Do You, uh, Suffer from, um...Hesitant Speech?

During everyday conversations, people often sprinkle their speech with utterances such as “uh”, “um”, “like”, “you know”, etc. Linguists and psychologists consider this speech pattern, called “disfluency”, to be normal. Disfluences are defined as “phenomena that interrupt the flow of speech and do not add propositional content to an utterance”. In other words, useless vocalizations (although some researchers propose that speech pauses and fillers aid in listener understanding of what’s coming next).

Disfluency becomes a problem, however, when you are trying to convey your knowledge, especially during technical presentations. Some people view uhs and ums as annoyances that indicate the speaker is uncertain about their topic. What made me think about this was an experience I had recently. I gave a seminar about my research late one Friday afternoon. My husband, who was in the audience, told me later that I said uh an inordinate number of times—contrary to my usual, more polished delivery. I was stunned because I had been completely unaware of this--- even though I’m well aware that this is a common problem for some speakers.

I know I say uh in conversation when speculating about something or expressing a new idea or an opinion and sometimes during presentations when my train of thought is interrupted by some distraction in the audience or when I’m speaking extemporaneously. This is apparently very common and normal. Also, as I’ve aged, I find it increasingly difficult to retrieve words from memory as fast as when younger. I know the word is in there, even what the definition is, but somehow the route to it no longer works as efficiently (or perhaps the original path is blocked and the alternative path is longer). Hence, more pauses, more uhs, and slower speech. It’s worse later in the day when I’m mentally fatigued. Being in a stressful situation, such as speaking to an audience, probably further discombobulates my brain so that word retrieval is hindered.

On the positive side, I often have people whose first language is not English come up to me after a talk to tell me that they had no trouble understanding me—contrary to other Americans who speak too rapidly.

As you might guess, there is a wealth of information on the internet about disfluency and a substantial body of literature on the topic.

For some people, disfluency arises because of lack of knowledge; hence, a brief delay while contemplating what to say. Word fillers such as uh or like are used to fill the space—possibly in an effort to keep control of the conversation. I think that is possibly the core reason I use uh in conversations. When talking with other people, especially aggressive talkers, I know that any pause is invitation for the other person to jump in. Perhaps use of verbal fillers is a defense mechanism against being interrupted. I know that when I’m interrupted, I often lose my train of thought and sometimes cannot pick up the thread later. Interestingly, males are found to use verbal fillers such as uh more often than women.

Researchers studying disfluency also find that people use more uhs and ums when answering general knowledge questions. This point fits with what I was doing during my seminar. Apparently, I only uhed when I was giving a general introduction to the topic and stopped when I talked about specific data and findings. Also, uh appears to signal a shorter upcoming pause than um. I rarely (I think) use um. Another interesting observation is that speakers use uh and um more often before unusual or unpredictable words. This would likely be helpful in alerting the listener that something unusual was coming next (as suggested by some researchers). I found some studies showing that speakers who paused more frequently in responses to questions were rated more negatively by listeners. Answers preceded by uh or um were judged less likely to be correct than silent pauses. This is interesting because I’ve always felt that my use of uh was a signal that what I was saying was my opinion or the best explanation, but that there might be other interpretations—as opposed to signaling that I was not knowledgeable. Apparently, I'm wrong. An understanding of this effect on the listener should be useful to students undergoing questioning during thesis defenses.

So it would seem prudent to know if you tend to say uh or um a lot and if so, try to break the habit. But how? Some websites offer suggestions: this one for example. Being aware of the problem and consciously pausing or taking a breath instead of saying uh is probably the best remedy. Another good suggestion is to make an audio- or videotape of yourself giving a speech. Such an approach is very useful in identifying problematic verbal patterns.

Competition, Confidence, and Success

I was thinking the other day about the fact that scientists are dependent upon competitors (colleagues who compete with us for research $$ and for space in journals) for good reviews. Our promotions and status are often tied to how many papers we publish and how much grant funding we acquire. I can think of no other job in which a competitor has such an influence over the professional success of their peers. Attorneys, doctors, and other professionals have competitors, but their on-the-job performance is not often judged by peers in a way that has a substantive influence on their career success. Yes, their work may be judged by peers as outstanding, mediocre, or poor; but those opinions don’t necessarily prevent a doctor or attorney from having many clients and making lots of money. If they work for someone else, their job performance may be judged by supervisors or the owner of a business, but never based on the opinions of co-workers.

I was reminded of this difference while watching and reading about the confirmation hearings of Judge Sotomayor. Here is an instance in which a professional’s body of work is being put on display and which must be defended before being appointed to a prestigious position. She is being grilled by senators (mostly male), many of whom are either not educated in the law or who were not as successful as Sotomayor in the field of law. I can’t imagine what it would be like for a scientist to be quizzed by a group of non-scientists who do not really understand the finer points of one’s body of work. What you might think was a major finding that shed light on a particular topic, e.g., climate change, might be attacked by a questioner who claims that climate change is a hoax. Of course, that could be an opportunity to show how you can handle difficult questions. On the other hand, it might be easier to answer questions by non-scientists, rather than scientists, who know precisely where to dig.

I’ve noticed that scientists who confidently answer questions, even if the answer is wrong, are viewed as more erudite than those who are cautious in their answers. Scientists are notorious for not giving definitive answers to difficult questions—they provide so many caveats that the questioner concludes the scientist just isn’t knowledgeable. Ironically, it’s often the more knowledgeable person who equivocates—because they know how complicated the topic is and that there is no single, absolute answer. Ignorance, on the other hand, “begets confidence more frequently than does knowledge” (Charles Darwin).

Females tend to be more hesitant in giving a confident answer and standing by it when challenged. I see this all the time at meetings, in student defenses, etc. Yes, there are exceptions, but I’m talking about in general. What is it that makes us so uncertain about our abilities? Is the new generation of women more assured and fearless? What is different about those women who are confident? Were they always so, or did it develop over time?

I don’t have the answers. But my observation is that women’s opinions tend to be questioned more than men’s. If you are constantly challenged, it wears down your confidence. It takes a particularly strong-willed person to maintain their confidence in the face of frequent questioning or criticism. If you are never challenged, then I can imagine that you would develop a mindset that you are always right and ultimately exude an erudite bearing (warranted or not). This would suggest that we are trained to be confident (or not) based how we were treated growing up, in school, in the workplace, and other experiences. Also, there are likely biochemical differences (testosterone vs. estrogen) that determine aggression, modesty, etc., which determine how we react to such treatment. Nature and nurture.

We can’t do much about nature, but we can control our environment to some extent. If you are surrounded by negative people who are always critical of you, you have the option of changing your environment and relationships. It’s not always easy, of course, but then nothing worth having is typically easy.

Off the Grid

I've been doing fieldwork in a remote location for the past two weeks and have been out of internet reach. It's been blissful--not being able to compulsively check email every two minutes. At first, it's disturbing not knowing what's going on, what people are asking you about (or for), and "important" notifications. Gradually, though, you forget all about it and focus on other things--your real work, what's for dinner, whether it's going to rain today and interfere with fieldwork, etc. I've had no idea what's happening in the world. Has the US initiated another war? Any major terrorist attacks? What's Paris Hilton up to?

I'm on my way home and am now at a hotel with WiFi. I've checked my email and no major problems, thank goodness. I did have one nice surprise. I've been selected by my agency for a Diversity Award--for my work with Women in Wetlands.

Milestones

Someone asked me the other day if there was a difference in gender makeup of my collaborators—more male, more female, or about equal? I said that I currently have both male and female collaborators, but had never counted them up. I had a vague idea that the proportion of female collaborators had increased over time, but was not sure. So I looked at my publication record.

Less than 8 percent of my papers have been single-authored, so my publication record is dominated by co-authored papers. Most of my co-authors have been male, which I attribute to a number of factors: the colleague pool has been (and still is) male-dominated, more male than female colleagues have had substantial funding and active research programs (and the ability to collaborate), early papers were co-authored with an established male scientist (who was project leader on several grants). 41 percent of co-authored papers had at least one female co-author (colleagues, post-docs, students), and 16 percent had all female authors. 63 percent of papers published in the last ten years had female coauthors compared to 16 percent in the previous years.

Science articles with all-female authors occur, but I think are not very common. The dearth of senior female scientists in STEM fields (science, technology, engineering, math) limits the possibility of all-female research teams composed of people who are well-established and funded. Perhaps there are more female advisor-female student papers, but all female authors who are senior scientists are rarer.

I’m currently one of six female coauthors of a paper in press—a review focused on a mutual area of research. We all have different specialties (biogeochemistry, plant ecology, animal ecology, plant physiology, modeling, etc.), but work in a common wetland ecosystem. Our publication was not planned to be an all-female effort, but arose out of a jointly-funded project. As I was reading the page proofs, it hit me that this manuscript reflected not only the progress made in our field, but perhaps something more. I don’t necessarily think that this paper is evidence of progress by female scientists. It obviously reflects a number of factors, including our interwoven histories, common interests, ability to work together for many years, etc. It also reflects the fact that we’ve all managed to succeed to the point that we have our own labs, independent research programs, and the choice of who we work with.

I think the main point is that I no longer wonder about whether I can find colleagues who are interested in working with me. I have gradually built a network of female scientists that I can contact anytime—for help, advice, or collaboration. Although I’ve been lucky to find a few male collaborators along the way, my experience (with male scientists) has not been overall positive, ranging from disinterest to incredulity (that I would suggest a joint project). My impression, though, is that this attitude (toward me, at least) has changed, and more male colleagues are seeking me out. I can’t tell if this is due to enlightenment within the scientific community or to my reputation (that I’ve worked hard to build). Probably both.

I hope the younger generation of female scientists is finding it easier to be accepted by male colleagues. If not, find other women in your field (or in related fields) and cultivate your own network. A number of science societies (go here for an example) are promoting mentoring programs, which is a great way to network with established scientists as well as peers. Even if you prefer working alone, it helps tremendously to have someone to talk to who understands your situation.

Abstract Musings

How much effort do you put into writing scientific abstracts? Do you craft them carefully or treat them as an afterthought?

Here are some reasons to make an effort to write good abstracts.

First, the abstract may be the only part of a scientific article that is read. People often do not have access to the full article (requires a subscription or payment) or don’t want to spend the time reading the entire document, so they glean whatever they need from the abstract. Thus, it makes sense for your abstract to be as clear and concise as possible and to convey the essence of the paper and its significance. The more key words you include in your abstract, the more people are led to your paper and are likely to cite it.

Second, the abstract is often a preview of how good the paper is. Reviewers and editors form their first impressions of a submitted manuscript from the abstract. I know some reviewers who immediately reject a paper based solely on what they see in the abstract. Some editors (consciously or subconsciously) may use the abstract to decide whether to send out a paper for review. You might be surprised and outraged at this, but consider it from the reviewer’s viewpoint. Reviewers (and most associate editors) are providing their time for free and do not want to waste it on poorly-written manuscripts—ones that should be more polished before submission. The best way to annoy a reviewer is to submit a sloppy manuscript—and the abstract often announces just how bad it’s going to be.

The abstract tells the reader a number of things about the paper and the author(s) in addition to what the paper is about and what the main findings are. A poorly-written abstract says that the author is either a novice and does not understand how to write an abstract or is somewhat experienced, but did not put sufficient effort into the paper to write a proper abstract. Either way, it suggests that the rest of the paper is likely to be less than stellar. There are exceptions, of course, in which the paper turns out to be pretty good. However, I’ve seldom run into that situation.

When I get a paper to review, I first take a close look at the abstract. It tells me a lot about how much effort I will have to go to make a decision about it and to provide constructive criticism. I can often predict what the journal's decision will be based solely on the quality of the abstract. More specifically, I can spot the papers that will be accepted with minor revision. There will be some good papers with so-so abstracts; these are often the ones that are acceptable with major revision. The papers with atrocious abstracts often end up in the reject pile.

Note that as a reviewer/assoc. editor, I always read the ENTIRE paper and judge it on all its merits. The point is that the abstract sets the tone for the paper, which may take considerable positive points in the remaining narrative to overcome an initial bad impression. In contrast, a good abstract makes an immediate positive impression.

A bad abstract can also result when the paper is not really very interesting or important, and the abstract simply reflects this fact. This situation calls for even more effort on your part to prepare a good abstract. You must be creative in selling your paper, and the abstract is the advertisement for it. You can’t exaggerate, of course, but you should “put your best foot forward” in the abstract. It can make the difference between acceptance and rejection.

A really good abstract tells the editor that the work is important and interesting and that the author is a skilled scientist and writer. A “meaty” abstract contains lots of good information and creates a sense of curiosity in the reader, who then can’t wait to read the entire paper to get a full understanding of what was done, how it was done, and what it all means. You want your abstract also to say to the reviewer or editor that you are a professional (you’ve done your job and are not depending on the editor or reviewers to do it for you).

A final reason to spend time on your abstract is that it often helps you identify weaknesses in the paper that you then fix during later revisions. If you are having trouble summarizing your work in 300 words or so, then your paper may lack focus or organization or is unclear as to the work's significance.

Authors are often advised to write the abstract LAST, but this sometimes is translated by students as the abstract being the least important component of the paper. If you simply pull statements from the narrative and stick them together in a string, you are not really preparing a good summary of your paper.

So what makes a good abstract? A good place to start is the top journals in your field. Read and carefully analyze the abstracts of papers published in the best journals. They will all contain key elements. If you are a novice writer, a good formula to follow is:

1. Aim (state the problem or study objectives)
2. Location (briefly say where the study was conducted) or type of system, species, etc. you studied.
3. Methods (briefly describe the approach)
4. Results (concisely state the MAIN results—the ones that directly relate back to your stated objectives)
5. Main conclusions and significance (the “take-home message”)

Pay close attention to the word limit required by journals for abstracts. The shorter the abstract, the more difficult to write and the more effort required to get it right.

Practice writing abstracts. If you haven’t written any papers yet, select some good articles in a major journal and write an abstract for them based on your reading (don’t look at the abstract, though). Then compare your attempt with the published abstract.

So, if you are dreading writing that abstract, don’t procrastinate—get busy and develop your skills so that your next one sends the message: “Read this paper; it will be worth your while”.

Image Credit: "Abstract Thoughts" and oil painting by Aleta Gudelski

Intuition

What do you do if you suspect someone of scientific misconduct? What if you are accused of scientific fraud?

I just finished reading an academic novel called “Intuition”, which is about scientific fraud, whistle-blowing, and interpersonal relationships in a scientific laboratory devoted to investigating potential cancer cures. I found it a fascinating look at ethics as well as an entertaining story about scientists behaving badly.

Image by J. Taylor

When I was younger and more idealistic, I would not have hesitated to report misconduct. Now, I would tread more carefully.

Upon seeing a bank being robbed, a hit-and-run, or a child being abused, many people will call the authorities without thinking twice and stick around to provide eyewitness statements. But when it comes to reporting a coworker, a supervisor, an employee, or a colleague of suspected wrongdoing, people are more likely to hesitate because of the potential consequences—for themselves as well as for the accused.

Whistleblowers often suffer consequences equal to or even more serious than the people they accuse--which gives one pause. There is also the situation in which the evidence of scientific misconduct is not clear-cut. If you suspect misconduct, you must decide if there is enough evidence to warrant instigating an investigation. If you are mistaken, the person you accuse will suffer damage to their reputation that may never be overcome. There is also the possibility that the person you accuse will turn the tables on you and sue for slander and/or initiate an investigation into your scientific integrity in retaliation.

What if it’s you who’s accused of misconduct? Early in my career someone put some documents in my mailbox that insinuated I had altered data. There were two photocopies of a graph: one from a draft report to a funding agency and the other from the published article based on the same work. The same data point on each graph was circled with a red marking pen. The mean values on the two graphs differed slightly, and the first had a larger standard error. There were several question marks written next to these data points. That’s all there was—no note and no indication of who had put it in my mailbox. But the implication was clear: someone was threatening me with “evidence” of wrongdoing.

Of course, I knew who had done it. I had been harassed for years by a male coworker. This particular incident occurred about a week after I had cleaned out some of my old files, discarding duplicate copies and early drafts of old reports and manuscripts into the recycle bin. This individual apparently had been monitoring the recycle bin looking for something damaging.

This was one of those situations that superficially looked suspicious, but for which there was a reasonable explanation. The first photocopied graph was from an early draft of a report. I later noticed that one data point had an unusually large standard error compared to the others. I rechecked the original data and discovered a data entry error (a misplaced decimal point), which I then corrected. The final draft of the report and the journal article had the correct data. The difference between the two versions of the graph had no impact on the overall conclusions of the study or even the interpretation of that specific graph. Of course, that would not matter if the change had been made inappropriately.

The individual who had put these documents into my mailbox never reported it. I think he got more satisfaction out of me waiting to be accused of misconduct. I did worry about it for a long time—until it was clear nothing would come of it. There was little I could do because I had no proof that it was this person who had done this.

After that incident, I never put anything in the paper recycle bin.

Welcome to the Dollhouse

….is a film about the brutal and Kafkaesque experience of a girl in junior high school (in America). It basically portrays how cruel kids can be to each other. Dawn Wiener (aka “Wiener Dog” to her classmates) is the central character who is psychologically tormented by both family members and classmates primarily because she is somewhat nerdy, unattractive, and exudes a “victim vibe” that seems to attract bullying.

I often think about this film whenever I contemplate how things in the workplace/field of science are not much different from the schoolyard.

We’ve all (male and female) experienced instances in which we are not treated with respect. For women in science, however, disrespectful and unequal treatment is fairly insidious and very difficult to articulate, much less prove.

I realize that some women, particularly younger women, entering the field of science think that all these “feminist” problems were solved back in the 60s. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. A number of recent reports suggest that female scientists still lag far behind their male counterparts (see previous posts). The fact that many members of the new generation of female scientists seem unaware of this is quite disturbing.

There are many reasons for lack of progress, which include lack of mentors, family-work conflicts, and others. The point is that we have enough obstacles without having to deal with subtle discrimination. The point of articulating recurring problems is not to complain or whine about unfair treatment, but to raise awareness in both the potential victim and the (sometimes well-meaning, but clueless) perpetrator. And possibly this articulation will suggest ways of dealing effectively with these situations so that we can concentrate on more important things.

So, over the past few months, I’ve been collecting examples of ways in which female scientists are marginalized, discouraged, or undermined. Some of these are from my own experience (some as recent as this month), some have been forwarded to me by other female scientists, and others have been gleaned from blogs written by female scientists.

What I find interesting is the similarity among examples reported by other women. In the past, the ways that women (and other minorities) were discriminated against were quite consistent and blatant. It seems that although the means are no longer so blatant, there are still consistent themes.

Here is my list so far (in no particular order):
1. Deja-vu: You make a valid point, but it is ignored. Later (sometimes minutes after), someone else (usually male) poses the same idea and only then is it acknowledged by others. This is a direct putdown of you and your ideas.
2. Do I Exist?: A male member of a group consistently ignores you in meetings, looking only at other males in the group and directing questions or comments to everyone except you. No, it’s not your imagination.
3. Alpha Male: A male scientist tries to get you to turn over your dataset or method (that you’ve spent years or your career developing) to them, with no offer of collaboration. This often happens right after you give a presentation. The implication is that you do not know what to do with such excellent data; whereas he, the alpha male, does.
4. Subordinate (Insecure) Male: A male, typically a lackluster scientist, upon hearing about your research, announces that he’s already doing that study or “has the paper ready to go”. In fact, he doesn’t. He’s just threatened by someone who has actually completed work he wishes he had done.
5. We All Look Alike: You are often confused with other female scientists (despite major differences in appearance). This behavior is a dead give-away that you are not considered to be an individual, but a member of a group of “not-so-important others”.
6. Misplaced Chivalry: Men frequently offer their help in telling you how to do something or even try to intervene physically (even if it is your job or your project). When you politely decline their assistance, they protest that they are only trying to be nice, helpful, etc. Actually, they are undermining your authority (whether consciously or not).
7. Inappropriate Comments: Women are more frequently judged based on their appearance than men. People feel free to comment on your appearance, often in the context of an overall assessment of your abilities.
8. Call Me Dr.: You are frequently referred to as “Miss”, “honey”, “young lady”, or titles other than your correct professional title (Dr.). If you think this is the result of ignorance, ask yourself if your male colleagues with Ph.D.s are often mistakenly called “Mr., Boy, “Little Guy”, or “Sonny”.
9. Boy’s Club: You hear about a lunch or meeting that you were not invited to or an email that was sent to all your male colleagues, partners, or coworkers, but somehow you were left off the list of correspondents. Once is an oversight. Twice or more is a pattern.
10. Territorial Imperative: Other male scientists attack your work like a pack of wild dogs pouncing on an innocent rabbit, making outrageous accusations and hinting at your incompetence. Some write nasty letters to you, telling you how you misinterpreted your data. A few call you to demand that you stop working on THEIR TOPIC. Others write directly to journals trying to get your papers withdrawn. Still others actually go to your field site in an attempt to collect data to refute your previously published research that disproved their pet theory.

We can deal with isolated incidents or slights by ignoring them; but when they occur regularly, it gradually eats away at our confidence. The frustration can even lead us to subvert our principles (so as to be accepted by the crowd) or even behave like our tormenters.

Which brings us back to “Welcome to the Dollhouse”. The film is a spot-on portrayal of human behavior in an unrelentingly hostile environment. Dawn Wiener is so starved for acceptance that when a bully orders her to meet him after school so that he can “rape” her—she actually shows up for it. The bully is also abused, and so on…