PEWS Science Harvest Intern Reflection

I spent the last year as a science communications intern for PEWS (Public Engagement with Science).

The job? Plan and prepare experiments, supplies, and a brochure for a monthly set-up at the Northside Farmer’s Market. The goal? Extend approachable science to children (and in some cases, adults as well).

Did I include within my brochure books on each topic available at the Cincinnati Public Library System? Yes, yes, I did. Always the bookish girl at heart.

But that same girl loved science. Except she didn’t know that about herself.

I spent years knowing I was “good at math” but “didn’t like it,” and was “bad at science.”

Qualitative researchers spent years proving that their research was scientific every bit as much as the quantitative elements. Communications, my field predecessors pushed, is “science” every bit as much as biology, chemistry. Communication, after all, is the backbone of our existence, a part of explaining and enacting our research in psychology.

Nevertheless, even as a communications researcher, accepted into a Master’s level program, I continued to think “I’m not a scientist.” I continued to say I wasn’t “science girl.”

Enter PEWS science communication internship August 2025.

The homeschooled Cincinnatian young woman, part of a “Science Club” in middle school, dove straight into research on kid experiments. But with each passing month, I sought to switch it up, so the kids had different areas of science to experience each month.

And then came the month my PEWS mentor suggested I incorporate my own research into the monthly planning.

My own research? Oh, right, I said- My research IS science. Hence, the word, “research.”

But “research” had never innately meant “science,” in my mind.

“Science” was the science of bees pollinating plants.

“Science” was the science of photosynthesis and how the leaves change colors.

“Science” was the physics involved in centrifugal and centripetal force, even.

“Science” was chemistry (i.e., lava lamps and reactions), biology (i.e., plants and animals), global warming and pollution.

“Science” wasn’t my dozens of journals that, besides my stories and drawings, were filled with “studies.” Studies into the psychology behind people attaching colors to a person’s name when they say or hear it. The objects and words people associate with “hope,” “love,” etc. The six words people (over a spread of age, race, and gender) would select to describe their life experience so far.

Except, it turns out, that was “science.” Qualitative and quantitative data gathering with an analysis for themes or coding. Strategic design of interviews through a set of particular questions. In-detail observations of the going-ons of people in the world around you.

But no one told me that. I was little Miss “Right-Brained” with my metaphors and art and creativity.

When my mentor mentioned my own research- my own work- I added another bullet point to my slow realization over the past year: my work was also science. In fact, it was mainly science. It just happened to involve words- description- colorful presentation- creativity in the form of study development- qualitative research (interviews!) more than quantitative numbers or statistical facts.

So, one of the months, I designed an activity that targeted interviews and observations. The kids were presented with little notebooks labeled “Field Notes,” and they could select their own science-y pen. Scavenger hunt-style, they scattered through the farmer’s market noting their own observations in words or drawings. Interviewing marketgoers or vendors. Upon each task completion, they earned a special sticker they could select.

“She won’t tell you,” the mom of little shy one said at the end, “but she LOVED this activity. We marked down every person whose favorite color was orange.”

Gangly, quiet pre-teen vanished for so long I almost forgot about her. “Done.” I looked up and asked her to recount her observations. “Well, I sat on the stage. I noticed three booths that were normally here aren’t, and these two are new.” She proceeded to recount detailed observations while I sat there stunned.

“You’re really good at this,” I said in response to her questioning look.

No one told me that. I was just odd. Odd that I conducted studies among the adults and kids in my life from the time I was twelve years old.

Science is such a broad spectrum. And our educational system doesn’t always, or isn’t able to, touch upon all of it.

Science communications for kids is about reaching them across the spectrum of science. It’s about allowing them to discover elements of their world- and possibly their passions. It’s about acknowledging their desire to learn, their fountain of curiosity.

My time as the science intern not only allowed me to bond with these kids (and with adults!) but allowed me to bring knowledge forward with fun and an innate passion I possess.

And it validated a woman in her twenties and her odd school complex: my work is science. My research is valid (that is, hopefully).

And this past year I was given a chance to fuel that passion and fire within dozens of young students, interested and falling all along the scientific spectrum. They are our future. And they best learn when paired with an interested individual that they grow used to seeing monthly, building a relationship with each of them.