Reminders From a Grateful FFAR Fellow

The realization arrived slowly, then all at once. I was the project lead for a 200‑calf trial, responsible for daily measurements that shifted according to each calf’s birthday over 15 months. At first, the solution seemed simple: hire help, stay organized and keep moving. But when a second trial involving adult cows launched at the same time, the workload multiplied overnight. I brought on more students, conducted interview after interview and assembled what felt like a small village of support. Yet even with all hands on deck, it became clear that the system I had built was no longer serving the team—or the science. Something needed to change before the projects slipped beyond control.

In that moment, the lessons I had gained as a FFAR Fellow became unexpectedly essential. Trainings on mentoring, teamwork and recognizing individual strengths shifted from abstract concepts to practical tools. I began to see the students not just as additional help, but as individuals whose abilities could be aligned with the specific demands of each trial. That shift in perspective marked the beginning of a more intentional, sustainable approach to managing the work.

I am a PhD candidate in the dairy metabolism group at Michigan State University, where my research sits at the intersection of nutritional immunology and physiology in dairy cattle. While I work with animals of all ages, my deepest passion lies with the youngest members of the herd. Calves, much like human infants, rely on passive immunity—receiving their mother’s antibodies through colostrum. Unlike human infants, they enter the world agammaglobulinemic, essentially devoid of circulating immunoglobulins. This biological reality leaves them acutely vulnerable during the neonatal period, a time when the dairy industry continues to face high morbidity and mortality rates.

My research seeks to address these challenges through nutritional strategies that support early‑life immunity and development. Each trial demands daily sampling, meticulous record keeping and coordination across multiple cohorts that often reach peak enrollment simultaneously. Managing this complexity required more than technical skill—it required a team that was reliable, trustworthy and supported by a positive working environment.

At some point in every career, there comes a moment when we overestimate our capabilities while underestimating the investment required to meet our responsibilities. For me, that moment arrived while running these trials. When the calf study first began, I drastically underestimated the level of daily support I would need. I hired only a handful of students—mostly those recommended by colleagues or mentors—and I failed to use interviews to their full potential during onboarding. I also didn’t take the time to identify which students possessed strengths that aligned with specific shifts. Instead, I allowed open sign‑ups, which quickly devolved into a scramble for the most exciting tasks. As you might imagine, this led to gaps in sampling coverage and frustration among the students, who often missed out on the shifts they wanted simply because they didn’t log in fast enough.

By the third month, I was struggling to lead both the project and the undergraduates effectively while still managing my own responsibilities. Thankfully, winter break was approaching, and with it came an opportunity for a hard reset—a chance to rebuild a team that could thrive amid the chaos of two live‑animal trials while still enjoying the work and each other’s company.

As a FFAR Fellow, I participate in several training sessions each semester. One of these included reading Patrick Lencioni’s The Five Dysfunctions of a Team and engaging in facilitated discussions with my cohort about how we function within groups. Although I had done my best when first hiring students, I knew I had not built a strong team. One key lesson from Lencioni’s work is that sometimes a broken team must be dismantled before a stronger, more committed one can be built. With most of my helpers away for the break, I finally had the space to evaluate what core teams were needed to support the calf and cow trials separately. Once those structures were clear, I could reflect on each student’s strengths and determine where they fit best.

Of course, breaking a team often means letting people go—an uncomfortable but sometimes necessary step. I leaned heavily on the crucial‑conversation training we had practiced as Fellows to navigate those discussions with honesty and respect. At the same time, I needed to hire new students, yet I realized I lacked effective interviewing skills. I turned to lab personnel with experience in student hiring and sought advice from other Fellows. Through those conversations, I learned to focus on understanding who the students were, what they expected from the role and how those expectations aligned with my own before extending an offer.

After implementing these changes, I rebuilt a team that was engaged, dependable and invested in producing high‑quality research—even when I was traveling for work. My training as a FFAR Fellow played a central role in this transformation, shaping my professional development and ultimately contributing to the success of both trials. I am deeply grateful to my mentors, labmates, the FFAR Fellows program and its leadership, and the many undergraduate assistants who helped bring this work to life.