"Thesis bootcamp." Ever since I first heard it, the phrase frightened me. I imagined some sort of drill sergeant in charge of a room full of cowering seniors, shouting orders for them to "Close out of Facebook!" and "Finally write that opening sentence!"

I avoided the fall break bootcamp. I stayed clear of the fall semester weekend bootcamp, too. It wasn't until intersession—our break that falls between the conclusion of finals and the start of second semester—that I finally volunteered myself for thesis bootcamp. With dozens of my classmates, I struggled to Butler dining hall at 9 a.m. through lunchtime on Monday through Friday to work on the draft I probably should have started weeks ago, and I discovered a shocking thing—thesis bootcamp really isn't so terrible, after all. In fact, it was kind of nice. Here are the reasons why: 

• The coffee - I'll admit that I am an addict; it takes me at least one or two cups to wake up in the morning. With tons of Starbucks to look forward to, getting out of bed early didn't seem so bad after all. 
• The snacks - Finding food during intersession normally means venturing out into the cold and snow of late January, but at thesis bootcamp the food is delivered right to you! Life couldn't get much better. But even this couldn't top... 
• The camaraderie - This is what thesis bootcamp is truly about. There's nothing like sitting down with your friends in a room full of focused, hard-working classmates to get you motivated. Princeton can feel overwhelming and impossible at times (and being asked to write what is essentially a short book has been one of my hardest assignments yet!), and having the support of everyone else who is going through the same journey can be so important. Even the act of just sitting and working together can be enough to make everything feel a little better. It was great to make progress with my friends; it was so wonderful to congratulate them on their successes and to feel they were there for me on mine. 

With the support of my friends, a lot more coffee, a final spring break bootcamp, I will get my thesis done. 

 

Last spring semester, I attended an information session put on by Princeton’s Fellowship Advising about the Rhodes Scholarship. The session described Oxford as a good place for postgraduate study, the Rhodes as a good and prestigious way of supporting that study, and urged attendees not to underestimate their chances of winning. A lab near Oxford is home to some exciting fusion research, so I thought the fellowship might be a good fit for me, and decided to apply.

In early November, I received an email telling me that I had been selected as one of 12 finalists in the Boston region for the scholarship and inviting me to a dinner with the other finalists and the Rhodes committee members on a Friday night, followed by a Saturday interview, after which the winners would be announced. I was thrilled to be invited, and immediately began preparing for the interview and travel to Boston. The Rhodes Trust does not arrange or reimburse travel to the interview, which I found frustrating (last-minute transportation to Boston, plus two nights of accommodations at a hotel close enough to the interview site to arrive at 8 a.m. on Saturday without getting up ridiculously early, plus two sets of business formal clothes for the dinner and interview equal around $700 for a one-sixth chance at the scholarship). However, when I met the other candidates, I realized it could have been a lot worse; at least two of them had flown in from Africa specifically for the interview.

The dinner and the interviews took place at the Beacon Hill mansion of Bruns Grayson, a venture capitalist who is the secretary of the Boston Rhodes committee. Since I was unfamiliar with the neighborhood, I arrived about half an hour early, and waited about 20 minutes in the cold before finally going in. I was still the first to arrive, and was the first to meet the committee members who would interview me the next day. I developed a reputation for being early, which my friends know does not typically describe me.

I wasn’t sure how to behave during the dinner; it isn’t often that I have to eat food with people who are directly competing with me and people who are assessing me. So I set my expectations low: I decided to try not to spill any food. Unfortunately, I failed there, dropping a piece of asparagus that was nearly eaten by the Graysons’ dog. At the dinner, we drew slips of paper to select interview times for the next morning. I was unsuccessful there as well, selecting the earliest interview time, 8 a.m. 

I arrived around 7:40 the next morning, and after a short period of nervous waiting, Bruns Grayson led me to the interview room. About half my questions were relatively easy queries about my background (“Can you give us an overview of fusion research as a whole as you see it?”; “What makes you a good physicist?”; “Can you describe what your role in your co-op is?”) and half were weird philosophical physics questions (“Do you think God rolls dice?”; “Does the field of physics as a whole evolve towards a central goal, or on an ad-hoc basis?”; “Define beauty in physics and in Latin American Studies, then compare the two.”). I am earning a certificate, by the way, in Latin American Studies.

Before the interview, I had been worried about getting quiz-like questions that I couldn’t answer (something like “Who is the American ambassador to Argentina?”), and since I was able to answer all of my interview questions without hesitation, I felt good immediately afterwards. In retrospect, however, I’m not sure what the committee wanted from many of its questions, and thus how well I did; I, for one, have no idea if God rolls dice. Albert Einstein, who was not a believer in the inherent disorder of the universe predicted by quantum mechanics, once famously answered this question in the negative.

After the interviews, all the candidates waited together in the basement of Bruns Grayson’s house while the committee deliberated. This time was in fact one of the most interesting parts of the entire experience, because it revealed the different ways that people deal with stress. Some of the candidates sat alone, others nervously chatted over an Apples to Apples game, and one in particular told a lot of jokes. I was especially grateful for this last candidate, since he helped us all feel more at ease.

After a few hours of increasingly antsy waiting, Bruns Grayson came down to the basement and took us all upstairs, where the committee members named the winners. Those who had lost shook hands with the committee, then exited the house at remarkable speed. I had barely gotten my coat when I realized everyone was already gone.

I was disappointed after learning the committee didn’t select me, in part because of the unique opportunities that the fellowship would have offered me, and in part because of the effort I put into writing my essay, arranging the eight (!) recommendations Princeton’s Fellowship Advising suggests you should get, and preparing for the interview, especially at a time when I could have worked on my thesis or my graduate school applications.

Some people say that the most valuable part of the fellowship application process is what you learn about yourself while writing your essay and coordinating with recommenders, but I don’t think I learned much while I was preparing my application. So I was initially left feeling that I’d put in a lot of work and money for absolutely nothing.

I have been surprised, however, by the many things I have learned (or been reminded of) by losing. One is how random applications like this one can be, a lesson that is perhaps useful for those who are waiting to hear about their college admission applications. I didn’t feel like the committee members knew me well when they made their decision, and I didn’t see a clear reason why they picked the two winners over the many other talented candidates I had met. Who knows what they were looking for in our applications, and what they noticed. 

Other lessons are more personal. In the past few months, I have realized I became too wrapped up in the excitement and prestige of winning the fellowship, and neglected to adequately consider and prepare for the intriguing possibilities available in the United States. I’m now looking forward to deepening my command of physics in graduate school and refocusing myself on science—I think I can actually have a more beneficial and productive experience without the additional networking and dinners that the Rhodes might have entailed. And I have still applied to Oxford as a normal graduate student, so there is still a chance I will get the exposure to UK fusion research that in part inspired me to apply.

Last Tuesday, I turned in my Junior Paper (colloquially known as a JP)—a semester’s worth of work compiled into a 24-page document. You’d think after I pressed submit that all the weight would be lifted off of my shoulders, that I could finally breathe easily. Sadly, that was not the case, because exactly one week later I had final papers due for two of my other classes. With Dean’s Date (the day papers are due and consequently an unofficial Princeton holiday) squarely behind me, now must surely be time to relax. Alas, it isn’t, because final exams are just around the corner!

If you’re anywhere near as confused as I was my freshman year, I'll explain:

Our unusual schedule is my favorite least favorite thing about Princeton… or my least favorite favorite thing about Princeton. Nearly three years in, I haven’t completely decided, so let’s just say the schedule and I have a love/hate relationship. Essentially, in lieu of having finals in December, they take place in January after a three-week winter “break.” The first three weeks of January are then devoted to studying for tests, writing papers and submitting final projects, with the ultimate reward being a week-long Intersession break for the last week of the month. The spring semester then begins the day after the Super Bowl.

I’m not going to expound on the joys and pains of our innovative schedule, a topic frequently discussed around campus at this time. Briefly though, the pros are these: less stress as classes wrap up, more time to prepare (read: procrastinate) for finals, an extra break in January. The cons are: stress during the holidays, guilt over not studying during the holidays, stress over your guilt over the source of your stress. And here's what I generally take away from reading period:

1. The struggle is real. Everyone says it, and they are not wrong.  In the same vein… 
2. Motivation is hard to come by. Even with gems like this posted all over campus (that’s not even the best of it), it’s hard to motivate yourself to stay off Facebook—or Netflix or Hulu or Instagram—and be productive when there’s no definite structure to your day. Sleep and movies sound nice. Studying for tests and writing papers, not so much.  With that said…
3. You are capable of more than you think. When all the dust of reading period settles, I’m always amazed at and frankly kind of impressed with myself. Not because I absolutely nailed reading period or made it through in particularly spectacular fashion, but because it’s easy to underestimate my ability to get things done. More often than not, I become the biggest obstacle to my own productivity by making a mountain out of a slightly smaller mountain of a task. Ultimately though, reading period ends and I can reward myself with a pat on the back and a very long slumber—and Netflix and Hulu and Instagram.

Now, is this feeling of accomplishment worth a cloud hanging over my three weeks of “holiday” or even a stress-free Super Bowl Sunday? Right now, I’d say “Not so much.” But if you ask me again after finals, while I'm snuggled up in the blanket from this year's Dean's Date giveaway, it'll probably be a different story. 

A few weeks ago, I was a part of a Google Hangout hosted by the Office of Admission (video available, if you’re interested). Because of time constraints, we could only get through about 20 of the top questions. As I scrolled through the questions we missed afterward, I noticed a number of them had to do with being pre-med at Princeton. What does it mean to be pre-med at Princeton? What is it like? These are great questions, and ones that I definitely had when I was considering Princeton, too. 

I thought as a way to answer these and give you a sense of the experience, I would give you my quick list of 10 Tips for Being Pre-med at Princeton - basically just advice that I have after going through it myself and watching friends go through it. So, here it is! 

 

10 Tips for Being Premed at Princeton

Disclaimer: It isn’t easy, but with determination you can do it and do it well. 

1. Utilize the Office of Health Professions Advising - This will be your #1 resource on campus, from freshman year right up until the day you matriculate at medical school. Be familiar with their website and their materials. Actually read “Preparing for a Career in the Health Professions” before you arrive on campus. I didn't read it until about halfway through freshman year, and I wish I had read it sooner! Thankfully I had good friends who, like me, were premed but who, unlike me, were not procrastinators, and they gave me most of the information I needed to know. (Incidentally, "Preparing for a Career in the Health Professions" is also a good publication to read for anyone who's trying to get a sense of what being premed entails at Princeton.) Finally, when you do arrive on campus, get to know the HPA Advisers. Kate and Allison are super friendly people, and the better they know you the better they will be at helping you make decisions, and the better able they will be to write a Committee Letter for you when the time comes for you to apply. 
2. Plan ahead, and plan carefully - As a premed, you’ll have a list of around 13 classes you’ll need to take in order to apply to most medical schools. These include two semesters of general chemistry, two semesters of organic chemistry, two semesters of general biology, two semesters of general physics, two semesters of math, two semesters of English, and biochemistry, at a minimum. With the introduction of the new MCAT, a psychology course or two is also not a bad idea. Since the average student takes 4-5 courses a semester, these classes end up taking up a decent amount of your time. If you want to major in something completely outside of the sciences with a relatively high course load—say, English or Woody Woo—or if you want to get a certificate or two (Princeton-speak for minor), you're going to end up with about 28 or so classes that you'll need to take as a premed requirement or major requirement, with little or no overlap. When you also consider that most bachelor of arts students take only 31 courses, it's easy to see that you'll want to do some careful planning early on. 
3. Study what you love - There is no “premed” major at Princeton as some institutions have; there is also no set major that premeds are encouraged to enter. Indeed, the advice I have always heard —and would definitely echo—is to major in whatever catches your interest. So long as you successfully complete your premed coursework, you will be equally likely to gain admittance. So do what you love! It will make your time at Princeton much more enjoyable. 
4. Make sure it’s what you want to do - In my opinion, this is one of the most important parts of all those extracurricular clinical experiences and summer internships you’ll pursue. If you can, get a chance to work with patients or in a clinical setting. See if you like it. It’s much better to find out now if medicine really isn’t your thing; and if you find that you really love these types of experiences, they’ll serve as great motivation for your toughest moments.
5. Get involved - Extracurriculars are important, but don't worry too much about being involved in the "right ones." Get involved in activities that you find meaningful—they'll enrich your Princeton experience in so many ways. If you can, it's good to make sure you have at least one clinical experience, for the reasons I mentioned in above in #4. You'll learn a lot about yourself, and hopefully do some good along the way.
6. Have a good support system - There will be times when you struggle. There are the everyday premed struggles of impossible problem sets and unsavory schedules (I can't tell you the number of times I have heard "Why is biochem on Fridays? I swear I am THE ONLY upperclassman still stuck in Friday classes"). And then there are the harder times, times when you truly question whether being premed is what you want, whether it's right for you and whether it's worthwhile for you. A good support system is important for all of these struggles. In my experience, family, friends and mentors have been essential for helping me work through both the everyday and larger struggles of being premed.  
7. Make friends with your classmates and form study groups - Along those lines, it can be super helpful to work with people on problem sets and assignments (so long as your professor allows it, and you are working within the Honor Code). Study groups are great not only for letting you compare answers or work through problems together, but also for keeping due dates and assignments in order. Even if study groups aren't your thing, I'm of the opinion that having friends in your class or lab section makes the experience much, much more enjoyable. 
8. Sleep - This one applies to all Princeton students, really. I know we read studies all the time about how important sleep is for learning, being healthy and being happy, but when things get busy sleep is usually the first thing to go. Seriously, though, sleep is important.  
9. Remember it's a marathon, not a sprint - To follow up with my point above, I just wanted to give some advice that my freshman-year Residential College Adviser always gave. She was constantly reminding us that "Princeton is a marathon, not a sprint." Sometimes it can feel like you need to be giving 100 percent all the time—that you need to be getting straight A's in six classes and be president of 15 different clubs and participate in a sport. But this is hardly sustainable. It's important to take breaks, to sleep, to see friends, to watch bad TV or go for a run or do whatever re-energizes you. So as you go down the premed track, remember it's a marathon, not a sprint. Find a happy balance between premed and everything else in life, and you'll have a much happier four years at Princeton and be better off in the end. 
10. Remind yourself why you came to Princeton and what you want to get out of it - For me, I chose to follow the more traditional pathway of four years at an undergraduate institution followed by four years at medical school over a combined undergraduate/M.D. program because I wanted to have the flexibility and time to explore other interests during my undergrad years. I chose to come to Princeton 1) because of its undergraduate focus and 2) because I had a variety of interests coming in and Princeton offered excellent programs for every single one of those. For me, reminding myself of why I came to Princeton always grounded me a bit. It helped me to manage the stress of school, or the guilt of questioning whether I wanted to be premed. I reminded myself that I had come to Princeton because I wanted to explore many things; if I found that I didn't like one of them, well, then, I had learned something about myself and there were other things to explore. On the flip side of this, there were also times when I had to remind myself: I came to Princeton for the academics; I came to Princeton because I wanted to be prepared for a career "in the Nation's Service and in the Service of All Nations." This helped me prioritize. There were activities that I gave up and jobs that I turned down because of this, but in the end I am glad that I stayed true to what means the most to me.  

 

 

As a sophomore, one of the main questions facing me is which academic department I will enter as an upperclassman. Every Princeton undergraduate enters one of the 34 academic departments, almost like choosing a major in most other American colleges. The departments I am considering are physics and mathematics. The choice of a department is very significant for every Princeton student as it determines independent work and courses.

One of the main reasons I am considering physics is my experience working in CERN (The European Organization for Nuclear Research) in Geneva the past summer. I was working for Prof. Daniel Marlow in Princeton's physics department, and I was advised by David Stickland, a senior researcher at Princeton working on the Large Hadron Collider at CERN. It was a hugely enticing exposure for me to the field of high energy physics (the physics dealing with extremely high energies and extremely tiny particles), and I have been considering studying physics ever since.

Princeton has a large team at CERN working in many different aspects of the experiment. I was part of a team working on the Compact Muon Solenoid Experiment (CMS) in the Large Hadron Collider (LHC). In the LHC, scientists use extremely powerful instruments to accelerate beams of protons to near-light speeds and collide them at extremely high energies. This enables scientists to study physical phenomena only possible at such high velocities. In the CMS experiment, scientists use large muon chambers to trace the paths of elementary particles, like the Higg's Boson, which was discovered at CERN in 2012 (and which earned Peter Higgs the Nobel Prize the same year).

I was working on developing software tools to help monitor the amount of radiation generated by the collider. The high velocities of protons generate harmful radiation in the LHC tunnels, and work cannot continue on the LHC if there are harmful levels of radiation; thus the levels of radiation must be closely monitored. The software I helped build also tells us the number of collisions per second, a very vital piece of information. The team I worked with recently sent me pictures of my software in usage, and I could see directly how the tools I built were being used in the operation of the LHC.

As exciting and important as my work was, I also attended daily lectures by physicists from universities around the world on a myriad of different fields in physics and computer science. I looked forward to these lectures every morning, and they convinced me that I want to study and understand physical phenomenon better.

I was also able to visit some really amazing experiment sites at CERN, including the four big collision sites where the protons are made to collide, and several smaller experiment sites such as one studying nuclear interactions, one studying antimatter (yes, antimatter), and a linear collider (in contrast to the large circular collider of LHC).

I met lots of awesome people, especially students from around the world, and was able to travel, including a weekend trip to the French Riviera with students I met at CERN. Working at CERN was an amazing experience, and capped off the most perfect summer I could imagine!

At 185 Nassau St. stands an old elementary school. At first glance, it is mysterious. If you walk by at night—10 p.m., midnight, or even 3 a.m.—you'll see the lights are always on. Maybe you'll get a glimpse of a mysterious shadow through a 2nd floor window, or maybe you'll see lights flicker from the 4th floor attic. You'll hear weird sounds, too—the sound of an electric saw, maybe a pounding, vibrating beat. 

This building is the Lewis Center for the Arts, and home to many programs, including the Program in Visual Arts, also known as VIS, or as I like to put it, Princeton's best kept secret. Students enrolled in the Certificate and Program 2 are not only able to take studio courses, but are given their own individual studio spaces, funding for materials and individual advisers. In return, we get to make whatever we want to. It's a pretty good deal.

As a result, I've spent a good amount of time in my studio at 185. As I shape my senior thesis, a solo exhibition, it's become my second home. The building features: 

• a film theater 
• an acting studio
• multiple dance studios
• a ceramics studio
• a darkroom
• painting and drawing studios
• a sculpture shop
• digital studios (for film, photography and graphic design)
• a typography studio/printing press
• a printmaking studio

And, most important:

• Student visual arts studios

I'm constantly amazed by all of the work that my peers are doing. Our studios are spaces where we are free to explore and create whatever we want. We are able to paint, manipulate, tack things onto the floors and walls. They become our sanctuaries and the places where we make sense of the issues we are thinking about, and the questions we are asking. And accordingly, they are deeply personal, incredibly inspiring and sometimes bizarre spaces. And so, to give you all a glimpse into our lives, I decided to ask my peers for photos of their studios. Specifically, I told them to "send me something weird." Interpret as you will.

Jaime Ding '16

Amalya Megerman '16

Ben Denzer '15

You can find part of his senior thesis here. 

Louisa Wills '16

Me (Wendy Li '15)

Oh Disney, what tales you spun! Where I live, animals do not rest in my lap or gather round affectionately. The Princeton deer are flighty, raccoons gluttonous, cats indifferent, squirrels deranged, and not even singing to them can help. If I were Snow White, I would choose somewhere far, far away to make my woodland home.

When I applied to college, I knew I loved physics, but I didn't know much about what being a physics major entailed. So that you are more informed, I've created a summary of the physics classes I've taken here so far.

Thursday afternoon. It was a beautiful day here at Princeton University. The leaves were changing color, the air was just breezy enough for a light jacket and there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. And there I was—huddled under dim fluorescent lights in a corner of Firestone Library, two floors underground, surrounded by stacks and stacks of books. I had finally met a fate I was dreading for three years. I was writing my thesis.

The senior thesis is a cherished (or dreaded) Princeton tradition, as previous blog posts have discussed. In my senior thesis, I’m researching how economic reforms have affected the lives and occupations of women in rural China. I chose this topic because I’m interested in how women are affected, both positively and negatively, by economic development, but also because of my own background. My father grew up in a remote village in rural China, and in the past 30 years a lot has changed. Populations have shifted. Farmland has turned into factories. Roads have been built. I go back once in a while to visit my family. My grandmother still lives on the same plot of land, while China transforms around her.

Friday afternoon. Another beautiful day. My parents were visiting campus with my grandmother, who had just arrived in the United States for the first time. As a tour guide, I’ve introduced Princeton University to visitors from around the world, from all walks of life. Yet that Friday, I was at a loss as to how I would introduce my grandmother to my Princeton life. It seemed absurd to explain having unlimited meal plans to a woman who had lived through famines, or living in Gothic castles to someone who had literally built her own house out of stone and straw.

We strolled around campus. I was proud to show my grandmother the place I call home. I pointed toward my dorm, and I showed her where I had my classes. I tried to explain some of Princeton’s history to her. I joked about the squirrels hiding in piles of leaves. She was quiet. I wasn’t sure if things were getting lost in translation, or if the institution itself confused her. And then she said something I won’t ever forget: “I’m an illiterate woman from the countryside, and I’m visiting my granddaughter at the best school in the United States.”

Something clicked for me in that moment. Just a day before, I was angsting about my research, intimidated by the blank Word document on my screen, and getting caught up on the smallest, most obscure points. But then, hearing my grandmother, everything seemed to converge. I realized something I think I had always known subconsciously: My thesis isn’t just an academic interest. It isn’t just a natural progression of the classes I’ve taken at Princeton. My thesis is a product of my own self, where the personal meets the political. When I picked my topic, I knew I wasn't just going to write about some abstract women in a country on the other side of the world, but rather I would be writing about my grandmother, my aunts and my cousins. I wanted to learn about my roots. As an immigrant growing up in the United States, I wanted to feel closer to a family history and a culture that had previously felt so far away.

I still think about what my grandmother said, every day. That revelation hasn’t resolved any of the challenges I’ve been facing in my thesis. I still have blank Word pages to fill, I still have reading to do and I still don't understand all of those econometric models, yet somehow, it doesn’t seem so dreadful anymore. Even though I'm still nervous about writing 100 pages, I know that everything I've learned these past three years, everything I've lived in the past 21 years and everything my family has been working for over the decades will inform all of it. I know there will be plenty of challenges ahead, but now,  it's more than just another grade on my transcript. This time, it's personal.