It is my first hour in America, and 6-almost-7-year-old me cannot wait to get off the train connecting us from the plane to the airport. It had been a day-long flight with dreadful layovers from Cameroon to France and from France to the U.S. All I wanted to do was see my father, whom I had not seen in a year, while he got settled in America and prepared for our arrival and a new life across the Atlantic Ocean.
Away from my neighbors, whom I visited almost daily, playing with the newest toys. Away from my aunts and uncles, who spoiled my brother and me every time we stepped into their house. Away from the lady who sold the fluffiest, warmest puff-puffs outside our apartment complex every morning. To say this was a new beginning would be quite an understatement.
The first day of middle school was an introduction to how serious academia was. It was also the first time, albeit not the last, that a teacher had said, “This will prepare you for high school.” Every time during those three years that my teachers discussed high school prep, I was left confused. I mean, there is no way high school can be as scary as they make it seem. All my parents ever told me up until now was to do well in school, and everything would be alright.
The first day of high school came, and I realized I did not know how to study. Profound changes would need to be made in my learning style, as I could not just read my textbooks once and expect to cruise through anymore. Career choices became a serious topic in ninth9th grade. I had to pick a pathway for my dual enrollment program and stick with it until graduation.
Parents in Cameroon hope to see their children go to school. Unfortunately, for reasons including cost and available seats, it is not always possible to send them to receive university-level education. According to the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, Cameroon had room to accept 300,000 students into universities in 2020. About 450,000 applications left approximately 150,000 students without a chance to receive tertiary education. Many travel out of the country for better opportunities, not just for themselves but for their families. My parents took that very risk to ensure that we would get a quality education and a better opportunity to find prosperous futures for ourselves.
When my parents found out in middle school that math was my favorite subject, they did not hesitate to help me every time I needed help with my homework. They steered me towards science and math because they had been working in these fields for years, and knew the opportunities that it could bring. In the end, it was an easy decision for me to choose engineering as my pathway.
African immigrant parents work hard in their countries to be able to move overseas to provide a better life for their families. Based on their experience — where they came from and what they had to go through to get to where they are — they push their children to be greater than them. Education and the job market are tremendous struggles in their home countries, and they never want to see their children experience the same plight.
To any immigrant or child of an immigrant: you may have once felt that your parents could have reacted less to your math test scores and more to your overall grade. It is a byproduct of the care for your future that makes them want to make sure that every step you are taking will lead you further and further away from the path they once had to take. Even as an adult and a Jacket, I am sure that they still inquire about your grades. They have seen that you are capable of remarkable things and want to continue steering you that way. No matter how often my parents try to explain what they do in their careers, I will never fully understand. But I do understand that it allowed us to make a life for ourselves on a new continent.
Give your parents a call; I’m sure your absence from home has created an emptiness greater than they’d like to admit.