When I was invited by Ikue Mori to speak at the IBR2008 symposium, I expected the meeting to be much like the dozens of other neuroscience meetings that I've attended. For the most part, this was true: although I was unable to fully appreciate the sessions presented in Japanese, the science appeared to be addressing the latest issues in the field, and the location was pleasant, especially in contrast to the heat of Tokyo and especially Nagoya in early August. But there were two aspects of the meeting that came as pleasant surprises.
My lab is at the Janelia Farm Research Campus, which is a non-profit neuroscience research institute funded entirely by the Howard Hughes Medical Institute. For decades, HHMI has been funding the best biological researchers in the U.S., and as such, when an event is associated with HHMI, it tends to attract attention. Therefore, at Janelia Farm, I've had the pleasure of attending conferences with some of the best and brightest researchers from the U.S. and around the world. I was pleased to note that the invited speakers to IBR2008 included a number of speakers who had come to Janelia. I was also pleased to find the level of scientific discourse at IBR2008 to be of the same high quality to which I am accustomed. I should not say that this was a surprise, as I had expected a high scientific quality, but I was glad that I was not disappointed.
The true surprise for me was the questions. At most conferences I've been to, a talk scheduled for an hour will have at most ten minutes devoted to questions. When I received the instructions for the IBR2008 symposium, however, I was very surprised to see that only 35 minutes was set aside for the talk, and 25 minutes were devoted to questions. Could this actually work, I wondered? Would people be willing to ask so many questions? Would the questions be interesting, or would they grow dull and repetitive just to fill up time? I was pleased to discover that the questions were insightful and probing, and that the twenty-five minutes of questions and discussion were even more enlightening than the lectures themselves. This is, I think, a key aspect of science that is too often shortchanged in the U.S.: the exchange of ideas-not just the delivery of ideas from a speaker to the audience-and a frank and detailed discussion of problems and drawbacks of various methods. I was delighted by the engaging question sessions after each talk in the English sessions. I assume that I would have been equally delighted by the Japanese sessions if I knew Japanese.
My talk, I thought, might make it especially difficult for people to ask good questions. My research involves developing advanced microscopy tools to enable monitoring of the activity of the whole C. elegans brain. This is a departure from a normal neuroscience talk in two ways. First, vertebrate neuroscience is by far the most popular. We are vertebrates, so this is understandable. But as an undergraduate at the University of California at Berkeley, I learned in my physics classes the incredible value of working on simplified systems. If you want to understand how molecules work, you don't start with cholesterol (although it is a fascinating and important molecule). You start with a hydrogen molecule: just two protons and two electrons, a simple system in which you can work out some of the fundamental principles by which molecules, groups of atoms, behave differently than isolated ones. To me, C. elegans is the hydrogen molecule of the neuroscience world: 302 neurons, with a well-known pattern of connectivity, and a variety of simple yet interesting behaviors, including simple forms of short-term and long-term learning. This, it seems to me, is one of the best systems to study if one wants to uncover some of the basic principles of how networks of neurons function differently than isolated ones.