The Power of Persistence
From Armenian roots to scientific leadership: how inherited resilience shapes education and mentorship in the Central Valley.
Those words describe how I have learned to move through life. I was born and raised in Armenia, one of the world’s oldest nations—a small country with its own language, culture, faith, and history. Like many Armenian families, mine was shaped by the Armenian Genocide of 1915, which scattered relatives across the world while leaving a legacy of survival, service, education, and contribution. I grew up knowing that I was a descendant of Armenian Genocide survivors and of Archbishop Babken (Hovsep) Apatyan of Argentina. That history gave me pride, but more than pride, it gave me responsibility. It taught me that every generation must decide what it will do with what it has inherited.
My father was a particle physicist, and my mother was a cyberneticist. Science was part of my world before I understood it as a career. During the first Nagorno-Karabakh war, Armenia faced difficult years marked by economic hardship, limited electricity and water, and lost professional opportunities for many families, including mine.
What shaped me most was how my parents responded. My father built an incubator and raised chickens to support us. My mother spent sleepless nights sewing, knitting, helping him build the business, and doing whatever was needed to keep our family moving forward. As the oldest of three children, I watched closely. They taught me that when life removes the expected path, you study the problem, make a plan, break it into pieces, and begin again.
A Promise to Become a Scientist
Watching them changed the way I understood my own future. As a child, I promised myself that I would become a scientist. I wanted to continue the path my parents had started, not only for myself but for them and for the larger family tree I came from. Because I loved both physics and biology, I chose biophysics. I earned my bachelor’s and master’s degrees at Yerevan State University, where I worked in an immunology laboratory and later as a research assistant in an eye research laboratory at the Institute of Biochemistry.
I loved research, but I reached a point where I knew I needed broader training and stronger scientific preparation. That goal led me to Germany, where I joined the Centre for Integrative Neuroscience at the University of Tübingen for my Ph.D. The transition was hard. English was not my first language, and I did not arrive with the same laboratory background that many of my peers had.
I could have allowed that difference to define me. Instead, I treated it as work to be done. While others rested or went out in the evenings, I often stayed late into the night studying, learning techniques, and catching up. During those years, a friend told me something I have never forgotten:
She said that what matters is not where you start, but whether you keep moving until you reach the finish line.
That idea stayed with me because it reflected my own experience. I did not begin with the same advantages as many of my peers, but I learned that determination, preparation, and discipline can matter more than where you begin.
Research, Teaching, and a New Way Forward
I completed my Ph.D. in Neuroscience and later continued my research in California through work connected to the University of California, Santa Cruz and Stanford University. My scientific work has focused on neuroscience, biophysics, retinal plasticity, neuron-glia interactions, electrophysiology, imaging, and brain function. When I later moved to Fresno after getting married, I expected to continue primarily as a researcher. The opportunity that fit my background led me to Fresno State, where teaching became a central part of my professional life.
At first, I was not sure how to keep research alive within a teaching-focused path. Then I did what I had learned to do since childhood: I stepped back, studied the problem, made a plan, broke it into pieces, and began building a new way forward. I started bringing research into the classroom. That became a win-win path. Students gained access to authentic research experiences, and I continued asking scientific and educational questions while developing methods to improve learning outcomes.
Teaching in the Central Valley
For nearly a decade, I have taught and mentored students in California’s Central Valley. Many are first-generation college students. Many are working students. Many carry family histories shaped by migration, sacrifice, culture, language, and responsibility.
When I trained in Germany, I worked in an international environment where students often knew clearly where they came from and how their national identity shaped them. In the Central Valley, I learned that many students live inside several histories at once. Their identities are layered, and their stories matter. That understanding changed the way I teach.
Before my classes, I often ask students to complete a learner profile survey so I can better understand who they are, how they learn, and what they bring into the classroom. I do not see students as empty pages waiting for information. I see them as people with histories, responsibilities, strengths, doubts, and goals. My responsibility is to help them connect science to their lives and futures.
I often tell my students that I give knowledge, not grades. A grade is only a reflection of learning. I want students to leave my classroom able to ask better questions, evaluate evidence, communicate ideas, and trust their own ability to grow. Throughout my career, I have been most fulfilled not by the positions I have held, but by the opportunities I have helped create for others.
The Work I Have Built
That philosophy has shaped the work I have built. I have taught more than 2,400 students and mentored hundreds of student research projects and presentations. I have implemented course-based undergraduate research experiences, active learning, scientific communication projects, virtual reality in neuroanatomy education, artificial intelligence literacy assignments, and interdisciplinary work connecting biology, neuroscience, engineering, psychology, data science, digital health, and healthcare education.
My current research continues that same pattern of building connections through EEG-based brain-computer interface projects, music perception and brain activity in collaboration with engineering, data science, and psychology colleagues, and future prosthetic control concepts.
Motherhood and the Example We Set
That commitment to helping others grow also shapes my life as the mother of four children. Motherhood is not separate from my professional path. It is one of the reasons I continue to pursue it. My children remind me every day that the example we set often teaches more than the words we speak. Each time I feel tired or discouraged, I remember that they are watching how I respond to difficulty. I want them to see that challenges are not reasons to stop, that education matters, and that a person can continue growing, learning, and contributing even when the path is difficult.
Being watched by my children has also made me more thoughtful about how I respond when the world is uncertain. One lesson I have learned throughout life is that people change, institutions change, and leadership changes. Sometimes those changes support your goals, and sometimes they challenge them.
There may be moments when you begin questioning yourself because the voices around you no longer reflect the values or direction that guide your path. During those moments, I have learned to pause and look back before I look forward. I look at the life I have built, the challenges I have overcome, and the promises I made to myself long ago. I also think about my ancestors, my parents, and the challenges they faced. Their stories do not make my own challenges disappear, but they give me perspective. If they found a way to move forward, then I can find one too. Temporary opinions should never have more power than a lifetime of experience. Knowing who you are does not eliminate uncertainty, but it helps you keep moving forward when uncertainty appears.
Know Who You Are
This is the same advice I pass on to my students and my children: know who you are. Know your goal. Be flexible about the path. Step back when needed. Think clearly. Make a new plan. Break the problem into manageable pieces. Then keep moving.
For me, influence is not only a title or recognition. It is the ability to turn lived experience into strength for others. My ancestors remind me that suffering does not have to erase contribution. My parents remind me that adaptation is a form of strength. My students remind me that every person carries a story. My children remind me that what we model becomes part of what the next generation inherits.
Legacy is not only what we inherit. It is what we choose to do with what we inherit. My responsibility is to carry those lessons forward through the students I mentor, the opportunities I create, the work I continue to build, and the example I set for my four children.
That, to me, is the true power of persistence.
