(This is the 3rd and final post in my series on how I used experience and self-knowledge to find the perfect internship)

I had turned my proposal in and received my funding. Now I was ready to begin my first independent research project. A few weeks into the summer, Dave, my research advisor and mentor, picked me up at 5:00 AM sharp to make the hour and a half long drive from my home town to the park. Rain lashed across our windshield as we ascended a long and windy country road through evergreen forest. The rising sun was just visible, however, as we broke out of the trees and drove across glistening wetlands that border Klamath Lake. I knew, from that moment, that it would be a special summer.

The commute I made 2-4 days per week

I was conducting my study on a threatened species frog found in only in few areas around the Pacific Northwest, including the streams that feed into Crater Lake. This choice was as surprising to me as it was to my family– I had never before been overly zealous about amphibians, although while backpacking as a kid I had demonstrated great proficiency at catching tadpoles in my camping mug. However, just like that little kid, I was curious about nature and excited to be immersed in the outdoors. Incidentally, I had designed my research methods in a way that guaranteed an outdoor adventure.

My project involved mapping the population density of my frog. In order to do this, however, I had to randomize the coordinates for 30 study sites across all the streams throughout the Western half of Crater Lake National Park. To clarify: Crater Lake is a HUGE park of which the lake itself occupies only a relatively small portion. To access all of my study sites, I would have to hike miles through dense woods, rivers, and canyons; drive miles along bumpy dirt roads. My only guide was a GPS unit.

On that first day, Dave, and another member of Dave’s lab, a recent undergrad from Oregon State, and I spent hours hiking through a stream in waders, ice-cold water rushing around the tops of my thighs. Although we walked only a mile through Sun Creek, and I was exhausted. As we sat in the sun in a meadow next to the stream, eating our packed lunches, I dozed off.

Soon, Dave had other projects to work on. After all, I was just one member of his lab. I began driving up to Crater Lake alone several times per week, with an endless stream of podcasts and a killer Spotify playlist (Title: Crater Lake-in’) to fill the silence. The gorgeous drive was meditative for me, and I came to look forward to it. Sometimes, if I was too tired to drive home after a long day of work in the field, I would sleep under the stars and drive home the next day.

I didn’t always do the job alone. I assembled a hodge-podge crew of workers willing to volunteer their days to accompany me on a wild-goose chase through canyons and cold streams to look for tadpoles. Mainly, my helpers turned out to be high school aged boys looking for adventure and something to add to their resume. This, too, was a surprising highlight of my summer. I enjoyed getting to know a part of my community I wouldn’t otherwise have given much time.

My days always involved breathtaking sights, but they could also be uncomfortable and at times frightening. Once, one of my high-school helpers and I spent all morning trying 4 different routes trying to descend into a 500 foot canyon to our study-site. When we finally half-tumbled down a steep, forested ravine to get there, we began hearing thunder. A few times lightning cracked across the sky. It poured until our waders were filled with water and we were completely soaked. But that wasn’t the worst part. All day, I was terrified of a flash flood. Dave had warned me that these sometimes happened. The canyons around Crater Lake are deep, but the streams are tiny, and overflowed easily. If a flashflood were to occur, I wasn’t sure we’d be able to escape.

There was also the day I hiked 15 miles in 90 degree heat, through a shadeless forest of burnt tree snags, and another day when hiking alone, my GPS failed and I had to guess which direction to walk. Once, I was hiking with a friend along the side of a ravine when I stepped in a yellow-jacket’s nest, and then had to keep hiking. Towards the end of the summer, I found myself hiking with a bandana around my mouth, trying not to breathe in the fumes of the seasonal wildfires that raged just miles away.

But no matter how scary or uncomfortable the job got, I felt alive. And I felt I belonged. For the first time since beginning college, I had a concrete sense of direction. I wasn’t sure if I would ultimately end up working for a National Park, or even in wildlife biology. But something about my job at Crater Lake sparked a sense of passion within me. I had gotten everything I wanted out of the job– a new experience, community, and independence.

The Rogue River, just outside of the park boundaries

When I’m seeking out my future career, I’ll apply what I learned from both searching for and working at my Crater Lake internship. Hopefully,  I’ll find something that brings me a similar sense of passion and fulfillment.

(Part 2 of my series on my best and worst internship experiences)

During my sophomore year, as I prepared for my second summer as a college student, I was determined to tailor for myself the perfect summer. The previous summer, which I detail in my last blog post, was difficult, but I’d come out of it in one piece with a new level of self awareness. I had come to the conclusion that my negative experience had little to do with the program I was in, but also wasn’t entirely my fault. It simply had not been a good fit, and that was okay.

As I brainstormed what to do with the coming summer break, I took all the experiences of the previous summer, both positive and negative, into account. For example, here were a few of my problem-solving strategies that helped narrow down my choices

Problem: I had been wildly unhappy living on my own with no friends or family, in an unfamiliar big city.

Solution: Find an internship close enough to my friends and family that I could either live at home or commute back on the weekends.

Me at my job in SF

Problem: I found working among a large team of my peers to be difficult, mainly due to hostile social dynamics. I wanted more personal freedom, and experience working independently.

Solution: Look at internships that involve working on a smaller team, one on one with an adult mentor, or within a group with more varied age ranges and diversity.

Problem: I felt that during the previous summer, I hadn’t pushed myself hard enough to try something new. I went for education because it was something I knew and understood, but the choice was ultimately wrong for me.

Solution: Apply for internships that seem out of reach, and challenge my conceptions of what I am, or am not, qualified to do. Try something with which I have little prior experience.

These were just the major factors I took into consideration.

Now, actually finding the perfect internship posed a huge challenge. As I mentioned in a previous post, I come from a small, rural, town in Southern Oregon. I needed to be very creative finding local nonprofits, businesses, and agencies, and I needed to be extra assertive in asking for work.

I was looking specifically for research, because this fulfilled my other two criteria. It was something I’d never tried before, that felt intimidating to me. When I thought of research, a little voice in my head always chimed in with “Oh, but you can’t do that. That’s for other students!” To me, that was one surefire sign of a good challenge. Plus, research felt more independent, with more opportunity for diverse interactions in the lab.

To find my internship, I started with using the connections I had. My dad is a violin teacher, and my mom is a real estate agent, so I didn’t feel I had a ton to work with. But my friend’s dad taught biology at the local Southern Oregon University, and my dad had a few friends working for state wildlife agencies. I also inquired at two local climate nonprofits, just in case the research opportunities didn’t pan out.

A few connections with whom I inquired never got back to me. That was expected. I was however excited when two of my contacts did respond. One of the climate nonprofits needed help with updating the blog on their website. But best of all, it turned out that the parent of one of my dad’s students, Dave, worked as a fish and wildlife biologist at Crater Lake National Park, a beautiful national landmark two hours from my house. He didn’t offer me an immediate in, but showed me various avenues through which I could apply for research and internships.

The fellowship for which I chose to apply was at the graduate level, but Dave had told me that I had a decent chance of getting it. Besides, hadn’t I wanted to challenge myself to apply for an internship that stretched my qualifications? So I did. With the help of both my advisor at Keck and Dave, I began crafting a long proposal for my independent internship at Crater Lake.

It was a rainy day in April when I got the phone call from Dave– I was in. I had received my $3,000 in funding, and he would be my advisor and mentor all summer.

The process was painstaking, but knowing that I put effort into finding an internship that was tailored to fit my work ethic, skills, and ambitions was completely worth it. I had no idea what research for a National Park would be like, but unlike my previous summer, I knew that I had put serious thought into my decision. And that made all the difference.

I understand on a visceral level the sense of accomplishment that this penguin feels.

(In my next post, I’ll talk about what made my time at Crater Lake so fun and fulfilling– and what I learned…stay tuned!)

I have always had to be self-driven in my quest to succeed in college. I’ve found it difficult to relate my college experience with those of my parents and community. My mom came from rural northern England, with a completely different university system and culture. My Dad went to a state school in a different era of higher education: his admission was essentially guaranteed, he experienced much less pressure to succeed, and his tuition cost $400 a semester. In addition, in my small town, most people went on to big state schools, or to the community college. I didn’t realize liberal arts colleges existed until I was a junior in high school.

As a result, my first year at Scripps was entirely bewildering. Normally, when I accumulate new experiences, I sort them into boxes in my head, relating them to past experiences, stories and advice from others, and prior knowledge. When I got to Scripps, I quickly realized that I needed to create a whole new box for my experiences navigating life at a liberal arts college. For instance, I didn’t understand what an internship was, or that students could do research along with faculty. I’d never heard of networking, and I didn’t realize that connections would matter just as much as grades in college. Most of all, I wasn’t used to a culture in which an appearance of constant success was normalized.

I also didn’t realize that there were a lot more people like me at Scripps than I realized. I knew there were resources out there to help confused students, but I didn’t make good use of them because I was proud, and wanted to figure it all out by myself.

Of course, some of these things I had to figure out through experience. But if I could go back in time to just after I arrived at Scripps and talk to my past self, I would have a few things to say:

1. Find– and use– the resources available to you. Find out who your Dean is. Go to them, and talk to them about some of your academic struggles. Make an appointment and ask your professors for advice- not just on how to solve that one problem set, but how to navigate the sciences when you come from a school in which sciences were underfunded. Ask them how to get research experience, and how early to go about doing that. Go to CP&R and ask what an internship is, how you can go about getting one, and how to figure out whether it’s the right one for you.

2. Apply for things even if you think your not qualified. Imposter syndrome is very real. Although other students may have a slight leg up, still go out and apply for the internships, research experiences, and leadership experiences they are applying for. You’re a lot more qualified than you think you are.

3. Break out of your old habits and be open to change. College is going to be very different from high school. The same study habits won’t necessarily work for you anymore, and if you find they are not working, don’t cling too hard to them. Try something else.

4. Try to learn from your peers. Don’t distance yourself from the people who appear to have “the hang of things.” Observe what they are doing, and try to emulate one or two things.

4. It’s going to get easier. The first year of college is messy for everyone, but it’s especially hard when coming from a culture with different values around class, work ethic, and education. Though you didn’t expect to experience culture shock less than 1,000 miles away from home, your experience is real. After a while, you’ll adjust to life in Claremont. Until then, don’t beat yourself up for feeling confused.