4, 3, 6, 5: On the importance of research assistants

I'm not dead, haven't sunk into a depression, and I haven't given up on blogging either. I promise. I've just been a little overwhelmed. Oh, and busy giving myself road rash while running. But anyway, whenever I get overwhelmed, I do what has worked so well in the past decade of academia, I man the hatches, hunker down, get 'r done, and pretty much fall off the face of the earth. Ask husband-dear, he's barely seen me in the past ten days. And if he hasn't seen me, you know it's bad.

In case you're expecting the standard "classes started and life got busy" spiel I give you guys twice a year, I can triumphantly tell you that that is not the case. Nope. Well, sure, having 70% of my advisees realize that, oh, hey, classes have started, and I'm not registered yet! didn't help, but it wasn't the crux of my absence. Nope. That can be blamed on the baby-drama, my new project, and Steve*.

First of all, everyone around me is pregnant. Honestly. If you're reading this, and you're not pregnant, you better be sure, because everyone else is. In fact, if you want to become pregnant, just make friends with me, and I guarantee you a pregnancy within six months to a year. Promise. Although after three-plus years after no-baby-gate, I'm really sort of OK with the no-baby thing most of the time, being surrounded by nothing but glowing, pregnant women has not been easy. So over Christmas break, when my period was on a three-month hiatus, and I was sick, sicker, and sickest, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, maybe-maybe-maybe, a miracle had occurred.  Well, obviously (as otherwise I would have probably been so excited I would have called each and everyone of you in person), there was no miracle. And although one would think one would get used to this sort of disappointment, this particular time was rough. It didn't help that even though husband-dear and I had not said a word about this to each other at all, when I asked him to add tampons to the grocery list because my period had started, he started to cry. In spite of knowing better, he had been hoping for the miracle too.
So to say that put me in a bad mood would be an understatement. Add to that the fact that my entire reader seemed to be overflowing with pregnancy/baby tales, and the fact that I believe in writing what you know while not wanting to write about this again, and you might see why my brief blogging break turned into a somewhat lengthy hiatus.

Then there is the new project. I mentioned this before Christmas break, and people, it's awesome. I'm only teaching two classes, and have been able to spend the rest of my time working on this new health communication initiative, designing outcomes, trying to understand NIH requirements, and talking to as many experts and interested parties as possible. As your classic type-A, overachiever personality, you can see how I can make this really big, really quick, and I did. The thing has got so much momentum, there are times when I'm not sure where to begin. People love the initiative, want to help, give feedback, collaborate, and OMG this could be huge if I just get everything done right now.
Right.
So lots of hours poring over ideas, spreadsheets, schedules, and research proposals, and a head filled with things to do, people to talk to, concepts to consider.

And finally, there's Steve. Or more accurately, there's a project Steve and I have been working on. We started it last semester, and because I apparently had a brainwave of awesome proportions before the summer, I commissioned a few research assistants. While Steve and I played with the questionnaire design, concept mapping, and data analysis, they collected and entered all the data for hundreds of respondents. It was awesome. Then the semester ended, the research assistants graduated, and Steve send me much-dreaded email, "The results are not clear enough. We need more data."
Steve, you see, works for a research institution. A place where people teach two classes per semester, if that. A place where there's an army of graduate assistants dying to help you with your projects. But the data collection is taking place at my institution, where everyone teaches at least four classes, and graduate assistants are hard to come by.
So I cussed Steve out, told him to get creative, but it was to no avail. He was right. We needed more data. With my research assistants out in the real world, and no new candidates, you can guess who has spent the better part of last week visiting lectures, administering surveys and entering lots and lots of numbers. Exactly. Me. The deadline we're trying to make is in two weeks, so we have some time, but still, the pressure is on.

So there you have it, three reasons why I've been somewhat absent. I will be back, I promise. But right now, I need to go print out my latest and greatest project outcomes for a meeting I have in ten minutes, after which I need to haul butt to administer surveys to three back to back classes.






*Steve, for new readers, is a former colleague who decided to head for greener pastures and get his PhD at a Big Midwestern University. After three years of talking to each other through our paper thin office walls, we continue our conversation through gmail chat and Facebook, and continue to produce mind-boggling important research. Sort of.