When It Works, It Really Works

Two weeks before his thesis was due, he had nothing. No data, no results, no conclusion. After eleven months of setting up experiments, preparing solutions and media, learning techniques and adjusting protocols, it was as if he were starting from scratch. "It's easy to give up unless you really believe it's what you want to do," says Se-jin Lee of his biochemistry research experience.

A week later everything fell into place. One thesis a la mode. The thin Lowell House resident had conquered centrifuges, petridishes, SDS protein separation gels, and some bad breaks to close a thoroughly successful undergraduate career in basic biological research.

But it's been a struggle. "Whatever can go wrong, will." Se-jin believes. "You've got to keep telling yourself today is the day it will work. And then you've got to get incredibly lucky." Is he superstitious? "There's not time for prayers," he chuckles.

For two years he took the basic premed torture tests: the physics, the organic chemistry, the intro biology. He knew the results, the aims, the procedures of science, but he had no idea what lay behind the forests of glassware, behind the horn-rimmed glasses of the Nobel Laureate.

He was just "another person in the crowd." He found the faculty unapproachable and the department providing little information for prospective researchers. But he knew, even without any experience, that he had an interest in the lab. So Se-jin took the matter into his own hands. "Nobody realizes how easy it is to get into research here," he says. "I had no idea." So he arbitrarily called one professor at the medical school whose work sounded vaguely interesting. "It never struck me that anyone would have me in their lab," he confesses. But once in, he was hooked.

It was a small lab: one professor, one post-doctoral candidate, one technician, and one Se-jin. A new home. "When you're a grad student it's important to be in the mainstream, to be in a high powered lab," he notes. "When you're an undergrad, it's important to get into a lab where the head person cares about you, where they are supportive and encouraging. My professor never closed his office door. He was constantly wandering about the lab. I was immediately a part of the work, which is more important than being with a name professor." Words to the young. "If the professor is a big shot he has more money, more space, more workers, and less time for you," Se-jin continues. "If I had to do it over again I would choose the same situation," he says without hesitation.

Even with all the technical disappointments, with the contaminated experiments, with the mysterious dying cells, even with the super-sensitive equipment that must be pampered like an old Buick, the mathematician's son has had some fun. Basic research is time consuming, lonely, chancy, and incredibly discouraging. But Se-jin entered it as if slipping into a warm bath.

Even if it's part time. This year, Se-jin roamed the country for medical school interviews. Meanwhile, he played teaching fellow in Biochem 10, the introductory Biochemistry course, while spending every spare moment in the lab. "I did absolutely zero work in other courses," he laughs. But he did enough to get accepted at Johns Hopkins Medical school where he will pursue both an MD and a Ph.D. His research will continue on viruses, this time animal tumor viruses, under the direction of Dr. Dan Nathans, 1976 Nobel Laureate. That's seven more years of school, including summers, and then...more research.

Why go to medical school when he wants to work in a lab? "I think medical school has more to offer than just teaching you to practice medicine. My education there will contribute to the type of researcher I am," he comments. As part of his MD-Ph.D program at Hopkins, Se-jin will be exempt from tuition in addition to receiving a $5,000 stipend each year.

His thesis had the ominous title of "Altered Patterns of Gene Expression P4 Mutants Unable to Regulate their P2 Helpers." He studied the relationship between two types of viruses where one helps the other to survive when they attack the same cell. How one helps the other, which genes are necessary for functions, and these are controlled: those are the compelling problems. And Se-jin waxes eloquent when listing his experiments and results--like a child sharing newly-learned multiplication tables.

"Biochemistry is a unique undergraduate major. Working in some dinky lab, in some dinky building you can make a contribution to the field. An English or a History major has the disadvantage of trying to compete with critics and writers who know so much more than they do. In experimental science where the professor does no work at the bench, the actual contributions are made by his students. The work I do is in no way inferior to that of a graduate student or Ph.D.," Se-jin says. "It may take me longer and I may not see the interesting results as quickly," he says modestly, "but my work is just as worthwhile."

His abilities simply burst into view under the difficult academic program he set for himself. "In terms of Biochemistry, I don't think I could have gotten this kind of education anywhere else. The education is strong and the research opportunities are better than anywhere else. You have the Biolabs, the Medical School, the many hospitals in Boston, and MIT if you want research," he smiles. With a little pushing he found his niche. "I only regret I didn't start research earlier. It's better to find out if you enjoy it early even if it's not for you," adds the Lawrenceville, N.J. native.

"I just find it interesting he enthuses. "And I don't define success by getting a Nobel prize or by receiving a faculty position at Harvard. Success in biochemistry is doing what you're interested in doing." He doesn't have any pretense his research will get easier from here on, "but when it works, it really works."