Category: Academia

By Junaid Rasool

When I first started looking for labs, I never imagined I would end up in a psychology lab. 

As a traditional neuroscience student, my sights were set on bench research: injecting mice, pipetting chemicals, and reading DNA gel electrophoresis. My biology and chemistry classes prepared me for this, and I was excited to finally contribute to science. I interviewed at a neuroscience lab studying pain, a field directly related to medicine. I nailed the interview by leveraging the knowledge from my classes, secured the position, and was set to start during the summer before my junior year. Everything seemed perfect.

I was too focused on what I thought medical schools wanted … I’ve learned the value of stepping out of my comfort zone and embracing new experiences.

Junaid Rasool

But life had other plans. My mom unexpectedly needed eye surgery, so I returned to Austin, TX, to care for her. By the time I came back to UTD in the fall, my position in the lab had been filled. I was back to square one. As I searched for new opportunities, this psychology lab reached out to me. Initially, I had doubts. I didn’t see how this would align with my professional goals, but I decided to give it a try.

My journey with the lab began with guiding participants through experiments, attending lab meetings, and writing protocols. I also got hands-on experience using psychophysiological equipment— eye trackers for measuring visual attention, and electrodes for measuring skin conductance and heart rate. However, I still wasn’t entirely sure how this research fit into my career goals. It seemed far removed from the traditional pre-med path I had envisioned.

I decided to do an honors thesis to gain additional responsibility, hoping to find more clarity and purpose. The learning curve was steep, and I often questioned how these tasks would benefit me in the long run. However, I eventually got the hang of things and became more comfortable with the research process. I even learned to code in R and Python, gaining transferable data analysis skills that will benefit any type of research and give me a leg up in medical school and beyond.

I found I was too focused on what I thought medical schools wanted: publications, wet lab research, and in-depth molecular studies. While these are important, I’ve learned the value of stepping out of my comfort zone and embracing new experiences. When I got the chance to lead my own project, I took it, even though I didn’t know the experimental software or how to code. Thankfully, a PhD student named Galston and my mentor, Israel, stepped in to help. They both took time out of their day to walk me through the code and software, explaining everything clearly and making sure I understood. I believe the best way to learn is by jumping in, and their support equipped me to tackle the project confidently.

One of the most rewarding aspects of the Aging Well Lab is the supportive and collaborative culture. In the competitive world of pre-meds, it’s rare to find such a welcoming group of people. I’ve made friends and found mentors who genuinely want to help each other succeed. This positive environment has been a breath of fresh air.

Junaid presenting his poster about the impact of political group membership and perceived threat on trust at the Undergraduate Research Scholar Awards (URSA) poster presentation in April 2024.

My research exploring human behavior and decision-making has illuminated the intersection of politics and trust, and I see application for this in healthcare. For instance, healthcare areas such as vaccination campaigns, pandemic response, gun violence, and reproductive health have become increasingly politicized and surrounded by misinformation. As a future physician, I plan to use my research insights to collaborate with trusted figures across the political spectrum to disseminate accurate medical information. By doing this, I hope to bridge political divides, enhance public health communications, and improve patient outcomes. 

Additionally, one of my current projects delves into how people weigh risks and benefits in effort expenditure when faced with uncertain information. This research is essential for informing future pandemic responses, as evidenced by behaviors observed during the COVID-19 pandemic such as mask-wearing, vaccination acceptance, and adherence to social distancing guidelines. By understanding these decision-making processes, I aim to develop strategies that promote safer behaviors and improve public health outcomes. Overall, the research I’ve done in this lab has inspired me to pursue a future in health policy alongside my medical career, helping to clarify my goals in medicine.

My experience in the Aging Well Lab broadened my perspective on healthcare, equipped me with valuable skills, and connected me with an amazing community. If you’re a pre-med student, I encourage you to explore opportunities you might not have considered. You never know where they might lead.

Five years ago, I had a good thing going – an established career with steady income, regular hours, no major debt, and plenty of free time to hang out with friends. But it felt like something was missing; I was unfulfilled at the end of my days. After 14 years with one company, it was time for a change. The question was, do I stay in my field or turn my life upside down?

I knew at the ripe old age of 14 that I wanted to be a journalist, connecting people to information. My plan was etched, and I worked diligently toward that goal. Along the way, friends told me I should have gone into biology, but I thought they were joking. There’s no way I was smart enough to go into the sciences. 

In my mid-thirties, I discovered “edutainment.” I almost exclusively watched shows investigating life, like Blue Planet, Veritasium, Brain Games, The Nine Months that Made You, Cosmos, etc. I widened my reading material to include scientific articles and books. So, when my husband said, “You should have gone into biology,” my curiosity was piqued. Maybe I should give this biology thing a try.

At 37, I enrolled in chemistry at a community college. My class was at night, and my classmates were mostly working adults like myself, trying to better their lives. I felt a kindred connection with these students; we were all searching for something more.

My next group of classes were in the morning, with more “traditional” college students. I felt out of place in a room teeming with youth. In one class, we worked in groups; I was partnered with a 17- and 18-year-old. During a lull in lecture, my group members were looking at their phones. I asked if they were reading the news, and they looked at me like I was crazy. No, they were watching videos of people flipping their shoes. I’ve never felt so old and removed.

But I ventured forth, transferring to UT Dallas to continue my degree, managing to find the one or two older classmates with whom I had more in common but still feeling very alone. Four-year universities are designed with the full-time student in mind. As a working adult, I struggled to fit education, work, and life into a manageable ball of frenzy. 

At the same time, I changed jobs and began working at a pathology lab. I went from an assistant newsroom supervisor with all the answers and autonomy to a part-time newbie in an industry I knew nothing about and zero authority. I was supremely vulnerable, and I hated it. I didn’t know how to not be in charge; I didn’t even know I liked being in charge until I had given it up. I also discovered I didn’t know how to learn and give myself grace when embarking on a challenge. Yes, taking classes at the community college was new, but I had the steady familiarity of my job. Then, there I was, at 39, restarting my journey from scratch.

Like an ogre laying siege, in walked imposter syndrome. I wasn’t a “real” student or scientist, and one day everyone was going to find out I’m from the liberal arts, playing dress up in a lab coat and scrubs. I didn’t look or behave like my classmates, and I’m pretty sure I was older than a few of my professors. I was married, with a mortgage, and more than a decade of the corporate world under my belt. I didn’t understand my classmates who whined about not getting extensions on assignments or who asked questions about topics easily found in the syllabus. In a lecture hall of 300, I was the ancient sea turtle flapping through the current, trying to find my way.

When I did poorly in class, I berated myself – I should have stayed in my lane. Why did I think I could do this? I was right all those years ago; I’m not smart enough to be in the sciences. Friends and family patiently listened to my bemoans, but it was their awe in my struggle that kept me going. Plus, I’m stubborn. Getting through my classes was like scaling a climbing wall. I purposefully planned my path – read the textbook, read the lecture slides, go to class, take handwritten notes, reread the lecture slides, and meticulously fill out a study guide. The last-minute and late-night cramming sessions of my youth were no good to me. Structure and scheduling became my recipe for success. It also eased my anxieties to see fellow classmates struggle. I wasn’t dumb; this material was difficult.

When I landed at the Aging Well Lab, I felt grounded. I joined a handful of other nontraditional students, past and present, who could understand my feelings of wanting more. Here, I am not lost, not a misfit; instead, I bring experience and diversity, a background rich in different thought processes and methods. I can be a scientist and a journalist, a bridge to the world outside of academia. This makes me an asset, not someone going through a very expensive mid-life crisis. It’s hard to play the role of imposter when the aspects I’m trying to hide are the very things desired and appreciated.