One of the most valuable pieces of advice I've received during graduate school is to just get started. It doesn't matter what medium you use (drawing sketches on a whiteboard, filling up a page with nonsense words, roping a colleague into a brainstorming session, etc.). All that matters is coaxing that first draft of an idea out into the open, where you can see it clearly and shape it into something useful. In honor of my first blog post, I've decided to get the ball rolling by writing briefly about a topic I know well - myself. In particular, I'd like to share how I got my start in academia and the steps I've been taking to carve out a career for myself in the sciences. Looking back, I can see that my path towards research in ecology was a fairly traditional one. As a kid, I was fascinated with the environment and always knew that I wanted a job where I could work outside. I also fit the stereotype of being a bookworm, who enjoyed learning and sharing what I'd learned with others. Later on in college, I found opportunities in ecology labs that allowed me to do field work, sharpen my research skills, and figure out what kind of science I was interested in. After finishing undergrad I spent a gap-semester working at a garden center, then finally it was on to graduate school in Pittsburgh. The funny thing is: during this time in my life, the direction I was heading-in felt anything but certain. There was a really loud voice in my head that told me not to focus too seriously on research because only brilliant and talented people (ie not me) were allowed to pursue PhDs and become scientists. I considered myself to be outgoing and curious, but rarely stood out as above-average during college. Other students read three scientific papers for every one that I got through. Though quick to ask questions, I was slow to answer them. It felt like standing at the bottom of a mountain with a pair of rental skis, watching other people shoot down the black diamond runs while I was stuck teetering across the bunny slopes (I know because I also experienced this last winter... and learned never to pursue a career in professional skiing). The gap between the beginner and expert skill-levels feels immense- especially when believing, like I did, that you're expected to jump it by yourself. I consider myself lucky to have made it past that place. Despite having intense feelings of doubt that I can now recognize as imposter syndrome, I continued to find jobs and internships that interested me. Eventually, I built relationships with mentors who I could open up to and gained access to a support system I didn't know existed. Through mentorship I also gained "models" of scientists, whose stories I could learn from and emulate. I figured out that, although talent and intellect matters at a baseline level, what really sets great scientists apart is their enthusiasm and grit. This was a profound discovery, because grit and enthusiasm are characteristics that I have the ability to control. A scientist, by extension, began to feel like a role I could choose to take on, rather than something that was bestowed upon me by a celestial combination of genetic and environmental factors. Since learning this lesson and starting graduate school, the imposter syndrome still creeps in occasionally. Today, however, I combat the voices telling me what I can't accomplish by refocusing my efforts on things that I can, in baby steps. I finish analyzing a dataset, I submit grant proposals, I go to outreach events, and the like. After spending enough time emulating the actions of a scientist, I started to feel like I've become one. I'd like to conclude with some unsolicited advice to undergrads, who may be considering a career in the sciences: 1) Start doing something and let the momentum push you forward. Send an email to that professor you admire and ask to sit in a lab meeting. Apply to internships, volunteer at nonprofit organizations... do anything that feels genuine. Opportunities rarely present themselves on a silver platter, but you do get better exposure to opportunities by gaining work experience and building a network. 2) There are infinite ways to get to the same destination. Although my personal journey to graduate school ended up being fairly linear (by transitioning directly from undergrad to grad school), that was just one path that worked for me. Extremely successful students have previously worked in industry and for nonprofits, started families, and anything else they felt like doing. Wherever you're at now: that is a good place to start. Instructions for how to ski (author unknown): Turn left, turn right, repeat as necessary Comments are closed.
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AuthorHello! My name is Rachel and I am a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. All opinions expressed in this blog are my own. Archives
April 2024
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