With a fire in my eyes, I began searching for a lab. I've always wanted to do research since learning about my grandfather's time studying crop genetics in Bangladesh. As a university student, I knew now was the perfect time to begin this journey. However, what seemed like an easy task turned out to be a ruthless feat. Between the multitude of topics studied and the countless emails sent to seemingly no avail, it felt nearly impossible to get my foot in the door. With a stroke of luck (and plenty of help from my advisor and CURO), a professor found potential in me. We met up, discussed my career goals, and set a start date in August of 2024!
The first week was daunting. Before beginning any research project, I had to learn the basics of what it meant to be a scientist. Many people think of movie stereotypes when imagining a biochemistry lab: mixing chemicals and working with your hands. However, the reality was far less exciting. My professor and graduate student handed me a stack of papers focusing on membrane proteins, and I was instructed to read them whenever possible.
To be blunt, it was incredibly hard. I didn't understand half of the things I was reading, let alone what it should mean to me. It wasn't a great feeling since every paper I would read and discuss with my graduate student seemed to confuse my already new understanding of the topic. This is where mentorship came in handy. My graduate student helped me understand biochemistry terminology and to read literature like a scientist. From picking out important details to analyzing cartoon models, I was slowly understanding how to read a biochemistry paper. Little did I know, I had learned my first set of skills. Even though many people consider reading to be intuitive, the lessons I learned about academic literature, and specifically biochemistry literature, were more valuable than I would've ever expected.
Next up were the practical skills. For biochemistry, the skillset necessary is broad. As you may expect, it takes elements of microbiology, cellular biology, and chemistry to tackle some of the most demanding questions science has to offer. Since the project I would soon undertake involved membrane proteins, I focused heavily on protein expression and isolation. I would read the protocols, write down notes, and then attempt an experiment the next day. For the first couple weeks, however, it seemed like anything I did would go down in flames. I would go through my lab notebook and double-check, even triple-check, my work. But, as with any learning process, practice makes perfect (or at least progress). Towards the end of the semester, I was finally able to work independently!
Up until this point, I had mainly been doing protocols to help with side projects. This would mainly consist of creating new plasmid stocks or collecting protein to help another graduate student in their research. However, there comes a time in any scientist's journey to slowly take up things for themselves. Now that I can run a majority of protocols without direct supervision, my mentors deemed appropriate for me to begin working on a real and more independent project. At this moment, I was confident to a fault. After perfecting my techniques with various protocols, I thought I could do anything. However, as first-times always go, it was not pretty.
The project I began working on involved collecting proteins, purifying them, and then analyzing them for homology and mechanisms. The goal was to elucidate how a certain family of proteins functioned, which means working with various different proteins in general. Though this small study would play a role in my graduate student's greater research topic, it was an opportunity to really get my hands dirty with research. I thought to myself, "No biggie, you've worked for a semester already while helping the graduate students in the lab."
After receiving a stock of the plasmid that contained the first protein of interest, I began working to express it to get a nice batch to work with. Almost immediately I struggled with this first step. Inserting the gene into the bacteria was more difficult than I anticipated. I went through my notebook to see if I had messed something up in my protocol. Nope. I tried redoing the insertion with a fresh batch of cells and plates. Still nothing. This is when I learned a pivotal lesson: it's okay to continue asking questions. Just because I was done with my training semester, it doesn't mean I will never encounter challenges or make mistakes I don't know how to fix. That's the real beauty of science! Asking questions is the name of the game, not the obstacle to dodge.
So, after looking at the plasmid my protein was struggling to transform, we discovered that it contained a mutation that prevented its survival on selective plates. Had I not asked for assistance, I don't think I ever would have figured this out. On top of that, I learned even more about troubleshooting certain protocols and how to go about determining a new course of action when issues arise.
As of the writing of this story, I near my first major milestone in my study. After working towards isolating my protein from the membranes of E. coli cells, I was able to run a western blot on them. The purpose of this blot was simply to check if my protein was present. The feeling of anticipation was electric, and adrenaline pulsed through my system as I prepared to let it develop overnight. The following day, this is what I saw...
With the faint, yet present bands on my western blot, I had finally confirmed that I had my protein of interest! This was the first big milestone of my research with many more that have yet to come. With this, I've become a step closer to understanding the nuances of this novel protein. If it were not for the help of those I met during my research journey, I wouldn't be here today. The work I'm doing with the potential of helping scientists and common folk alike is all thanks to the resources offered to me through UGA.