Student profile
Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.
My eyes followed the citrus-orange streetcars running down the palm-lined waterfront. As I passed by the [Monument] on my way to the March for Science in [city], I pondered the scene. It was immaculate, like a postcard. But it hadn't always been like this.
The decades rewound in my mental projector . . . it was 1959. I visualized the overpass being constructed, a concrete Goliath. Two decks of elevated roads now loomed over me; I couldn't catch a trace of the bay anymore.
(citizens) demanded it be torn down immediately, but their protests were of no avail. The overpass seemed invincible - for now.
My mind skipped thirty years - 1989. Rumble. The earthquake struck. Crack. The overpass collapsed.
I have always had a habit of daydreaming, and the story of the overpass had captivated me long before the March for Science. Now, here I was at the same spot as the freeway protests of 1959, fighting for the conclusions of science to be recognized: that climate change is real and vaccines save lives. I felt more hopeful that, just as the earthquake demolished the "invincible" overpass, data and hard facts would eventually topple the widespread misconceptions about science. I wouldn't be marching in vain.
The same week, I was selected for COSMOS, a summer course about biomedical research at UC Irvine. My optimism from the March for Science took a personal turn: one day, I would tear down an old way of treating disease and replace it with a revolutionary new perspective. It would be my own earthquake in the scientific world.
To introduce us to study design, (Dr. X), the instructor at COSMOS, assigned our groups to read and present about a published trial of the HPV vaccine. I carefully followed the "Steps to Read a Research Paper" that he gave us. I Googled all the statistical terms and even looked at the supplements. Going into my presentation, I was confident that I hadn't missed anything.
I proceeded through my presentation: "For the final analysis, the researchers excluded patients whose tests already showed signs of immunity to HPV before they got the vaccine."
"Hold on," (Dr. X) interrupted. "If they hadn't been vaccinated, how would they be immune to the virus?"
"They must've already had HPV, I suppose."
"In that case, did the researchers inform those participants that they had HPV?"
Rumble. Crack. With just a couple of questions, (Dr. X) had torn down my analysis. Only, this "earthquake" didn't take down an imposing overpass. Instead, the enemy was more elusive: a blind spot in my own thought process. I had totally glossed over the scientists' ethical duty to protect the patients' health.
As my team and I designed a mock clinical trial for the final project, I recalled how (Dr. X) was always ready to challenge our lines of reasoning. Now, I tried to be my own critic and weed out every potential discrepancy from our study. It wasn't as easy as (Dr. X) made it seem, but after all, I was just beginning to lay the foundation for the mindset of a researcher: one not just of peer-review, but of painstaking self-evaluation.
As a daydreamer, I've always been fascinated by the spectacle of scientific innovations. When I went to the March for Science, I'd imagined taking down undefeatable beliefs, the same way the earthquake had taken down the overpass. However, at COSMOS, I was reminded to confront my own hidden bias. I have found that, both in my academic journey and my everyday life, the "earthquakes" that shake my own preconceptions are just as profound as those that rock the world.