the questioner’s etiquette

October 10th, 2009 by julia 2 comments »

It’s really amazing to be amongst the intellectual community again. I realized how great this was after starting a discussion with a couple of fellow graduate students and having to confess that I frequently argue viewpoints with which I do not agree, for I love playing devil’s advocate. What made it amazing was the confession of one of the other participants: he was doing the exact same thing! I’d fallen in with people who could argue an opposing position. This may sound silly, but being able to set aside your personal beliefs and arguing the opposite side is not trivial. We must be able to put ourselves on the other side of the fence and try to figure out how those that live there would think. It doesn’t mean that you have to change your stance, but it does make your arguments stronger. You can then identify the weaknesses in your own arguments and strengthen them.

Still, we can take this too far. At what point do you stop arguing? Perhaps it is a personal weakness, but I will concede an argument for the sake of time and avoiding boredom rather than in the face of superior skill. I anticipate that this tendency would make me a poor congresswoman, since I get irritated with endless oratory (one may point out that this irritation does not extend to writing, I won’t be offended).

To take this point further, people need to consider this during presentations and talks. Will your question/quibble/comment further other people’s understanding of the material presented? If not, are you really just asking something for the sake of asking? Shouting to the world “Hey! I caught this issue in the presentation that you apparently did not!” can get irritating, quickly.

We’re all guilty here. Whether it’s at a conference talk, a developer specification review or a corporate meeting, we ask questions that probably do not need to be asked. Don’t think that I am contradicting the idea that there are no stupid questions. If you really have a question, by all means, ask! This addresses some other, less illuminating questions that are asked during presentations.

I’ll make a confession. Here goes:

I went to a research presentation a good while back. The topic was really interesting, and I thought that it would be an illuminating talk. However, it failed to meet any of my expectations. The research was probably sound, but while listening to the speaker, I kept revising the approach in my head. How would I have done this? I didn’t like their sampling of the population; how would I have made it less biased? So, what did I do?

Well, during the Q&A, I essentially “presented” my alternate setup (a big breach of courtesy) in the form of questions (frowned upon, but done fairly often). This poor presenter did not know what to make of it. Essentially, I was asking her to defend her own experimental setup from my experimental setup (which was one that had absolutely no data, so this is a completely irrational request). Not only was that unfair to her, but it was unfair to my fellow attendees, because I’m not the one they came to see! I was taking time away from her and her research that she could have used to answer pertinent questions.

Does this mean that my questions were not valid ones? No, but it was absolutely an inappropriate forum to ask them. The proper etiquette for something like this is to come and ask questions afterward, or to send them in an email. Most of the time, researchers are happy to discuss — they’re thrilled that other people are giving it serious thought! But no one likes being put on the defensive in front of an audience.

I cringe when I think about this talk. While I disagreed with pretty much everything presented, I expressed it in an inappropriate way. Take a lesson from me, and avoid finding yourself in this embarrassing position. Consider your questions before you ask them. Ask yourself:

  1. If I put myself in the shoes of the speaker, could I answer my own question? If you can answer it from your seat, you probably don’t need to ask it just to show that you thought of the question.
  2. Am I pointing out a mistake that’s easily recognizable as such by everyone here? If so, you’re nitpicking. Stop it. Kindly send the presenter an email after the talk and point it out so that she can rectify it for the next time.
  3. Why am I asking this question? If it’s anything besides genuine curiosity, kill the question. If you’re asking a question to which you know the answer just to see if the speaker can answer, you’re being a jerk. Stop it. If you have something valuable to add, please go ahead. If you’re confused, please do ask! As any professor can tell you, if you are confused, someone else is too and you would be doing them a favor by asking.

Playing the devil’s advocate is fun and thought provoking. However, it doesn’t really have a place in presentations. Questioning is a great habit to acquire, but please consider what’s appropriate and what’s just irritating and inconsiderate.

Sincerely,
a reformed (and apologetic!) questioner

a new adventure commences…

September 21st, 2009 by julia 1 comment »

Life. It’s frustrating, infuriating and incomprehensible for the most part. We set out on a path that typically progresses from high school to college to {life}! Yet, the word “life” is just a placeholder for something that nobody has ever defined to my satisfaction. People take such different paths to some ill-defined destination, that it’s almost impossible to follow any sort of precedent. We are truly on our own here. It’s liberating and terrifying at the same time. The only mistakes we can hope to learn from are our own. We must have the presence of mind to judge what is best for ourselves, and we must have the willpower to follow through with those judgments.

Early in the summer, I left my job as a software engineer to follow my dreams of working in artificial intelligence. I tell people that my goal is to build Skynet. In actuality, I want to develop systems that utilize AI to help people live their lives better. We have so much great technology out there already that could be applied better to real problems that people face. I am sure that there will be many posts to come that elaborate on the subject of AI and assistive technologies. However, this one focuses more on life changes and challenges that come along with that.

Don’t worry, I didn’t just leave my job. I was accepted to graduate school for my PhD in computer science, and elected to attend the University of Rochester for several reasons. First of all, they have an amazing department. The faculty here is top-notch, and I’m constantly in a state of awe and fear when seeing them in the hallway. I’ve just realized that I used at least one of the textbooks that a professor here wrote for one of my courses in undergrad. The research that happens here is just astonishing — sometimes I hear about the results and I think, “surely this is magic; no system I can envision right now has those capabilities!” Of course, I am only a mere three weeks in, and have much to learn.

However, despite the academics, research and tight-knit community, one of the deciding factors for me was the fact that they wanted to meet me before accepting me. If I have learned one thing in the past two years, it is that community is of the utmost importance. If you don’t like the people, it doesn’t matter how great the work is, you’re going to be isolated and miserable. Knowing that they think that interpersonal dynamics is important says a lot about the department and made my decision about which school to attend a whole lot easier.

But life. I loved the life that I left. I love my friends, my city and my coffee! There’s not a day that goes by in which I don’t question my sanity. Did I really give up the incredible happiness that I had in Seattle and exchange it for five to seven years of frustration, sleep deprivation and (let’s face it) grad student poverty? How on earth do I know if I made the right decision? I don’t think that I will ever really know. I’m trying for the best of both worlds here: to like what I do and love my life outside of what I do. The schoolwork that I’m doing right now is interesting, and I have some really awesome research prospects. However, I can feel the life that I had and adored slipping away from me.

My approach right now is to refuse to make that sacrifice. Of course, I will do my best at my coursework — that goes without saying. But I staunchly refuse to forget how to have (and actually have!) fun. Because, let’s face it, I’ll be a lousy researcher if I can’t remember that.

So here I am, on this new adventure. Wish me luck!