![\"The](\"http:\/\/farm4.staticflickr.com\/3752\/9259125573_e1a528a0c3.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\nAlso, it turns out that a very large number of lab terms can be converted to Italian simply by adding an -o or and -a after the English term, with the appropriate lilt. Who knew?<\/p>\n
But all this reminds me of one of my favorite themes – knowing your audience. I am fascinated by the way that some people know instinctively how to pitch their communications, while others seem to give it no thought whatsoever. I’ve watched scientific colleagues at parties being asked “what they do” by a non-scientist guest, and being quietly horrified by the inappropriate responses: jargon and acronyms and a way of presenting things that clearly only an expert in the field would understand. Yet I also understand the opposite tension — not wanting to appear condescending by dumbing things down to childlike levels. It is a fine art, sensing from the information at hand — and real-time reactions — how exactly to phrase things so the correct balance is struck. Your cocktail party audience is unlikely to know what an FPLC is, for example, but you may be able to safely assume knowledge of terms such as genes and DNA. Maybe.<\/em><\/p>\n The art of knowing your audience is applicable to all forms of communication, whether it be science writing, explaining your project to your grandmother — or showing the new Italian student how to use the microscope. I overheard one of my colleagues instructing her to “twiddle the fine focus knob” if she couldn’t make out her Gram stains, and was not surprised when this statement drew a blank. Better to use a more common verb, like “move” — or better still, just demonstrate. Having worked in a lab in the Netherlands for four years, I remember that I was always grateful when people used nursery Dutch and gesticulation to show me things. There is nothing worse than a flood of unintelligible language, except perhaps being too embarrassed to ask for clarification and getting things horribly wrong once the person helping you leaves the room.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Sometimes random consecutive events jibe in unexpectedly harmonious ways. When I returned to the lab from a well-earned holiday in Italy yesterday, the first thing I did was have a chat with one of our new summer students, a bright … Continue reading