Learning by Imitating
Olivia Wilkins
Spring means ALMA proposals are due, this year on April 20. This is my fifth ‘ALMA Season,’ which means for the last few weeks, I’ve been in proposal writing mode, and Alex has kept the mocha lattes flowing.
I wrote my first-ever telescope proposal during the spring term of my first year of being a PhD student. I had written personal statements and research statements before, but I had never written an actual proposal before. It was a week before the deadline. My advisor called all of the observers into his office for a planning meeting in which we pitched our proposal ideas and he provided feedback. Then, he turned us loose to start writing. I had no idea what I was doing.
My task was to co-write a proposal with my graduate mentor, who was a sixth-year PhD candidate at the time. Because this was my first proposal, he suggested that I write the scientific justification — basically what science we proposed to do and why it was important, not only to astrochemistry, but to astronomy broadly — and he would write the technical justification — or the parts that described the telescope settings we were requesting and why we needed to use those settings.
My graduate mentor sent me a PDF of a past successful proposal as an example. As a novice, the science was way over my head. I was still in classes and was just starting with research, meaning I was still getting a hang of the research tools and hadn’t yet thought too much about actual research concepts. I read over the proposal, some parts multiple times, and made an outline that probably looked something like this:
Introduction to the specific area of astrochemistry research
“We propose here observations which…” statement
Quantities we expect and why they matter
Some science I don’t really understand
Past observations
Some more science I don’t really understand
Follow-up research question to be addressed in this proposal
Hypotheses
Wow I don’t know anything
Statement sucking up to ALMA stating why it is THE only telescope for these observations
Secondary objectives
My mentor was patient and carefully explained what we should propose and why. I listened, repeated back what he said, he clarified or confirmed that I understood, and I went back to my desk to work through the proposal. I went to his desk several times a day over the next week, repeating this ritual every visit. Sometimes he came to my desk to check in and give me tidbits of advice.
Although I was starting to understand what we were proposing to do, I didn’t fully get it until a couple years ago, well after submitting the proposal and getting the data. At the time, I wrote down what my graduate mentor said and touched it up to match my own voice, all while scouring the literature for anything that I could fit into the template I made from his past proposal. I was honored and delighted and completely surprised when he suggested I be listed as the PI (principal investigator) on the proposal. I was proud when the proposal got accepted, but I was even more proud that I submitted a proposal in a week without any prior experience. I’ve written many more proposals since then, but I no longer need to imitate my mentor’s proposals because I’ve found my own approach and ideas.
It’s really interesting watching my son go through a similar process as he learns new things. He is almost five, and he just soaks up everything he sees and hears. My favorite is that he imitates Alex’s and my love for him. Initially, he would just repeat back “I love you,” and now he frequently initiates it. He has even started to say, “I love you too,” when we say “I love you” first. The other night, I said, “I love you three,” to be silly, and he recognized the joke and repeated back “I love you one hundred!” Güni also makes ‘dinner’ for his stuffed animals, going through different steps he has observed when Alex prepares meals. One day, he just starting holding the door open for us without us ever asking him too.
As a graduate student, I’ve also internalized less-than-ideal behaviors. I don’t ask questions when I should, and I often try to puzzle through things for far too long. I’ve started using words and phrases in my writing that made me cringe several years ago. After seeing “As such” a million times, I now use the transitional phrase more often than I’d care to admit. (However, I am still vehemently opposed to any form of “utilize.”)
Similarly, Günther has learned some phrases I wish he wouldn’t have. He frequently looks at an imaginary wristwatch and declares, “I need to get work done!” something he picked up from me. Fortunately, Güni’s ‘work’ is playing Minecraft, so he’s just playing that a lot, but this constant urgency of needing to ‘work’ is something I never wanted to pass on to my child, especially at the age of four. Granted, he’s probably just imitating Mommy because he loves me and wants to ‘work’ with me in the office, but it made me realize how lately I haven’t been doing as well with work-life integration and that I’ve been distracted by a need to work, even during designated family time.
I am excited to see how Günther learns to personalize the behaviors he now imitates as he grows older, just like I learned to write my own proposals while no longer closely imitating my former graduate mentor’s. Hopefully, work is something he decides should always be at least somewhat enjoyable since he currently associates work with Minecraft. For now, I’m just happy to have an officemate again (well, most of the time).