SciChronicles

Grit and Graffiti

• Kayla Burgher and Risa Schnebly

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In the episode of SciChronicles, two storytellers tell us about their winding paths towards becoming researchers. 

Our first storyteller, Kelle Dhein, is a historian and philosopher of science who recently became an assistant professor in the School of Complex Adaptive Systems. Kelle shares an origin story that might be unexpected for an academic, and encourages others in the sciences to get real about where they come from.

The second story is from Austin Blackmon, a PhD candidate in the Molecular and Cellular Biology program doing research on an enzyme important to developing cancer treatments. Austin shares why he's always been intent on doing cancer research, but how it took him a long time to get to where he is now.

If you have not already, please consider subscribing so you do not miss future episodes. Also, be sure to check out ASU's Ask a Biologist and its companion podcast, as well.

 Kayla Burgher: 0:08

Welcome to SciChronicles. My name is Kayla Burgher, and this is a podcast where scientists share stories about why they do science. From the outside,becoming a scientist might seem straightforward, right? You go to school for a long time, then start to work in a lab or the field. But as you listen to these stories from scientists at different stages of their careers, it becomes clear that pursuing this path is anything but straightforward. Our storytellers reveal pivotal moments in their lives that changed the course of their career. So whether you're considering pursuing science yourself, or just curious about who scientists are, take a listen. You might be surprised by what you discover.

Our first storyteller is Kelly Dhein, an ASU School of Life Sciences Alumni who recently returned to ASU as a professor. Kelly studies the history and philosophy of science now, but as a teenager, philosophy was the last thing on his mind. He shares a story from those years revealing how scientists can come from unexpected places if the right person is given a chance.

 

Kelle Dhein: 1:15

I was flat on my stomach, hands behind my head, face pressed against the sandpaper shingles of a stranger's roof. 

"Now stay there just like that, or I'll shoot you!" A man shouted up to me.

There were at least five hours left until sunrise, and save for one man holding a large silver pistol, the street was deserted. I was somewhere deep in the suburbs of North Phoenix, and though I couldn't have been very far from home, I didn't recognize my surroundings. In the yellow gobs of sodium vapor street lights, all the beige houses looked the same. "I've called the police," He shouted, "if you try to run, I'll shoot you right here. You're on my property, and I have the right." The man's voice rang clear through the night. Moments earlier, I had been completely absorbed in the adrenaline of trespassing. Now that trance was broken, and I was painfully aware of how I looked to the world, dressed in all black, debating whether to risk a gunshot wound or wait for the police.

"Describe your personal educational and or professional experiences that motivate your decision to pursue advanced study in science, technology, engineering or mathematics." 

It's a deceptively simple question. Standard responses involve waxing poetic about the beauty and usefulness of your field, telling some story that demonstrates how even from an early age, you were a special little Einstein destined for greatness, and maybe if you're a member of an underrepresented group, or someone you know was addicted to drugs, or you were poor... ish, or no one ever came to your parent-teacher conferences, you can describe how you came up from the ashes to succeed despite everything.

I know those strategies because I've used some of them myself. Of course, I've never lied in my applications for funding, but I've also never found a way to fully come clean and connect that teenager on the roof with the academic speaking to you today.

Why would I bother making that connection at all? Well, if someone asked me, I would say it's because our profession cheats itself by holding onto formulaic narratives that launder the strangeness out of an inherently strange vocation. In the months following my arrest, all kinds of people wanted to know what I was doing on that man's roof. I had a hard time explaining myself. A huge reason I climbed on that roof is the same reason I shaved my head into a mohawk and became the skinniest third string lineman on my high school's football team. I was an angry, thrill seeking, hormone-crazed adolescent. I liked being out past curfew. I liked feeling like the villain in a children's story. I liked spray paint, and I chafed at the pervasive attitude that being smart is a safe and serious undertaking, never vulgar, never absurd, never risky. 

So one night, while my mother thought I was somewhere I wasn't, I dared myself to do something new. I picked a house on a whim, climbed atop the backyard fence, hopped on top of a stranger's home and marked it with that timeless symbol of unarticulated chutzpah: a penis. A penis, absurd and childish, long as a school bus and wide as a house. I sprayed that sucker on. It was offensive, completely beneath me, and it made me laugh.

I've mellowed out since then. I'm not proud about damaging that man's property and frightening him in the middle of the night. But if you really want to understand someone, why they do the things they do, you can't just watch a well edited highlight reel. Take it from a now historian and philosopher of science: your reasons for doing science are not incidental to the science you produce. Being curious about the world, wanting to improve the world, these traits so commonly referenced in professional autobiographies aren't unique to scientists. What's interesting about you as a scientist is what happened in your life that caused you to elevate curiosity so high that you chose to pursue such a precarious profession. Whether I care to examine it or not, there is a through line connecting the juvenile delinquent with the academic I am today. We both want to give ourselves away to grandiose projects, climb above it all and take a God's eye view.

The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves matter, not just because it's somehow better to be authentic than fake, but because science, this whole intergenerational enterprise of collective inquiry, cannot be defined solely in terms of methods, theories, questions and explanations. To really understand science, we have to try and understand the people who do science, and the ways their dispositions and prejudices inevitably guide their work, which is why I encourage each of you to rattle your own can of metaphorical spray paint, get real, and write something personal next time you're faced with a personal statement.

Kayla Burgher: 6:14

Our next storyteller is Austin Blackmon, a PhD candidate in Molecular and Cellular Biology whose research could one day help find a treatment for cancer. In this story, Austin tells us about the bumpy road into finding opportunities to do research in a field that so many people want to be in. But he also shares the much more personal reasons that led him to pursue cancer research with so much passion in the first place.

Austin Blackmon: 6:40

Hello. My name is Austin Blackman. I'm a fifth year PhD candidate in the molecular and cellular biology program doing cancer research. Usually when I tell people that, they respond with, "Oh, wow, you must be super smart." And my next thought is, I didn't pick this career because I was smart. If I'd been smart, I probably would have done something that paid better. No, I'm here because of the impact cancer has had on my life from my childhood to the present day. My story starts out like many others: on a dark and foggy night. I was eight years old, driving with my family in our white suburban through Northern California from the back seat, I watched my dad in the rear view mirror navigate these rolling hills. It was scary not being able to see past the headlights, yet I felt safe because my father's hands were on the wheel.

Our quiet drive was interrupted when my dad's phone rang with a call from his sister, and he answered with his usual big smile, "Hey sis!" But slowly, my dad's smile disappeared as he heard that his mom, my grandmother, had just died of liver cancer. He handed the phone to my mom, and tears began to well up in his eyes and roll down his face. For the first time, I saw my hero cry. As we drove along with nothing but the sound of our grief, I felt so helpless, unable to help my dad, and heartbroken from my first experience of loss. 

These profound feelings led to this dramatic proclamation: "Hey! I'm gonna find a cure for cancer."

My mom turned around and followed up with, "like a doctor?"

And I shook my head, "no, like a scientist," and with that statement, I was loosed like an arrow driven toward that singular goal.

And fast forward 10 years, I am now an arrogant 18 year old studying biomedical sciences while minoring in chemistry at Northern Arizona University in the beautiful mountain town of Flagstaff. I was still on my mission to become a cancer researcher, and I was determined to get a job at NAU's Pathogen and Microbiome Institute.

The previous fall semester, ya boy had aced both bio 181 lecture and lab, and the microbiology course I was taking was teaching me how to pipette. Obviously, I was the ideal candidate for this highly coveted undergraduate research position, so I filled out the application, sauntered over to the lab's Dropbox and submitted the paperwork. Never heard back. Oof--that one stung, But nonetheless, I was not deterred! But after another year in school and another rejected application, I began to get discouraged. I was looking for other opportunities, but what else was I going to do?

I brought this up with my college roommate, and he told me that he was going to study abroad in Europe. And I thought, hmm, gallivanting across Europe, drinking tea, enjoying croissants? Yeah, I could do that.

For a year, I worked at Chick fil A, I saved up that chicken money, took extra classes all in preparation for this adventure. One of those extra classes was my favorite, organic chemistry. I was one of the students who sat in the front row and was always raising his hand to ask and answer the professor's questions. My enthusiasm caught the attention of a grad student who sat beside me, Heather Mead. One day, she asked me that one question that all college students get: what do you want to do when you grow up?

Fortunately, I still had the same answer I had when I was eight. I told her, “I want to do cancer research, but I don't know if I'm going to be able to because I couldn't get a research position.”

Heather looked at me and said, “Well, that's interesting. I'm actually looking for an undergraduate student to come work with me my lab. Is that something you'd be interested in?” With no hesitation, I was like, YES. Then… 10 seconds later, my brain finally caught up with my mouth. My heart dropped. I remembered I was about to be leaving for the UK. Hmm. She told me, “Okay. Well, I'll keep you in mind.”

Then eight weeks later, I took off on a plane across the Atlantic to study abroad at the University of Leeds, England. This was the scariest decision I've ever made in my life, and it was also the best. For the next six months, I went on an adventure of a lifetime. I met amazing people, I ate delicious food, and I got to explore the world. But in the back of my head, I remembered that Heather was still in the States. So about once a month I emailed her, saying, “hey, having a great time partying in the Netherlands! I'll be back in five months.” And “hey, just relaxing on a beach in Spain, I'll be back in two months” -- You know, everything a hard-working grad student wants to hear. Needless to say, I was absolutely shameless in the pursuit of this position. 

When I finally got back, Heather offered me an interview with her lab. This group did research on valley fever, a fungal disease endemic in the southwest region of the United States. Not cancer, but beggars can't be choosers. This was my chance. I needed to nail this interview. I read like five reviews, took a bunch of notes, and even learned that dolphins can get valley fever.

When the day arrived and I made my way into this enigmatic research lab that I’d applied to many times before, I was so nervous. I had sat outside the office and my heart was pounding in my chest. I was clutching my folder full of notes, wearing my favorite purple dress shirt, my nicest tie, and my only pair of dress shoes. After about the third or fourth trip to the bathroom to relieve my nervous bladder, Heather finally came to get me. She took me back to a room where we were met by the PI Dr Barker, another graduate student and an undergrad. All of them were in their Flagstaff finest: flannels shorts and Birkenstocks.

We all sat down and had a 30-minute interview, after which they had me go outside for the longest five minutes of my life. When they welcomed me back, they smiled at me and told me that I’d gotten the position after my third email to Heather. To say I was thrilled would be an understatement. Fireworks were going off in my head. 

Finally, in my senior year, I found a research lab that was perfect for me. And it wasn't perfect because I was finally doing cancer research. No, it was perfect because the environment that I was working in was fun, supportive, and full of grace, all while giving me the opportunity to study a subject that was really interesting. On top of that, the mentorship I received from Heather and Dr Barker was phenomenal. They believed in me and they pushed me to grow as a scientist. 
They knew full well that my goal was to do cancer research, and instead of trying to stifle me and convince me to continue doing research on valley fever, they encouraged me to do a PhD. 

After I graduated and was looking for programs, Dr. Barker reached out to one of her colleagues, Dr. Doug Lake at ASU. Dr Lake was also working on valley fever and just happened to be studying cancer. She told him about my research interests and experience and how they seem to be divinely aligned with his. Fortunately, Dr. Lake was also excited about this unusual combination we had in common.

This led to him offer me a position as a PhD student in his lab where I got to set an enzyme that just also happens to be important in the type of cancer that my grandmother had.

Now, here I stand, 20 years after I made that bold proclamation as an eight-year-old fighting a disease that took my grandparents and currently afflicts my father. I didn't know what I was signing up for when I started down this path. My scientific journey has humbled me and continues to humble me every single day, while also stretching me well beyond my comfort zone, but every time I'm discouraged, on the brink of giving up and pursuing my other passion of doing sports with young kids and becoming a PE teacher, I think about how I got here, and I'm so grateful. I'm grateful for all those rejections that turned into adventures. I'm thankful that sat in the right seat, in the right class, next to the right person, because that led to me getting into an amazing lab with perfect connections, and I learned along the way that even though my plans fail, God's plans won't, and they're so much better than mine anyways.

Kayla Burgher: 14:58

These SciChronicles stories were originally developed for a live audience as part of the School of Life Sciences story slam at Arizona State University. We would like to thank the School of Life Sciences, as well as the Center for Biology and Society, for funding the Story Slam and Ask A Biologist for helping us make these stories into a podcast. In case you're new to Ask A Biologist. It is an amazing website for all types of learners, young and the young at heart. And best of all, it is free, including its companion podcast, which we recommend checking out. We'll put all of the links to the website and the podcast in the episode notes. This podcast was developed by Kayla Burgher, Risa Aria Schnebly and Charles Kazilek. Thank you for listening, and if you haven't already, please subscribe to this podcast so that you don't miss future episodes.