#grad student reader

Chapter 1: The Mermaid

A/N: I haven't written a fanfiction since middle school, and I definitely didn't see myself writing one during my second year as a grad student. Watching Project Hail Mary as a grad student in STEM (a woman in STEM!!!) was such a fun experience. Things like poorly constructed pilot experiments, failed analyses, defending your research, and imposter syndrome are just some of the many things I related to throughout the movie. Also, science can be pretty isolating, depending on your field of study. I know I was pretty lonely for a large chunk of college and I preferred to work alone most of the time, just to make things go quicker. Ryland not having many close friends makes sense. It also makes sense that his deepest bond is with someone who isn't human, let alone on Earth. Scientists are weird, but in a wacky, wonderful, and unexpected way. What we shouldn't forget is that science is for everyone. Anyone can be a scientist.

-Belle

Grover Cleveland Middle wasn’t where I thought my master’s would take me. Shouldn’t a graduate student in ecology with a focus in marine biology be out swifting through the rocky intertidal or staring at harbor seals all day? Apparently not, according to my PI. As I stand at the front gate of the middle school, I recall why my PI sent me here in the first place. 

~~~

“Excuse me?” I ask. Weekly meetings with Dr. Mondia were always centered around numbers, coding, and experimental methods, so his suggestion was completely out of the ordinary. 

“It’s not a bad idea, Miss (L/N). Your work is exceptional, but your project required you to be in the lab every single day for five months, with no more than three consecutive days off at a time.” He stated. 

I blink in response, interested in what the problem could be. Did I do my study wrong? Was I missing something? I flip through the file cabinets of my brain to see what could be missing. I've cited all my literature references, I reached out to my committee members about my thesis defense date, I've done all the statistical and visual analyses... what could it be??

“Out of the duration of your experiment, you only missed eight days. You were in the lab for six hours every day for five months, a total of nearly one hundred and fifty days, and a total amount of hours that I’m afraid to crunch the numbers for.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing? If that says anything about me, I think it proves that I take my work very seriously.” I ask, shifting in my seat across from his desk, rapidly clicking my pen. Now, I remember why I went through the extra trouble of finding “silent" pens.

“Yes, but did you engage with anyone within or outside the scientific community for your work?”

“I went to the naturalist conference in San Diego in the fall, and I've presented posters of my work at numerous biology department showcases. Do those count?”

"Yes, but... have you presented your work to anyone who has little to no scientific background or experience with the hermit crabs that you worked with?"

"Most of the people I've chatted with were colleagues or people in different fields of science. If you're wondering if I've presented my work to people who are completely in the dark about biology, I'd say I haven't talked to anyone." I say this with a sigh, finally catching on to what he's trying to tell me.

“Exactly, (Y/N). As a scientist, collaboration and communication are key. You did your project on your own with no undergrads to help you, which is impressive, but being a scientist also comes with knowing your audience and presenting your work in a way that anyone can understand.” He says, folding his hands and placing them on his desk. 

I take a moment to think before asking my next question. Why on Earth would teaching at a middle school about my graduate study be so important? 

“Why middle school? Why not high school or undergrads?” I ask, finally putting down my pen to relax my sore thumb. 

“Firstly, most high schools and colleges are more focused on commencement or end-of-the-year events, like prom and graduations. Secondly, we have a teacher at Grover Cleveland Middle School who has been a co-author on a few scientific articles published through our university, and he pitched the idea to me over a cup of coffee last week.” He says, slightly chuckling to himself. 

“Do you know him personally?” I ask, sensing the shift in his voice to a friendlier tone. 

“We were colleagues during our undergraduate studies. As he was starting his Ph.D, he reached out to ask me about a paper I had published, and wanted to pick my brain about the evolutionary timeline of certain species of crabs. I later attended his oral presentation for his dissertation. It didn’t end well.”

“I'd really hate to ask why.” I say, cringing at the endless possibilities that could go wrong with a presentation like that. Imagine a single presentation defining the entirety of over four years of work, with limited time to explain your question, hypothesis, supporting evidence, experimental design, the experiment itself, data collection, data analysis, implications, and conclusions along with future directions. Ya, definately no pressure there, bud. 

“Let’s just say that he had some opinions that didn’t go well with some core beliefs within the scientific community.” He said, standing up to open a window next to his desk. 

“Why me, though?” I ask. 

“I owe him a solid. Back in undergrad, he helped me ask out a girl in my physics class. Penny never fails to remind me that our wedding happened because of him, and that she's the best thing that's ever happened to me." He shrugs his shoulders at the cold air being introduced to his office.

“So, I’m just part of a transaction? What does he want me to do with a room full of rowdy and messy preteens? I don’t exactly work well with kids.” 

“After his dissertation, a lot of scientists looked down on him and he lost a majority of his connections. He became the poster boy of what not to do during a dissertation. I know a Berkeley professor who would pull up a recording of his presentation to show her students what a dissertation shouldn't look like.” He chuckles to himself before sitting back down at his desk. 

“The point is, he wants to wrap up the remainder of the school year with a topic that his students voted for, and he wants someone who can bring in all kinds of little creatures for the kids to look at. He also wants to show the class what biology looks like at a college level. Since I’m one of the only people who cared to acknowledge his existence after his garbage fire of a dissertation, he reached out to me.” 

“Okay, so what’s in it for me?” I ask, slightly annoyed with the idea of having to interact with impatient kids and a disgraced former-scientist.

“You like working alone, right? Think of this as exposure therapy.” 

~~~

Dr. Mondia can be so wrong sometimes, but absolutely right at the same time. I walk through the gates of the school and make my way to the first building I see with a sign that says “Main Office”. I knock on the door before entering and look around the room. A lady at the front desk is typing away at her computer, but turns her head to me as I continue forward. 

“Hi there, are you here to pick up your kid from after-school care? I'll need a last name and their grade.” She smiles and points to a clipboard with steps for after-school care pick up; instructions for immediate family and extended family or friends.

“Actually, I’m here to see Mr. Grace. The science teacher? I’m a master’s student in Dr. Mondia’s lab at the San Francisco University of Sciences. He should have sent an email… or a voicemail… or a written letter.” I respond, trying to think of the ways my PI would be contacting the school. He’s so old. 

“Oh, you’re the mermaid! Mr. Grace is in the teacher’s lounge in the back, I can let him know that you’re here and I can send you in.”

Before I could respond, she was already up from her seat and making her way to a room farther into the small building. Mermaid? Why am I a mermaid? I hope Mr. Grace doesn’t expect me to dress up like one while I teach his students. If that’s the case, he probably should have hired one of those princesses for children’s birthday parties, or I could refer him to my drag queen friends who would be more than happy to dress up in pretty mermaid tails at the beach. Anything I could cram together to dress up as a mermaid would be an insult to the craft. 

The lady peeps her head out the door frame and gives me a smile. 

“He spilled some coffee. I hope you don’t mind that he’s cleaning up while you guys chat.” She props open the door of the teacher’s lounge for me and sits back down at her desk. I thank her and make my way down the short hallway, if you would even call it that. I reach the door frame and knock on the propped door to imply my presence. Mr. Grace is tearing off paper towels from the roll and placing them on the puddles of spilled black coffee. At the same time he’s trying to catch any falling drops of coffee with his mug. 

“I hope you won’t be drinking that.” I say, slightly cringing at the idea of drinking the spilled coffee. This balancing act that he has going on will not end well if he keeps it up. He looks up and meets my gaze with an embarrassed and goofy smile.

“I mean, they should pay me more so I could afford to get my own coffee. Isn’t that right, Marjorie?” He calls to the lady at the front desk.

“Don’t drag me into the salary debate again.” she says from the front desk. 

“She agrees. I’m pretty great.” He says sarcastically, while trying to move the soaked paper towels to the side of the table to place his mug down. Looking at the small bin next to me with his hands on his hips, he bites down on his bottom lip and squints his eyes.

“Need help?” I ask, clutching the strap of my bookbag. 

“No, no, no, I’m just trying to figure out if these wads of coffee-soaked paper towels would make a good basketball for that garbage bin hoop.” He says, mimicking the wind up of a free throw. 

“I’d suggest a lay up.” I say jokingly, picking up the trash bin and moving it near the table. 

“Thanks for being a good sport.” he says, sliding the soaked paper towels into the trash bin. The smell of coffee lingers on the table as I watch him clean up the mess. The last time I had black coffee was when I pulled an all-nighter to finish coding. Turns out, I forgot a parenthesis in the middle chunk of my code, and had been scanning for the mistake for three hours before I actually found what was wrong. 

“I’d be an even better sport if you didn’t bestow the nickname of 'the mermaid' on me before I had a chance to talk to you. Just (Y/N) is fine with me, and it's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Grace.” I say, letting him clean up the remainder of his mess.

“You’re a marine biologist. Don’t you swim with fish and talk with whales? Don’t you bother sea stars and seaweed, and all that other crap?” He asks as he brings the trash bin back to its original spot and makes his way back to the table in a few strides. 

“Language, Mr. Grace!” Marjorie says from her desk. 

“It’s after hours! Besides, the kids are in the auditorium on the other side of the school. They'll be fine!” He jokes, and gestures for me to sit down across from him before taking his own seat. 

Before sitting down, I open my bag to pull out his dissertation. I take a look at the title before dropping it in front of him on the table. 

“You wrote that.” A look of sympathy laced with curiosity graces my face, hoping that he'd understand why I brought it here.

“Wow, umm. First of all, it’s very nice to finally meet you, (Y/N). Second of all, you should have brought that in sooner. It would probably have been better than the paper towels at cleaning up spilled coffee. Gotta reduce, reuse, and recycle things without a purpose right?” He says, his face contorting at the sight of it. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. 

“Mondia insisted I read it, but I want the truth from the horse’s mouth.” I say as I finally sit down across from him and slide the neatly stapled stack of papers toward him.

"What happened, Mr.- ... Dr. Grace?" His ears seem to perk up at the acknowledgement of his previous role.

“I called a renowned scientist a ‘waste of carbon’.” He says, staring at the paper blankly as his glasses begin to slide down his nose. He catches them in time and pushes them back into place with his index finger.

“Because I believe that life doesn’t need hydrogen and oxygen to exist, at least if we're talking about other planets and galaxies. It's a universally accepted belief that I rejected and it caused the crumbling of my scientific career.” He looks me with a haze in his eyes, clearly not fond of the memory.

“Dr. Grace, you want me to help you teach students about marine life while still believing that life cannot exist without hydrogen and oxygen, which are the foundational elements of water?” 

“Yup.” He lets out a heavy sigh as if he had been holding his breath.

I roll my eyes and sigh at his one-word answer. Now, it's my turn to lean back into my chair. I cross my arms and give him a puzzled expression, mirroring his seated position.

“My kids have been begging for a unit or at least a single lesson on marine science. I can ramble on and on about stars, planets, rovers, satellites, and rocket launches, but I think my students deserve to learn from a scientist who’s actually experienced in the field of marine biology.” His gaze shifts to his dissertation again. 

I tap my shoes together while thinking of the numerous ways this conversation could go. Best case scenario, this conversation is actually productive and I get to teach middle schoolers about marine life. Worst case scenario, this conversation is actually productive and I get to teach middle schoolers about marine life… with a teacher who’s using me to babysit because he doesn’t believe that life needs water to exist. I finally look up at him and he meets my eyes. I finally relax and reach into my bag, curious as to what the lesson planning would look like if I were to take on the role. 

“Alright, so if I were to do this, what areas of marine biology would the kids be focusing on?” I pull out a small notebook and my favorite pen, waiting for him to talk so that I could take notes. 

“They’re kids, they’ll be interested in anything.” He says, jokingly to lighten the mood. This earns an unamused look from me and he clears his throat to get rid of the awkward silence. 

“Well, the water cycle is the best place to start because that’s the most recent thing I taught them. Then, it would be best to differentiate the ocean from lakes, rivers, and streams. We can briefly touch on freshwater ecosystems, but the main thing would be saltwater ecosystems. Plants first, then invertebrates, fish, birds, and mammals. I’m sure they’d love it if you brought in something like a fossil, some seashells, or even small live critters they can look at.” He seems to be a lot more engaged now. By the way his eyes light up when he talks about his students, anyone could tell that his class was all about making science fun. As I write down his suggestions, a small smile appears on my face. It’s nice to know that he’s the kind of teacher who cares. 

“That's quite a bit of planning, Steph Curry.” I say, jokingly. He laughs at this and brings his foot up to rest on the knee of his other leg. 

“Will you do it?” He asks with a grin. 

“Will I get to bring my own coffee?” I ask with a slight smile, turning to the next page in my notebook.

“Mermaids deserve the best coffee. That’s why Starbucks has one in their logo.” He says, trying to crack another joke. 

“Nope, nope, I don’t think that’s entirely correct.” I say, chuckling and continuing to write things down. 

As I continue writing, a thought pops into my head and I stop writing. I begin tapping my pen on the page, contemplating whether I should ask my next question. 

“Why me?” I ask. 

He looks at me and plants both of his feet on the floor, scooting his chair closer to the table. He intertwines his fingers and sets his hands on the table, leaning forward but not making eye contact. 

“I asked Mondia for a Ph.D-bound grad student to teach my class. I don’t know if you’ve decided on whether to pursue one, but he recommended you because he can see you teaching at a university, or even running your own lab. You have all the potential to do everything I didn’t do, and maybe that makes you more qualified than me to teach my students about a pillar of science that cost me everything in the scientific community when I rejected it. The only thing you lack, according to Modia, is being able to explain your study at different levels of audience intelligence. These kids won't know what a p-value is. You'd have to meet them where they are in order for them to absorb what you're talking about. When we're not poking sea slugs, tell us about your work. What do you question? What do you believe? What did you do about it?” He says, looking me in the eyes. This is the first time that I notice that his eyes are a hypnotizing shade of blue. Feeling self-conscious, I look down at my notebook and begin tapping my pen again. 

“As a former grad student, I already know what you’re thinking. You’ve got imposter syndrome; every grad student’s best friend. You feel like you’re not qualified, you didn’t do enough, or that you just suck at everything. If anything, it keeps you humble when you learn how to control it or know when you need to hear it. Maybe I should have had more of it when I was doing my Ph.D.” He chuckles to himself. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong. I do feel imposter syndrome sometimes, but not to the point where I stop myself from taking certain opportunities. I went through a lot to get to where I am today, especially since both my parents weren’t very familiar with the college systems in the United States. I figured out everything on my own, and I owe it to the bio-tech companies who believed in me enough to fund my research and pay for my tuition for both grad and undergrad. I- I think I owe it to myself too.” I say, beginning to fall deeper in thought. 

“You really are more qualified than me. You’ve got a headstart with everything you’ve done. I hope it takes you to places you could only dream of, and from the looks of it, you’ve brought yourself to some of those places already. I hope my students and I can help prove that to you.”

I look down at my notebook and smile, not wanting to make eye contact. I’m not sure why, but everything he said made me believe that I could do it. I could go for a Ph.D. I could run a lab. I could be a professor. Life had thrown many things my way, but no matter how many times I was hit, I wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

“Thank you, Dr. Grace. That really means a lot, and it's been a pleasure chatting with you.” I say as I retract my pen and close my notebook. I place all of my things in my bag. I also take his dissertation with me, since he might want to set it on fire.

“I’d like your number before you go.” He says out of the blue, his tone seemed like he was asking a question rather than just making a direct request. My cheeks seem to lose their color and then gain color immediately after, the only color being red. I don't need to look in the mirror to know how red I look, I can FEEL myself burning up.

“For lesson planning purposes! I’d like your number for lesson planning purposes, only that!” He says, his cheeks also flushed as he sits up attentively to clarify his request. 

I sift through my bag to find a small stack of post-it notes and my pen. I write my number on the small sheet of paper and stick it on the table. 

“If we’re done here, I want to say that I’ll give teaching a shot and... thank you for believing in me.”

I hold my hand out to shake his, and wait until he accepts the gesture.

Between us exists a wide range of scientific discoveries. From the deepest parts of the ocean to the farthest visible star, it isn't wrong to imagine that we have the entire universe condensed into one simple handshake. Imagine what we could accomplish... together.

Chapter 2: Barnacles

A/N: Fam, I forgot that I have my two graduation ceremonies in less than a week. You know what we do now? We party...

Also, Happy (Late) Mother's Day to anyone who's dated/babysat a man-child.

Warnings: Mentions of cuts and scrapes.

As I watch the waves crash against the rocky shoreline, I’m reminded why I chose to study ecology. Earth has given so much to countless life forms and cradles everyone in her arms. Whether her arms be soil, water, trees, or someone you love, she holds all life near and dear to her heart. As humans, our never-ending search for more has brought us to many unexpected places and circumstance. We built multiple forms of transportation, began growing our own food, engineered new forms of technology, and formed vast cities and civilizations. Our gift of yearning for more is a blessing and a curse, but what if we directed the same energy towards giving our planet the protection she deserves? Earth is a mother first, a planet second. Without her, we are nothing.

I glance at my watch one more time. He’s late. Pillar Point Harbor isn’t the easiest place to get to, but it’s one of the only places that my California Fish and Wildlife collection permit allows me to collect critters without getting questioned by a park ranger or harbor master. Looking around, I see him walking his bike to the nearby beach parking lot, drenched in sweat and looking like he had been harassed by a fleet of geese. Seeing him so exhausted made my heart sink to my stomach, he really does care about his kids. I leave the rocky shoreline and sprint towards the parking lot where he locks his bike on one of the railings. I have my backpack on with most of my equipment, notebooks, and field guides, so I definitely feel graceful and light as a feather. I'm practically out of breath when I reach him. 

“Dr. Grace! Did.. Did you BIKE all the way here?! On a SATURDAY!?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. I take off my yellow bucket hat to allow the sweat on my forehead to evaporate.

“What’s- What’s… Sorry, let me catch my breath.” He takes in a deep breath and exhales before clearing his throat. 

“What’s so special about Saturday?” He asks, unclipping his helmet and placing it on one of the handlebars of his bike. 

“It’s noon. That’s when the lunch rush starts for all of the nearby seafood restaurants! Half Moon Bay gets super packed around this time, and riding a bike in the middle of all of it is like a death wish!” I say, dusting off my hat in frustration.

“Aww c’mon, I made it here in one piece. Besides, I took the paths through the neighborhoods. It wasn’t too bad!”

I finally put my hat back on and jam my hands into the front pockets of my windbreaker, not happy with the idea of him having to swerve between cars or around people walking their dogs just to get to the harbor. California has some of the craziest and most impatient drivers the world has ever seen. 

“Sorry I’m late.” he adds, sounding slightly embarrassed. He puts his hands in the pockets of his yellow rain coat and looks down at his shoes. He leans back on his heels, rolls onto his toes, then lets his feet fall flat once more. 

“That’s okay. As long as you’re here and not hurt, that’s all that matters.” I readjust my backpack straps and begin to turn to walk back to the rocky shoreline. He follows behind me in silence, allowing me to lead the way.

We walk in silence for a few minutes before we reach areas of rocks with little pools of water. The water levelsfluctuate with the waves, but they aren’t tide pools. They’re just crevices between large rocks that hold enough water for tiny hermit crabs, snails, and sea stars to wander into. 

“I don’t have a car.” Dr. Grace says out of the blue. My back is toward him as I scan the horizon like I had done a million times before. I turn to him, his hands still in his pockets and directing his gaze anywhere but towards my eyes. I walk a few steps closer to him, being careful not to fall between the rocks. 

“Me neither. I don’t even have my driver’s license.” I shrug.

At my response, he finally looks up at me to meet my eyes. Those blue eyes seem to pierce into my soul every time I catch a glimpse of them. They’re beautiful, but in a really weird way that I can’t exactly put into words. I shake the thought away while I wait for him to say something. 

“Really? Why not?” He asks, sounding surprised at my confession.

“Never needed to. I’ve taken the bus for elementary, middle school, high school, and all of college. Bus lines are everywhere and our student ID cards wave all bus fares. I think BART and MUNI are free too, or at least cost very little for students.” I say, trying to make the atmosphere less dense. I’ve always been fond of public transportation. Getting to see the same people going to the same places brings a sense of security when you work in a field that’s constantly changing. I’ve watched bus-riders grow up and watch some grow old. There are bus lines I’ve ridden for so long that certain older folks are no longer regulars; the first bus rides without them were always tough. Taking public transportation doesn’t always guarantee a timely arrival to a destination, but nothing in life is ever guaranteed. What I care about the most is being able to slow down and be surrounded by people who aren’t in too much of a hurry. 

“If you’d like to join me for another collection, maybe we can commute here together?” I offer. His eyebrows raise at my response and a small smile forms on his face as I continue talking. 

“It’s a lot of walking and transferring to different buses, but it’s much safer than biking.” 

“I wouldn’t refuse an option that entails less road rage and angry dogs.” He says.

~~~

“Alright, time to plan our lesson for next week.” I sit down on a small cushion I brought to avoid sitting on pointy or jagged rocks. 

Dr. Grace tries to get comfortable on the extra cushion I brought him, often having to readjust his seat due to the uneven rocks beneath us. He tries to sit up straight, but ends up leaning forward, backwards, or to the sides. He finally settles on a rock that is mostly flat and crosses his legs, trying to contain his limbs to the surface area of the cushion. As he gets himself situated, I pull out the same notebook and pen from our first meeting and flip to a checklist:

- Background check approved by middle school ✓

- Create lesson presentation formats ✓

- Add more money to extra bus pass just in case ✓

- Feed surviving hermit crabs from experiment ✓

- Check water pump in lab saltwater system ✓

- Lesson planning and possible specimen collections with Dr. Grace on Saturday

Not the best check-list, but things could be worse. I plan to add a check to the last task before the end of today. I look up at Dr. Grace who had begun poking at small barnacles on the rocks beneath us. One flakes off the rock and he picks it up to inspect it. 

“Oh uh, this has been dead for a while, right? If not, I don’t think he’s lookin’ too jazzed.” He asks, hoping that he didn’t accidentally kill something. I smile to myself at his question. I can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood and make things less uptight. After all, the entire purpose of scheduling this meeting was to create a timeline of lessons for the next month, but a little fun here and there never hurt anybody. 

“Yes, Dr. Grace. That barnacle has been dead for a significant amount of time.” I say with a soft laugh. 

“Tides change depending on the season, and even depending on the time of day. Sometimes, barnacle juveniles will settle on surfaces that are only fully submerged for a certain amount of time. When the water levels fluctuate, some barnacles have less access to water, causing them to dry up.” I say, looking for one of my field guides in my backpack, which are laminated flyers with scientific illustrations of common marine invertebrates found on the California coast. There's also ones for common marine mammals and plants. It’s so nerdy that it’s painful. 

“What you have there is a California barnacle, scientifically known as Megabalanus californicus. Actually, you just have the remains of a California barnacle. What you’re holding is basically its house. Our little friend has moved on to the great beyond.” I say, looking back and forth between Dr. Grace’s hands and the field guide. 

“Do you think it had friends, a family, maybe plans for the weekend?” Dr. Grace asks, holding the barnacle towards the sun, trying to get a better look at its hollow center. His face seems to have a glow that could only happen at the beach. It’s that glow that comes from a mix of sunlight, fog, and sea spray. It is only now that I notice his crooked glasses, the stubble on his chin, and the way his hair seems to dance every time the wind picks up. He seems genuinely interested in the barnacle for someone who rejected the idea of water being necessary to support life.

“I’d like to think so.” I say softly, admiring his sense of curiosity. 

“What do you truly believe (Y/N)? If you ‘think’ you believe that, tell me why.” He says, putting the barnacle remains down. I stop to look down and think about the life that had once existed within the hollow ring of plates. 

“It’s not alive anymore, but it served a purpose. Barnacles are filter feeders and help remove bacteria and small particles from the water. Without them, the ocean would definitely be in its own equivalent of air pollution.” I say, trying to fully answer his question. 

“Okay, okay, you have the science part down, but what about what you think?” He says, making a gesture for me to stop talking and keep thinking. 

“What? Barnacles are one of the key filter feeders within the ocean, but sometimes they dry up after establishing themselves in a spot that isn’t always exposed to water. What more do I need to say? I’m just stating the facts.” 

“Sure, sure, but dig deep into that ‘purpose’ part that you mentioned. I’m sure there’s a story there that you can connect it to. I know my kids, and you’ll lose them like that *he snaps his fingers* if you just state facts.” He says. 

The sharp sound of him snapping his fingers was surprisingly loud. I guess you have to be pretty good at that if you want a bunch of chatty middle schoolers to listen to you.

“One time, during my sophomore year, myself and two other undergrads were helping a master’s student collect six-rayed sea stars.” I smile as I begin to mentally transport myself to that painfully-early morning. 

“It was around two in the morning, which was the perfect time of day for low tide in Monterey, and we were basically having to climb and slide over wet rocks covered in barnacles just to find the right sea stars. Everything was done in the dark, which added an extra layer of anxiety. The waves crashing against the rocks didn’t help either. I think that was the longest time I had spent in the rocky intertidal.” 

I pause to think about why I brought up this story in the first place. Oh yeah, the barnacles. 

“Cara, our grad student, told us to avoid wet rocks with less traction, and a majority of the best rocks to step on that wouldn’t send you slipping and falling into the swirling pools were rocks covered in dead barnacles. I remember how many cuts and scrapes I had on my hands and knees after we got back to our campsite, and I wasn’t too happy about using up all of my silly Minecraft band-aids. Then, I felt a bit guilty for being annoyed.” 

Dr. Grace scooted his cushion close to me, holding his chin and seeming to watch the imaginary gears turning in my head. 

“Why? Why the guilt, (Y/N)?” he asked in a hushed voice, as if we were speaking about something sacred, something only we know. 

“It’s because those barnacles aren’t alive anymore. They existed for a moment, fulfilled their role in their ecosystem, and died due to changes in the tide, but what they left behind continues to help others. It’s because of them that I didn’t eat shit on that sea star collection. It’s because of them that I didn’t fall behind when Cara was trekking over the rocks like it was nothing. It’s because of them that a lucky six-rayed sea star I spotted was able to hide from Cara and avoid being collected for an experiment; I didn’t have the heart to take that one, so I let it go about its morning. In some odd way, I felt that the perished barnacles’ last service to the world was to give someone like me a place to keep my balance and save me the trouble of getting hurt. They do the same for sea stars, crabs, and anemones; they protect. Sometimes, we don’t have a choice in how things end, but there will always be something left behind that makes you say ‘thank you’.” 

For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of the waves and gulls circling nearby fishing boats. Dr. Grace looks at me, his fingers still holding his chin as he stares me down, as if trying to figure out something specific. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out before pursing his lips together and adjusting his beanie, his glasses slightly moving with the motion of his hat. 

“Was that good?” I ask, starting to feel self-conscious about rambling. 

“Yup.” He says bluntly, but a sniffle comes from his nose. 

“C’mon, Dr. Grace, you said to delve deeper into the ‘purpose' part!” I cross my arms as my cheeks turn red, starting to feel embarrassed. I get up from my cushion and walk closer to the edge of the large rock we’re currently sitting on, closer to the ocean. I stop before I get too close to the edge and allow myself to take comfort in the space between us. 

“I don’t know if you know this, but you have something that not a lot of scientists have.” He says. 

“(Y/N), the world of science is full with people who constantly want to be ‘first’. They want to be the first to discover something, create a patent, or publish their work. It’s always a race to get to the top and stay there, but you… you don’t strike me as someone with that kind of mentality. You genuinely care, and that’s something that my students will definitely feel.” 

“How do you know?” I ask in a soft voice as I pick at my fingernails and keep my back turned to him.

“I know my students. Whatever it is you just laid out right here, it’s something I certainly don’t got.” At this, I turn my head around to look at him. With a sigh, I begin to walk back towards where I had been sitting, but stay standing. I look down at him with a soft smile. 

“Thanks, but you make it sound like it’s a disease, Dr. Grace,” I say, jokingly reaching out a finger towards his forehead.

“Woah, woah, I don’t want it! You can keep it!” He says, leaning back. 

“Alright, alright. Time to get back to business.” I say as I turn my focus to my pen and notebook. 

~~~

“For the first week are you absolutely, positively certain that you can’t bring in critters just yet?” He asks, trying his best to give me puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m more than absolutely, positively certain. If we collect anything today, they would have to quarantine in the university’s saltwater system for at least a week. We can’t have any little specimens dying on the first day of lessons.” I say writing down more lesson plans for the first week. 

"That actually happened during one of my classes in undergrad, " I add, continuing to write and keeping my head down.

"What happened?"

"Long story short, a crab was crushed by a rock during transportation. I heard that the professor for that class flushed the poor thing down the toilet."

"Geez, not even a eulogy? That's not going to end well with my students. I can already see the tears in my classroom if that were to happen." He rubs his temples at the stressful thought before talking again.

“Okay, but can we decide what days you’ll be in to come by? I teach science on Monday through Thursday. Three seventh-grade classes in the morning and three sixth-grade classes in the afternoon. Since sixth grade chose marine bio, you’d only have to deal with them from one o’clock to three thirty, so that’s... about forty-five minutes for each class, excluding passing-periods.” He says, counting on his fingers, doing the math in his head. 

“Well, I’m definitely free most afternoons, but I think it would be best if all three classes get through the lessons for the day, and then I can bring the critters over after school if any of them would like to stick around for it. I can bring things like sea shells, dried eelgrass blades, and fossils for the lessons, so there's still an interactive element.”

“That’s probably best. I don’t think having little sea creatures outside of the ocean or a proper salt water system for an entire afternoon would be very wise. It would also be great to not have anything die, especially in front of the kids.” He says, picking at another barnacle. 

There is a beat of silence before Dr. Grace speaks up. 

“You're really weird.” He says, almost in a monotone voice. Is he aware that he said that out loud?

“Excuse me?!” I ask, my eyes widen as my cheeks turn a familiar shade of red. My grip on my pen tightens and I start to feel a tumbling feeling in my stomach. If he's so interested in stars, those will be the only thing he sees when I smack him across the head.

“I don't understand how you handle being in a scientific field like this.” He says, looking at the waves and beyond the horizon. 

“It’s no secret that I messed everything up. I love being in the classroom, but I could’ve done so much more as a scientist if I hadn’t been so arrogant. I wasn’t lying when I said that you’re different from all of those older scientists. For some reason, I don’t understand why. Why are you in such a competitive field with little to no interest in making it to the top or being the best?” He finally turns to look at me, his glasses slightly sliding off his nose. I swear, those blue eyes of his are going to be the death of me, either by giving me a heart attack or simply being blinded by how bright they are.

I think for a moment, and remember something I had learned from my AP literature teacher from high school. 

“Well, there’s this African proverb that says, ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.’ I take that with me everywhere.”

“I thought you liked working alone. Didn’t Mondia assign you teach my students so that you could branch out and be less of a hermit?” 

“Yes, but I prefer to work behind the scenes. I believe in inspiring others, hoping that they’ll take what I’ve done and do it better than me or use it as a crutch to work on something completely different. If a study of mine can inspire another, that’s enough for me to consider it a success. I don’t need to be first, I just want to help.” I say, loosening the grip on my pen. 

“Like the barnacles?” He asks.

“What?” 

“The barnacles. You said that they were still able to support other forms of life despite being dead as a doorknob.” He says, as he picks at another barnacle next to him. 

“Are you calling me a barnacle?” I ask, pretending to sound offended. 

“No, not really… okay maybe, but you want your work to mean something even when you’ve finished it. You want someone to build on top of your work and ‘do it better’ than you, or generate a completely different idea from what you’ve already done.” He says, scooting himself and his cushion closer to mine. 

I lean back slightly as he inches forward. Why is he so interested in how I think? 

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, starting to wonder if I should have brought pepper spray… or another copy of his dissertation. 

“It’s the most ass-backwards but fascinating thing I’ve ever witnessed.” He says blatantly. 

“Language, Dr. Grace!” I say, trying to imitate Marjorie’s voice from the day we first met in the teachers’ lounge. 

“Fair enough, but I’m just Ryland outside of the school gates. Got that, you barnacle?” He asks, looking over his glasses and pointing a finger at me. 

“I thought I was a mermaid!” I swat away his hand before adjusting my yellow bucket hat.

This guy sucks.

~~~

- Background check approved by middle school ✓

- Create lesson presentation formats ✓

- Add more money to extra bus pass just in case ✓

- Feed surviving hermit crabs from experiment ✓

- Check water pump in lab saltwater system ✓