The Perks of Palau Fieldwork

This post was guest written by my science cousin, Hannah Reich (PhD Candidate, LaJeunesse Lab, Penn State University). Take it away Hannah!

Upon telling people I travel to Palau for coral reef research, I generally yield reactions such as ‘is that a country’ which is immediately followed by ‘where is that?!?’ After explaining Palau is a country of islands a five-hour flight south of Japan. I’m then flooded with questions about scuba diving for “work,” whether I see sharks while diving, and if I’m going to save corals from global warming. Admittedly, I enjoy telling my family stories of diving through thickets of corals that are miraculously able to persist in bathwater, swimming through schools of fish and sharks over underwater cliffs, and capping off dive days with boat rides through Palau’s lush rock islands which are surrounded by electric turquoise lagoons. I marvel about the joys of exploring the vibrant and intricate complexities of Palau’s underwater world for research.

But that isn’t my favorite part about working in Palau.

Indeed, the world-class diving, frequent meals of fresh fish (sorry mom), and extravagant sunsets keep my spirits high, but working alongside my “science family” takes the cake for the perks of Palau fieldwork. Out of pure dumb luck, I entered graduate school at the onset of a National Science Foundation grant between my mentor at Penn State and collaborators at the University of Delaware and the University of Alabama at Birmingham. This meant that throughout graduate school, I’d be making annual trips to Palau with my mentor, other members of our research group (labmates) and our counterparts from the other institutions. Since my mentor and his collaborators were all mentored by the same individuals back in the day, that makes us all one big, unique “science family.”

Having a community of coral researchers at Penn State has been integral to my survival in graduate school (and is the sole reason I haven’t fled landlocked Pennsyltucky). The mutual understanding of the graduate school struggle and shared passion for coral science has manifested itself into a support system I hold under lock and key. I’ve learned far more from my colleagues than I ever could googling my endless problems. I am forever indebted to a small army of mentors and countless labmates who have contributed substantially to my growth as a scientist.

Lucky for me, the group mentality doesn’t stop when I am in the field. I am surrounded by science siblings, cousins and uncles*. They make surprise 8 hour delays in unthrilling delta lounges and unexpected overnights in strange airport motels a source of laughter. Tedious tasks such as stamping tiles, zip-tying cages, or moving cinder blocks (somehow) become less mundane. Dinner each night becomes a family dinner where our mentors tell stories of our predecessors, their former fieldwork adventures and the pranks they played on each other. I snicker as my science uncles critique one another’s every move and push my mentor’s buttons. Many of my most satisfying spells of laughter of graduate school are from these moments.

All laughing spells aside, having the opportunity to work alongside my extended science family for my dissertation research in paradise is something I cherish. I am thankful to be surrounded of a group of mentors and colleagues who I am constantly bouncing ideas off of and learning from. Late night and mid-grunt work conversations of how our “generation” will continue our family’s collaboration serves as constant motivation for perseverance through graduate school. We laugh as we divvy up who will be responsible for what and decide what stories we will and won’t tell our future students. The thought of doing science in isolation makes me shudder. Graduate school can be a roller coaster in itself but being surrounded by multiple support systems has made the ride much smoother.

*our science generation is working on altering the gender ratios of our group of collaborators