This August marks ten years since I left Nepal to pursue higher education in the United States. Born and raised in Kathmandu, I had just completed my bachelor's degree in microbiology from St. Xavier's College when I packed my bags and set off, with a head full of textbook knowledge and a heart full of hopes. I thought I was ready. And academically, I probably was. But culturally? Not at all.
One of my earliest wake-up calls came during my first biology exam at Southeast Missouri State University. The first question was worth ten points, and I filled an entire page with my answer. By the time I reached the second-to-last question, time ran out. I lost points, not because I didn't know the answers, but because I hadn't yet learned that here, less is often more. It's not how much you write, but what you write, even if it's just a sentence. That one exam taught me more than just biology; it taught me the value of time, clarity, and precision.
But academics were only one part of the challenge. The bigger shock came from cultural differences. In Nepal, we're taught not to speak bluntly. We tiptoe around confrontation, speak in implications, and avoid disagreeing directly, especially with elders or teachers. In the U.S., I was stunned to see students openly challenge professors or critique group members' ideas. I struggled to be assertive. I stayed quiet in meetings, hesitant to ask questions, unsure how to disagree politely. I carried my confusion silently.
Balancing coursework with on-campus jobs added another layer. I had never worked during college back home. Suddenly, I was juggling assignments, lab work, and part-time shifts in the dining hall or library. I didn't complain, but the quiet exhaustion followed me everywhere. It took time to learn how to ask for help, how to advocate for myself, and how to rest without guilt.
One of the most meaningful lessons I've learned in these ten years is about dignity, especially the dignity of labor. In Nepal, people are still often judged and accorded respect based on their occupation. Here, in The States, I've seen janitors, bus drivers, food service workers, and medical professionals treated with equal respect. Their work is valued, not looked down upon. That shift has deeply shaped me, and it's something I hope we can carry back home: the belief that every profession deserves respect.
Now, when I meet new Nepali students, bright-eyed and full of ambition, I see a reflection of my younger self. Determined and confident, but often unprepared for what I call the "second curriculum": the emotional, cultural, and interpersonal learning that happens outside the classroom.
Life changes us. Sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly. Ten years later, I have changed. I'm no longer afraid to speak up. I've learned that feedback isn't criticism, it's an opportunity. It also teaches you how to put your opinions forward and still be respectful of others. I've come to see struggle not as a sign of failure, but as a necessary step toward growth.
That's why it's so important for students heading abroad not just to pack their degrees and documents but to prepare emotionally and mentally. Life abroad isn't a fairy tale. It won't always be smooth. But what makes the journey meaningful is how you adapt, how you learn, and how you grow from each experience.
In addition to that, it is equally important for our academic culture to place greater emphasis on providing students with international exposure via student exchange programs, attending international conferences, and training opportunities. Such experiences not only prepare students for getting higher education abroad but also equip them with skills that can help transform the education system for the better.
I have experienced this firsthand. As I am near the completion of my PhD in biomedical science from the University of Toledo, with research focus on hypertension (high blood pressure), a condition affecting millions globally, I carry with me more than academic knowledge. I carry resilience, humility, and empathy these years have taught me. These are lessons I could never have learned in a textbook. And in many ways, I believe that is my truest achievement in all these years away from home.
Aryal, MS is a PhD Candidate (Molecular Medicine Track) at the Center for Hypertension and Precision Medicine
