For a long time, my undergraduate experience felt pretty standard. Lectures, exams, and late-night study sessions fuelled by caffeine and a healthy dose of anxiety. The goal was simple: get good grades, get my degree, and hopefully figure out what to do with my life somewhere along the way. Research? That seemed like something for serious, bookish professors in tweed jackets, not for me.

As an undergrad, I stumbled upon a rare opportunity: the chance to lead my own solo research project. I knew I had to take it. The only thing standing in my way was finding a supervisor.

I mustered up the courage to approach a professor whose class I was acing. But my first idea? Rejected. I shot him a quick email with a new one. Again, he turned it down, saying it was too basic. Not one to give up, I spent the next two days completely revamping my concept, determined to make it impossible to say no to. On the third day, I knocked on his door.

He didn’t just agree to supervise my project—he was genuinely excited about it. But our excitement was only half the battle. The proposal still had to be approved by the research committee. The real work was just beginning.

My topic wasn’t something you’d expect: fragrances and the psychology behind how we perceive them. The core question was this: Does a fragrance smell “masculine” or “feminine” on its own, or is our perception shaped by the label on the bottle? We were going to put it to the test.

I poured my heart into that proposal. Worked tirelessly to get every detail right, from the methodology to the ethical considerations. Then, we submitted it and all we could do was wait. The days that followed were a blur of checking my inbox every five minutes. I must have refreshed the page a thousand times that whole month.

Finally, the email arrived 3 weeks later. I held my breath as I opened it, my heart pounding in my chest. And there it was, the word I’d been waiting for: “Approved!” I had gotten the finding to conduct my first ever research as a 21 y/o undergraduate! All the rejections, the late nights, and the what-ifs faded away. My solo research project was officially happening.

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The Process: From Labels to Olfactory Blindness

The first few weeks were a crash course in humility. My job began with a literature review, which felt like drowning in a sea of academic papers filled with jargon I barely understood. My initial drafts of research summaries were clunky and uninspired. I felt the sharp sting of imposter syndrome—what was I doing here? I was a student, not a researcher.

With my professor’s guidance, however, things started to click. My creative freedom was immense. I got to design the entire experiment: creating a list of fragrances, sourcing samples, and developing a survey to capture people’s perceptions. The coolest part was the “blind” test, where we stripped away all the marketing and just had participants smell vials to categorize the scents. This project was a thrilling intellectual detective story that taught me how to turn a simple idea into a formal study.

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The Unexpected Lessons: More Than Just Scents and Data

I won’t lie, I don’t see myself pursuing a career in fragrance studies. But that’s the beauty of this experience. The real learning wasn’t about the topic itself; it was about the process. This journey helped me in ways I never could have anticipated as an undergrad.

1. The End of Passive Learning In lectures, you absorb information. In research, you generate it. My project forced me to become an active participant in my education. I learned to ask questions, challenge assumptions, and critically evaluate everything I read. It taught me that a “right answer” isn’t always something you find in a textbook; sometimes, you have to build it yourself through careful investigation.

2. Building Real, Transferable Skills My time as a research assistant was a masterclass in skills that will last far beyond my degree. I learned advanced time management, juggling the project with my regular coursework. I honed my communication skills, both in writing the research paper and in presenting our findings. Most importantly, I learned how to deal with frustration and embrace the trial-and-error process, a lesson that is invaluable in any career.

3. Gaining Confidence and a Professional Identity Before this project, I was just a student in a lecture hall. After it, I was a researcher. I had a tangible body of work I could point to. I could talk to professionals in my field with newfound confidence, not just as a student, but as a colleague. It gave me a glimpse into what my future could look like and solidified my passion for the field in a way that no exam ever could.

4. The Power of Mentorship My professor went from being a distant figure at the front of a lecture hall to a mentor who genuinely invested in my growth. He pushed me to be better, celebrated my small victories, and offered honest, constructive feedback. This one-on-one guidance was an invaluable part of the experience, and it’s something I’ll carry with me long after I graduate.

For any student hesitant about taking the leap, my advice is simple: just do it. Research is more than just a line on your resume. It’s a chance to step out of the classroom, get your hands dirty, and discover not only a new field of knowledge but also a newfound confidence in your own abilities. It’s a chance to stop being just a student and start being a scholar. And that, I’ve learned, is a feeling worth all the initial struggles and late nights.

~m <33