A summer placement doesn’t have to be brilliant to be worthwhile
The second summer of my undergraduate degree stands out in my memory as a glorious one. I spent two months on a lab placement in Switzerland eating cheap Toblerones, going on long walks through the countryside and looking up at a synchrotron in awe. This was my first taste of what it’s really like to work in research.
At the time, I had no intention of becoming a researcher. The reason I did a summer project was because it was a requirement of my degree; and the reason I chose that particular project was because it offered the chance to spend two months living abroad. (Victoria Atkinson has put together some advice for how to make more effective use of project opportunities than I did.)
At the time, I had no intention of becoming a researcher. The reason I did a summer project was because it was a requirement of my degree; and the reason I chose that particular project was because it offered the chance to spend two months living abroad.
But that lack of personal investment probably prevented me from finding my project a disappointment. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it, but it was very much an introduction to the unglamourous, frustrating side of research.
For one thing, a lot of it was more makeshift than I believed cutting-edge science ought to be. My first job was to bodge together a ventilated light-proof box for a microtensometer out of the materials in stock in the workshop – mostly door hinges, drawer handles and PVC sheets (and a lot of tape). This was a far cry from the multimillion pound machines that my previous tours of research labs had focused on.
And although I did get to hang around a synchrotron, I was only there for the building’s stable ambient conditions. While experiments in high-energy physics carried on around me, I stood next to an unused beam line with my ramshackle box, stretching tiny pieces of metal to see how they deformed. The research I was doing had the potential to be just as exciting as all that synchrotron science, but it was difficult not to think of it as a bit mundane in comparison.
And as it turned out, my research wasn’t groundbreaking after all. The strain effect I was investigating was in fact an experimental artefact – useful knowledge for the group, but also an unpublishable dead end. So while many people credit undergraduate summer placements with inspiring them into research, I returned home feeling fairly neutral about the experience: research wasn’t as exciting as I thought, but what job is?
And as it turned out, my research wasn’t groundbreaking after all. The strain effect I was investigating was in fact an experimental artefact – useful knowledge for the group, but also an unpublishable dead end. So while many people credit undergraduate summer placements with inspiring them into research (see p54), I returned home feeling fairly neutral about the experience: research wasn’t as exciting as I thought, but what job is?
I ended up doing a PhD anyway. Funnily enough, that turned out to involve a lot of making equipment from whatever was lying around the department and spending time on mundane experiments that produced little of consequence.
Maybe without my summer project experience I’d have found that disheartening. Instead, I felt at home – to me, that was normal research. That normalisation was the most valuable thing I could have got out of my placement. So perhaps it was successful after all.
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