![]() |
| Don’t be this Rob Lowe. |
Category: advice for students
Part 3 – And Now for Something Completely Different
How We Came to be Here – A Story in Three Parts This week STS will be sharing stories of coming to careers in STEM fields. We hope we can offer three different perspectives on finding your career path, navigating higher education, and deciding how and when your journey needs to change. We’d love to hear any and all of your stories about finding your calling or your struggles/victories if you’re still trying to figure it out right now. Please share! It’s important for all of us (especially those in high school and undergrad) to know that there is no single, best way to approach this crazy adventure. For Part 1, which is Rachel’s story, click here. For Part 2, which is Chelsea’s story, click here.

I have some impressive posts to follow! I am very lucky to have two wildly inspirational best friends that are both doing such amazing things with their lives. I suppose it’s time for my story. Unlike Rachel and Chelsea, after graduating from WKU in 2009 I took an academic year off to reconsider my options for moving forward. I’d had lots of wonderful experiences during my undergraduate years thanks to my mentor, Dr. Albert Meier. At that point I had done research, internships, studying abroad, an honors thesis, but even with all of this involvement, I still was terribly intimidated by the prospect of graduate school. Albert often reassured me that I could go straight into a PhD program, but to me that seemed like rushing the process. During the time I was working on applications to different programs I was living at home and working at a Red Robin to save money. A lot of my friends had already been accepted and moved onto graduate programs while I still had a giant pile of uncertainty in my future. This was a pretty bleak time for me.
For a while it seemed like every potential path was quickly met with disappointment. I thought I had a position lined up as a research assistant in Costa Rica for a short time, but I believe that graduate student ended up employing a friend instead. A professor that I had been talking to at UC Santa Barbara (close to where Rachel was at the time!), but again disappointment arrived as he informed me he was departing for a different university. It was getting late in the grad school search season and I was scouring the Ecolog listserv and Texas A&M Wildlife Job Board for any PhD or MS listing that was even remotely interesting at this point. Thankfully, I came across a listing for a fully funded MS level grad program focused on algal research at a Fish and Wildlife department in New Mexico. Now the cogs were really falling into place.

Within 11 days I went from inquiring about the posting, to interviewing, to applying to NMSU, to acceptance. All of a sudden I had a plan and only a few months before moving across the country to start working on research that summer. Sure, it was intimidating going from spending most of my time in bed watching Netflix to leading a team of undergrads in designing and conducting experiments, but it sure was just what I needed to jump start my enthusiasm and motivation! I cannot say enough good things about my academic experience during my Master’s. I had a supportive advisor who taught me to be more confident and self reliant as a researcher. I found time to travel and attend conferences. I started taking more and more applied statistics courses which opened my eyes how useful such knowledge was to scientists. By the time I finished 2 ½ years later, I was emerging a much more self-assured, competent scientist.
My research and coursework left me with lots of new questions and motivation, and I was sure of wanting to return for a PhD. However, I once more went the route of gap year, this time with a much clearer vision of how to proceed. While my time in New Mexico was academically fulfilling, I was left a bit drained on a more personal and emotional level. I knew I needed to devote time to myself away from school and thanks to very supportive parents and the low cost of living in Las Cruces, I was able to travel for three months through Europe on my own during the summer of 2013. Even now I’m surprised at the extent that this trip has left such a lasting impression on me. I believe that the double dose of academic and interpersonal confidence was crucial for my next steps towards finding a PhD program.

While searching for programs I was eager to incorporate my newfound interest in statistics with my established background in biology/ecology. I sent applications to Biostatistics, Biomathematics, Ecology, and Statistics programs, unsure of exactly what path I wanted to take, or even what was available. I even applied to a program at UC Davis which had the added appeal of Rachel’s lovely presence! Penn State piqued my interest when I stumbled across this site for a Center for Statistical Ecology and Environmental Statistics. Oddly enough, this center no longer exists, but I had already applied and been accepted when I found out! I was reluctant initially to accept a position in a purely statistical department, but talking to the graduate advisors, current students, and several professors during my recruitment visit that reassured me that I would have ample opportunity to incorporate an interdisciplinary approach. This was exactly what I needed to solidify my decision. Now I’m in my second semester as a statistics grad student with no regrets about my switch in fields.
I hope everyone has enjoyed our series on our respective paths to where we are now. Navigating life, school, and careers can be rough and we want you to know that lots of people struggle with finding a path. If you would like to share your own experiences, or even guest post for us, let us know! Until next time, check out these pictures of my besties and me at Mount St Helen’s.
Part 2: Money isn’t Everything – or – Breaking up with Science
How We Came to be Here – A Story in Three Parts
This week STS will be sharing stories of coming to careers in STEM fields. We hope we can offer three different perspectives on finding your career path, navigating higher education, and deciding how and when your journey needs to change. We’d love to hear any and all of your stories about finding your calling or your struggles/victories if you’re still trying to figure it out right now. Please share! It’s important for all of us (especially those in high school and undergrad) to know that there is no single, best way to approach this crazy adventure. For Part 1, which is Rachel’s story, click here.
My name is Chelsea. I have known Meridith since I moved to Kentucky in 1996. That was 19 year ago! Before anything else, I would like to use this guest post as a forum to show some funny pictures of us together, and then I will talk about science.

Glad I got that out of the way. Next, I want to share my story of taking a break from my relationship with science to find what matters to me. I am writing this for those who might be feeling burnt out or unsure about their path. In all stages of life these are completely normal feelings.
I am an American living in Japan where I work as an assistant language teacher (ALT) for the Japanese Exchange & Teaching (JET) program. In Japan I teach English to freshman high school students. But it was not always this way; I used to be a geologist.
In 2009 I graduated with my BS in geology from Western Kentucky University (Editor’s Note: For those keeping track at home, this is another proud WKY alumna).That year I moved to Albuquerque, NM where I began my M.S. in geochemistry at the University of New Mexico. I hit the ground running in graduate school with a M.S. research project that was big and sexy and would bring a major elaboration on something that very few groups had managed to achieve (foreshadowing). My proposal involved locating nano-scale grains of stardust from ancient, long-dead stars locked away in meteorites on Earth.
Sadly, my original M.S. project was a big sexy dud. I spent almost a year and a half failing at isolating stardust grains and generally not knowing what to do about it. The failures were not my fault, but I internalized and agonized over every one of them. At the time, I didn’t realize how common failed projects are, and that science wouldn’t quite work without the failures! However, it felt like every day I trudged wearily into the dark lab, put in my time, and got nothing in return. I was at a motivation low and the stars were just not with me (quite literally, it seems). Finally I had the conversation with my adviser that it was time to cut our losses.
We salvaged the materials that we could and spun the thesis on a different axis and I still managed to scrape together a M.S.-worthy project from the dust (not stardust) of the original project. I graduated from a two-year M.S. program in three years’ time (Editor’s Note: To all you other overachievers, 3 years on a M.S. isn’t really super uncommon. That’s how long it took me (Rachel)).
In 2012, with a freshly conferred M.S. degree and little regard for what actually made me tick, I began slinging resumes into the black hole of internet job posts. I aimed for anything labeled “junior geologist” or “geologist I”. Through fluke and recommendation, I landed a job with a uranium mining company in Albuquerque as a staff geologist, even though I had never before considered mining as a career. After my first month, I discovered that my opportunities for projects and professional growth in that company were limited. Disappointingly, I garnered from tacit clues that the short ceiling was due to my gender. In fact, once an aging male superior spent 20 minutes imploring me to bring proper footwear into the field, as if I were going to go clip-clopping around abandoned mine sites while wearing stilettos because I was young and female… I only lasted 9 months before I found another job.

My next job, still in mining, brought me to work for one of the world’s largest gold producers. Impatient for the next step in the progression of things I felt I was supposed to be doing, I signed on. Suddenly I was 2000 feet underground every day, in a stifling
hot, bustling mine. I was bursting at the seams with an eagerness to excel in this role, taking on extra duties and project whenever possible. But this job, too, was disproportionately dominated by males. My knowledge and recommendations were frequently challenged, for perceivably no other reason than it was difficult to gain acceptance as a woman operating in a scientific capacity. I could never prove myself, as I was always asked to jump arbitrary hurdles that my male counterparts were never expected to clear.
I lasted two years in mining job number two.
I liked being a scientist, but I’ve got to say it can be difficult lasting in the field as a woman. I was doing everything that I was supposed to do; I was in a good job with good benefits. Yet my happiness and direction in life were very low.
Like the end of a bad relationship, I felt something changing inside of me. In the past, I had a clear vision of how science could be my vehicle for learning and change, but I no longer knew why I was doing what I was doing. I needed out, and, as this is a real break-up story and not a romcom, I had to save myself. I took out a piece of paper and wrote down the things that made me happy. This may sound childish, but it can be difficult to remember every day why you are doing what you are doing.
The biggest member of my happiness brainstorm was science; I have always loved concrete explanations of the natural world. Next was teaching. In graduate school I taught an intro geology lab that I adored. I later taught at the local aquarium as a docent. I loved the electrifying energy I felt when standing in front of a group of elementary students or a Girl Scout troop, guiding them towards understanding of the world around them. Also on my list was the country of Japan. I had visited Japan in 2008 for a conference, and I was positively itching to return.
It may seem obvious, but it took me roughly 26 years to understand what to do next. I began to search for career opportunities that would incorporate all of the things I loved the most. I learned about the JET program, which allows foreigners with little Japanese ability to teach conversational English in Japanese K-12 schools.While admittedly light on science, JET gave me an avenue to combine my love for teaching with my love for Japan. In April 2014 I was accepted for a position in the rural Shimane prefecture. Leaving the comfort, security, and paycheck of my job in mining, I dropped everything and moved to Japan. This is one of the most difficult and rewarding things I have ever done.
Now it’s February 2015, and it has been almost a year since I admitted to myself that I couldn’t envision myself in a scientific career for the rest of my life. Currently I am happily living and working in Japan. I don’t make much money, I don’t speak very much Japanese yet, and this job is only guaranteed for one year at a time. But I am the happiest I have been in a long time. Intriguingly, science has worked its way back into my life. I now live in a country with a drastically declining birth rate where women are feeling more pressure than ever to stay home and have babies. The UNESCO 2007 UIS database (UN statistics division) estimates that women make up just 25% of tertiary science enrolment at Japanese universities. Females in this country have very little encouragement to get involved in STEM fields, and Japan has the lowest number of registered female scientists out of any OECD country.
My past success in science places me squarely in an unintended science advocate role in my Japanese school. I am known among my local JET cohort as “the scientist”and at school, even outside of classes, I often speak about science and career opportunities in science with my senior high school students and staff members. I have several science-minded community activities up my sleeve. Recently I’ve had the opportunity to coach high-profile Japanese scientists in a nearby materials science laboratory about how to give the best scientific presentations in English. And I’m having a blast.
It took extreme career upheaval and a trans-Pacific move, but science is suddenly fun again. Science and I did have a connection; it just wasn’t the one I was trying to force it to be. Our connection was embedded in one of the other things that make me most happy: education. I am enjoying my time in Japan so much that I signed on for a second year with JET, and when I get back to the US I plan to begin my PhD in science education.


