My Dad Taught Me about Relational Values (Remember Your Roots 3)

Two days ago we celebrated my dad's life. After his death, I realized how much he taught me about relational values, a key component of my work life. Here are my remarks as MC.

“Voon Loong Chan learned to ride a bicycle at age 7 on a one-lane dirt road in the village of Temoh, Malaysia, crouching under the crossbar of an adult bike, squeezed between vehicles and a barbed wire fence. The fence kept tigers in the jungle—mostly—but it had failed to protect the village from guerilla soldiers. Voon Loong’s family had already fled for the city of Ipoh, leaving the boy with his uncle.” 

Welcome to the celebration of life for Voon Loong / Ricky Chan. I am Kai, Voon Loong’s middle child, his second son, your MC for today.

Let me warn you. Over the course of my remarks before and after the other speakers, I’m going to talk a lot about love.

For years, I didn’t realize that Dad was a lover. My love languages were not a natural fit with his, but now that he’s gone, I can see it clearly.

You’ll hear from six people other than me today. The first two are my younger sister, Soo, and my older brother, Chee. 

Soo, Dad, Chee

To see Soo with Dad was to see two people who were and always had been in perfect harmony, with few words; she does for us what Dad did for his siblings, and then some. 

Chee inherited Dad’s sportsmanship, both his physical prowess at everything he tried, and his infectious play.

Soo Chan Carusone and Chee Chan

Cutting fruit was central for all of us. I was ten when Dad first let me cut a mango. We were at his office in the Fitzgerald Building basement. It was badly overripe, and all he had was a short, flimsy plastic knife. I could see him size it up, and turn up his nose. He offered for me to try. I held the fruit in my left hand, and started at the stem, just as I had seen him done hundreds of times. Sawing vigorously to penetrate the loose skin, I somehow managed to render it into a single long ribbon, and then scalloped the pieces onto the small paper plate. I can still feel the fruit oozing in my hand, the sticky juice dripping down my wrist. Dad looked over and said, “Hmmph. Not bad.” And from that point on, he let me cut fruit for the family.

Soo, Dad, Chee and I

It wasn’t the first or last time he extended trust so I could learn. Even after I totalled the family car, he and Mum got me right back behind the wheel.

Cutting and serving fruit is an act of unconditional love, for plants and for Dad. A plant is nourishing animals whose ancestors carried their ancestors as seeds. By cutting fruit in beautiful pieces and serving them equally, Dad told people they mattered.

One thing about having a highly accomplished father or grandfather is that not everyone felt equally loved all the time. With the passage of time, I have become convinced that this was more about us than him. He believed in each of us fiercely, and wanted us to follow our passions and fulfill our potential. He kept learning new love languages. How many 80-year old men learn to use the heart emoji, and use it liberally?

Dad (bottom right) beside Michael Smith (centre)
with the Smith Lab

The heart and soul of Dad’s work as a professor at U of T was his lab group. Water balloons, egg tosses, and rockets at Centre Island fused them in my young mind as a group of smart, fun people who enjoyed being together. They were invited into our family, and they treated the three of us kids like people who mattered. Of the many people that Dad touched, no one is better poised to represent his academic life than David Ng, Director of Genetic Access Tools and Associate Research Scientist at Columbia's Zuckerman Institute.

David Ng

One life lesson Dad was firm on was to stay connected to my teachers, professors, and mentors. He said, “You never know when they might be able to help you.” It never felt like the real reason. Years later, I realized he was also speaking as a mentor: he wanted to keep helping people. Over the years, he told us about many work or sports friends and how they were doing. For a good number of them, their own families barely visited. But he did.

Dad (right front at the table) with several of his siblings
and their spouses, plus Chee Leng (right) and me

Dad was proudly a middle sibling in a big family of six boys and six girls. He loved his siblings and their spouses and children, calling them often, and spending months each year in Malaysia after he retired. Today, we are missing our beloved aunts and uncles: Yow Chair, Anna, Irene, Alfred, Voon Choong, Sau Lin, Sau Ching, and Sau Mei. Remember his mother’s brother, who took him in at age 7? Dad did. We hosted cousin after cousin in our house for months or even four or five years of their schooling: Yong Ming, Susee, Jerome, and Chee Leng. In the process, they became part of the family. Chee Leng has come from Hong Kong to say a few words.

Chee Leng Yeoh

Dad (2nd from right) with host Sau Ching (right) and others

It was with our Malaysian family that I first felt Dad’s broader weaving of relationships. It was easy to take for granted our little family of five. In Malaysia, the bonds that Dad had forged extended to include us, too. Countless relatives and friends took us in and showered us with food and love. My daughters were floored by this, too, when Dad, Mum and I finally took them to Malaysia and Singapore. Chee Leng’s family, my Auntie Sau Ching and Uncle Yeoh, were our superlative hosts. We will always be grateful that Dad’s family made us their family too.

Dad receiving a trophy. He was captain of his state 
basketball team in Malaysia.

I wrote the Lives Lived article I quoted from in TGAM as a gift to Dad. I had realized that after 50 years, I had never properly ‘got’ him. I wanted to honour all that he had given me, some of which I hadn’t properly appreciated while he lived. The author guidelines asked for foibles and flaws. But it felt like betrayal. The editor pushed it again. “No one is perfect,” she said. “Tell me one thing that drove you crazy.” His bragging drove me crazy, but I sweated it. In the still of night, finally something clicked. I could help people understand and appreciate how that seven-year old made his way in the world, how he sought to be seen. I wrote: “That said, he liked to tell people how often he won. Surely they wanted to know?”

Dad (bottom right) with pickleball friends

Let’s face it. He had a lot to brag about. Here’s John Cameron, a good friend from Pickleball, founder of the Etobicoke Pickleball Association.

John Cameron

Dad was an exceptional athlete because he worked at it, on and off the court. For squash and pickleball, he taught himself by studying how great players played the game. He went on to win multiple medals at the World Squash Master’s Championships and the US Open Pickleball Championships. Every morning he went through a routine of push-ups and abdominal exercises. At the end of December, 2025, after a morning of go-kart racing, Dad came for a walk with Mum and I. As we walked down a hill, I suddenly saw the slick ice.

Dad playing soccer with Keegan

I reached out to Dad, but I was too late. His feet slipped out from him, and whoosh, down he went. I saw it in slow motion as he tucked into a tight hollow body, taking the impact on his bum and rolling back gracefully, keeping his head from whip-lashing back and ensuring he didn’t put down a hand and possibly break a wrist. I thought, here’s an 83-year old that’s ready for the next decade or more. Four months later, he was gone.

Mum and Dad with Tiva and Taya

Dad’s greatest gift to me was the people. Not only the people he loved first, but the ones he helped bring into my life and the ones he taught me how to love. He taught me to parlay sports into friendship and pushed me to attend UTS, where I made lifelong friends. 

It all started with his partnership with Mum—the ying to his yang; 

the muse, sherpa, and concierge for his adventures; 

and his chief of staff and head cheerleader for every goal, dream or pursuit. 

Mum & Dad (around their wedding)

The two of them gave me the best brother and sister that I ever could have asked for in Chee and Soo. They weaved in my sister-in-law Noreen and my brother-in-law Tony, and then my nephews and nieces: Keegan, Amaera, Brayden, Teague and Senna. My wife Ljuba and I learned from their example to raise Taya and Tiva. This t-shirt sporting Chan Clan plays together and supports each other. They are true fruit-sharers. Here is Dad’s partner in everything, Penny.

Penny Chan

Dad made friends with my friends, and with their parents. He bonded with our parents-in-law. He spent a lifetime weaving people together. 

Looking around this room—and on video—I think many of you have chosen to keep weaving with us. You’re fruit-sharers, too.

(Pause)

For Dad, one final thought: We studied how you played this game.

This blog is part of a series. See Remember Your Roots, and After his Death ...

CHANS Lab Views by Kai Chan's lab is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
Based on a work at https://chanslabviews.blogspot.com.

After His Death, I Saw How My Dad Shaped Me (Remember Your Roots 2)

My dad was a professor, too. Almost everyone who knew that heard me say, "So I wanted to be anything but."

One morning in the very early 1990s, as we drove down to campus and my high school in his little silver car, he told me again that I'd make a great prof. I said I wanted to make more of a difference to the world. He said I could be like David Suzuki, who had been a geneticist colleague of my dad's before CBC's The Nature of Things and the David Suzuki Foundation.

I thought, Hmmm—but ...

Fast forward 30+ years, and I'm interviewing David Suzuki about seeking transformative change through science for CoSphere's Small Planet Heroes podcast.

The way I told it, I exhausted every other option before following his advice. At U of T, I enrolled in Commerce (and switched to Arts & Science on day one). After my undergrad, I planned on law school (and went to Princeton for a PhD). After Princeton, I appealed to conservation NGOs (and went to Stanford for a postdoc). After Stanford, I interviewed for 13 positions in the Canadian federal government (and went to UBC as a Canada Research Chair).

After he died suddenly and unexpectedly on April 25, I finally realized that I followed the path he imagined for me as a teenager.

I never gave him credit for it. I couldn't even see it until he was gone.

While he was alive, all I focused on were the things I wanted to do things differently. Now it's so obvious that he was just about the best role model a boy could ever hope for.

He modelled balance in academia. I champion the same. He honoured and stayed connected to his mentors. I celebrate remembering our roots (this post is Part 2).

As a person, he was deeply principled and loving—even if he couldn't always express it in the ways I could understand.

Equipped with a new understanding of him, I submitted the following as a Lives Lived essay for The Globe & Mail. They published it today.

I copied the longer initial submission below, with one additional edit.

Voon Loong (Ricky) Chan Connected across Cultures and Continents

Scientist. Athlete. Father. Coach. Born Sep. 8 1942, in Malaysia; died Apr. 25, 2026, in Burlington, of heart attack; aged 83.

Voon Loong Chan learned to ride a bicycle at age 7 on a one-lane dirt road in the village of Temoh, Malaysia, crouching under the crossbar of an adult bike and squeezed between vehicles and a barbed wire fence. The fence kept tigers in the jungle—mostly—but it had failed to protect the village from guerilla soldiers. Voon Loong’s family had already fled for the city of Ipoh, leaving the boy with his uncle.

My parents on a hike

Once a spot had been secured at St. Michael’s—a prominent English-speaking Catholic school in the city—Voon Loong joined his parents and siblings, five other boys and six girls. 

To keep out of city gangs, Voon Loong threw himself into sport. He travelled with friends 100 kilometres over the mountains on a single-speed bike to play basketball, eventually playing for his state. He swam, ran, and played badminton as his studies allowed.

As a teenager, his family came into enough money to send him overseas for school. After his beloved mother admonished him not to “come back with a white wife”, he landed in Melbourne, Australia, to join the new Heidelberg High School. There he met Penny, whose English family wanted nothing less than for her to be that white wife.

Voon Loong and Penny shared an adventuresome spirit and a set of strongly held core values: work hard, tell the truth, make friends, and cherish your family. Otherwise, they contrasted: she was bubbly and free; he was methodical and strategic.

Soon after graduating from the University of Melbourne and marrying in 1966, they began their international travels together. After Voon Loong did a Master’s of Science at Monash, the couple took up their studies in Ontario, at Western. Working at the same Cancer Lab, he studied microbial genetics, she immunology. Bonding to fellow graduate students over chicken curry cooked in beakers, they fell in love with cold Canada.

Ph.D.s in hand, they took up teaching jobs at the University of Malaya. When Malaysia dictated that all instruction was to be done in Malay, Voon Loong sensed that the country was limiting opportunities for Chinese and western students alike. Back across the ocean he went in search of fairness and promise for his children, first for a sabbatical, and then for an Assistant Professorship at the University of Toronto, eventually bringing his family, which by then included two young boys, Chee and Kai.

One of two children, Penny wanted four; one of twelve, Voon Loong wanted two. They compromised on three, and promptly had a Canadian daughter, Soo. In 1980, the rest of the family joined her as proud Canadian citizens. As Voon Loong’s career took off, the young family embraced Canada, skiing, biking, hiking, swimming, canoeing, and camping—visiting every province. British Columbia captivated them for a year, as Voon Loong spent the first of two sabbaticals with UBC’s Nobel Laureate, Michael Smith.

My dad wearing my PLoS Biology Author t-shirt

Voon Loong distinguished himself as a leading microbial geneticist, specializing in Campylobacter jejuni, an important pathogen. It rankled him that funders recruited him to study first-world diseases but spurned his plans to develop a low-cost vaccine for a central cause of diarrheal disease in the tropics.

Modeling the balance that he taught his children, Voon Loong squeezed sports amongst his academic work. In his forties, he took up squash, and simply by studying how good players played, he ascended to its highest heights, winning medals at the World Squash Masters Championships.

Sport was never only for achievement, however; it was always for the friendships that were forged under pressure with play. That said, he liked to tell people how often he won. Surely they wanted to know?

Cycling continued its allure. In 1993, Voon Loong retired as a professor to take up cycle-touring with Penny. The two of them completed dozens of trips across four continents, including a cross-Canada ride in 2008. Again, it wasn’t just the destination but also the journey, as every trip brought new friends, whether they were fellow cyclists from afar or locals who found two shivering rain-soaked seniors in need of a bike shop and decided to transport, feed, and house them for a night.

As his children married and seven beloved grandchildren joined ‘Team Chan’, Voon Loong became head coach of a clan. Together, they biked, swam, paddled, and played every sport imaginable in the ‘Chan Olympics’, as he instilled in all the same values that had guided him through life.

For his family, no ask was too much. Could they send back money to Malaysia from their tiny graduate stipends? Yes. Could a niece come stay for university in Toronto? Sure—we’ll add rooms onto the house. A nephew, too? Great—a sub for 3-on-3 basketball. Another nephew? The more the merrier.

Human connection also inspired his love for pickleball in his seventies. Here was a game, he figured, where he could join up with anyone just about anywhere and make friends. If they were masters of the sport, he studied them; if they were novices, he coached them. He became a certified coach and ambassador for the sport, bringing it to his hometown Ipoh and taking great pride in its flourishing.

It was also about achievement, of course. In his later years, he and Penny made a yearly pilgrimage to Naples, Florida for the US Open Pickleball Championships, the largest and most competitive event in the sport. And he won medal after medal, including a gold and two silvers in the 80+ category just ten days before his death.

In his final days, those closest to him sensed a change in him. He was, at last, content. It wasn’t only that he had ascended so high in the Pickleball ratings (4.68) that there didn’t seem to be another 80-year old left to play, but that he was surrounded and adored by the big, tight, flourishing family he had built with Penny and their fabric of friendships all over the world.

My dad's commitment to study a 'third world' disease (above in red) didn't make the cut, but it mattered hugely to me. He lived by his principles.

The Globe & Mail wanted something that drove us crazy, a flaw or foible (added post hoc in blue). At first I resisted: I had spent my whole life focusing on those. This piece was a gift to him, to make up for my blindness during his life.

Finally, though, I could see the bragging differently. During his life, it felt like he wanted to show others he was better. Now it was just that abandoned seven year-old, one of twelve kids, who needed to be seen.

I love you, Dad, with all of it—not despite it.

This blog is part of a series. See Remember Your Roots and the following post, My Dad Taught Me about Relational Values.

CHANS Lab Views by Kai Chan's lab is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
Based on a work at https://chanslabviews.blogspot.com.

Celebrating John Robinson

John Robinson is retiring from U of T. John was a colleague for a decade at UBC, and I was privileged to learn a ton from him. I wouldn't be who I am without him. Here are a few tidbits, to honour him.

1. REGENERATIVE SUSTAINABILITY. Doing more than just doing less bad. John was an early and compelling champion of this crucial idea.

2. CONSTRUCTIVE AMBIGUITY. Yes, sustainability means many things to many people. No, that doesn't mean it's meaningless or uninteresting academically or professionally. Its ambiguity is part of its strength, bringing people together to co-construct what it means for us.

3. IMAGINATION IS KEY. A decade ago, John argued that we needed to 'imagine our way toward sustainability'. Reeling from the first indications of the post-truth world, I couldn't believe my ears. I loved our exchange about it (here). I'm so convinced, I'm now writing a speculative fiction series centering interpersonal trauma and renewal amidst transformative change.

4. HOW TO GET STUFF DONE, when many institutions are involved—including universities. Others got bogged down by bureaucracies, or refused to engage. John dived in and built what was at the time the greenest building in North America, a living lab for sustainability, the Centre for Interactive Research on Sustainability at UBC. A key tip: keep refreshing relationships, even if progress is little.

5. DISAGREE VEHEMENTLY, BUT GENIALLY. If I had a nickel for every time John said, "I completely disagree ...". But even if it was loud, and sometimes fierce, it was also friendly and productive. The exchange above (see 3) felt dramatic at the time, but so nourishing after.

6. BE OPTIMISTIC. Smile. Cheer on your colleagues. Believe we can do better, and we will. John has been an inspiration to so many; his legacy will continue long after his retirement.

Happy retirement, John! You've earned it.

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PhD Student Ad: Bird Communities, Scavengers, and Disease Ecology & Evolution

We are seeking up to two PhD students to undertake research involving interactions between bird communities, urban food waste, scavengers, and the evolution and transmission of diseases. Two separate projects are envisioned (likely for two separate students): (a) to undertake a robust field program resurveying bird communities around Vancouver and analyzing this data in the context of previous surveys and an impending tree classification to explore opportunities for urban bird conservation; (b) to model the ecology and evolution of transmission, virulence, and spillover for wildlife diseases (including zoonotic ones) in this context. The successful candidate(s) will join a vibrant team of scholars and practitioners seeking a “Harmonic City”, where bird communities thrive alongside human ones, imbuing cities and suburbs with song.

Students are invited to propose alternative approaches and add-ons, including components with fieldwork, statistical analysis, and mathematical modeling, depending on their interests and skill set.

The successful candidate(s) will likely be supervised by Kai Chan with co-supervision by Chadi Saad-Roy (for disease modeling), and mentorship from Harold Eyster. They will be part of vibrant communities of interdisciplinary scholars at UBC, including CHANS Lab, IRES (Institute for Resources, Environment and Sustainability), the Biodiversity Research Centre, and the Interdisciplinary Biodiversity Solutions Collaboratory (IBioS) (and, if applicable,  also various communities at UBC in mathematical biology and infectious disease dynamics).

Eligible Candidates

Canadian and International students are encouraged to apply. The applicant should have successfully completed a MSc and/or have a strong background in field research and experimental design and statistical analysis, and/or mathematical modeling. Ideal candidates will have strong communication and organizational skills, the ability to work collaboratively in a team, and a keen interest in interdisciplinary research. Candidates should generally have a first-authored article in a peer-reviewed journal published or in press.

An annual Graduate Research Assistant Stipend will be available for 4 years to ensure funding at a minimum rate of CDN $28,000/year plus benefits. Additional funding will be available in the form of Teaching Assistantships. If the candidate does not have NSERC or similar funding they will be expected to be proactive in applying for awards.

Interested applicants should apply to the RES PhD program by December 15 2025. Students wishing to indicate and assess interest before applying can send a cover letter, CV, a statement of grades (including TOEFL score for international students) by email (subject: “Bird communities, Scavengers, and Disease PhD position”) to kai [dot] chan [at] ubc [dot] ca and chadi [dot] saadroy [at] ubc [dot] ca. The anticipated starting date will be September 1 2026 assuming UBC entrance requirements are met.

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Announcing Season 2 of Small Planet Heroes, a CoSphere podcast—for you

If you're reading this, I'm guessing you're devoted to societal transformation toward genuine social and ecological sustainability and justice.

If so, we made a podcast for you. Season 2 of CoSphere's Small Planet Heroes launches today.

It includes an incredible line-up of change-makers at the intersection of transformative change and science (both natural and social): Alex Morton, Suzanne Simard, Teika Newton, Eli Enns, Ingrid Waldron, David Boyd, Terre Satterfield, Sir Bob Watson, and David Suzuki.

The conversations were individually inspiring, and as a collection we hope they weave into something that can help grow an intersectional transformational community to leverage the change we need.

I hope you’ll listen, subscribe/follow, and favourite/like the series and each episode. Because it’s fun, engaging, and uplifting. And maybe educational, too.

In solidarity,

Kai

CHANS Lab Views by Kai Chan's lab is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
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Pitching YOUR Uncharted Territory: How to think of your proposal in relation to your supervisor when applying to grad school

by Kai Chan

This is an extra post in a series, How to Write a Winning Proposal—in 10 Hard Steps

Every day, millions of prospective graduate students reach out to prospective graduate supervisors. If that’s you, or it will be soon, you’re probably wondering:

“Should I pitch my own unique idea? Or just indicate a general interest in a professor’s area? What’s the best strategy to win over prospective supervisors, and land a great Master’s / PhD position?”

The unfortunate truth is that neither of those choices is quite right. In the space of interdisciplinary research related to people and nature, the likely winning strategy requires both independent creativity and adaptability to fit your supervisor’s interests and expertise.

Although neither “pitch your own” and “interest in professor’s area” is sufficient, both could be a good starting point. But the process that needs to ensue requires more careful thought than the vast majority of prospective students put in.

In many cases, this seems to be because students just don’t know how to approach this complex problem. That’s where this post comes in, to help.

In some cases, prospective students aren’t yet capable of doing the careful thought that I call for below. In my opinion, if the careful thought below feels too hard or onerous and boring, this might indicate that now is not the right time for you to apply to a research-based graduate program.

Why “pitch your own” often won’t work alone

The motivation for “pitch your own” is obvious. You want a research project that will be fulfilling, and you need to demonstrate originality. What better way to achieve both goals than to propose your own independent project?

It’s thinking of “independent” as not in close conversation with your prospective supervisors’ work that problems arise. If you go it alone here, and you don’t attend to what you can learn from the research that prospective supervisors have conducted, it’s likely that your prospective supervisor won’t be able to fund your work. Even if they could, they’re unlikely to take you on because professors need to grow our knowledge and research portfolio strategically and robustly. Venturing out into new, disconnected territory is a recipe for us to spread ourselves thin and to fail to serve our students well.

If your research isn’t in close conversation with your supervisors’ work, you can’t benefit much from their supervision. And that draws away from our motivation as supervisors, because we seek mentorship relationships where we contribute meaningfully.

Moreover, without putting your research in conversation with a nuanced set of other research, it’s likely to seem “basic”. Every question worth investigating has been considered carefully by many researchers before you. Only by engaging directly with those other efforts can you identify where you can add meaningful value.

Writing a proposal is like drawing or painting a landscape picture of a mountain. It takes nuance to do it well, and it needs the landscape. Credits: Mountain icon created by azmianshori - Flaticon; Peaks icon created by PLANBSTUDIO - Flaticon; Landscape icon created by Freepik - Flaticon 

Why “interest in professor’s area” won’t work alone

Given the difficulty of pitching a novel piece of research before even starting a grad program, it’s understandable that many students resort to a chameleon strategy of appearing to be adaptable to work on any project their supervisor might suggest. But I’m wary of this strategy, for several reasons.

Students are not, in fact, equally motivated by all kinds of problems. If they are, it’s because they’re not really motivated by any of them. And intrinsic motivation, that sense of purpose and curiosity, is essential to a successful graduate program.

Moreover, most supervisors are looking for students who can and will advance projects substantially without micromanaging. This isn’t laziness; it’s because great things only happen when there are multiple brains, each with their own rich history and insights, come together.

And, so, even if this strategy seems to be paying off in attracting a prospective supervisor, the student should be wary. Because supervisors who are not steered by the student’s own curiosity and creativity might not be the kind of professor you want in charge of your life for the next few years.

The solution: Fleshing out nuance via supervisors’ research

The only real way forward is to braid together your interests with those of prospective supervisors (Figure 1?). You can start anywhere, the point is to keep reading and braiding.

You can begin with your own idea, and identify prospective supervisors based on that. Then read some of their papers, and refine your idea based on those. If it’s too much of a reach, rethink the prospective supervisors until you find a good fit. Refine your ideas based on their research, then reach out, get more input, and refine some more.

You can also begin by identifying prospective supervisors, reading their research. If you’re bored by a paper, pass it over. If you’re bored by all of a professors’ papers, move on to the next candidate. Once you get to papers that interest you, pay special attention to the latter parts of recent Discussion sections. That’s where you’ll find clues about what your supervisor is excited to work on. If one or more of those ideas excites you, too, dig a bit deeper, and start to form some of your own ideas about what you could do in that space.

It's crucial that the larger landscape you depict in your proposal integrates ideas beyond your prospective supervisor's research. Don't just cite their work! Their research exists in a broader context, and by depicting that, you'll demonstrate your capacity to contribute new insights.

Either way, what you’re aiming for is like the third image above, on the right. If writing a proposal is like drawing a mountain, what you really need to do is to draw a mountain in its landscape (of the literature), where your mountain is squarely in the range of your supervisor’s previous climbs.

That’s how you can explore your own uncharted territory, and have fun and good company doing it. Bon voyage!

The Intro to this series (with links to the full set): How to Write a Winning Proposal—in 10 Hard Steps

CHANS Lab Views by Kai Chan's lab is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
Based on a work at https://chanslabviews.blogspot.com.