Reflection
In searching through PubMed and Google
Scholar for journal articles on the biomedical innovation of my
choice (the toothbrush), I encountered several issues which may be an
obstacle for my students in completing their own research. First and
foremost: search domain. The toothbrush is, not surprisingly, a
rather common place object and is found as a tangential reference in
an almost innumerable number of research articles. Think the
toothbrush might not play a central role in modern scientific
investigations? Think again. The toothbrush is everywhere. I was
shocked. Flabbergasted, even. But determined to succeed, I strove
onwards. I dived deeper into the ever-darkening layers of research,
stumbling blindly through articles of increasing intellectual
complexity, past heat-treatments of bristle nylon, brushing away
hanging studies of the effectiveness of counter-stroking in removing
plaque, narrowly avoiding the pitfalls of stess-tests on newly
developed thermoplastics, before finally arriving at the deepest,
darkest, and most convoluted toothbrush-related topic: strategies for
microbial disinfectant. The destination reedeemed the journey. Here
was the golden chalice of knowledge, held high above the glowing
pewter altar of thesis defenses, shining brightly down on the
grumbling, slithering, irrelevant malignancies of the undergraduate
research world. Microbial disinfectant. Even now, my heart beats
rapidly in excitement at the sound of those syllables; those ever
smooth constants draped in the senseless and endless finery of vowels
as smooth and forbidden as mother's silk gabardine. Microbial
disinfectant. Surely this was the destination I had dreamed of, the
draft that would satisfy my seemingly unquenchable toothbrush thirst.
But I was not the challenger to be. I
was not the one assigned the heavy mantle of responsibility, not the
carrier of the streaming standard of research and inquest, hoisted
high above the flaming fields of academic ignorance and inevitable
financial insolvency. No, I was the fervent lieutenant shouting words
of encouragement across the trenches to those noble few whose
obligation was absolute, whose task was clear: my students. It was
they who would have to trudge through the increasing horrors of
PubMed, following the thin trail of toothbrush bread-crumbs which
narrowed in places to a knife's edge. How would they fare? How could
they survive such calamity?
Again, the answer is domain.
“Toothbrush” is too general, too vague. The jungle is too vast,
and the search party too tiny. What they have in courage, they more
than neutralize with their poor vocabulary skills, pitiful research
experience, and predilection for distraction. They will take one step
into the vast abyss and then retreat, their eyes searching wildly for
some Drake-related succor, their hands fumbling blindly for their
phones. No, the search would need to be narrowed to something far
more specific. To ensure success, my students would need to focus on
a specific aspect of the toothbrush (the handle or the bristles) and
by focusing their efforts thus exponentially magnify their individual
strengths.
To this, I will give them a special,
secret, and additional weapon. Forged in the hot embers of the
faculty lounge, I will give them: keywords. By including terms such
as “biomedical”, “medical”, “health”, or “safety”,
the path would be made smoothers, the dangers of the journey further
tamed. These words would push the darkness away from the journeymen,
and save our sacred fellowship. I know this, for I have tried myself.
It is with these strategies that I will
aid my students in conquering that unknowable fear. The ominous and
grating fear. The fear that resides deep in their hearts, and also in
my own. The fear of PubMed.
Here's a picture of my bike at a rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike:
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