Walking up the steps of American Enterprise Institute, my heart thumped in my ears. The day was finally here.
I’m starting my internship, in DC!
Pulling me away from my excited thoughts, the marbled 5-story building radiated importance, demanding my attention. Inside, the vaulted ceiling loomed high over my head, reinforcing the seriousness of my endeavor.
As I was shown to my desk, I felt another surge of energy from the buzz of conversation in the room. Bidding me to get started, that energy reminded me of my commitment to contribute to this fast-paced, scholarly environment, and not make a single mistake.
The first week went by in a flash. First, came onboarding and other trainings. Then, I met the Research Assistants (RAs). Despite the obvious educational gap, I was surprised at how easy it was to connect with them, and especially with one particular RA.
I was off to a great start!
And then I got my first big project. Data analysis and coding.
Anxious to prove myself as a capable and smart student intern, I rushed to my desk. It took me the rest of the day (and a few hours into the evening) to complete the project.
After submitting my completed project, I heard nothing for an entire week. I felt my confidence grow.
No comments must mean good work, right?
As the days passed, I settled into my internship and the office. With other assignments, I placed that first project in the success column in my internship performance spreadsheet in my mind.
Reality was quite the opposite.
When I finally received a message from my RA, I was surprised that he wanted to talk with me about reworking my code from my first project.
Surely, he must be mistaken! I’ve successfully completed several data analysis and coding projects in my Econ classes. I’m doing great work on the projects I’m working on now. Maybe I just got a minor detail wrong.
I was shocked when my RA showed me that my whole page of code was wrong.
I hadn’t taken into consideration that analyzing polling data required a different coding approach than what I had learned in my Econ classes. I had missed a couple of codes, compromising the validity of the entire analysis.
Embarrassed and caught off guard by his blunt critique and his disapproval, it felt like my entire internship had been thrown off track.
I took the rest of the day to stew over how my “perfect performance” had gone so wrong, so quickly.
I was embarrassed.
Angry.
Confused.
The next day, I decided to revisit what happened and how I was feeling. Because my RA was someone I looked up to, his evaluation of my work felt more like an evaluation of me.
Mulling things over, humbling experiences with Econ projects and assignments–that I had worked so diligently on–resurfaced in my mind.
When I first started the economics program, I often struggled with feelings of imposter syndrome and incompetence. It took me a while to realize that learning takes time (and multiple attempts). I was reminded that when I persisted in the face of rigorous coursework (including getting bad grades on some of my homework problems) I eventually succeeded.
Instead of getting defensive and rejecting this learning opportunity at my internship, I decided to accept my RA’s feedback and adjust. With that renewed commitment, I met with my him again to better understand what I had done wrong.
Armed with a clearer sense of what was needed and how to get there, I reworked the code so that the project met expectations.
I felt a deep sense of satisfaction with my growth. I could handle setbacks. And I could even deepen professional relationships in the face of those setbacks.
As it turned out, I was asked to work on more projects related to my first project topic and on others that I found deeply fascinating. In fact, my first project, which I thought was completed within the day, turned into a semester-long project for my scholar at AEI!
Go figure.