JOURNEY OF A FIRST GEN STUDENT

BY SAYED ARIAN, MS3

Mr. Hashemi was writing a math problem on the chalkboard. The students began scribbling in their notebooks when suddenly the classroom door burst open. Several armed troops walked in and started grabbing students one at a time and dragging them outside. This was the typical situation in war-torn Afghanistan during the Soviet-Afghan war. Teenage boys were drafted into the chaos and had a couple of hours to gather their belongings and report for duty. One of these students was my father. After years of studying and hard work to remain at the top of his class, everything turned upside down. Within weeks of enrollment, he seized the opportunity to escape the war and seek refuge in the United States. With no understanding of English, and literally nothing but the clothes on his back, he decided his only option was to start working and begin making a living. My mother, also a war refugee, was the backbone of the family. With the restrictions on female education in Afghanistan, she also understood its value. My parents met in Queens, NY through a local mosque. That was where they started a family and also where their American Dream was born.

Fast-forward a decade and a half later. I found myself behind a desk, watching the teacher write a question on the chalkboard. Little did I know that I also faced a threat. Not in the form of armed men crashing through the door or winding up in a foreign country with no friends or family. The problems that I would come to face were not life threatening, however they also weren’t ones I could escape from. They manifested in the form of that science project that I could not ask for help on. That backpack that was fine to use for yet another year. The snacks at the end of the lunch line that I didn’t have $0.65 for. My two older sisters probably had it worse than I did since keeping up with the latest fashion trends required frequent trips to the mall (a place we often went for sight-seeing). They were additionally targeted for the hijabs they wore. A piece of cloth intended for protection became the crosshairs for people’s insults.

Although we faced these economic, intellectual, social, and religious barriers, there was one thing keeping us on track. The discipline that my parents had developed over years. After losing his father to illness as a toddler, it was this discipline that kept my father first rank among his peers. This discipline, that got him through 16-hour overnight shifts at the bus garage he practically lived in. This discipline, that allowed my mother to stretch resources thin even though it meant saying “no” to every toy we wanted to buy and trip we wanted to go on. We embodied this trait and strove to out-work the weaker hand we were dealt. We would not let our past determine our future, and our parents made sure of that.

Islam emphasizes the importance of abstaining from sexual relations until after marriage. Thus, it is tradition for Muslims to marry at a younger age, as to avoid unlawful courtship. My older sisters were proposed to immediately after finishing high school. As painful as it was, my father left the decision up to them and they chose to get married. Due to the long processing times for US Visas and the piles of paperwork that need to be completed, their progress, academically, had come to a halt. This is a common reason that women in the Middle East, such as my mother, less commonly pursue higher education and instead end up as homemakers. Even I began to search for suitable partners in high school and got married between my junior and senior year in 2012. Was this it? Did all his efforts lead to three married children and a few high school diplomas?

Medicine was a career reserved for the Crème de la crème in Afghanistan. The top performers in each class are offered the opportunity to attend medical school and become physicians. It is followed by engineering and law. The stereotypical doctor, engineer or lawyer career aspirations in immigrant households come from this competitiveness back home. It is a sign of elite status and increases the prestige of the respective families. I was exposed to medicine as early as high school when I shadowed an anesthesiologist. I fell in love with the hospital, the scrubs, and the tension in the OR. The regard my parents had for the field made it even more special, however it seemed too far out of reach. What were the chances I would be honored with a stethoscope? My father would have been one of the select few, given different circumstances. This desire was the driving force behind much of his efforts and may remain unfulfilled. I could see to this day, the new expression that had settled on his face when he gave up on this dream. His unrealized potential would never come to fruition through his children as he had hoped. Were these the lasting impacts of being an immigrant family in America? Was it even possible to break the cycle through pure will?

I will be the answer. That was the internal promise I made. My parents had not left me with any excuses to make. Sure, we struggled with certain aspects of life, but they never failed to meet our needs. In return, I owed them my absolute best. This new mentality made way for the progress to come. I went on to excel in college at DeSales University in Center Valley, PA. My wife and I decided to start a family and introduced Sajid, our son, to the world in 2014. It was a blessing and came with an added responsibility. Panera Bread, Chickie’s and Pete’s, the Lehigh Valley Airport, Survey Technology Resources, and Olympus America are a few of the places I worked at while pursuing my bachelor’s degree. Dr Robert Blumenstein, the dean of undergraduate studies and premed advisor for the college, played a large role in my preparation for medical school. He held monthly progress meetings, introduced me to med school admissions directors, and even got together a committee for mock interviews. I recall sitting across from his desk, discussing my average MCAT results and strategies to improve my score and reapply to medical school. Mentors like him make the American Dream possible.

After graduating with my B.S. in Biochem and Molecular Cell Biology, I worked for two years at Sharp Packaging in Allentown, PA as a Quality Assurance inspector. This was a financial relief within the house since there was finally more than one person working a full-time job. It was also an opportunity to save for medical school, should I get accepted. Who knew affording school was as hard as getting in? My father was offered a position as a translator for the Department of Defense in Afghanistan which took a lot of the burden off our shoulders. My oldest sister, Besma, just started dental school in Florida, while my second sister, Arefa, and younger brother, Adil, both finished nursing school and work at LVHN in Allentown. Just 30 years ago, it was war that had ended his hopes of becoming a doctor. Ironically, it was war that allowed me to move to Philadelphia and secure a seat at the Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine. Our daughter Tara was born the last day of orientation week, marking the beginning of a new journey. I now work my way through my clinical years as a rising M4 with aspirations to become a surgeon. I attribute my current achievements first to God’s grace, then to my parents who directed me on this path, then to my mentors who transferred to me their knowledge, and finally to my wife and kids who keep me going. This story is not over. I am waiting to don my long white coat and maybe then make the American Dream come true.