“I'm sending along a little light reading material for you to begin reading. Two of these are methods type papers. The other is on an area of research of particular interest to my lab.”

I received this email from professor Craig Ellermeier a week before I embarked on the five-week summer research program Secondary Student Training Program (SSTP) at the University of Iowa. “Light reading,” as it turns out, translated into two hours each on three different microbiology papers. I curled up on a couch and cried internally after realizing that I would have to look up every other word with Google.

Little did I know that this would set the tone of the program. Outside of lab, I lived in a residence hall and bonded with fellow SSTP students. But from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. on weekdays, I worked on a research project under the guidance of my professor and lab mates, struggling to adjust to life inside a lab.

On the first day of lab, I got completely lost more than once. My lab mates, who ranged from college students to middle-aged adults, looked at me curiously when I almost managed to wander into a lab next door (a sense of direction is not my forte).

My lab mates were friendly, but this was somewhat offset by the fact that most had conducted research for years. I got to witness this gap first hand when the lab member nicknamed “T” mentioned I would practice “streaking.”

“Say that again?” I carefully asked.

Streaking, as T explained with a laugh, involved creating a smooth zigzag of lines on gel-like medium used to grow bacterial cultures. While I watched T grip a thin wooden stick and deftly move it across the medium’s surface, I was reminded of my days in an art studio. It’s just like painting, I thought, gaining confidence.

T instructed me as I positioned my own streaking stick in hand, determined to mimic her smooth glide over the medium. But alas, my traitorous hand had other ideas. I watched the gel turn into a rugged wasteland as the wood either skimmed the surface or dug in too violently, resulting in jagged lines.

With streaking as Item One, I could keep a running list of my struggles. I quickly learned that when T had first told me to write down “everything” in my lab journal, she meant EVERYTHING, from the steps of a DNA cloning method to the location of the alcohol (bottom cabinet, to the right, underneath my lab bench). Tragically, I also only realized a week into the program that the first two days had not consisted of learning random genetic engineering techniques, but had instead been relevant to my project.

During that first week I also got the distinct feeling that everyone was constantly watching me (they weren’t). Every time I used a micropipette, I tried to mimic the machinelike efficiency of my lab mates — and failed miserably.

I couldn’t laugh off everything, however. The first week of the program was one of the most challenging weeks of my life. Equipped with only interest, intelligence and Ms. Cochrum’s freshman biology course, I worked side by side with a professor who had devoted his life to this subject.

The program was no high school science class. Rather than follow pre-planned labs, I needed to fully understand my professor’s research and carry out my own experiments. I could not double-check steps with classmates; instead, I asked my lab mates questions and realized the extent of their knowledge. Surrounded by experienced researchers, I could not help but feel pressured to keep up with them — an impossible feat.

All of this contributed to a sense of inferiority and uncertainty. Logically, I knew I should have confidence in myself, but it took a week of adjustment and hours of venting to ever-patient friends before my discomfort faded away.

It’s safe to say that I made progress. By the end of the program, I had no shame in “bothering” my lab group. I stopped rotating between my lab mates whenever I asked a question and instead inflicted my presence on whoever was nearby.

All too soon after I’d gotten to know my lab mates, the time for goodbyes arrived. Instead of a group photo and handshake, as I saw with a few research groups nearby, we went for selfies and hugs. And as I look back on my time in the research lab, I can laugh off my initial struggles.

I finally felt that I belonged in the lab.