• John
  • Felde
  • UC Davis
  • USA

Latest Posts

  • USLHC
  • USLHC
  • USA

Latest Posts

  • Frank
  • Simon
  • MPI for Physics
  • Germany

Latest Posts

  • CERN
  • Geneva
  • Switzerland

Latest Posts

  • Aidan
  • Randle-Conde
  • USLHC
  • USA

Latest Posts

  • TRIUMF
  • Vancouver, BC
  • Canada

Latest Posts

  • Seth
  • Zenz
  • USLHC
  • USA

Latest Posts

  • Anna
  • Phan
  • USLHC
  • USA

Latest Posts

  • Alexandre
  • Fauré
  • CEA/IRFU
  • FRANCE

Latest Posts

  • Burton
  • DeWilde
  • USLHC
  • USA

Latest Posts

  • Jim
  • Rohlf
  • USLHC
  • USA

Latest Posts

  • Zoe Louise
  • Matthews
  • ASY-EOS
  • UK

Latest Posts

  • Ken
  • Bloom
  • USLHC
  • USA

Latest Posts

Posts Tagged ‘culture’

DPF 2011, tweet tweet!

Friday, August 5th, 2011

I know, I know, everyone has been focusing on the EPS and Lepton-Photon conferences (not to mention repeatedly putting in hyperlinks to their Web sites), but let’s not forget that the 2011 Meeting of the Division of Particles and Fields of the American Physical Society (DPF 2011, for short) starts this coming Tuesday. This will be the largest conference exclusively focused on particle physics in the United States this year, and it’s organized by the nation’s grass-roots membership organization of physicists, the APS. There are currently more than 450 people registered, so a large slice of the US particle-physics community will be there. This will be the fourth time that I’ve been to a DPF meeting, and I really do enjoy them — they are large enough to cover a broad range of topics, yet still small enough that you don’t get lost in the crowd.

For the first time ever, I find myself giving two presentations at the same conference — one on behalf of the CMS Collaboration (on the status of our distributed computing operation) and one on behalf of the D0 Collaboration at the Tevatron (on measurements of spin correlations in top-antitop production). On top of that, I’m also co-organizing a lunchtime panel discussion on “physics and the modern media.” What you are reading right now is a form of modern media, of course. We’re going to be talking with science journalists, communicators and bloggers about where communication about science is going…and what these sorts of people think of each other!

Since we’re going to talk about modern media, we figured that we should jump in with both feet, and that means Twitter. I must admit that I haven’t done much Twitter (although I do now have an account), but it seems to be all the rage. So, we’re encouraging Twitter users who will be attending the conference, and those who aren’t but want to keep up with what’s going on, to tweet away using the hash tag #DPF2011. If you are interested in the modern-media panel, feel free to tweet to us on Tuesday at 12:30 PM Eastern time; we’ll be keeping an eye on the feed and relaying interesting comments and questions to the panel.

More next week from fabulous Providence, Rhode Island!

Sorry, terrible title, as it references an ancient slogan for a now-defunct car brand. But what do you want — it’s the Friday before a holiday weekend!

Today marked the end of the June CMS week, one of three full-on collaboration meetings that the experiment holds each year. Honestly, I find these things overwhelming. It’s an opportunity to get a full view of everything that is going on within the collaboration. This spans detector operations, the trigger system, computing, plans for future detector upgrades, and all the data analysis that is taking place. Of course there is some talk about the challenges that we face — increasing luminosity, more complex event environments, the pressure to get results out promptly, the issues of keeping such a large collaboration organized and efficient. But we also get to see some of the best work that is being done by our collaborators. Some of the data analyses out there are really creative and clever, and you have to tip your hat to the people who are doing the work.

And I sit there thinking: Why am I not working on this myself? Actually, why didn’t I even know before that the work is going on? There are huge swaths of the experiment that I’m barely following, even though they are important. It’s somewhat demoralizing to have trouble keeping up with all the activity that is out there.

I console myself by saying that this is really an issue of scale. Consider the CLEO experiment at Cornell, where I did my PhD thesis about fifteen years ago. At the time it wasn’t the largest collaboration out there, perhaps half the size of one of the Tevatron collider experiments, but it was still substantial, with about 250 people on the author list. I could identify almost everyone in the collaboration on sight, I was reading pretty much every paper that went out, and I had a pretty good handle on what the hot topics were throughout the experiment.

So I need to keep some perspective and remember that these are different times and the LHC experiments are about a factor of ten larger than my thesis experiment. A single LHC experiment is now on the scale of 1500 PhD scientists, which surely puts it on the scale of a major research university. And who would expect to know everything that’s going on inside a research university?

Looking on the bright side, a group of scientists this large, all focused on the same goal, can really do amazing things. One of the amazing things is the ability to collaborate on these scales of both size and distance. But better still will be what we think and hope is coming — a revision of our understanding of how the universe works. It does take this many people to pull it off, and I shouldn’t be embarrassed by the fact that I don’t know what everyone is actually doing.

Perks of the job

Friday, September 17th, 2010

Life as a high energy physicist is not without its perks.  I recently got back from my latest trip to CERN for the EMCal test beam.  I spent about a week on the midnight to 8 AM shift and then stayed a week to work with some of my collaborators in ALICE.  The hours are long and the work is hard but the company is good and there are many perks.

I’m an avid hiker so I took a day off to go hiking in the Juras.  My friend Daniel organized it and we ended up with a group of two physicists from ALICE, one from CMS, one from ATLAS, and one from a university in France.  We had one American, one Brit, one Spaniard, and two Mexicans.  A multicultural group in many ways.  Here you can see the view from the Juras:

Somewhere down there is CMS.  It was a nice hike but next time I’ll pack my good compass and get my own trail map.  We had some unintentional adventures.

After my trip to CERN I went to a conference in Sicily – which means I had to work on a talk while I was at CERN.  Of course Sicily is beautiful:

(This is the view from Taormina during the excursion.)

Then I packed up and left, first to Geneva and then back to the US.  Five flights and four countries in two days.  My luggage made it through Paris to Atlanta but then decided to take a vacation in Atlanta without me.  I’m now looking at a grueling travel schedule in the next four months.  Plans have changed and our detector, the electromagnetic calorimeter, is going in during the Christmas shutdown.  This is great news but it also defines my holiday schedule – November and part of January at CERN.  On top of that I have a few meetings and some personal travel.  I’ll be lucky if I manage to be home for two weeks in December.  However, I did not get much sympathy from my father the other day when I was complaining about how I might have to get extra pages in my passport because I’m running out of space.  Go figure.

The cost of a PhD

Thursday, June 3rd, 2010

It costs a lot of money to produce a PhD scientist.  A rough estimate, based on my education:

  • Primary and Secondary education:  For simplification, let’s say I spent all of my k-12 years in Colorado.  Colorado ranks roughly 42nd in per-pupil spending, but it still costs $8,600/pupil/year for k-12 education.  Therefore, my high school diploma cost roughly $112,000.
  • Bachelor’s degree:  I went to Colorado State University for my undergraduate degree – a large state university.  Colorado State was a great bargain and when I started there, in-state tuition was roughly $2000/year.   Most of this was covered by scholarships, so was actually paid by some branch of government.  However, CSU spent roughly $20,000/student on undergraduates, with the difference made up from the general fund.  I spent five years in undergrad, so just the tuition for my degree was worth roughly $100,000.  Fort Collins, CO was pretty cheap to live and I was an overwhelming cheapskate.  My cost of living averaged about $10,000/year, adding another roughly $50,000.  Additionally, I participated in four summer undergraduate research programs.  One program was at CSU and my participation (salary and other expenses, excluding the salaries of my supervisors) cost roughly $4000.  One program was at UNC Chapel Hill and I got paid $3,000 plus room and board and transportation to Chapel Hill, so this cost roughly $5,000.  One program was in the Netherlands for five months and this probably cost roughly $10,000.  One program was in Switzerland for two and a half months and this probably cost roughly $10,000.  So the cost of my supplementary training as an undergraduate was roughly $29,000.  Therefore the total cost of my undergraduate degree was roughly $179,000.
  • Doctorate:  The average time in graduate school in physics in the United States is six years.  I spent six years and two months in grad school.  Grad students in physics don’t pay for their tuition, but tuition is paid to the university by the grant.  At Yale, my tuition was about $20,000/year.  In addition, my stipend, my supplementary salary from teaching, the cost of my health insurance, and overhead added up to at least $40,000/year.  This adds up to at least $360,000.  On top of that, I took trips to conferences and to take shifts.  My travel for my research definitely pushed the cost of my graduate degree to at least $400,000.

Therefore my PhD cost roughly $691,000.  This is not a precise calculation and one could certainly quibble with details.  I’m sure that people with more knowledge about grants would say I’m actually underestimating a lot of costs.  A PhD at Yale is probably more expensive than at other schools, but it still easily costs well over half a million dollars to produce a PhD.  That’s a huge investment for society to make in a person – and I’m very grateful.

I benefited significantly from scholarships and grants.  Other than paying taxes like everyone else, my family and I probably paid less than 5% of that cost.  Some costs were picked up by private organizations through grants, awards, and scholarships, but most of it was paid for by some branch of the government.  My teaching, tutoring, and research does have economic value – I don’t see myself as a leech on society – but I do owe my education and the opportunities I’ve had to the kindness of taxpayers.  If we did not live in a society that at least strives to create equal opportunities for all, I would not be where I am.  Because of the debt I owe society, I feel it is my responsibility to give back – to use my education to explain what I do to the public and to help inspire and train the next generation.

At the same time, society benefits from having highly educated people.  I am doing basic research that will most likely not lead to a marketable product in my lifetime.  But basic research is crucial to future economic developments.  Research in high energy particle and nuclear physics has led to cheaper and better particle detectors which can be used for medical technologies.  CERN played a crucial role in the development of the internet – certainly more than Al Gore – and it still does.  All of the experiments at the LHC use a computing infrastructure called the grid and developing the grid took substantial improvements in networking and distributed computing.  Studying the Quark Gluon Plasma will not directly feed the hungry or cure cancer, but we move the boundary of what is possible and this benefits humanity.

Hi, Seth here.  It’s been a while since I’ve written about my work, mostly because my work lately has been time-consuming and a bit complicated to write about.  Nevertheless, I’m going to take a stab at it.  About two weeks ago now, I gave a talk at the APS conference (which Regina gave a talk at also).  Preparing for the talk was a more challenging process than I had expected; I knew what I wanted to say, but what I showed also had to fit within the goals of ATLAS as a whole.

I had originally written in my abstract for the talk that I was going to describe the method for my track jet measurement, but I had always hoped that I would be able to show some initial collision data in order to demonstrate things were going well.  And indeed, I had that data, and things looked pretty good to me.  But of course, when any ATLAS collaboration member shows the results of our work outside the experiment, we are relying on years of hard work by thousands of people, and we are speaking for everyone in the experiment.  That means that my colleagues had a say, as they should, in what I would show in my talk and how I would show it.

Showing my plans and simulated results wasn’t a big deal, in part because ATLAS has special rules for “work-in-progress” by students. But there were definitely questions and discussions on whether we ought to show plots based on real collision data.  Let me summarize a few of the potential issues:

  1. My talk was very early.  Except for an initial flurry of quick plots right when we got first data, ATLAS is showing its next round of more polished plots of detector performance in March. Did it make sense to release some of that work ahead of schedule?
  2. Was there time to make sure my results were correct?
  3. My own plots rely heavily on the work done for our experiment’s first paper, the “minimum bias” analysis.  (It shows the distributions of charged particles in our detector, including as many events as possible — hence, “minimum bias.”)  That paper isn’t out yet (but the one from CMS is).  Did it make sense to show work that depended on other, not-yet-published work that might change?

These are important questions.  Some of my collaborators thought the answer was yes and some didn’t, and the resulting discussions took time and energy.  In the end, I did get to show some of what I wanted, but not all of it.  I can’t say I was completely happy about that, but I did end up getting to show some of my work only a few months after we collected data, and that’s cool.

I fully agree with the need for ATLAS to have a set of procedures to make sure that our work is presented appropriately and that it’s correct.  A big experiment relies on consensus, so obviously I won’t always be completely satisfied with the outcome.  As as an experiment, we’re also still in the process of figuring how to apply those procedures now that we have real data to discuss.  It may not have been easy, but reaching agreement on my talk was an educational experience.

The plots from my APS talk aren’t posted anywhere, but you’ll get to see improved versions of them soon —  I’ll let you know.

Learning French

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

From a grad student in particle physics, these are my recommendations for learning a bit of French.

Before You Know It

Screen shot 2009-11-17 at 11.22.21 AM

I’ve tried out several language programs, including really expensive ones like Rosetta Stone.  Out of them all, this flash-card program has been my favorite. With each card there is a picture and sound recording of someone pronouncing the word or phrase. It quizzes you on cards and repeats ones you get wrong.

The free version lets you download sets made by other people from the main site, and also comes with a handful of card sets.  The paid version gives you a few thousand cards and lets you make & record your own flash cards and upload them to the site for others. It cost me about $50.

(I should find a native speaker and create a useful set of cards for physicists who come to CERN…)

http://www.byki.com/

Les Nombrils

couv3Dtrans

As a comic book about girls in high school, I do feel a little weird buying these, but they’re so funny and filled with a lot of French I never learned in textbooks or class.

This has been my favorite source to learn modern slang or just informal phrases and such.  Words I’ve learned include: mec for “guy”, biche for “girl,” hyper-top for “cool” (I think?), and caleçon for “boxers (shorts).”  A mini-jupe is a mini-skirt.

So if you’d like to learn informal French related to relationships, clothing, teenage life, or the like, check out these comic books.

Alright, I’ll admit it: I own the whole series.

http://www.lesnombrils.com/

Coffee Break French

Screen shot 2009-11-17 at 12.17.26 PMI download these podcasts and listen to these when I’m driving. They’re slow and clear and leave space for you to try pronouncing words and phrases yourself.  With this you can learn about simple things as well as more complicated topics like tense and grammar.

These are definitely more useful when you are alone and can talk out loud without looking weird.

http://radiolingua.com/category/shows/coffee-break-french/

Using Facebook for Physics

Wednesday, August 19th, 2009

Often in my day-to-day work I encounter some little problem in software or mathematics that I figure somebody ought to know the answer to.  In my years as a graduate student, I’ve learned that the quickest way to solve these problems, if a cursory search of the internet and a few standard references doesn’t help, is to actually go around the office and ask the people I know who work around me.  Sometimes they don’t happen to know either — but I can’t shake the nagging feeling that somebody I know knows how to solve the problem.  My solution to this, on a few recent occasions, has been to turn to Facebook.

Thus last Thursday afternoon, my Facebook status was:

Seth Zenz needs a statistician. Or anyone else who knows how to find the error on a correlation coefficient.

Within a couple hours, two of my friends, one a physicist and one a friend from college, had replied with the correct answer, which turned out to be explained on Wikipedia — which pointed, in turn, back to the original statistics paper from 1921 that answered the question.   So Facebook is good for more than just keeping up with my friends; it also expands the size of “the office” I can go around to ask questions in!

Curveballs are Fun

Friday, December 19th, 2008

We’re not big fans of rigid hierarchy in academia, not even on big experiments like ATLAS with multifarious coordinators and project leaders.  On the one hand, this means that nobody ever gives me orders — but on the other hand, it does mean that there are a lot of people who can give me “strong suggestions.”  And sometimes one of those people decides to throw me a curveball…

Friday was a day of two work days.  First I worked a pretty normal eight hours debugging code, then spent the evening at a few holiday parties before heading to the ATLAS Control Room at 11 PM for an eight hour shift.  After I arrived, while waiting for the expert running things to let me do my shift so he could go home and get some sleep, I found an email in my inbox which had been sent only that evening.  It asked me to give a talk at the ATLAS Inner Detector-wide meeting about the activities of the Pixel group over the previous week.  All of the work to be discussed had done by others rather than me, and some of it I hadn’t even been aware of — and the talk was on Monday.

I had never received a request like that before, but believe it or not, I’m not complaining.  Yes, it was rather short notice, but it wasn’t even a strong suggestion, really — I was allowed to opt out if I didn’t have time.  But more importantly, after I thought about it, I decided that giving the talk was entirely a good thing for me.  There are a couple of reasons I can think of to give an inexperienced person the responsibility of summarizing the work of the whole Pixel Collaboration.  One is to give everyone who’s done work on the Pixel Detector a turn to make their participation visible to the wider Inner Detector community, even if their work contributed only indirectly to the material being presented.  (In my case, the contributions were taking shifts and writing tools for analyzing calibration scans.)  Another is to give the person giving the talk the opportunity to learn more about the broader work on the detector.

In my case, it was an opportunity I had to take quickly, so I sprung into action: I checked the agenda for Monday, found that the meeting wasn’t until 3 PM, and decided I could delay the writing of the talk itself until Monday morning.  I did look at the list of topics to cover during my shift, and asked a few questions; then I printed out all the supporting material on Sunday night.  But otherwise I continued with my weekend as scheduled.  This required Monday to be a very productive day: I got up at 6:30 AM to start reading everything I had printed out, then got intto work by 8:30 am and started writing.

Most of the slides were summarized from elsewhere, or even provided for me.  The most important part of what I had to do was to understand what was on them, so that I could provide context for the work and avoid sounding like an idiot if I had to go “off script.”  The way I think about it was that the people who had done the studies had given me intermediate-level information to present, and nobody would expect me to answer really hard stuff during a summary talk, but that I absolutely had to have a command of the basic way in which the material I was presenting fit into the broader picture.  I needed some help with that, and got plenty of it, from the experts who did the original work as well as from the person who asked me to give the talk.

By 3PM, I was ready, but also nervous about talking in a new venue and in front of new people.  I hadn’t given myself time to be nervous up until that point, but I had plenty of it while watching the other four talks ahead of mine.  My strategy during the talk itself was to try to sound confident that I understood everything, unless I actually didn’t know something and had to punt questions to the other pixel people in the room — which it turned out I never did.  In the end, in fact, I was told the talk was clear and went well.   So I suppose I managed to hit the curveball, and it definitely made for a more exciting Monday than usual!

I’ve been meaning to write a quick note thanking people for their comments on last week’s post about tracking.  When I spend a lot of time on making sure a post really explains something well, it means a lot to me to know that my effort succeeded.  (A note to readers who happen to be my advisor: I didn’t spend too long on it, I swear.  And anyway I was waiting for my code to compile.)  So, thanks!  While I’m here, I figure I might as well share an observation that occured to me while reading the comments, and then answer a question that was asked.

First the observation.  In my experience, if you go to a baseball game and point out that the people on the other side of the stadium “look like” a particle tracker for the ball, your friends stare at you as if you’re crazy.  And yet, if you write about particle physics and manage to compare it to baseball, then it goes over rather well as a feat of science explication.  I conclude from this that the trick to being a tremendous nerd while still being cool is to manage expectations; get your audience to expect you to be an even bigger nerd than you actually are, and they’ll be impressed.

Second, the question: Didi Mouse asked who gets to name any new particles we find.  The answer is that we don’t actually know yet, but it depends on what’s out there.  Many particles — for example, the Higgs boson — have been named already; if we make a discovery that looks more or less like a Higgs boson, we’ll call it a Higgs boson.  There are also theories that predict lots of new particles; often those particles are all named, but according to some regular rule.  For example, Supersymmetry predicts a new particle for every known fundamental particle.  The superpartners have the same name as the original, but with an “s” in front for some spins, and an “ino” at the end for others; electron becomes selectron, quark becomes squark, photon becomes photino, gluon becomes gluino, and (my favorite) W becomes Wino.  If we were sure we’d found Supersymmetry, we’d probably keep those names, but we won’t be sure at first what new theory the particles we’ve found fit into — so what will we do?  I expect the decision will be made as part of the experimental collaborations’ processes for writing and approving papers, because the name for a new particle usually comes from the paper that announces the discovery.  As far as I know, nobody has specific plans for how to handle the naming, but it is a problem we will be delighted to have.

I’ve been thinking about it since this yesterday, and I’ve finally decided to take the plunge: I’m going to say a few words about the blogosphere debate on the CDF “ghost muon” paper.  I know that, by the demanding standards of the Internet, this is old news; the posts that started the mess were an eternity ago, last week.  In my defense, I have been traveling for the entire time, to Berlin and a few cities in Poland, in what now seems a confused blur of night trains and buses.  And in any case, I think my comments are universal enough that they’re worth making even if the debate is starting to die down.

I have relatively little to say about the paper itself, which was submitted last week but is not yet published.  Very briefly, the paper discusses a series of particle collisions seen by the CDF detector at the Tevatron Collider at Fermilab that appear to possibly contain muons which decayed from a very long-lived unknown particle — or maybe there’s a less dramatic explanation, and nobody’s figured it out yet exactly.  If you haven’t heard about this at all, I strongly recommend you go to Cosmic Variance for a more substantial summary.   One very big debate on the paper is whether it ought to have been submitted for publication in its present form; many experts who I know personally say that CDF should have been more careful in investigating the possible sources of the signal before publishing, and much of the CDF collaboration (including my colleagues at Berkeley) chose to take their names off of the paper’s author list.  The counter-argument, which won the day in the collaboration’s final decision, is that everything that could be done had been done, and that it was time to send the work out to the wider particle physics community to see if the signal could be understood and duplicated by other experiments.

A second “debate” is much more disturbing, centering on speculation that a group of theorists had written a new theory based on inside information from the paper before it was published.  When the group denied this, Tommaso Dorigo (who works on CDF and CMS) accused them point-blank of lying.  The exchange, originally in blog comments, is summarized here by Dr. Dorigo.  Although he qualifies his accusation a bit, he seems to stand by it and even reiterates it in the process of apologizing.

This kind of in-your-face accusation goes beyond the appropriate boundaries of professional discourse.  It seems to stem the bizarrely-prevalent idea that being really obnoxious in public is normal, as long as it’s on the Internet.  Would you, dear reader, put up a poster calling your boss an idiot, or give a newspaper interview in which you speculate that one of your coworkers is a liar?  No, you wouldn’t!  And nothing changes because our job happens to be physics, or the venue happens to be the World Wide Web.  Of course we all have the right to free speech, but what we choose to say has consequences; others have the right to choose whether or not to collaborate with me, whether at the personal level or the level of a large-scale experiment, and one thing they can and will think about is whether I’m going to publicly insult them.

One of the theory paper authors, Professor Nima Arkani-Hamed, wrote a several part response to these accusations, but one part of his comment really struck me.  It was about the physics blogosphere as a whole: he called it “brown muck” and said that he has “a very dim view of the physics blogosphere, and avoid[s] interacting with it.”  Upon reflection, this is a fair comment.  Many — though by no means all — of the physics blogs seem to spend a disturbing amount of time on personal “clashes” between “epic” personalities.  The ultimate example of this is found in the insults exchanged between Peter Woit and Lubos Motl, each of whom command large opposing followings (at least on the Internet) in the so-called “String Wars.”  The problem is that their extreme viewpoints and aggressive tactics don’t reflect what most physicists think about the issues; their drama, like these latest accusations about the ghost muons, is largely manufactured for consumption by the blogosphere.

I would like to think that the US/LHC Blogs offer a different vision, one that falls outside of Dr. Arkani-Hamed’s criticism.  We are, first and foremost, an outreach site.  We seek to explain the excitement of our work — the wonder of the Laws of Nature we’re trying to investigate, and the fantastic machines that we use for that investigation.  Of course we tell you about our lives in the process, to give you an understanding of what our work really involves.  We want to explain what our work means to you and why it’s worth your tax dollars, and we want to get young people excited about learning and maybe getting into careers in science.  Of course we also have interpersonal conflicts, nasty suspicions, and hallway rumors — just like anybody does — but in my opinion we’re not here to tell you about that stuff for two reasons: first, because all that nonsense is not what’s essential or exciting about our work, and second, because we owe our colleagues (and potential colleagues) the courtesy of not being rude to them in public.

I hope those of you who read our blog are looking for the stories that we think are important to tell; if not, sadly, it appears that you have a wealth of alternatives to choose from.  But I have been wondering about something, and in the words of Tommaso Dorigo, “I should like to open a poll for those heroic readers who came to the bottom of this post.”  Do you think all this infighting is valuable to know about?  Does it help the overall cause of expanding interest in, and knowledge about, our work?  (In fairness, Dorigo, Motl, and Woit are also known for writing very informative posts about subjects within their expertise.)  Or does the partisan warfare and discourtesy simply serve to distract readers seeking real knowledge?

You know my opinion on those questions, but I’d like to hear yours.  Until then, I’ll leave you with the words of Nima Arkani-Hamed: “I’m sure you’ll agree that there is more critical physics to do than there are hours in the day to do it, and I for one would like to get back to work.”