Facing the future: plunging into neuroscience head first

First and foremost, I firmly believe that high schools--and undergraduate college programs--should inspire students to not just be knowledgeable, but to also be intelligent, to have the capacity to reason, to arrive to conclusions, and to apply what we know. As human beings, we will need to be able to feel intellectually satisfied when we interact with other individuals. I know that I thoroughly enjoy conversing with others about topics ranging from the latest scientific discoveries, the little-known facts in history, the nuances of agglutinative languages (like my native Hungarian), any of Malcolm Gladwell's books, and a myriad of other interesting topics. Conversely, I dread feeling ignorant. I had a taste of being ignorant around others years ago in middle school when my lack of geographic knowledge became apparent. I was mortified after an embarrassing experience, and I quickly recognized that I value a broader sense of intelligence. I asked my parents if I could apply to a more academically challenging high school. In hindsight, it was the best decision we made. I was very fortunate to spend my high school years in an environment that challenged me and an environment that allowed me to challenge others.  At Iolani High School, I was at home.

This question of "intellectual energy versus technical knowledge" came up again in my junior year when I attended college fairs. One of the recruiters from an Ivy League school stressed that they are not looking for someone who has their hand in everything; they are looking for a "pointed" student who gets knee-deep, if not "lost," in their area of interest. I have never heard the term "pointed" before.  It took me some time to figure out what this recruiter described. 

If I was confused, it is because I very much value a broader basis for our intelligence. I believe in learning languages, even for scientists or historians, who seemingly do not have to lean on language skills. When I picked French for my high school language requirement, it was on the advice of my counselor who pointed out that to this day, French is the official language of the United Nations, and science papers are equally written in French and English. He could not be more right. During my research for my documentary film on Dag Hammarskjöld, I could only obtain the most critical books on the topic in French, published by the Rhodesian government. 

Based on my experiences, I came to believe that our competitiveness lies in interconnectivity. If I become a software programmer, for example, and I am tasked with building a program for a new museum on the Space Race, my vision will be exponentially more clear and astute if I have an adequate understanding of the topic. If I never visited museums—or never found fun in doing so—I will be at a disadvantage when trying to develop a portal for a museum. 

Similarly, if I become a primary care physician, I will need to understand that people coming from different socioeconomic strata will expect different bedside manners. The realities of available medical care options for the economically more depressed groups will be vastly different from a more affluent group as well. 

Ultimately, I found an even more urgent and pressing need to have more than one facet to my interest when I studied the Cold War. Andrei Sakharov (the inventor of the hydrogen bomb) and Robert Oppenheimer (the father of the atomic bomb) both faced a deep personal conflict when they contemplated the repercussions of their scientific discovery falling into the wrong hands. Without the most resolute moral obligation to each other, science can and will be the undoing of mankind. By learning from history, we ensure that we do not repeat the mistakes of the previous generations. 

I will work hard to become a highly skilled neuroscientist. But I will use my free time to "check back" with the humanities. 

In short: I do not consider myself being "all over the map" at all. Instead, I have a dual interest in science at the deepest level while I learned the value and necessity of applying science with humanity in mind. For the sake of our shared future, and for the sake of the legacy of Sakharov and Oppenheimer, I would not want to have one discipline without the other.

I was fortunate to have success at the national levels in both science/entrepreneurship and history.  Both my science- and my humanities teachers asked me to focus on only one of these areas exclusively.  While I appreciate going deep in research, getting lost in my subject, I feel very strongly about not being ignorant.  If I travel, I want to be able to communicate in a foreign language.  If I am invited to a dinner party, I want to be able to hold an intelligent and lively conversation.   I can only do that if I am well versed in the humanities, if I know basic geography and languages.  I want to be able to speak eloquently and compose polished written pieces.  At this point in my life, it is simply not enough to know one subject well.   I am looking to further my education at a university that values advances in science as much as it looks to nurture open-minded, conscientious students who are aware of their civic duty and role in society.

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With that said, I have always enjoyed getting lost in my favorite subject; I have always enjoyed scientific research for as long as I remember.  I took psychology, anthropology and biochemistry at the University of Hawaii in 9th grade to see if I enjoyed this field.  I loved it!  Over the years, I zeroed in on neuroscience.  My first influence was working for a year at Dr. Mercier's lab at the University of Hawaii, studying fractones.  Dr. Mercier discovered these novel structures in the brains of Alzheimer-afflicted mice.  I was hugely inspired by his research.  As a 13- or 14-year old kid, I was amazed to see that cutting edge science can be developed in my hometown. 

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After Dr. Mercier had to go back to France, when his visa expired, I missed being part of a research team. I missed the excitement of seeing those fractone structures in the brain slides of mice that I prepared with my research partner. We would spend days on end preparing slides for testing. I felt the same excitement when I was researching my Ditch Dat! headlice treatment. I had to be careful and patient setting up my oximeter testing or my sulfuric acid reagent testing. The slightest excess in my sulfuric acid ruined the chance to record the reaction between the acid and the carbon removed from the cutaneous wax of the louse exoskeleton. If I did not load enough of the acid with my pipette, I missed the interaction. Over the course of the year at Dr. Mercier's lab—and the years I spent researching my inventions—I had to learn to be superbly patient and steady handed. I am sure that this delayed gratification process is partly the reason behind enjoying the final end result. When our scientific test takes us to a new discovery, the moment of victory is incredibly gratifying. 

The road to neuroscience--especially neurosurgery--is a long and arduous one.  I will need to complete medical school, then, undergo a 7-8 year residency program.  The field of neuroscience requires a significantly longer commitment, for a number of a reasons.  This is an area of human physiology that is connected with every other organ and function of the human body.  While one can prepare to be a doctor in ophthalmology, dermatology, orthopedics or urology by focusing mainly on one area or function of the body, neurology transcends are entire body's operations.  I wonder if neurology appeals to me so much because I value interconnective intelligence. 

Since humanity lacked the resources to learn about neurology a hundred years ago, this is one of the youngest areas of practice.  Our knowledge base is changing rapidly, new studies, new discoveries and novel tools are arriving as we speak.  Working in the vanguard of scientific research must be the most rewarding place I can imagine. 

Only time will tell if I end up pursuing neuroscience research full-time, or if I go into neurosurgery.  Hopefully, I will have a chance to do both.  If I can bring mankind one step closer to understanding our human physiology or one step closer to treating a neurological condition, my life will not be in vain.  If I can pass my knowledge onto one other enthusiastic student, I will have kept the flame alive.