As an aspiring ecologist, my feelings about the perception of my profession vary. At first, the little narcissistic voice we all possess wants my peers to see a future committed to scientific research as a noble pursuit of knowledge – an idea that sounds pretty flashy to me. Then, I realize others might picture my lab coat-clad species as investigators peering down at the world from atop some pedestal. The great index finger of humility (read: reality) then flicks me off of said pedestal and I’m left with only humble musings on how I would ideally like scientists to be valued by the general public. I want everyone to get excited about the time-tested scientific process of making observations, asking questions and disseminating discoveries to every ear. Above all, I want everyone to recognize that they too are scientists.

You embrace your scientist alter-ego when you ask ‘why’ and ‘how’ questions. Why does Knoxville’s infamous humidity increase the heat index, making the dog days of summer feel even more unbearable? How is it possible for beverages to be completely calorie free? How do I get this stain out of my favorite white shirt? Will rephrasing this status update win me a few more likes or retweets?

See! Caught you! You’re a scientist. True, simply asking these questions doesn’t earn you the title in which I take so much pride. With every wondering thought, there is a brief moment of contemplation that makes all the difference. You can question why it’s hard to read texts on your iPhone screen while wearing polarized sunglasses, but throwing up your hands with a simple ‘who knows’ won’t get you very far. Instead, maybe you push your sunglasses back onto your head and ask Google to explain this phenomenon. Or maybe you ask a friend – also known as your research collaborator – for his or her insight. It is the path of inquiry leading to action that validates the laboratory sitting on top of your neck.

In my opinion, the term ‘scientist’ has become far too restricted in its application. If the doodles in my lab notebook and the mindless melodies that I quietly whistle on my way to class can be considered art and music, the minor discoveries that come from everyday inquiries and ‘hypothesis’ testing should definitely count as science.

My seventh-grade science teacher said my kitchen was a laboratory. Although that declaration blew my mind, I’d now hazard to stretch her remark a little further by proposing that your experimental ingredients can prove far more abstract. We scientists, under a more restricted meaning of the term, simply ask more focused questions – questions that are best answered through long-term projects, fancy equipment and more often than not, a lot of troubleshooting and speculation.

Science is identifying a problem and devising a solution. Science is asking a question and digging your way forward towards the answer, usually with a bit of backtracking and asking for directions in between. Science is completing a puzzle or offering society another piece to add to the big picture. I’ve found that any definition of this noble endeavor, when broken down, just as accurately describes the essence of life. Science, in its beautiful simplicity, is an integral part of our lives whether we recognize it or not. I’ll take that revelation over a flashy career on a pedestal any day of the week.

So allow me, dear reader, to talk science with you every Monday. It’ll be the kind of science that will strike home, and my results will be relevant to your question-asking adventures. It’s the beginning of a spectacular collaboration.

Kenna Rewcastle is a senior in College Scholars. She can be reached at [email protected].