As a biochemistry PhD student, Kellie Vinal has worked hard to prepare for her qualifying exam, but when the day finally arrives, nothing goes according to plan.
Kellie Vinal is a PhD biochemist, science writer, educator, producer, and adventure enthusiast based in Atlanta, Georgia. She’s wildly interested in the intersection of science, art, and humanity and generally can’t sit still. She’s currently a freelance science communicator, serving as Festival Coordinator for the Atlanta Science Festival, Producer for The Story Collider, and Scientist In Residence for STE(A)M Truck. Kellie has also organized conferences, hosted a children’s TV show, written for various outlets, produced a science-themed bicycle scavenger hunt, hosted podcasts, collaborated on science-infused art projects, and trained to lead museum tours – all in the name of inspiring curiosity and wonder about science.
This story originally aired on January 11, 2019 in an episode titled “Stress.”
Story Transcript
I was staring at myself in the mirror, coffee in hand, of course, trying desperately to laser beam some confidence into my reflection, kind of like now.
So I'd been doing all the right things. I'd been dancing around my room all morning to Big Freedia in my fancy blouse and my fancy skirt, thank you. I'd been taking all kinds of deep breaths and telling myself admittedly lame ass stuff in the mirror, like, “Dude, you got this. You know stuff and things. You're totally going to kill this.”
In case anyone out there is concerned that perhaps I’m a hunter or assassin, don’t worry. What I was going to kill, at least hopefully, was my qualifying exam. For the uninitiated, a qualifying exam is this big scary thing that second year PhD students do in order to get the green light to conduct their dissertation research. So in my program this meant writing a research proposal, outlining everything I intended to do to complete my PhD, and then orally defending this exam in front of my thesis committee.
I'd already gone through the process of writing and then rewriting and then rewriting my proposal and I'd been studying for months. I mean years, really, if you think about it. The day was finally here. I was a verifiable wreck but totally pretending not to be.
But I'll level with you. Leading up to this, I'd been battling some pretty serious self-doubt. Honestly, I've been having panic attacks on the regular and crying in various corners and locations on campus and downing definitely inappropriate amounts of caffeine in order to pull all nighters to just get as much study time as I possibly could. So I'd already been through all of that.
And honestly, I just didn’t really feel like someone like me was smart enough to pass this exam. I didn’t really feel worthy enough to take up space in my graduate program to begin with. If I was being super honest, I had never quite identified as a scientist. I didn’t think that someone like me was good enough to be a scientist. That’s for sure. And between you and me, and us I guess, I was a little iffy on what being a scientist actually really even meant.
All I really knew was that I love science and I wanted to learn everything there is to know about diseases. That might sound kind of insane to join a PhD program based on those two criteria and that’s because it kind of is. But in any case, I saw my qualifying exam as this big, significant moment of truth where someone might finally call my bluff and just point to me and be like, “Yeah, you're not smart enough. You're an impostor.”
So I made my way go campus aggressively ignoring the situation of my stomach and my sweaty palms. At this point, my palms had been sweaty for months anyway. I entered the room that I had booked months before and cleared my throat and scoped out the scene. What I saw was a row of my thesis committee sitting in the front, my adviser sitting in the back and then a faculty member who was there to oversee the exam sitting to the right.
So I took a big deep breath and took my place in front of the white board… and so it began. The idea with an exam like this is to probe for the bounds of my knowledge, so any questions fair game, nothing off limits. The idea is to know everything about everything related to my project, or at least be able to work through using my scientific knowledge.
It started off well enough. I drew diagrams all over the white board, filling up all the space, and answering all these questions, things that I had studied on all those late nights in the library. I was like, “Yes, I’m doing it.” And I felt like it was going pretty well. The truth is if I can turn off that mega anxious part of my brain, I'd love this stuff.
You can call me crazy if you want but I've always been obsessed with diseases, like viruses, bacteria, parasites, all that stuff fascinates me. I love learning the intricate details of how exactly they work, like what the molecules are doing, where they come from, how they spread and like all the loopholes in your body systems that they take advantage of. I joined this lab because the project was so cool. I was studying HIV using actual patient samples and I couldn’t wait to get this stupid thing over with so I could just get started in the lab.
Soon, though, I was answering a question about how B cells mature and my memory got a little bit slippery. I went from answering questions with exclamation points at the end to answering them with question marks at the end. The thing about these exams is that they don’t tell you if you get an answer wrong. These professors have impressive poker faces and will continue to ask you questions to build on your answers so it’s possible for you to dig yourself into a big ass hole and not realize it.
That was kind of percolating in the back of my brain. I knew that was a possibility but I didn’t want it to happen to me. Not me, no. But I knew I got something wrong and I didn’t know exactly what it was. Then I was trying to figure it out and then I just freaked out. I just started to panic. My throat closed up and my fingers got tingly then numb and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I kind of felt like you know when you're on a roller coaster about to plunge down, that’s what my body felt like. If you know me at all, I hate roller coasters. This is not a good situation.
And my brain just kind of like is out of service, like that blue screen of death that computers get. That was what was happening. I couldn’t remember anything anymore. Not even the easy stuff.
The other thing about these exams is that your adviser isn’t allowed to say anything at all. They just sit there silently staring at you. It was around then that my adviser got up and left. So I was just like, “Oh, she must have had a ton of coffee. I’m sure she's just going to the bathroom.”
Then I started to notice how frowny everyone in the room had gotten and I was like, “Oh, shit. Okay. This is not good. Got it. Okay.” I took just everything inside of me to just keep the tears inside, pretend it’s fine, it’s cool. So for the remaining time of my exam, it could have been minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. I have no idea. I was just like, “Hold it together. You got this.”
Eventually, the exam ended. Thank God. My committee asked me to step outside into the lobby. It was definitely pretty surreal. I had sat at this same table next to this sunny wall of windows nearly every day for the past two years and I'd come to associate it with friends and snacks. But this time I was biting my fingernails in a pool of my own sweat. No snacks.
Actually, a classmate of mine was sitting nearby. She kind of told me with a sad look in her eyes like, “Do you want me to give it to you straight? Like if it’s taking this long, that’s not a good sign.”
Of course my brain is just going bananas, like, “Why did I think I was ever good enough? Why did I put myself in this position?”
Eventually, my committee called me back inside the room and the first thing I noticed was a sea of stern faces and sad looks. Things got a little blurry. One of my committee members, I couldn’t even tell you which one at this point, told me that unfortunately I had failed my exam. My brain short circuited and it was kind of like I was underwater but then I also had this out-of-body experience. I floated up to the top of the room and looked at that sad person. It was just really surreal. This is my worst nightmare coming true in real time. Finally, real-life proof that I’m not good enough happening right now. My brain was like exploding.
One by one my committee members took turns telling me, “You know, we really think that you should leave with a master’s. We don’t think you have what it takes to be here.” Then they left.
In the days following, I had a lot of time to think about how I had ended up here and what in the world I was going to do next. I was met with overwhelming support and love from friends and family, and I was super grateful for that, but I just couldn’t get past how this overwhelming feeling of failure, like I failed, and I just really wallowed in that feeling of failure. I hardly left my room for days. I was just moping around in my sad pajamas eating popcorn for dinner again.
You know, as far as I knew, only a handful of people in the history of the world had ever failed this thing before. Surely they were just idiots. It wasn’t something that people talked about seriously, though. It was kind of kept in the down low, like whisper status. So I was just like I guess I’m one of those idiots.
I had zero backup plan. I had put all my stupid eggs in the stupid basket and I hadn’t really thought through long term what my plan was going to be and so I was just miserable. No idea what I was going to do.
Eventually, I had a chance to meet with the faculty member who oversaw my exam and then later I met with other mentors and friends at my program and I came to understand some information that helped put things in perspective for me. I found out that although my adviser had been overwhelmingly kind and supportive in our meetings, for the most part, she had been saying some kind of brutal things about me behind my back, which I didn’t expect. Someone even told me that she had told them she wanted to kick me out of the lab. It seemed to me like maybe this qualifying exam was just an easy peasy, clear cut way to do that. And there were a couple of professors that were furious on my behalf, like honestly that was pretty validating.
So this new information paired with declarations of support from mentors of mine, professors that I worked closely with, kind of gave me the boost that I needed. I was advised to just, you know what, find a new lab. We think you belong to be here. Start over and don’t look back.
So I came to realize that as strong as I'd been trying to be on my own, I hadn’t been receiving the support that I needed. I also, around this time, I got a therapist who taught me that there is a name for what I had been experiencing, maybe not just grad school but for quite some time, and that’s generalized anxiety disorder and depression.
I learned the hard way, as these things always go, it’s kind of the only way to do it, that if something feels really, really wrong that it probably is. You should never have to feel that way. There's always help for you.
So that summer I did a lot of soul searching. I kept going to therapy, I learned how to co-exist with that neurotic brain of mine, and I did a lot of studying and I met with a lot more professors. Really, I was on the hunt to figure out where exactly do I fit.
By the end of the summer, I found a professor who was willing to take me on as a student. I also accidentally fell in love with biochemistry which I did not see coming. I wrote another research proposal and scheduled another qualifying exam.
This time, as I waited in the lobby to hear my fate, it felt different. It didn’t take long this time. The door opened and I saw a smiling face, an outreached hand, and a cheerful voice saying, “Congratulations young lady.” I had found my place. I had found balance and I was grateful. Thank you.