My Idea Notebook
My drawer has a single inhabitant, my idea notebook. A physical extension of my mind, each page frames the different parts of me. This essay embodies Ethan Samuel Lin. This essay is me.
Page 4: “Castor and Pollux.”
tenOever Lab: For the past few months, my family was struck by unfortunate events. My father was unemployed, my mother was ailing, and my home was dried of hope and flooded with wet tears. The day I discovered the twin rabies viruses, Castor and Pollux, was a day of hope. This discovery provided a break from all the negatives and showed me that no matter how bad things are, science is there to support me. Even in my darkest moments, there are moments of inquiry and discovery that make you have faith in yourself. This was my breakthrough, not discovering the viruses, but discovering hope.
Page 9: “$1857.85 JFK to TPE.”
Poetry House: I’m searching for the cheapest flight to and from Taiwan for a summer trip that never happened. The ticket prices accompany places I wanted to visit and foods I yearned to eat. Yet the main events are visiting my grandparents and teaching English to schoolchildren for a program designed to help Taiwanese-Americans connect with their roots. I call my grandparents every Friday, but meeting them in person is a different, and special, experience. When I visited them at fourteen they took me to a Japanese buffet with live sashimi demonstrations. A beautiful depiction of culinary skills, I clapped, expecting praise from others in the crowd. Yet, alone in my joy, I was treated with awkward silence and stares.
Page 13; “Would you fight 100 rat-sized tigers or 1 tiger-sized rat?”
Room 703: Today is the first day of my research mentoring program. When I mentor students, I see a mirror of my past self, lost in a chaotic world of science, and I want to be the one to guide them through this world. While the research club develops students’ fascinations with scientific inquiry, I begin not with science but levity. When I mentor, I start by asking absurd questions, allowing group members to share parts of who they are–the humorous side, the serious side, the quirky side–in a comfortable environment. With each silly question builds mutual connection and, with time, a beautiful connection as researchers.
Page 25: “Express your agreement numerically: ‘Having a mental disorder is a choice.”’
Stuyvesant: Seeing the effects of our stressful school environment on my peers, I wanted to understand student views on mental health and partnered with an upperclassman to construct a survey to assess our peers’ beliefs. While the study set out to find a quantitative answer, I realized what was far more important was the qualitative dimension of what my peers had to say. The majority of participants stressed the importance of supporting others with mental illnesses. This revealed the complexity of research and how studying human interactions can’t be constrained to a numerical system–numbers cannot define an experience.
Page 29: “Effects CNS, respiratory symptoms, inflammation of the brain”
Lee Lab: I’m researching ways to prevent the next pandemic. Not coronavirus, but the Nipah virus. While this is a dangerous virus, each day I yearned to review my notes to analyze my most recent batch of antibodies. There was a feeling in the lab that I couldn’t pin down until much later. In contrast to the classroom where memorization reigns triumphant, for me, the lab represents a space of experience. Rather than only thinking with scientific theories, I formulate my own. Labs are a way for me to continue creating new knowledge of the microbiological world.
Together, my idea notebook provides a compilation of the things most dear to me and the experiences that frame who I am. Wherever life takes me, there are blank pages ready to be filled.