NSF panel
Departmental service

Outreach
Blog, twitter
@realscientists curator

All Travel
COMPRES meeting Wisconsin June
NYC-POK-VT (8 different beds for 8 different nights…)
Summer sublet in NYC!
July synchrotron trip--APS
NYC-ADKs-VT-POK-NYC-LAX August
Sept: Chicago CDAC review
AMNH seminar
U. South Carolina Seminar
Washington DC AGU committee meeting
October GSA meeting Denver
November Daddy-daughter Grand canyon/Flagstaff/Phoenix
December San Francisco
December Texas Christmas
January Family Puerto Rico
April My Japan/ Family Japan
April NSF DC
April LDEO visit
May DOE geochem DC
June Goldschmidt Sacramento
June COMPRES
June: east coast/drop kid at camp

Saturday, June 7, 2014

My Visit to ELSI

Soon I will report how I spent my sabbatical time this past academic year.  But for now, here is a link to the blog hosted by Tokyo Tech's ELSI, where I spent some time earlier this spring.


Monday, May 12, 2014

Your Auntie-Advisor


Sometimes I’m auntie-advisor. Not for my own students, of course—because I’m their advisor, not “auntie-advisor.” But for others’ students, auntie-advisor is a great role to play.

When you’re from where I’m from, auntie and anti- are homophones, and that’s just as well, because auntie-advisor and anti-advisor are both relevant descriptions.

Your auntie advisor makes no demands, sees and appreciates all of your hard work, and cheers on your every wonderful scientific progress and outcome. I never had an auntie-advisor when I was growing up as a grad student, but I love being one for my colleague's students in my dept. and those that I meet while visiting colleagues' labs on the road.

As you progress, there will always be plenty of colleagues who will dole out constant criticism, might show you the exit door, will be hard on you, and demand more and more. Of course I can add to that--I've been trained to do so! But who is around who will only be supportive of all of your efforts? Understands the hard work and occasional misery? Empathizes with the human investment of trying to achieve at the pinnacle? Your auntie-advisor of course!

I’m sure it will be even more-so when I become Grandma-advisor. 
Can’t wait.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Fermi Problems and Earth's Surface Heat Flux from Interior


One of the things I teach in my undergraduate courses is how to do order-of-magnitude calculations.

An order-of-magnitude calculation (otherwise known as “Fermi-problem”) is a method to estimate quantitative answers for complex problems by combining smart logic with pre-calculus arithmetic. No calculators allowed! But scrwaling on napkins is encouraged.

Here’s one of my favorite order of magnitude questions because 1. It’s not difficult 2. But it’s an interesting Earth problem 3. With gobs of science-y richness at its center. I do it in all of my undergraduate and graduate geophysics classes.

The problem is this: Given the following map of surface heat flux, make an order-of-magnitude of the total surface heat flux coming from the Earth’s interior.


Map of Earth's Surface Heat Flux From Davies and Davies (2010) via Wikipedia
Here’s how I break it down for an undergraduate class:

1. What quantity is mapped here and what are the units?
2. What are the lowest values and where are they?
3. What are the highest values and where are they?
4. What is the average value of heat flux for the surface of the Earth?
5a. optional—how does this value compare with an incandescent light bulb (I can joke here about how this question will be obsolete soon)
5b. optional—how does this value compare with our own (human) energy output? (appeal to the ergometers machine at the gym here)
5c. optional—how does this value compare with the solar heat flux?
6. Now that we have an average value for heat flux, what other information do we need to get the total heat?
7.  How does one estimate Earth’s surface area? (crowd-source for formula for surface area of sphere –remind students that this is a good formula to memorize. Crowd-source for Earth’s radius of Earth. Encourage students to use iphones/internst for this step.)
8. Pretend that students are already perfectly competent to calculate order of magnitude surface areas once they have the values of radii and formula. Suggest that they round up to 1 sig digit on the radius and suggest that 4 * pi =10.
9. Then remind students to deal with units.
10. remind students that numbers with 10^12 have prefix “Tera”
11. Students should get an answer that is roughly 50 terawatts.
12. Watch them smile when they realize that the five or ten minutes that we have spent on this problem gets them fairly close to “accepted” values ranging from 44 to 47 TW.

****
Next up—where the map above comes from, another teaching opportunity for the concept of diffusion, why the total heat flux is important, and how and why scientists argue about it.  


Saturday, March 15, 2014

Fish report 2: Abby vs. Anchovies!


Recently, one of our department visitors (prospective grad student? Faculty candidate? One of the plate tectonics undergrads during office hours?) surprised me by asking me what my hobbies are.  I hadn’t thought about “hobbies” per se in so long that I needed to reframe the question for myself in order to answer it:

What, outside work and family, enriches my life?
(note—this is different from wikipedia’s defn. of hobby as something done regularly for pleasure, usually during leisure time.)

Well there’s food. I hesitate because I don’t want to erode my efforts to patiently educate my family to Never Call My Cooking a Hobby! The education consists of the following proclamations spoken as loudly as possible, while swinging around and pointing my kitchen knife directly at my students: What??!!? You classify the work that I do to prepare good food for the family as a hobby? Just because I get joy out of doing this job does not devalue the fact that it is still labor!! My Labor!!! (If my son is getting the lecture I might go off on a tangent about the labor involved bringing him into the world...) The lecture material is even more effective when I’m in the midst of preparing animal carcasses. Then I hand out assignments to whatever pupils might still be nearby: Taste the sauce & tell me what it needs! Chop the onions! Take out the garbage! Pour me a drink!

Recently, Santa Barbara’s Community Seafood Cooperative expanded and the past two months I have had my seafood share delivered to Santa Monica’s wonderful Wednesday produce market. I already wrote about the first month: angel shark, rockfish, swordfish, and mussel

Now I’m noticing I haven’t blogged since last month’s fish report. It’s not that my work/science/professional life doesn’t offer untold richness in potential blog material. I’m working on revising a paper for resubmission, and will blog about that science. I will blog more thoughts on how academia and academics, science and scientists, all suffer from lack of diversity. But while I was juggling big loads of teaching, research and service this past quarter, it has been much easier just to blog about seafood, if at all.

This past month dealt some difficult shares. First, windy weather and storms cancelled the share delivery. We mused about familiar themes of man-versus-nature over take-out pizza.  The next week there was a big pile of ridgeback shrimps, who looked remarkably alive as I twisted off their heads and removed their exoskeleton and had them sit like maggots in the colander. Squeamish? Sorry. Can’t be squeamish about the food share. Plus they fight back—at the end of the process my hands were red & swollen from tiny shell-shard cuts. They were delicious sautéed pink with lots of shallots and butter and eaten with linguine.

Week 9 of any academic quarter is never a high point. There are hardworking and tired grad students, lab work, proposals due, late reviews, cranky colleagues, faculty interviews, dog-and pony show for hordes of prospective graduate students, papers to write, lectures to give, plus it was my week tweeting as one of the @realscientists. In short: total spread thinnage and academic exhaustion at work while at home a second full week of single mom-dom due to traveling spouse. And in the middle of the week, I squeeze time to run to the market to grab my seafood share: a generous pound of small, still shimmering anchovies, and they’re looking at me with all their shiny eyes and I’m looking at them saying Fuck You, Anchovies Because You Are Not Arriving at a Time in My Life When I Can Deal With You. Into the freezer they went.

The weekend came and I slept and spent time with family and friends and rested. By Sunday afternoon I was ready to face down the anchovies. I defrosted them under running water. Between anchovy #5 and #10 I got the hang out of cutting off the head, finding the correct ventral cut, pulling out the guts, and then zipping out the backbone. I layered them in a ceramic bowl in piles of salt. I filled the bowl to the top with vinegar (sherry plus apple) and threw them in the fridge. I woke (too) early Monday morning, rinsed off the salt & vinegar & layered them in good olive oil & parsley & garlic & went back to sleep. Monday night they were cured.

This batch was too salty for eating on their own (next time—shorter salt marinade: 2-3 hrs instead of 12…) But they are perfect ground into pasta sauce ( one or two anchovies sautéed with the garlic & onion & tomatoes & red pepper over pasta) and Caesar salad dressing  (two anchovies blended with lots of parsley, more olive oil, meyer lemon juice and a barely poached egg & poured over salad). And they were great as the sauce on last week’s share: swordfish.

Anchovies in their salting phase