Category: graduate school

Doctoral Regalia: MIT/WHOI Style

All decked out in my doctoral regalia.

Almost three weeks ago I participated in the doctoral hooding and commencement ceremonies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). During these ceremonies, I received my doctoral hood and my diploma, which I earned for my PhD in Marine Geology, a degree which was jointly awarded by MIT and the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI). During the course of planning for and participating in these ceremonies, I found myself fascinated by the traditions associated with these ceremonies. I found myself particularly fascinated by  the doctoral regalia and other forms of academic dress, which are the fancy robes worn by the faculty members and graduates in the ceremonies.

I think I found myself fascinated by the academic dress because the standard dress for students and professors– at least in the geology departments at MIT and WHOI– is fairly casual. Personally, I generally wore shorts, t-shirts, and sandals in the summertime and jeans, t-shirts, sweaters, and sneakers in the wintertime during my time at MIT and WHOI. This sort of clothing is more-or-less what most people in the departments wear. At both institutions, it was not uncommon for me to encounter people in exercise clothes or field clothes or old painting clothes, recently covered in dirt and mud from some rock or core sampling project. Occasionally, I wore fancier clothes. I wore slightly nicer attire (perhaps a skirt or just nicer shoes and a nicer shirt with jeans) for classroom presentations, and I wore full-out “dress attire” (a simple suit or a dress with a nice sweater or jacket) for my qualifying exams, committee meetings, presentations to the trustees, and for my PhD defense. Given the fairly casual attire worn around the geology (and many other) departments, I found it delightful and somewhat humorous to see my classmates and faculty members decked out in elaborate doctoral regalia, complete with fancy velvet and tassles and bright colors.

A few weeks ago, I thought I might do a little research on academic dress and then write up a post on such dress, perhaps with a focus on doctoral regalia. However, after a few minutes of google searching, I found myself overwhelmed with information about academic dress. Academic dress comes in all shapes and sizes and colors, and each country– even each institution– seems to have its own particular set of rules for academic dress. Thus, I think I’ll abandon my pursuit to write a detailed post about academic dress. Instead, I’ll just provide a little bit of basic information about the dress and then will focus this post on the doctoral regalia which I recently wore.

I’d also like to present a call for pictures. I think it would be great to compile a bunch of pictures of people in their academic dress, so if you have a photo of you in your dress, please email it to georneysblog AT gmail with a little bit of information about the dress (perhaps provide the name of the school and the degree and any information about what various parts of the attire might represent). I’ll compile the pictures, and we’ll have an academic dress parade here on Georneys. If you prefer, you’re welcome to post pictures of your academic dress on your own website or blog, and I can just link to your post.

I’ll start the academic dress parade with some pictures of my MIT /WHOI doctoral regalia and a description of the ceremonies in which I participated. MIT has a great webpage here which gives a little bit of history about academic dress in America and then describes the MIT academic dress. My academic dress journey started when I had to make a decision about whether I wanted to buy or rent the doctoral robes. Purchasing the doctoral robes from the official MIT store costs over $700. Renting the doctoral robes from the MIT store is still fairly expensive– about $170– although you are allowed to keep the fancy gray hat with the tassle. You also are allowed to keep your doctoral hood, which is presented to you at the hooding ceremony. Various knock-off MIT doctoral regalia can be purchased or rented for less money. A word of advice about that: DO NOT purchase or rent the knock-offs… or at least make sure you inspect the quality of the knock-offs prior to the ceremony. I saw some terrible looking knock-off robes during the hooding and commencement ceremonies. Some of the cheap knock-off robes started to fall apart during the ceremony– the stripes on the sleeves were actually peeling off in some cases.  Although expensive, the official MIT gowns definitely look MUCH better than the knock-offs. Of course, for awhile I contemplated purchasing  this $20 Harry Potter costume, which could probably pass as doctoral regalia… and could also be worn with a stylish wand, I suppose.

I contemplating renting verses buying for a few days and then decided to rent my doctoral regalia. While academic dress used to be worn daily (back in the 1700s and 1800s, anyway), these days academic dress is pretty much only worn at fancy ceremonies such as commencement. So, the only time that I might wear my fancy academic regalia in the future would be as a university faculty member participating in graduation and other ceremonies. Several months ago, I decided to leave academia and spend some time working in industry. One day, I may return to academia. However, I don’t see any need for my doctoral regalia in the near future, so I decided to rent the regalia.

I first donned my rented regalia on the morning of Thursday, June 7th. My husband Jackie and I woke up very early– about 5:30 am– so that we could drive from my parents’ house in New Hampshire to the Alewife T-station (subway station) in Boston. We parked the car at Alewife then took the T to the Alewife/Kendall stop, where we visited the MIT COOP to pick up my doctoral regalia. I was worried it might take a long time to pick up the regalia, but the process actually went fairly quickly. We soon headed across campus to the gym, where the doctoral hooding ceremony was going to be held.

As we were walking around outside the gym, a Chinese couple came up to us, and the man said to me, “You are very beautiful. I take a picture?” I was a bit flabbergasted, but I agreed. I ended up taking several pictures with the Chinese man and his wife, who told me (in very broken English) that they were tourists from China and were very excited to be visiting MIT. I’ve encountered many Chinese and other Asian tourists during my years at MIT. Often, the tour groups at MIT are full of Asian tourists. I guess my doctoral robes and I will be shown in some vacation picture slideshows over in China!  Being asked to take pictures with the two Chinese tourists reminded me just how special– how beautiful, really– it was to be graduating from MIT. I am very lucky to have had the opportunity to study– and graduate from!– such a world-renowned institution.

Eventually, the Chinese tourists left us alone, and I went inside the gym to line-up. Jackie waited outside to meet my parents, who drove down from New Hampshire a little bit later. After some waiting and some processing, the soon-to-be-doctors made their way into the gym and sat down on the plastic chairs that were lined up. At least, most people sat down on plastic chairs. There were supposed to be 13 chairs in each row, so the ceremony staff members counted out 13 people before starting a new row. However, in the row where I sat there were only 12 chairs because one chair had been taken away to make room for a person in a wheelchair. As we were counted out, my classmates and I tried to protest when 13 people were directed to sit in 12 chairs, but our protests were swiftly dismissed by the stern staff member.

Before we knew it, the procession music had ended, and we were trying to figure out how to sit 13 people in 12 chairs. Fortunately, we were seated by degree, so most of the people sitting in my row were my fellow classmates in the MIT/WHOI Joint Program. Therefore, at least we knew the people to whom we were suddenly a bit too close for comfort. The plastic chairs placed out for the ceremony are not very comfortable to begin with, and they are definitely not comfortable when you are sitting on half of one chair and a quarter of another chair. We giggled and elbowed each other a bit, but otherwise we managed to make ourselves look reasonably presentable for the ceremony despite our 13-people-in-12-chairs situation. At one point, we attempted to steal a chair from a partly-empty row behind us. However, we noticed– just in time– that the chairs were tied together. I imagine we would have caused quite a ruckus had we pulled on the one chair and moved the entire row of chairs. In any case, we survived our seating arrangement, and I managed to enjoy the ceremony despite the uncomfortable seating.

The ceremony was fairly simple. There were a few speeches, and then the names of the 400+ doctoral graduates were read. After a person’s name was read, the person went onto the stage, where he or she received a doctoral hood. Each hood was placed over a student’s head by the chancellor, who was assisted by a representative from the student’s department. My hood was thus placed over my head by the chancellor and by Jim Yoder, who is the Dean of the MIT/WHOI Joint Program. I’ve known Jim for several years, and it was nice to have someone I know investing me with my doctoral hood. If you have any interest, you can watch a video of the hooding ceremony here. I receive my doctoral hood towards the end of the video. On that same website, there are also videos of the next day’s commencement ceremony.

Here’s a picture of me receiving my hood:

Receiving my doctoral hood. Yay!

And here’s a view of the MIT/WHOI doctoral hoods from the back:

Soon-to-be MIT/WHOI graduates lined up, wearing their doctoral hoods. This picture was taken by my husband at commencement.

Doctoral hoods are somewhat funny garments. From what I can tell, doctoral hoods are not really designed to be worn at hoods. At least, I couldn’t figure out how to cover my head with my hood. Rather, doctoral hoods are worn on the back as a sort of decorative embellishment. The MIT doctoral hoods are black on the outside with a blue velvet strip for PhDs and a yellow velvet stripe for DScs. The inside of the hood is lined with the MIT school colors– red and gray. In addition, the hoods of MIT/WHOI doctors are lined with a stripe of “Old Glory” blue, which can be seen at the bottoms of the hoods in the above picture. The hoods contain a pocket which, as the chancellor explained during the hooding ceremony, “Is big enough for a book or  perhaps a sandwich but is too small for an iPad.” Graduates were not permitted to carry purses and other bags for either the hooding or commencement ceremonies. The men generally wore pants with pockets and were able to store their wallets, keys, cell phones, etc. in their pants’ pockets. Most of the women, on the other hand, wore dresses or skirts underneath their robes and had difficulty finding places to store their things. Keys and wallets and such were stored in sleeves and blouses and even, in one case, underneath a hat. I know many women were grateful for their hood pocket for the commencement ceremony. Personally, I stored my Kindle, keys, wallet, and cell phone in my hood pocket for the commencement ceremony.

The commencement ceremony on Friday June 8th was held in Killian Court, which is a beautiful courtyard located across the street from the Charles River and adjacent to one of MIT’s classic domed buildings. Like the doctoral hooding ceremony, the commencement ceremony was fairly simple– a long, hot procession (they actually made us walk a lap around the MIT track!) followed by sitting in the courtyard and listening to a few speeches and then about two hours of name reading and diploma receiving. The day was fairly sunny and warm, and the graduates were sitting in the sun. Like many other graduates, I unbuttoned and loosened my doctoral robe, grateful that I was wearing a fairly cool sundress underneath. While name after name was called, I chatted with my classmates and read a book on my Kindle. Eventually, the time came for the MIT/WHOI graduates, and we lined up to approach the stage. My name was finally called, and I received my diploma from MIT president Susan Hockfield and WHOI president Susan Avery.

Here’s a picture of me receiving my diploma:

Receiving my diploma. Yay!

Here are a few more pictures from the doctoral hooding and commencement ceremonies:

All decked out in my doctoral regalia, before the hooding ceremony.
After the hooding ceremony, with my hood.
With mom and dad in front of a number sculpture.
With Jackie in front of the MIT seal.
Wearing the doctoral regalia on the T.
Another view of the doctoral regalia on the T.
With my diploma!
I went to use the restroom, and my dad tried to steal my diploma.

Those are the pictures I have to share. Please share some pictures of you in your own academic dress!

Blast from the Past: Meteorite Graduation Gift

Phil and I at Red Rock Canyon (outside Las Vegas), circa January 2006.

I feel very fortunate to have known Phil Plait aka “The Bad Astronomer” for many years, primarily through our involvement with the James Randi Educational Foundation (JREF). I twice worked as an intern for the JREF, and Phil used to be president of the JREF. Over the years, Phil has been very encouraging and supportive of  my scientific studies.

I’m currently packing up my office as I prepare to depart from MIT/WHOI, where I’ve been a student for the past six years. When I was sorting through various office items yesterday, I came across a graduation present from Phil. When I graduated from Dartmouth College back in 2006, Phil sent me a wonderful letter and a meteorite. Best. Graduation. Present. Ever.

I thought I would share Phil’s letter and a picture of the meteorite. By the way, the reason Phil calls me Kitten/Evelyn is because my mom’s name is “Kitty,” and she used to refer to my sister and I as “Kitten 1” and “Kitten 2” on the JREF’s online forum. So, when I joined the JREF forum (back in 2003, I believe), I used “Kitten” as my forum name.

Here’s Phil’s Letter:

Phil's graduation letter, Page 1.
Phil's graduation letter, Page 2.

And here’s the meteorite:

The little meteorite.

Phil, thanks again for the meteorite and, more importantly, for being enthusiastic about science and supportive of my scientific studies. Just so you know, my PhD graduation is in early June… just in case there are any other space rocks you’d like to send me.

Geology Word of the Week: T is for Time

Layers of travertine deposition in the Sultanate of Oman, January 2009.

def. Time:

1. What the clock (or the cesium atom) measures.

2. “The indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole.” (From Google Dictionary).

3. “A finite extent or stretch of continued existence, as the interval separating two successive events or actions, or the period during which an action, condition, or state continues; a finite portion of time; a period.” (From the Oxford English Dictionary).

4. One of four dimensions in the spacetime continuum.

I have not written a geology word of the week post for 5 months– about 150 days. My last geology word was S is for Syncline back in November. On a blogging timescale, 5 months is an eternity. In fact, a lack of posting for five months is what Ron Schott uses to classify a blog as “dormant” on his Geoblogosphere list. However, on a geologic timescale 5 months is no time at all. The Earth is 4.54 billion years old, and most geologists think on timescales of thousands or millions or even billions of years.  To humans, of course, with our paltry lifespan of a hundred years or less, 5 months is a significant amount of time. Months, days, hours, and even seconds are important on human timescales.

However, geologists often use geologic time to put human events in perspective. For example, I’ve taken not quite six years to complete my PhD in geology. In my graduate program six year PhDs are common. When you’re struggling along through graduate school, six years seems like an eternity sometimes. To help relieve the stress, the geology graduate students joke with each other, “Well, on a geologic timescale, of course, this is nothing. Heck, I could take 10 years to complete my PhD and it would still be nothing, geologically speaking.” And then there’s the old stand-by joke: Never loan geologists money… because they’ll pay you back on a geologic timescale.

A geologic timescale "clock", putting human existence into geologic perspective. Image credit: Wikipedia user Hardwigg. Image taken from here:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Geologic_Clock_with_events_and_periods.svg

For those of you who are not familiar, under normal blog conditions I muse about a geology word every week here on Georneys. I first give a definition of the word, and then I explain a little about the importance of the word in geology. I often present a compilation of pictures that illustrate the geology word in action. For example, there were some impressive picture compilations in X is for Xenolith and M is for Migmatite. Pictures are often provided by Geoblogosphere members, by my geology colleagues, and by my twitter followers and blog readers. Geology words are also often proposed by my blog readers and twitter followers, so in a way the geology word of the week is a group effort, and I am merely the editor of an ongoing geologic encyclopedia.

Because humans like patterns and I need some way to focus a very, very long list of geologic words (scientists like words, and geologists are no exception), for my weekly words I work through the alphabet in order. Since the last geology word started with an S, that means this week’s word starts with a T. Next week’s word will begin with a U (feel free to start thinking of suggestions), and in two weeks the word will start with a V, and so on.

From November 2010 (when I started writing Georneys) to October 2011, I was rigorous about posting a geology word every week. However, last October I started to become somewhat busy. I put the geology word of the week on hold for a few weeks to prepare for my wedding at the end of October. I managed to post S is for Syncline in November, but after that I found that I simply didn’t have enough time for the weekly word. I consider blogging a fun (and important) hobby, but in the last few months of my PhD thesis writing, I didn’t have time for any hobbies… or for as much exercise, proper eating, or restful sleeping as I would have liked.  Now that the thesis defense is over, I am bringing back the weekly geology word. Depending on travel and other circumstances, there may be a few weeks where I miss a word. However, I’ll do my best to post a word every week. You can help me with that by suggesting words as well as by providing information and pictures for the selected weekly words. I can often be bribed to write about a certain word if someone provides good pictures.  As I mentioned above, the geology word of the week really is a team effort.

Although I considered other T words such as tafoni and tektite and tourmaline, after some musing I eventually decided that “time” is a fitting word for the resurrection of The Geology Word of the Week. Time seems an appropriate word because significant time has passed (on a human timescale, anyway) since I last posted a geology word. Also, I have spent much of the last few months thinking about time. Indeed, my PhD thesis even contains the word time. The title of my thesis is: Determining timescales of natural carbonation of Peridotite in the Samail ophiolite, Sultanate of Oman. My PhD is technically in Marine Geology, but if I were to describe my expertise in geology, I would probably describe myself as a geochronologist and geochemist who enjoys using isotopes and other geochemical tools to constrain ages of rocks and rates for various geologic processes.

Time is an interesting concept. Humans intuitively understand time, at least on a certain level. We fundamentally understand time and the passage of time through natural events which take time– the rising and setting of the sun, the rising and falling of the tides, the passage of patterns of stars in the sky, the waxing and waning of the moon. Long ago, time was measured by observing various periodic natural phenomena (such as the waxing and waning of the moon) as well as through use of devices such as sun dials and hourglasses filled with sand. Today, we primarily measure time with various mechanical and electronic devices. However, we also precisely define time and calibrate our artificial clocks by using atomic clocks. The official SI unit of a second is defined as “9,192,631,770 cycles of that radiation which corresponds to the transition between two electron spin energy levels of the ground state of the 133Cs atom.” (from Wikipedia’s article on Time). So, although we now wear various mechanical watches, we still base our understanding of time on the observation of periodic natural phenomena.

Time is a very important concept in geology. Understanding when and how quickly and in what order various geologic events and processes occur is key in understanding how our planet– and other planets– operate. Geologic time began as a relative concept– figuring out the order in which geologic layers were deposited, noting when certain fossil organisms lived and died, determining the order in which minerals crystallize and erode. The discovery of radioactivity in the late 1800s and the development of absolute geologic dating techniques in the 1900s (and continuing to today)  revolutionized geology by providing absolute dates and rates for geologic events and processes. Geologists were able to determine the age of the Earth and to add dates to the previously-established (in a relative sense) geologic timescale.

The determination of geologic ages and rates continues to be very important for geologic research. As an example, in my PhD research I worked to better constrain rates of carbonate formation and erosion in the peridotite layer of the Samail ophiolite. Understanding timescales of peridotite carbonation is important because such carbonation represents a natural sink in the carbon cycle. Also, enhanced carbonation of peridotite is one proposed method for carbon sequestration that could offset anthropogenic emissions of carbon dioxide to the atmosphere. However, before scientists can figure out how much we have to speed up natural carbonation of peridotite to offset anthropogenic emissions, they first have to know how quickly peridotite carbonation occurs naturally.

The latest (2009) Geologic Timescale from the Geologic Society of America. A downloadable PDF of the timescale can be found here: http://www.geosociety.org/science/timescale/.

I think about time and use the word time all the time (Example A). Time is an important term for geologists– and scientists in general– to understand and define carefully. I have a good understanding of time in my daily life and also of geologic time. However, when I think more deeply about time– for example, thinking about time as one of the four dimensions of spacetime– I wonder if I really understand time at all. I may have to read up on some theoretical physics and time now that I have a little extra time.

Certainly, there is a part of me that feels amazed that– finally– the time has passed, and I have defended my PhD. Along the way, I felt that my PhD research and progress crept along slow as molasses. Then– all of a sudden– I was ready to defend. Now, I look back and wonder where the time has gone.

About a month ago, I remember being in a state of high-stress and sleep deprivation and panic, wondering how I would survive the next few weeks. And I remember thinking back on other high-stress and important events– my competition in the Junior Olympics as a kayaker, my advanced placement examinations in high school, the SAT, the college admissions process, finals in college, the GRE, the graduate school admissions process, every single math test I took at MIT, my PhD qualifying exams, my wedding, and so on. Months of anticipation and worry and stress preceded each of these events. And yet, time passed, and I survived each event– thrived even, with some– and then afterwards I felt a strange sense of wonder: Was the event truly over? Had I truly survived? Was there nothing more to anticipate? How had the time passed? What now? Along with the wonder, I felt a surreal sense of calm, a satisfied sense of accomplishment. I would relax for awhile, returning to a more normal, less-stressed state. And then, after awhile, I would start anticipating the next event.

The anticipation of my PhD defense was more challenging, by far, than any of the previous important events mentioned in the list above. When I felt overly concerned over the last six months or so, I just took a deep breath and reminded myself of all those other difficult events. Time will pass, I told myself. Time will pass.

Well, time did pass. And I survived– thrived even– during my PhD defense. And now I feel that same surreal sense of wonder and calm. And now I find myself musing over time, for a time at least.

Monday Geology Picture: PhD Defense

At my post-defense party in the WHOI student center.

On Friday the 13th I successfully defended my PhD in Marine Geology in the MIT/WHOI Joint Program. For this week’s geology picture, here I am on Friday with my co-advisors Susan Humphris and Ken Sims at my post-defense party.

Everyone has to call me Dr. Evelyn now… at least for a few days. Then everyone can call me just plain old Evelyn again.

Once I recover from post-thesis exhaustion and finish up my revisions, you can expect the pace of blogging to pick up here slightly. I even plan to resurrect the Geology Word of the Week, so stay tuned!

PhD Defense!

Someone has been posting these signs all over the Geology and Geophysics Department at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution and the Earth and Planetary Science Department at MIT:

I can’t believe that I’m actually going to defend my PhD next week. Honestly, it feels somewhat surreal. I guess I’d better make a presentation! And make sure I know my carbon cycle.

MIT/WHOI Joint Program thesis defense presentations are open to the public, so if you’re in the area please feel free to attend.

Blast from the Past: The Goldilocks Planet

Earth, the Goldilocks Planet. Click to view larger.

On Saturday I am leaving Woods Hole to spend the summer in Laramie, Wyoming. Between now and then I have a zillion things to do. I pretty much have to work constantly prepping samples in lab, running the mass spectrometer, packing, and cleaning out my apartment. Oh, and maybe remembering to eat and sleep now and again.

I’m pretty tired as aside from my trip to South Africa to visit my fiance back in April and a weekend trip to go wedding dress shopping, I haven’t taken any time off since December. I work every weekend and many evenings. Grad school is hard work, that’s for sure! However, there are many benefits to being a grad student. I am paid to explore and travel and do fun things, like go spend the summer in beautiful Laramie. I need to work on data interpretation and writing, but I should be able to take a weekend day off here and there to explore some of the beautiful Wyoming countryside. And there will be NO labwork! I love the lab, but frankly I’m a bit sick of labwork after the last six months of grueling lab labor.

Despite the recent long months of labwork, I love working as a geologist because through my geology work I am able to explore the amazing planet on which we live. Earth is pretty amazing, don’t you know? As my 9-year-old self put it in the drawing above, Earth is the Goldilocks planet– it’s not too hot, it’s not too cold. It’s just right*.

The Goldilocks drawing came from my school report “Space Unit” from 1993.

*Though Carl Sagan might say that Earth only feels like a Goldilocks planet to us because we evolved to live on it. If life exists on other planets, that life probably thinks their planets are pretty perfect, too. Even if those planets are very different from our Earth.

Just a Typical Sunday Morning Conversation at WHOI

I had an interesting conversation with one of the security guards here at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI) just a few minutes ago. The conversation went something like this slightly stylized version:

**************

Security guard: Do you know where Mary* is? I noticed her car wasn’t in the parking lot last night.

Me: Hmm… haven’t seen her recently.

Security guard: I know she’s been working in New York, so I sent her an email to make sure the car was okay. But I got one of those away messages.

Me: Oh yes! That’s right. I forgot– she’s in Antarctica. The car is back this morning. I bet a friend just borrowed it.

Security guard: Antarctica?

Me: She probably has email there.  Don’t worry. She’ll probably reply soon.

Security guard: Antarctica? Isn’t it winter there?

Me: Yes, but I think she’s on a ship.

Security guard: On a ship in Antarctica in winter? Crazy scientists.

**************

Yes, we scientists are crazy. Speaking of which, I need to hurry on to my labwork. On Sunday morning. On a holiday weekend.

*Name changed to protect the identity of the crazy scientist.

Good Hotplate

On Wednesday there was a bad hotplate incident that melted two of my samples. As scary and destructive (for my poor Oman rocks…) as this incident was, I’m happy to report that there is some good resulting. I’ve filed a full safety report, and with the help of a safety person I’ve been in touch with Thermo Scientific, the company that manufactured the defective hotplate. Maybe it’s because Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution is a big client, but I’ve been very impressed at Thermo Scientific’s response so far. We have a representative working with us on our case, and the company is launching an investigation of the incident to see if there is a problem with this model of hotplate. I really hope the company follows-through with the investigation. Thermo Scientific is also offering to buy me a new hotplate, though I told them I don’t want another Cimarec hotplate since I don’t trust this hotplate. I almost said, “I don’t want your crappy unsafe hotplate,” but I managed to put it a little more tactfully than that on the phone with the representative.

So, you might be wondering, what hotplate do I want? I want a PicoTrace safety hotplate, a geochemist’s dream:

The dreamy PicoTrace hotplates. Image taken from here.

What a gorgeous hotplate…. separate temperature control outside of the corrosive environment, multiple safety features and temperature limits, a maximum temperature of 265 degrees C… I could go on and on about this dreamboat hotplate.

Alas, these beautiful hotplates start at about $3,000. I’m not sure if Thermo Fisher will spring for that, but perhaps they’ll at least refund our money for the two hotplates that malfunctioned, and we can put that money towards the expensive hotplate. Also, I’m pretty sure the hotplate incident has convinced everyone involved in the lab re-design and money budgeting that it’s worth it to pay for the $3,000 model hotplates. Yes, the PicoTrace hotplates are expensive, but they’re worth it for safety.

Bad Hotplate

When it comes to laboratory safety, you should never cut corners to save money.

A few months ago, I had a teflon beaker melt on a yellow hotplate which we had purchased for the lab to replace a hotplate that died. Unfortunately, when inexpensive hotplates “die” they tend to heat up very hot, which can be very dangerous. I’m not sure exactly what happens, but I think that over time acid corrosion affects the thermocouple so that the hotplate can no longer regulate temperature properly.

I use some very strong acids in my chemistry– concentrated nitric acid, hydrofluoric acid, and perchloric acid. I need to use strong acids because I am dissolving rocks. As you can imagine, dissolving rocks is no easy task– those silicate bonds are difficult to break. Because I use such strong, corrosive acids, I think the electronics of an inexpensive hotplate are easily corroded. I wish the hotplate would just switch off or cool down when it becomes corroded. Unfortunately, when this model of hotplate dies because of acid corrosion, it dangerously ramps up in temperature, melting teflon beakers filled with acid and rock powder.

Good hotplate. Note the lack of melted beakers.

Most of the hotplates in lab are home-made with heating tape and will not fail in such a catastrophic way. However, these hotplates do not reach high enough temperatures to dry down perchloric acid, which I must use in my dissolutions. I’m not the only one who uses perchloric acid– there are others in the lab who have used this dangerous acid. To dry down perchloric, we use a special venting system (so we don’t inhale the vapors) and use a store-bought hotplate. We’ve been using the Cimarec hotplate made by ThermoScientific. This is a BAD HOTPLATE. I bought a brand-new Cimarec back in October or so, and it has already failed by overheating. The Cimarec we had before that lasted less than a year before it melted a single teflon beaker.

When the beaker melted on the previous Cimarec hotplate, I was very concerned. I was very sad to lose a sample, of course, as my chemistry takes MONTHS so the loss of even a single sample is very unfortunate. The bigger problem, however, is the possible risk of fire by melting a plastic beaker containing very strong acids and rock powder. I looked into what types of hotplates we could purchase that would not fail in such a catastrophic manner. The problem? The “safe” hotplates cost about $3,000 whereas the “unsafe” Cimarec hotplates cost only about $300. My primary advisor had just left for another institution, so there was no way that he was going to buy a $3,000 hotplate to leave behind. The lab technician advised that I buy another Cimarec since “it was unlikely” that it would fail again before the labwork for my thesis was completed. I listened to the lab technician and my one advisor (I’ve got two actually), which was a mistake. I should have insisted that we purchase the expensive hotplate. Or I should have insisted that I be allowed to dry down my perchloric samples in another lab with safe hotplates.

But I bought the new Cimarec hotplate and the technician helped me install it. I did change my behavior– I didn’t leave the hotplate alone during the day, and I switched it off overnight. However, I didn’t watch it every minute– it’s just not practical to do so.

Today the inevitable happened. I put two 120 mL teflon beakers and their lids on the yellow hotplate to dry down. I went to work on something else in the lab, but after about 30 minutes I smelled some smoke. This is what I found:

Bad hotplate.

Note the lowness of the temperature dial. I had it set to 125 deg C, well below the melting point of teflon plastic.

Only a beaker lid rim remains.

Bad teflon goo.

I immediately unplugged the hotplate and called security. No one was hurt, and there was no fire. But someone could have been hurt, and there could have been a fire. I have already filed an extensive safety report and plan to meet with the safety officers in the near future. Although a new, fancy hotplate may not be installed in time for my thesis work, I plan to do everything possible to make sure that an expensive but safe hotplate is installed. There is a new scientist about to take over the lab (a replacement for my advisor), and he agrees with me. He made a fuss about the hotplate as well, and he’s trying to insist that his start-up allow for the purchase of several of the expensive but safe models of hotplate. I hope that the accident today gives him leverage to insist on the money he needs for the safe hotplates.

This time, I think my advisor and the lab technician will take my request for an expensive hotplate seriously. If not, an accident like this may happen again. After all, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. If any of you use the Cimarec hotplates to dry down acids, please seriously consider abandoning use of this type of hotplate.

As for my chemistry? I’ve already asked the scientist across the hall if he would dry down my samples for me in his expensive dry-down system. He has generously agreed and also offered to help me insist that the lab (which is going to be rebuilt for the new scientist) contain the safe hotplates.

A final note is that I am mourning the loss of the two peridotite samples that melted earlier today. I had been dissolving these samples for several months, so I’ve now lost months of chemistry. Fortunately, I only lost two samples.