My winding trail while fulfilling my love for science and family

Abstract

My winding path toward a career in science was awkward, like an adolescent finding an identity. It did not follow a classic course; it had many interruptions, complications, and challenges. It also involved a bit of luck and extremely supportive colleagues, mentors, and family, including my husband, children, and in-laws. I was inspired to tell my story here because I met a young woman interviewing in 2018 for graduate school who is growing up with the same complicated family expectations, social challenges, love for science, and desire to be a scientist as I had four decades ago. Her future is uncertain, because her chosen academic path is not encouraged by those around her. We, as a society, must find ways to encourage, promote, enable, and give strength to those who want to follow their dreams, despite facing many challenges in their lives. Here are some things I learned on my career path that I hope might be helpful for others.

The early days

As a girl growing up in the South, the expectation was that I would be a good wife and mother and be content with that. Although I was talented in math, my teacher thought it best that I be kept back as a tutor for those who had problems with numbers. During middle school and high school, I had the good fortune of being influenced by the teachers that were running the speech and drama classes. They rigorously and creatively taught young students how to speak in public. On hindsight, to be able to clearly present a fluid and appealing seminar to a group of peers is an extremely valuable tool that every scientist needs to move forward and to be an effective mentor and colleague. For these skills, I am in their debt.

As I finished high school, it was clear that if I wanted to go to college I would have to pay my own way. The mantra from my home was that money was most important to becoming an impressive person in society. Higher education was not a necessity nor important for these goals. I watched as my mother struggled to move beyond this stereotype, and with little support and freedom to choose her own path, she eventually accepted her fate. Despite this, she supported my independence and encouraged me to apply to the university. After acceptance, the paternal expectation was that I would find a bachelor to marry, have children, cook, and clean. So, off I went to college to obtain a major in psychology. There, as a co-ed at this southern university, I walked to class, encountering preachers who called me a “sinner” in colorful language and told me to go home where I belonged; so, instead, I found new paths to walk to class.

One day, partly out of boredom and some curiosity, I signed up for an honors class in molecular biology as an elective. The professor, Dr. Jim Wild, beautifully mixed together biology, chemistry, and genetics. I was in awe and fell in love, hook, line, and sinker, with a new major, biochemistry. So, I finished college with a different type of bachelor, a Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry.

I really had no idea what to do next. In my limited environment, there were no outreach programs to enlighten me, and the internet was still years away. I was given the opportunity to work as a technician in a lab using molecular biology, a field still in its infancy. Scientists would come to visit and present awesome, many times incomprehensible (for me), seminars about science done elsewhere. This was my introduction to science outside of my small world, and I decided, with encouragement from scientists around me, to apply to graduate schools. I applied to two and ended up at UCLA. As one might imagine, explaining biochemistry and graduate school in Los Angeles to my family was a bit of a challenge.

Grad school, part 1

Graduate school was heaven. Science all day, exciting classes, challenging exams, amazing seminars, reading papers, and I could ask questions! When I joined Kathryn Calame's lab, I got my first taste of working on a focused project. Kathryn was the first working mom/scientist I met. She was intense, brilliant, and very, very busy. Experiments from this rotation resulted in my first publication in a peer-reviewed journal. My first lessons from graduate school were: Do not be afraid of new things, be rigorous in your scientific approach, and science is hard work.

Despite my scientific success, I was socially and philosophically unprepared for the perplexing, yet attractive, culture shock of Los Angeles. There were so many new ideas, people, freedoms, and popular things to do. I eventually joined a lab, became mesmerized by fruit flies, and passed my written qualifying exams. However, during that first year, I made a very poor decision that compromised my career in science. My salary as a graduate student was deemed very small, so, surely, I could work a second job to earn more money by working the night shift in the dorm, thereby making money I did not need and giving up the sleep I really did need. Within a year, I crashed. I was extremely depressed, lost too much weight, and stopped eating and sleeping. This is not good for you, your science, or your brain. I dropped out of graduate school. What did I learn from this experience? No matter what, take care of yourself. Eat properly, get sleep, and exercise. Graduate school, doing a postdoc, getting married, and having a career with or without kids are all stressful. But, none of it can be done well if you do not take care of yourself.

Grad school: part 2

So, my parents collected me from my graduate school failure, and we went back to Texas where I was assured that this was the place where I really belonged. I started working as a secretary in my father's business, while being matched with suitable mates. But, the draw to science was too strong, so, after a year or so, I further bewildered my entire family and obtained a job as an HHMI technician with a decent salary at the Protein Chemistry Core, UT Southwestern Medical Center. Using state of the art technology, we sequenced peptides from proteins (HPLC of digested proteins followed by Edman degradation) and used them to identify genes of interest. What did I learn there? You use careful, meticulous protocols to obtain reliable results. Also, I learned, if you put crap in, you get crap out.

After 2 years, I was ready to move to something new, and an opportunity arose to join a Drosophila genetics laboratory. I joined the lab and added more fly genetics to my research toolbox that already included a substantial amount of biochemistry. Two years later, a more senior scientist observed that I was asking too many questions at seminars and reminded me that I was “just a technician.” Well, a bit perturbed, I decided to get my membership card. I obtained my Ph.D. in biochemistry in Joe Sambrook's laboratory. The environment was challenging, rigorous, and somewhat fast-paced, but I knew how to take care of myself and knew I really did want a Ph.D. During my thesis work, I had the benefit of a supportive mentor who allowed me to travel and present papers at international meetings. By observing competitors and colleagues at these meetings, I discovered that there are many ways to approach a scientific problem. Also, while writing my thesis, it became very clear that communication, both written and verbal, is an essential part of becoming a successful scientist.

Half-way through my Ph.D. studies, I met my Prince Charming and future husband, Ron Taussig. At the time, he was working as a postdoc in Al Gilman's laboratory. My husband was a breath of fresh air, as he and his family totally supported my career as a scientist and the idea of perhaps someday being a mother with a career as a scientist. To this day, I believe their support, with that of my children, is seminal to my success. Finding strong and reliable support for all that you love makes the winding trail not only accessible but enjoyable.

Three postdocs and two kids

As our careers were offset with my husband finishing his postdoc and myself finishing my Ph.D., our future path was dictated by my husband finding a faculty position. He succeeded with a position in the biochemistry department at the University of Michigan. Our first year of marriage involved a number of major changes: We moved from Texas to Michigan; my husband started his job as an independent investigator at University of Michigan; “we” became pregnant; and we bought a new house. Thirty-two years old, I arrived in Michigan about 6 months pregnant with our son. Over our 7-year tenure at University of Michigan, I had two children and survived three postdocs.

With my first postdoc, I became a working mom. My husband's hours and my working hours went from 9 a.m. to 11 p.m. (plus weekends) to 8:30 a.m. to 5:45 p.m. (plus “some” weekends), so as to accommodate the threat of late charges for daycare pickup. I admit that during the first years in my transition as a mother/scientist, I was very tired and a bit grumpy due to lack of sleep. Because I had limited time in the lab, I could no longer afford the time to enjoy coffee or important networking chats. I fortunately had the opportunity to spend time with other women scientists, some of them moms, during a once-a-month “ladies” lunch. This was not only a very valuable “tool” for my sanity, but I learned about many practical tools that helped to make “things” work. Throughout my career, I continue to interact with other female colleagues on regular bases for many of these same practical reasons. All in all, my scientific productivity did not suffer as a working mom, but my efficiency did increase. Organizing, prioritizing, being rigorous, setting goals, and being able to say “no” are definitely keys for success. It is important to have very supportive partners, and, for us, one of them was this wonderful thing called “daycare.”

Daycare was just becoming an option for faculty at the University of Michigan, and we took full advantage of it. I remember talking to Elizabeth Neufeld from UCLA about her challenges with science and bringing up children in the pre-daycare age. She said, “I now know that what I had was a very supportive and helpful husband. With that, one can survive with “not-so-good nannies.” She went on to say, “You know not all nannies are like Mary Poppins!” So once again, I bewildered and disappointed my parents by sending my children to daycare. However, knowing that they were building social skills and their immune system, I rationally compensated for my socially imposed guilt. I could love and enjoy my family and enjoy my science with the help of daycare.

Lessons I learned when looking back at my postdoc days include knowing the environment that you will enter, and make sure you fit with the people, the environment, and the structure of the lab, as well as its field of science. I faltered on this point with my second postdoc and almost quit science. Understand the mentor's philosophy about what research is yours, what you can take to start your own research program, and how they will support you based on what they have done for others.

At the start of my third postdoc, generously supported by Jack Dixon (2005 ASBMB Merck Awardee), my husband and I had our second child. We were thoroughly enjoying our young children, friends, and careers in Ann Arbor, MI. With this secure base, over the next few years I developed a research program to investigate the molecular activity of type 3 secreted bacterial effectors from Yersinia. For my first effector, YopJ, I went to my molecular scientific toolbox that was rich with a variety of techniques used to decipher its molecular activity. In hindsight, using a multidisciplinary approach was a significant part of my success with my studies on bacterial effectors. I recommend to all scientists-in-training to diversify and pickup molecular tools for future studies that they may never anticipate using, as Mother Nature is by far the cleverest chemist and biochemist on the planet. I happily found myself in a field of science where I could use multiple tools with numerous collaborators to solve the molecular activity of these elusive bacterial effectors.

With the support of family and friends and a successful and promising research program in hand, I went on the job market. As my husband and I would have independent scientific programs, considerations for where we might apply were limited. I was the risky new assistant professor, and he would move with tenure as an associate professor. Once interviews were done and offers were made, another unexpected and serendipitous event happened. My husband and I were invited back to UT Southwestern by friends to give seminars. My husband was invited as an alumnus of Al Gilman's lab, and I was invited by James Chen (2015 ASBMB Merck Awardee) to give seminars in their respective departments. The next thing we knew, we were offered and then accepted tenure track faculty positions at UT Southwestern.

Life as an Assistant Professor

As luck would have it, my package included being named a W. W. Caruth, Jr., Scholar in Biomedical Research for an assistant professor position in Eric Olson's molecular biology department. Since my hire, I have been supported, challenged, and mentored in an amazing scientific setting.

I started my lab with a very exciting project on the Yersinia bacterial effector YopJ. Based on my postdoctoral work, we hypothesized YopJ was a protease. For the next 4 years, other projects percolated, and we were productive. However, when we tested the YopJ hypothesis, we ended up proving, with the best controlled experiments, that we were wrong about our original hypothesis. During this time, Tony Hunter influenced my career. I was frustrated and complaining about my problems with my bacterial protein YopJ at a signaling meeting, and Tony scientifically reprimanded me by pointing out, “You are a biochemist Kim, use biochemistry to solve your problem.” And so, I returned to the lab with my talented students and pulled out our biochemical tools from our tool box. We discovered that YopJ was not a protease but an acetyltransferase using MS, enzymology, biochemistry, and molecular biology. YopJ used a new post-translational modification to acetylate serines and threonines on MAPK kinases (MKK), thereby preventing activation of these kinases by phosphorylation. This discovery became a valuable lesson in the field of microbial pathogenesis on how to understand virulence factors. First, identify the target; second, understand biochemically how the target has changed; finally, uncover the chemistry used to change the target.

At this point in my career, I understood another valuable tool that is important for all scientists in the 21st century. When using a multidisciplinary approach with many diverse techniques to explore a hypothesis, we also must understand the limits of each tool. For example, performing both genetic and biochemical experiments to test a hypothesis do not provide the same answers. Genetics tells how one factor works relative to another factor; biochemistry indicates direct interactions between molecules. Among all this, molecular biology, if used wisely, can help move a project along. However, molecular biology can also muddy the waters and lead to an ambiguous indirect path with overinterpreted results. I do love Stanley Falkow's “Koch's Molecular Postulate” to rid ourselves of the polar effects. Use methods to test a hypothesis, but do not use them to try to prove a hypothesis.

Life as a tenured faculty

Of the many Vibrio parahemeolyticus effectors studied in the lab and following the lessons learned from the past with YopJ, we discovered that VopS encoded a Fic domain protein that transfers AMP via a direct transfer mechanism to a protein substrate. This mechanism was named AMPylation. After we made this discovery, I was happily walking down the hall and ran into Mike Brown. I told him about our “new post-translational modification” and his jaw dropped. He said his postdoc mentor Earl Stadtman (1983 ASBMB Merck Awardee) had discovered this post-translational modification with another protein in bacteria in the late 1960s. Dr. Stadtman had been looking for more examples of this for years. Needless to say, our “re-discovery” opened up a can of worms for many dozens of papers discovering proteins that were AMPylated by other bacterial virulence factors. Evolutionarily speaking, the Fic domain has been around so long that it has evolved to accommodate other substrates resulting in still more modifications, such as UMPylation, phosphocholination, and even phosphorylation. We went on to find that the eukaryotic Fic-containing proteins reside in the endoplasmic reticulum and modify the chaperone called BiP in a reversible manner. In resting cells, BiP is inhibited by Fic-mediated AMPylation, and when cells are stressed and induce the unfolded protein response, BiP is activated by Fic-mediated deAMPylation. We propose that AMPylation of BiP works as a rheostat in the endoplasmic reticulum for initial sensing and in response to endoplasmic reticulum stress.

Scientifically, my program has been solid and building momentum, and for much of this, I believe my success is related to the extremely healthy environment at UT Southwestern. I have had the honor of receiving many awards, and much of this is because of my supportive chair, Eric Olson, and those who provided my letters of recommendation. If you do not get a grant or an award the first time, reapply as long as you can. For many of my awards, I did not get it the first time, but people believed in me, and so they encouraged and helped me try again.

My 2018 Merck Award is a reflection of the many years of support from my family, colleagues, trainees, and friends. Thank you! My hope is that this essay will provide some helpful tools for others as they move through their own winding careers in science.