Great story. High school freshman, Jack Andraka, develops a paper sensor for detection of blood proteins signaling some early stage cancers. Certain proteins get over-expressed in the blood for different cancers at early stages. Tests categorized as ELISA (enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay) are part protocol for early cancer diagnostics. Jack’s discovery—now with the patent lawyers and Johns Hopkins—seems factors more efficient and accurate than ELISAs, the first of which was invented over 40 years ago. For perspective, here’s how ELISA was celebrated only in 2006.
I note:
- Jack attends a public high school.
- Like the rest of us he was also “home-schooled”, i.e, he learned stuff at home.
- Jack did research outside the advantages, constraints, accoutrements and professional politics of a conventional research grant-based environment.
- Jack had supportive parents and teachers.
- He had fun.
- Jack seems personable, well-mannered, cordially and easily conversant with a balance of complexity and simplicity, and people seem to want to work with him. (TRANSLATION: Jack’s emotional IQ doesn’t appear inversely proportional to his conventional IQ.)
- Jack focused on a little part of a really big something.
- Jack is 15.
Much cancer work is on treatment. In conventional medicine—whose professional impulses in the grimmest cast mimic complacency if not a more honorable abject surrender—cancer is a given. Oncology’s whole start. And in truth there are problems about which we know little to do and cancer’s surely among them. Viruses too. They stump us for similar reasons and it’s no coincidence we’ve cured neither.
But this freshman is focusing on a small part of the story—proteomics and detection— upstream. Less of treatment and more of time. Because everything is a rate. And he’s valuing the simple proposition of earlier diagnostics—plus better ones—as, yes, a prelude to earlier treatment.
Thinking about big problems can be daunting. Cancer is big. But the ability to focus on a little important piece is key. It’s all science is. But research tradition—even in the fine exploratory arena of a progressive Johns Hopkins lab—can sometimes obscure how legitimate little pieces look. Some fruit, I fear, hangeth too low for view by the fanciest eyes.
A Yale management professor said it takes 10 years of doing something to become an expert—there are studies. Yes. It takes volume. And volume takes time. But that’s not the story, increasingly. First, whole industries now rise and die in 10 years. You won’t get that window to “master” in. Secondly, you’re due to know something after 10 years, but a remaining question is whether it’s optimum. Lastly, even if you get to master something, your frequency of innovation over the course—e.g., Jack-style—is something else. And that’s business’ whole deal.
Quite opposite dismissing children because of youth or no volume, I particularly attend. I follow them on twitter. In science great questions and discovery, as Jack teaches, not only can come early before you’re a conventional expert and often seem to come in part because you’re not, but increasingly in a competitive world, they must.
That’s likely dramatic, but he is being cast in a reportedly more “shadowy” light in a brand extension and
Hip-Hop mogul Jay-Z’s book
I’m a long-time down-size critic. When a firm downsizes, I always ask, what’s the real problem they aren’t solving. It’s a tactic, not a management strategy. Done regularly when management lacks ideas. And then what: you’re smaller–so are your competitors– and you still lack ideas.
Recent Comments