I’ve always thought giving presentations was fun. Not
the “hanging out with friends” kind of fun, but the “sleep deprivation from
doing psets” kind of fun. This journal club was particularly difficult. I never
presented to a room full of girls before. Thanks registrar. Honestly it wasn’t
too bad, I’ve given a ton of presentations in the past. I have my high school
science teacher to thank for that. She may look innocent, but that little old
Japanese woman is hardcore to the bone. She was the Miyagi to my Daniel, the
Frodo to my Gandalf or whatever, I never saw that movie.
The first time she
ever made me present scientific research was in front of a panel of speech
teachers. These guys must’ve been intense, the girl before me literally, not
figuratively, burst out of the room crying. I still have no idea what they said
to her. I made it out alive that day, the only comment I received was that I
looked “stoic.” I wonder why.
My scariest moment was when I was
presenting a journal club article written by my supervisor. Someone asked a
question and apparently the answer I gave wasn’t adequate. My supervisor stood
up in the crowd, said, “That’s wrong!” and proceeded to explain why I was
incorrect. The paper dealt with some entropy-based HTS screen to quantify tumor
cell heterogeneity. I still had yet to figure out where to put soap in the
laundry machine. It’s as if the deer in headlights got hit by another car
sneaking up on it from behind.
Turns out, nobody expects you to
know everything. There’s no shame in being wrong. What really matters is how
effectively you convey your work and findings. I might not always be confident
in my ability to “science,” but I’m confident that I can tell a story. No
vicious accusations or nervous breakdowns. I’d say mission accomplished.
Fig 1. Vicious Accusations. (please don't sue)
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