For years, I had a certain image of scientists in my mind. Brilliant, driven, deeply immersed in their work—but often somewhat removed from the ordinary rhythms of family life. I imagined the stereotypical scientist as someone who was absent from the mundane responsibilities of raising children: missing school events, family dinners, birthdays, and sometimes even the moments that mattered most. Professionally, I held enormous respect for them. Personally, however, I always wondered whether the pursuit of extraordinary professional achievement came at the cost of an ordinary, happy family life.
I remember an incident from my postgraduate years at Yale. I attended the wedding of a fellow student whose mother was a highly accomplished scientist. She couldn’t attend her own daughter’s wedding because she was caught up in an important project. She simply sent her daughter a message saying, “Sorry, honey, I couldn’t make it.” I remember being genuinely struck by it. I couldn’t help thinking: how important must a project be for you to miss your daughter’s wedding?
That experience stayed with me and became part of the lens through which I viewed the scientific world.
And then I saw Karl Deisseroth making sandwiches for school lunch.
Watching Karl completely changed that perception. Here was an exceptionally accomplished scientist, yet I saw him doing the most ordinary—and perhaps most extraordinary—things for his children: making their school lunches, preparing their meals, dropping them off, hugging them, being present in the everyday chaos of family life. His wife, too, an accomplished scientist in her own right. And yet, when you look at their family, what comes through isn’t a life sacrificed at the altar of achievement. It is warmth. Partnership. Happiness. Presence.
Karl challenged a very deep assumption I had carried for years.
Perhaps you don’t have to choose.
You can be extraordinarily successful in your profession and still be there for the people you love. You can pursue the frontiers of science and still pack your child’s lunch. You can change the world professionally and still come home to your family.
And perhaps that is what makes Karl’s story so compelling for me—not just that he wins professionally, but that he wins personally too.
Because at the end of the day, success isn’t only about how much you achieve when you’re away from home. It is also about who is waiting for you when you come back—and whether you were present for the moments that mattered along the way.
@Stanford @NobelPrize