I was the first and only person in
my family to graduate from high
school and pursue higher educa-
tion. My mother only went to el-
ementary school and my father had
no schooling at all. They worked
on a small farm inherited from my
grandparents, growing potatoes,
cassava, oranges, passion fruit, and
other crops. I helped out when I was
not in school.
My parents always had a close re-
lationship with nature, something
they learned from my grandparents
and passed down to me. For exam-
ple, they knew the exact time of year
to plant or pick certain fruits, when
there would be a long rainy or dry
season, which insects frequented
the plants, and which ones could be
dangerous when threatened. This
was the main reason I became in-
terested in biology.
In college, I joined a series of labs to gain research ex-
perience, started to publish papers, and attended scientific
meetings. But my interest in pursuing a career as a scientist
began to wane after I realized my research was not helping
poor people like my parents. I also felt out of place in most
classes. As a gay, Black student from a rural community, I
did not see myself in my professors, most of whom were
straight and white and spoke with a different accent.
The “top-down” instruction heightened my sense of
alienation: The professors would talk and we, the students,
would listen and take notes. Even if I studied for several
hours per day, I fell behind peers who came from private
schools. The feeling of not belonging circled in my head. I
sometimes thought about giving up.
My instructor’s request that I share my knowledge of the
mangangava bee changed my perspective. She saw that
tapping into my personal experiences would help me graspthe scientific concepts. No other
professor had shown that kind of
sensitivity, which helped me realize
the value of enlisting students’ own
knowledge and perspectives.
I decided to switch my major to
focus on science education. As part
of that program, I met a professor
who came from a town close to
where I grew up. I asked whether
I could intern with her and was
pleased to discover that she, too,
was interested in traditional knowl-
edge. Under her guidance, I cre-
ated a book that taught elementary
school students about the impor-
tance of insects, telling a story that
wove together scientific concepts
and traditional knowledge.
Both instructors made it clear
they valued what I’d learned from
my family and from my personal
experiences on the farm. They also
had identities that resonated with me, as one was trans-
gender and the other was Black. They helped me see I did
have a place in higher education and that I didn’t need to
hide who I truly am.
I’m now a master’s student in education, working on a
project that explores the intersection between science and
traditional knowledge using a form of poetry that’s popular
in northeastern Brazil. I don’t think I’d be here today if I
hadn’t crossed paths with those two instructors. We need
more educators and scientists like them—people who can
serve as role models and know that the best way to nurture
new scientists is to allow students to be themselves. jAnderson Eduardo-Santos is a master’s student at the University of
São Paulo, Ribeirão Preto. He also works as a science teacher at a public
elementary school. Do you have an interesting career story to share?
Send it to [email protected].“The best way to nurture new
scientists is to allow
students to be themselves.”
No need to hide
G
rowing up on a farm in northeastern Brazil, I learned from my parents about the large bees
that frequented our passion fruit crop—mangangava, we called them. But in college, when
I gave a presentation about those bees, I didn’t mention their familiar name; instead I used
formal taxonomic terms when describing their adaptations for pollinating. I was afraid of
being judged for expressing my personal knowledge in a science class. But when the instruc-
tor pressed me to tell the class whether I’d seen the bees myself and what I called them, my
views—and my whole career trajectory—began to change. I realized my background was an asset,
and that my calling was to help educate others like me.By Anderson Eduardo-Santos
ILLUSTRATION: ROBERT NEUBECKER234 14 JANUARY 2022 • VOL 375 ISSUE 6577 science.org SCIENCE
WORKING LIFE