Category: grad student life

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.
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Proof that I am six years old. But that’s, Junior Ranger Six-Year-Old to you. 

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.

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Plus, Chelsea was in New Mexico too!

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.

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Some epic CouchSurfing festival Highland games in Edinburgh during my travels.

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.

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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.

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Photographic evidence of Meridith and Chelsea’s especially long friendship. Taken at Meridith’s house in 1997.

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.

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A photo of me at my job as a mining geologist in Nevada.

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.

Part 1: A Totally Expected Journey

How We Came to be Here – A Story in Three Parts

This week, myself, Meridith, and a guest author, will be sharing our 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.      

“It is not the only or the easiest way to come to the truth. It is one way.” – Wendell Berry


Part 1:  A Totally Expected Journey


When applying for my PhD program, my soon-to-be mentor offered up some solid advice about writing and entrance essay to an ecology graduate program, “For the love of God, don’t tell us how you were a little kid with a bucket on the beach.”  Good advice for standing out in the pile of 100 essays written by little kids playing in the sand who grew up to become would-be scientists playing the sand.  I am, now, going to completely disregard that advice.  Here, making our point this week, I think it’s important.



I was introduced to the natural world, bare feet first, on my family farm in rural Kentucky.  My parents are both trained scientists, a plant pathologist and a horticulturist.  However, when I was young, my father worked as a control room operator in a factory and mother ran our family farm.  We grew tobacco and various crops for sale and subsistence.  I grew up working our fields, learning about photosynthesis from pea plants, and cataloguing crayfish in the aquarium (or five) my parents let me keep on the front porch.  I poked, I planted, and I was taught the names of trees before I knew the names of all the states.  My first celebrity crush was Jeff Corwin.  My brother has a degree in Aquatic Biology and my sister is working on her MS in Ecology and Ecosystem Sciences.  To say we never had a chance to be anything other than science nerds is, likely, the understatement of the year.         
Evidence 1:  I planted that watermelon.  I was over the moon when it started to grow.  I think this image says a lot.


Despite the fact that I told people I wanted to be a field biologist when I was 10, I lost sight of that ideal during high school.  Career tests don’t usually turn up “ecologist” as an option.  Lucky for me, in the spring of my freshman year, the second half of the intro bio series for majors focused on biodiversity, conservation, and ecology.  And, here was a person instructing the course who seemed to be making his career out of asking questions about the way nature worked!  I’ve been exceedingly lucky to have amazing mentors in my life, and Dr. Mike Stokes was the first.  Before the semester was out, he had helped me secure a position working in the Aquatic Ecology Lab with Dr. Scott Grubbs.  I spent the summer in streams and rivers all over western Kentucky.  I stopped thinking about Jeff Corwin and started day dreaming about Raymond Lindeman and EO Wilson.  

Evidence 2:  The adult Wigginton siblings, turning over rocks.
This was also the summer when Meridith decided to be my best friend.  I mention this because I’m super duper shy, and the way I remember the start of our relationship goes something like this:  Mer – “Can I come over to your house and watch a movie?”  Rach – “Sure, if you don’t have anything you’d rather do.” *proceed to drink leftover keg beer out of milk cartons and sing Moulin Rouge songs* (Editor’s note: Rachel’s the cutest if she thought I wasn’t going to add THE picture of this night. See below.) I don’t just bring this up to talk about how adorable we are (though, obvi), but because having another young, female friend who was very serious about becoming a research scientist was fundamental to my success.  Meridith has always inspired me.  And, she introduced me to her, and soon to be my, undergraduate mentor, Dr. Albert Meier.  I told Albert about myself and my interests, and he told me I should get a PhD.     


Falling in bestie love.

Fast forward four years, and I had written an honor’s thesis, which was difficult, done research in several countries, which was a blast, and applied for lots of fancy scholarships to get my graduate degree overseas.  I don’t get any of them.  I was pretty disappointed, so taking a year off from school seemed like the best plan.  Unfortunately, it was 2008, and around January 2009 I realize that trying to find a job right then was going to be the literal worst.  


When people ask how I ended up studying tidal marshes in California, I usually say that I wanted to translate my aquatic research experience to a marine environment, and I wanted to move to California.  That’s true.  There were also very few graduate programs still accepting applications when I decided “Oh yeah, I should do that.”  I have never been luckier than when I emailed Dr. Christine Whitcraft and asked if she had a place for a Master’s Student that fall.  What seemed like a very short amount of time later, I was moving all my belongings over 2,000 miles away from the place I had spent my entire life.  But I loved it.  My MS experience was challenging, there were absolutly times I hated it, but I mostly remember having so much fun!  Having a young, female mentor and a lab full of aspiring (almost entirely) female ecologists was so inspiring.  
Evidence 3:  The women of the Wetland Ecology Lab.  Class, class, class.


For me, getting my MS ended up as a way to get more experience so that I could go into my PhD program prepared.  I think I really lucked out that I ran out of time to apply for PhD positions in 2009; I don’t think I would have made it if I’d even been accepted.  But, post-MS, I felt prepared and excited.  Choosing a PhD program was difficult and simple all at the same time.  UC Davis was my top choice because it kept my partner and I in California and the program seem to suit my personality and career goals.  I cast a wide net, but ended up moving up the California coast to start my PhD right after finishing my MS.  

Which leads me to…here, where I am now.  I’ve been in school from the time I turned 5, I’ve always known what I wanted to be, and when I was 19, someone finally put a name to that ideal.  Ecologist.  Of the three stories you will read this week, mine is probably the most boring.  I wanted to be an ecologist, someone told me I should get a PhD in ecology to be and ecologist, and now I’m doing that.  

I won’t say there haven’t been times when I thought about quitting (my first field season for my PhD was very, very rough) or instances where I’ve let my personal life and relationships lead my career decisions (there is a long list of schools I didn’t even apply to because the locations didn’t work my partner).  However, I’ve always had a very strong idea of what my goal was.  Recently, I’ve come to realize that my degree goal isn’t actually an endgame.  There are so many ways to “be an ecologist,” and I’m currently giving a lot of thought to how, where, and why, I want to practice my science.  I’m excited for my very linear life trajectory to get a little more twisty in the years to come.         
Exactly how I remember my first year of getting paid to do ecology.  2006.