Is graduate school in chemistry bad for your mental health? Part 2

Note: this post is the second in a series of five in a dialogue between Vinylogous (Not the Lab) and Chemjobber. This dialogue seeks to facilitate a discussion around the question: “‘Is graduate school in chemistry bad for your mental health?” For the first post, click here. Tomorrow’s post (part 3) will appear at Chemjobber’s blog. 

Dear Chemjobber,

This dialogue has been really illustrative so far, despite only beginning today. I have to admit that I’m surprised by how largely one-sided the responses have been: overwhelmingly it seems clear that chemistry grad school, as it is run in the US, is frequently very, very bad for mental health. It’s good that these issues are coming to light, and it seems that there are many chemists who share a common experience.

I admit that I expected more people to jump up in defense of the current system—maybe we’ll see more of that this week. From what I’ve seen, many synthesis labs are stocked with advocates of the old-school style of management: I consider this a scientific Stockholm syndrome. These people brag about the sheer amount of grunt work they can accomplish and the late hours they routinely work, scoff at those having out-of-lab hobbies, and deride physical/analytical/biological chemists as a matter of principle.

It seems that many, many (most!) comments on your first post are written from the “other side” – the promised land beyond the degree. I don’t see many remarks so far from current grad students, though at least one grad-school-bound undergrad has expressed how frightening it all seems. Derek Lowe’s thoughts on the matter have generated a healthy stream of comments themselves.

My own perspective is a little different, as you anticipated. I obtained my (thesis) M.S. in organic synthesis at one university and at the moment I’m relatively early in my path toward a Ph.D. in organic chemistry at a different institution, where I’m pre-candidacy. As such, my “grad-school crazies” haven’t had a chance to set in here yet. We’ll see, I guess, but I don’t plan on completely sacrificing my twenties on the altar of Science.

Getting an M.S. deliberately before a Ph.D., as I did, is unusual (since a master’s is typically considered a ‘quitting’ degree). But I think it was useful.

At one point during my previous degree, when I was doing research, taking classes, and teaching, my advisor told me frankly that my productivity needed to increase. It needed to double. At that point I already felt that I was at my absolutely limit in what I could accomplish in a week. At that point, I had nowhere near enough data for a paper and barely enough for a mediocre conference poster. Weekends had been given up, as had hobbies. When I mentioned to my advisor the many demands on my time, his response was short: “Sometimes you need to prioritize what’s important to you.” (The subtext: stop caring about class and teaching and hobbies). It was an existential moment. I managed somehow to increase my productivity and my efficiency, and within a year or so I had three first-author manuscripts. I defended my M.S. and graduated, moving to another (higher tier) school for a Ph.D. But I left with a pre-conditioned bitterness towards graduate work.

The experience wasn’t terrible, in retrospect: I learned a lot of techniques, gained facility with the literature, developed writing skills, did a little mentoring, etc. But crucially, my time there observing advisors and Ph.D. students showed me the dark aspects of the system. This was a mid-tier grad program, where JACS articles were few and far between. But 7-day workweeks were expected; dinner was eaten hurriedly at one’s desk; stealing was frequent and hoarding of reagents and glassware was necessary. Multiple students wallowed about for seven to ten (!!!) years, probably with undiagnosed depression, and without proper pushing from advisors, they left with (useless) non-thesis master’s degrees. One didn't want anything to do with science upon leaving. Another claims on LinkedIn to have a Ph.D. from the department anyway. A Ph.D. candidate in one lab would, on multiple occasions, suffer rapid bouts of anger (on one occasion, he realized after putting a purified column fraction on the rotary evaporator that he had not pre-weighed the flask—in frustration, he took the glassware and hurled it at the wall).

Importantly, it gave me an idea of what to look for on recruiting weekends when applying to Ph.D. institutions. And awareness of the stress and mental trials of graduate work. I think awareness is vital in preventing emotional collapse; if you can see a problem on the horizon, you can plan and maybe circumvent it.

I think a question worth exploring is this: what aspects of the system contribute to the inordinate amount of stress and threaten mental health? I’m going to spend some time discussing my observations, and I invite comment on them.

Work/life balance. I think this is THE biggest thing wrong with organic chemistry that contributes to stress. Professors usually don’t want to discuss work-life balance, because it means fewer hours from their students (I must add here that some do; a few that I know recognize that happier students are more productive and encourage their grads to pursue outside interests. These labs have the most funding in our department).

Some examples are in order.

I talked to another grad student who has a passion for a certain extramural sport. He plays it weekly during the warm and leukwarm months. He’s been productive, has several good publications, and is personable and helpful, despite frequently leaving at 5 pm. I asked him why he chose his current lab over another that does very similar work. His reply: “My advisor lets me play [identifying sport]. I don’t think [the other professor] would.”

In my previous degree work, I found myself at situation where I “worked” even when at home: I’d speculate on my project over dinner, and I’d read manuscripts rather than read books (reverse procrastination). What I hadn't done was compartmentalize or set limits. As it is now, I avoid reading manuscripts or planning tasks after I go home for the day if I can. It’s not realistic all the time, but I try to adhere to “work smarter, not harder.” That is, I strive for efficiency at work and minimal overlap of work and not-work. Realistically, not everyone is allowed to do this, as bosses have very different demands on time.

One organic professor at my previous institution had a reputation for being candid. He also had a fairly solid research record to his name. One day in seminar, a friend and I were discussing installing our university’s VPN client so we could access journal articles off-campus. The professor overheard and snorted. “I don’t have the VPN on my computer,” he said. “I don’t want to read this s#*@ when I go home.”

An important perspective also came from a friend of mine who we were giving a hard time for owning a fancy set of kitchen knives. “You don’t need knives for Ramen noodles,” we insisted. He countered honestly: “I like cooking. If there gets to be a time when I can’t use my fancy knives, then what’s the point? I’ll just quit.” Since then, I myself have resumed cooking.

I think an important thing is: you need at least one hobby. One non-science hobby. Mine right now is writing (last year I wrote a bad but time-consuming novel). If you don’t that kind of time, I think your work and health suffer.

Overall, discussions of work/life balance are absent from chemistry programs; frankly, a student and PI should establish a mutual understanding of what this means, and it should be open to re-negotiation later on. In our departmental orientation, we were handed a list of university counseling centers in an almost embarrassed manner. But no discussion of how to step beyond the lab. Instead, our area head told us: “You should always have something running in your hood.”

Nebulosity. The fact that grad school is a weird, highly variable purgatory is a major contributor, I think. There’s no end in sight, usually, until less than a year from graduation. Some people take 4 years; some take more than 7. The record here might be 13, with an average of 5.5. Moreover, time-to-graduation keeps increasing. It’s a giant chunk of uncertainty. And hours can be uncertain, too. How much is enough? Will 5 more hours a week be useful? Will 5 less be too unproductive? How many papers do I need to get a good degree?

The economy. Because of the down chemistry job market, employment is tougher to find (of course you, Chemjobber, know this). Thus, there’s more competition between students. And as grad students grasp the reality of the employment situation, that dangling carrot of a med-chem job they’d been trodding after starts to shrivel and rot. It’s one thing to put in 10 years of work for a great, stable, high-paying career. It’s another to put in that time for an uncertain future where a career you don’t want or care about is a stark possibility.

Advisors and power structure. I mentioned previously a fifth-year grad student who plays a sport. One of his friends, another fifth-year student, plays on the same league. He’s a member of a different lab, however. He has to hide his activity from his advisor, who already banned the lab from their routine Thursday-night trip to a local restaurant for dinner (they “weren’t being productive enough.”).

I think it’s fairly obvious that advisors are in a power to be abusive, and though many aren’t, a large number are. And oblivious advisors can be as hurtful as malicious advisors. If a student has undiagnosed depression, it may show in their recommendation letters in the form of descriptions of laziness or lack of enthusiasm. Advisors have huge career-altering power. A set of nasty letters from a former boss can sink your chances at good jobs, and there’s really no system to avoid this if you happen to accidentally piss someone off. 

On the other hand, some professors are very keen on their students' happiness and treat them with respect. I've seen professors who go by their first name and invite their lab to gatherings at their house as well as professors who want formalities (including scheduling appointments with a secretary to even have a ten minute talk) and aren't interested in their students beyond a working capacity.

Grad students. As at least one person mentioned in comments, a certain kind of person goes for graduate school work. We’re usually perfectionists or close to it. And quite often workaholics. This leads to long hours and a roller coaster of emotions dependent intimately on each day’s reaction’s success or failure. No one discourages this line of thought: professors want long hours and high yields.

Another thing: I think grad students are likely to exacerbate each other’s poor mental states. This is one reason you see some labs with uniformly high happiness and others with endemic surliness. Generally, your social circle in grad school is confined to your labmates. People swap complaints. These things build, so one person’s problems became another’s. Bad moods are contagious.

The field itself. Also called the “low-hanging fruit problem.” It’s frequently argued that a lot of innovation in synthetic organic chemistry is dead; we’re in the post-Woodwardian era, where advances take more time and are increasingly incremental rather than truly innovative. This leads to a demand for longer hours in order to get results considered worthy. Plus, organic work involves a high amount of “grunt work”—quasi-thoughtless, repetitive tasks such as setting up the same reaction thirty times to complete a table, running columns, distilling solvents, etc. Some subfields are fresher and more varied in their day-to-day, and I’d suspect these have lower rates of stress and depression. I started (M.S. program) in a synthetic lab; I’m currently (Ph.D. program) in a lab where a minority of the work is synthetic. The chemical biologists here are, in large, much more socially well-adjusted and happy than the methodology-driven synthetic chemists are.

So I guess it’s complicated.

I think I had a much clearer picture of the state of organic research going into grad school than do a lot of students, who frequently leap into high-profile labs under the seduction of wedges and dashes without a hard look at what they’re really getting into. I started as one of those chemists.

When discussing these aspects of grad school with organic chemist colleagues, I hear a frequent reply: “Yes, it’s tough, but everyone knows what they’re getting into.” “No one goes into Professor Schmorey B. Deathflask’s lab without expecting that.” “It’s what you have to do to get good work done.”

I don’t know that that’s true. And even if it were, I don’t think that that absolves those in power of responsibility or justifies the system as it is currently run.

So what do you think? I’ve got loads of questions on my mind. What aspects contribute to it? What can be done about it, realistically? And interestingly, how does chemistry grad school compare to other high-demand fields: say, getting a DVM or an MD? How does it compare to graduate programs in business (where compensation upon completion is much higher) or the humanities? Is the stress and mental health worth it—does it pay off to stick it out? I look forward to your thoughts!

Regards,

Vinylogous