What Five Years of Graduate School Taught Me About Protecting Your Spark

Observing Hope 6.23.25

Jun 23, 2025

Dear friends,

Now that graduation season has come and gone, I find myself reflecting on the lessons these past five years have taught me. I keep coming back to these truths:

1. You are your own scientist
No one else is leading your work. You have advisors, mentors, and classes, but at the end of the day you drive your path forward. Remembering that is key to standing up for yourself and pursuing what lights you up.

2. Create your own path
The traditional academic timeline? The "expected" career progression? They're suggestions, not requirements. The most successful people I know forged completely unique routes building bridges between disciplines that "shouldn't" connect.

3. You know more than you think you do
Internalized misogyny loves to whisper lies about our competence. But here's what I've learned: that uncomfortable feeling of being in over your head? It's not evidence you don't belong—it's evidence you're growing. Every single person you admire has felt exactly the same way.

4. You belong in every room
This one's still hard some days. But I've learned that belonging isn't granted by others—it's claimed by you. Your perspective, your questions, your way of thinking? They're not accidents. They're exactly what the room needs, even when it doesn't feel that way.

5. People over everything
The equations will be forgotten. The presentations will fade. But the late-night conversations with friends, the professors who saw something in you before you saw it yourself, the community who celebrated your small wins—those connections are the real treasure. Invest in them fiercely.

6. Observe hope daily
This isn't toxic positivity—it's survival strategy. In a field where rejection and failure are constant companions, you have to actively look for evidence that good things are possible. Hope is a practice, not a feeling that just shows up.

7. Hobbies are where life is
The things you do "just for fun" aren't frivolous—they're lifelines. They remind you who you are beyond your achievements. My Saturday morning hikes, my terrible attempts at painting, my obsession with Taylor Swift lyrics—these aren't distractions from my "real" work. They're what make the work sustainable.

8. Play is where the best thinking happens
Some of my best research insights have come while doing Legos or having ridiculous conversations with friends. Innovation thrives in relaxed minds. Give yourself permission to think sideways, to be silly, to follow curious rabbit holes that seem unrelated to your "serious" work.

9. Travel expands our horizons (literally and figuratively)
Whether it's studying abroad, attending conferences in new cities, or just exploring a different neighborhood, changing your physical perspective changes your mental one. Some of my biggest breakthroughs have happened away from my usual environment.

10. Peer mentoring is just as important as mentors from above
Yes, find advisors and professors who inspire you. But don't underestimate the power of learning alongside people who are figuring it out in real-time too. Some of my most valuable guidance has come from classmates just a year ahead of me who remember exactly what it feels like to be where I am.

11. When you're lost, pour into others
This one surprised me. When I've felt most uncertain about my own path, the thing that's helped most is focusing on helping someone else with theirs. Mentoring undergraduates, answering questions from prospective students, sharing what I've learned—it reminds me how much I actually do know and how far I've come.

With my eyes on the stars and hope in my heart,

Emma

In My Library

Books and words that showed up exactly when I needed them. The passages I've underlined twice and why they might be exactly what you need right now too.

Before my trip to Africa, where I get to see the same chimpanzees Jane Goodall studied, I am reading In the Shadow of Man. I’m not far enough in to give a full reflection yet, but so far the story and message are powerful.

Also, if you haven't listened to her recent Call Her Daddy episode, do it. Hearing her laugh and talk about hope at 91 is pure joy.

Full In My Library List

|glim mer | noun a moment in your day that makes you feel hope, peace, joy, or gratitude

The moments, stories, and discoveries that made me pause this week. The kind of good news I'd text you about immediately because it's too smile inducing not to share.

My glimmer this week: trying hibiscus ice cream at our local soft serve place and realizing I was witnessing something beautiful. Lines stretching out the door, families with sticky-fingered toddlers discovering new flavors, teenagers on nervous first dates, elderly couples sharing a cone and reminiscing about their own young romance.

Community gathering over something as simple as frozen treats. In our increasingly digital world, watching neighbors meet face-to-face over the simple joy of trying something delicious felt like a small revolution. It reminded me that connection doesn't have to be complicated—sometimes it's just about showing up in the same place and being delighted by the same thing.

On My Mind

Questions I'm sitting with and thoughts that won't leave me alone. The stuff I'd bring up at a coffee chat.

"You have overcome so much uncertainty in your life! Don’t forget that!" A friend said this during a phone call as I shared my nerves about an upcoming transition. It stopped me completely in my tracks.

Why do we forget how far we've come? Why do we have perfect recall for every failure, every embarrassing moment, every time we felt small—but somehow conveniently forget every obstacle we've navigated, every time we figured it out when we thought we couldn't, every moment we surprised ourselves with our own resilience?

One Small Action

A simple practice that's helping me right now. The kind of gentle nudge I'd give if we were walking side by side through whatever you're facing.

As we close out the first half of the year, spend ten minutes reflecting on your journey so far. Not what you've accomplished (though celebrate that too), but what you've learned about yourself. What surprised you about your own strength? What assumptions about yourself turned out to be wrong? What did you discover you were capable of?

Write these down—not for anyone else, but for future you who might need the reminder that you're more resilient than you realize.

If you feel like sharing one lesson in the comments, I'd love to celebrate how far you've come. Sometimes we need witnesses to our own growth.

Observing Hope