As an international scholar, my academic dreams belong to my family, too

From ScienceMag:

I’ll never forget the tremor in my sister’s voice when she called me that Sunday evening last year. “Daddy collapsed,” she said. “He’s in the hospital.” My father, my biggest cheerleader, was in critical condition back home in Nigeria. The doctors suspected a stroke. In that moment, my world tilted. I paced my tiny apartment in Florida, wishing I could teleport home. I was a graduate student with barely enough money to cover rent, let alone a plane ticket to Lagos. My family needed me, and I felt powerless to help. For weeks, every WhatsApp notification sent my heart racing. Some nights I stared at my notes until the words blurred. My grades slipped. If I stayed on this path, the dream I had come here to pursue would be in jeopardy.

That dream wasn’t mine alone. My family had sacrificed a lot to help me pursue my goal of studying abroad at a world-class university. I earned a bachelor’s degree in Nigeria, published research, saved every naira I could, and sent out several graduate applications. When I received an offer from the University of South Florida I was elated. But reality soon kicked in—although the offer came with a tuition waiver, I would still have to cover visa fees, flights, and living expenses. I took on freelance gigs and sold off electronics, furniture, and clothes, but I still fell short. Just as I was about to turn down the offer, my big sister learned of my dilemma and my family rallied to support me. They pooled resources, giving up things I knew they couldn’t easily spare.

When I landed in Miami, I carried the weight of their hopes with me, and that responsibility became my compass. Knowing how air pollution had scarred the community where I grew up, I chose a project on carbon sequestration. Whenever I was tempted to settle for “good enough,” I heard my father’s voice urging me on.

Then, a year into my program, came the news that he was ill. After agonizing for several weeks, I finally came to accept that flying home wasn’t realistic. Money aside, traveling on a student visa was too risky—if something went wrong with the paperwork, I might not be able to return. Instead, I emptied my bank account and sent the money home to cover hospital bills, maxing out credit cards to cover my rent and other bills. The guilt continued to gnaw at me, but I kept it to myself.

A couple weeks after my sister’s call, one of my professors noticed something was amiss and called me into their office. For the first time, I told someone in my professional world what was happening. They listened without judgment, offered encouragement, and connected me with the university counseling center. Those counseling sessions steadied me. My friends did, too, showing up with groceries when I couldn’t afford them and dragging me to the library so I wouldn’t be isolated. They reminded me that I wasn’t carrying this weight alone.

Their support helped me keep showing up, one day at a time. So did my mother’s words. On every call, she said in Igbo, “Stay in school for your father, inugo? That’s what he would want.”

Eventually, my father’s health stabilized. I’ll never forget the relief of seeing him smile on a video call, or the pride in his voice when he called me “the American scholar” again. When I told him months later about the choice I’d faced, he chuckled softly and said, “Why would you drop out of school? Did I not teach you better?” His comment lifted a weight I didn’t realize I still carried.

Looking back, that season taught me lessons I’ll hold forever. I learned to ask for help without shame and lean on my support system of friends and classmates. Most importantly, I learned to keep sight of why I came here in the first place. Now, when I feel overwhelmed, I pause and remind myself that I’m not just chasing a degree—I’m trying to solve scientific problems that matter beyond myself, and I’m honoring my family. That perspective keeps me grounded and pushes me to give my best even on the hardest days.

Like so many Africans chasing big dreams across the Atlantic Ocean, I walk on the wings of sacrifice and love. When I earned my master’s degree in August, it felt less like a personal victory and more like giving my family the win they deserved. Their belief in me will carry me through the next phase of my journey.

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