Text | Sun Tao Bu Jinting
Editor's note
"The brave man has not only played mahjong with the mentor, but also sang K with the mentor. Changing the atmosphere of the laboratory started with me, and today is another day for the tutor to eat, drink and have fun! ”
This is a portrayal of Chen Mengyuan's happy career as a Ph.D. student. She is 26 years old and is a second-year Ph.D. in neuroscience at the University of Tokyo School of Medicine in Japan.
Three years ago, she applied for a two-year master's degree at the University of Tokyo School of Medicine from a "double non-resident" university in China. After graduating, she became a doctoral student of Kenichi Ohki, who was also supervised by her mentor. She said that it was really a pleasure to study for a PhD at the School of Medicine at Tokyo University, "not only the architecture and scenery are attractive, but the teachers also care about the students, not to mention the various scholarships and RA (research assistant) places."
Recently she was getting her driver's license. The driving school is far away from the school, and she will not go to the laboratory for nearly half a month, after all, the laboratory does not have a strict punch-in system. Hearing the news that she was learning to drive, the tutor was not only not in a hurry, but was happy for her: "This way it will be more convenient for you to go out and play." ”
Compared with some domestic laboratories that "roll" to the sky, such a happy doctoral career seems to be too hateful. And in a special way, they have broken the obsession with KPIs such as publishing papers.
The following is Chen Mengyuan's narration -
Chen Mengyuan and mentor Kenichi Ohki, the tutor was taken in the photo, but it can be seen that both of them are very happy.
Never take yourself lightly
In 2021, I successfully obtained a master's degree from the School of Medicine at the University of Tokyo.
I have been studying in Zhejiang Province, my parents wanted me to stay in my hometown, I originally planned to go to Zhejiang University through the postgraduate entrance examination, but I met a class teacher who changed the trajectory of my life at a "double non" university. He encouraged us to go abroad for graduate school and actively connected us to various resources.
However, when I was preparing to apply to foreign schools, I received a lot of negative feedback from study abroad agents, such as "You are a 'double non', even if you have a gold medal in iGEM (International Genetic Engineering Machine Competition), it is difficult to go to a good school". These words stung me faintly, but I didn't admit defeat and still wanted to fight for a better school.
So I started the "sea investment" mode. Fortunately, a professor at the University of Tokyo, who is now my supervisor, replied to my email and gave me the opportunity to take the entrance exam.
I once asked my tutor why he chose me as a student. He said that he was struck by the reflections on neuroscience in my email, and that the research proposal I sent him was so great that he felt that he could do great research even if my background didn't match his research direction.
When I was in college, none of our undergraduate courses were even related to neuroscience, so I generously admitted in my email that I lacked a background. My supervisor's research direction is vision, so I used vision as a starting point to tell him why I wanted to study vision. I further wrote: Although I was an undergraduate in biotechnology, I was eager to study neuroscience and wanted to understand consciousness. I think the essence of consciousness is information, and if we can understand the mechanism of information processing, maybe we can understand how consciousness is generated. Later, my mentor told me that it was my motivation that struck him.
The mentor is a "post-70s". He is a pure scientist and has no commercial activities outside of scientific research; Very casual, but serious about scientific research. He was born in Tokyo, studied for his bachelor's degree and Ph.D. at the University of Tokyo's School of Medicine, then went to Harvard University in the United States as a postdoctoral fellow and got a lecturer position, then returned to Kyushu University in Japan as a professor, and returned to the University of Tokyo as a professor in 2016.
Chen Mengyuan
Not happy at first
The University of Tokyo didn't start with a happy life. When I first entered the laboratory to study for a master's degree, I was PUA by a senior brother.
Freshmen who have just entered the laboratory can easily regard the PUA skills of their mentors or seniors as their own guidance and value. Over time, it's easy to feel like you're bad.
It was a Chinese senior brother who was three years older than me. At first, my Japanese skills were not very good, so I took the initiative to communicate and communicate with the Chinese brothers in the laboratory, but I got a lesson that I couldn't look back on.
He often belittled me, always thought I was stupid, slow to read literature, slow to read code, slow to learn animal surgery. He didn't think a person like me should come to the University of Tokyo, that he shouldn't be in the same lab as him, and that he even pointed out what I was wearing.
His usual phrase was, "You should treat the lab as a place to work, and you shouldn't do anything unrelated to research." "You are a 'double non' student, I don't think you are qualified to come here."
At first, I listened to my brother very much, and I felt that I really didn't have a solid foundation and was not very smart, so I kept working hard to complete the tasks he assigned to me, but I hardly got any positive feedback from him.
The long-term PUA led to my serious self-doubt and internal friction. For most of the year, I didn't dare to communicate with other people in the laboratory, and even suspected that I was not the material for scientific research at all. My passion for research was gradually extinguished. Until one day, I was scolded and cried by him and asked him, "Why do you say that?" He replied, "Because it's so cool." "It dawned on me that the problem was not me, it was him. So, I started to turn around and ask for help from other colleagues in the lab and cut down on my interactions with him.
Later, I found that I was not so bad in the eyes of my peers, and even my learning and growth rate exceeded my mentor's expectations. Later, I learned how to judge the other person's PUA themselves: is the other person's criticism objective, unemotional, and factual? Is it the right thing and not the right person, and will point out your shortcomings and propose solutions, rather than just venting your emotions? Does the way they speak make them feel uncomfortable?
In contrast, I was often encouraged by an assistant professor in the lab, who was also my little mentor. Whether I encounter problems in scientific research or life, he will find a way to help me solve them. He taught me how to write a research proposal, accompanied me to revise my thesis over and over again, and helped me get a scholarship that only has 6 places in the medical school every year.
Later, I found that there were not many rules in the lab, and most of the members, including the supervisor, were very easy-going and caring about the students.
That happy me is finally back.
Photos of welcoming new students to eat together this year. The lower right corner is the mentor, the second from the right is the little guide, and the third from the right is Chen Mengyuan.
A Buddhist and "willful" teacher
There are about 30 people in our research group, and the teacher-student ratio is very high. In addition to my supervisor, there are 1 associate professor, 3 lecturers, 5 assistant professors, 4 postdocs, 4 technicians, 1 secretary, and 11 graduate students.
The daily research pressure of the research group is not great, and there is no need to report the progress to the supervisor every week or month. Each week, one person is asked to present a top paper in their field of study, and another person presents their own research progress, so that each person has a turn every three or four months. This rule is not strict, and even if it is the turn to introduce progress, it can be arbitrarily changed to an introduction paper.
The mentor himself is capricious. He could have recruited 2 master's students and 2 doctoral students every year, but for two years he didn't recruit students, but this year he recruited 4 doctoral students at once. The same is true for topics: if he is very interested in your ideas, he will often talk to you and share papers that he finds helpful, and if he is not very interested, he will not be too proactive.
He doesn't have any special preferences for recruiting students, and he doesn't pay much attention to the academic background of students, but he values the eye. He told me that, in addition to my thoughts on neuroscience, looking at the photos on my resume, I felt that I was a cheerful person who would be suitable for his lab.
One of the particularly interesting things I found was that Japanese people are less anxious about age. It seems that for Japanese people, the age of 30 has just begun. The Japanese eldest brother in the laboratory who enrolled in the same doctoral program as me, graduated from Tokyo University with a bachelor's degree in engineering, went to other schools to re-study for a bachelor's degree in medicine halfway through his master's degree, and returned to Tokyo University in his 30s to study for a doctorate in medicine. There is also a Japanese senior brother who worked in a band for two years after graduating from Tokyo University, and then returned to school to study for a doctorate in medicine.
I envy how calmly they face age. This may have something to do with the funding policy, for example, in the case of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, some projects for young people are not limited to age, but to the time of obtaining a doctorate, and researchers who have obtained a doctorate within eight years can apply.
As I got to know my mentor more and more, a firm thought came to me – I wanted to do my PhD and stay in his lab. Compared with China, it will be much easier to graduate with a master's degree at the University of Tokyo, even if the research result is negative, you can graduate, and you do not need to send any journal papers after graduation. The mechanism of retweeting is also relatively simple. In Japan, professors have a lot of say, and if a tutor wants to recruit you, the school basically won't get stuck.
However, the requirements for doctoral graduation are relatively high, although there is no requirement to issue a thesis, but you need to convince the top professors in your field that they think that you can get a doctorate, and this criterion is more subjective.
It is very common for our laboratory to be postponed, and some senior brothers have studied for 8 years before graduating. There was also a senior who defended for 4 hours, and the judges couldn't understand what he was doing, so they kept asking him.
I think maybe the atmosphere is too "free" and the mentor doesn't care how much we do in the lab. However, this atmosphere is what I like, and if the teacher is tight, I may become rebellious.
Now, I'm learning to drive in a place far away from school. This means that I won't be in the lab for nearly half a month. When I told my mentor, he was happy: "It will be easier for you to go out and play."
Group photo of the flower viewing party in the laboratory.
The atmosphere of the laboratory that changes imperceptibly
I heard from my predecessors that a long time ago, the tutor asked everyone to come to the lab at 9 o'clock, but everyone else arrived, but the tutor himself was very punctual. After running in for a while, the mentor finally waved his hand: "Forget it, I can't get out of bed." "So now we don't ask people to clock in.
At the University of Tokyo, not every lab is so lenient. I have a friend who clocks in to their lab 6 times a day: before 9 a.m., before and after lunch at noon, before and after dinner in the evening, and before and before going back. In addition, you are required to write a work report every day, and work at least 6 days a week. Although the school has a department for complaints, it is almost useless, and the tutors have a lot of power, and they can only endure it.
Cheerful and proactive, I and the Buddhist teacher were a special match. Since I am a foreigner and have no constraints on Japanese traditions, I can ask you to express anything you want to express as a representative.
Previously, the atmosphere in the laboratory was relatively serious, and the students were mainly traditional Japanese, and their sense of hierarchy was deeply ingrained. Everyone is "scared" of the teacher, and I can feel that everyone wants to play, but they can't let go.
After I learned Japanese mahjong, all of this changed before I knew it. Compared with Chinese mahjong, Japanese mahjong has a special set of rules, but in fact, it is not bad. When I found out that most people could play mahjong, I took the lead in organizing a game, and everyone responded one after another. I think that chatting while playing mahjong can also enhance everyone's relationship. Of course, we don't gamble, we don't even count points, but purely as a social activity.
When playing mahjong, the tutor will also pass by. I invited him to play with him, and although he often turned us down on the grounds that he was not available, he would play two when he was in the mood, and then he would spend more and more time with us. His poker skills are very good, the kind that can be won casually, and it turned out that he was very young, and he was addicted to it for a while in college.
Usually we play mahjong on Friday evening, so that after playing mahjong, we can also do other activities, such as drinking, having dinner, and singing. When we had a good time at dinner, the instructor would play with us. I also dragged him to sing with everyone at KTV, and when I sang, I mainly sang anime songs, and my mentor sang pop songs. I'm going to take him to throw darts next time, and he'll love it too.
Seeing that I brought the atmosphere of the laboratory to life, the instructor was very happy, and he felt that the laboratory should be such a relaxed atmosphere.
My tutors and teaching assistants not only accompanied us to sing K and play cards, but also cared about our lives and physical and mental health. After learning that I was diagnosed with COVID in 2022, they sent me an email asking if I needed help, so that I could rest at home for more than two weeks until I recovered. This year, I often feel back pain due to spinal problems, so my tutor used the funds to buy an electric height-adjustable desk for me, so that I can stand and work. They also often offered me to go out and experience new things, and they were quick to approve my leave of absence.
One thing I have to say is that my undergraduate teacher told me that you are not suitable for you to return to China for development in such a state as the University of Tokyo. Although the University of Tokyo has an outstanding reputation, they do not have the obsession of publishing top journals, but often publish some open access journals, so the number of journals and papers they publish is not very competitive with domestic universities.
I don't think they do research for the sake of publishing a top journal, but mainly out of interest, and they will only try to submit to the top journal if they find that the results are very good.
(All photos in this article are provided by the interviewee)