By David Gow
Psychology Department

Undergraduates Heidi Kien and Sarah Luong have been editing digital sound files—a lot of digital sound files. It is not particularly glamorous work. These files will serve as stimuli for an NIH-funded study into the biological and psychological mechanisms that allow listeners to adapt to and understand accented speech. Like most basic science it seems pretty esoteric, but it may ultimately have significant real-world implications. English is the worldwide default language of air traffic control, even though pilots and controllers in much of the world do not speak English as a first language. If you ever travel by air (or pass under people who do) you may have some investment in the study.

For the experiment to work, Heidi and Sarah will have to be exacting, consistent, and make thoughtful choices. They will need to master the fundamentals of acoustic-phonetic analysis, digital signal manipulation, and the craft of building a good experiment from the ground up. This is the quotidian work of a research assistant earning course credit for a directed study.

Working as a research assistant is an important rite of passage for an aspiring scientist. My story is typical. I apprenticed in two labs as an undergraduate, four as a graduate student, and two as a postdoc. These experiences shaped my skill sets and scientific outlook and introduced me to the entirely foreign cultures of professional science and academia. A student can learn about a field by reading and attending classes, but most researchers would agree that the only way to become a scientist is by doing real scienc . For the past 6 years I have been training students through directed studies and volunteer internships. It has been a wonderful experience for me because it has provided a tangible way to integrate my professional lives as a psychology professor teaching at Salem State and a researcher at the Massachusetts General Hospital.

Directed studies work on an apprenticeship model that offers significant rewards for both students and professors. Most students correctly see it as an important part of the graduate school application process. It provides them with a basic familiarity with the research process that graduate schools find highly desirable. It also provides their advisers with the individual insight and familiarity that is required to write compelling letters of recommendation.

From my perspective, a directed study offers something else that is less tangible but at least as valuable: It is an opportunity to try on the research life and observe the culture and values of the scientific community. The decision to go on to graduate school and perhaps a career in science is, at its core, a life choice. At some point, aspiring scientists have to ask themselves whether they can imagine getting out of bed every day for the rest of their working lives to pursue this kind of life. I am not sure that a person can make this decision based on reading and coursework alone. Who would anticipate the constant challenges of raising research support, the thousands of small decisions that go into producing an experiment or paper, the politics of publication and intellectual competition, or the pleasures of being part of a worldwide community of scholars? Directed study students experience all of these things as they solicit travel funds from on-campus sources, wrestle with recalcitrant experimental designs and results, and present their work directly to leaders in their fields at professional conferences. Most students find the experience both grueling and enormously rewarding. Nicole Couture (’06), who presented research at a world conference in Vancouver, BC as part of her directed experience, describes the experience as being the toughest learning experience she has ever had, but adds, “it was incredibly valuable.”

As a professor, I also get a lot out of my directed studies. Beyond the data we collect, I get the chance to see students exceed their own expectations on a regular basis. When we attend a poster session at a conference, there is generally a moment when students fully internalize (frequently in a blind panic) the fact that they will be presenting their work directly to the people who wrote the papers they have been studying all semester. It is at best a sobering realization. And yet, a few hours later I invariably encounter at least one colleague from a major research university who will pass on a compliment about my “graduate students.” It means a lot to my students, but it also inspires me to step up my game try to exceed my expectations for my own work.

This article is part of ASpect’s May 2009 issue, Undergraduate Research.