Trustee Reading Room, a place go when they’ve decided they have to start working – Courtesy of the Office of Communications
Historically, I have been what one might label as a habitual procrastinator. Readings and problem sets get put off until there often quite literally is not a last minute left to spare. It’s a stress-inducing habit, but one way or the other, the work always gets done. It’s like a just-on-time economy, where everything arrives but nothing is ever early. Procrastination like this can feel like it doesn’t come with real consequences. As a result, in the lead up to every project, I find myself sitting around doing anything but getting started. It can feel like waiting for some kind of invitation to begin the work. If you’re reading this and aren’t just sympathizing, but instead thinking about something you’re actively not doing, you’re in luck. This is your personal invitation to get started.
Collared Aracari sitting in a treePhoto Credit: Maya Cabrera
What is the point of studying abroad? Why would you want to leave the Princeton bubble? For me at least, studying abroad in Panamá through the Ecology and Evolutionary Biology (EEB) department was definitely my saving grace. I needed a break from the cold New Jersey winters and from the structured academic life here. So I guess, why should someone who wants to go into research study abroad? What if there aren’t any opportunities to do research abroad? Well, that just depends on the program you do! I was lucky that the EEB department offered a semester-long field research-based course (OIP link), but there are also other study abroad field-based programs out there, like the School for Field Studies! So, if you still aren’t sure if studying abroad is right for you, let me try and convince you further!
The first (and most obvious reason) I would suggest for someone to do field research abroad is that you can experience a different biome. Before I studied abroad, the only field work I had done was in temperate systems, so I had no experience in other fields. The Panamá field semester was in a tropical ecosystem, so I got to see and experience a wide variety of organisms and interactions I wouldn’t have otherwise seen. It is widely known that ecosystems near the equator experience a higher diversity of organisms, but learning about this in class didn’t really sink in as much as when we were actually there. Every day when I walked to class, I would always make sure to bring my camera, as there was always some animal hanging around the path. And staying in that area for an extended period of time allowed me to see and experience much more than if I only visited for a week or two. It’s always good to try new things, and as a field researcher, I would argue that the more experience, the better you are at discovering what you like/don’t like.
Fieldwork in the Intertidal. Photo Credit: Marshall Mumford.
It’s okay to fail. No, really, it is. You may feel that the achievements that brought you here have put you on a pedestal, destined to keep rising higher and higher, but someday that pedestal will break or crumble, and you must figure out how to keep going.
This is true especially in research. Having been involved in scientific research from the early days of doing science fair, to analyzing my data for my senior thesis, I feel like I have rather good authority to speak on failure. These are my four tips for coping with failure as you embark on your research journey.
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.
