キャリアニュース2020年9月7～9日

I hurried downstairs to the cafeteria. At the table sat my new mentees: six eager undergraduates who had signed on to work on an 8-month aquatic toxicology project I had devised. It was a crucial piece of my Ph.D. research, and it would satisfy a key graduation requirement for the undergrads. “Starting today, I get to learn what it's like to be my Ph.D. adviser,” I thought to myself excitedly. But a few minutes into the meeting, the students broke the news: They didn't have any training in toxicology. My chest tightened. How would this ever work? > “Letting the students find their own way gave them room to grow as scientists.” My inspiration to engage undergraduates in my research had come after 2 years of working as a teaching assistant. Many of my undergraduate students had voiced the same frustrations I once had: They were expected to absorb facts and regurgitate them in exams, rinse and repeat, without any real critical thinking or opportunity to apply what they had learned. I

The coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic is magnifying existing oppression ([ 1 ][1]–[ 3 ][2]), sparking discussions among scientists about the post-pandemic community we want to build. Transgender scientists should be a part of these conversations to ensure that their needs are recognized as we strive to make science more diverse and inclusive. Transgender people face barriers to becoming scientific leaders at every career stage ([ 4 ][3]). From primary school onward, students are taught science from a cis-normative perspective ([ 5 ][4], [ 6 ][5]), where sex and gender are synonymous and binary. Alongside bullying and lack of family support, this structural denial of “non-standard” genders leads to elevated school dropout rates ([ 7 ][6]). In university and professional settings, transgender people face more harassment and mental health issues than their cisgender colleagues ([ 4 ][3]). Hate crimes and discriminatory laws often target transgender people ([ 8 ][7]), and they