The Most Important Lessons from My Last Year in the Lab

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Like I wrote last time, after many ups and downs, I got a job as a system engineer. But before I talk about my life as a working adult, I want to write about my fourth year in university, when I was in a research lab.

I chose the mechanical engineering department because I wanted to "make Doraemon." Just as I had planned, in my fourth year, I joined a research lab that studied bipedal robots.

The lab was divided into teams based on research topics. I was not interested in Doraemon’s four-dimensional pocket. Instead, I wanted to study the "heart"—things like cognitive psychology and neural networks. So, I joined the Welfare Team, which focused on these topics.

During the one year I spent in this lab, I had two important realizations that still connect to who I am today.

Realization 1: Our Likes and Dislikes Help Us Cooperate and Specialize

One day, I was talking with a classmate who had been assigned to the Bipedal Robot Team.

The Bipedal Robot Team spent all day sitting at their desks, doing calculus over and over. After months of calculations, they could finally make a robot move—but only for a few seconds.

Until then, I had always felt sorry for him, thinking, “He got the worst team. That must be so boring and tough for him.”

But that day, he said something that completely shocked me.

“No, I actually love this! The feeling when my calculations work out perfectly is amazing. I can’t understand why you find studying ‘the heart’ interesting. It has no shape, no clear answers—what’s so fun about that?”

By that time, I already understood that “what I like isn’t always what others like.” But this was the first time I realized something even bigger, “There are people who actually love the things I dislike.”

He kept talking with a smile while I stared at him in surprise.

“You know what I love about robots? It’s that people with completely different interests work on their own research, and when all those technologies come together, the robot moves.”

He continued,

“For example, O-chan from the Image Team studies image recognition, and M-chan from the Intelligent Behavior Team researches action generation. Your work on ‘the heart’ decides how the robot behaves, and then my calculations make it walk. When you put it all together, the robot actually moves! Isn’t that amazing?”

Hearing that, I thought, “Yeah, that really does sound interesting.”

Maybe people's likes and dislikes are naturally divided like this so that we can work together and find our own roles.

Realization 2: You Must Hold On to What Truly Matters

I got into the research lab I wanted and was assigned to the team I wanted. Well then, did I get to do the research I wanted? Actually, no.

The reason? In the end, I gave it up to someone else.

Science labs need a lot of money for research, and school funding alone isn’t enough. So, labs work with companies and other sources to get funds. Because of this, research themes are chosen based on what will appeal to sponsors and produce results. There are fixed slots for research themes, and two students can’t work on the same one.

When it was time to choose a research theme, I wanted to study "the heart" (neural networks). But when I raised my hand, another student did too.

That student had caused some trouble at school before. When both of us showed interest in the same theme, I felt that the professor wanted to give it to him to avoid any problems. I don’t know if that was really true, but at that moment, that’s how it felt to me.

So, I stepped back.

I had gotten into the lab I wanted. I was learning under a professor I respected, and he seemed to like me, too. So I thought, "Even if I give this up, I’ll still get to work on something interesting."

Then, the professor assigned me a research theme that seemed interesting enough. So I said, "Okay, I’ll do that."

After the meeting, in the hallway, the team leader (a senior student) came up to me and asked, "Are you really okay with that? That theme is probably really difficult."

I replied, "Yeah, it’s fine. No problem."

The way the professor talked about the theme made it sound exciting, so I thought, "It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine." I wasn’t too worried about it.

But from that point on, things became really tough.

I didn’t know exactly what I was supposed to do. I didn’t know what direction I should go in. Every day, I went to the professor’s office to get advice and decide on my next steps.

But my original plan kept getting smaller and smaller. By the time I finally settled on something concrete to work on, I started wondering, "Can this even be called research…?"

"What you're doing isn't real research."

One of the senior students said this to me during a drinking party after our mid-term presentation. The professor and my classmates got angry at him for saying that, but deep down, I thought, "He's right."

With no confidence in my own work, I kept going, asking the professor for advice, getting encouragement, and somehow moving forward—step by step. But then, something happened, and after that, I couldn’t even talk to the professor anymore.

Winter.

As I kept fixing my thesis, which was returned covered in red marks from my senior, I couldn’t stop thinking, "What is the purpose of my research? Does it even have any meaning?"

My research was always met with either harsh criticism, awkward laughter, or teasing from the seniors.

Only one senior supported me. She said, "You’re working really hard. Don’t listen to those people—they’re just saying whatever they want while ignoring their own flaws."

She even invited her father, who worked in a field related to my research, and arranged an interview for me. But still, I thought,

"I should have stood my ground back then."

If I hadn’t given up my research theme… If I were doing the research I truly wanted to do… Then, no matter how much others criticized me, I wouldn’t be suffering this much now. The reason I’m struggling so much…is because I myself can’t see the value in my own research.

There is only one fourth year of university in a lifetime. It is the last time to be free from the pressures of society. I had dreamed of spending that time laughing with my friends, fully absorbed in the robot research I truly wanted to do. A dream that can never come back. In my 40 years of life, I have only two real regrets, and this is one of them.

You have to protect your own life by yourself.

Thinking “I’ll be fine as long as I’m here” or “I’ll be fine if I follow this person”—those naive thoughts cost me my dream. The things you truly want to protect, the things that really matter—you have to hold on to them with your own hands.

That was the biggest lesson I learned in my fourth year of university, in exchange for my dream.

A Little Epilogue to This Chapter: 1

Even after graduating, I sometimes read papers and articles about robots, carrying an unshakable sense of frustration. Every now and then, I found myself thinking about the meaning of my research. Then, about four years later, one day, it suddenly clicked.

“Ah, I see… So that’s what it meant.”

My research theme was a little ahead of its time. If it had been five or six years later, it would have been recognized more. The professor, who could see the future of the field, had given that research theme to me—because he believed I could do it.

My research had many flaws, and I still can’t say I’m proud of it. But even so, I finally found a tiny grain of meaning in it—in my own way, with my own words.

A Little Epilogue to This Chapter: 2

After submitting my thesis, I spent my remaining time before graduation reading as many papers as I could on the topic I had wanted to study in the almost empty research lab, where most students had stopped coming.

The reading didn’t lead to anything concrete, at least not yet. But a few years ago, when machine learning started gaining attention, I took engineering courses and read related books. That’s when I realized—the knowledge I had gained back then was still connected to what I was learning now.

Research is all about building on past work, step by step. By understanding the history of what came before, we can develop new technology on top of it. So in the end, all that time I spent reading papers wasn’t wasted after all.

About 11 years after graduating, I finally felt at peace with my feelings. So, I visited the lab where my professor had moved, together with an old classmate.

Unfortunately, the professor was out due to an urgent matter, but I saw a student happily building robots. When I looked at him, I didn’t feel the jealousy or frustration that I might have felt in the past. Instead, a thought popped into my mind,

"Oh, I’ll make one when I’m older."

It was as if a weight had lifted from me.

Right now, I’m enjoying my work too much to go into robotics, but wouldn’t it be fun to build a robot to take care of me in my old age?

You don’t have to be in a university, a research lab, or a company to do what you love. If you truly want to do something, you can do it anywhere, in any way.

Even things that seem lost forever—if you really want them, you can find a way to bring them back in a new form.

Now, I know that.

to be continued...

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