These are my explainy hands
Hi flist! So I might have mentioned a little while ago that I was given an assignment to write a short essay about my undergraduate research experience and how it contributed to my education. The possible use of this essay is vague; admission materials were mentioned. Anyway, I just sat down and banged it out tonight, because that's how I write, at least for shortish things - I start and then I finish, with little break in between, or else I feel incomplete. Anyway, I was wondering if maybe you, my beautiful flist, with your lovely ways with words, would be willing to take a look at it for me? It is quite short, under 1000 words, and I wrote it very informally, like a story. I'd appreciate input on tone, flow, grammar, anything you feel might be improved. Even if you have no concrit, I'd love reactions of any kind, as I am kind of nervous about sending this out into the world!
Thanks in advance, loves <3
A Mile in Shoes That Don't Fit by Anne
I entered college with the comfort of a definite purpose. I knew that I was going to be a chemistry major (possibly biochemistry - the details would sort themselves out with time) and that I would take my BA on to earn a Ph.D. in chemistry of some nebulous sort, then take that degree and go on into the world to do… chemistry. I was more than a little fuzzy on the details, but people seemed so impressed that I had a direction chosen for myself. “Wow!” they would say, “I don’t even know what classes I want to take! You’re so lucky.” The fact that my chosen direction was chemistry, an area that seems frightening to many, and a reassuring guarantee of employment to others, only served to cement the approval.
This constant positive reinforcement of my future plans caused them to solidify in my mind as the right path to follow. General chemistry was a breeze - if I enjoyed my class on Experimental Fiction more, well, writing or reading funky novels wouldn’t lead directly to a lucrative career, would it? My subsequent success in and enjoyment of my organic chemistry class seemed like a sure sign that chemistry was right for me. How many people can say they loved orgo? As a sophomore, graduate school still seemed like a fuzzy, distant prospect whose details would resolve themselves naturally, but it was still certainly my goal.
Let’s take a step back. After my freshman year, I had done a summer of research in the Toxicology department at Michigan State University. This veered left of my chemistry leanings, falling more into a biological arena, but I found the experience to be interesting, challenging, and rewarding. I was given the chance to exercise a skill set that thus far had not been tested; I had to focus on one problem for an extended period of time and learn its intricacies, addressing them with more independence than I was accustomed to. It gave me my first taste of what actual research is like, and despite the steep learning curve that caused me to stumble now and then, we garnered some intriguing results, which gave me a real sense of accomplishment.
Following my sophomore year, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to continue working in a lab, this time through a Hackman under Dr. Fenlon in the Chemistry department here at F&M. My part in the project was purely organic chemistry, involving extensive synthetic work. Over the course of the summer, and the summer that followed, I garnered experience of the many practical challenges and frustrations that face the synthetic chemist. I learned that failure is common, and “try, try again” is essentially the mantra by which we live. Repeated duds made the successes that much more rewarding; I truly felt that I developed and improved my abilities through hands-on trial and error. This type of experience cannot be duplicated or passed on by classroom teaching or textbooks. Even lab work in the course of regular classes utterly fails to convey the realities of prolonged research. Thus, this experience that I was offered as an undergraduate provided an invaluable, enlightening understanding of the truth of just what it was that I had signed up for.
The result was that the haze over my future began to clear. I began to understand exactly what the implications would be of getting a Ph.D. in chemistry and proceeding to a career in research. In the course of my own maturation, nudged along by a year abroad at Trinity College Dublin and experiences in their chemistry and biochemistry programs, I began to realize a truth about myself. I am fascinated by the concepts of science, by the incredible truths we have divined about our world, our universe, and even more so by the still untold depths of our ignorance, the questions yet unanswered. But the practical application of these grand ideas is less inspiring to me, in a very fundamental way. I get impatient when confined to a specific puzzle for too long; I yearn to zip off into another area of science, to find more puzzles and poke at them for a while before moving on to the next. This restless curiosity does not seem to be satiated by the realities of research. This realization came to me gradually, and while I resisted the implications for a long time, I finally had to be honest with myself and admit the truth: I do not want to become a research scientist.
A conversation with a friend prompted me to explore concrete alternatives that would perhaps inspire genuine passion in me. I discovered a path that truly excites me: science writing, a vast and varied arena that ranges from science journalism to planning museum exhibits to producing public relations materials for hospitals. I am now looking forward to the future with informed excitement and anticipation.
This process of self-discovery would not have been possible without the unbelievable experience I was privileged enough to have during my undergraduate career. It opened my eyes and instructed me in the realities of functioning in a research environment, and allowed me to assess my own suitability to its particular tenor. It was also an invaluable learning process in its own right; I have acquired problem-solving skills and a type of patience and perseverance that will serve me well regardless of what path I choose to take. I can now step out into the world with confidence, taking joy in my particular place in it and exercising my abilities to their maximum potential.
Thanks in advance, loves <3
A Mile in Shoes That Don't Fit by Anne
I entered college with the comfort of a definite purpose. I knew that I was going to be a chemistry major (possibly biochemistry - the details would sort themselves out with time) and that I would take my BA on to earn a Ph.D. in chemistry of some nebulous sort, then take that degree and go on into the world to do… chemistry. I was more than a little fuzzy on the details, but people seemed so impressed that I had a direction chosen for myself. “Wow!” they would say, “I don’t even know what classes I want to take! You’re so lucky.” The fact that my chosen direction was chemistry, an area that seems frightening to many, and a reassuring guarantee of employment to others, only served to cement the approval.
This constant positive reinforcement of my future plans caused them to solidify in my mind as the right path to follow. General chemistry was a breeze - if I enjoyed my class on Experimental Fiction more, well, writing or reading funky novels wouldn’t lead directly to a lucrative career, would it? My subsequent success in and enjoyment of my organic chemistry class seemed like a sure sign that chemistry was right for me. How many people can say they loved orgo? As a sophomore, graduate school still seemed like a fuzzy, distant prospect whose details would resolve themselves naturally, but it was still certainly my goal.
Let’s take a step back. After my freshman year, I had done a summer of research in the Toxicology department at Michigan State University. This veered left of my chemistry leanings, falling more into a biological arena, but I found the experience to be interesting, challenging, and rewarding. I was given the chance to exercise a skill set that thus far had not been tested; I had to focus on one problem for an extended period of time and learn its intricacies, addressing them with more independence than I was accustomed to. It gave me my first taste of what actual research is like, and despite the steep learning curve that caused me to stumble now and then, we garnered some intriguing results, which gave me a real sense of accomplishment.
Following my sophomore year, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to continue working in a lab, this time through a Hackman under Dr. Fenlon in the Chemistry department here at F&M. My part in the project was purely organic chemistry, involving extensive synthetic work. Over the course of the summer, and the summer that followed, I garnered experience of the many practical challenges and frustrations that face the synthetic chemist. I learned that failure is common, and “try, try again” is essentially the mantra by which we live. Repeated duds made the successes that much more rewarding; I truly felt that I developed and improved my abilities through hands-on trial and error. This type of experience cannot be duplicated or passed on by classroom teaching or textbooks. Even lab work in the course of regular classes utterly fails to convey the realities of prolonged research. Thus, this experience that I was offered as an undergraduate provided an invaluable, enlightening understanding of the truth of just what it was that I had signed up for.
The result was that the haze over my future began to clear. I began to understand exactly what the implications would be of getting a Ph.D. in chemistry and proceeding to a career in research. In the course of my own maturation, nudged along by a year abroad at Trinity College Dublin and experiences in their chemistry and biochemistry programs, I began to realize a truth about myself. I am fascinated by the concepts of science, by the incredible truths we have divined about our world, our universe, and even more so by the still untold depths of our ignorance, the questions yet unanswered. But the practical application of these grand ideas is less inspiring to me, in a very fundamental way. I get impatient when confined to a specific puzzle for too long; I yearn to zip off into another area of science, to find more puzzles and poke at them for a while before moving on to the next. This restless curiosity does not seem to be satiated by the realities of research. This realization came to me gradually, and while I resisted the implications for a long time, I finally had to be honest with myself and admit the truth: I do not want to become a research scientist.
A conversation with a friend prompted me to explore concrete alternatives that would perhaps inspire genuine passion in me. I discovered a path that truly excites me: science writing, a vast and varied arena that ranges from science journalism to planning museum exhibits to producing public relations materials for hospitals. I am now looking forward to the future with informed excitement and anticipation.
This process of self-discovery would not have been possible without the unbelievable experience I was privileged enough to have during my undergraduate career. It opened my eyes and instructed me in the realities of functioning in a research environment, and allowed me to assess my own suitability to its particular tenor. It was also an invaluable learning process in its own right; I have acquired problem-solving skills and a type of patience and perseverance that will serve me well regardless of what path I choose to take. I can now step out into the world with confidence, taking joy in my particular place in it and exercising my abilities to their maximum potential.