While there are numerous, well-documented benefits to a career in STEM, a major deterrent to young adults is its perceived difficulty. According to a survey from the Pew Research Center, the number one reason students are not pursuing STEM is that they believe it is too hard. These results probably come as no surprise, as most people have heard students lamenting that they are “not smart enough” or “not good enough at math” to pursue higher education in a STEM field. Google “how to become a scientist” and the checklist of accomplishments begins with years of education, which in itself seems inconceivable without some self-perceived aptitude.
Children that I’ve worked with, either through my roles as an educator at the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space museum or the New York Hall of Science (NYSci), quickly associated scientists with cold, competent people who did experiments in a lab and cured diseases. That narrow definition disqualified both myself and them as scientists, even when doing activities like translating cryptography, programming robots, and building contraptions of all kinds. Understanding that there are scientists studying different aspects of the world with various end products required a new way to think about the activities they were doing. In hindsight, this mindset is helpful to have with basic science research and I try to remind myself of it regularly.
I often thought I was unqualified to pursue a PhD because I had spent far more time with children, thinking about how they perceive and understand science, than doing science itself–r so I thought. I think we lose sight of the lessons we learn when we’re younger: that a scientist is simply someone that asks a question and goes about trying to solve it in a logical manner through elements of the scientific method. We use problem solving on a daily basis to answer questions big and small. Formerly, I tried to wrap my head around how small human creatures think and how they can be more motivated to do things in the realm of STEM. While I have my sights on microscopic subjects now, it doesn’t detract from my past in education. You don’t need over 1,000 hours of prior lab experience to know you’re cut out for science. There’s still plenty you can bring to the table –– or bench, if you will.
Success comes in different forms.
Failure has a terrible connotation and the fear of it has been instilled in many of us throughout our educational experiences. It is hard for children, especially young ones, to accept that even scientists fail. Even now at the bench, it’s hard to not call an experiment a failure when results do not make sense. There were a handful of principles that we used at NYSci to encourage visitors of all ages that what they were doing was meaningful, even when they felt like they were fumbling. The overarching message of these ideas was that success comes in different forms.
Iteration
When something doesn’t work out, in a classroom or in the lab, it provides the opportunity to start over and work smarter. Making improvements, or iterating, is necessary as things often do not work the first time, whether it be a robot or an assay. The ability to overcome challenges and embrace iteration is believed to demonstrate a scientific disposition. So when children learned to troubleshoot their designs, I deemed it a success. On the other hand, I don’t treat myself with the same gravitas when I repeat experiments. Instead it feels like beating a dead horse and that progress wasn’t being made. Why should troubleshooting at the lab be treated any differently?
Divergent Thinking
The STEM afterschool programs I helped run didn’t come with a manual or even clearly defined steps sometimes. This led to unique creations made in various different manners, like thread spool wheels, leather parachutes, PVC pipe obstacle courses, etc. Inheriting or starting a new research project also requires picking up the ability to creatively problem solve and come up with a multitude of ways to do so, lest you leave your qualifier or thesis committee thinking you are unprepared. Oftentimes, I think we get preoccupied with solely producing work and we don’t give our brains enough credit for the mental gymnastics this field requires at times.
Enthusiasm
I always felt the most successful when I saw children express enthusiasm and pride in their work. It was best when they dragged over a sibling or a parent to show off their latest creation, what it was, and how it worked. Initially, I was excited to be able to one day talk about my own research, but somewhere along the way I began to dread it. My own work didn’t seem impressive to me, but it’s important to share it with others to gain perspective. It’s highly motivating to see others be interested and even invested in your work, and it’s easier to move forward with renewed enthusiasm.
So to those contemplating research or in the midst of their academic journey already, keep your spirits up and the cogs turning. Turn that ugly Western blot into a Rorschach test and you’ll be okay.