In my last post I discussed the different ways that journalists and scientists deal with information. Frantically searching for a headline story by the day’s deadline, journalists look for the sexy side of a scientist’s research. In the process, journos may distort the meaning of the research or leave out so much detail that the story loses credibility.
Last week I attended a scientific conference (I won’t name which one), during which I realised that scientists could really learn a thing or two from journalists.
Most scientific conferences have the same format. They start with the obligatory tea and coffee in the morning before the motley crew of researchers file into the auditorium for the first talk of the day. Sessions often start with a keynote speaker, selected to talk at length (usually an hour) about their chosen field of research and take questions at the end of the presentation. The session then continues with a series of shorter talks (usually 15 – 20 minutes) by other researchers and postgraduate students. There are generally two to three sessions during each day, stopping for morning tea, lunch and afternoon tea.
I always arrive at the first day of a conference pretty excited, both nervously anticsipating presenting my own work as well as keen to hear what others having been doing. By the end of the first day I wonder what it would feel like to stab myself in the eye with the pen that comes in the conference pack. Or I start perfecting ways of sleeping inconspicuously at the back of the lecture theatre. Or starting writing this rant for my blog...
While journalists may leave out some of the detail in a story, they do so in the interest of interest, so to speak. A newspaper or TV news bulletin is a compilation of many stories about very different topics and these stories compete for the attention of the audience. Unnecessary detail may make the reader turn to the social pages or the viewer change the channel, and the story doesn’t reach its target.
Scientists, on the other hand, are so intimately involved in every step of their work and seem to be emotionally attached to every tedious detail. Reporting detail is crucial in peer-reviewed publications, but excruciatingly painful detail is unnecessary and completely undesirable, in my opinion, when presenting at conferences or to any general audience.
Particularly boring, and unfortunately very typical talks at science conferences are delivered with an audible lack of enthusiasm, which is an automatic turn off to any audience. Your voice is your major asset when giving a presentation, and you should at least try to sound excited about what you are talking about.
I have heard a certain science communicator describe Microsoft Powerpoint as the worst thing that has happened to science conferences. The initial concept of using Powerpoint was that it should complement a science presentation, but more often than not it has become a crutch to the point that the presenter is lost without their slides. This becomes embarrassingly obvious if the powerpoint presentation malfunctions, and the researcher is left literally speechless.
An audience is all too often forced to decipher huge tables of data in tiny font flashed up for a few seconds while trying to follow a shaky laser pointer dot racing in circles across the screen. Speakers use too much jargon in places where simple language could suffice, and I think presenters can appear arrogant when they deliberately and unashamedly go over their allotted time.
I can totally understand that some speakers, especially students, are relatively inexperienced at giving talks and are often terribly nervous. But I am always dumbfounded when professors, leaders in their field for decades, ramble on in illogical presentations full of jargon and indigestible information. At this most recent conference I attended, it was the keynote speaker, a distinguished professor who received a medal acknowledging his amazing contribution to the field, who gave the most painfully boring talk. By halfway through the hour we were passing notes to each other like school kids in class, until finally we raced out of the lecture theatre to get to the infinitely more exciting scones and biscuits at morning tea.
The best talk of the conference told an enthralling story about the forensic science used in the O.J. Simpson murder trial. While I realise that this topic is inherently interesting, the presenter had obviously prepared his talk very well, telling a logical and exciting story and using lots of anecdotes and well-delivered humour. The style and confidence of his presentation told me that he took great pride in the message of his research and that he had taken the time to make sure that the message reached as diverse an audience as possible. I really respected him for that.
Poor preparation not only shows a distinct lack of respect and consideration for the audience but sells the scientist and their work short. Conferences are an invaluable opportunity for networking and to introduce your science to others who would otherwise be unlikely to read your publications. I think it is a real shame and a wasted chance when groundbreaking research is presented poorly. Poor communication at conferences not only leaves a bad first impression, but it hinders the potential for future collaborations because the real message of the research never reaches the intended audience.
There has always been the unfortunate stereotype of scientists being social misfit lab rats. I won’t deny that this stereotype is well founded, since there are definitely a few of these personalities lurking in the hallways in my department. But for those of us who would like to avoid the stigma of the science nerd enigma, we need to ensure that we can effectively communicate our work to a diverse audience in an engaging and entertaining way. And what better place to start improving our presentation skills than at conferences - pretty please?
