I’m terrible at most sports — like, really appallingly terrible. My hand-eye coordination is basically nonexistent. I also have this fear of flying objects hitting me in the face. I’m much more likely to duck, close my eyes and try in vain to bat something away than I am to catch any kind of ball. I have nothing but admiration for those folks who are blessed with athletic talent, particularly as I recognize how many hours of hard work, practice and study it takes to develop that level of expertise.

I can’t play any musical instruments. I played the saxophone in jazz band during my days at Davis Middle School, but that was a long time ago. I’ve since forgotten how to read music entirely and, though I often tell myself that one day I’ll have time to sit down and take up an instrument again, I can’t do much on a piano except play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” I love to sing and believe that music is one of those things that brings people such happiness it doesn’t necessarily matter if a person is “good” at it, it should just be done for the joy of it. However, I also doubt my singing brings other people any joy whatsoever. Again, I have nothing but admiration for those who have devoted countless hours of practice and study to hone their craft.

Similarly, I can’t repair cars, fix my refrigerator, drive a bulldozer, develop computer software, paint or sculpt, perform brain surgery or any number of other things. I’m grateful there are others out there who have put their time and energy into developing expertise in those things so I don’t have to. What a blessing that is.

I’m currently enrolled in a descriptive research course in my doctoral program, one of several research and empirical analysis courses I’ve taken throughout my academic career. Let me be clear — it’s a doctoral program in education administration, not medicine. I am not now, nor will I ever be, any kind of medical doctor, medical researcher, infectious disease specialist, epidemiologist, etc. Again, I’m beyond grateful there are others out there who have dedicated years, if not decades, of their lives to becoming experts in those fields.

I do, however, know a little bit about conducting research. I understand the difference between qualitative and quantitative research. I know how to find scholarly, peer-reviewed articles and how to read through the abstract, the summary, the methods used, the limitations and the conclusions. I understand the difference between independent and dependent variables, the meaning and importance of a control group and randomization and the difference between experimental and correlational research.

I get that there is a difference between a hypothesis, a prediction and a theory. I understand what it means for a theory to become widely accepted in a scientific field based on not one or two but thousands of experiments and studies coming to the same conclusion. Levels of measurement, measurement error, confounding variables, the sum of squares, variance, standard deviation, linear regression, ANOVA, significance, Z-scores and the list goes on — they’re all research and statistics based terms and concepts that I have at least a basic understanding of (some far, far more than others).

I’m also really thankful that I don’t have to deeply understand a lot of them. I know from my own coursework and preparation for conducting research to eventually write a dissertation that this stuff is hard. It’s not a matter of watching a five-minute YouTube video and, voila, you’re a researcher! I’ve been pushed to the brink more than once trying to wrap my head around difficult concepts that involve a whole lot of math — and I’m actually pretty good at math.

Of course, there’s also the not-small matter of looking for bias and logical fallacies. Is there ample evidence to support conclusions? Is this reproducible? Is correlation being confused with causation? Is one concept or study being applied to an entirely different set of circumstances? Is cognitive bias resulting in distorted conclusions?

My point is this: Expertise in scientific research is, like any other skill, something that takes years of dedication and study.

It’s become commonplace for some people to tell others, “Do your own research.” What they really mean, of course, is doing some type of secondary or tertiary research — researching other people’s research since the vast majority of us lack the skill or resources to conduct original research. Without a basic understanding of the concepts listed above, and many more, many of us also lack the ability to objectively “do our own research,” yet somehow many of us seem to think we can do just that.

I have to say that this is one of the most insulting things I’ve ever heard. That’s like saying, “Watch this 10-minute YouTube video and you too can play basketball like Donovan Mitchell!” “Skim this article some guy wrote about how to sing and you’ll be singing like Lady Gaga before you know it!” “Look at this meme and you too can perform a liver transplant!”

It’s completely and utterly ridiculous.

And dangerous.

People “doing their own research” during a pandemic — thinking they somehow know better than scientists who have dedicated their lives to finding ways to make ours better —  is foolish and is at least partially to blame for the staggering number of deaths we’ve seen as the pandemic enters its third year.

People skimming through the abstract of a study or two so they can confidently declare that medical professionals — in every single city, county and state in the country and every nation around the world, I might add — are involved in a vast conspiracy is not, in actuality, “research.”

I recently had an argument with a person who shall remain nameless after this person urged me to read one such “study.” I did read through it and caught an error in some of the math, which I pointed out while explaining that a math error so basic that even I, with my limited ability, caught it didn’t provide me with much confidence in the results.

I tried, for the umpteenth time, to explain that I place far more trust in researchers and scientists with far more knowledge and skill in the area of infectious disease than I have ever, or will ever, possess than I do in a supposed study being touted by an internet celebrity trying to sell me something — even if that “something” is just a preposterous conspiracy theory.

Something else we hear a lot these days is that we should respect one another’s opinions. I agree — we should. However, we’re not talking about whether pepperoni pizza is better than plain cheese pizza or our favorite song. We’re talking about situations in which a lay person’s opinion about the efficacy of vaccines and the most significant public health emergency of the past century isn’t as valid as literally hundreds of thousands of medical experts’ assessments and recommendations — it’s just not.

We all have our own areas of expertise and that’s a good thing. I can’t imagine what the world would be like if we all had to take care of every little thing that came up — human beings simply aren’t capable of being experts, or even competent, at everything. It’s certainly not a bad thing to admit that there are areas where other people have far more skills and knowledge, and it’s also certainly not a bad thing to trust those people, particularly when thousands — even millions — of them are in agreement.

And it’s certainly not a bad thing, in those situations, not to “do your own research.”