My dreams of coming to the United States started in the 10th grade. At that time, I was busy with school, but my brother, who was two years ahead of me, was in the 12th grade and about to graduate from high school. He was interested in coming to the United States, so he was applying to different universities and trying to fulfill the requirements for admission. Once he graduated, he applied and eventually got admitted to a school in the United States. Witnessing this intrigued me as well, and I became fascinated with the idea of studying in the United States.

I attended high school in Peshawar, Pakistan. Not many people went abroad for studies, especially to the United States, which was a rare occurrence. Most people who did go abroad did so after graduate school, often after completing medical school and then coming to the United States for residency. So, coming directly from high school was indeed a rare occurrence. In my entire batch, there were maybe one or two other students who took the same path and moved to the United States at that time. Everyone else opted for either engineering school, medical school, or continued with a traditional bachelor's degree at local colleges.

As I approached graduation, my interest in studying in the United States grew stronger. However, the most surprising thing happened: while all my friends were applying to different schools, I did not even apply to any college. My high school grades were not high enough to get into engineering school, but I didn't even apply for a bachelor's degree in any other subject either. I was 100% focused on getting to the United States and didn’t want to explore other options.

After finishing high school, I immediately enrolled in a six-month computer course because I wanted to pursue something in the field of computers. During this time, I also focused on improving my English. Near my house, there was an American Center, which I would visit regularly. It wasn't within walking distance, but it was accessible by bike or public transport. The center was very cozy and comfortable, with air-conditioned rooms, which was quite unusual because air conditioning was not common back then. I would spend a lot of time there, watching CNN and occasionally American movies. They also had a nice library where I would read different books.

While all this was happening, I applied for the TOEFL, an English test required for admission to American universities. I studied for it, even taking private tuition with an instructor to improve my English grammar. I took the TOEFL, and the score I received was good enough for most universities.

In 1992, there was no Internet, so I would go to the American Center, where they had a huge book with addresses of different universities. I would glance through the names of universities, recognizing a few, and then write letters to them, asking for information, brochures, and application forms. It was a long and tedious process. You would write to 10 or so universities, wait a month for them to receive your letter, and then hope they mailed the documents back to you. Sometimes, the mail would get lost, especially since international packages weren't that common, but occasionally, I would receive the information I requested.

So, I received some of those packages and would go through the brochures, which always had nice pictures and information about the universities. Once I got the application, I would fill it out and send it back. There were also application fees to consider, which made me think carefully about which schools to apply to since the fees were in dollars. Converting Pakistani rupees to dollars was expensive, so I only applied to a handful of universities. In the back of my mind, I knew which university I wanted to attend—it was the one my brother had already chosen, and it would have been nice to join him there. However, I wasn’t sure if I would be accepted, so I applied to some other schools as well.

When I applied to these universities, I needed to get a decent score on my TOEFL exam, along with reference letters from my high school principal. Back then, teachers didn’t have much time to write letters themselves, so I drafted the letter and presented it to the principal, who signed it and attached it to my application. Along with the application fee and other required documents, I sent everything to the school, and they accepted me. The next step was to receive the I-20 form from the university. By the time I received it, I had completed my six-month computer course.

I decided to enroll in another one-month computer course to strengthen my programming skills. Meanwhile, I needed to apply for an American visa, which was a challenging process. The visa application required not only admission to a reputable university but also proof that I had the finances to pay for my education and that I would eventually return to Pakistan rather than settle in the United States. To demonstrate my strong ties to my home country, we needed to draft documents showing my family’s land holdings. My father helped me with this, going to the village and city center to create a document that detailed the estimated value of our land holdings. However, that document alone wasn’t enough; I also needed bank statements showing adequate cash to cover my tuition. My father managed to collect some cash, and we generated bank statements to support my application.

With all my documents—admission letters, TOEFL scores, land holdings papers, and bank statements—I went to the American Embassy in Islamabad. To my surprise, the gentleman who interviewed me didn’t ask many questions. He glanced through the documents, and I believe I mentioned that my brother was already studying at the same university. He granted me the visa on the spot, with hardly a question or two. This was a major breakthrough in my life. When I think about it, life is full of such breakthroughs. If that gentleman had rejected me, my life trajectory could have been entirely different. Who knows where I would have ended up or what my circumstances might have been.

With the visa in hand, I began preparing for my journey. I gathered all my documents and basic necessities. I even had some suits tailored, not knowing that as a student, I wouldn’t really need them, but I still did it. I didn’t know much about what I would need in the United States, but I remember taking a briefcase with me instead of a backpack. Looking back, it seems ridiculous that a teenager, a student, would carry a briefcase as if I were an executive. But that’s what I thought was appropriate at the time. I put all my important documents—admission papers, passport, and so on—in the briefcase and headed to the airport.

One moment that stands out to me is the day of my flight from Peshawar to Karachi. My whole family came to see me off at the airport. My father came with me right to the very end, up to the point where visitors were allowed to go.

And then I waved to everyone. Just before entering the inside area, I looked back at my family. It turns out that was the last time I caught a glimpse of my father. But who could have known? In the moment, I was excited and focused on the journey ahead. A couple of years later, while I was in the United States, my father passed away, and I never saw him again. But he did so much for us—his sacrifices and efforts allowed us to study abroad and made me who I am today. That vision of him waving goodbye has stayed with me for the rest of my life.

After saying goodbye, my flight took me from Peshawar to Karachi. From there, I had a layover in Paris, and then I landed in New York. The flight was delayed; I believe it was an Air France flight since it stopped in Paris. When I landed in New York, I had a connecting flight to Kentucky, where my university, Morehead State University, was located in Morehead City. It was a small town with a population of just 25,000, 10,000 of whom were students. My brother was supposed to pick me up, but I had to go through Lexington first, as there wasn’t a direct flight to Morehead.

Navigating all of this was pretty complicated for a teenager who had never been out on his own, let alone out of the country. When I landed in New York, I went to the counter, and there happened to be an African American attendant. His accent was different from what I was used to, and I had trouble understanding him. He told me something in English about the flight being canceled, and that I had to wait for a long time, take a shuttle to a hotel, and then catch a connecting flight the next day. But I couldn’t grasp what he was saying. I asked him to repeat himself several times, but eventually, I just said, “Okay, thank you,” without really knowing what he had said.

I noticed that the other passengers who had been on the same flight were heading in one direction, so I followed them. Among them were one or two other students who were also traveling to the United States for the first time. We spoke in our native language and figured out together where to go and what was happening. There was one boy headed to another city and a girl going to a different city. We all took the shuttle together to the hotel. That first experience struck me hard—I thought to myself, “If this is how it’s going to be, it’s going to be a tough ride. I don’t even understand what these people are saying.”

The next day, when I finally landed in Lexington, my brother picked me up. It was a relief to see him. He drove me from Lexington to Morehead, where he already had a studio apartment with a bunk bed. I slept there, and my brother helped me settle in. He showed me how to register for classes, where the cafeteria was, how to find the library, and how to navigate everything. After that, everything else was relatively straightforward. Even though people in Morehead had different accents, I adapted quickly and could understand them well enough. After all, I had learned English back home, though I wasn’t as fluent. I got along in my classes and managed just fine.

I arrived in the summer, so I took my first class then—a sociology course. I focused on that one class and got an A, which gave me a good start and boosted my confidence. In the subsequent semester, I took more classes, usually more than the minimum 12 credits, sometimes 15 or even 18 credits. On one hand, you don’t want to take too many hours, but on the other, you want to graduate soon. The tuition cost was the same whether you took 12 hours or 18 hours, so I opted to take more credits to finish sooner.

So, I would go for the maximum credit hours even though it made studying much more difficult, especially as an international student lacking experience in the language and culture. Everything was new for us. My English was weak, but my math was very strong. I would take math classes, like calculus and geometry, which were 4 or 5 credit hours each, and I would always ace them because I was very strong in math. This helped boost my GPA, even if I scored a bit lower in English composition and other classes.

Now that I think about it, after getting into school and studying for a semester or two, I started going to the tutoring center, where older students would tutor you on different subjects. I might have gone there in the beginning, but after a year or so, I decided it was time for me to tutor others. I enrolled as a tutor and started teaching economics to other students. It’s amazing that even though I didn’t know much myself, I was tutoring American students, and they were learning from me. It was a remarkable experience.

I also remember that writing was always a challenge for me. Constructing a single sentence required deliberate effort, and writing a 7- or 8-page paper was a real struggle. I would go to the writing center for help, where they would correct my grammar, and I would make the necessary changes before presenting my papers in class. Presentations were a unique concept for us, as we didn’t have them in school back in Pakistan, at least not in those days. I had to present topics I knew little about, in a language I wasn’t fluent in, and without any presentation skills. But I managed to get through it. To improve my presenting skills, I joined a Toastmasters club, where they taught me how to present effectively.

In one of my English composition classes, I chose a topic related to cosmology. I don’t even remember the specific title, but it was about stars, cosmology, the universe, and so on. I had never read anything on the subject before, so I did some research, composed an essay, and presented it to the teacher. When I was presenting it to the class, it was difficult to explain such complex subjects, especially given my limited knowledge. My teacher pointed out that she wasn’t grasping what I was trying to say, and my explanation was, “It’s not you; it’s just that the topic itself is so complicated, which is why it’s difficult to understand.” Deep down, I knew I didn’t fully understand what I was talking about, but I somehow managed to pass the class.

Sometimes, I would take difficult classes at a local community college just to score well without affecting my overall GPA at the university. That was part of my journey of coming to the United States—facing issues, challenges, and navigating the university system.

In another blog, I’ll share my experiences as a student in the United States, how I graduated, and all the things I learned along the way. But here, I wanted to share my initial journey—my dreams of coming to the United States, getting into university, and going through those early phases. I hope I was able to convey my message clearly, and that people can find motivation and inspiration in my journey. To anyone thinking of studying in the United States, remember that anything is possible. You just have to work hard, plan, and do your best.

Before I end this blog, I’d like to share one anecdote. While I was going through the process of applying to different universities, a friend of mine approached me, saying he was also interested in going to the United States and wanted to do something there as well. I told him about the process, and he asked me to fill out the application for him. I agreed, but you know what? That guy never made it to the United States. Even though he got all the advice, he didn’t take the necessary action.

This story illustrates an important point: it’s good to plan and know what you want to do, but ultimately, you have to take action. My friend had to fill out his own application, study for the exams, and do the work himself. No one is going to spoon-feed you. In life, if you want to get things done, you have to take action. Action trumps everything else. Education, knowledge, and planning are valuable, but only to the extent that they lead to action. Without action, everything stops there, and all that planning and knowledge goes to waste.

So, for those of you who have a specific goal in mind, make sure you take that first step. After that, leave the rest to fate. You can only control what’s in your hands, and sometimes fate will determine your ultimate destiny. But at least plan, gain knowledge, and take action. Good luck to everyone!