One of my mom’s favorite stories about me took place 21 years ago, when I was just two years old. I grew up in a quaint, rural Iowa town with a population of 423, a co-op on the corner and no stop lights still to this day. The rolling fields of gold in the heart of America were, and are, distant from the roaring mountains of the Carpathian Alps in Romania. My mom, a Hungarian immigrant from the Transylvanian region of Romania, was determined to teach me the Hungarian language. Already stubborn at the age of two, I found it exhausting and useless to speak a different language to each of my parents when I knew they spoke English to each other. My solution was simple: I would stop learning Hungarian. It was a headache for my mom, and a struggle for myself as I already had begun to wrestle with my multicultural identity.

Luckily for both me, and my mom, I overcame my stubborn streak and conceded to her pleas. With my parents’ persistence and empowerment, I learned both to speak Hungarian and to balance the dual nature of my identity. At my mom’s family events, my American dad and Székely grandfather relied on me to translate and convey not only their words, but their tone and emotions as well. At school, I was asked to speak at fairs and events to other students because of my heritage. I also balanced my identity as the daughter of an immigrant mother and a father who served in the U.S. military. From a young age, my parents were intentional about instilling a complimentary understanding of service and responsibility in my brother and I. Their definitions of service varied, but their intent was the same. After being exposed to the military through air shows at Offutt Air Force Base, I followed my dad’s footsteps in military service and headed to the U.S. Air Force Academy with only a backpack on my shoulders and boots in my left hand.

To say those four years at the Academy transformed me would be an understatement. I learned to be an effective follower, to make critical decisions with limited information, to rely on a team, to face fears and to recognize my own faults while shamelessly asking for help. While the days of water survival courses, being tear-gassed, reciting Air Force history and knowledge and running to class are behind me, the purpose that I discovered in those four years remains ingrained in me. It is for this same purpose that I ended up in the Master of Global Affairs program at Notre Dame, the wholehearted pursuit of good for all people across the world.

Of the many lessons the Air Force Academy instilled in me, one has stood out as the most pertinent in my short time as a commissioned officer. The idea is simple: wherever you end up and whoever you speak to, you could be the only U.S. service member an individual interacts with. Their perspective, understanding and outlook on the U.S. military, whether at home or abroad, could be entirely defined by their impression of you. This lesson is one I carry over into my time at the Keough School. While my words and actions don’t speak on behalf of the organization I serve, I recognize the impacts of my character in shaping people’s perceptions of the military.

My identity at Notre Dame is not only as a student, but also as an Air Force officer. Whether in or out of uniform, I am still a service member, and my actions and words reflect my character and my career. Part of this responsibility at Notre Dame is to offer exposure and be an open resource for friends and classmates to better understand what being a U.S. service member means. In my three months on campus so far, as much as I am a student, I am equally an ambassador.

The duality of my identity is not unlike what I experienced so many years ago with my mom. It has taken time to wrestle with and become confident in representing the military while maintaining a student status. In several classroom and personal settings, I have realized that being a student is one of the most beneficial ways to grow, have meaningful discussions and gain perspective.

The setting of academia fosters crucial conversations and important relationships that have allowed me to talk more about my personal experiences in the service and what this program means for my future. I realized that my time at the Keough School requires me to understand where the new balance is in my identity and responsibility of being a military officer in an academic setting. Above all, I embrace and balance my dual identity to provide exposure as an individual who wears the uniform. A reminder that each has their own stories, lived histories and experiences that have led them to raise their right hand.

The powerful saying “God, Country, Notre Dame” is not a suggestion when I walk by the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on my way around campus. It is an essential part of the identity of the University, and as both a student and military officer, it is a joy and an honor to be able to live that motto daily to the best of my abilities.

Originally published by Nora Aschoff at keough.nd.edu on November 22, 2024.