I could see the calculations taking place in my parents’ minds. A Harvard professor is traveling particularly to see their daughter. opportunity for research. They recognized and appreciated this type of intellectual honor, which they had witnessed being given to Marcus but never to me.
Dad blurted out, “We’d love to meet Dr. Foster.” “Honey, wouldn’t we? We would be delighted to learn more about Sarah’s research prospects.
Twenty minutes later, I was in the bizarre situation of having my parents listen intently to Dr. Amanda Foster, who had come from Boston to talk about my future study. Dr. Foster was smart, accomplished, and really enthusiastic about the job we would be doing together—everything I could have asked for.
Dr. Foster was telling my enthralled family, “Sarah’s undergraduate research is remarkably sophisticated.” At her level, the majority of students are still learning the fundamentals of lab work. Sarah has discovered new protein interactions that may result in early Alzheimer’s patient intervention techniques.
Dad repeated, “Early intervention,” as if he were making notes in his head. “That seems really significant.”
According to Dr. Foster, “it could change how we approach neurodegenerative diseases.” Millions of individuals could benefit from Sarah’s work. Harvard was so keen to get her into our program because of this.
Marcus, who had been remarkably silent, eventually raised his voice. What sort of chronology are we referring to? I’m referring to the research.
Dr. Foster clarified, “The MD-PhD program is eight years.” Three to four years are devoted to research and dissertation after four years of medical school coursework.
Sarah will be a working doctor and a research scientist by the time she graduates. She will be able to work at any large medical facility or research facility worldwide.
“Any major medical center,” Mom said again. “In the world.”
Dr. Foster described research options, possible partnerships with other schools, and the type of career path I may anticipate for the next twenty minutes of the interview. My family listened to Marcus’s tales from law school or Dad’s business meetings with the same level of focus.
My family and I stood in awkward quiet on the lawn until Dr. Foster finally excused herself to catch her flight back to Boston, vowing to stay in touch throughout the summer.
“I guess you’re, like, really smart,” Emma finally remarked.
If it hadn’t been so indicative of how little my family truly knew about my academic life, it would have been humorous. Emma was seventeen years old.
