Valerie Wu, a student at the University of Southern California and an alum of SPICE’s Reischauer Scholars Program (RSP), Sejong Korea Scholars Program (SKSP), and China Scholars Program (CSP), recently interviewed Dr. Tanya Lee, instructor of CSP, for US-China Today, a publication of USC U.S.-China Institute.

In the September 26 interview, Lee shares insightful comments on her experiences teaching the CSP, including insights on the importance of studying China for everyone, regardless of their eventual career; and how she identifies topics for the course. In addition, Lee references SPICE’s newest course, Stanford e-China (SeC), which was developed for high school students in China and focuses on “Technologies Changing the World: Design Thinking into Action.” Lee and SeC instructor Carey Moncaster are engineering a collaboration between CSP and SeC students in November, in which they will work on a “green technology” project together, exploring practical solutions to sustainability issues they see in their own communities. The students will also be connecting informally over social media and are very eager to make contact with their counterparts overseas.

Looking back at her experience in the CSP, Wu commented, “The interdisciplinary, global thinking that I cultivated as a student at SPICE has become a fundamental aspect of my academic career. As a Narrative Studies and Law, History & Culture double major with an interest in China, the academic mentorship I received through the CSP highlighted the ways that intellectual study intersects with all these different ways of thinking about a certain topic. The way an issue is framed, specifically the way that we apply our own interpretation to it, reflects not only our understanding of culture, but also our place in it.” For Lee, witnessing students like Wu continue their study of China in college makes her feel more optimistic about future U.S.–China relations, despite the current tension between the two countries.

Wu’s interview of Lee can be accessed here.

The Stanford e-Japan Program provided me with the opportunity to take insightful lectures by front runners in various fields (for example, ambassadors, lawyers, and university professors), and to participate in absolutely riveting virtual classrooms, during which we could confer and raise questions about issues pertaining to the lectures.

It was my gateway to cross-cultural understanding and international studies, and it was the key to finding my passion, as I realized that law and business were my specific areas of interests. The program pushed me to seek further education in those fields and learn more intensively.

In high school, I conducted comparative research between India and Pakistan, analyzing honor killing court cases dating back to the late 19th century, judicial systems, etc. I realized how law can reinforce social norms by signaling approval and dissent through legal decisions, and how a revision of judicial systems can have massive social impact. I decided to major in Japanese law to gain knowledge and insight into these legal regimes domestically, and to pursue my dream of addressing social injustice.

Studying law at the University of Tokyo was both rewarding and invigorating. I had chances to engage in frank discussions with professors about civil procedures and criminal law, scrutinize documents, participate in seminars, and write a research paper about criminal prosecutions for defamation in Japan. Whilst taking classes, I also had internship opportunities to see how law was put into practice at a number of domestic and international law firms, and these experiences greatly assisted in developing my practical and theoretical expertise in law.

At the same time, having an interest in business, I launched a project with university peers to tackle food insecurity in Asia with the ultimate aim of reducing social injustice through social entrepreneurship. The idea was to produce an environmentally sustainable source of animal feed and provide a new source of income for the local population. We presented this plan and placed in the top six in the Asian Regional Hult Prize competition—one of the world’s largest international social entrepreneurship competitions for students—and took our project further.

Stanford e-Japan was much more than a virtual classroom, as it introduced me to so many caring and enthusiastic educators who encouraged me to go beyond my limits, and it equipped me with the skills that are essential for learning, such as problem-solving, research, and communication skills. With these skills and personal ties, I intend to keep challenging myself and carrying on my lifelong journey of learning.

Stanford e-Japan made my days in high school much richer. I attended the fall session of the course last year, and I am currently in the third and final year of high school.

For me, Stanford e-Japan was a “gate” to learn and understand the United States. I am truly glad that I had been able to listen to lectures offered by leading scholars in the United States. One of the most valuable parts of the course was that each topic contained views from the U.S. side. For example, in the class about World War II, we learned how the atomic bombing was taught in schools in the United States, and I was surprised to know that it illustrates more aspects of the bombing than Japan does.

Through learning about the U.S.–Japan relationship from the perspective of the United States, I gained many new thoughts about Japan as well. In particular, when I read about the role of the Japan–U.S. Security Alliance, I realized that many countries in Asia and their historical legacies continue to impact U.S.–Japan relations, making the alliance a very complicated topic. In addition, I learned the benefits and responsibilities of the alliance for the United States, in addition to those for Japan. During that module, I understood that it is crucial to see things from the side of both countries. 

Discussions with students from many different backgrounds was another great feature of Stanford e-Japan. I was often inspired by the views of my classmates that are based on their unique experiences. For instance, in a discussion about gender issues and equality, some students shared their own stories about finding inequality in their schools, and others brought research and data that countries around the world are introducing to solve the problem. In virtual classes, I was often stimulated by the questions posed by other brilliant students.

Through the classes, Stanford e-Japan gave me the “bridge” to connect the United States and Japan. Now, I think we will have to keep and strengthen the relationship. In the future, I would like to be a person who works globally. Stanford e-Japan underscored the importance of keeping a peaceful relationship, and the importance of understanding each other.

Finally, I would like to thank Stanford e-Japan Instructor Meiko Kotani, the lecturers, and the Yanai Tadashi Foundation who supported this amazing program.

On September 2, 2020, over 160 educators from across the United States joined a webinar titled “Angel Island Immigration Station: The Hidden History.” The Angel Island Immigration Station was located in San Francisco Bay and was operational from 1910 to 1940. It was established in order to control and enforce the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act and other immigration-related laws that followed, e.g., the Immigration Act of 1924, which included the Asian Exclusion Act and the National Origins Act.

The featured speaker was Connie Young Yu, a writer, activist, and historian. Yu has written and spoken extensively about the contrasts between Ellis Island Immigration Station in New York Harbor—in which immigrants primarily from Europe were welcomed by an image of the Statue of Liberty—and Angel Island Immigration Station in San Francisco Bay where immigrants entering the United States primarily from Asia were detained and interrogated. The largest detained group of immigrants was from China. Reflecting on the webinar, Yu commented:

I was glad to share my “hidden history” during the SPICE webinar, including the saving of the immigration barracks in the 1970s and my grandmother’s lengthy detention on Angel Island. The immigration station barracks—now a national monument—were nearly destroyed had it not been for Ranger Alexander Weiss and the activism of a citizens’ committee. The writing on the barracks’ walls by Chinese detainees still speaks to us today of peoples’ struggle against immigration exclusion and institutionalized racism.

The webinar can be viewed below.

Yu’s talk was followed by SPICE’s Jonas Edman who worked with graphic artist Rich Lee to publish Angel Island: The Chinese-American Experience. Edman shared scenes and activities from this graphic novel that tell the story of Chinese immigrants who were detained at Angel Island Immigration Station. The graphic novel has been widely used nationally to educate students about immigration to the United States from China. Yu remarked, “I was thrilled to hear from Jonas Edman about the brilliant graphic novel, Angel Island: The Chinese American Experience. At last, as part of the curriculum, students can learn in living color about how the detainees struggled and endured, the human side of Chinese immigration exclusion.”

Given the prevalence of immigration-related news over the past several years, several teachers in attendance noted the importance for school curricula to include topics related to immigration history in the United States. Following the webinar, Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation’s Executive Director Edward Tepporn reflected:

Growing up in Texas, I didn’t learn about Angel Island and its significant role in our nation’s complex history until after I moved to the Bay Area… Especially as racism and xenophobia are on the rise in the U.S., it’s important to uplift the full history of how our nation has treated its diverse immigrant communities, including the injustices they have endured as well as their important contributions.

Edman suggests that teachers consider asking students essential questions like: How and why did U.S. immigration policy favor certain groups and not others? What impact did laws such as the U.S. federal law, Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, have on Chinese immigration to the United States? In what ways did Chinese immigrants advocate for themselves and actively respond to discrimination and exclusion? How is U.S. immigration policy similar and different today? Also, Edman highly recommends teachers to visit the Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation website, which includes excellent teaching resources, including primary sources.

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The webinar was made possible through the support of the Freeman Foundation’s National Consortium for Teaching about Asia initiative. The webinar was a joint collaboration between SPICE and Stanford’s Center for East Asian Studies. Special thanks to Dr. Dafna Zur, CEAS Director, and John Groschwitz, CEAS Associate Director, for their support; and to SPICE’s Naomi Funahashi for facilitating the webinar and Sabrina Ishimatsu for planning the webinar.

“What is social innovation?” was the central question that Professor Emeritus Seiichiro Yonekura, Hitotsubashi University Institute of Innovation Research, posed to 25 high school students who were enrolled in the inaugural offering of Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan in spring 2020. Yonekura was the first guest lecturer of the online course that is jointly sponsored by SPICE and the Japanese NPO e-Entrepreneurship, and his lecture set the context for a four-month course that also featured sessions by e-Entrepreneurship’s Yusuke Matsuda, Stanford scholars, and Silicon Valley- and Japan-based entrepreneurs. The goal of Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan is to foster creative thinking and problem-solving skills in students with a focus on innovation to address social issues.

For Yasuko Kinoshita, a student from Akita Prefecture, she immediately took this question to heart and began to think critically about how to help Akita’s economy, which has been largely dominated by traditional industries like agriculture, fishing, forestry, and sake brewing. Like many prefectures in Japan, Akita grapples with population decline due to an aging population and young people moving to urban centers like Tokyo for college and employment. Kinoshita’s final paper focused on ways to encourage youth to stay in Akita or to return to Akita after going away to college, and proposed ways that Akita could promote its strengths—such as its abundance of onsen (hot springs)—to establish workplaces that promote physical and psychological health for customers. Onsen waters are thought by many to be “healing.”

Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan Instructor Maiko Tamagawa Bacha observed that since the course was taught while students were at home during the pandemic, there seemed to be a type of “healing” quality that the course offered by way of convening students from throughout Japan. Students’ comments suggested that it was almost therapeutic to hear about how students in other parts of Japan were coping. Bacha noted, “Yasuko was a student who really stood out because she not only effectively engaged with students, scholars, and entrepreneurs but also put into practice insights gained from the course. I found the following statement from her final research paper especially poignant: ‘Offering a new role in society for elderly people can enhance the economy by facilitating an industry.’” While being concurrently enrolled at Akita Senior High School and Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan, Kinoshita founded a company to manage Yunokoshi Onsen. Given that many elderly—for health benefits—partake of the onsen waters, her experiences with Yunokoshi were very insightful to the other students in the class who shared an interest in Japan’s aging population. Kinoshita considered ways that onsen can help to bring about even more physical and psychological healing especially for the elderly during the time of the COVID-19 pandemic. When asked about her experience in the course, Kinoshita noted:

Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan allowed me to have an experience to come up with realistic but ideal solutions to address real-world problems as a team. Before attending the program, I simply had the idea of wanting to combine my science background and my dream of solving social problems. However, one of the classes, which was the class on demographic change offered by Dr. Karen Eggleston, helped me to focus my interest, and enabled me to take action to address issues concerning the elderly by founding a company to manage Yunokoshi Onsen.

In her onsen management role, Kinoshita creates and updates websites, raises money through crowdfunding, and plans for new projects such as attracting people of all ages to the onsen, which has typically attracted more elderly. She is planning to allow local people to staff restaurants at Yunokoshi Onsen in order to provide them with an experience of learning the inner workings of restaurants.

Kinoshita will be invited to Stanford University in 2021 for a ceremony during which she will be afforded the opportunity to present her research to an audience of members of the Stanford and Japanese communities in the San Francisco Bay Area, including the Consulate General of Japan.

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Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan is a partnership between SPICE and NPO e-Entrepreneurship, which is led by Yusuke Matsuda, MBA, and Mana Miura. Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan enrolls exceptional high school students from throughout Japan. Top Japanese and American scholars and entrepreneurs provide web-based lectures and engage students in live discussion sessions or “virtual classes” on topics like health care and public health, food and agriculture, environment and energy, and technology and innovation. The course is offered in English and includes reading assignments, online lectures, and discussion board posts. The course culminates in an independent research project. Students who successfully complete the course receive a Certificate of Completion from SPICE, Stanford University.

The spring 2020 course was taught by Maiko Tamagawa Bacha and generously supported by Water Dragon Foundation. Teacher Advisor Roy Lee, a teacher at Seiko Jr. and Sr. High School, Yokohama, Japan, contributed his time to the spring 2020 course as well as several high school and college students.

The fall 2020 course will be taught by Irene Bryant and is generously supported by Andrew and Mako Ogawa, Noriko Honda Chen, and the Capital Group. 

Applications opened last week for the China Scholars Program (CSP), Sejong Korea Scholars Program (SKSP), and Reischauer Scholars Program (RSP) on Japan—three intensive online courses offered by SPICE, Stanford University, to high school students across the United States. All three applications can now be viewed at https://spicestanford.smapply.io/. Interested students must submit their completed application (including an essay and letter of recommendation) by the deadlines listed below.

Spring 2021 Online Course Application Deadlines

China Scholars Program: October 16, 2020
Sejong Korea Scholars Program: October 16, 2020
Reischauer Scholars Program: October 16, 2020

All three online courses are currently accepting applications for the Spring 2021 term, which will begin in February and run through June. Designed as college-level introductions to East Asia, these academically rigorous courses present high school students the unique opportunity to engage in a guided study of China, Korea, or Japan directly with leading scholars, former diplomats, and other experts from Stanford and beyond. High school students with a strong interest in East Asia and/or international relations are especially encouraged to apply.

“U.S. relations with East Asia is prominently featured in the news daily,” says Naomi Funahashi, instructor of the Reischauer Scholars Program. “SPICE is incredibly fortunate to have Stanford faculty conducting cutting-edge research on Korea, Japan, and China who are willing to help our students interpret key historical events and understand contemporary topics related to security, trade, and politics.”

Rising high school sophomores, juniors, and seniors in the United States are eligible to apply to any of the three programs. Students who are interested in more than one program can apply to two or three and rank their preferences on their applications; those who are accepted into multiple programs will be invited to enroll in their highest-preference course.

For more information on a specific course, please refer to its individual webpage at chinascholars.org, sejongscholars.org, or reischauerscholars.org.

The RSP, SKSP, and CSP are SPICE’s online courses for high school students. In addition, we offer online courses for high school students in Japan (Stanford e-Japan) and China (Stanford e-China). To be notified when the next application period opens, join our email list or follow us on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.

Amidst the hectic year known as 2020, I started and finished SPICE’s Sejong Korea Scholars Program (SKSP), an online program offered through Stanford for high school students interested in Korea. The program was challenging but also rewarding; I honestly loved every moment of it.

My interest in Korea began when I was in elementary school. Growing up in Queens, New York, a New York City borough with a diverse population, Korean culture was introduced to me in the form of food. Although some may think all Asian food is the same, as a Chinese American, I know how vastly different Korean food can be from Chinese food. My Korean American classmates would bring in Korean foods for lunch—kimchi, gimbap, galbi—and because I had never seen it before, I’d always want to know how it tasted. Luckily for me, Queens had a sizable ethnic Korean population and with that came great Korean restaurants. I was a frequent visitor to these tasty restaurants. Through this, I became interested in learning more about Korea, but outside of food, a few videos I had watched, and some information from my classmates, I didn’t know much, if anything at all, about Korea.

Heading into the SKSP, I was worried I didn’t know as much as my classmates. When I started the SKSP, all of my worries subsided. You didn’t need a strong background on Korea or in Korean. I was told that the most important thing to have is a genuine interest or curiosity about the topic, which was something I did have. I also have to say that my classmates were some of the most motivated students I’ve ever met.

And during our biweekly meetings, we would attend lectures with experts on Korea and professionals who worked with Korea. Something interesting I learned from a lecture was that the “BBC Dad” Professor Robert Kelly is a political analyst on Korean affairs, which I don’t find to be a coincidence; instead, learning the fact that Professor Kelly is an expert on Korea shows how widespread and important the study of Korea today is.

We explored a bit of pre-nineteenth century Korean history and then explored more on religions in Korea, colonial Korea, the division of Korea and the Korean War, post-war Korea, the divergence of North and South Korea, and trends in South Korean culture including bits about chaebols and the Hallyu wave. I found a particular interest in the Korean diaspora in Japan, which I learned about when learning about Korea in its colonial period. And because the SKSP has a research component, I wrote my paper on that and enjoyed my time so much because it was a topic I genuinely wanted to learn more about. After completing my paper, I was led to Min Jin Lee’s novel Pachinko, a historical fiction about a Korean family in Japan, and found myself so invested because I had some background knowledge.

Starting the course before the pandemic and completing it during the pandemic was interesting, to say the least. When the coronavirus situation took a turn for the worse, my high school courses scrambled to finish the year, but the SKSP went on normally, and I was able to invest more time into learning about Korea. I have to give props to the course instructor, Dr. HyoJung Jang, and the program coordinator Jonas Edman for keeping the course running smoothly through a worldwide crisis and helping us students with any questions and issues we had.

I participated in the SKSP as a senior in high school, and having taken it right before college has been incredible. This course has helped develop my self-driven learning skills, which I believe will be unimaginably beneficial for me as I head off to begin my first year of college. The SKSP is a college-level course that teaches in the same way college courses are taught, and right now, I find that my experience with the SKSP has prepared me for my college classes that I have only recently started.

The SKSP has furthered my interest in international relations, which I hope to major in at the University of Pennsylvania where I am a freshman this fall. I am definitely looking forward to furthering my knowledge of Korea and hope I am able to visit one day after traveling is safe once again. For me, as someone who came into the SKSP with a curiosity and left with even more, I can’t wait to continue on my path of learning. For those interested in the SKSP, I say go for it. It has changed not only how much I know about the world, but also how I perceive it. I hope SPICE continues to offer this terrific opportunity and students take this opportunity, so they can make a difference in the world.

As schools across the U.S. began to close due to COVID-19 in mid-March, I was in the unique position of transitioning into online classes while already having had some experience taking fully online classes. The year before, I had completed SPICE’s Reischauer Scholars Program (RSP), an intensive online course focusing on Japanese culture, history, and U.S.–Japan relations; participating in the Sejong Korea Scholars Program (SKSP), an equivalent program, I thought, would be a similar experience.

Yet, being part of the SKSP in the midst of a pandemic framed the way I participated in and learned from the class. As the course went on, we began each Virtual Classroom with a brief discussion on COVID-19, talking amongst ourselves how we were personally doing, and how Korea was handling it as compared to the U.S. We were encouraged to read local news in Korea to learn about COVID-19, and we brought our learnings to each discussion with renewed vigor. There’s a strange and harrowing feeling you get when analyzing the course of a virus in your home country and across the Pacific—an implicit understanding that this isn’t just a research text to pore over, but an unprecedented moment in history we’re living through. 

But back to the beginning. After participating in the RSP, I realized how essential it is to analyze stories from all facets.

RSP first introduced me to the concept that “history is told from the winner’s perspective,” and SKSP gave me the opportunity to delve deeply into that. I became intrigued with how history is taught and wanted to understand the “other” sides of stories I learned about in my textbooks. Weeks later, when we learned about the Japanese exploitation of Korean comfort women during World War II, I knew that learning about these issues from one side would simply not be enough to fully comprehend parts of history such as these. The way I learn history directly impacts how I view society and the relationships between groups of people.

Hence, each of the modules helped me craft a multifaceted perspective of Korea and U.S.–Korea relations. The lessons and lectures allowed me to understand and re-interpret modern and historical issues in a global context. From Shamanism’s evolving role in Korean society, to Japanese colonial rule in Korea, to the social impacts of the Miracle on the Han River, to class and socioeconomic strata in Korean education systems, I dove into a plethora of topics through readings, lectures, and class discussions. As a high school student, I never believed I would have the honor of learning from distinguished scholars and experts, but SKSP introduced me to a variety of academics with clear passions for Korean history and culture. My learning extended beyond lectures: in discussion boards, I learned from my classmates, who shared their diverse perspectives and experiences and fostered an inclusive and challenging learning environment. We were given the chance to analyze material on our own through readings and assignments, but it was in these virtual interactions with my peers that I discovered the most. The open and constructive group that Dr. Jang and Mr. Edman facilitated was one where we could respectfully engage with one another on any topic while acknowledging at the end of the day the friendships and bonds we’d made. Thus, I paired my self-led education from SPICE with that of my public schooling and constructed a greater comprehensive understanding of the world.  

However, it was the Korean War and North Korea units that I believe played the greatest role in not only my intellectual development, but also my personal and political growth. These two units coalesced in my final research paper project, in which I wrote about the critical role of student activism in South Korean democratization. During my research and readings, I analyzed how the March First Movement set the stage for South Korean protest culture and democratization. I recognized that of the two factions of activists post March First, I might have been in the more radical faction, the one that ended up becoming North Korea. This realization, combined with the readings and lectures from the North Korea unit, completely changed my view of geopolitics in Korea. I learned about the U.S.’s role in the Korean War, and subsequently the Western portrayal of North Korea as a rogue, renegade state. I wondered, how much are we to speak about propaganda when students like me are taught lessons that shield Western imperialism with saviorism and American exceptionalism?

SKSP is not simply a fleeting online course with a broad overview of Korea, but an unparalleled opportunity to uncover Korea on an academic level few other high school students have. I hadn’t expected to undergo a personal and political reckoning within myself, but it is because of this growth that I am beyond grateful for SKSP, Dr. Jang and Mr. Edman’s instruction and advising, and all of my peers’ questions and discussions. Since then, I haven’t ceased to continue kindling my interest in Korean history and politics, questioning previously held beliefs, and broadening my worldview. And it is especially during a time like this—a global movement of Black Lives Matter, a local movement to change my high school’s Indigenous emblem, and everything in between, all within the context of a pandemic—that it is so crucial for me to critically analyze what I’ve been taught, and to keep learning as much as I can. In SKSP, I’ve developed the skills necessary to do so. It’s the “other sides” of stories, namely non-Western and non-white, that I am committed to studying, since understanding the nuances of the past can help guide us into a more equitable future.

Next fall, I begin at Stanford, hopefully on campus—it feels like coming full circle, having the privilege to attend college in an institution that first allowed me to foster a genuine love for learning. Now, while many of my friends begin their college careers, I have chosen to take a gap year with the U.S. Department of State’s National Security Language Initiative for Youth (NSLI-Y), a rigorous and competitive academic scholarship to study a critical language abroad. As of August, the in-country program has been pushed back to 2021 due to COVID-19, but I hope to find myself in Seoul in a few months. With everything ahead of me, I know SKSP is only the beginning, as I hope to continue bridging my education to the world.

I grew up with STEM as my backbone, my crutch. My parents met in engineering school, and the childhood they gifted me with was one filled with opportunities to get my hands dirty. The identity I built for myself was defined by asking questions about snail slime, aphids on roses, simply everything about the “hows” and “whys” of the biological world around me. And not once did I think to steer my gaze elsewhere in hopes of enriching my worldview. To an elementary school Mallika, understanding science and science alone would gift me the tools to solve the world’s greatest problems.

So, of course, it confused me to see my dad, an equity analyst focused on the semiconductor and green tech industries, travel so often to Japan, China, and Korea. Hands filled with stuffed animal pandas wearing qi paos, he would talk on and on about East Asia’s incomparable ability to merge the old with the new: cities at the forefront of tech innovation were sparkled with architecture and customs from lineages spanning thousands of years. My dad sold the intrigue. Not in an orientalist way, rather through a deep appreciation of recognizing the past in an effort to rebrand the future. I just had to get my peek.

I started learning Japanese in fourth grade, Chinese in seventh, and was in love with the languages. They were logical, pictographic, and simply scientific. But the classes were one-dimensional, one-epochical almost, if that’s even a word. What they were able to capture in unraveling the past did nothing in describing the translation to the future. I wanted to get a grasp of contemporary issues to eventually find ways to apply this newfound information to my STEM pursuits.

Fast forward a few years, a semester of SPICE’s Reischauer Scholars Program under my belt, I loved my experience with the SPICE program so much that I had to return for a second program. Naturally, I applied to SPICE’s China Scholars Program (CSP) my junior year of high school, and compounded with classes like AP U.S. History and Honors Chinese, my worldview felt interconnected. Everything I was studying added to an accumulated web of information, weaving connections between economics, public policy, technology, and culture. I wrote my final paper on how bureaucracy, educational equity, and green technology could help China establish itself as the (not a) global superpower, and it had quite honestly been my first exploration in drawing conclusions between seemingly disparate fields. For someone who had conducted many science research projects in the past, CSP and its instructor, Dr. Tanya Lee, challenged and stretched me in ways I never thought possible.

At MIT, we’re taught the merits of collaboration through group-based projects and exceedingly difficult problem sets. However, I often doubt the translatability of this approach in the real world. Students of similar academic backgrounds collaborate on similar projects with similar solutions. The web of information synthesized by students of different majors is undeniably extremely useful in developing real-world solutions. Completing CSP through a STEM lens was a unique way of doing just that. I met students from Virginia all the way to Hong Kong who were passionate about everything under the sun. The variation in perspectives livened discussion boards, and I could almost liken the completed responses to a mosaic: each student had their unique piece to offer, such that the image created was one of heightened clarity. Since then, I’ve taken classes on Chinese, on economics, and even on how to stage revolutions, all as a result of understanding the merits of cross-disciplinary and cross-cultural exploration. And who knows, I might even minor in Chinese to pay homage to the language that shaped my worldview.