When Tears Flow In Science

Daniel Michele, PhD

Professor, Molecular & Integrative Physiology

Iam not what you would describe as an overly emotional person. But the first time that I remember, I cried in my office…in a Zoom meeting…in front of my colleagues.

Going into my final year as graduate program director, I was feeling pretty good. After 2 years on the job, I knew most of the answers about the minutia of Rackham rules and graduate program policies without asking the past director, Sue Moenter, or Student Services Representative extraordinaire, Michele Boggs. Although I am horrible with names and still call my kids by my dogs’ names sometimes, the graduate students’ names, their mentors, and their dissertation research topics were locked in my memory and rolled off my tongue. With many students, unexpected friendships have formed. But who could predict what would happen in 2020? A global pandemic, a mandatory halt of nearly all research for months, stark reminders of the impact of racism in society and our workplaces, and political divisiveness that ended in a riotous mob inside the US Capitol shocked us all.

To say that this past year was a challenge to our graduate program and our students is an understatement. The fear in the present and uncertainty for the future for our students and mentors were palpable. The isolation and loss of social gatherings made the whole experience even worse. The work as graduate program director immediately took me down new roads for supporting students’ needs that stretched me thin. Particularly disappointing for me was the loss of in-person dissertation celebrations for our students who had spent years to reach the promised land of being awarded a PhD. But it was the personal stories and meeting one-on-one with struggling students that took me to the brink of tears. As an alumni of MIP, this was not the graduate school experience that I fondly remember, nor the positive environment we had worked so hard to create for our students in our graduate program. In that Zoom meeting, there was a minor debate about a sensitive topic related to the graduate program, and the dam finally broke. Full-on water works.

I turned off my camera and collected my thoughts. When I returned, the tone of the meeting had changed, and my colleagues in the meeting lifted me up with personal encouragement and collective support. The experience in the meeting was a reminder of what was indeed positive throughout 2020. The MIP community mobilized itself in support of each other and support of our graduate students. Essential employees maintained critical reagents on behalf of entire labs. Students found new and creative ways to share and learn new skills and make progress on their research from home. Mentors provided needed social support with virtual game nights and happy hours. Mental health was prioritized. Staff continued to provide support services from home, often from their kitchen tables.

Of course, I will be happy to never experience “another 2020” again in my lifetime. I am reminded however that there is another time where tears often flow in science, which is the closing remarks of students at their dissertation defense. A whole other deck of slides is typically unveiled at the end, to cover the thank yous to supportive mentors, the lab mates who contributed to the student’s project, the friends that made graduate school an enjoyable journey, pets who were acquired along the way, and key family members who never waivered in their support despite not understanding what a physiology is. The community of support that enables any individual’s success in graduate school, or any endeavor including being a graduate program director, is often large. MIP fortunately has no shortage of that support for each other. A few tears may flow in science, but most of the time they are good tears. •