Alternatively academic

Danielle is another excellent scientist that I’m happy to count as a friend. She’s smart, funny, interesting, and gives excellent advice on a wide variety of topics for which she is considered an expert. These topics include (but are not limited to): roller derby officiating, traditional cocktails, bird pheromones, and being a science boss lady. While her role is still very much an academic position, it is not a traditional position. As a result, she was happy to share her thoughts on “alternate academia”. 

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I get a lot of questions about my job, because although I am an established academic at a university, I am not a professor. My official title is Managing Director of the BEACON Center for the Study of Evolution in Action, headquartered at Michigan State University. My position is a blend of administration and research.

I am responsible for the operations of a multi-institution, multi-disciplinary NSF Science and Technology Center. We have over 600 members at 5 universities, and it is my job to ensure that all members have access to the resources they need, like cross-disciplinary training, seminars, funding opportunities, collaborators, and our annual conference. I am our primary liaison with our funder, the National Science Foundation. One of my primary responsibilities in that capacity is compiling and submitting our Annual Report, which typically runs well over 200 pages long and documents dozens of research and educational efforts, as well as our collaborations with industrial affiliates and efforts to increase diversity in STEM. I coordinate and run our annual NSF Site Visit, in which we spend a (very) full day presenting our research, education, diversity, and knowledge transfer efforts to a panel of external reviewers, who determine whether we are meeting our goals and decide whether to recommend that our funding be continued for the following year. I organize our annual BEACON Congress, a 3-day conference for our members and other interested visitors. This conference features concurrent tracks with contributed talks, member-organized symposia, workshops, and brainstorming “sandbox” sessions where people can discuss new ideas and collaborations.

These administrative activities account for about 70% of my work efforts. Most of my remaining time is spent on research. I maintain an active research program in evolutionary biology and animal behavior. I study chemical communication in songbirds, which involves both field and lab work and collaborations with chemists, microbiologists, and other evolutionary biologists. I supervise a postdoctoral researcher, and I have also served as the external member of two doctoral dissertation committees. Finally, I also do a fairly significant amount of service to the field, reviewing journal manuscripts and grant proposals and serving on NSF review panels.

How did I get here? Well, to be honest, I was initially interested in a more typical tenure-track career. I applied to well over 100 tenure-track positions over a couple of years, was invited to a handful of campus interviews, and received one job offer that did not suit my needs. After the last round of interviews, I had begun to sense that the realities of a tenure-track position did not match the career I had envisioned, and started to consider alternative paths. I was a postdoc at Indiana University at the time, and started looking around at the other researchers I admired there. I realized there were quite a few people involved in running research centers who appeared to have the perfect job, in my opinion anyway. I started thinking about looking for these kinds of opportunities, but I didn’t really know where to start.

Lucky for me, just a few weeks later, a job ad was posted on the Evol Dir listserve that seemed to be exactly what I was looking for – a brand new NSF-funded center was hiring a Managing Director. They wanted a person who was an active researcher in evolutionary biology, not a pure administrator, so that the person in this position could understand and communicate the science done at this center. I had no idea whether they would consider me even remotely qualified, but I worked harder on that job application than I ever had on any tenure-track application. I was invited to interview, and shortly afterwards they offered me the job.

It’s difficult to give advice to someone who is interested in a similar career, because there is no defined path, and there is no central resource to find jobs like mine. Often, these “alt-ac” jobs are what you make of them. I tell people to keep your eyes open and network as much as you can. If you are looking to make a career change, make sure people know about it. Graduate students are often afraid to admit that they don’t want a tenure-track job, for fear of “disappointing” their advisor. In my experience, most advisors just want their students to be successful, on whatever path they follow! Jobs like this are often not advertised as openly as mine was. If people know that you are looking for an opportunity, they will mention your name when they hear about such things. Things don’t always work out the way you think they will, and that can be for the best.

The down side of my position is that it has an end date. NSF STC funding lasts for a maximum of 10 years. We are currently in the second half of year 8. Where do I go from here? It’s too soon to know for sure, but there are a number of possibilities that interest me. At the top of my list is working for the National Science Foundation. I’ve learned a lot about how NSF works in my time here, and also through experience serving on proposal review panels. I am particularly interested in the STC program itself, as their model of facilitating collaborative “team science” is inspiring – and it’s working!

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Working deeply towards a more balanced life in academia

Sara Wilbur is a second-year master’s student studying hibernation physiology at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. In her previous life, she toured the country as a violinist with a folk orchestra called Patchy Sanders. Sara recently returned to her hometown of Fairbanks to be with family and to unlock the mysteries of telomere dynamics in arctic ground squirrels. She also enjoys delicious beer, knitting, and skijoring with her husky mutt.

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Deep Work by Cal Newport was introduced to me by Dr. Kevin Winker, curator of birds at the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ Museum of the North. I took a course from him in spring 2017 called Advanced Explorations in Genomics. In our last class of the semester, Kevin recommended the book to us nine graduate students and I followed his suggestion. The central message of the book is that focused, undistracted effort devoted to mastering difficult concepts efficiently produces work of true quality and value. In it, Newport discusses the social media time sink, busyness as a mask for true productivity, and how the ability to work deeply is a valuable skill in today’s economy.

I felt so inspired by Deep Work that I interviewed Kevin late July 2017 to discuss Newport’s ideas. Kevin is a kind, thoughtful person who provides an invigorating balance of support and challenge in conversation; talking with him was a pleasure. I left our chat feeling inspired to continue honing my focused working habits.

Sara Wilbur: Can you paraphrase Cal Newport’s definition of deep work? 

Kevin Winker: Scheduled periods of intense focus on a topic of interest. [Newport] is certainly not the first to recognize the importance of regular scheduling of intense focus to achieve a refined product when tackling complex mental tasks.

SW: If he’s not the first to describe this sort of work, why now write an entire book about it? 

KW: With increased electronic access to things like social media, computers, Google, etc., our lives and our attention spans have become much more fractured and there is a cost to be paid for that. We are constantly distracted and we are always interested in the next shiny object that passes by. Those environmental effects and that fracturing cause us to lose the ability to focus intensely on a single topic. And our brains love to be distracted, they love instant gratification, and that is something that has to be fought against to enhance quantity and quality of product.

SW: On your note that we’re predisposed to distraction, what I think, and what Newport describes, is that society actually encourages distraction via the importance placed on social media, instant email responses, etc. 

KW: Absolutely. You have to have the ability to control your immersion in it. It is difficult to control how much time you spend with those distracting things. Twitter is a fantastic tool for science and for social aspects. However, there is only so much time in a day, and how, in our business, are you going to be successful in producing the product that brings that success? Rigorously holding back those distractions becomes a critical skill. And it’s really hard.

SW: Newport has a section detailing how you can fit deep work into your life no matter what your schedule, lifestyle, or career. He thinks that no matter what your obligations are there is a way to regularly fit in periods of deep work.

KW: Yes. Schedule your time and follow through. It can be tough, especially with so many distractions. One of my career’s most important papers took nearly ten years to complete because it was an incredibly complicated problem. Simply beating my head against for years wasn’t necessarily solving it. That’s a nice thing I like about multitasking projects. Having Task “A” percolating in your brain when you switch to Task “B” can be quite helpful because it’s just sitting there, stewing, and sometimes new insights can just pop into your head.

SW: Yes. Newport is a big advocate for focusing singularly on a project. However, some complex problems get solved in your unconscious. You can pop it in back there and trust that your unconscious is going to work on it even after you’ve shifted your conscious focus to another project.

One thing I really like about the book is that Newport convinces us that deep work produces work of value.

KW: Yes, and quality of work is higher. You can still produce things of value in a fractured existence. I tend to reserve things like making tables and figures for times when my brain isn’t at its best. You can also create product of quality in a more fractured existence, but not product of complex quality.

Speaking of a more fractured existence, email is potentially a bottomless sink of potentially important and unimportant communication. I try to look at it just a few times a day.

SW: That can be hard to do. You have to turn off all the little dings that let you know when something new comes in.

KW: Never use them. Never use those. Ever! The first thing you do when you pick up a new piece of software is figure out how to prevent it from badgering you.

SW: I think email is a perfect example of what Newport calls “busyness as a proxy for productivity.” I could be sending high-quality, well-written emails all day. I would be making progress in terms of my communication with colleagues, but I wouldn’t be making progress with the nuts and bolts of my research.

KW: Right. Critical to recognize that.

I’m still learning how to be more productive, and how to be a better writer. I remember sitting down, talking with Terry Chapin [Professor Emeritus, University of Alaska Fairbanks], and I said, Terry, how are you so productive? He said, well, I keep a list. I said, gee, I keep a list too! [Pulls list out of pocket]. And I said, but how do you get so many papers done? And Terry said, I always keep something of mine at the top.

And that emphasized the fact that we can be so accommodating to others that we bump our own priorities in favor of satisfying someone else’s request. Terry’s key words there are that your projects have just as much priority as anyone else’s. Since then, I’ve been unembarrassed about my priorities being equal to anyone else’s.

SW: I was recently listening to a podcast interview with Newport and he said he doesn’t let his mood affect how he works. He doesn’t let how he’s feeling compromise his preplanned work schedule. I was curious what you thought about that, and to what level this is realistic and how one can find a healthy work-life balance.

KW: I agree with him. Deep work and productivity of the kind we’ve been talking about require a very strong commitment. That time you’ve set for yourself to work on things of high priority is so precious and you can’t bump it around. Didn’t he talk about training yourself to do this kind of work?

SW: Yes, he calls it deliberate practice, [where] you’re consistently, every day, training your mind to avoid distractions and to become comfortable with boredom.

KW: I love that. I’ve become a big fan of boredom. What I do when I am in a boring situation is bring out the series of questions in my mind that I’ve been waiting to work through and use that time to solve complex problems. I now look forward to boring times!

When you schedule that time that you know is precious, and that you know enriches your life and your life’s success, and you enjoy spending it, yeah, maybe it doesn’t give you the instant gratification that Twitter and Facebook and the internet would give you, but you know it gives you long-term gratification. So, buckle up and do it. Part of that discipline, that deliberate practice, part of making that work is doing it every day. Even with one hour every day, you can move a mountain with a teaspoon. You just have to go at that thing every day, with your teaspoon. You’ll feel so good with your progress and with the amount of material you can move.

My interview with Kevin was engaging and insightful. Our discussion further convinced me that to produce work of real value, I need to dedicate regular periods of intense, focused work on tasks that will advance meaningful progress. However, I left the conversation still curious about how effective work leads to fulfillment that seeps into your non-working life. Since starting my masters in 2016, I’ve been an advocate for working smarter, rather than harder. Some part of me knew that it was possible to make progress while still having a happy life outside of the lab. However, I felt surrounded by supervisors and peers who practice unsustainable work habits. How could I be sure that it was acceptable to allow myself consistent free time in the evenings and on weekends?

I found my answer in Deep Work. Newport advocates focused, intelligent work in the office. He suggests laying your work to rest at a reasonable hour and picking it up the next morning with a fresh, relaxed mind. Interestingly, however, Kevin does not seem to heed this bit of Newport’s philosophy. I asked him if deep work constrained between 9 am and 5 pm improved his overall quality of life, and he neatly sidestepped my question before moving on to another subject. Although he values smart work while on the job, he works very long hours, works at home, and works on the weekends. Perhaps his immense time investment in his work is fulfilling in and of itself. For me, I prefer and seek a balance, and found support for this personal conviction in Deep Work.

Being the non-academic boss lady

Dawn is one of the smartest, most dynamic, most interesting scientists I have ever had the pleasure of interacting with. Her decision to move into a non-academic setting started me thinking about making the shift myself. In summary: she’s been a role model and a good friend for a long time. When I approached her about writing a post for this series, she was happy to provide some thoughts on her experience.

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I have become the person my academic friends send their students to when they make noises about leaving the academia. I even have a piece out for Versatile PhD that delves into why I left; how I modified my resume and cover letters; and advice I’d give to those heading into non-academic positions. While my experience is captivating and illuminating, it is a singular event and no one should (have to) approach leaving academia by the seat of their pants the way I did. In fact, one of my biggest professional pet peeves now that I am entrenched outside of academia, is how non-academic job prospects are considered an afterthought. Or worse, when people think, “If my academic thing doesn’t work out, I’ll just get a job in industry,” but don’t consider what other skills they might want or need to develop to thrive in a career outside of academia. It is the anthesis of science, leaving something so important to chance rather than trying to control or at least be aware of all the variables!

I for one would have taken communicating my research more seriously and committed to doing it with intention and impact by enrolling in a marketing course and attending workshops on social media engagement, writing blog posts, and understanding google analytics. My first job out of academia was the Director of Conservation Education and Research at the Huyck Preserve and Biological Research station a 2,000 acre preserve in upstate New York. During my tenure I was not only responsible for connecting research activities to conservation and education programs, but I was also tasked with expanding the school field trip program to more school districts and growing the recreation program. I certainly figured out how to create and implement a marketing and communication plan for both programs, ultimately reaching five school districts and over 600 students with a research-based invasive species monitoring program and doubling guided hike attendance, but those skills were acquired while I was also figuring out how to write a curriculum suitable for K-12 students and pursing collaborations with local university students and professors to provide expert led guided hikes.

Did I mention at the same time I was also developing a high school research course from scratch and managing a research grant program? Because that’s where I could have used a finance or accounting course, helpful for when you are managing your own grants, an entire granting program, and for when you’re trying to determine the appropriate tuition to cover program expenses. Also handy for when you go head to head with the Board of Directors over the annual budget after getting promoted to Executive Director 2.5 years later. Speaking of boards, I would highly recommend a course on meeting facilitation. Robert’s Rule’s only scratches the surface and really doesn’t apply to entering a strategic planning process with a regional network of colleges/universities, non-profit preserves, and government agencies intent on informing regional sustainable management practices. I can also say that someone with facilitation skills makes working groups infinitely more productive placing you at the top of the list for research collaborations.

Oh, and before I forget, start talking to someone now about achieving work-life balance. I would like to directly challenge the wholesale statement that leaving academia leads to a life of leisure. It depends on the job, culture of the organization, and your personality. For example, non-profits, because they operate on charitable gifts, may not be staffed at capacity leading to a few people wearing many, many hats (case in point: Director of Conservation Education and Research, that kids, is three jobs in one!). I erroneously thought when I left academia that a majority of non-academic positions were 9-5 and then proceeded to work 50-60 hour weeks (80-90 Memorial through Labor Day) for five years because I loved what I was doing and there was no one else to do it. I wouldn’t have changed it for the world (well maybe a little) but it also wasn’t sustainable. I would have seriously benefited from a training on managing work-life balance so that I could have set boundaries for myself and my employers.

I know I am one data point and it’s easy for me to offer a list of courses and trainings now that I am done with school (although I frequently contemplate going back to school for my MBA) but my opinions are also colored by my newest position as the director of a postdoctoral fellowship program, NatureNet Science Fellows, and internal science professional development for scientists at The Nature Conservancy. I talk to a lot of people about what science professional development should look like within and outside of the Conservancy. If you must prioritize, science communication, specifically the ability to speak or write about your own research and identify appropriate outlets for outreach, ranks high on the list along with skills in project management, including budgeting and managing a team. After that, it really would behoove you to consider, “If I left academia, what job would I take and what skills would I need to succeed?”

 

 

No regrets

Dr. Wesley Loftie-Eaton is one of my favorite microbiologists. He has a flair for adventure, an impeccable sense of style and an entire outfit for “action adventure” purposes. In a former life he studied plasmids, and road his bike across various countries in Africa to raise awareness about antibiotic resistance. This his post as part of the “Academia to Industry” series. 

It has now been one year, almost to the day, since I made the switch from academia to industry. Do I regret it? Hell no!

I am South African and it is in my home country that I earned my PhD in Molecular Microbiology. It is also where I first started working as a postdoctoral scientist. But my desire to work abroad was huge. I soon moved to the USA to work as a postdoc and with the idea of landing a position faculty position in academia. Eyes on the prize, keep moving forwards.

However, science is not my only passion.  I have an insatiable wanderlust, am an avid outdoors person, incredibly social, and love making cinemagraphs (animated still photos). But all these were put on the back burner while I was in the US, and the latter completely fell away. I rarely did any of my other activities because I was spending all my time in the lab – until I heard a comment from our director; “If you are not in the lab working at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, then you’ll not get anywhere because somebody else is and that person will get the grant”. It’s then that I realized what it would cost me, personally, to stay in academia and I started thinking about my career differently. I am a scientist, but that’s not all that I am.

So when the time came I left academia (and the US) in pursuit of a work-life balance where I did not have to feel guilty about taking weekends for myself. I found this balance working as a Senior Scientist in the Research and Early Development Department of Roche Sequencing Solutions, Cape Town.  Now, when I go home at the end of my day, work stays at the office and my weekends belong to me again. In fact, work-life balance, stress management and other “soft skills” are regarded as important for the overall health and success of the employees and company. For that reason all our employees are presented with personal development courses on a regular basis. Unheard of in academia, right?

The best part is I still get to do exciting science. Sadly, I cannot discuss our research here for confidentiality reasons. That’s the worst part of the job. Not being able to share your discoveries goes against the principle of science. But I can tell you that we are working on developing a new single molecule DNA sequencing technology and I spend about 80 to 90% of my time in the lab working on my contribution to this effort. We also have weekly lab meetings specific to our research group, I get to attend international conferences and our department has regular journal clubs and seminars. Sounds pretty familiar, right? However, one of the biggest differences is that our directives come from the top, and your research is not your own, as it is in academia. But the scientific creativity with which we achieve those goals, remains our own. Creativity is encouraged and overall the research faces a much less constrained by budget.

In hindsight, when I was intent on a career in academia, I was blind to the possibilities in industry. I always felt that industry was a betrayal to science.  As a result, I only allowed myself to look at what possibilities existed once I realized that academia, in its current format, may not be the perfect fit for me anymore. I was very wrong. Science in industry can be equally as fun, stimulating and rewarding as in academia.

And, at the end of the day you have to ask yourself what you want, what you expect, and what you are willing to give up to enjoy what is important to you. Neither academia nor industry are perfect. I traded the scientific freedom to work on projects of my own interest, and to discuss my research openly for more freedom in my personal life. It has honestly been a worthy trade. But I don’t regret my time in academia. Had I not had the research experience and publication record, I probably would not have stepped into this research-intensive position as a Senior Scientist and probably then would have enjoyed industry much less.

So, looking back at how I got to where I am now, industry via academia, did I make the right choices? Hell yes!  

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Happy Birthday, Darwin! And Please Enjoy a Slice of Phylogenetic Fruit Cake.

Today is Charles Darwin’s 209th birthday.

In an earlier post, I explained how to prepare a special list of music to honor the occasion. In this playlist—a “phylogenetic playlist”—songs are named for organisms and are arranged in order to reflect the evolutionary relationships among these organisms. The Beatles’ “Blackbird,” for example, might be paired with Prince’s “When Doves Cry,” consistent with the fact that Old World blackbirds and doves diverged approximately 80 million years ago.

Music is a great way to start a celebration. But no birthday party is really complete without cake and ice cream, and I’d like to address that need today.

Let’s start with the cake.

Over the years, people have prepared many clever and beautiful cakes, framed as tributes to Darwin. One cake charts the 1831-1836 journey of the HMS Beagle, on which Darwin served as a naturalist, gathering specimens from around the world. Other cakes capture stages of human evolution, or recreate famous portraits of Darwin, or laud Darwin as a personal friend.

Any one of these cakes would make a fitting birthday centerpiece. However, in this post, I’d like to argue in favor of another possibility—something I call a “phylogenetic fruit cake.”

Cake

In a classic fruit cake—or fruitcake—fruits are mixed together randomly. In a phylogenetic fruit cake, in contrast, the arrangement of the fruits is decidedly non-random.

Much like the songs in a phylogenetic playlist, the fruits in a phylogenetic fruit cake are arranged to illustrate evolutionary relationships. Both are constructed using the same rules as a phylogenetic tree—a diagrammatic tool long favored by evolutionary biologists.

In any phylogenetic creation, species are arranged at the tips of branches. Points at which branches intersect represent common ancestors. Relative degrees of relationship—whether species A is more closely related to species B or to species C, or is equally closely related to both—can be inferred by comparing the number of shared ancestors.

Fruits are produced by flowering plants. Many species can be assigned to one of two divisions: monocots or eudicots. Within the eudicots, many fruits belong to one of two large categories: either the asterids or the rosids. Within the rosids, in turn, many fruits belong to the family Rosaceae; these include blackberries, strawberries, apples, and cherries.

These divisions reflect the species’ evolutionary histories, and can therefore be directly applied to the design of a phylogenetic fruit cake.

To build my fruit cake, I started with ten different species of fruit. (In some cases, I used slices, in other cases whole specimens.) I positioned these pieces on the upper surface of a frosted cake, with an eye to diagramming the fruits’ evolutionary histories. Write-on frosting served as my “branches.”

For example, bananas and pineapples are monocots. So, I paired the banana slice and the pineapple slice, using write-on frosting to delineate the connection. Kiwis and blueberries are asterids. So, I paired the kiwi slice and the blueberry in just the same way.

The remaining six fruits are rosids. They include grapes and oranges, in addition to the four Rosaceae species that I outlined above. In order to sort out these relationships more finely, I took advantage of divergence time estimates available at Time Tree.org.

Fruit Phylogeny

To tease out these relationships, I was especially reliant on Time Tree’s “Load a List of Species” option, which can be found at the bottom of the page. Here, you can upload a list of species in .txt format, and Time Tree will propose a tree.

As I positioned the fruits, I used Time Tree’s proposed tree as a model. According to Time Tree’s estimates, for example, oranges are more closely related to Rosaceae species than the grapes are, and so I positioned both accordingly. Time Tree’s estimates also led me to pair the blackberry with the strawberry slice, and the apple slice with the cherry.

My cake constitutes just one example of the form. If and when you make your own phylogenetic fruit cake, I’d encourage you to incorporate your own favorite fruits.

Whatever design you settle on, however, try to space out your fruits as evenly as possible on the cake surface. Remember: at the end of your Darwin celebration, you’ll want to cut up this cake, and distribute a slice to each of your party guests. To make this division as slick as possible, you’d ideally like to have one—and only one—piece of fruit per slice.

Here’s another pro tip: without special preservation techniques, exposed pieces of fruit will rot quickly. So you should either makes plans to finish this cake in short order (and if your party is big enough, this shouldn’t be a problem) or else be careful to refrigerate the leftovers.

Almost as essential as a birthday cake is birthday ice cream. And you can build a Darwin-worthy sundae using the very same skill set we’ve already discussed.

The example that I am presenting here contains the three basic flavors: strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla.

Ice Cream

Strawberries come from the genus Fragaria. Chocolate is produced from seeds of the plant Theobroma cacao. Both plants are eudicots. Even more specifically, both are rosids. So these two flavors are linked, using a pair of branches made of chocolate syrup.

Vanilla, however, is a derived from an orchid—a monocot. In this sundae, therefore, vanilla serves as the outgroup, and is positioned on an earlier-diverging branch.

What I’ve just described is a minimalist sundae. When you make your own sundae, I’d challenge you to incorporate some additional ice cream flavors, like pistachio, peanut butter, or peppermint.

You might also experiment with new ways to represent the branches. In my sundae, I’ve used chocolate syrup. But in your own sundae, you might try building your branches out of whipped cream or trails of sprinkles—just as you prefer.

Once the desserts are ready, it’s time to light the candles. If you’re feeling sparkly, you might position all 209 candles along the branches of your cake. (Imagine it: many lines of descent, lit up in 209 points of flame! What a gorgeous, gleaming, flickering tribute to make to the story of plant evolution! And to Darwin!) But if 209 candles feels too ambitious, you might settle for a simple “2018” candle. Or take clever advantage, somehow, of the fact that 209 can be factored into 11 and 19.

Either way, though: with the candles set, it is traditional to sing “Happy Birthday.”

To be clear: I am using the word “traditional” very loosely. Because, of course, “Happy Birthday” is anachronistic. It didn’t actually become a song until well after Darwin’s death.

Still, I think that, by now, any “true to Darwin’s time” principle has been thrown out the window.  In the playlist that I suggested previously, the oldest song was the 1967 “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane. Let’s remember, too: all of the molecular data, available at Time Tree.org, which was so essential in constructing these birthday creations, came well after Darwin’s time.

So, I am not personally inclined to sweat these things. I’d say: go ahead and sing, “Happy Birthday.”

On top of that: I think that the appropriation of modern birthday trappings is in many ways concordant with concepts at the heart of evolutionary biology.

The past has shaped us; the past defines us. But we live—we must—in our present environment, not in the long ago. Change happens. And the here-and-now is the only place in which we can make our way.

So, really? As long as our hearts are in the right place, I can’t imagine that Darwin would begrudge us a few modern conventions.

Ultimately, though: these are quibbles. Because at the end of everything: after all of the careful preparation, and all of the talk—and once the candles have been blown out—we come to what is arguably the very most important part.

That’s right: You get to eat it.

So, anyway: sing, or not—just as you care to. But, above all, dig in.

Because it’s going to be delicious.

Bio: Rachel Rodman has a Ph.D. in Arabidopsis genetics, and presently aspires to recontextualize all of art, literature, and popular culture in the form of a phylogenetic tree. Won’t you help her?