OPINION: Moments are being taken away from the next generation of scientists

I’m 17 years old. In AP Psychology, our final project is to design an experiment, collect data, and write up the results. My teacher suggests that our group, fascinated by the concept of false memories, reach out to memory researcher, Dr. Elizabeth Loftus, for advice. I email her, and to my surprise, she responds. I send Dr. Loftus a thank-you email with our results. She reads our report and congratulates us on our significant result.

I am astonished that such an established researcher and professor would not only respond to our initial email but also read our work. So begins my unrelenting dream to become a scientist and mentor like Dr. Loftus. Today, shrinking federal budgets leave scientists scrambling to sustain their research and staff. In turn, scientists have less time for public education and mentorship.

I’m 18 years old. I will begin college in the fall and major in psychology. A friend’s mom, an addiction counselor, recommends I read the book “Unbroken Brain” by Maia Szalavitz. Szalavitz’s book highlights the racial injustice in the war on drugs and how punitive responses to addiction harm people’s lives. This resonates deeply with my experiences growing up, when I witnessed firsthand how punitive systems often caused more harm than healing.

I am driven towards a career in addiction research, where I hope to help kids like me, my friends and our families. Recent reductions in funding make it harder for myself and my colleagues to conduct science that informs compassionate and equitable treatments. As funding dwindles, people will be less likely to encounter research that reflects their experience and inspires them to join the movement to challenge outdated, harmful approaches to treating addiction.

I’m 20 years old, a sophomore in college, and I’m being kicked out of my dorm room during finals week because of a pandemic. I have no choice but to return home. I hope things will be different, but I know better. Within 10 weeks, my life is in danger. Shelters are closed; I have nowhere to go and five courses to complete. In the nick of time, I receive a summer undergraduate research grant that provides me with the funding I need to leave. Fortunate is an understatement. On little notice, I pack up all my belongings, rent a car, drive 13 hours back to my college town (attending calculus class from the highway via Zoom), and settle into an acquaintance’s dining room until I land on my feet.

For the next two years, I practically live in the research lab. There, I hone my research skills, get ready for my first-ever date, complete my graduate school interviews and celebrate my 22nd birthday. I find a home in that place. Presently, universities including mine face federal funding freezes and terminations that disproportionately harm vulnerable groups. The endowments of universities and salaries of professors are not all that is at stake — the communities these research projects help and the students whose livelihoods depend on funding have the most to lose.

Today, I’m 25 years old. My future in the field has never been more precarious. Science has taught me integrity, patience and the power of imperfect progress. I have found my passion. Science has brought meaning to my struggles and has saved my life in more ways than one.

Science is not just something I do; it’s a core facet of who I am. If science is taken from me, an important piece of me will be gone. This is why I will never stop fighting for science, and why I encourage you to fight alongside me — we have more to lose than funding. Kids today are at risk of missing scientific experiences that shape who they are, create a sense of belonging, make meaning out of painful experiences and introduce them to the magic of creating knowledge that can help others.