Growth & Gratitude

This was my first paper published during my undergraduate studies. As a co-first author, I was fortunate to work closely with Prof. Cheng and to be deeply involved in data collection and analysis, writing, and revision under his guidance.

I still remember being in my third year of university, trying to work out which path I wanted to take in the future. My reason for approaching my supervisor about research was simple: “I want to find out what doing research is like, whether I am suited to it, and whether I enjoy it.”

My answer now is: “I enjoy it—about 80%. Whether I am suited to it is a question I still cannot answer with certainty.”

Much of that early affection for research grew from the careful, patient guidance I received when I was only beginning to find my way into it. Prof. Cheng guided me almost step by step, explaining what we needed to do next and why a particular study should be designed in a certain way.

I also remember writing an Introduction for the first time. It was during the May Day holiday. I drafted an outline, and my supervisor talked it through with me on a voice call, helping me adjust the logic of the argument. After I finished, he encouraged me: “For a first attempt, this is already very good!” I felt encouraged.

Throughout the revisions to the initial draft, opening a Word document full of red tracked changes often brought two feelings at once. I was deeply touched by his conscientious guidance, but I also felt a little ashamed or guilty. I wanted to do better—to strengthen my abilities and lighten the burden on my supervisor.

One moment has stayed with me. We submitted the paper during the summer after my third year, just as I was preparing for recommendation-based postgraduate admissions. I was anxiously reviewing core subjects, practicing spoken English, and attending university interviews. Soon after submission, the journal flagged the manuscript for a high similarity score, largely because of unavoidable overlap in the Methods section. I revised the wording several times, but the score returned by the journal’s system still did not fall, so I turned to my supervisor for help.

He said he would try working on it himself and told me to focus on my own preparations while he took care of it. I was very moved by that—perhaps especially because of the situation I was in at the time. His example has quietly shaped the kind of collaborator I hope to become. In future projects, when a collaborator is too busy to manage everything, I want to step forward, share the work, and help carry it through.

We also saw how much he contributed during the later revise-and-resubmit process. Having him there gave me a strong sense of security: I knew there was someone I could rely on when things became difficult. That support did not mean I could be careless. Precisely because I had been supported so thoughtfully, I wanted even more to become capable in my own right—to grow from someone who needs others’ support into a scholar who can take responsibility for a research project independently and offer support to collaborators as well.

By now, you may be wondering why I have spent so much space praising my supervisor. My answer is simply that he deserves it! I often feel extraordinarily lucky. I do not think our abilities are necessarily all that different. Having the good fortune to meet a mentor willing to guide me is a large part of why my research journey seemed to move a little “faster” during my undergraduate years.

I am also deeply grateful to the friends who let me “recruit” them into trying research together as undergraduates. Our story began in the first semester of our third year. I wanted to see how research actually worked, so I persuaded you to give it a try with me. We discussed all kinds of research ideas—some so scattered, and even a little “silly” in hindsight.

Many of those ideas never became actual studies. Still, the hours we spent searching the literature, discussing questions, and repeatedly starting over were how we first began to approach research.

Five or ten years from now, we may not all be pursuing academic careers. We may be working in entirely different industries and living in different cities. But I believe each of us will contribute in our own way, find our own paths, and become who we truly want to be.