What Studying Science Taught Me about Being Human
This past May, after 6 years of study, I graduated with my Bachelors in Biomedical Sciences. Essentially, a biology major with a minor in chemistry and a focus on building a foundation for medical school. One of the more impactful classes I took was Cellular and Molecular Biology. During the lab this semester, we spent several weeks experimenting with CRISPR-Cas9 (Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats) and E. coli. CRISPR-Cas9 is a gene-editing technology that uses single-guide RNA to select a specific sequence of a genome and an enzyme, Cas9, to cause double stranded break, effectively removing that DNA sequence. Once the sequence has been cut, the natural repair systems of the organism take over and the scientist can even insert a new sequence into the break site before the fix occurs. (Super cool!)
After spending several class periods analyzing the CRISPR mechanism hands-on, we took some time to reflect on its broader implications. We discussed everything from human germ-line editing, to ecological disruption and biosecurity dilemmas. This moment stuck with me. It is a reminder that while humans have the capacity to create wonderful tools that may lead to therapies, treatments, and cures we are also capable of misusing them. Technologies like CRISPR hold immense promise, but they also ask us to reckon with responsibility.
When I contemplate science this way, I realize that science doesn’t just teach us about the natural world. It also teaches us about ourselves..
The Oxford Dictionary defines science as “the systematic study of the structure and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation, experimentation, and the testing of theories against the evidence obtained.” Biology, as a branch of science, teaches us about life. It teaches us about bodies, cells, and intricate biological systems that quietly work in our favor every second of the day. Studying things like DNA, RNA, and cellular mechanisms reminds me to hold space for humility. There is so much happening inside us that we don’t consciously control, yet it all works in beautiful coordination to keep us alive.
This is why curiosity matters, in science and in life.
A perfect example of this is Antoine van Leeuwenhoek. He wasn’t originally a scientist; he worked as a linen draper. In trying to do his job better, he crafted a tiny lens to inspect fibers more closely. That simple tool became the world’s first microscope. And he didn’t stop at textiles. His curiosity led him to examine drops of pond water, and in doing so, he became the first person to observe microscopic organisms.
His human traits – wonder, curiosity, persistence – led to one of the most groundbreaking inventions in science. Without the microscope, we would have never uncovered the microbial world. And without that, Louis Pasteur wouldn’t have developed vaccines for rabies and chicken cholera, or laid the foundation for germ theory.
With curiosity comes uncertainty – and science embraces uncertainty with open arms. It’s not a flaw in the process; it’s the starting point. Uncertainty gives us room to form hypotheses, to test and retest through educated trial and error. It invites us to ask questions even when the answers are unclear, incomplete, or constantly evolving. Albert Einstein once said, “The most important thing is to never stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.” That mindset doesn’t just serve the lab. It serves life.
The ability to sit with uncertainty, to remain curious in the face of not knowing, is a deeply human skill. In science, it leads to discovery. In life, it builds resilience. We learn to navigate failure, whether scientific or personal, with patience and adaptability. We learn that progress matters more than perfection.
I had the opportunity to learn this firsthand in the middle of my undergraduate studies. A series of traumatic experiences disrupted my nervous system and led to severe burnout. I lost the will to study science entirely. But through that pain, and with time and determination, I slowly rebuilt. I allowed myself space to heal, and as I did, I found my way back to biology. This time with a deeper love than ever before.
I immersed myself in the subject, fueled by the same curiosity that had once guided Van Leeuwenhoek. Studying the human body and disease pathology changed the way I saw people. It taught me to extend more empathy – because it’s so easy for something to go wrong in the body, and not all suffering is visible. You might never know someone is struggling without looking closely – biologically, emotionally, or otherwise.
Science impacts humanity in profound ways. It helps us care for one another. It gives us tools to study what’s gone wrong and imagine how we might begin to fix it. And perhaps most importantly, it teaches us how to be resilient when the answers aren’t easy or clear.
The most meaningful lesson science has taught me about being human is how wonderful life truly is. Through all its complexity – the triumphs, failures, the endless unknowns – science offers us the gift of curiosity. It invites us to keep learning, questioning, and growing. And in doing so, it helps us uncover new emotional depths and richer ways of living.
Because to be curious is to be alive.
To seek answers is to stay open.
And to understand life more deeply is to feel more deeply, too.
So, reader – what sparks your curiosity?
What helps you feel most alive, connected, or in awe of the world around you?
