Hey! Thanks a lot for checking this out!! I thought this might be a good space to start a lab discussion, so that you (ex-labbers aka Senior Research Assistants) can impart your knowledge to you (current labbers). So I've deleted all my postings but for one that I thought you might enjoy, just to get the ball rolling. The take-home message in that one is: make sure your clothes are not in the line of fire (or spit, in this case).
I was also hoping to get some comments from you about how you liked working in the lab, whether you feel that you learned and what you learned, and - most particularly - what you thought about working with me. I'll be applying for jobs very soon, and these would be my evaluations, so it would be really helpful if you could tell me what you liked, what you learned, and what I should improve. Feel VERY FREE not to sign these evaluations, that is, post it as anonymous. And email me if you need help setting up your blogger's account or something.
And thanks, y'all, for a wonderful summer - and surely a delightful fall!!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Ah, the joy of working at a BabyLab!
Someone said to me once that they considered an absolutely basic requirement of a lab that at least half of the people involved in it be potty-trained. I don't need to inquire into my labmates' intimate habits in order to know that my lab probably does not fulfill that requirement, since every single one of our subjects is suspected of (or sensorily confirmed) not to have any control over their own sphincter. But I respect that.
Some of the kids further regale us with processed food coming out from the other end, the one that you should not cover lest you are ready to face accusations of infantile mistreatment. And some of the people I work with have developed a strategy to deal with it, by imposing an unsurmountable distance between the self and the puking one. And insurmountable is a few feet when the opponent walks yet not. But not I, alas, and I often feel that, in order to get a precious autograph from the parents, I should at least free their hands by entertaining the young subject.
So there I was, making cute sounds and balancing the little person on my professional knee, when Baby Mason looks at me in the eye, gives a sly smile, and blurps all over my recently washed jeans. 'HAH!, chuckled the mom merrily, and now you're going to stink all day!' I'd like to think that at least she says the same to Mason when he does it onto himself.
And, sadly enough, she was right.
Some of the kids further regale us with processed food coming out from the other end, the one that you should not cover lest you are ready to face accusations of infantile mistreatment. And some of the people I work with have developed a strategy to deal with it, by imposing an unsurmountable distance between the self and the puking one. And insurmountable is a few feet when the opponent walks yet not. But not I, alas, and I often feel that, in order to get a precious autograph from the parents, I should at least free their hands by entertaining the young subject.
So there I was, making cute sounds and balancing the little person on my professional knee, when Baby Mason looks at me in the eye, gives a sly smile, and blurps all over my recently washed jeans. 'HAH!, chuckled the mom merrily, and now you're going to stink all day!' I'd like to think that at least she says the same to Mason when he does it onto himself.
And, sadly enough, she was right.
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