- Reading time: 3 minutes
- Price: Free download
- Published: 3rd October 2026
- Word count: 610 words
- File format: Text
Personal statement example
On the stroke rehabilitation ward where I work as a healthcare assistant, physiotherapists sometimes ask patients to walk a short corridor while counting backwards in threes. I help by clearing the route and walking alongside. Watching people slow down or stop mid-sentence, I recognised the effect I had spent my final undergraduate year measuring, and I began to wonder how the laboratory version of the task related to what I was seeing. I want to study applied cognitive neuroscience because I am interested in that gap between controlled experiments and the messier settings where cognition actually matters.
My BSc in Psychology gave me a grounding in cognitive psychology, statistics and research methods, and a second-year module in biological psychology first made the brain feel like something I could reason about rather than just label. For my dissertation I ran a dual-task study with 28 student volunteers, measuring walking speed over a taped ten-metre course with and without a verbal fluency task. The design was simple, but I learned a great deal from it. I had to choose between counting and fluency tasks, pilot the timing with a stopwatch and then a phone app, and deal with the fact that some participants talked more slowly as well as walking more slowly, which made it hard to say which task was absorbing the cost. I analysed the data in R using paired comparisons. Walking speed dropped under the dual-task condition, as expected. More interesting to me was how much individual participants varied, and I discussed in my write-up why a group average might hide that.
That question led me to read beyond my course. Stanislas Dehaene's Reading in the Brain introduced me to the idea that cultural skills recruit brain regions that evolved for other purposes, and it showed me how imaging and behavioural evidence can be combined into a careful argument. I have also worked through introductory material on EEG, including how event-related potentials are averaged across trials. I have not used EEG myself, and I would welcome training in recording and analysing it, as it seems well suited to studying attention in tasks closer to everyday life.
My job has taught me things a laboratory could not. I help patients wash, dress and eat, and I record observations accurately during busy shifts. I have learned to notice when someone is more tired or distracted than usual and to report it clearly to nurses and therapists. I would not claim clinical expertise. Still, the work has shown me how much attention, fatigue and confidence shape what patients can do on a given day, and why research measures need to be practical for the people being tested.
Outside work I sing tenor in a community choir, and for the past year I have helped run a Thursday evening chess club at our local library, setting up boards and pairing newer players with more experienced ones. Neither is research, but both have kept me curious about learning and concentration. Watching a nine-year-old start to calculate two moves ahead instead of one has been a small pleasure in itself.
At postgraduate level I hope to strengthen my methodological skills, particularly in neuroimaging and programming beyond basic R, and to work on questions about attention and cognitive load in applied or clinical settings. Further ahead, I am interested in research roles within rehabilitation, where better measures of cognitive demand could help tailor therapy. I am organised, used to balancing shift work with study, and comfortable working with people who are unwell or anxious. I would bring a modest but genuine research grounding and a practical sense of where cognitive neuroscience might be useful.