Exploration, Setbacks, and Success: Si Ning’s Journey Through University

I. Embracing the Unknown

Entering university is often described as an exciting new chapter in life—but for many students, it can also feel overwhelming, disorienting, and filled with uncertainty. Questions about career direction, degree choice, and long-term goals can quickly pile up, especially when expectations from family, finances, or peers come into play. If you’ve ever felt unsure about where you’re headed, you’re not alone.

In this post, I had the opportunity to speak with someone I’ve personally looked up to since my first year: Si Ning. She was my very first biology lab TA, and her energy, humor, and genuine care for students made a lasting impression on me. She created an environment where learning felt approachable, even during the chaos of that first semester, and I continue to admire both her academic journey and her down-to-earth honesty.

Si Ning’s story is not one of straight lines or perfect plans—but rather of reflection, resilience, and finding direction through exploration. From initially wanting to study art and criminology, to discovering pharmacology by accident, to ultimately finding a passion for pediatric research, her experience is both relatable and inspiring.

This conversation offers more than advice—it’s a reminder that it’s okay to feel uncertain, to change direction, and to grow along the way. Whether you’re early in your degree or still unsure about what’s next, I hope her story encourages you to keep going, ask questions, and stay open to the unexpected.

II. The Reality of Choosing a Degree

For many students, the process of selecting a university degree is shaped more by external pressures and misconceptions than by true understanding. It’s not uncommon to begin a program thinking it aligns with your goals—only to realize later that your assumptions didn’t quite match reality. Si Ning’s journey is a perfect example of how initial uncertainty can still lead to meaningful growth and direction.

She initially dreamed of pursuing a career in art and design, with a strong interest in game development. However, due to financial constraints and long-term job security concerns, she knew this path wouldn’t be feasible. Like many students, she had to make a pragmatic choice, one that balanced her interests with the realities of future stability.

She briefly considered criminology, inspired by an early fascination with investigative work and crime-solving. But after enrolling in a few introductory courses, she quickly realized the field wasn’t the right fit.

Ultimately, she entered the pharmacology program—mistakenly believing it was the same as pharmacy. It wasn’t until her first year that she discovered the two disciplines were entirely different. Despite this realization, she chose to stay and adapt, learning to work with what she had committed to.

This experience is far more common than students are led to believe. Many individuals—including myself—have changed majors, shifted career interests, or re-evaluated their direction during undergrad. Yet, it’s rarely talked about openly. There’s a sense of pressure to “get it right” on the first try, when in reality, university is one of the most valuable opportunities you’ll have to explore and refine your interests.

As Si Ning emphasized in our conversation, “Very few people actually know what they want to do in their first year—and that’s completely normal.” Your undergraduate years are not just about finding answers, but about asking the right questions, trying new paths, and learning through experience.

III. Exploration and Adaptability

One of the most valuable, yet overlooked, parts of the undergraduate experience is the freedom to explore. For Si Ning, trying different fields—even those that didn’t end up being the right fit—played a crucial role in helping her understand what she did want.

At one point, she seriously considered criminology, inspired by a childhood fascination with detective and crime-solving shows. Like many students, the appeal of a field shaped by media seemed exciting and meaningful. But after taking a few introductory courses, the reality didn’t match the fantasy. It was a brief chapter, but an important one—because it ruled something out, and helped refine her direction.

Later, Si Ning explored the idea of teaching. She volunteered with a program that placed university students into elementary classrooms, helping teachers and engaging with children. While the experience confirmed her love for mentorship and education, it also revealed something unexpected: she preferred working with older students. The structure and depth of conversation she found in university-level settings resonated with her far more than early childhood education.

These moments—starting something, reassessing, and adjusting course—were not detours in her journey; they were essential to it. As she reflected, very few students actually know what they want to do when they begin university, and most are navigating the same uncertainty.

The lesson here is simple but powerful: exploration is not wasted time, and pivoting is not failure. The only way to find what fits is to be willing to try—and to recognize that every experience, whether it lasts a semester or a single course, brings clarity and growth.

IV. The Power of Community

University is a major transition—not just academically, but socially and emotionally. For many students, it’s the first time stepping into a much larger environment, where the number of people, the pace of life, and the level of independence can feel overwhelming. Unlike high school, where social circles are often familiar and structured, university demands that you start fresh. And that can feel isolating.

Si Ning reflected on this shift, emphasizing how essential it was to find a support system early on. One of the most grounding experiences in her undergraduate journey was building connections with people across different programs and faculties. From science to economics to the arts, her network included students exploring completely different paths—and that variety made all the difference.

What stood out in her story was how much she learned through her peers. Those cross-disciplinary friendships offered fresh perspectives, helpful advice, and sometimes even career insights she wouldn’t have encountered otherwise. When you surround yourself with people who are also figuring things out, it makes the uncertainty feel less heavy. You start to realize that being unsure is not a personal flaw—it’s a shared experience.

Si Ning also spoke about the process of making friends, and how living on campus during her first year helped her form some of the strongest bonds she still has today. For those who worry about fitting in or being introverted, she offers reassurance: you don’t need to be extroverted to build meaningful friendships. Sometimes just sharing a class, a residence floor, or a mutual sense of confusion is enough to spark connection.

There’s a common saying that you’ll meet your lifelong friends in university—and for Si Ning, that turned out to be true. These relationships became anchors during moments of academic stress, career uncertainty, and even burnout.

The bigger message here is this: your peers are one of the most valuable parts of your university experience. Not just for study groups or shared notes, but for emotional support, shared laughter, late-night advice, and the reminder that you’re not navigating it alone.

V. From Coursework to Research: A Purpose Unfolds

For many students aiming to pursue higher education—whether it’s graduate research, medicine, or dentistry—the list of expectations can feel endless. Research experience, clinical hours, volunteer work, strong academics—the pressure to have it all lined up early is real. And yet, most students aren’t told how to get started, or that it’s okay to figure things out as you go.

Si Ning’s story offers a refreshingly honest perspective on how academic purpose doesn’t always begin with a perfect plan—it often unfolds through real experiences, personal connection, and a willingness to take initiative.

In her case, it began with a required fourth-year research course. Like many undergraduates, she initially saw it as just another academic obligation. But at the time, her father was experiencing long-term, undiagnosed chronic muscle pain—a struggle that left a deep emotional impact. That personal experience sparked her interest in inflammation and pain, and she began looking for professors doing research in that area.

Not knowing exactly how to break into research, she started the way many students do: by sending cold emails. Some went unanswered. One professor was on maternity leave. But one response came quickly—within ten minutes, in fact—and it led to a meeting that would shape the next stage of her journey.

Interestingly, she didn’t even realize at first that she had joined a pediatric research lab. But once she started working in the lab, she became captivated by the field—especially the concept of developmental reprogramming. She learned that stressors or environmental changes during pregnancy or early life can lead to long-term physiological changes, increasing risks for chronic diseases later in adulthood. Research wasn’t just theoretical anymore—it had real-world impact.

What began as a box to check became a field of purpose. And for Si Ning, it also became a long-term direction.

Her story is an important reminder that research, shadowing, and clinical exposure don't need to start with perfection—they can start with curiosity and persistence. And for students pursuing competitive professional or graduate programs, getting involved doesn’t require a flawless resume. It requires a willingness to reach out, ask questions, and learn by doing.

In Si Ning’s words, she was “uninformed, stressed, and just trying to graduate.” But through that experience, she found meaning and momentum. For any student trying to figure out how to meet expectations while still finding their path, her journey is proof that it’s okay to start small—and that direction often comes from doing, not just planning.

VI. Study Habits and Self-Discipline

Academic success in university isn’t just about intelligence—it’s about learning how to manage your time, energy, and expectations. Like many high-achieving students, Si Ning didn’t enter university with flawless study habits. In fact, she learned the hard way.

She candidly shared her early struggles in highschool, where her initial study methods didn’t serve her well. It was during this period that she realized cramming and passive review weren’t sustainable. That wake-up call prompted a shift in mindset—a realization that carried through to university.

By the time she began her undergraduate studies, she had already adopted a more intentional approach to academics. Her key strategy? Start early. Then double the time you think you need. If she estimated needing one week to study for an exam, she planned for two. It was a proactive way to reduce stress and avoid burnout.

Si Ning also emphasized the importance of daily structure. She developed a to-do list system—one that included both essential tasks and small, achievable items. This helped her track progress, stay realistic about what could be accomplished in a day, and maintain momentum. As she put it, “We tend to overestimate how much we can do in a day. Setting a minimum goal and building from there makes productivity feel satisfying, not overwhelming.”

Beyond the practical, she also addressed something many students struggle with: the toxic mindset of guilt-driven productivity. That lingering feeling of “I could have done more” can eat away at confidence and lead to constant burnout. Over time, she learned to let go of that mindset and prioritize rest as an essential part of academic success.

Her takeaway is clear: Self-discipline is not about pushing yourself to the limit—it’s about knowing your limits and working with them. The most successful students aren’t those who study the most hours or pull the most all-nighters. They’re the ones who build sustainable habits, start early, and practice self-compassion along the way.

VII. Navigating Imposter Syndrome

While undergraduate studies come with their own set of challenges, Si Ning shared that graduate school brought a new and deeper wave of pressure—not just academically, but emotionally. Among tight-knit cohorts and high-performing peers, she found herself constantly comparing her progress, her skills, and even her value to others. This is where imposter syndrome took hold.

She described grad school as highly competitive and, at times, intimidating. In such environments, it’s easy to question your worth, especially when surrounded by students with impressive resumes, years of prior research experience, or early publications. The small class sizes and day-to-day proximity to others only amplified the pressure. "You see the same people every day,” she noted, “and sometimes it starts to feel like everyone has it more figured out than you.”

In these spaces, knowing who to trust or who genuinely supports you can feel uncertain. Stories of lab competition—even sabotage—circulate often in academic environments, and Si Ning admitted that the intensity can be isolating and even frightening. So how did she navigate it?Her strategy wasn’t to match others’ accomplishments—but to redefine what success looked like for herself. Instead of focusing on how far others had come, she reminded herself of her own starting point. “Some people had years of experience before I even started. Of course our CVs look different.” With time, she realized that what mattered most was that she was showing up, learning, and doing her best.

This shift in mindset helped her let go of the need to “do more” just to prove herself. She began to focus on consistency, curiosity, and integrity—knowing that growth is deeply personal and rarely linear.

Her reflections serve as a powerful reminder: self-worth should not be measured by productivity or comparison. Especially in competitive spaces, the real challenge is to stay grounded in your own journey and recognize that everyone moves at their own pace.

VIII. Practical Advice for Students

Looking back on her journey, Si Ning shared some thoughtful advice for current and future students—especially those still navigating the uncertainties of university life. These weren’t abstract ideas, but grounded lessons from lived experience—strategies that helped her stay afloat and move forward.

First and foremost: study early, and rest purposefully. Si Ning emphasized that one of the most effective ways to reduce academic stress is to begin preparing well ahead of deadlines. Procrastination might be common, but it often leads to unnecessary burnout. Planning in advance, even in small steps, creates room for flexibility—and more importantly, for rest. “It’s not about working harder, it’s about working sustainably,” she noted.

She also encouraged students to cold email professors—whether for research opportunities, clarification, or mentorship. It can feel intimidating at first, but often it just takes one message to open a door. In her case, cold emailing led her directly to her research supervisor and a field of study she now feels deeply connected to.

That said, she was also clear: professors aren’t always right. If something doesn’t make sense or if expectations feel unfair, it’s okay to ask questions and seek clarity. Advocacy in academic spaces is often learned through experience, and students shouldn’t feel guilty for speaking up or needing extra explanation.

Finally, one of her biggest takeaways was the value of building community early. Especially in first year, forming friendships and support networks can ease the transition into university. Those early relationships become a source of encouragement, motivation, and perspective—both academically and personally.

Si Ning’s advice is simple, yet powerful: start early, rest when you need to, ask for help without shame, and don’t go through university alone.

IX. Conclusion: Redefining Success

For many students, graduation is framed as the ultimate finish line—a final destination that signals everything has been figured out. But as Si Ning openly shared, even post-grad life comes with its own share of uncertainty. Earning a degree doesn’t mean all the answers suddenly appear. In fact, new questions often begin to emerge.

Si Ning’s journey shows us that success isn’t about having a flawless academic path, a perfectly planned career, or constant productivity. It’s about being open to change, staying curious, and continuing to grow—even when you’re unsure of what comes next.

What makes her story so powerful is that it doesn’t glorify struggle, nor does it paint a picture of effortless achievement. It’s real, it’s thoughtful, and it acknowledges what so many students feel—but rarely say out loud.

If there’s one message to take away, it’s this: you don’t need to have everything figured out to make meaningful progress. Start where you are. Ask questions. Seek help. Surround yourself with people who support you, and don’t be afraid to explore.

Redefining success starts by letting go of the pressure to be perfect—and embracing the process of becoming.