That’s my office at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. Come say hi!
Academia is not perfect. But for many of us, it remains the most accessible and reliable system we have for helping people, especially students from disadvantaged backgrounds, achieve economic, social, and intellectual mobility.
This truth came into sharp focus again as I listened to the powerful 2025 Harvard commencement address by a fellow immigrant, born in Ethiopia. You can watch it here. Like the speaker, I came to the United States as an “alien”—driven by hope, hard work, and a belief that education could change lives. And it has. I’m now a Harvard-trained professor, and I can honestly say that academia has transformed not only my life but the lives of my family and friends. Thank you academia!
But I didn’t always feel this way.
There have been moments when I was ready to walk away from it all, when the “ivory tower” felt more like a fortress of burnout, ego, and misplaced priorities than a place for learning and growth. Let me share one example. It’s not the only one, but it’s seared into my memory.
Fall 2017: My Worst Semester in Graduate School
It was my hardest semester. Many friends (mostly at Harvard and MIT) were struggling. Struggling with research, personal issues, mental health. The pressure was suffocating. Then in October, a devastating event happened. An amazing Harvard undergraduate student that I knew passed away. It shook the community. You can read about one account of that time in this Crimson article. But the article only scratches the surface. Behind closed doors, people were hurting.
The very next day, I remember writing to a colleague: “I’m done with academia.” I was angry, heartbroken, and disillusioned. How could we call this a place of learning when the well-being of students seemed like an afterthought?
At one point, I told a friend: “Even if I finish my PhD, I can’t become a professor. There’s too much blood on the hands of professors. I don’t want to be part of a system that prioritizes awards, grants, and prestige over the health and wellness of students.”
That was my truth then.
The System Is Flawed—But We’re Also Part of It
The reality is that academia is both a system and a community. And like all systems, it reflects the values of those who participate in it. Professors, students, administrators: we all carry some responsibility. Systemic change requires constant reform. It also requires courage.
I often wonder why so many brilliant people end up in industry (e.g., Google Brain), seemingly leaving academia behind. For some, it’s about opportunity. For others, it’s about survival.
But over time, my perspective has shifted. I’ve encountered professors who are deeply committed to their students’ growth and well-being. I’ve seen programs and projects that genuinely change lives. And I’ve come to realize that as long as I can stay true to my principles, and use my position to help others, I’m okay with failing by some external metric. In fact, I welcome it.
Because anyone who isn’t failing at something is probably not trying hard enough.
Reaching Out and Reaching Forward
If you’re struggling in school, you’re not alone. Maybe you’re in school to support your family. That’s valid. Maybe you’re there because you love to learn. That’s valid too. There’s no “wrong” reason to be in school, only your own journey to make sense of.
As a professor, my job isn’t just to teach. It’s to help you grow and to build a support network around you. There will be hard times. But we can face them together.
Over the past few years, I’ve found the deepest meaning in my work with NaijaCoder, an initiative aimed at empowering young people in Nigeria through technical education. Watching our alumni grow and excel has been one of the greatest joys of my life. It reminds me that education is not about titles or tenure. It’s about transformation.
A Hopeful Commitment
Yes, the system needs fixing. But I haven’t given up on academia. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s possible to make it better. Because there are still people who care more about students than status. Because in every classroom, in every lab, in every student from Lagos to Urbana-Champaign, I see potential.
To every student reading this: Relax, and reach out. You don’t have to do it alone. And to every professor: Let’s do better. Our legacy is not in our publications, but in the people we uplift.
P.S. If you’re in a tough place right now, please know that it’s OK to ask for help. Failing isn’t the end. It’s often the beginning of something more honest, more human, and more lasting.
Why (and How) Things Work 