School of Arts and Sciences
Graduation Ceremony Address for PhD and MS & MA students (2007)

Andrew Binns
Carolyn Hoff Lynch Professor of Biology

Thank you, Jack and Rebecca. 

This is indeed an honor, one that humbles me…after all, I am a scientist, not necessarily known as a great orator and dispenser of wisdom.  In the classroom and/or seminar room I seek to present methods of inquiry, and the information derived therefrom, in order to generate thought and discussion about the central problems of life science and, when possible, to develop new experimental approaches or unifying concepts. 

Confronting the assignment for today I feel a tad underqualified…a philosopher or a professor of literature might be better equipped to say something profound about this ceremony, to quote Plato or Franklin in a way that illuminates this moment in your lives. But you got a scientist, and I do experiments and make observations. Given that, it might be interesting to view my academic experience as a set of experiments about which I might offer a few observations. 

 In particular I would like to talk briefly about three “Big experiments” that I have undertaken in my academic career. Each required making choices among competing or conflicting options at moments when it was not clear which option was the best.  The lessons I learned will, I suspect, not surprise you but I do believe it useful to reflect on these as a means of encouragement and celebration of your outstanding achievements.

I should admit immediately that I have been selective about the experiments I will talk about today. Like basketball players talking about winning championship games and fishermen talking about landing the big one, scientists talk about the experiments that work, the ones that yield useful information.  So, I’m not going to tell you about the failed experiments of my life – no fun there! Besides, this is a moment that should confirm for all of you that the experiment of graduate school, the experiment of attending Penn, has been successful.

Three “Big” Experiments

(Exp 1)
I was fortunate to have a family that was always committed to education (both parents were teachers).  I grew up happy and secure.  That said, and as my brothers would note with great gusto, I grew up as the “dummy” of the six children in my family.  Always, I have enjoyed – in fact needed – a life outside of my studies and I began perfecting this art in high school, in significant contrast to my two older brothers who seem to have missed the concept that there was life outside of perfect grades. So, one of them ends up at the University of Rochester studying astro-physics and the other at Princeton studying history and politics. 

How can I live up to that?!  Did I even have a brain of my own or was my limited success simply due to family tradition? Should I try to follow my brothers’ path into a research university or I apply to the local ‘teachers college’ and settle down?  Faced with this choice, I chose an experiment, one that set me off on my own path.

I decided to get as far away from home as I could, so off I went from Massachusetts to an outpost south of Green Bay, Wisconsin - Lawrence University - a liberal arts college in the tradition of Carleton College, Oberlin College and any number of outstanding Midwestern schools. At Lawrence, I discovered that indeed I had a brain and, in fact, I absolutely loved research, something, I might add, that no one would have predicted based on my track record. By conducting this experiment, I found I had plenty of brain power - and ended up finding my path in the world of plant biology, molecular and cellular biology and microbiology and ultimately a career in the academy. 

So what did this experiment teach me? My view is that it helped resolve the conflict between stability (of home and family) and change (the reliance on myself).  As I reflect on this experiment, I would argue that stability helps breed confidence but that change provides the opportunity for progress.  This same observation is central to biology: DNA provides for genetic stability thereby yielding reproducibly functional organisms.  Change (mutations in genes) provides the raw materials upon which natural selection works, resulting in what we term evolution.  But a word of warning: change can also be negative (in the biological context I note that most mutations are deleterious to the survival of an organism).  My personal ‘evolution’ has been a constant struggle between the comfort, and indeed success, resulting from stability and the potential that change might provide.  My observation:  cherish stability but don’t be afraid to make a dramatic change! It may not turn out exactly how you imagined, but it might lead you to a better understanding of your place in the world. 

(Exp 2)

Fast forward to the next ‘big’ experiment: one that faces more and more scholars in one form or another, in the early stages of their careers.  My passion for biology led me to Princeton where I completed my transformation into a scientist.  My post doc went well and, embarked on a job search which was even then quite stressful.  I applied to 20 jobs, and I got one interview. Lucky for me, they liked me, and in 1980 I landed at Penn where my colleague and mentor, the late Dr. John Cebra was rebuilding  a modern life science department . 

My specialty at that time was in plant tumor biology – yes plants get tumors and the tumors I studied were induced by bacteria (not viruses) and, in fact, these tumors exhibit the standard characteristic of tumors: uncontrolled cell proliferation.  My specialty was in characterizing the means by which plant tumor cells could be forced to stop growing in such an uncontrolled fashion.  They were being carried out through a series of quite focused approaches. These had to do with the physiology of such cells and how, by experimentally manipulating the cells and their physiology, the tumor cells could be forced to revert into a state exhibiting normal growth control.  Intriguingly, other scientists studying these plant tumors had shown that the fundamental mechanism that caused the tumorous state was that DNA from the inciting bacteria was transferred into the plant cell and caused it to become a tumor cell.  

At this time an event that changed my career took place: a hike in the White Mountains during a break from a meeting on Plant Developmental Biology.  At that meeting I met Dr. Mary-Dell Chilton, one of the senior leaders in the field of molecular biology who was instrumental in discoveries I just mentioned.  During that hike we exchanged ideas about our projects and realized that, given my expertise manipulating plant cells in culture and her expertise in molecular biology, perhaps we could determine whether the DNA in question could have the ‘tumor-causing genes” removed and replaced by a gene of our choice. Would the bacterium move that gene into the plant cells and if so could those cells grow into a healthy, fertile plant? 

These were fascinating questions, but there was one more immediate on my mind. Should I abandon my own work to collaborate with Mary-Dell on this joint project? The risks to my career were related to that great bugaboo of all young faculty members: tenure. To get that promotion – either tenure in the academy or advancement in the private or public sectors – requires that each of us demonstrate our particular strengths. So I had to ask myself: Would taking on the junior role on a collaborative project hurt my chances? Would it look like I couldn’t pull off my own work, but only play second fiddle to a senior researcher?

My experiment was to set aside those risks and collaborate on a project that ultimately helped the fields of plant molecular biology and agricultural biotechnology to enter a period of spectacular discovery. Neither Mary-Dell nor I could have possibly done the project we undertook had we tried on our own (well maybe we could have but it sure would have taken a lot longer), but the collaboration jeopardized my promotion:  for it to succeed I had to spend a great deal of time on it and not on other projects that were clearly ‘mine’.  I undertook this experiment somewhat naively but would make it again every time.  I say this for two reasons: First, Mary-Dell was such a great colleague and mentor that she encouraged me to take part of the project and run with it on my own. Second, my institution – yes Penn – recognized the strength of the work and my part in it.

My observation from this experiment:  We all must develop deep and often specialized capabilities to achieve our PhD and to be recognized as having our own unique and important intellectual abilities.  Yet cooperation and collaboration are more and more necessary to create and utilize new knowledge. 

(Exp 3)

Fast forward, again to my third and final big experiment, the one about work and play.  My career has progressed and I have become the Chair of the Department of Biology. I am teaching Introductory Biology, I am working with the Deans of SAS and with the Development office to raise funds for a new building, and I am recruiting new faculty and graduate students to the department. My lab is going full tilt, three big grants require constant attention, several students and postdocs need mentoring and advice, papers are being written and, yes, I am still carrying out my own experiments. In 1999, in what might be considered a monumental lapse of judgment, I signed up for a second term as Chair. All of you have been around the academy long enough to know that a department chair is the most underappreciated and overworked position at the university, except for maybe Dean of SAS! I mean it is a LOT of work, taking time from your scholarship, your home life, your sleep life.  Moreover, my son was off to college and my wife had matriculated in a Clinical Psychology doctorate program – leaving me even more time for work!!

Soon after I’d made this insane decision, my youngest brother called me and said – hey, bro’ take a break and come up for a visit. He and his family lived and worked in Schykill County – at a golf course.  Well, the rest is history.  I took up golf and playing that year, with my brother, and then several Penn colleagues including at least two members of the National Academy of Science, convinced me that there is nothing better – well, almost nothing better – than teeing off at dawn in a pouring rain at a course on the west coast of Ireland. 

So, this big experiment was to embrace a form of play at precisely the point in my life that I was spending enormous time and energy at work. This goes back to my opening story : I have always had a great appreciation for recreation and fun.
The focus we require to do what we do is enormous and the time demands quite real and often unforgiving.  But play remains absolutely necessary. I simply need it and would not have been an effective chair without that outlet.  So my final observation: The more you work the more play is necessary! 

One last thought

            To sum up what little wisdom I’ve gathered from these experiments, here are my three simple observations:

1. Cherish stability but don’t be afraid to make a dramatic change! Don’t be afraid to take that job half-way across the country or the world. Don’t let stability keep you from finding your potential.

2. Cooperation and collaboration are necessary for the advancement of knowledge!  When you arrive in your new environment, whether it is a college, a corporation, or a think tank, work with your colleagues—collaborate on exciting projects---change the world, invent new knowledge together.

3. Don’t forget to play!  No matter how stressful that trek to tenure or a promotion seems, make time to do what you love to do. Love your work, but remember play.

The last thought I have is related to a question my wife asked me a few years ago. We were talking about our careers and she asked – what do you want from here on out? And my answer was – I want to one more good experiment!  The experiment I am now trying is being an Associate Provost and working to make Penn the best it can be.  I don’t know yet what observation I might make about this great experiment, but when you come back to campus in a few years, I hope you’ll look me up and ask.

And you, cherished graduates and colleagues, are the very best part of Penn. You have given your all, contributing greatly to the development and sharing of knowledge. I salute you, I congratulate you and I am honored to be in your company.  Go forward on whatever path you take – and please, do one more great experiment!