2012 Hopkins Medicine Graduation Student Speaker
Cheryl Koh, Ph.D.
May 24, 2012
Good afternoon faculty, family, friends, and fellow graduates,
When I started grad school, the path to a PhD seemed straightforward enough: First year classes, qualifying exams, doing some research, and publishing said research in a journal of my choice, with
minimal grief from the reviewers. Then, I would spend 3 months writing my thesis somewhere in the mountains, with snow falling softly outside my window, and a cup of hot tea in hand.
But, in grad school, things are seldom that certain. For starters, experiments rarely work on the first try. If an experiment does work on the first try, it’s probably never going to work again. When you need to re-run a critical experiment the night before your thesis committee meeting, you’re probably going to run out of your precious sample, or reagents, or more likely, both. When you analyze your data, the trends you think you observe are never quite statistically significant. If they are, you
might have applied the wrong test. When you need to clone a construct for the “last experiment
that one reviewer asked for,” your primers aren’t going to work, even if you’ve redesigned them 27 times. And there’s ALWAYS that one reviewer. Always.
Just because you’ve tried really hard, and for a really long time, doesn’t mean that you’re going to get the results you anticipated. Research is difficult, often frustrating. But perhaps such is the scientific process. After all, experiments are designed to test hypotheses. If we could accurately predict all the outcomes, if it all went smoothly, all the time – Yes, it would be easier. But it would also take away someof that magic, the excitement when your new discovery is the missing piece needed for the puzzle to make sense. Or, when your data makes absolutely no sense in light of current dogma, but suggests the possibility for novel para digms.
I started grad school knowing I was going to cure cancer. Today, I finish grad school less certain, but certainly more curious. To quote Sir William Osler, one of the four founding physicians of Johns Hopkins Hospital, “One special advantage of the skeptical attitude of mind is that a man is
n ever vexed to find that after all he has been in the wrong.” Despite the uncertainties in science, I think we can all agree that we would not be here today if not for a few “certainties” in our lives – mentors colleagues, friends and family, many of whom are here with us today. And coffee. We are all thankful for coffee. We are grateful to those who have supported our scientific curiosities, and who have so freely shared their experience,
ideas, and skills, and whose passion for new discoveries continues to inspire us. Those who let us use their RT- PCR machine, centrifuge
and tissue culture hood even though they’ve already booked it. Those who helped us edit our papers and grant applications. Those who consoled us when our papers and grant applications got rejected. We are grateful to those who haven’t given up on us, despite the dinners, weddings and birthdays we’ve missed because we had to go to lab to take care of our cells, bacteria or mice. Those who cooked us dinner, did our laundry, and drove us to the mechanic when the potholes of Baltimore city roads caused the suspension of our cars to give out. Those who taught us how to pick crabs, and shared a Natty Boh or two with us during Orioles and Ravens games, and on the stoop on summer evenings. None of us got here alone.
Today, as we celebrate receiving our diplomas from such a distinguished institution as Johns Hopkins, let us take a moment to acknowledge
those who have helped us along the way. I am fortunate to have had many such people in my life and I am proud to be graduating alongside not just excellent scientists, but also friends, the Best of the Best, in the Greatest City in America.
Thank you and Congratulations, hon!
Cheryl Koh, Ph.D.
When I started grad school, the path to a PhD seemed straightforward enough: First year classes, qualifying exams, doing some research, and publishing said research in a journal of my choice, with
minimal grief from the reviewers. Then, I would spend 3 months writing my thesis somewhere in the mountains, with snow falling softly outside my window, and a cup of hot tea in hand.
But, in grad school, things are seldom that certain. For starters, experiments rarely work on the first try. If an experiment does work on the first try, it’s probably never going to work again. When you need to re-run a critical experiment the night before your thesis committee meeting, you’re probably going to run out of your precious sample, or reagents, or more likely, both. When you analyze your data, the trends you think you observe are never quite statistically significant. If they are, you
might have applied the wrong test. When you need to clone a construct for the “last experiment
that one reviewer asked for,” your primers aren’t going to work, even if you’ve redesigned them 27 times. And there’s ALWAYS that one reviewer. Always.
Just because you’ve tried really hard, and for a really long time, doesn’t mean that you’re going to get the results you anticipated. Research is difficult, often frustrating. But perhaps such is the scientific process. After all, experiments are designed to test hypotheses. If we could accurately predict all the outcomes, if it all went smoothly, all the time – Yes, it would be easier. But it would also take away someof that magic, the excitement when your new discovery is the missing piece needed for the puzzle to make sense. Or, when your data makes absolutely no sense in light of current dogma, but suggests the possibility for novel para digms.
I started grad school knowing I was going to cure cancer. Today, I finish grad school less certain, but certainly more curious. To quote Sir William Osler, one of the four founding physicians of Johns Hopkins Hospital, “One special advantage of the skeptical attitude of mind is that a man is
n ever vexed to find that after all he has been in the wrong.” Despite the uncertainties in science, I think we can all agree that we would not be here today if not for a few “certainties” in our lives – mentors colleagues, friends and family, many of whom are here with us today. And coffee. We are all thankful for coffee. We are grateful to those who have supported our scientific curiosities, and who have so freely shared their experience,
ideas, and skills, and whose passion for new discoveries continues to inspire us. Those who let us use their RT- PCR machine, centrifuge
and tissue culture hood even though they’ve already booked it. Those who helped us edit our papers and grant applications. Those who consoled us when our papers and grant applications got rejected. We are grateful to those who haven’t given up on us, despite the dinners, weddings and birthdays we’ve missed because we had to go to lab to take care of our cells, bacteria or mice. Those who cooked us dinner, did our laundry, and drove us to the mechanic when the potholes of Baltimore city roads caused the suspension of our cars to give out. Those who taught us how to pick crabs, and shared a Natty Boh or two with us during Orioles and Ravens games, and on the stoop on summer evenings. None of us got here alone.
Today, as we celebrate receiving our diplomas from such a distinguished institution as Johns Hopkins, let us take a moment to acknowledge
those who have helped us along the way. I am fortunate to have had many such people in my life and I am proud to be graduating alongside not just excellent scientists, but also friends, the Best of the Best, in the Greatest City in America.
Thank you and Congratulations, hon!
Cheryl Koh, Ph.D.