Tuesday, August 19, 2014

"I don't know"

Like everyone else, I look up to my advisors a lot. They are my role-models as a scientists, mentors to my research career, and advisors to my PhD track. While they are not the biggest names in the field of material science and engineering, they certainly have an untouchable aura around them. (Tony being the father of texture is often our joke, while I assume that Greg came up with the entire idea of grain boundary character distributions). They've produced tens (probably hundreds) of publications, and have given even more talks. Written review papers and chapters as premier leaders of the field they specialize in. And the two further impress me by continuing to do their own research all while advising me and several other students, traveling for conferences, teaching classes, and applying for grants. When I ask a question, I will most certainly always get an answer (usually the response is, "Oh it's already been done," or, "I doubt there will be an significant influence from [x]", and lastly, "Well I think this is the next direction we should go to solve this.") Every time, they are right.

Greg, as an expert, giving an keynote talk.
So very rarely, when the words, "I don't know," come out, I suddenly become very confused and lost. Have I somehow broken research? Asked something that I shouldn't have? What do you mean you don't know the answer when you're the expert in the field?

Then the silence begins.

Arms crossed. Eyes closed. Fingers tapping on the desk.

And the silence continues.


"Well, if we really want to figure this out, we should probably try [y]." Pause, "Yeah, let's definitely try that first. I'm not entirely sure, but if it gives something, it should help explain [z]."

They've fallen from the pedestal I've placed them upon.

They're human, like the rest of us.

When this occurs, I realized how many years it's taken for them to become the experts of the field. How many experiments they must've performed. And how many hypotheses must've failed before getting to where they are.


It makes me feel infinitely better that I don't have the answers to everything, that I don't know everything, and that I won't do everything right. It takes time, and even then, like them, I still might not know.

I did my very best to find the most "normal" looking picture of my advisor to emphasis this point





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