Beautiful summer view at Princeton. Photo Credit: Denise Applewhite.
For those planning to spend their summer researching whether it’s your first foray or your senior thesis, there are a few things that I have taken into consideration this year with my own planning that I think will be useful for others.
Thinking in Cannon Green (probably about a JP!). Photo Credit: Matt Raspanti.
It’s that time of year: I am writing a Junior Proposal as a molecular biology major. There are a few things I found about this experience that have humbled me very deeply. I obviously did not expect a cakewalk. I think it’s a good time for me to let juniors know; it’s not necessarily a difficult experience, but it’s strangely timed. The deadlines (at least for my major) are right in the middle of a somewhat hectic time between exams and the long stretch of spring semester post-spring break. Many of my peers (including myself) have been doing experiments for a while now, and working on the paper feels like coming up for air from a very deep lair at the bottom of the ocean. It can be very disorienting. The issue is that it requires a different way of thinking than when you’re in the midst of experimentation.
Sarcophagus depicting king Priam imploring Achilles for the return of the body of his son, Tyre, 2nd cent AD. Photo Credit: National Museum of Beirut.
I am a Classics major on the pre-medical track, which means I spend roughly equal parts of my intellectual life in ancient texts and clinical/STEM spaces. Most people, when I tell them this, assume I’m describing a contradiction – humanities on one side, medicine on the other, and me shuttling awkwardly between them. How can my work with Ancient Greek and Latin texts possibly inform my time with patients who live in a modern world and are treated with modern medicine? How can all the time I’ve spent thinking about literature, philosophy, and art from different time periods be relevant to my day-to-day life, or my future career as a physician?
Le Penseur (The Thinker) Statue, by Auguste Rodin (1904)
As I wrapped up the first of my two independent junior research papers and began brainstorming for the second (and much larger) one, I hit a familiar wall: too much possibility, with no clear direction.
This next paper is supposed to be around 30 pages. The topic is broad. My notes are abundant and scattered. Every passage and source I consider seems to open a new direction I could take. In theory, this is a researcher’s dream – I have abundant evidence, rich material, and intellectual freedom. In practice though, it can feel paralyzing. What is even relevant? How do I start this? What am I actually trying to say?
My high school English teacher gave me the most useful writing advice I’ve ever heard: “With focus comes depth, and with depth comes complexity.”
A student working in Firestone Library. Photo credit: Denise Applewhite, Princeton Department of Communications
If someone asked me to describe my experiences with research in a word, I’d probably end up at a loss. My research experiences have been exciting, tiring, and fulfilling all at once. Research is endlessly multifaceted, with each experience being unique. Still, a few constants remain, and deadlines are certainly one of them. No matter the methods, no matter the discipline, every project eventually comes to an end. As that moment creeps closer, it often feels more and more inconveniently insurmountable.
Despite this, deadlines are important. They not only help with the goal-setting process, but also force us to abandon the appeal of endless revisions in the pursuit of perfection. Deadlines ensure that, at some point, there will be a final product. Meeting those deadlines, however, is a different story and one that can present real challenges.
One of the greatest benefits of being a Princeton student is the unparalleled access to international opportunities. Whether it’s traveling for classes and clubs, completing an IIP (International Internship Program), doing fieldwork through HMEI (High Meadows Environmental Institute), taking a Global Seminar course through PIIRS (Princeton Institute for International and Regional Studies), or participating in Princeton’s many language programs abroad, many students find ways to leave the Orange Bubble—literally. To become better-informed global citizens, it is important not only to study the world from Princeton, but also to spend time in the world beyond Princeton.
One powerful way to do this is by conducting research abroad. When I was a junior preparing for my senior thesis, I knew I wanted to incorporate an international dimension into my work and, if possible, travel over winter break of senior year. Although I had been fortunate to travel domestically through Princeton, I hadn’t yet taken advantage of any study or research opportunities abroad. Winter break of senior year is one of the last, and most popular, chances to do so. Princeton has a wide range of thesis funding sources, which makes it very possible to take your research to an international site.
With my junior year well underway, I’ve started to do some thinking about everything that comes after you leave the “orange bubble”. As someone whose Princeton experience has been shaped by diverging interests, it’s exciting to imagine applying the unique skillsets I’m gaining to new contexts. Still, whether it’s internships, fellowships, or research projects, nearly every opportunity is guarded by an application process of some kind. While some applications can be relatively simple, many are decidedly complex. Of the many interlocking parts that make up any application process, letters of recommendation represent some of the most critical cogs in the machine. What makes letters of recommendation so important is that they can provide a new perspective on you as an applicant, affirm aspects of your application you’ve already shared, and more fully characterize you as a person. Still, asking for letters of recommendation can create uncertainty.
“Welcome to SWE23” sign at the Annual Society of Women Engineers National Conference
When I attended my first conference, I was overwhelmed by the number of events—from keynote speakers and lightning talks, to career fairs and research presentations. Over time, through attending several conferences, I learned how to navigate these spaces strategically and make the most of the few days I had at each one. Conferences are an opportunity to connect your academic interests to real-world communities and open doors for future opportunities. From resume databases to poster sessions, conferences can open doors to new research and career opportunities.
Roman copy of a Greek bronze bust of Aristotle by Lysippos (c. 330 BC).
Aristotle’s Metaphysics begin with an oft-quoted adage: πάντες ἄνθρωποι τοῦ εἰδέναι ὀρέγονται φύσει (Aristotle, Metaphysics A.1 980a). “All humans, by their nature, strive to understand.”
With some spare time over fall break, I decided to brush up on my Greek philosophy. My upcoming junior independent work will focus on Lucretius’ philosophical poem De Rerum Natura, and he engages with so many ideas from ancient Greek thinkers – Epicurus, Democritus, Plato, and Aristotle, to name a few – I thought it prudent to be familiar with them. Given that the very purpose of their works is to explain their ideas, I didn’t expect to run into serious trouble as I began reading them. Instead, as I started making my way through Aristotle’s Metaphysics and Plato’s Timaeus, I found myself entangled with ideas of identity, causation, and substance. My overwhelming reaction was… “wait, what?”
A classroom of students reading at Princeton (not core lab). Photo credit: Ryan Halbe.
Many STEM majors here have the same rite of passage: core lab. For non-lab majors, core lab is a class that is purely to teach you about lab techniques and critical thinking skills that are useful for writing our theses. They usually involve a bit of a simulated lab experience where you discover new findings while the teachers guide you through the motions of a lab research experience.
Molecular biology’s core lab meets twice a week for 3 hours and then a small 50 minute lecture/precept on Fridays for half the semester. Other majors have similar constraints. However, while at first it may seem a bit overwhelming and even redundant if you’ve already done these procedures in a lab or are in a lab that definitely will not be using any procedures you learn, core lab goes beyond just teaching you technical skills.
I too was confused as to why I was here and why this mattered, but over time, I began to internalize one of the real skills this class is meant to teach you, something that pipetting will never give you: asking the right questions.