Crucial training pipeline for Deaf scientists dismantled by NIH funding cuts

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From ScienceMag:

When Michelle Koplitz began studying biotechnology as an undergraduate at the Rochester Institute of Technology, she had dreams of one day becoming a doctor. As a Deaf student, however, she didn’t have many role models or mentors in the field who could support her. Still hoping to work in health care, she ended up pursuing a master’s degree at Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health. And although Koplitz looks back on that program with fondness, being the only Deaf researcher in a group of hearing colleagues was jarring. “I felt very alone and isolated,” she recalls.

Koplitz knew that, for a Ph.D. program, she would need a community again. She also knew she would find that back in Rochester, New York, which is thought to have one of, if not the, largest per capita populations of deaf and hard-of-hearing people in the United States. When Koplitz returned to the area to pursue her doctorate, she also had the opportunity to plug into a group of programs known collectively as the Deaf Scientists Pipeline. Unlike traditional degree programs, this initiative—a long-standing collaboration between the University of Rochester/University of Rochester Medical Center (UR/URMC) and the Rochester Institute of Technology’s National Technical Institute for the Deaf (RIT/NTID)—provides tailored support for students at every stage of their academic journey, from high school all the way through postdoctoral training. It’s the only pipeline of its kind in the world. 

But in early April, Koplitz got the news she’d been dreading: Four out five National Institutes of Health (NIH) grants supporting the pipeline had been terminated, and the fifth was in danger of being cut as well. Collectively, the programs estimate they will lose about $3.6 million in future support that was committed in the most recent award and renewal cycles—a drop in the bucket compared with the total NIH budget, but absolutely essential to keep the pipeline running. “This is a real step back,” Koplitz says. “I’m afraid that we’re going to lose the little bit of progress that we’ve made.”

According to official termination notices, the reason given for the cuts is changes in priorities at NIH and its parent agency, the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS). “NIH is dedicated to restoring our agency to its tradition of upholding gold-standard, evidence-based science,” an HHS spokesperson said in response to further questions. “As we begin to Make America Healthy Again, we are prioritizing research to identify the root causes of the chronic disease epidemic.”

The Deaf Scientists Pipeline started in 2013 with the Rochester Bridges to the Doctorate Program, which helps students gain the experience necessary to become candidates for doctoral degree programs. That program, which NIH had continuously funded with more than $4.7 million in support to date, has now been terminated 3 years early; the program is estimated to lose nearly $900,000 in future funding. The Rochester Postdoc Partnership (RPP), which began in 2015 and had received about $5 million to date, has also been canceled—1 year early. The same fate befell the Initiative for Maximizing Student Development, which began just 2 years ago to serve doctoral students and was initially slated to run until 2028. Each of these latter programs is expected to lose out on more than $1 million.

“Right when we are seeing the pipeline really taking off with multiple graduates contributing back to it, it is being destroyed,” says Wyatte Hall, who studies language acquisition and deprivation in Deaf children and serves as a mentor to Koplitz, who works in his lab. Hall was the first graduate of the RPP, and he currently serves as co-director of the Future Deaf Scientists program, which helps empower Deaf high school students to explore careers in science and medicine. This component of the pipeline was established just last year under a grant set to run until 2029. Although that funding—totaling just over $250,000—is still officially in place, Hall believes it is only a matter of time before this program is also terminated.

According to a statement from RIT/NTID and UR/URMC, the universities are exploring avenues for appeal, but it’s unclear whether those efforts will be successful. As for other options to restore the pipeline, Hall says, the Deaf community is small and lacks economic power. “There’s likely nothing we can turn to after these cuts to keep the programs,” he says. “The idea that private funding will step in is not something that has been historically realistic for our community.” Even if funding eventually is restored, he adds, it will likely take decades to rebuild.

“If it wasn’t for these programs that are part of the pipeline, I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am now,” says biomedical scientist Sara Blick-Nitko, who researches cancer treatments as a postdoc at UR. “Growing up, I never had a Deaf mentor. I never knew another Deaf scientist.” She was introduced to the pipeline when she was seeking more research experience after her bachelor’s degree in order to pursue a Ph.D. The bridges program got her into lab rotations and gave her experience with networking and presenting her work at conferences. For her postdoctoral training, she relied on funding from the RPP.

One of the most valuable aspects of the pipeline, Blick-Nitko explains, was the financial support for accessibility services, including closed captioning and interpreters in the lab and at conferences. Not all American Sign Language interpreters are qualified to translate complex research topics, for example, and some scientific terms don’t have standardized ASL signs—although some Deaf scientists are working to change that. “It makes me sound like I don’t know my stuff when I present my science with an interpreter that is not aware of science or my work,” Blick-Nitko says.  

People who participate in the pipeline often end up coming back and contributing, Blick-Nitko says, with some alumni serving as mentors to younger students: “You kind of go full circle.” Koplitz, for example, works with students in the undergraduate portion of the pipeline, founded in 2017. “I really enjoyed meeting these younger students, and that was just really cool to see how motivated and how interested they are,” she says. “It was also kind of bittersweet, because I realized I didn’t have this type of support as an undergrad student myself.” Now that the grant—originally slated to run until 2029—has been terminated, that program is expected to lose out on just under $500,000 worth of future support.

After President Donald Trump took office in January, some students and researchers involved in the pipeline began to worry their programs would be targeted because of executive orders attacking initiatives related to diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility (DEIA). “I saw the warning signs,” says Athena Willis, a neuroscience postdoc at UR. Willis has been particularly impacted by the grant terminations, because there is no alternative funding available for her to continue. Others in the pipeline are also struggling to find alternative sources of support. Koplitz, for example, initially hoped to apply for an NIH individual fellowship. But the diversity supplement for that program has also been cut—one of many accessibility services that have taken a hit as a result of the Trump administration’s attacks on DEIA.

These attacks have outraged many researchers involved the Deaf Scientists Pipeline, who argue that DEIA efforts are essential for the Deaf community—and that dismantling these initiatives undermines science as a whole. “Individuals with disabilities have a lot to contribute,” Blick-Nitko says. “We have a lot of unique perspectives we bring to the world.”

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How I regained my confidence as a scientist through rowing

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From ScienceMag:

It’s 5:25 a.m. on a Thursday and my alarm goes off. I sluggishly get up from bed, add several layers of clothing, and make my way toward the chilly River Cam for my first ever race. As I get closer to the boathouse, doubt and fear start to bubble up. Can I really do this? But when my paddle touches the water, a calmness washes over me. I take it one stroke at a time; if I mess up, I just breathe and keep going. The mindset I’ve developed as a rower keeps me focused and in control—and as we zip down the river, I realize it’s helped me regain my confidence as a scientist, too.

As a child, I was convinced that a career in global health was for me. I dreamt of becoming a doctor and biomedical researcher, envisioning myself as a sort of Black Lara Croft, fearless and daring—except instead of searching for artifacts, I’d create groundbreaking cures and treat patients all around the world.

But as the years progressed, my dream seemed increasingly unattainable. During college, I was one of the only Black students in my STEM courses. It was hard to see myself in a field in which so few people from my background were represented.

As a first-generation student, I also struggled to find guidance on how to reach my career goal. Unlike many of my peers, I did not have family members or connections who were doctors or scientists. I was often told my dream was too ambitious: I wanted to become both a neuroimmunology researcher and a neurosurgeon, helping people in low- and middle-income countries. But my undergraduate advisers were skeptical and suggested I focus on just one field of study.

These experiences shook my confidence and left me questioning my plans. Even after I started my Ph.D., I often felt I didn’t belong there. And I was plagued with doubts about the two massive projects I had taken on. I felt so overwhelmed by everything I would have to do over the next 3 years that I struggled to even get started.

But things changed after I started rowing.

I initially joined my college’s boat club as a way to fully immerse myself in the student experience and develop a community away from home. It seemed like a fun and exciting new opportunity—and I soon found it to be an empowering one, too.

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Within a couple months of starting to row, I’d found a new level of confidence.
  • Jasmine Gabriel Hughes
  • University of Cambridge

Rowing suffers from the same lack of diversity as biomedical research, with very few Black women rowers at my university. When I joined the boat club, I was nervous I would stand out or the rowing community wouldn’t accept me—the same feeling I experienced in science. But despite my initial fears, I was embraced by my fellow rowers, who not only gave me support and guidance to improve my technique, but also made me feel appreciated and valued. As a result, when I’m having my doubts about belonging in science, I now reflect on the fact I’m already doing something I once thought would be impossible for me.

Rowing also helped me develop discipline and a new approach for tackling difficult tasks. At first, I felt overwhelmed by what seemed like unattainable goals, such as rowing nonstop for 2 kilometers in less than 8 minutes. But I realized that by breaking these goals down into smaller steps, I was able to set mini-milestones that were much less intimidating and more feasible.

I began to use a similar strategy in my Ph.D.: By viewing my projects as a series of small goals, they became much more manageable. During the process of designing my first lab experiment, for instance, I started to stress over the complexity of all the procedures involved. But instead of giving in to the fear of being inadequate, I began to focus on how I could make sure each step was successful. Within a couple months of starting to row, I’d found a new level of confidence—both on the water and in the lab.

On that early Thursday morning on the river, I’m so focused on my strokes that I’m surprised when a loud blowhorn goes off. As I catch my breath, it starts to dawn on me that I’ve completed my first race. And suddenly, my future career as physician-scientist finally begins to seem attainable, too.

Do you have an interesting career story? Send it to SciCareerEditor@aaas.org. Read the general guidelines here.

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Sexual misconduct helpline offers support for NSF community

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From ScienceMag:

In their latest intervention to address sexual misconduct in the sciences, the National Science Foundation (NSF) earlier this week launched a crisis helpline for researchers who have experienced sexual harassment, sexual assault, or stalking. The NSF Safer Science Helpline will provide people in the NSF community with 24/7 one-on-one crisis intervention support and can be accessed via text, phone, or online chat. It’s an expansion of a helpline launched in 2023—the first of its kind for a U.S. science agency or institution—for members of the U.S. Antarctic Program, which has been plagued by harassment.

Providing such resources is an important step, says C.K. Gunsalus, a research ethics expert at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. Still, “It doesn’t prevent future issues or recurrence.”

The helpline comes 8 years after the sexual harassment allegations of a Boston University professor at NSF-funded Antarctic research programs brought the #MeToo movement to the sciences. A 2022 external report commissioned by NSF highlighted that sexual harassment was widespread in the U.S. Antarctic Program—59% of women who participated in focus groups had personally experienced or witnessed sexual harassment or assault and 95% knew of someone else who had experienced sexual harassment or assault while in the program.

In response to the report, NSF Director Sethuraman Panchanathan established the Sexual Assault and Harassment Prevention and Response (SAHPR) program, which led the creation of the Antarctica hotline—in collaboration with the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN), an antisexual violence nonprofit. The current expansion replaces the Antarctica helpline and extends those services to all people in the NSF research community.

The resource “helps to advance NSF’s efforts to prevent and effectively respond to sexual assault, sexual harassment and/or stalking,” says Renée Ferranti, special assistant to the director at SAHPR. The service will be operated by RAINN through a contract with NSF.

Visitors to the helpline will receive resources “tailored to the NSF research community,” says Jessica St. Germaine, director of consulting services at RAINN. This differentiates the NSF helpline from RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Helpline. NSF won’t be involved in the distribution of resources when visitors call the line, and the support they receive will be fully confidential. “RAINN will provide NSF aggregate usage data only,” Ferranti says, though she didn’t go into detail about how those data would be used. “No information about the communication will be shared with NSF and the helpline does not collect any personally identifiable information.”

Still, Gunsalus notes people may be hesitant to use the helpline under the current political climate. “Building sufficient trust that it gets used may be a challenge in our current environment, as will assuring its continued availability.”

Vicki Magley, a psychologist at the University of Connecticut who co-authored a 2018 National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine report about sexual harassment says the hotline could help people work through possible incidents of gender harassment, a form of harassment that involves sexist and sexualized insults meant to degrade people; the NASEM report highlighted this as the most ubiquitous but least understood form of sexual harassment. Because gender harassment can lead to more egregious forms of harassment, intervening early could have a substantial impact, Magley says. “Any kind of empowerment that encourages people to articulate what’s happening to them is helpful.”

At the same time, Magley wonders about the future of the helpline, given the cuts underway at NSF. “My primary concern would be that the current administration won’t allow such a hotline to continue and won’t continue funding efforts that would support such a hotline,” she says.

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As a scientist passionate about health equity, my career options are dwindling

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From ScienceMag:

“Dad, here’s your Bible. Do you think I can take 30 minutes to go to the gym? Here’s the phone in case you need me.” I was visiting my childhood home, working remotely on my postdoctoral research while I helped care for my father, who has several physical disabilities—a periodic routine to provide my mother some relief. I began to run on the treadmill, stride after mindless stride, when Fox News on the gym TV brought me back to the present. “We have 1 hour and 7 minutes left in our countdown before all agencies need to terminate all diversity-related positions!” I stopped the treadmill and saw an email from my supervisor at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) saying we needed to talk. My phone buzzed. “I’m sure you know what this call is about.”

That was it. It was only Day 2 of President Donald Trump’s new administration and I was terminated from my part-time role as a scientific diversity adviser at NIH, amid the narrative that those of us working on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) were hired without merit.

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Perseverance can only take me so far.
  • Troy Christopher Dildine
  • Stanford University

It’s a mindset I’ve encountered throughout my training. Growing up in an underresourced rural community, of mixed racial background, I did well in school and wanted to pursue higher education—though I had few examples to follow. I made it to a top university but faced and witnessed persistent dispiriting comments. “You’re only here because of affirmative action,” one fellow student said to me. I overhead a professor say to a Haitian refugee, “This is a tough class; you should consider taking something easier. Do you need me to speak Creole?” Even when such comments were not directed at me, I heard the message: People like us didn’t deserve to be there.

But amid the dejection, I also found determination. I believed I could work harder than my peers and achieve my goal: becoming a professor, studying equity, and advocating for vulnerable student populations. I also found fulfillment as a volunteer, participating in outreach and DEI-related activities, including mentoring underresourced high school students interested in the sciences and pushing for efforts to diversify faculty.

I went on to a Ph.D. studying disparities in how people feel pain and how providers assess it. Even as my research progressed successfully, I met doubters. But my hard-fought self-confidence and a carefully cultivated network of mentors helped me push toward my goal. I also created a diversity group at the NIH institute where I was doing my Ph.D., running weekly meetings and regular events to discuss DEI-related issues in medicine and support researchers from historically underrepresented groups. When I completed my Ph.D. and moved on to a postdoc, I continued my diversity work at NIH, with the blessing of my new university and NIH administrators. It felt like all the pieces were coming together—until it all began to fall apart about 2 years later, in the first week of the new administration.

First came the loss of my job as a diversity adviser. Days later came more bad news. I had spent months preparing an NIH grant proposal. But when I called the program officers, they advised me to pivot away from the health equity research I was proposing, which focused on how discrimination and stigma affect chronic pain. Such research might be less likely to be funded under the new administration, they said. I spent the 2 weeks prior to the deadline, including three sleepless nights, reworking my application to look at social isolation, stress, and psychophysiological responses as they relate to pain. I’m still holding out hope it might get funded. But I can’t ignore the fact that my updated proposal no longer speaks directly to the passions that originally spurred me to pursue a Ph.D.

Despite the narratives currently rampaging in the United States that people of color are “DEI hires” lacking merit, I am finally confident in my abilities as a scientist. However, perseverance can only take me so far. I feel fortunate to have the relative privileges I do, but I feel my chances of becoming an academic scientist are dwindling. In this transitional stage of my career, I don’t have 4 years to hunker down and wait it out.

Do you have an interesting career story? Send it to SciCareerEditor@aaas.org. Read the general guidelines here.

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International students in the U.S. are reeling amid revoked visas and terminated records

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From ScienceMag:

For one engineer who recently graduated from a U.S. university, the termination of his record in a government database used to track international students has meant uncertainty about whether he will be able to stay in the United States—and continue to provide for his family back home in Nigeria.

For a biochemist working in health science after earning her doctoral degree in the United States, a similar termination came the week she was selected for a coveted H-1B visa, used by employers to hire skilled foreign workers in specialty occupations. “I finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel,” she says, “then everything I worked hard to obtain was taken away all of the sudden.”

And for a postdoc in computer science, the termination has meant filing a lawsuit to prevent his deportation.

These are a handful of the thousands of international students and recent graduates who have had their ability to study and work in the U.S. called into question by President Donald Trump’s administration in recent weeks. Those affected include undergraduate and graduate students, as well as recent degree recipients who have stayed in the country to work through a temporary employment program called Optional Practical Training (OPT). Some are fighting back with federal lawsuits, filed in courts around the country. Still, many are reeling, feeling panicked and overwhelmed. “It feels like we’re getting caught up in something that’s changing fast and doesn’t give us a chance to defend ourselves,” one undergraduate international student says. Many others hesitated to speak publicly out of fear of attracting the attention of the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency.

According to numbers shared with the American Immigration Lawyers Association, since Trump took office ICE has terminated more than 4700 international student records in the government’s Student and Exchange Visitor Information System (SEVIS), an online system used by the Department of Homeland Security to track international students who come to the U.S. to attend school.

Over the past few weeks, more than 180 universities have notified their students of a SEVIS termination. By itself, a termination does not end a student’s status or require them to leave the U.S. right away, says immigration attorney Clay Greenberg. But in many recent cases, a SEVIS termination has been followed by an email from the government informing the student that their visa has been revoked, putting the student at risk of deportation proceedings.

Observers say some of the SEVIS terminations appear to be linked to a student’s involvement in a protest or public expressions of political views. Others appear to be based on a student’s run-in with the law—including violations as common as a speeding ticket or ones that occurred many years in the past. For some, a termination occurred even if the case had been dismissed or records expunged. The biochemist who had just been selected for the H-1B, for example, had a misdemeanor charge dismissed more than 10 years ago. “A mistake made in high school came haunting me all over again,” says the researcher, who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of repercussions

In other instances, terminated scholars are dumbfounded as to why the government has ended their SEVIS record. For example, the computer science postdoc, originally from India, says he has no criminal record or involvement in protests. As he waits for his lawsuit to move forward, “I’m afraid to even leave my apartment,” he says.

Federal judges have given relief to a student in a seemingly similar position. On 9 April, a federal court in New Hampshire temporarily restored the F-1 student status of a Chinese Ph.D. student at Dartmouth College, also studying computer science, who had a SEVIS termination. The student had never committed a crime or traffic violation, or participated in a protest in the U.S, according to court records.

The Trump administration’s actions are “putting fear in the hearts of hundreds and hundreds of students who shouldn’t be having to deal with this at this time,” Greenberg says. Many are working in science and technology fields through the OPT program, he notes, “contributing to our employers, our economy, and the growth of knowledge in our country.” OPT permits typically last for 1 year, but workers in science, technology, engineering, or math fields can apply for a 2-year extension.

Universities are also worried about how the administration’s efforts to remove some international students will affect enrollments. Foreign students bring in millions of dollars in tuition revenue and help keep many graduate programs afloat, administrators note. At East Texas A&M University, for example, as many as two-thirds of the students in its physics graduate program come from abroad, says department head Kurtis Williams. Their contribution to research and teaching “allows our little program, which actually brings in a fair amount of external research funding, to continue to survive and thrive,” he says. When Williams found out last week that the government had revoked the visa of one of his recent graduates, “it really hit home.” He’s “gravely concerned” about what that will mean for the student’s future.

Noncitizen students are more than just economic assets, says Anastasia Lyulina, a biology Ph.D. student at Stanford University. “We are individuals with our own hopes, feelings, and aspirations.” And there’s only so much more they can take. “There’s a quiet strength among international students, but the constant uncertainty over losing our legal status at any moment—without notice, reason, or due process—weighs heavily on us,” Lyulina says.

Many are fighting to stay—but the struggle is leaving its mark. “I’m going to keep trying to maintain the life that I have here,” the engineer from Nigeria says. “But what life am I fighting for if people don’t want me here?”

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After Trump grant cuts, some universities give researchers a lifeline

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From ScienceMag:

Last fall, Keith Maggert’s grant proposal to the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to extend his work in chromosome biology and gene regulation received a score from reviewers that put it over the threshold for funding. Final approval was due in February, but turmoil at NIH delayed it until late May, leaving him with a gap in supporting his fly genetics lab at the University of Arizona (UA).

This week, however, he received $37,619 in short-term support from another source: his own university. The money will allow him to continue to pay two graduate students and buy needed supplies. Maggert is one of seven UA faculty members to date who have benefited from the university’s new “bridge” program, designed for those whose research has been disrupted by the wave of spending cuts and freezes in grantmaking by President Donald Trump and his administration.

Several U.S. universities are taking similar steps to assist their researchers in dire straits. They’re experimenting with different flavors—for example, some are helping faculty reimagine their research programs while others try to ensure their doctoral students are able to complete their degrees. Most aren’t sharing how much money they are committing to these efforts, though wealthier institutions probably can do more to keep labs afloat. And all bridge programs are likely to be oversubscribed.

Still, the current moment calls for action, administrators say. “This is unprecedented and uncharted waters,” says Wendy Hensel, president of the University of Hawaii (UH) System, which has launched a bridge program focused on students in labs whose grants have been cut. “During the COVID pandemic, we received significant support from the federal and state government. The difference here is, there will be no one riding to the rescue.”

Bridge programs aren’t new. Research universities historically have used them when faculty members hit a bump in the road in winning federal grants. But the series of land mines the Trump administration has detonated since 20 January, including the dismantling of several agencies, decrees banning certain types of research, and the threats to some universities’ entire research portfolios, raise a new set of challenges.

As universities seek ways to sustain their researchers, Yale School of Medicine is among the most generous. It is making an unspecified amount of money available, on a competitive basis, to faculty members whose existing NIH grant has been “precipitously” terminated or whose pending proposal has been frozen. “The idea is to preserve our investment in individual faculty as well as in their research, and frankly, to preserve the investment of taxpayers as well,” says the medical school’s dean, Nancy Brown. Faculty can request up to 90% of the amount being blocked, according to a notice posted when the program was announced on 18 February.

Before submitting a proposal, the notice says, applicants must consult with colleagues on how best to “reimagine” their research. The idea is to help faculty “pivot,” Brown says, either to a topic the government is more likely to support or to a more receptive federal agency. “It has to be a bridge to somewhere,” she explains.

Other institutions are more constrained in responding to faculty requests. As Vassilis Syrmos, vice president for research and innovation at UH, puts it, “We don’t have the financial capacity to be a sponsor of the type of research in which we excel.”

Instead, UH is focusing on the graduate students of faculty members who have lost grants, with help from the UH Foundation, which raises money for the university from private donors. “Of course we care about our faculty and staff, but our primary obligation is to our students,” Hensel says. “So priority number one is to find an alternative source of funding that allows them to continue to progress in their research and their degree program.”

Syrmos is hoping the foundation will raise $500,000 over the next 6 to 12 months to rescue as many as a quarter of the 750 UH graduate students in science and engineering who he estimates will be affected by the cutbacks. The university has already received termination and stop-work orders for 32 projects ranging from community-based health research to oceanography, a number he expects to grow.

At the University of Massachusetts (UMass), students are also likely to be key beneficiaries. Michael Malone, UMass’s vice president for research, says he expects requests to pay graduate student stipends will soak up most of the money set aside for its bridge program. He says UMass is also prepared to support requests for additional equipment and supplies if needed for a student to complete their doctoral work.

Most universities with bridge programs have set limits on how much they will contribute. UMass and the University of Michigan both require the faculty member’s department to match the university’s contribution. At UA, Tomás Díaz de la Rubia, senior vice president for research and innovation, says the university wants its faculty to remain productive despite the Trump administration–ordered cuts, but won’t support researchers proposing to move into a new area. And if the federal government reopens the spigot, most institutions will require faculty to return any bridge funding they receive.

Columbia University, where the Trump administration has put hundreds of millions of dollars in federal research grants in jeopardy, declined to say whether it plans any type of competititive bridge program. But in a 4 April letter to the community, acting President Claire Shipman said the university “has made a near-term commitment to pay the salaries and stipends of those affected, as we work to restore funding and consider alternative funding mechanisms.”

An institution’s endowment may seem like an obvious source of alternative funding; Columbia’s amounted to $14.8 billion last year. But college presidents are loath to tap the principal. And university administrators insist that most of the earnings from that pot of money are already earmarked for other purposes, notably student financial aid and construction of new research facilities.

Instead, most universities are turning to the federal funds they already receive to reimburse them for providing the facilities and administrative support needed to do research. But those funds, known as indirect costs, are also under attack from the Trump administration and congressional Republicans, who have accused universities of accumulating a “slush fund” by overcharging the government in negotiating individual payment rates.

In February, NIH proposed to slash those rates, potentially depriving grantee institutions of billions of dollars annually. Last week, after a federal judge permanently blocked the move, the government appealed her ruling to a higher court.

The dispute may be one reason most institutions have declined to announce how much they intend to spend on bridge programs. If universities with uncapped bridge programs like Yale’s are to fully meet the demand from faculty in the months to come, that could come to millions of dollars. “Nobody wants to look like they have extra money lying around to support faculty and graduate students if the government shuts down their research,” says one university administrator who requested anonymity to speak freely about the sensitive issue.

To respond more quickly to the current crisis, Syrmos says UH may increase the share of its indirect cost payments that go into a central pot, now 25%, to boost the potential budget of its bridge program. But he says UH will never be able to make up for the missing federal support. Operating the university’s research vessel costs from $35,000 to $50,000 a day, he notes, meaning a 2-week cruise could eat up the entire sum being raised by the foundation.

“Our bridge program is just a way to provide them with a soft landing while we try to figure out how to solve the problem in the long run,” Syrmos says. “And that could require a new business model.”

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Germany creates ‘super–high-tech ministry’ for research, technology, and aerospace

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From ScienceMag:

Germany will get a new “super–high-tech ministry” responsible for research, technology, and aerospace, according to the coalition agreement published by the incoming government this week.

The announcement is one of several nods to science in the 144-page agreement, unveiled on 9 April following weeks of negotiations between the center-right Christian Democrats (CDU) and its sister party, the Christian Social Union in Bavaria (CSU)—who together won the most seats in February’s federal elections—and the center-left Social Democrats. The agreement is expected to be formally approved by the three parties by early May, paving the way for CDU leader Friedrich Merz to be elected chancellor.

Under the plans, the current Ministry of Research and Education will be split. A new ministry for research, technology, and aerospace will be formed, and the education portfolio will be taken over by the current ministry for family, seniors, women, and youth. It is the first time in 3 decades that German research and technology will be under the same ministry, with research separate from education.

That’s a positive move, says Georg Schütte, CEO of the Volkswagen Foundation, the largest independent research funder in Germany. “I’m quite happy there’s a realignment,” he says. “Things are coming together that belong together.” Technology and aerospace, until now governed by the economics ministry, are intertwined with research, he says, and the division between science and education better reflects how responsibilities are divided at the European Union’s ministers’ council, which negotiates and adopts EU laws and budgets.

The agreement stipulates that the CSU will be in charge of the “super–high-tech ministry,” as party leader Markus Söder called it in a press conference this week. The CSU has not proposed a minister yet, but it’s widely expected that Dorothee Bär, who was in charge of “digital infrastructure” in previous governments under former Chancellor Angela Merkel, will get the nod.

The new agreement lists a number of scientific priorities for the new government, including support for artificial intelligence, quantum technologies, biotechnology, microchip development and production, and fusion energy. “Our goal is that the world’s first fusion reactor should be realized in Germany,” the text states. It also mentions personalized medicine, oceans research, and sustainability research as “strategic” areas. But the agreement does not include any budget estimates, and observers caution it is unclear where the money for new programs would come from. The agreement does affirm current commitments to increase the budgets of the country’s main research organizations by 3% per year through 2030.

In a section titled “scientific freedom,” the document seems to refer at least obliquely to developments in the United States, where scientists working on topics such as gender, global health, and climate change have seen their funding slashed and important data sets have been scrubbed from the websites of federal agencies. “Funding decisions will be based on science-driven criteria,” the document states. “It seems like that should be a no-brainer, but we have seen how quickly it can change,” says Eva Winkler, an oncologist and medical ethicist at Heidelberg University and a member of the German Ethics Council. The parties also state they “want to safeguard scientifically relevant data sets whose existence is threatened and keep them accessible worldwide.”

Germany could benefit from the political upheaval in the U.S. and elsewhere, the document suggests. The government plans to launch a program called 1000 Minds, to attract international talent and “maintain Germany as an attractive destination” during an era of polarization. The parties have not provided details, but Winkler says she hopes the program will “make it easier to recruit the best international people.” Current practices can make international hires especially complicated, she says.

The parties also gave a nod to science’s role in building up Germany’s military and defense capabilities, Schütte notes. The new government plans to expand peace and conflict research and will “enable more targeted cooperation” between researchers at public institutions, companies, and the military to work on security and defense research. This has long been a sensitive topic in Germany, where many universities have adopted a pledge not to work on military or dual-use research. Those pledges have quietly been dropped in many places, Schütte says. Germany needs a new alignment of defense policy and research policy, but “we do not yet know how to do this,” he says. “We have to come to grips with it.”

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How I finally found my confidence as a scientist

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From ScienceMag:

“How does one become so knowledgeable?” I asked myself while watching a renowned professor give a lecture to a large audience. I admired everything about her: the revolutionary discoveries she had made, her passionate tone of voice, the clarity of her explanations. My research seemed so trivial in comparison and my skills so limited. As a postdoc entering my fifth year, I knew I was expected to start applying for faculty positions. However, I felt far short of the level of competence and confidence needed to become a professor. “What will I do with my life?” I thought. “I will never be good enough for science.”

When I completed a doctoral program in mathematical biology, I wasn’t sure where I saw my career going. I considered working for banks or other companies. But satisfying my curiosity and thirst for knowledge as a postdoc seemed way more exciting than any other job could be.

There was something addictive about research. I could lie awake for hours trying to understand my results or thinking about how to perfect my figures or craft the perfect introduction for a paper. Mathematical biology enabled me to satisfy my broader curiosity, as the computational skills I was acquiring could be used to tackle problems spanning the natural and social sciences. So, after my first postdoc, I started a new one, and later, a third.

The problem was what to do afterward. When people would ask me, “What would you like to do next?” and I had no answer to give, I tried not to worry. But my peers all seemed certain they wanted to become professors one day. They seemed to find every scientific conversation fascinating. I liked talking about science, too, but I would often have preferred to talk about books, hiking, or traveling. They were convinced their research was going to make a difference in the world. My research was fun, but I doubted it could ever be useful. They asked sharp questions in seminars. I could not get rid of the feeling that I was just pretending.

It was only during my third postdoc that I experienced a change of mindset. It happened after I volunteered to co-lead a group of scientists writing a perspective piece about what future research was needed in our field. After reading the first draft, the senior investigators on the team commented that, although the piece still needed some significant changes, it was suitable for submission to a high-impact journal.

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Maybe I needed to value my own skills and expertise a little more highly?
  • Maria Martignoni
  • Georgia Institute of Technology

Up to then, I had focused on publishing in discipline-specific journals. So I replied skeptically, saying that although I appreciated their optimism, such journals were out of my reach. They insisted we could do it. “We will follow your lead,” they said.

This statement awakened something in me. Clearly, they saw me as knowledgeable and competent, and as someone with important things to say. Maybe I needed to value my own skills and expertise a little more highly?

I decided to do my best to improve the article—spending more than a year reading dozens of papers, leading group discussions, and editing the article. The process was long and tedious, and we’re still not sure where it’ll be published. But the more time I dedicated to it, the more knowledgeable I felt, and the more my confidence grew.

Leading the writing of that article made me realize I have become an expert in my field. I now know I can make a difference in science, and I finally feel it is the right path for me. I’m grateful my mentors never stopped believing in me and allowed me to stick around long enough to gain confidence in my abilities. Now, I feel ready to apply for tenure-track positions.

When students ask me for advice, I tell them that one does not need to have a clear life plan to belong in science. Many scientists know from the start that they want to be academic researchers. But for others the path unfolds gradually, with spurts of doubt and uncertainty along the way. In a way, that’s fitting. As researchers we are explorers, and part of our mission involves finding our way without always knowing where we are going.

Do you have an interesting career story? Send it to SciCareerEditor@aaas.org. Read the general guidelines here.

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NSF slashes graduate fellowship program

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From ScienceMag:

The National Science Foundation (NSF) has cut in half the number of graduate students receiving its prestigious research fellowship program for the upcoming academic year. NSF is not saying why, but the agency is facing a constrained budget.

The 1000 fellows announced today—a number available by searching NSF’s database of awards and widely reported on social media, although not confirmed by NSF despite a request by Science—compare with 2037 awards made last year and 2555 in 2023. At the same time, the annual stipend, which is good for 3 years, remains $37,000, and universities will continue to receive $16,000 per student in tuition subsidies.

“Good news and bad news,” research psychologist David Miller said in a posting on Bluesky. “I’m *thrilled* for the grad students for whom getting this award will be life-changing. … [But] the # of fellowships went down by 51%.”

The plunge in fellowships could reflect NSF’s expectation of a darkening budget picture. Last month, Congress passed a 2025 spending bill that holds the agency’s budget flat at just over $9 billion. But President Donald Trump wants to remove $234 million for construction projects from that total because he disagrees with a decision by Congress to designate them as emergency spending.

NSF has not said how much money in total will go this year to its education directorate, which supports the fellowships. The directorate received $1.172 billion in 2024 and $1.371 billion in 2023.

“A subsequent announcement of additional awardees is possible subject to future resourcing considerations,” according to an NSF spokesperson, opening the door to a possible second round of winners from among the 3018 students receiving an honorable mention. But the chances of that happening appear slim.

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After a hurricane, I felt guilty continuing my studies abroad—but I’m glad I did

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From ScienceMag:

The email came 2 weeks after Hurricane Maria ravaged Puerto Rico. I was an undergraduate student at the University of Puerto Rico-Río Piedras and my honors program wanted to know whether I would be interested in an opportunity to temporarily continue my studies elsewhere. Brown University, a school I’d never heard of, was offering 30 of us the chance to take classes there while our university recovered. Amid the devastating news of thousands of deaths and billions of dollars in damage to the island, the offer seemed too good to be true. However, my family encouraged me to go, and soon I found myself on a private flight to Rhode Island. The hurricane had blown me off my planned course, and set me on an unexpected path toward a Ph.D.

I started college dreaming of becoming a forensic pathologist. I wanted to help give a voice to those who could no longer speak. I would need a medical degree, so I enrolled as a premed biology major and focused on my first-year coursework. Research wasn’t on my radar, partly because such opportunities in Puerto Rico were limited.

The following year, the hurricane hit. I felt oddly optimistic before the storm—thinking we’d get a few days off and life would go on, just as it always had. Instead, the Category 5 monster leveled our communities, leaving people without power or water for months. Days passed before we could reconnect with loved ones. When I finally saw my grandmother, she hugged me tightly, crying, “I was so scared something happened to you.”

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Unexpected challenges can create opportunities for growth and redirection.
  • Melanie Ortiz Alvarez De La Campa
  • Brown University

On the flight north, which was chartered by Brown, everything felt surreal—leather seats, fresh fruit, and, after landing, a reception in a mansion. I felt conflicted. Here I was, feeling joy and wonder at a new experience, while everyone back home struggled.

Brown set us up with classes, books, dorm rooms, and funds to purchase winter clothes. It was in one of those classes, an introductory biology course, that my trajectory began to shift. I was captivated by the professor’s lecture and, on a whim, reached out after class. To my surprise, he immediately offered me a research position in his lab.

I was assigned to work on a project that involved modeling how climate change could alter the distributions of plants across North America. The research opened my eyes to the important work scientists were doing to address urgent, relevant questions.

I began to see a path in science beyond medicine, and at Brown I had the resources to follow it. I had direct access to faculty, state-of-the-art research facilities, and a supportive academic environment. As the academic year came to a close, I stayed on to do a summer research program, where I fell in love with microbiology.

I began to think a Ph.D. was what I wanted. Yet, despite the excitement, I felt doubtful, anxious, and guilty. I struggled to reconcile my new opportunities with the devastation back home. I also worried about leaving behind my dream of medicine to pursue a path that I was excited about but that might not lead to a job in Puerto Rico.

Before I left Brown, my summer research mentor told me, “If you ever want to pursue a Ph.D., I’d be honored to mentor you.” After I confided in him about my conflicted feelings on the future, he replied: “There’s nothing better than doing what excites you.” The words felt like permission to follow my passion.

Back in Puerto Rico, I spent my final years doing all I could to get myself admitted to graduate school. And 3 years later, I returned to Brown—this time as a Ph.D. student. Fittingly, my first weekend back brought a hurricane to Rhode Island. It felt oddly like home.

Now that I’m in the fourth year of my Ph.D., my journey has taught me that unexpected challenges can create opportunities for growth and redirection. My pivot from medicine to research wasn’t a loss, but an acknowledgement of where I could have the greatest impact while still doing something that excites me.

Do you have an interesting career story? Send it to SciCareerEditor@aaas.org. Read the general guidelines here.

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