In December 2018, roughly a week before Christmas, in the middle of snowy Michigan winter, I stepped into the control room of a nuclear physics experiment for the very first time. I had just joined Michigan State University as a PhD student in August of that year, where the first semester was mostly spent taking classes and performing teaching assistant duties. My advisor encouraged me to participate in an experiment to get started with research and learn a few things. So I signed up for a couple of shifts. But I felt underprepared, underconfident, and honestly, even a little terrified when stepping into the control room that day.
  
As many of you might relate, being thrown into a high-stakes, ongoing experimental campaign can be exciting as well as unnerving at the same time. There’s no time for gentle hand-holding or foundational lectures when the beam is on and the data is coming in. Everyone around you is moving quickly, making decisions based on graphs that seem like hieroglyphics, communicating in a language of acronyms, shorthand, and intuition built from years of experience.

Your role as the new grad student? Keep your head down, watch a few key parameters, and log some values every hour. That is, of course, an important contribution to any experiment! However, I felt as if I was looking at some complex machinery that I would never be able to figure out completely. 

Although I had some undergraduate research experience, this was on a completely different level. I remember staring at a cluttered screen of diagnostics, afraid to do something wrong or break a working piece of code. I watched in awe as others interpreted plots I couldn’t make any sense of and took real-time decisions about detector voltages, beam steering, or data-taking strategies. I couldn't imagine ever being able to contribute meaningfully, and I walked away from that first shift feeling like I’d learned almost nothing.

Later, when I got back home, I gathered the courage to write to my mentor, who is a well-established scientist in our field. I poured out my insecurities, expecting a half-hearted generic reassurance. But their response was surprising! They told me they had felt exactly the same during their first experiments. Really? That overwhelming sensation of being completely lost is apparently, totally normal. And their advice was simple - find someone who knows more than you, and ask them basic, even ‘dumb’ questions.

So I started doing that. I reached out to the postdocs in our group, especially the ones who seemed patient and approachable. I’d corner them at coffee breaks, lunch breaks, and even before/after meetings and seminars, and ask basic things like, “What exactly does a PID plot show?” or “Why do we need calibration runs both before and after the experiment?” I found that they were always happy to answer, and their response mostly made sense. In scientific experiments, everything is usually done the way it is for very specific reasons. And as I uncovered those reasons one by one, I started to gain some much-needed confidence.

However, what really cemented my learning was getting hands-on. Once I began working on my own project in the lab where I was handling detectors, wiring up electronics, and troubleshooting data acquisition issues, I found that things finally started to stick. Concepts that had felt abstract during the experiment suddenly made sense when I physically encountered them. There’s no substitute for hands-on experience in experimental science. When you get your hands ‘dirty’ you build an intuitive understanding that no amount of documentation or lectures can ever provide.

By the time the next experiment rolled I had a different mindset. I started volunteering for simple tasks like powering up detectors or sorting online data. I made sure to read the ‘Run Plan’ - a document that outlines what we’re trying to do and how we’re going to do it ahead of time. I began attending the pre-experiment briefings more attentively. These usually include a presentation that walks through the motivation, the setup, and the expected outcomes. And I asked questions, lots of them, until I was satisfied with my understanding.

These incremental changes added up. Each experiment brought a new layer of understanding. Soon, I was able to contribute more meaningfully to discussions. I even started training others during their first shifts. This was something I never thought I’d be capable of looking back at that first winter in Michigan.
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Experiments can be chaotic, messy, and emotionally taxing. But they are also where physics comes to life. Embracing the chaos, asking questions, and building relationships are the best ways to grow in this field. And one day, not too far from now, you’ll be the one explaining a PID plot to the next nervous newbie.

​Figure: The SuN (Left) and NERO (Right) Detector Setup at the Facility for Rare Isotope Beams (FRIB) at Michigan State University. The author used these detectors for their Ph.D. thesis experiments.

As a graduate student, you’ll definitely have the chance to attend an academic conference at some point—whether to share your research with the scientific community or deepen your knowledge. Conferences are a great opportunity to realize how many people are deeply invested in your field and how much you can learn from them. I still remember the excitement of my first conference in the U.S. I was visiting Michigan for the first time and finally presenting my early research findings as a poster presentation. But I didn’t think much about networking—whether I should or how to do it. During the five days of the conference, I spent all my coffee breaks, lunch hours, and even the time between the sessions internally panicking. Though I was outgoing back home in Korea, working alone on a research project for a year or two made me more introverted. I was also nervous about speaking in English, and I felt a lot of pressure to ask questions that would show I truly understood people’s research. As a result, despite meeting a few new people from all over the U.S., many of my conversations ended up being awkward. After attending a few more conferences, I realized that networking at a conference is much more formal and intentional than casually meeting a friend of a friend in your neighborhood. Now, I’d like to share some tips I’ve learned through trial and error. It is like dating for the first time—reading about it won’t fully prepare you for the experience, but knowing what to expect and preparing mentally can save you from the panic I went through. So, let’s walk through some ideas.
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1. Communicating with Presenters
   As you listen to a talk, come up with one or two questions. I know it can sometimes be tough to follow a presentation that's outside your field. However, that works in your favor! It’s new, so you can come up with questions just by trying to get the basics. You can ask during the Q&A or chat with the speaker after the session. Try something like, "Hi, I really enjoyed your talk on X. I’m working on something similar to Y, and I was wondering what you think about Z."
   When talking to poster presenters, take a few minutes to quickly skim their posters and figure out what they’re trying to convey. Posters usually contain condensed research, so asking the presenter to explain it can make things clearer—plus, they’re usually ready to give a brief explanation. If you don’t know where to start, simply ask, “Could you give me a brief overview of your research?” From there, the conversation will flow naturally. And once it does, feel free to ask follow-up questions.
   By the way, worried about speaking in English? Don’t be. Science is our shared language, and from a presenter’s perspective, any question is appreciated. Just engage with confidence—that’s all that matters.
   
   
2. Running Into Someone
   Preparation is key. Have a brief, clear two- to three-sentence introduction about your research ready. Be proactive—don’t wait around! At some point, you’ll bump into someone. Just say 'Hi!' first and introduce yourself. Most people are eager to connect, so they’ll appreciate the initiative. When you start the conversation, ask about their research and show genuine interest. 
   When it’s your turn, explain your work in an engaging way and be ready to answer any questions enthusiastically. If you see potential for collaboration or future discussions, exchange contact details like email or LinkedIn. This will help you maintain connections beyond the conference.
   
   
3. Conversing Naturally at Informal Gatherings
   As an international student, I’ve found that the most common topic for small talk is the weather. It’s an easy icebreaker! You can talk about the weather at the conference location or ask about their home city or research institution. Also, asking about the area itself is a great conversation starter—maybe you’ll visit someday or even consider working there.
   Ask questions that will encourage your conversation partner to share more, like: "What year are you in?", "How is your research going?", "What are your career plans?" or "How do you unwind during breaks?" Even if the conversation is awkward at first, it will gradually become more natural, and you'll build rapport.
   
   

And last but not least-- make sure to get plenty of rest after each day’s schedule! Recharge your social battery and stay energized.
The more conferences you go to, the easier it gets to network. While meeting new researchers may feel exciting and intimidating at the same time at first, keep in mind that you’ll only spend about 5-10 days per year at these events, assuming you attend one or two conferences annually. So, make the most of the opportunities ahead, and if you found any of my tips helpful or discovered new ones, feel free to share them in the comments!

If you are reading this post then you might be working in a foreign laboratory, or perhaps you are in your own country but have problems finding your place among your new international colleagues, or maybe you just find this topic interesting.  In any case, you are welcome to this space where I will try to shed some light on this topic by sharing my experiences on different occasions of working with people from around the world! Nowadays, science has benefited from new communication technologies, which allow faster and farther connections, and it is more common to be part of international collaborations of any size. Also, it is easier to travel around the world for research stays with your collaborators, thanks to initiatives like IReNA, that promote exchange of knowledge and skills. Without any distinction, theoreticians and experimental scientists/students could find themselves moving to new countries for their jobs. It could be for a short time, due to a workshop or conference, or for longer due to a postdoc or a permanent position at a laboratory/university. Unavoidably, during these trips, academics will interact with people from different backgrounds who are also at different stages of their careers. In that case, wouldn’t it be a great idea to take the initiative to understand the kind of issues that might arise during these interactions and how to mitigate them in order to create a healthy work environment for everyone?

Thanks to my trajectory, I have been fortunate to team up with people from Latin America, Europe, and the US at different times while visiting other countries like Romania, Spain, France, Italy, and Colombia. Sometimes you will be lucky to be in a very similar culture to the one you are from, but more often than not you will end up in a completely different society. You could still feel quite lost with even slight differences from what you are used to. In my opinion, two of the main problems that arise when working with people from different backgrounds are miscommunication problems and cultural shocks. The latter, according to C. Ward (1998), is described as an occupational disease and it is related to fear, anxiety, anger, and feelings of helplessness by people who suddenly find themselves living abroad [1]. Both phenomena, I think, have the same origin: the other person's reaction or interpretation of what we have said/done does not match our expectations or intentions.  

On one hand, it is easy to misunderstand other people even in our native language; let alone when two people from different states or even countries try to communicate with each other. This miscommunication could be due to the different accents, different usages of some words, and different ways of expressing themselves. As an example, there have been many times when talking with a foreign teammate, where at the end of the conversation we realized we were talking about completely different topics. In my experience, the best way to resolve such misunderstandings is to go all the way back to the beginning of the conversation and repeat, using more simple words, what you want to express. In that way, you can track your way in the conversation to the point where both of you agree on the meaning and move forward to the part that created the disconnect. As a result, you will build, little by little, a common context that will help avoid future misunderstandings. 

Cultural shocks are commonly encountered when visiting or living in a different country, even if their cultural differences are minimal. During my first trip to Spain, despite Spanish being my native language, I was somehow confused by the usage of the language there. While in Spain they are used to direct speech, which at first seemed rude to me, in Mexico we are not so straightforward. It took me a while to distinguish between when a person was really angry from their usual mood while socializing. I guess that it is hard to realize that the things that we take for granted in our homes are not commonly found in other places. 

Cultural adaptation may have different stages, which vary according to the demographic of the one experiencing it. Let me give you an example: you may have heard about the U-curve of cultural adjustment that says the adaptation process is composed of 4 phases: the honeymoon, the culture shock, the recovery, and the adjustment [2]. But, according to a study by C. Dailey-Strand (2021) [3], the process is more like a J-curve for foreign students, who do not experience the honeymoon stage, but rather face the cultural challenges first (see Figure 1). However, early social activities seeking integration into the host culture at the beginning of the stay are quite helpful in overcoming this first stage. So, if your team has gained a new member, a little guidance and understanding could make a huge difference in their experience. In case you are the new member, you should avoid isolation and try to look for social events where you can meet other international students at first. Furthermore, do not be afraid to try new activities or get deeper into the host society which will help you to know more people. The good news for you is that, after each time, it becomes a little bit easier to integrate into a new culture.

To summarize, you will face multiple challenges within your multicultural team mainly related to miscommunication and lack of a sense of belonging. While facing communication misunderstandings, a good way to resolve this problem is to create a common context within the team. As your time working as a group increases, your context will grow, and miscommunication will decrease over time. While dealing with cultural shocks can be difficult, you will benefit from being open-minded and trying new things. And although it is difficult to preserve your cultural identity in a new place, it should not stop you from trying new things and adopting local traditions from people you meet in your new life. This will enrich your point of view and expand your horizons.

I hope reading about these brief experiences will help you when working abroad or when a new member joins your work team! If you have experiences of your own where you have faced similar problems, and you want to share them, I would like to hear from you.


​References
[1] C. Ward, Y. Okura, A. Kennedy, and T. Kojima, Int. J. Intercultural Rel. 22 No 3, pages 277-291 (1998). https://doi.org/10.1016/S0147-1767(98)00008-X 
[2] B. Alamri, ELT 11 No 12 (2018). https://doi.org/10.5539/elt.v11n12p77
[3] C. Dailey-Strand, H. Collins, and D. Callaghan, JCIHE 13 Issue 4, pages 73-84 (2021). http://www.doi.org/10.32674/jcihe.v13i4.3267