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M.D.-Ph.D. Program Harvard Medical School Fall 1998 Newsletter
Articles in this issue:
Diversity, Excellence Define New Arrivals
by Nancy C. Andrews, M.D., Ph.D.
A reception to greet the incoming class of M.D.-Ph.D. students was held on September 15, 1998. This year's entering class is among the largest and most diverse in recent years.
Thirteen new students come from nine undergraduate institutions. The group is split almost equally between the Health Science and Technology (HST) program and the New Pathway societies. Their scientific pursuits reflect the evolving nature of the interface between science and medicine. Many are interested in gene therapy, biomedical imaging, targeting drug design or other areas of applied biomedical research. But the more "traditional" interests of M.D.-Ph.D. students are also well represented, including neuroscience, molecular oncology, developmental biology, biochemistry, and biophysics.
The new class includes two 1996 graduates (both from Princeton), four 1997 graduates and seven 1998 graduates. We are delighted to have all of the new students on campus and we welcome them as they begin a very exciting part of their education.
The next round of admissions is underway, with interview days scheduled for four Tuesdays:
- November 17, 1998
- December 15, 1998
- January 5, 1999
- January 26, 1999
M.D.-Ph.D. students interested in meeting with the applicants over lunch should contact Tina Ramos, Admissions Coordinator.
Nancy C. Andrews, Associate Professor of Pediatrics, is the Associate Faculty Director of the M.D.-Ph.D. Program.
The Long View From Atop Mt. Harvard
by Linda Burnley
While reflecting on my 15 year anniversary with the M.D.-Ph.D. Program, I cannot resist sharing a few thoughts on the view from here. I must say that one of the major reasons I have remained for 1.5 decades is that from my position I have great views of all the elements, competing and not, of the medical and graduate school environments. I often remind my dedicated staff that we have both the advantages and disadvantages of being the island connected by a single lane road to the mainland - or is it the other way around?
Like New England seasons, the Program confronts different issues depending on the climate. The most effective changes occur only when the students are involved. In 1983, when I was hired by the late Dr. Edgar Haber as the first full-time administrator, the Program was strengthened by a change to the admissions policy which allowed students entering medical school to be admitted, rather than only enrolled medical students. Later, Dr. Bernardo Nadal-Ginard, Program Director from 1985-1993, was instrumental in doubling the size of the Program and in winning the support of the school to admit M.D.-Ph.D. students with funding from the first year of medical school.
Since my first M.D.-Ph.D. "commencement" in 1984, 201 students have graduated from the Program, many of whom continue their participation in M.D.-Ph.D. committees and events. At this fall's annual retreat there were nine alumni who joined us for the weekend; the active participation of the alumni is undoubtedly one of the major strengths of this Program.
Dr. Dennis A. Ausiello, Director since 1994, has made it a high priority to raise funds for the Program. With the involvement of students, staff, alumni and faculty, a process is underway to evaluate the current state of the M.D.-Ph.D. Program towards the goal of providing a more "integrated" medical and graduate education. At this juncture, we are exploring the Program's past 25 years, its present state and future directions. I may be biased, but the issues we face provide an opportunity to observe the best views of academic life at Harvard. Stay tuned.
Linda Burnley is Deputy Director of the M.D.-Ph.D. Program
Research and Contemplation of the M.D.-Ph.D. Trek in Japan
Part 1:
by Yonatan Grad
Summer of 1998 began in late September of 1997. At a meeting in which 2nd year medical students reported on their summers, I learned about an NSF fellowship for American graduate science students to Japan called the Japan Summer Institute. The program was designed to promote international science and understanding, and had three components: research, intensive language training, and cultural activities. I found the program immensely attractive because I would be able to engage fully in research and simultaneously explore my long-harbored interest in Japan.
Three HMS students (Hien Tran, HST II and also an M.D.-Ph.D. student; Brett Cox, HST II, and me), along with about forty other graduate science students in fields as diverse as aerospace engineering and plant pathology from universities throughout the states, were fortunate enough to receive this fellowship. Most of us arrived with little familiarity with things Japanese, but with a youthful eagerness to learn that rivaled any medical school class.
All of us worked in laboratories or in the field. Thanks to Linda Burnley and fortuitous timing, Hein and I met Dr. Akio Suzuki, President of Tokyo Medical and Dental University (TMDU), who graciously offered to host us at his institute. There, I worked in the laboratory of Professor T. Tanabe, Chair of the Pharmacology Department. My immediate supervisor, Dr. Takashi Kurihara, treated me with genuine hospitality and kindness, offering personal friendship in addition to a wonderful work environment. He involved me immediately in the group's scientific endeavors. Together, we constructed my summer project, which was to perform a differential display between mice with induced neuropathic pain, and control mice. Initially unfamiliar with this branch of neuroscience, over the summer I grew more conversant with the literature and current hot topics of research, and, gratifyingly, I accomplished a good part of the research goals set at the beginning.
The laboratory was more than just a place to do science: After all, it was science in Japan, and it would be influenced by the people's way of life. In the NSF orientation to Japan, we were advised of cultural traits to help in our acculturation. Personal advancement is secondary to cooperation and success of the group. Interaction in a group is itself highly regulated. A rigid social order exists, embodied by the formalities of bowing: to show respect to your superior, you bow more deeply, and there are prescribed angles and exact techniques that must be fastidiously followed. As for gender dynamics, Japan is ostensibly modern and egalitarian, but in reality traditionally subservient roles for women persist.
What I discovered was that these and other social memes manifest themselves in the laboratory environment. The laboratory was composed of several divisions that investigated different aspects of the same topic and yet were so intertwined that they relied on each other to advance. This led to laudable cooperation and inveighed against detrimental selfishness and oppressive egos. Anyone of the assistant professor rank or higher was respectfully addressed as sensei, teacher, even in otherwise relaxed and forgiving social outings. Hours worked also reflected hierarchy. As one American post-doc put it, "the amount of time you were supposed to spend in lab inversely corresponded to your position on the pecking order." On observation, it was clear that most laboratories were male dominated. While I met several female graduate students, I never encountered a female professor in biological sciences.
It was interesting to note the extent to which doing research in America was a prerequisite to promotion. I assume that America was in a parallel situation seventy years ago when aspiring scientists would travel to research meccas in Europe to study. Many Japanese professors I met trained at an American institution for some part of their education. In many cases, like that of Professor Tanabe, who researched as a Post-doctoral student at Stanford and was a Howard Hughes Investigator at Yale, Japanese Universities recruited young scientists who had made their name-making discoveries in the States.
On a different level, Japan is critically noted for its excessive institutional red tape and immotile inertia, currently highlighted in the worsening financial crisis. It became clear that Monbusho, the Japanese Government Ministry of Education, exercises tight control over everything academic. As one exasperated professor lamented, Tokyo University has an impressive number of professors, but almost one-third more bureaucrats. This, he continued, was one of the largest problems with the educational system as it stood in Japan; bureaucrats rather than academicians administered grants, allocated space, and created professorial positions. He hailed the innovational Center for Advanced Research at Tokyo University, a revolutionary educational concept in Japan aimed at remedying these problems, as a great step forward and a positive omen.
As one might expect in a program where two of three stated objectives were exposure to culture and language study, my experiences in Japan were not limited to the laboratory. At the beginning of the summer I spoke "movie-Japanese," words familiar to all movie-goers, like "hai" and "Sayonara." By the end of the excellent and rigorous language course, I had a rudimentary grasp of the language, enough to order in restaurants, understand directions, and carry on banal "so what sports do you like to play" conversations. I was able to explore the culture. Among other activities, I traveled to a handful of cities including incomparable Kyoto and emotionally powerful Hiroshima, visited many Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines, sat Zen meditation, went to Kabuki (a form of classical Japanese theater), luxuriated in natural hot springs, and peacefully walked in the Japanese Alps.
I carry away with me many wonderful memories of Japan, and I truly value the opportunity to explore, however briefly, another culture. I will remember the white-gloved public transportation workers, like the conductors who bowed on entering and exiting train cars; the swollen, swirling mountain rivers and forest on forest on the ride from Gifu to Takayama; Tokyo's interminable morass of architecturally bankrupt buildings; watching elegant and technically impressive hanabi, fireworks (literally fire-flowers), along with thousands of kimono attired Japanese on the Yokohama waterfront; and much more. Most of all, I will remember the hospitality and politeness of the Japanese people. I hope to return to Japan.
Yonatan Grad is a second year HST student.
Research and Contemplation of the M.D.-Ph.D. Trek in Japan
Part 2:
by Hien Tran
As I stood there, staring up the mountain, I wondered what I was doing. The night was slightly chilly, but it was going to become a lot colder where I was headed. It was half past ten when my trek up the side of Japan's highest mountain began. The moon was out but its brightness waxed and waned as the clouds slowly drifted in its path. It was bright enough though to light my path with its silvery luminescence.
For many people in Japan, this journey is a religious experience. It is a trek not just up a mountain but through one's life. The hike itself is inconsequential, but is meant to provide time for thought, time to reflect on the life that one has led, and time to contemplate the direction that one's life will lead. For me, this journey was no different.
As I began to climb, I started to look back on the path that led me to Harvard Medical School, and, more specifically, the M.D.-Ph.D. Program. I asked myself, "Why am I here?" Is it because of the security? Is it because of the prestige? To a certain extent it was a little bit of both, but there were other reasons, stronger reasons for why I have chosen the path that I am on. In fact, some of these reasons are not much different from those put forth by many other M.D.-Ph.D. students that I know.
It seems that one of the main reasons we're here is the desire to be a physician-scientist. We all want to be able to apply our bench-side discoveries in the clinical setting. It is here that our work takes on a greater significance as it alters the course of another person's life. And for many of us, it is the love of cutting edge research coupled with our desire to work directly with patients that has drawn us into the M.D.-Ph.D. Program. Though I was satisfied with these reasons, I still felt that only time and my experience down the road will help me to answer this question.
I then turned my attention back to the path I was hiking. The way was becoming much steeper and obstacles were becoming more frequent as people stopped on the path to rest. At this point, I had traveled for several hours, but the end was nowhere in sight. Every time I looked towards the summit I was striving so hard to reach, it looked just as far away as it did when I first started. After five and a half hours of pure pain, I finally reached the top.
Dawn was breaking and I was about to experience "goraiko," sunrise at the top of Fuji-san. For the Nihonjins (the people of Japan), this moment represents more than the end point of a long and arduous climb, but a heavenly rapture. For me, the sight of the sun coming up over the horizon was truly awe-inspiring. As the sunshine burned away the early morning clouds and slowly caressed the countryside below, I was filled with utter joy. The journey had indeed been worthwhile.
Hien Tran is a second year HST student.
The Longitudinal Course in Clinical Medicine
The Longitudinal Course in Clinical Medicine (LCCM) is an eight week course designed to help students maintain their clinical skills while away from clinical medicine and to refresh clinical skills after a period away from clinical clerkships. James L. Michel, M.D., Ph.D., Assistant Professor of Medicine (Microbiology and Molecular Genetics) directs the course. The LCCM is offered in the spring and fall at the Brigham and Women's Hospital with the next session starting in April, 1999.
"The course is outstanding," according to Manish Aghi, an M.D.-Ph.D. candidate in Neuroscience at DMS. "I opted to take it a little early because I knew things would be hectic while finishing my Ph.D. In April I still had time to give the course my full effort. I recommend the course highly."
Please contact Dr. James Michel, course director, if you are interested in taking the LCCM: (617) 525-4683.
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