Senior Alice Choi, 22, is about to step out of University of Alaska Anchorage and into the world. She's ready.
She leaves with a biological sciences degree, a 3.59 GPA, leadership and academic accolades and a one-way ticket to dental school in Arizona -- her dream. But the journey was arduous, often discouraging and sometimes as bruising as a brick wall.
Choi grew up in a small village in South Korea. At age 10, she visited her grandparents and an aunt living in Anchorage. She fell in love with the state's beauty and dreamed of returning. Five years later, against the wishes of her father, her grandparents and aunt, she came to stay.
With not a word of English in her vocabulary, Choi leaped into high school, right into freshman biology. She'd be a nurse someday, she believed.
Life got complicated quickly. Choi barely survived biology, and only by memorizing sentences she didn't understand, and then parroting them back on tests. She hated the subject, she decided, and banished any notions of ever being a health professional.
The rest of her life wasn't any easier. Both grandparents had debilitating diseases and cancer. Her free time was consumed transporting her grandparents to all their medical appointments, translating insurance records and medical bills. "Some people called them walking hospitals," Choi said.
Her grandfather slid into dementia. Sometimes he grew angry and loud. One day at her grandmother's medical appointment, the doctor pulled Choi aside and said the elder had only six months to live.
The gloom of her grandparents' illnesses nearly sank her. Her toughest days included sleeping in a chair beside one or the other, hospitalized at Providence Alaska Medical Center. At daybreak, she'd cross over to UAA, change clothes in her parked car, and head to class. Employed as a respite caregiver for home health care agencies, she squeezed in 10-20 hours a week to help pay for school.
Exhausted and discouraged, sometimes she lay in bed and cried. What would ever become of her, she wondered.
But when the student is ready, the teacher appears. Her burden, her grandmother, showed her the way. Grandma defied her six-month death sentence for three years. She did it by living the mantra she ardently pressed upon her struggling granddaughter: Never give up.
"It was the most important lesson she ever taught me," Choi said. Over rough spots in high school and college, she would dig deep for that anchor. And as consuming as caring for her grandparents was, the process began to influence how she imagined her future.
To ease her grandma's last six months, Choi asked what one special thing might she do for her? She imagined a trip, or a once-in-a-lifetime luxury or pleasure to brighten her last days.
Yes, her grandmother wanted something. She wanted dentures that actually fit, so she could better enjoy food for all the days she had left. Choi did the work to make it happen.
She watched how her poor grandfather, with just five teeth left, cared for them religiously. He brushed with toothpaste every morning, baking soda at noon, and salt at night. He treasured those teeth because he loved to eat.
Choi began to think about how important the mouth is, as our gateway to so many relational experiences—from conversation and self-expression, to the pleasures of food and drink.
And she had to admit as she read up on her grandparents' diseases to try and help them, she started finding the material interesting. She befriended some of the doctors. She remembers routinely bumping into one on his frequent jogs—rain, snow or shine—through UAA's campus. He always stopped and chatted.
She began to dream about a future again. The skills of a dentist would be a way to help people have good oral health so they could communicate with confidence and enjoy life's culinary pleasures.
With a goal in mind, Choi dropped into overdrive. Dental school is competitive and she wanted to present her best self. In addition to her Alaska Performance Scholarship, she won an Honors College scholarship, a National Science Foundation research grant, and earned the campus title of 2015 Woman of Excellence for her character and good work. She served in student government and connected with other predental students in a new campus club.
She pursued job-shadows at local dental offices and clinics. This was one of the most bruising experiences. No one returned calls. Next she set out on foot, going office-to-office, delivering a personal letter asking for an opportunity.
Three, four, five rounds of effort, and not a single callback. But by now, her grandma's mantra was hers. She kept circling back, checking in. One day, just like that, a secretary gave her a dentist's email address. Within days, he wrote back. Doors swung open for job shadows at four clinics. She did them all.
Last fall, Choi agreed to step up on the stage at Wendy Williamson Auditorium and share her story. The convocation event welcomes staff and faculty back to campus, and stories are chosen for their inspiration. Choi's was as direct as they get: Obstacles can be your opportunities. Caring for her grandparents had given her a life path.
Choi closed her story with big news: She'd just taken her dental school entrance exam. Now it was pins-and-needles, wait-and-see.
She prepared for rejection. Her application was later than most; her grades weren't perfect. But if rejection came, Choi knew she'd just apply again.
Instead, Choi got the "Congratulations" call and letter. She starts dental school in Arizona in July. This time, she didn't have to knock twice.
Kathleen McCoy works at UAA where she highlights campus life in social and online media.