Junior in environmental science. I have to write a research paper proposing original research. Not just summarizing what other people found — actually proposing something NEW. A question no one has answered yet. A hypothesis I could test.
I'm 20 years old. I've been studying this for two years. What do I possibly have to say that thousands of actual scientists haven't already thought of? Every time I try to come up with a research question, I either land on something that's been done a million times, or something so ridiculous that I laugh at myself. "The effect of sunlight on plant growth." Done. "The emotional lives of trees." Not science.
My advisor says to start with something I'm actually curious about. Something I've noticed that doesn't quite make sense. Something that made me go "huh, that's weird." So I've been thinking. Last summer, I worked at a community garden in a low-income neighborhood. I noticed that some plots did really well and others struggled, even though they were right next to each other. Same sun, same water, same soil. But different outcomes. Why?
I started wondering if it was about the gardeners themselves. Their experience, their time, their knowledge. Could social factors affect garden outcomes as much as environmental ones? That's my research question now. Not about plants, really. About people. About access to knowledge. About who gets to grow food successfully and why.
It feels small. It feels obvious. But my advisor says small is okay. Obvious isn't obvious until someone proves it. And no one has studied THIS garden, THESE gardeners, THIS community. That's original enough.
Maybe I do have something to say after all. Maybe we all do, if we pay attention to the right things.
I'm 20 years old. I've been studying this for two years. What do I possibly have to say that thousands of actual scientists haven't already thought of? Every time I try to come up with a research question, I either land on something that's been done a million times, or something so ridiculous that I laugh at myself. "The effect of sunlight on plant growth." Done. "The emotional lives of trees." Not science.
My advisor says to start with something I'm actually curious about. Something I've noticed that doesn't quite make sense. Something that made me go "huh, that's weird." So I've been thinking. Last summer, I worked at a community garden in a low-income neighborhood. I noticed that some plots did really well and others struggled, even though they were right next to each other. Same sun, same water, same soil. But different outcomes. Why?
I started wondering if it was about the gardeners themselves. Their experience, their time, their knowledge. Could social factors affect garden outcomes as much as environmental ones? That's my research question now. Not about plants, really. About people. About access to knowledge. About who gets to grow food successfully and why.
It feels small. It feels obvious. But my advisor says small is okay. Obvious isn't obvious until someone proves it. And no one has studied THIS garden, THESE gardeners, THIS community. That's original enough.
Maybe I do have something to say after all. Maybe we all do, if we pay attention to the right things.
