The effect of a science fair on a college student

Emmy Jansen
MSMU Class of 2023

(12/2019) As I begin to get comfortable in my role as a writer here, I’m being given opportunities to expand my understanding of the Emmitsburg area. The Mother Seton School’s Science Fair was one of these opportunities. It was a multilayered experience. For the past three months, I’ve been living as an adult, or pretending to be one at least. Yet less than a year ago, I was another student in another school doing projects like these, although I attended a public high school instead of a school like Mother Seton. It was somewhat of a reality check to step back into the mindset I had been in mere months ago. I have about four years more in age than the oldest students who participated in the science fair, yet that four year means more than I ever understood. Where I am now and where I was then are drastically different places.

Even for those who haven’t had those very influential formative years, it’s understood about the importance of your high school time. This was obvious in some of the science projects, where a few of them examined how strong your memory of high school is even decades after you’ve graduated. I had never seen that type of investigation done in a school science fair and it was heartwarming to see. One of these projects went as far as to close their experiment with advice the high school graduates would give to high school freshmen. This advice included "keep your head up high," "be yourself," "stay out of the seniors’ way," and "enjoy every day." It warmed my heart to see different generations interacting and learning from each other at the fair, through the projects and mere time spent together. It reminded me of how we aren’t all separate entities, like we sometimes treat each other in today’s polarized world.

I did not grow up in the towns like Emmitsburg and the surrounding area. My hometown is a busy city near Richmond. I never experienced the small-town life of the mountains. Attending the science fair opened my eyes to another idea: the importance of community. I had no personal connection to anyone at Mother Seton and the only people I knew in the room were my fellow Mount writers. At first, I felt like I was intruding on someone else’s memory. It took my back to the science fairs of my youth. I dreaded completing an experiment every year, as science was always one of my least favorite subjects. The frustration I felt during my education wasn’t present in those students, though. The room was full of the curiosity and ingenuity of today’s youth, which itself is a magical thing. If I had had one of the brain cells any of these students had, I would’ve enjoyed the experience a lot more. They had very real-world oriented ideas. I find myself feeling hopeful for the future after seeing that this is the type of individual our schools are helping to shape.

This speaks to the broader idea of community. Mount St. Mary’s mission is to graduate ethical leaders who lead lives of significance. To truly lead these lives, we need to understand what significance is. To do that, we need to understand what insignificance is. As we strive to create leaders dedicated to service, I think we should educate them on who they are serving. I propose that Mount students attend community events in the Emmitsburg area, even if they gain nothing but understanding from them. It doesn’t have to be about service; our presence there doesn’t have to mean anything. But it would help us to understand what the service we do accomplish is all about. The communities are the reason we do the service, usually in communities we don’t know and aren’t a part of. We need to become comfortable with this idea of helping those that we have no attachment to, just because. Therefore, we should practice going into different communities to just experience them. Not only will it benefit us, as students learning about significant lives, but it will benefit the surrounding area and our relationship with them. The science fair had many in attendance, but what if the room had been packed with young adults celebrating the students’ successes with them? Yes, the pride and joy of your family is important. But to see people who have no attachment to the school and are there to genuinely enjoy the event could make an impact in a child’s life.

This poses a very impactful reality check. In a room full of people I don’t know, who I am? While we don’t like to think we can be self-centered and self-invested, we always can be. So, being tasked with this story was therapeutic in that sense. Sometimes, you need to not mean anything to anyone. It gave me a chance to not participate, and just watch. I saw proud parents lovingly embarrass their children over their successes. Grandparents chased their grandchildren around the room and between the tables. All the while, I stood there, not meaning anything to anyone. It was perfect. I think this is a vital part of the core curriculum that is missing at the Mount.

Aside from the awe at the brain power of these students, I was still at war with myself. Who was I to come in and ask these kids, who I knew nothing about, questions about their projects they created for a school that I’d never been to? What could I, a first-year college student from a big city, write that would matter to anyone in a small town I hadn’t heard of before coming to the Mount? What could I give to these students, already more advanced than I could ever hope to be at that age, the youth of today that are already focused on the problems of tomorrow? Who did I think I was? What was I hoping to accomplish?

Frankly, I still don’t know. I don’t think I’m alone in pondering where I fit in on this planet. But this uncertainty is healthy. To understand significance, we need to understand insignificance. Let’s strengthen our idea of community, the ones we belong to and the one we do not. Instead of living separate lives, let’s coexist in our ideas of belonging and finding our own ways. I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t know what my purpose is. But this feels like a good place to start.

Read other articles by Emmy Jansen