Having been raised in a home with a flood plain for a backyard, I spent my free time conducting my own science experiments. Documenting how close I could walk to a group of frogs before they all stopped chirping, how the biodiversity of a field changed in relation to distance from the main road using transects, how quickly a swarm of bees could respond to me disturbing their beehive (I don't recommend trying that experiment), and so much more, I fell in love with the natural world and all the questions left to be answered. This love propelled me through college, graduating Summa Cum Laude from the University of California, San Diego with a BS in Biology: Ecology, Behavior, and Evolution in less than three years. I got out of school and KNEW I wanted to do research.
Sweaty, happy, and hunting for sloths!
So I moved to Costa Rica and researched plants, pollinators, and, my personal favorite, sloths (of both the two and three-toed variety). I worked to develop a citizen science program, complete with a mobile phone app, so members of the community and tourists alike could help my organization collect data on sloths while I was in the field rehabilitating and researching them. However, my time performing research was cut short when my mother passed and I had to return to the United States. Upon returning, I found myself increasingly drifting away from research and instead towards sharing my love of science with the community. Whether in the air on a zipline, on the ocean in a kayak, or behind the wheel of a double-decker bus, I found myself inspiring others with my stories and experiences, motivating them to create stories and experiences of their own. In other words, I was teaching. And I loved it!
Leading a mock-debate regarding solutions to the Flint Water Crisis
The more I explored the world of teaching, the more I realized how well it fit my life goals. I had always wanted to make a difference, to serve my community and its future as a scientist. But now I'm understanding that research is not the only way to accomplish such a mission. Through teaching, I can equip students with scientific literacy. I can open the doors to the scientific world and give them a taste of all the wonders waiting to be discovered. I can help them understand what had once been intimidating and seemingly incomprehensible, and I can provide them with a language to discuss problems and create solutions. I can provide my students with a classroom in which they feel welcome and understood, a culture in which they feel supported and cared for. I can inspire future scientists, future world leaders, future citizens of our ever-changing planet, to work towards a brighter future. I can change the world, one student at a time. This is the mission that drives me, this is the mission that gives me hope. A final note, as I've witnessed the world's response to the novel COVID-19: Miscommunication and fear are bred by misunderstanding. And in this time, misunderstanding is abundant. Misunderstanding about the virus itself, misunderstandings about the actions we are being called to make, even misunderstandings regarding the solutions we are creating. By and large, these misunderstandings exist because scientific literacy does not. The ability to determine which sources are reliable, knowledge regarding how data is gathered, the vocabulary needed to translate so much of the information being shared with our society; these are all still very much absent. As a science teacher, it is my responsibility to change this normal and work to ensure a more scientifically-literate community. To provide others will tools to access information and to be able to determine truths and make informed decisions, rather than be overwhelmed into fear and inaction. Because when misunderstanding becomes understanding, fear loses its power.
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