Cover Road:Cover - Teen Ink

Perfect Chemistry
by Sminu Bose, New City, NY
Ahigh-pitched squeal pierced my
eardrums. Of all places, I was in Fort
Detrick – 20 minutes from the nation’s
capital. Fragments of thought collided in my
mind as I stared at the light dancing on the
conical tube shaking in my hand. Is this a
terrorist attack? Definitely.
And then my mentor, the docile scientist
whom I had met two days before, began
laughing maniacally. Was this some kind of
joke? Could he really be behind it? He was
looking past his brand-new intern, who was on
the verge of hyperventilating, and staring at
the -20˚C freezer.
I was not at all relieved to
discover that my ears were
throbbing not from a terrorist
attack but because of the
freezer’s alarm. My mentor
had, in fact, been scheming as
I innocently gathered the necessary
enzymes to complete
the digestion reaction assigned
to me. It was my third day at
the National Cancer Institute (NCI) Cell and
Developmental Signaling Laboratory, and I
was completely focused on executing my
task perfectly. Little did I know that my 20 or
so expeditions to the freezer would induce
mechanized screaming. My mentor had been
waiting mischievously as the freezer’s temperature
rose to -7˚C. Ever since then, I have
been wary of that banshee freezer.
I found my first days as a Summer Cancer
Research Training Award Fellow filled with
many wild experiences. The first time I heard
about CERT protein, my head spun, but by the
end of the summer I had cloned it multiple
times and studied the protein-protein inter -
actions of its specific domains using S2 cell
models. This summer I did so many things
that I never could have imagined. I woke up
I loved this
world – a world
saturated with
science
many times fearing that it was all a dream. I
loved this new world that I was experiencing –
a world saturated with science.
Of course, I faced challenges during my
eight weeks at NCI. My second week, my
mentor announced that we would be dissecting
pregnant mice in our attempts to generate
a CERT knockout mouse. My pinky toe quivered
enthusiastically, as it usually does when I
am overexcited. In what looked like an ice
cream carton with holes was a swollen female
mouse with slick black fur. The pungent smell
of food pellets filled the lab. As my fingers
encroached into her space, her black-marble
eyes locked with mine. I immedi-
ately snatched my fingers back –
was it compassion, fear, regret?
My mentor motioned for me to
pick her up, and my hand slowly
descended into the box again. As
I lifted her by the tail, she struggled
fiercely, but I did not loosen
my grip. The hardest part was
dropping her into the CO2 box
and watching her chest heave as she took her
last breaths. It may have been silly, but I
prayed for that mouse. But as I was doing the
dissection and removed the linked chain of
embryos, I understood that in order to advance
science and save thousands of lives in the
future, sometimes sacrifices must be made.
Leaving the lab left me hungry for more
science. I still find my thumb in a pipetting
position and retain the ability to unscrew
bottles and tubes with my left hand. And I
sometimes wake up thinking that I was just
doing a dissection or an experiment until I
realize that it was a dream. In search of a
continued experience, I am already looking
for internship opportunities at research laboratories,
and I absolutely cannot wait to get back
to that environment! ✎
How I Became an “Old Man” by Hao Wu, Culver, IN
name and rank‚ sir.”
That was my most frequently used phrase
“Sir‚
during my first month in the United States at
the Culver Military Academy. I was a second-class man
(junior) but also a new cadet.
As a Chinese student who had never been to America
before, it was painstaking to memorize the names and ranks
of the “old men” (branch-qualified cadets).
“Sir, good morning, uh – uh – First Ser – Ser, uh,
Sergeant uh – Puc, uh, Puccia, sir.” It took me
forever to greet them in the hallway.
Feeling embarrassed, I wrote down the
names and ranks of all 47 “old men” in my unit
and sat on my bed for hours each day, reading
my list and whispering, “Lance Corporal
Turner, Color Corporal Weber ….”
“Tuck in your shirt! Don’t talk in the hallway!
Square your corners when you march!”
they would always bark at me.
Waking at 5:30 each morning, I put on my uniform,
shined my shoes, swept the floor, and made my bed so
there were absolutely no wrinkles. Then I stood outside my
room, waiting for inspection. That was the reality of my
career as a new cadet.
Because of my superior performance, I was the first
cadet invited to Boards, the rigorous testing and inspection
This was the
reality of my
career as a
new cadet
for a new cadet to become a branch-qualified “old man.”
The most important part of the process was the room
preparation, so I needed to thoroughly clean my room and
make sure every nook and cranny was spotless. I woke up
at 6 a.m. that Saturday and got to work. To eliminate the
dust bunnies hiding in the corners, I bought two bottles of
Lemon Pledge. I pulled out the drawers of my desk and
crawled underneath. Lying on my back, I sprayed and
wiped every inch of the desk, including the underside, the
drawer slides, and the legs. I did the same to my
wardrobe, bed, and lamp; I even polished my
room key.
The hardest part of the preparation was the
floor. Dragging, pulling, hauling, pushing, I
moved everything out of my room and into the
hallway. Piles of dust hidden for years lay where
my desk, bed, and wardrobe had stood.
After I had swept up the dust and mopped the
floor twice, I opened my second bottle of Pledge. On my
hands and knees, I polished the floor one section at a time.
By the time I had backed into the hallway, my shirt was
wet, my knees were numb, and sweat dripped down my
cheeks faster than I could wipe it away. But the floor shone,
almost too much. I soon realized how smooth, even slippery,
my floor was – I had cleaned it with furniture polish.
“Hey, what’s up, Wu?” a friend asked as he stepped into
The Jungle
by Amy Zheng, New York, NY
Istood in front of the classroom like a specimen under the
scrutiny of 23 pairs of eyes. The children were hunters on
high alert, ready to pounce on any mistake I made. I began
stuttering and gave wrong answers for simple math problems,
only to be instantly corrected by several smirking students.
The rest started murmuring in the background. Yes, they were
skillful hunters.
In the summer of 2008, I worked as an assistant teacher at a
children’s day camp. I struggled to create weekly lesson plans,
pulled apart kids who were clawing at each other, and taught
Chinese to students who were novices to the language. Amidst
their incessant chattering, the rare moments of silence came only
after the teacher’s booming calls for attention. The classroom
was a hectic sea of kids running around playing tag, shouting
insults at each other, and arguing about who should go first in a
game. Every day was a battle between
I had become
their terrified
subordinate
me and these wild little creatures.
What had I become? I was supposed
to teach them, and yet I had
become their terrified subordinate. I
had an epiphany one day and realized
it was time to do something about
this. I was older, more knowledge-
able, and most importantly, I had more authority. The next day,
I walked into the classroom and stood in the front firmly and
calmly. The students curiously studied me, but I did not flinch
or stutter. From that day on, they gradually started to pay attention.
Some even started calling me “Ms. Amy.”
Seeing a hint of respect in their wild eyes was like getting
recognition for my achievements. I was finally acting as an
authority figure, someone they could look up to. The respect I
received also marked a crescendo in my self-confidence. It
made me believe that I had the ability to overcome obstacles
and command respect. It was a confirmation of my skills and
abilities.
One month after my summer job ended, I went back to visit
the students. I saw the same hectic room full of kids running
around and shouting at each other. However, their playful insults
were a different kind of music to my ears now. Instead of
the cacophony I heard that first day, this was a unique harmony
– the song that played during my march to self-confidence and
belief in myself. ✎
COLLEGE CONNECTION • APRIL ’09 • Teen Ink
college essays
my room. “When are you– aagh!” His feet flew out and
he fell flat on his back. I can hardly remember how many
other boys fell. In a while, my room was filled with cadets
in socks spinning like ice skaters.
I lay on my back in the hallway outside my room. “One‚
two‚ three … Go!” Jason pushed my feet and I glided into
the room, staring up as the ceiling sped by. Wham! My
head slammed into the heater.
Back to work, I shined my shoes until I could see my
teeth in them. I folded shirts for five hours, kneeling on the
floor with a steel straight-edge: “No, it’s still not exactly 8
by 10 inches.” I folded them, unfolded them, folded them
again.
I spent 17 hours cleaning my room. I passed Boards.
I keep two empty bottles of Pledge and a steel straightedge
on my desk to remind me of that day. When I face
huge academic and emotional pressures, the sight of the
bottles keeps me motivated; when I feel contented and
sated, I turn to the steel straight-edge, which inspires me to
seek perfection. I bring this motivation and perfectionism
with me as a member of Squadron Staff, supervising 138
cadets, leading my unit to be the best in the regiment, and
getting straight A’s.
I keep two empty bottles of Pledge and a steel straightedge
in my room to remind me that I can accomplish great
feats. ✎
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