One of the most difficult aspects of science for me to deal with when I entered graduate school was empiricism. I came to a love of science from the intellectual, not the practical, end. I liked the questions, ideas, and logic. I was under the impression that, because scientific phenomena underlie our whole existence, any sort of practical problem could be solved by application of reason and logic.
I probably spent the first three years of grad school unlearning this idea.
For a long time, the idea that logic would triumph held me captive to massive frustration. It turns out to be, appropriately enough, right in principle but wrong in application.
I spent years kicking tables out of anger at problems like electrical noise in my setup. Now, there are some straightforward rules governing electricity. You learn a number of them, probably all the relevant ones, in college physics if not earlier. You can apply them all in a logical, orderly manner. You can still have inexplicably bad electrical noise.
You can learn some special rules of thumb for the particular configuration you have. Still, electrical noise.
What drove me up a tree was that invariably I'd get advice from a senior student along the lines of, "Well, just try a bunch of things like this and see if it helps."
Why? There is no earthly reason that I should have to try random things. I should be able to solve this problem using a multimeter and my brain.
As I say, I wasted a lot of time on frustration before learning that in fact, some problems are best solved empirically, by trying a bunch of stuff and seeing what works. You can reason your way back to an explanation (
maybe!), but some problems are more or less intractable without just trying things out, even things that you think shouldn't matter.
I know plenty of good scientists who entered grad school from the opposite pole, that of being do-ers who love nothing more than to plunge in and try stuff, and think about the results later. Those people usually do really well at carrying out experiments, and their challenge is often to make sure those experiments are thoughtfully designed.
If you are headed for or starting graduate school, I'd encourage you to contemplate which of these--thinking or doing--you consider your strength. I certainly knew heading in to grad school that I loved scientific concepts, but struggled with benchwork. If you know which half you find easier, recognize how much you need practice with the other half, and find someone to help you with it. Perhaps you have a fellow labmate who has the skills you lack, or a friend in a neighbor lab. This person's approach to problems may seem totally foreign to you, but that's exactly why you need them.
I was thinking of this today as a colleague and I were troubleshooting a completely bizarre problem with some fancy equipment we both use in his lab. We spent at least half an hour fighting two seriously disconcerting glitches, one of which seemed hardware-related and perhaps unfixable (and which would cast doubt on several published papers that use this hardware), and the other of which seemed software-related but equally unfixable.
Five years ago, I would have given up, or thrown a fit, or called up the company to yell at them, probably uselessly. Instead I suggested we try changing a software parameter that had nothing to do with anything we were having trouble with. Why? Not because I thought it was relevant, but because I have learned respect for empirical outcomes.
Presto. Both glitches cleared up. (Not with the first irrelevant parameter we changed, mind you! More like the 4th.) The other postdoc and I gaped at each other. We tested some more. Solved.
We tried to come up with any possible reason this parameter might have caused these problems. Nothing. But you know what? I don't really care
(though I might still go back with some BNCs and an oscilloscope to see if I can figure it out). It's clear that the software has a bizarre bug that causes this inexplicable behavior. And now we know how to steer clear.
This is not to claim that I never get frustrated with inexplicable problems any longer. Ha ha, no. But that graduate school taught me to take seriously the attitude, "Just try it and see what happens."