I first dipped my toes into the sterile, infinitely deep waters of biomedical research a little less than a year ago. Since then I’ve either been drifting easily into a hematoxylin-colored sunset or drowning in data and deadlines, crying out for Wilson and cursing the gods of ImageJ. And I’ve loved every second of it. I wouldn’t call myself seasoned, or even experienced, but I like to think I know what to expect out of a summer of research, and I couldn’t be more excited.
Given that I’m starting in an entirely new lab, I expect to look into the kindly eyes of my P.I., Dr. Ann Marie Pendergast, and pretend to know what she’s talking about, expertly timing my nods of understanding while compiling a mental list of things to Google later. I’ve already gone down the Wikipedia rabbit hole so far that I expect to eventually find the origin of the internet itself.
This is an immersion experience just like any trip abroad, and so I expect to learn the language and the culture of the natives. If I’m ever going to be able to nod and say “Uh-huh, yes, very interesting,” and actually mean it, I’m going to have to read A LOT, and I already have. Just like when I was first learning Spanish, I’ve been using the very few words I do know in order to figure out the very many that I don’t. I’m pretty sure, though, that my articulation of Spanish is better than that of biochemistry; it’s not a Romance language, but one of acronyms with counterintuitive pronunciations.
I expect to learn plenty of new technical skills, from tissue culture to statistical analysis, and to (hopefully) acquire the venerable level of patience required to carry them out.
On that note, I expect to get frustrated. I expect some experiments to outright fail, or (even worse) to tell me nothing at all. I expect other experiments to shed some, if dim light on the mechanisms of the devious triple-negative breast cancer cells that are currently shrouded in mystery. I expect all experiments to teach me something, even if it’s what I did wrong.
It might surprise some to learn that every scientist I’ve met is more than socially competent, and I expect to form meaningful friendships with each of them. Through my time with them I expect to gain a more comprehensive understanding of what it means to be a professional scientist. I expect that this will aid in the making of my decisions about the future. Sure, I’ve been doing research for a year, but I’ve also only been doing it for 10 hours a week. If I can do it for 10 or so hours a day for 8 weeks and still be as enamored with it as I am now, then maybe I’ll be able to do it for the rest of my life.
Research, in essence, is the production of knowledge. I don’t expect to win the Nobel Prize, but I do expect to generate some new knowledge, be it a breakthrough, a fun fact, or a great new way how not to cure cancer. I expect to make a contribution, however small, to a project which as a whole is sure to evolve into something great.
