As scientists, we are trained to read papers, and lots of them.
We learn to scan abstracts, dissect methods, and critique results. Yet sometimes, stepping outside the narrow corridors of peer-reviewed literature can offer a much-needed breath of intellectual fresh air. That’s exactly what I found in Everything Evolves, the latest book by my colleague at UdeS: Mark Vellend.
Mark is known for his deep, deliberate thinking, what I see as a rare embodiment of “slow science.” In a profession where it’s easy to be swept away by the constant tide of tasks, deadlines, and metrics, Mark is my weekly reminder of the value of making space to think. Since arriving at Université de Sherbrooke, I’ve cherished the walks we’ve taken together along the trails of Mont Bellevue, where conversations about science and life unfold with ease. Like those lunch-hour strolls, his writing is not rushed, nor is it constrained by disciplinary boundaries. In Everything Evolves, he offers a conceptual framework that is both elegant and expansive: a generalized evolutionary theory that applies not only to biology, but also to culture, economics, technology, and beyond.
At the heart of the book is a metaphorical evolutionary soundboard, with four dials: variation, inheritance, movement, and differential success. These dials help us make sense of complex adaptive systems, from the distribution of sugar maple trees to the rise and fall of empires, from coral reefs to the dynamics of Coke vs. Pepsi. It’s a conceptual compass for navigating the messy, beautiful complexity of the world.
One of the more provocative ideas in Everything Evolves is Mark’s proposal to distinguish between what he calls First Science and Second Science. First Science refers to disciplines grounded in physicochemical laws, physics, chemistry, and parts of biology. Second Science, by contrast, encompasses fields that study complex adaptive systems shaped by evolutionary dynamics: ecology, economics, sociology, anthropology, and even artificial intelligence. These are systems where history, randomness, and feedback loops matter just as much as rules and equations.
Mark goes a step further and suggests that these Second Sciences deserve their own institutional home, a Faculty of Evolutionary Sciences. It’s a bold idea. Would reorganizing universities around conceptual foundations rather than traditional disciplines foster more meaningful collaboration? Could it help us break down the silos that often limit interdisciplinary thinking? Or is this just a thought experiment, a metaphorical nudge to remind us that the way we structure knowledge is itself a product of history and inertia?
Why Should Young Scientists Read This?
Because science is not just about data, it’s about ideas.
Reading books like Everything Evolves helps us:
Think across disciplines: Evolutionary principles apply to ecosystems, economies, and even AI. Seeing these connections fosters creativity and innovation.
Reflect on our role: As scientists, we’re not just technicians. We’re thinkers, interpreters, and sometimes storytellers. Books like this remind us of the bigger picture.
Embrace abstraction: Concepts like hysteresis, drift, and adaptation are not just theoretical, they shape how we understand resilience, tipping points, and change.
Challenge academic silos: Vellend’s idea of a “Second Science”, disciplines governed by evolutionary dynamics rather than physicochemical laws, invites us to rethink how universities are structured. What if we organized ourselves by conceptual kinship rather than historical convention?
Thinking Is Not a Luxury
In a world of metrics, deadlines, and publication pressure, taking time to think can feel indulgent. But it’s not. It’s essential. Reading conceptual books, especially those that blend science with philosophy, history, and personal reflection, helps us become better scientists and better humans.
In Everything Evolves, Mark doesn’t impose conclusions. He opens doors. He gives us space to ponder the role of community knowledge in innovation, the evolutionary roots of violence, and the dynamics of cooperation and competition. He even dares to ask how adaptation might apply to multiverses, not because it’s practical, but because it’s fascinating.
Final Thoughts
Everything Evolves is not just a book. It’s an invitation to think, to connect, to evolve.
For young scientists, especially those just beginning their academic journey, it’s a reminder that science is not just a career. It’s a way of seeing the world.
So read the papers. But also read the books.
Especially the ones that make you pause, reflect, and wonder.
Diriger par l’exemple et vivre selon ses valeurs : la science ouverte en action
L’un des principes qui guide mes choix quotidiens est simple : agir en accord avec mes convictions. Pour moi, cela se traduit par un engagement envers l’enseignement, le partage des connaissances, la science ouverte et l’esprit de communauté. Parfois, il est difficile de trouver le temps et l’énergie pour concrétiser ces valeurs, mais l’effort en vaut la chandelle.
Récemment, avec mon équipe de recherche, nous avons organisé et donné notre 3e atelier R/RStudio gratuit à l’Université de Sherbrooke. Pendant trois jours, une cinquantaine de participant·e·s issu·e·s de divers laboratoires et niveaux d’études se sont réuni·e·s pour apprendre, échanger et collaborer. Quatre enseignant·e·s (Sophie, Jonathan, Amy et moi) et six personnes assistant·e·s (Gaële, Maria Lucia, Ema, Alexandra, Jacob, Alexis) ont contribué bénévolement à rendre cet événement possible.
Pourquoi des ateliers gratuits ?
Dans un milieu académique où les logiciels propriétaires (comme GraphPad Prism, MATLAB ou certaines suites statistiques payantes) dominent, l’utilisation et l’enseignement des outils libres et open-source comme R reste un enjeu majeur. Le coût élevé de certains logiciels crée une barrière invisible, renforçant l’inégalité d’accès aux ressources scientifiques. Au contraire, le logiciel R/RStudio est gratuit et transparent, bâtit par et pour une immense communauté de recherche.
Pourtant, ce n’est pas une critique envers celles et ceux qui dépendent des outils payants—parfois par nécessité, parfois par habitude, parfois par culture de domaine ou de laboratoire. Mais si nous voulons une science plus transparente, reproductible et inclusive, nous devons prioriser et supporter des alternatives accessibles.
J’ai eu la piqûre du langage de programmation R en 2011, lors de ma MSc à Barcelone. Nous devions créer un modèle de simulation qui permettait à des loups et des moutons de se rencontrer (le loup mange le mouton) dans un espace fini. Depuis presque 15 ans, j’en ai fait mon outil de travail #1 (R, pas le modèle de mouton-loup). C’est facile d’oublier que nous avons toutes et tous commencé comme débutant.e lorsqu’on voit un.e utilisateur.trice expert.e coder. Cela peut donner une sensation de peur, de vertige ou d’anxiété. Et même si de nombreux tutoriels existent en ligne pour apprendre par soi-même, je constate que l’apprentissage par un atelier gratuit, local, et enseigné par des personnes qu’on connaît, qui étaient elles-mêmes débutantes il y a peu de temps, est un des meilleurs vecteurs pour l’enseignement de R.
La force de la communauté
Au-delà de l’aspect technique, ces ateliers sont une belle occasion de briser l’isolement académique. En trois jours, des étudiant·e·s, des postdocs et des chercheur·euse·s de différents labos et horizons ont pu échanger, se former et même créer des liens. Dans un environnement souvent compétitif, ces moments de partage désintéressé sont précieux.
La véritable magie de ces ateliers est entre les lignes de code.
Elle prend vie dans les discussions autour d’un café – quand une personne étudiante au PhD parle d’avoir été bloquée sur la même erreur pendant plusieurs semaines, et que soudain trois personnes répondent : “Moi aussi !” Elle est dans ce moment où un.e professeur.e demande à une personne étudiante comment debugger une ligne de code, faisant tomber les hiérarchies par la vulnérabilité partagée.
Ces moments révèlent une vérité trop souvent silencieuse : le plus grand obstacle en recherche n’est ni l’intelligence ni les ressources, mais l’isolement. On nous forme à rivaliser pour des financements, des publications, des reconnaissances, alors que les véritables avancées scientifiques naissent souvent dans l’entraide, dans ces quelques simples mots:“Voici comment j’ai résolu ce problème…”
Ce qui fait que ces ateliers sont importants ne tient pas qu’à l’apprentissage de R – c’est surtout l’incarnation d’une autre culture scientifique.
Une culture où :
Les difficultés se partagent (au lieu de se cacher)
Le savoir circule horizontalement (pas seulement du haut vers le bas)
La croissance est collective (pas un jeu à somme nulle)
Quand une personne étudiante de 1e année voit un.e postdoc de son labo commettre – et corriger – une erreur en direct, cela enseigne bien plus que du code. Cela démystifie le mythe de la personne “chercheuse parfaite” pour le remplacer par quelque chose de mieux : une communauté d’humains qui apprennent ensemble.
C’est pour cela que nous continuons ces ateliers. Pas seulement pour aider les gens à apprendre R, mais pour réaffirmer le cœur collaboratif de la science – un atelier, une conversation, un débug à la fois.“
La magie de ces ateliers ne réside donc pas seulement dans le code. Elle est dans les conversations pendant les pauses, ces questions comme ‘Comment gères-tu ce problème ?’, et dans ce soulagement quand on réalise qu’on n’est pas seul.e à rencontrer ces difficultés. Dans un système qui récompense si souvent l’individualisme, ces moments de résolution collective de problèmes sont précieux.
On constate que beaucoup d’autres personnes de notre entourage sont également en train d’apprendre, ce qui est encourageant et libérateur.
La suite
Nous donnerons de nouveau des ateliers de ce genre, probablement à l’automne 2026, parce que, même si cela nous demande temps et énergie, la science se construit ensemble, et en contribuant ainsi à notre communauté locale c’est tout le monde qui en bénéficie.
Et vous, quelles sont vos valeurs scientifiques ? Comment les incarnez-vous au quotidien ?
One principle guides my daily choices: aligning my actions with my values. For me, this means committing to teaching, open science, and community-building—even when finding the time and energy feels challenging. The effort is always worth it.
This past May, my research team and I organized and taught our 3rd free R/RStudio workshop at Université de Sherbrooke. Over three days, 50 participants from diverse labs and career stages came together to learn, problem-solve, and collaborate. Four instructors (Sophie, Jonathan, Amy, and myself) and ix volunteers (Gaële, Maria Lucia, Ema, Alexandra, Jacob, Alexis) made it possible—all donating their time freely.
Why Free? The Cost of Closed Science
Academia often runs on proprietary tools: GraphPad Prism, MATLAB, expensive statistical suites. But open-source alternatives like R remain underused, despite their potential to democratize research. High software costs create invisible barriers, deepening inequalities in scientific access. In contrast, R is free and transparent, built by and for an immense research community.
This is not a critique of those who rely on paid tools—whether out of necessity, habit, or domain or lab culture. But if we want science to be transparent, reproducible, and inclusive, we must prioritize and support accessible options.
My R Journey: From Wolves-and-Sheep to Mentorship
I fell in love with R in 2011 during my MSc in Barcelona, building a simulation where wolves and sheep interacted in a finite space (yes, the wolves ate the sheep). Over 15 years, R became my #1 tool (the language, not the predator-prey model!).
It is easy to forget we all started as beginners when watching an expert code. That learning curve can feel daunting, even anxiety-inducing. While online tutorials exist, I have found that free, local workshops—taught by people who were beginners themselves not long ago—are among the most effective ways to learn R. Familiar faces and shared struggles make all the difference.
The Power of Community
Beyond technical skills, these workshops break academic isolation. For three days, undergrads, postdocs, and PIs from different labs traded tips, laughed over errors, and built connections. In a competitive environment, these moments of genuine collaboration are rare—and healing.
The true magic of these workshops lives between the lines of code.
It sparks in those coffee-break confessions—when a PhD student admits they have been stuck on the same error for weeks, and suddenly three people chime in: “Me too!” It is in the way a professor asks a student how to debug a line of code, dissolving hierarchies through shared vulnerability.
These moments reveal a quiet truth: academia’s greatest bottleneck is not intelligence or resources—it is isolation. We are trained to compete for funding, publications, and accolades, yet the most profound breakthroughs often come from collaborations, from someone saying, “Here’s how I solved that problem.”
What makes these workshops radical is not just teaching R—it is modeling a different scientific culture. One where:
Struggles are shared (not hidden)
Knowledge flows laterally (not just top-down)
Growth is collective (not zero-sum)
When a first-year undergrad watches their lab’s postdoc make—and fix—a mistake in real time, it does more than teach syntax. It dismantles the myth of the ‘perfect researcher’ and replaces it with something better: a community of humans learning together.
That is why we keep doing this. Not just to spread R skills, but to reclaim the collaborative heart of science—one workshop, one conversation, one ‘Aha!’ moment at a time.
The magic of these workshops is not just in the code. It is in the breaktime conversations, the “How do you handle this?” questions, and the relief when someone realizes they are not alone in their struggles. In a system that often rewards individualism, these moments of collective problem-solving are radical.
Seeing peers at similar learning stages is liberating. It reminds us that we are not alone.
What’s Next?
We shall run this workshop again—likely in Fall 2026—because science grows stronger when we prioritize collective progress over individual competition. Yes, it demands time and energy. But when our local community benefits, everyone wins.
What are the core values that guide your scientific work? How do you embody them in your daily research practice?
En ce jour national pour une communauté inclusive et positive (Jour rose), je vous partage ces pensées qui m’animent:
Nous vivons une époque charnière, où la vérité semble trembler sous le poids de la violence, de l’injustice, de l’indifférence et de la désinformation. Pourtant, en tant que scientifiques, pédagogues, et citoyen.ne.s engagé.e.s, nous avons une responsabilité : celle de ne pas plier devant la facilité de la médiocrité.
Nos valeurs – vérité, transparence, équité, diversité, inclusion, accessibilité et justice – ne sont pas de simples idéaux, mais des principes concrets qui guident notre travail et notre engagement quotidien.
L’histoire a montré que le progrès naît de la résistance face à l’obscurité, face au totalitarisme, face à l’égoïsme. Nos institutions académiques et nos laboratoires sont des bastions de savoir et de rigueur, des lieux où la curiosité et la recherche de la vérité priment sur les discours populistes, les discours de la peur et les réalités altérées. En tant que chercheur.se.s, jeunes et seniors, d’hier et d’aujourd’hui, nous avons le devoir de porter haut ces valeurs, d’enseigner à la prochaine génération que la science n’est pas une opinion, mais un effort collectif vers la compréhension du monde. Cette science est un joyau qu’il faut protéger.
Refusons un avenir où la complaisance envers l’ignorance dicterait les décisions collectives.
Refusons un monde où le pouvoir se détache de la responsabilité.
La science n’a pas toujours été parfaite, mais elle demeure un outil d’émancipation et de justice : elle a permis de dévoiler des vérités cachées, de combattre des injustices et de redonner du pouvoir à celles et ceux qui en avaient été dépossédés. Il est de notre devoir de continuer ce combat.
L’avenir ne se construira pas dans l’inaction. Il appartient à celles et ceux qui osent défendre la vérité, à celles et ceux qui refusent la peur et la passivité, à celles et ceux qui bâtissent un monde où la science est respectée, où la diversité est une richesse, et où la justice n’est pas une option.
Ensemble, nous sommes une force. Ensemble, nous portons la lumière dans l’obscurité.
Ne baissons pas les bras. L’excellence, la curiosité et l’intégrité triompheront de la médiocrité. Et à ceux qui cherchent à diviser, à dévaloriser, à détruire, à tirer un avantage individuel du chaos collectif, opposons un mur inébranlable : celui du savoir, de la détermination, de la collectivité et de l’espoir.
On this National Day for an inclusive and positive community (Pink Shirt Day), I share these thoughts with you:
We live in a pivotal time, when truth seems to waver under the weight of violence, injustice, indifference, and misinformation. And yet, as scientists, educators and committed citizens, we have a responsibility not to give in to mediocrity.
Our values – truth, transparency, equity, diversity, inclusion, accessibility, and justice – are not mere ideals, but concrete principles that guide our work and our daily commitment.
History has shown that progress is born of resistance in the face of darkness, totalitarianism, and selfishness. Our academic institutions and laboratories are bastions of knowledge and rigor, places where curiosity and the search for truth take precedence over populist rhetoric, fear-mongering, and altered realities. As researchers, young and old, past and present, we have a duty to uphold these values, to teach the next generation that science is not an opinion, but a collective effort to understand the world. Science is a jewel that must be protected.
Let us reject a future where complacency towards ignorance dictates collective decisions.
Let us reject a world where power is detached from responsibility.
Science has not always been perfect, but it has been a tool for emancipation and justice: it has revealed hidden truths, fought injustice, and given power back to those who had been deprived of it. It is our duty to continue this fight.
The future cannot be built on inaction. It belongs to those who dare to defend the truth, to those who refuse fear and passivity, to those who build a world where science is respected, where diversity is an asset, and where justice is not an option.
Together, we are a force. Together, we bring light to the darkness.
Let’s not give up. Excellence, curiosity and integrity will triumph over mediocrity. And to those who seek to divide, devalue, and destroy, to make personal gains out of collective chaos, let us oppose an unshakeable wall: that of knowledge, determination, community and hope.
Funny thing is that I did not initially set out to become a microbiologist. First, I wanted to become a professional soccer player (when France won the 1998 World Cup #FabienBarthez), then a neuroscientist, and then a forest researcher. Quite the switch, no?
I guess I would say I was a “late bloomer” microbiologist. I did work with microbes during my PhD on the tree #phyllosphere, but it is really during my postdoc at the University of Calgary with Prof. Marie-Claire Arrieta that I fully grasped the complexity of microbiology beyond genomics and bioinformatics.
During this time, I cultivated aerobic and anaerobic microbes #poop, I worked with germ-free and gnotobiotic mice models, I performed metagenomics and metabolomics all the while improving my bioinformatic and statistic skills. But I still felt a bit like an imposter claiming the title of “microbiologist”.
Thus, in 2018, 1y out of my PhD, when the opportunity came to apply for a position at the Université de Sherbrooke in the microbiology section, I would not have applied if one of the faculty had not reach out to me to suggest that I should apply. I did apply. And I gave it my all thinking this interview would serve as a practice to learn from the process and that, one day, I would get a job as a professor #dream. But, to my surprise, I actually got the position.
It is intriguing to wonder where would I be had this person not reached out to me.
Add in a 1y maternity leave, a pandemic, and we land in 2022 in Guelph when I went to my 1st in person CSM meeting, thanks to an invitation by Prof. Kari Dunfield (UofGuelph). I did not know many people, it was intimidating. Even as a PI, and an extrovert, I felt out of place and alone often. Yet, people were kind and welcoming, and I slowly made connections and got more comfortable. I also witnessed my colleagues contributing to the CSM. Prof. JP Côté (UdeS) co-chaired the Infections & Immunity section. Prof. Edel Perez-Lopez (ULaval) captained the Educational committee. Prof. Pascale Beauregard (UdeS) became President of the society, hat ceremony and all. And I looked up to them and their leadership roles. Last year (2023) in Halifax, I witnessed the same warmth and camaraderie when Pascale passed the hat to our actual President, Kari. The atmosphere at CSM conferences, each year, makes me want to come back and give back to the society.
This is why I am most proud to receive this early-career award, although this is potentially the most nerve-racking talk that I have ever given (yes, giving talks is still stressful, I am just better at dealing with it). Although I did receive the Canadian Society of Ecology and Evolution (CSEE) early-Career award in 2021, the conference was remote that year #covid and the plenary that I was supposed to give ended up being a pre-recorded talk that was shared online. Since I am no #Huberman, I do not believe this talk got much of an audience… Also, it was not quite the same experience as having to show, in front of a full room, your scientific accomplishments. So, I am most grateful today to get this opportunity at the CSM.
My young (can I still say that?) career has focussed on “microbial ecology” as a discipline. I have created my research niche at the intersection of microbiology, ecology, genomics, bioinformatics, and statistics, using both plants and humans as host systems. This year’s CSM conference theme “Microbiology in the Forest City” is one that I relate most too. Using an approach involving in natura, greenhouse, and laboratory-based experiments, my research focuses on host-microbe interactions in natural (e.g., forests) and urban (e.g., cities) environments, using a community ecology perspective to improve our understanding of complex microbial communities and of their roles for host and ecosystem functions.
Microbiology in the Forest City #CSM2024’s theme (image created with OpenAI)
From my very humble standpoint, I believe that the best years of microbial ecology are yet to come, with still much potential for improving our methodologies (both in dry and wet labs) and adapting (macro)ecological theories to microbial communities. There are so many open questions to be answered with manipulating small synthetic microbial communities, playing around with directed evolution, getting better at using adequately our stats and bioinformatic software, knowing better our strains including the most well known such as E. coli, and their interactions with other microbes, assembling more genomes, improving our reference databases, etc.
Like Prof. Vincent Young said at the opening ceremony: “This is not rocket science. This is microbiology, it is hard!”. And I would add it is worth our while. The future of microbial ecology is rich in challenges but also promising, and much is yet to be done.
As I wrap-up my first 5y as a prof, I feel like I answered my 1st big question: “Will I be able to do this job?” Yes. So, now, what is the next big question? Well, watching the impressive number of undergraduates, MSc, PhD, and postdocs raise their hands at the CSM opening ceremony, it made me want to keep making academia a positive, respectful, and rich experience for others. So maybe my next question is “How can I make a difference in this scientific/academic environment beyond my own lab?” Today, this talk is a step in that direction.
I did not fathom that I would be so privileged to end up here today, but I did not get here alone. As I tried to show with this post, not much is necessary to positively and massively change the course of an individual’s career: an invite, an email, a suggestion. This is why I want to finish this text by highlighting the outstanding support that I have found in the scientific community: the students in the Laforest lab, my mentors through the years (Mark, Fanie, Jordi, Javi, Claire, Steve, & Christian), the generous arm-length researchers who agree to write reference letters (ex: Julia, Steven, Étienne, Jesse, & Richard), colleagues at the Université de Sherbrooke Biology department (all of you!), but also generally in the Canadian university network and abroad.
Thank you all for these wonderful years and I am looking forward to continuing to enjoy my passion alongside you guys!
Cette année (2024), j’ai le privilège de recevoir le prix #ThermoFisher de la Société Canadienne des Microbiologistes (SCM). Ce qui peut sembler surprenant, c’est que devenir une microbiologiste n’est pas apparu sur mon radar rapidement. Je voulais d’abord devenir une joueuse de soccer professionnel (lorsque la France a remporté la Coupe du monde en 1998 #FabienBarthez), puis neuroscientifique, et enfin chercheure en foresterie. Pas facile de choisir…
Même si j’ai travaillé avec des microbes pendant tout mon doctorat sur la #phyllosphère des arbres, c’est plutôt durant mon postdoc à l’Université de Calgary dans le laboratoire de la Prof. Marie-Claire Arrieta que j’ai réalisé l’ampleur de la complexité de la microbiologie au-delà de la génomique et de la bio-informatique.
Pendant ce postdoc, j’ai cultivé des microbes aérobes et anaérobes #caca, j’ai travaillé avec des souris axéniques, j’ai fait de la métagénomique et de la métabolomique tout en améliorant mes compétences en bio-informatique et en statistique. Mais je me sentais toujours un peu comme une imposteure en revendiquant le titre de “microbiologiste”.
En 2018, à peine un an après la fin de mon PhD, lorsque l’occasion s’est présentée de postuler à un poste de prof à l’Université de Sherbrooke dans la section de microbiologie, je n’aurais pas appliqué si un des profs du département ne m’avait pas suggéré d’envoyer mon cv. J’ai postulé. Et j’ai donné le meilleur de moi-même à l’entrevue en pensant que cette expérience me permettrait d’apprendre du processus et qu’un jour, j’obtiendrais un poste de professeure #lerêve. À ma grande surprise, j’ai obtenu le poste.
C’est étrange de penser où je serais présentement si cette personne ne m’avait pas contactée.
Après un congé de maternité d’un an, une pandémie, j’arrive en juin 2022 à Guelph, pour mon premier colloque annuel de la SCM en personne suite à une invitation de la Prof. Kari Dunfield (UofGuelph). Je connaissais peu de personnes, c’était assez intimidant. Même en tant que professeure et personne extrovertie, je ne me sentais souvent pas tout à fait à ma place. Pourtant, les gens étaient gentils et accueillants, et j’ai peu à peu noué des liens et me suis alors sentie plus à l’aise. J’ai aussi été impressionnée de constater l’implication de mes collègues microbiologistes dans la société. Prof. JP Côté (UdeS) était le co-responsable de la section Infections & Immunité. Prof. Edel Perez-Lopez (ULaval) menait le comité d’éducation. Prof. Pascale Beauregard (UdeS) est devenue présidente de la société lors d’une intrigante cérémonie des chapeaux. J’étais fière de leur engagement et leur leadership pour la SCM. En 2023 à Halifax, j’ai été témoin de la même chaleur et camaraderie lorsque Pascale a passé le « chapeau » à notre présidente actuelle, Kari. L’atmosphère qui règne aux conférence de la SCM, chaque année, me donne envie de revenir et de redonner à la société.
C’est pourquoi je suis extrêmement fière de recevoir le prix #ThermoFisher, même s’il s’agit potentiellement de la conférence la plus stressante que j’aie jamais eu à donner (oui oui, c’est toujours stressant de présenter même étant PI, mais j’arrive mieux à le gérer). Bien que j’aie reçu le prix de début de carrière de la Société canadienne d’écologie et d’évolution (SCEE) en 2021, la conférence était en ligne #covid et la séance plénière que j’étais censé donner a pris la forme d’une vidéo préenregistrée partagée en ligne. Je ne suis pas #Huberman et donc je ne crois pas que cette conférence ait eu beaucoup de visionnement. De plus, ce n’était pas tout à fait la même expérience que d’avoir à expliquer, devant une salle pleine, ses réalisations scientifiques. Je suis donc très reconnaissante d’avoir cette opportunité à la SCM cette année.
Ma jeune carrière (quand est-ce qu’on doit arrêter de dire ça?) s’est concentrée sur l'”écologie microbienne” en tant que discipline. J’ai créé mon créneau de recherche à l’intersection de la microbiologie, de l’écologie, de la génomique, de la bio-informatique et des statistiques, en utilisant à la fois les plantes et les humains comme systèmes hôtes. “La microbiologie dans la ville forêt” est un thème qui me rejoint directement. En utilisant une approche impliquant des expériences in natura, en serre et en laboratoire, mes recherches se concentrent sur les interactions hôte-microbe dans les environnements naturels (ex: les forêts) et urbains (ex: les villes), en utilisant une perspective d’écologie des communautés afin d’améliorer notre compréhension des communautés microbiennes et de leurs rôles pour les fonctions de l’hôte et de l’écosystème.
La microbiologie dans la ville forêt #SCM2024 (image créée avec OpenAI)
De mon humble point de vue, je pense que les meilleures années du domaine de l’écologie microbienne sont encore à venir. Il y a un potentiel incroyable pour améliorer nos méthodes (à la fois en labo et du côté computationnel) et adapter les théories (macro)écologiques aux communautés microbiennes. Il y a tant de questions ouvertes auxquelles on peut répondre en utilisant des communautés microbiennes synthétiques simplifiées, en utilisant l’évolution dirigée, en améliorant notre utilisation des stats et de nos logiciels de bioinfo, en connaissant mieux nos souches et leurs interactions avec d’autres microbes, même les mieux connues comme E. coli, en assemblant plus de génomes, en améliorant nos bases de données de références, etc. Comme l’a dit le professeur Vincent Young lors de la cérémonie d’ouverture de la conférence de cette année, « Ce n’est pas de la science exacte. C’est de la microbiologie, et c’est difficile! » Mais je crois que ça vaut définitivement nos efforts. L’avenir de l’écologie microbienne est riche en défis, mais aussi prometteur, et il reste encore beaucoup à faire.
Alors que je termine mes 5 premières années en tant que professeure, j’ai l’impression d’avoir répondu à ma 1ère grande question : “Est-ce que je suis capable d’être prof?” Oui. Alors, quelle est la prochaine grande question? En voyant le nombre impressionnant de personnes étudiantes au BSc, MSc, Phd et postdoc lever la main lors de la cérémonie d’ouverture de la SCM, j’ai eu envie de continuer à faire du monde universitaire une expérience positive, respectueuse et riche. Alors peut-être que ma prochaine question est “Comment puis-je faire une différence positive dans cet environnement scientifique/académique au-delà de mon propre labo?” Aujourd’hui, ma conférence à la SCM est un pas dans cette direction.
Je n’ai jamais imaginé que j’aurais le privilège de me retrouver ici aujourd’hui, mais je n’y suis pas arrivée seule. Ça ne prend pas grand-chose pour influencer positivement et drastiquement la carrière d’une personne: une invitation, un email, une suggestion. C’est pourquoi je veux terminer ce texte en soulignant le soutien exceptionnel que j’ai reçu de la communauté scientifique: chez les personnes étudiantes du labo Laforest, mes mentors (Mark, Fanie, Jordi, Javi, Claire, Steve, & Christian), les généreuses personnes qui acceptent d’écrire des lettres de références (ex: Julia, Steven, Étienne, Jesse, & Richard), les collègues du département de biologie de l’Université de Sherbrooke (vous tous!), mais aussi de façon générale dans le réseau universitaire canadien et à l’étranger.
Merci à toutes et à tous pour ces merveilleuses années et je me réjouis de continuer à vivre ma passion à vos côtés!
September has always been my favourite month of the year (and this is a big statement if you know how much I LOVE Christmas ^^). The light is so crisp, I celebrate gaining an extra year on my life curriculum, and it is time for school to start again. Even if I am no longer a student coming back to school, I enjoy the electric atmosphere on campus. For students, attending university is defined by hope: hope of a future job that will provide safety and meaning; hope to improve their financial conditions; hope to meet new friends and find interesting interactions with colleagues. As a professor, witnessing the excitement of students embarking on, continuing, or even celebrating the end of their educational journey is a reminder of the enduring magic of academia. Of note, this year I celebrated the graduation of 5 MSc students trained in my lab: big congrats to J. Chamard, G. Lajeunesse, L. Blais, K. Gisèle Mac Si Hone, and S. Ishak! #USherbrooke
From left to right, S. Ishak, I. Laforest-Lapointe, and K. Gisèle Mac Si Hone at S.’s and K.’s graduation
On the other hand, for professors, it is often madness. Even if we prepare and plan ahead during our summer “vacations” (during which we manage a lab, write scientific articles, prepare grant applications to name a few, you know, just the usual), we seem to always end up in a frenzy when the deadlines roll in (wisely [LOL] all scattered across September and October, including the students’ scholarship deadlines). Yet, amidst the craziness of formatting our documents twice 2n to fit all granting institutions (n) portals (which, funny enough, don’t have the same formatting guidelines; the system in place unfortunately pushes us to spend countless hours following crazy counterintuitive guidelines rather than doing research), I always feel like September is a time to reflect on and celebrate my academic journey. This year is my 17thBack to School season at university, 4th as a professor (if you count COVID 2020). It might seem meaningless, a bit beige at some point, but I try to make it special every year. Not with new clothes or a shiny unicorn backpack. This year, I organized my first lab retreat.
Organizing a First Lab Retreat
Structuring a research team around a shared vision is both a joy and a challenge. I had been thinking for a while about planning a lab retreat. Which activities to choose? Where to go? What were my objectives? To fit all my ideas in one retreat would have needed one month ^^. But one thing I firmly believed in was that I wanted to nurture an environment of collaboration, open dialogue, and mutual respect in the hope that shared positive memories would provide my students with a collective vision for the Laforest-Lapointe lab, and… a sense of belonging.
With the support from our formidable lab research professional, we organized the following activities in this order:
A hike with a mindfulness pause at the summit
An ice-breaking activity: define yourself by a food, a song, and a fiction character
A surprise creative and tech activity lead by a PhD student in our lab on a fictive future without microbes
A presentation on How to thrive and stay healthy during your studies and your career based on Hugh Kearns’ 52 ways to stay well
An impro session to practice speaking in front of others
A time for moving around
A scientific trivia created by AI
A review exercise in which each person provided constructive feedback on three of the paragraphs written by their peers in Activity #3
A workshop on how to use AI ethically in academia: for writing and for coding
A post-mortem: what worked well and what can we improve for the next retreat
Like you foresaw, we couldn’t do all of them and had to postpone some activities. But we were successful in completing nine out of the eleven planned. As a mentor, there was much joy in witnessing diverse minds come together, each contributing their unique perspective to the discussion, and each committing themselves to learn and improve. I know that this year, like any other year, will provide its share of challenges to each and everyone. I hope that through effective communication and shared goals, our team will flourish, providing the key backbone to support everyone’s meaningful strides in their unique academic journey at a critical time in their life.
View from the 2023 retreat.
Mentoring Twenty (and Thirty)-Somethings
As I gain experience (meaning years), I become more and more aware that mentoring students in their twenties (and early thirties) is a profound responsibility. These years are a crucial period in their lives, where they shape their future (see The defining decade by Meg Jay). Academia often feels magical as we are privileged to interact with a diverse set of humans, from all around the world, that are (at least most of the time) curious, educated, hopeful, motivated, and respectful. But academia can also be a very negative environment in which you can feel imposter syndrome, publish or perish, the anxiety of being scooped, the doom of comparison to your peers, and more. As a mentor, my job is to offer guidance, support, and a safe space for them to explore their aspirations. My role is not only to impart knowledge but also to help them navigate the choices offered to them and to provide guidance even after they depart my lab. Just as I can still (and do) rely on support from my own mentors. As I am entering the end of my first quinquennial 2020-2025 plan (dixit my role model and dad ^^), I want to be a mentor who not only teaches subject matter but also instills values, resilience, and a passion for learning and work ethics.
A Final Word on the Urgency for Increased Scholarships in Canada
In direct relationship with supporting trainees in my lab, I want to highlight how crazy, irrational, outrageous it is that Canada hasn’t increased Graduate Scholarships by 1$ for more than 20 years. Yes, Canada’s commitment to access to health, democracy, and education is admirable. But the stagnation of scholarship amounts for the past two decades is beyond a pressing concern. We are leaking scholars. We struggle to convince trainees from abroad to study in Canada because of the ridiculous scholarships. And even more ironic, while institutions are urged to enhance inclusivity and innovation through IDEA (Inclusion, Diversity, Equity, and Accessibility) programs, we cannot provide our trainees with sufficient funding to live above poverty line. What a mockery it is that the government pushes for these initiatives while failing to adequately support students financially. It is time for the federal government to recognize the urgency of increasing scholarship amounts to ensure that students can pursue their dreams without being burdened by financial constraints. If we have enough money to buy a nonsensical and doomed pipeline, don’t we have enough funds to support the future of our country? Let’s hope that Canada gets inspired by the Fonds de Recherche du Québec which increased in 2023 the scholarships to $25K (PhD) and $20K (MSc) compared to Canada’s Tri-council $20K (PhD) and $17.5K (MSc). The same amount Justin Trudeau earned in 2006, as an MSc student in geography at McGill. What a pity.
#SupportOurScience
The Laforest-Lapointe lab at summit (plus two members missing, but for good reasons, not lost in the woods!)
Des célébrations au mentorat
Célébrer les étapes au-delà de la vie étudiante
Septembre a toujours été mon mois préféré de l’année (et ce n’est pas peu dire quand on sait à quel point j’ADORE Noël ^^). La lumière est si belle, je célèbre le gain d’une année supplémentaire dans mon cursus de vie, et c’est la rentrée! Même si je ne suis plus une étudiante qui entame une nouvelle année scolaire, j’aime sentir l’atmosphère électrique du campus. Pour les personnes étudiantes, aller à l’université est défini par l’espoir : l’espoir d’un futur emploi qui apportera sécurité et sens; l’espoir d’améliorer leurs conditions financières ; l’espoir de rencontrer de nouveaux amis et de vivre des interactions intéressantes avec leurs collègues. En tant que professeure, être témoin de cet émoi académique est un rappel de la magie renouvelée du monde universitaire. Cette année, cinq personnes étudiantes issues de mon labo ont gradué: félicitations à J. Chamard, G. Lajeunesse, L. Blais, K. Gisèle Mac Si Hone, et S. Ishak! #USherbrooke
De gauche à droite: S. Ishak, I. Laforest-Lapointe, et K. Gisèle Mac Si Hone à la graduation de S. et K.
D’un autre côté, pour le corps professoral, c’est souvent la folie. Même si nous nous préparons et planifions à l’avance pendant nos “vacances” d’été (pendant lesquelles nous gérons un laboratoire, écrivons des articles scientifiques, préparons des demandes de subvention, pour ne citer que quelques tâches), il semble que nous finissons toujours par avoir la langue à terre lorsque les dates de remises arrivent (intelligemment [LOL] dispersées en septembre et octobre).
Pourtant, au milieu cette folie de formatage de documents au moins deux 2n fois pour les adapter aux portails de tous les (n) établissements subventionnaires (qui n’ont, bien sûr, pas les mêmes directives; la lourdeur du système mis en place mène d’ailleurs les chercheur.e.s à passer d’innombrables heures à suivre des directives contre-intuitives plutôt qu’à faire de la recherche), je garde tout de même l’impression que septembre est un moment privilégié pour réfléchir à mon parcours académique. Cette année, c’est ma 17e rentrée universitaire, ma 4e en tant que professeure (si l’on compte l’an fatidique COVID 2020). Cette rentrée peut sembler insignifiante, voire même un peu beige, mais je tente de la rendre spéciale chaque année. Pas avec de nouveaux vêtements ou un sac à dos de licorne multicolore. Cette année, j’ai organisé ma première retraite de laboratoire.
Organiser une première retraite de labo
Structurer une équipe de recherche autour d’une vision commune est à la fois une joie et un défi. Cela faisait un moment que j’envisageais d’organiser une retraite de labo. Quelles activités choisir? Où aller? Quels seraient mes objectifs? Pour faire tenir toutes mes idées en une seule retraite, il m’aurait fallu un mois ^^. Mais une chose à laquelle je croyais fermement était que je voulais créer un environnement de collaboration, de dialogue ouvert et de respect mutuel dans l’espoir que les souvenirs positifs partagés fourniraient à mes personnes étudiantes une vision collective pour le laboratoire Laforest-Lapointe, et… un sentiment d’appartenance.
Avec le soutien de notre formidable professionnelle de la recherche, nous avons organisé les activités suivantes dans cet ordre:
Une randonnée avec une pause de pleine conscience au sommet
Une activité brise-glace : se définir par un plat, une chanson et un personnage de fiction
Une activité créative et techno surprise menée par une doctorante de notre laboratoire sur un futur fictif sans microbes
Une présentation sur les stratégies à adopter pour s’épanouir et rester en bonne santé pendant nos études et notre carrière, basée sur Hugh Kearns’ 52 ways to stay well
Une session d’improvisation pour s’entraîner à parler devant les autres
Un temps pour bouger
Un trivia scientifique créé par IA
Un exercice de révision dans lequel chaque personne fournit un retour constructif sur trois des paragraphes écrits par leurs pairs dans l’activité #3
Un atelier sur l’utilisation éthique des IA dans le milieu universitaire : pour l’écriture et pour le codage
Un post-mortem de la retraite : ce qui a bien fonctionné et ce que nous pouvons améliorer
Comme vous l’aviez prévu, nous n’avons pas pu tout faire et avons reporté certaines activités. Mais nous avons réussi à réaliser neuf des onze prévues. En tant que mentore, j’ai éprouvé beaucoup de joie à voir des esprits différents se réunir, chacune et chacun apportant son point de vue unique à la discussion et s’engageant à faire apprendre et à s’améliorer. Je sais que cette année, comme toutes les autres, apportera son lot de défis à tous et chacun. J’espère que, grâce à une communication efficace et à des objectifs communs, notre équipe s’épanouira et fournira la structure nécessaire pour soutenir les progrès significatifs de chaque personne dans son parcours académique unique, à un moment critique de sa vie.
Vue de la retraite de 2023.
Le mentorat des jeunes de vingt (et trente) ans
Au fur et à mesure que j’acquiers de l’expérience (c’est-à-dire des années), je suis de plus en plus consciente que l’encadrement de personnes étudiantes dans la vingtaine (et au début de la trentaine) est une responsabilité importante. Ces années constituent une période cruciale de leur vie, au cours de laquelle ils façonnent leur avenir (voir The defining decade de Meg Jay). Le monde universitaire est souvent magique, car nous avons le privilège d’interagir avec un ensemble diversifié d’êtres humains, venus du monde entier, qui sont (du moins la plupart du temps) curieux, instruits, pleins d’espoir, motivés et respectueux. Mais le monde universitaire peut aussi être un environnement très négatif où l’on peut ressentir le syndrome de l’imposteur, publier ou périr, l’anxiété de se faire scooper, le malheur de la comparaison avec ses pairs, et bien d’autres encore. En tant que mentore, mon rôle est d’offrir des conseils, un soutien et un espace sûr pour permettre à chaque personne d’explorer leurs aspirations. Mon rôle n’est pas seulement de transmettre des connaissances, mais aussi de les aider à s’orienter dans les choix qui leur sont proposés et de les guider même après qu’elles/ils aient quitté mon laboratoire. Tout comme je peux d’ailleurs compter sur le soutien de mes propres mentors. Alors que j’arrive à la fin de mon premier plan quinquennal 2020-2025 (dixit mon modèle et mon père ^^), je veux être une mentore qui ne se contente pas d’enseigner la matière, mais qui inculque aussi des valeurs, de la résilience et une passion pour l’apprentissage et l’éthique du travail.
Un dernier mot sur l’urgence d’augmenter les bourses d’études au Canada
En relation directe avec le soutien aux personnes étudiantes de mon laboratoire, je tiens à souligner à quel point il est insensé, ridicule, enrageant que le Canada n’ait pas augmenté les bourses d’études supérieures de 1$ depuis plus de 20 ans. Oui, l’engagement du Canada en faveur de l’accès à la santé, à la démocratie et à l’éducation est admirable. Mais la stagnation du montant des bourses d’études au cours des deux dernières décennies est plus que préoccupante. Nous sommes un des seuls pays du G7 qui a perdu des universitaires dans les 10 dernières années. Nous avons du mal à convaincre les personnes étudiantes de pays développés d’étudier au Canada en raison du montant ridicule des bourses. Plus ironique encore, alors que les institutions sont invitées à favoriser l’accessibilité, l’équité, la diversité et l’inclusion (EDI), nous ne sommes même pas en mesure de fournir à nos personnes étudiantes un financement suffisant pour leur permettre de vivre au-dessus du seuil de pauvreté. Quelle ironie que le gouvernement s’éperdue à forcer les institutions à atteindre toutes sortes de quotas selon les guides EDI alors qu’il ne soutient pas les personnes étudiantes de manière adéquate sur le plan financier. Il est grand temps que le gouvernement fédéral reconnaisse l’urgence d’augmenter le montant des bourses afin que les personnes étudiantes puissent enfin poursuivre leurs rêves sans être accablés par des contraintes financières. Si nous avons assez d’argent pour acheter un pipeline absurde et voué à l’obsolescence, n’en avons-nous pas assez pour soutenir l’avenir de notre pays? Espérons que le Canada s’inspirera des Fonds de Recherche du Québec qui a augmenté en 2023 les bourses à 25K$ (PhD) et 20K$ (MSc). En comparaison celles du Tri-conseil du Canada sont de 20K$ (PhD) et 17,5K$ (MSc), le même montant que Justin Trudeau a gagné en 2006, alors qu’il était étudiant en géographie à McGill. Quel dommage…
#SupportonsNotreScience
Le labo Laforest-Lapointe au sommet (quelques personnes sont manquantes mais pas perdues dans la forêt!)
I am writing to you from Antwerp, Belgium, where I have officially attended my first PhD defense in person as external jury member, invited by my colleague, Prof Sarah Lebeer. After becoming a prof during a worldwide pandemic, it is very nice to be attending these kind of events in person and getting to meet stellar researchers from all over the world. I am very grateful to have these privileges, but also to work alongside wonderful trainees in the Laforest lab (go check our instagram to see their outstanding outreach initiatives) who are inspirational and motivated.
But oh boy, I feel like my work honeymoon phase is now out the window. I have officially entered the terrible three, the âge ingrât (or is it the sagesse?) of being a professor. I am over-solicited, I naively said “yes” to way too many things, and I am discovering the joy (kidding) of having to be the bad cop to make things advance, all simultaneously. Even my browser and Instagram account keep showing me publicities on avoiding “burn outs”… Rejoice people, not all hope is gone, I am also learning to say “no”. Yes, I mean, NO! (this is going to take some practice), I can use this word too and discover the fun in letting go of (some of) the additional unrealistic and unhealthy burden.
I am sorry if I said or say “no” to this amazing opportunity, because I have reached my limit. I can’t perform that extra manuscript review weekly, participate to these additional grant panels that only include six 20-page applications (only a few hours each you know), mentor this extra student, present on the importance of networking to graduate students, volunteer to be the NSERC representative for EDI, write this text on science accessibility, etc. Did my job come with the possibility to have a clone? Because it seems I should be two or three humans to do all of it in a normal 40-hour work week… I have reached a limit where if I continue taking on responsibilities, I will lose part of the fire that drives me, and the love of my profession.
Context. As a “young” or “early-career” PI (I defended my PhD in April 2017 and started my position as a professor in January 2020, after one year of mat leave), I have faced many challenges when starting my own busy, diverse, and wonderful research group (see chart below inspired by Janet Hill’s twitter post). Though I love my job and my team, one of the biggest challenges that I have faced in the last three years is learning to say no (really what is this word? ^-^). I have found it difficult to turn down exciting/intriguing opportunities, new collaborations, or requests for my time and expertise that could advance my career or make a positive difference in the life of others.
#1 Scientific FOMO is a real thing. As a young researcher, I feel the pressure to say yes to many things to build my reputation and establish myself in the field, and of course eventually be tenured.
#2 I can’t escape from the desire to please others and be seen as a team player. I have been hesitant to say no to requests from colleagues, collaborators, or students because I did not want to disappoint them. Even as a PI, I still live with the imposter syndrome. Am I really good enough to succeed in this job? Also, you never know which opportunity will lead to an outstanding breakthrough. So, the more the merrier?
#3 The sheer volume of requests that young PIs receive is crazy. Once my own research funding was secured, I became inundated with requests for grant reviews (e.g.,this year I received six petitions to review NSERC DG grants over my end-of-the-year holidays from three different panels), manuscript reviews (e.g., I receive ~5 per months), invitations to speak at conferences (e.g., I gave ~30 conferences since 2020) or to participate in committees (e.g., I sit on three executive committees, two institutional EDI committees, and many more). And all these commitments to service end up taking SO much of my time. The better you are at service in Science, the more requests you get. One can wonder, should I strategically do a poor job to have time to produce high-quality research?
About women in Science. Oh yeah, I forgot something, something big. This is no surprise to anyone (well I hope so in 2023) but women professors in academia face an added burden when learning to say no. Studies have shown that women are often expected to take on more service and mentorship roles, which can lead to higher levels of burnout and stress. In addition, we may also face implicit biases and expectations that we should be more collaborative and accommodating, making it difficult to assert our boundaries and say no. And also, we often feel the need to demonstrate that we did not get this position as a favor because, you know, “we need more women in Science”, but because we are great at what we do. Having at least one woman on every freaking committee, ensuring that women students are mentored adequately, having women as leaders, etc. The list is long. We are on our way to a more inclusive and equitable academic community for all, sure, but there is still a long way to go. Especially as we see a rising uproar against the oh-so-difficult EDI requirements…
Result. At times, even more during teaching semesters, I have been flirting with the limit of a non-healthy work-life balance, which then has taken away part of the joy I feel in my work. So, I started this year with a newfound goal: saying no to protect my time and energy. But how?
One eye-opening moment happened when I petitioned for an accelerated tenure, feeling I had demonstrated to my institution that I have gone above and beyond to reach excellence in teaching, research, as well as in services to the University and to my community. The negative answer that I received made me realize that part of my effort was not being recognized, and that I was maybe doing a “little” bit too much.
So, I went back to the drawing board and reflected on my five-year plan (2020-2025):
What are my goals for the next two years?
Which commitments, projects, and activities are the most important to me?
I need to say yes to the opportunities that align with my goals and accept that I will say no to other opportunities, even if they sound good, even if the scientific community would benefit from my input, for I am no superhuman.
How to build the yes/no compass? Starting from now (this is like a contract with myself), I will say no. I will be clear with others about my limits. I will explain that I am unable to take on a particular task due to other commitments or time constraints. I shall be clear, respectful, and professional in my communication, but also firm in my decision. I will ask myself: does this task help me reach my goals? If not, I shall say no.
About mental hygiene. Mental hygiene is a crucial aspect of life in general. As a prof, sometimes the demands can be overwhelming, and it is important to prioritize self-care and seek support when needed. Here are the strategies that I use to (try to) protect my mental health: exercise (sitting is the new smoking), mindfulness practices (time to think and slow down), rely on friends and mentors to discuss difficulties and brainstorm solutions, as well as use the access to professional help before it is needed. It is also important to establish boundaries and set realistic expectations for myself, recognizing that it is okay to say no to opportunities that may add unnecessary stress or workload.
Final words. Amidst the challenges of being a young PI, I focus on why I entered academia in the first place. Conducting useful and innovative research, mentoring the next generation of scholars (I am so very grateful for the people in my lab, their courage and curiosity impress me), and contributing to the academic community motivate me in my work. I hope that by prioritizing the projects and activities that align with my values and goals, I can find meaning and fulfillment. I know that learning how to say no is a skill that takes time and practice. I plan to stick with this job for many years, while also being able to enjoy life!
In academia, becoming a good leader or an apt mentor is a skill most often acquired through work and life experiences. Few professors/researchers receive real training on how to manage human resources, how to resolve conflicts, how to rally a community around shared values and vision, or how to create a healthy work environment. Instead, we are trained and selected for research excellence and teaching/communication skills (to a varying degree) but land in a job where we will mostly manage a SME, spending way more time doing administration and human resource management than research. Yet, professors frequently have to write lengthy documents on why and how they will act as champions in Equity/Diversity/Inclusion, mental health and excellence for their trainees, as if we had all the extra resources in the world or could clone ourselves three times. Most of us can’t afford to hire multiple research associates / lab managers to help us create the perfect unbiased benevolent lab team and culture, but there are small/short-time actions that we can do to support our trainees’ development.
In our labs, trainees are young (and not so young) adults working together. In the 20’s-30’s life gets busy with them: moves, relationships, identity definition, health and family issues, financial precariousness, etc. Topping these situations, in the lab, they often develop friendships and antagonisms, face challenges and envy, have different culture, personalities or work strategies, which can result in tensions. As a PI, it is easy to turn a blind eye and not get involved, you know, we are already so busy with our committees, form filling, grants’ writing, emails (!!!). But we can, and probably must, for our own sake, contribute to give our trainees the skills to become positive leaders in order to maintain a healthy work environment.
As a young prof managing a young lab, this train of thoughts occupied my mind lately. I proposed to my lab to do an atelier on leadership (inspired by https://www.sessionlab.com/methods/leadership-envelopes) to work towards improving ourselves as mentors and leaders. Five strengths were chosen because they are believed to be important for positive leadership and mentorship.
Here is a summary of the discussion on the topic that ensued:
#1 Emotional intelligence
This one is mitigated. To manage a group of human requires to be able to sense the individual and collective mood: is it tense? is it collaborative? does someone need help? do I need to act to modify a behaviour? when should I be the good cop or the bad cop? Having a strong emotional intelligence is very helpful yet, it is very costly, personally. I have to remind myself to draw the line and limit the impact of my work on my personal life. This is a constant struggle, a balance to be found.
#2 Active listening
How many times are we not really listening but preparing an answer? Human communication is plagued by perception mistakes, loss in translation, and silent / body language cues. An active listener does not need to talk a lot, to dominate the discussion, but is able to identify the key messages and modulate a response accordingly.
#3 Model the way
Most of us don’t see ourselves as leaders. Impostor syndrome is rampant in academia and contributes to undermine the self-confidence to take initiatives and assume novel ideas. Leadership is not limited to specific job positions or to our work environment, it comes with all our actions. Self-deprecation is probably the more common negative leadership action that we all take part in and probably one of the easiest to fix.
#4 The three sieves
This one is fairly famous and broad in application, especially important in Homo sapiens‘ interactions. Is the comment or fact you are saying true? (as in did you witness it personally?) Is it positive? And is it useful? If you can’t answer positively to all these questions, you should keep it to yourself.
#5 Inspire a shared vision
From my long two years and almost seven months in this position (^^), I have the feeling that the next generation of researchers needs to see their values align with their research subject and work environment. Amidst the great many challenges of the 2020s, accelerating global change, disruption of democracies by war and far-right movements, loss of important rights for women (just to name a few), the youth are thirsty to spend their time and energy to make a difference in a safe and fertile work environment. When we as professors successfully align our research vision of excellence and ethics with our trainees’, we give our group an extra layer of determination and intention.
So, in summary, it was a nice experiment that we will repeat and try with different topics. And in your opinion, what are the skills of a positive leader?
No, I am not talking of two years of pandemic, but two years of holding the position of Assistant professor at the Université de Sherbrooke (UDS).
As I struggle with making sure to eat during some days (time flies it’s maddening), I have also struggled to find time for writing blog posts. Balance in this job is easy to forget and difficult to achieve especially before tenure. I do have given myself the goal to take at least half an hour of break per day to move or relax, take five deep breaths, and remember to have fun. Here, I would like to share some of my thoughts on the challenges of the last two years of starting my own lab.
In the lab, I now have 10+ amazing humans from diverse backgrounds and of varied interests. The first wave of recruitment of lab members came with a higher demand of time for me. It felt like I wanted to set the tone quickly: what type of PI am I? what are my priorities? how do I support adequately my group to perform well accounting for their individual aspirations, capacities, needs, and challenges? Having no senior members in the lab meant all queries and initiatives came directly to and from me. It felt like a forced brain expansion, and each time the lab has grown or more funding came in, I felt another push for more brain capacity. My multitasking skills, as well as strategy of prioritizing and time management have been put to the test. Learning to say no is another skill I am working on. But email management takes the gold medal of challenges. Somebody told me I needed to use the five Ds to succeed in managing my emails:
Deny: junk mail, not interested, no important information.
Deflect: if someone asks you to do something, asks for more info or a first draft.
Delegate: it doesn’t have to be all you doing all the work.
Delay: no need to answer right now.
Do: do it now, and keep answer short and clear. 5-line email rules.
After two years, I am starting to have senior members (e.g., finishing students, a postdoc, a lab professional) so that some of the burden is off my shoulders. But, I do have more to do in terms of supporting projects that are at multiple different stages.
In addition, I have been confronted with situations that tested my ability to communicate, my patience, my diplomacy, my gros bon sens as we would say in French. Sometimes I have been frustrated by the status quo or lack of organization of the system. But most of the time, the experience has been incredibly exciting, motivating, and amazing. Especially teaching undergraduates, what a pleasure but I can’t believe how many times I have to repeat things, things that I say in the recorded classes, things that are in the Plan de cours, things that are on the forum and sent by emails. Drives me crazy… Another good piece of advice to be a good prof was the four Cs:
Clarity: say what you mean clearly.
Concision: say what you mean simply/shortly.
Coherence: be prepared and be coherent in your design and actions.
Confidence: show confidence even and especially when it is lacking.
Sometimes I struggle to put my limit, where is it enough for me to give to my job, which is also my passion. As in most experiences of my not-so-long life, the most mesmerizing and my favorite part is definitely the humans I meet and see evolve. None has left the lab yet and I look to this moment with both pride and dread.
Anyway, to whomever is reading this post, I wholeheartedly recommend the experience, especially when surrounded by wonderful colleagues and collaborators.
Here is the lab in 2022 and cheers to many more years.
If you are reading these lines I hope that you are doing well. The last few months have been quite strange and stressful for everyone. On my side, while I was opening my lab and getting started on projects, I had to put all activities on pause and manage the lab remotely. The upside is that I got to see my daughter learn to walk and to speak + lots of snuggles.
I have tried to vary activities during this COVID-19 situation and adapt to a different standard of productivity. I haven’t taken into baking though.
Here is a summary of what’s been going on for me:
Summary of the findings in the article Van Tilburg Bernardes et al. 2020 Nature Communications
Publication of postdoctoral project in Nature Communications: Intestinal fungi are causally implicated in microbiome assembly and immune development in mice. Congratulations to Erik and Claire for leading this very important piece demonstrating that fungi are gut resident and that the human gut microbiota is fundamentally multi-kingdoms and multi-trophic.
Co-organization of a special 14-articles issue in La Presse and (soon to be) republished in ACFAS: LA RELÈVE DU QUÉBEC PENSE L’APRÈS-COVID-19. Félix Mathieu, Catherine Girard and I organized this special issue and also made a collective contribution on Unir les générations(ACFAS link) in the hope that young researchers could contribute to the reflexion of a new society growing from the current challenge.
Isabelle Laforest-Lapointe