Old Words

I recently sent out some tutoring applications, which gave me an opportunity to peruse some dusty files from my academic career. I stumbled across an essay I had written for the National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship Program.

I'm a little surprised how much my perception of the essay, and myself, has changed since late 2005. As late as 2007, I had thought it was a pretty good essay, and that by writing it, I was holding myself to the standards I had outlined. I had spent a couple months working on it, passing drafts back and forth with my adviser. To this day, I'm grateful for his tremendous insights into the grant application process, as well as the time and effort he expended on my behalf.


Now I'm just embarrassed by it - it does come across as an odd combination of naive and arrogant. Then again, I think I have trouble accepting the need to sell myself as much as it is required to effectively land a job and be promoted.

I think I'm posting this, partly because I think there are a couple people who were curious WHY I got an NSF fellowship. I think I'm also posting it because I do believe there are principles I espoused that I did believe, but haven't made the effort to follow through with actions. And the more people who know about that, and hold me accountable to that, the better.

The comments I got back indicated that it was my application, and not my academic record, that got me the fellowship. The reviews also suggest that it was this essay - perhaps a compelling narrative with some good principles and ideas - that might have been the decisive factor. (Concerns were raised that my research plan was a bit vague.)

Energy and vision paper over many limitations, at least initially. I'm reminded that vision is a critical component to transformational leadership. A vision is needed at an individual level to move from what is to what will be, what must be. Khrushchev, for all of his failings, had those in spades.

So here's to solidifying- but not ossifying- vague principles into a still ethereal, but more manageable vision. I'll start with personal matters - a renewed Office of Technology Assessment will have to wait for many, many years.


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Essay 1 prompt

NSF Fellows are expected to become knowledge experts and leaders who can contribute significantly to research, education, and innovations in science and engineering. The purpose of this essay is to demonstrate your potential to satisfy this requirement. Your ideas and examples do not have to be confined necessarily to the discipline that you have chosen to pursue. Describe any personal, professional, or educational experiences or situations that have prepared you or contributed to your desire to pursue advanced study in science, technology, engineering, or mathematics. Describe your competencies and evidence of leadership potential. Discuss your career aspirations and how the NSF fellowship will enable you to achieve your goals. Provide specific details in the narrative that address the NSF Merit Review Criteria of Intellectual Merit and Broader Impacts as described in the program announcement.

I was six years old when Voyager sent its final images of the solar system. I was enchanted by the dramatic, mysterious blues of Neptune and the icy volcanoes of Triton. Voyager taught me about the solar system, but it also taught me about the human need to understand the universe and our place in it. Each Voyager spacecraft carried a record titled the Sounds of Earth, filled with music, images, and greetings from across the globe. Even then, I understood the important symbolism of that message of peace and hope floating to the stars as the Berlin Wall crumbled and a new generation dared to dream. This is a vision that still inspires me and drives me, one that experience and education have refined but never tamed or diminished.

Voyager was just the beginning. I loved learning physics, and enjoyed my coursework at Harvey Mudd College. I'm still amazed by the power of physics to explain a wide variety of systems, from neurons to sunsets to black hole accretion disks. My coursework and research taught me how to think critically and reject half-hearted comprehension. I learned to focus, work hard, and push myself to learn concepts and do projects that I thought were beyond my grasp. It is beautiful to see so much science I have studied--solid state physics, fluid mechanics, thermodynamics, quantum mechanics, relativity, optics, and chemistry--come together in astronomy. I draw upon all of my training to solve research problems, and I treasure that breadth of background and experience that I received as an undergraduate. Research continues to test my understanding, my creativity, and my patience, but I have learned to approach problems with quiet confidence and humility.

While studying science, I met people who were were themselves complex and fascinating. Harvey Mudd boasts students and professors marked by their passion and creativity in all aspects of life; it was as if studying the natural world gave all of us a greater appreciation of life's rich beauty. The astronomers I met in courses and at conferences were broad-minded, independent individuals, experts in their field but also able to use their minds to understand the wider world. It is an honor to be part of this community of truly extraordinary people.

When I was young, I was fortunate to have relatives, teachers, and clergy who encouraged my interest in space. Now, with a group of Cornell astronomy students, I am trying to do the same by answering questions from the public on our astronomy website (http://curious.astro.cornell.edu). It's a fun and rewarding way to encourage public interest in astronomy. I've learned a lot from these questions, and feel they really help me understand astronomy. A friend once told me that if I can't explain my research to a child in kindergarten, then I don't really understand it.

I've learned that it is important to convince senators as well as six-year olds. This summer I attended an international seminar on the European Union in Rome and presented a paper on European space policy. I was impressed by my brilliant and friendly peers. But I was also shocked by how little they knew about their domestic research programs or the implications of science on their field. Italian scientists told me not only about their research; they also described frustration and difficulties stemming from a national freeze on tenure and low research budgets. Scientists know how to reach across continents to solve common research problems. We must make sure we reach out with equal ardor to policymakers, not only to ensure the vitality of our research, but also to help all people better enjoy the benefits of modern science.

I also know that scientists must always remember that we work within a larger society. I spent a good part of my free time in college coordinating volunteer activities. I enjoy working with people who can see beyond the ``bubble world" of deadlines and dorm life to work for positive change in the community. With the help of many wonderful friends, I encouraged our scientific community to think about the world we want for ourselves and the future. We donated blood, organized canned food drives, volunteered with a food pantry, sent books and letters to prisoners, worked on Habitat for Humanity houses, and shared laughter and stories with homeless men during our Saturday Brunch program. These experiences taught me about project management, budget fights, and even corporate liability, and will be helpful when I lead a research team. But more importantly, these actions made a tangible difference in our community. We connected with people beyond the safe world of middle-class familiarity, and I believe we are better for it. We found balance and perspective, and now see both our duty and capacity to build a more just and compassionate world.

I look forward to research in extrasolar planets, to the excitement and recognition that will come with the discovery of other Earths. Yet I am also mindful of the debt I owe to those who helped me get here, and to those who weren't so fortunate. I remember the world I left behind when I graduated from a poor public high school. I remember the critical importance of those few great teachers who fought standardization and indifference to bring passion and inspiration to the classroom. As a member of the Harvey Mudd chapter of the Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers, I mentored students interested in science from my high school district, located in a low-income, first-generation Hispanic and Asian community. Our shared experiences--problems with principals, crime on campus, and a consistently bad football team--helped us connect and understand each other. It scared me to think how close I came to forgetting our shared history, our community, while I pursued personal glory and curiosity. It took the daylight drive-by shooting of a student two blocks from my house to remind me that the situation is urgent and grave. To these men and women we mentor, science is not only a beautiful subject and a way to serve mankind, but also a source of freedom from the poverty and violence that grips our community. I owe it to them to help them bring honor and a better life for their families, find freedom from violence, and restore dignity and hope to our hometown.

The opportunities and challenges of science in the twenty-first century will call upon the visionary ambition, technical brilliance, and personal character of the citizen-scientist. We need people who will exemplify the excellent and somewhat paradoxical meld of tradition and revolution that characterizes scientific inquiry. It is a difficult thing to ask of anyone, but I know I am not alone. I have the inspiring example and fellowship of other brilliant, compassionate scientists. Together, we will push the frontiers of research, serve our communities, and engage a quickly-changing world with passion, determination, humility, and conscience.