In the process, I discovered that nothing matters to me more than helping young people find the confidence and capacity to achieve their dreams
The first time I realized I wasn’t just an English teacher, but also a cultural ambassador, was during an impromptu Q&A session with my students.
I had just finished a lesson on persuasive essays when a hand shot up.
“Do Americans really eat fast food every day?” the student asked.
“Why do you call it ‘football’ when you use your hands?” another chimed in.
It wasn’t long before I had a full list of the students’ queries—about high school cliques, the Super Bowl, and the way we elect presidents, among other things. In that moment, I saw my role for what it is: a bridge between cultures.
My students are 13- to 19-year-olds living in Luxembourg. I began working with them when I left a solid job in the space industry—the job I’d been working toward throughout my education—to travel here from the U.S. on a Fulbright Program grant. Helping young people develop their English skills through grammar lessons and essay writing (and discussions about American culture) has been rewarding in ways I never could have anticipated.
In fact, I never imagined that I’d be teaching English at all.
I studied engineering, and at one point, my dream was to build rockets. At Tufts, I double-majored in mechanical engineering and mathematics, with aspirations of designing space landers or rovers to support planetary exploration. I was a STEM ambassador, a member of the Tufts Society for Latinx Engineers and Scientists, and a mathematics tutor. My love for engineering came from the process of design—sketching an idea, making calculations, building, testing, and improving. During my time at Tufts, a particularly memorable moment was when my team went through more than a hundred iterations of a structural design before we got it just right. When our professor built and tested it, and it performed exactly as we predicted, I was awestruck. That experience helped solidify my belief in pushing the boundaries of possibility.
At the same time, I began to recognize that I found deep fulfillment in teaching. My job as a STEM ambassador was to introduce students from underrepresented backgrounds to the possibilities of engineering. I saw myself in them: kids with big ideas who just needed someone to show them what was possible.
It was during that outreach work that I started thinking seriously about education. I loved explaining complex concepts in a way that made them accessible and exciting, and I realized that teaching used the same problem-solving energy that engineering did.
I had already been working for two years as a space systems engineer for Northrop Grumman when I decided to apply for the Fulbright. I was uncertain at first, but when I spoke to Boris Hasselblatt, my former math professor, who has remained a mentor to me, I learned about his own Fulbright experience. He helped me see that, even though letting go of my job felt like a big risk, teaching as a Fulbrighter might be the perfect opportunity to explore my passion further.
As someone who immigrated to the U.S. when I was young, I especially cherish my work with students who have recently arrived in Luxembourg. Making up nearly half of Luxembourg’s population, immigrants to the country come from places like Syria and Cape Verde, and my students arrive with vastly different levels of English; in some cases, they also have experienced trauma in their journeys. Their resilience, humor, and eagerness to learn while defying the odds remind me daily why I chose this path.
These students have shown me that education is not just about transferring knowledge; it’s about fostering relationships, encouraging curiosity, and helping young people believe in themselves. Their determination is inspiring—they are so ready to learn and adapt. I’ve had students stay after class just to talk about their goals, their fears, and their dreams. Some of them hope to study in English-speaking countries, while others simply want to feel more confident in a language that often seems intimidating. Watching their transformation—from hesitant speakers to confident communicators—has been the most rewarding aspect of my time here.
Beyond the classroom, I have also found other ways to connect with students. One of the best has been through soccer—football, as it’s known here. Every Thursday, teachers play against students in an informally competitive match. It’s an incredible way to build relationships beyond the classroom walls. On the field, language barriers disappear. A perfectly timed pass, a well-placed goal: these are universal.
Another tool in my teaching arsenal is humor. I’ve found that jokes, especially dad jokes, are a powerful equalizer. I sprinkle them throughout my lessons, often playing on English idioms or cultural references. It’s an easy way to break the ice and create an atmosphere in which students feel comfortable engaging. Even when they roll their eyes, I know they secretly enjoy it.
One of my most memorable moments came when a student who had barely spoken in class asked if I would be a chaperone on the group’s school trip to Paris. It was a simple request, but it signified trust and a deepening relationship. And it reinforced what I was slowly beginning to understand: My role here is not just about teaching English—it’s about establishing a strong enough relationship with these students to convince them that they belong, that they have a voice, and that their experiences, no matter how difficult, do not define them.
To return to that realization I had as a student at Tufts, that you can push the boundaries of what’s possible, one of my favorite quotes comes from John Steinbeck’s essay “Paradox and Dream”: “The fact that we have this dream at all is perhaps an indication of its possibility.”
That line sticks with me, and it has guided my approach to both engineering and teaching. If we can imagine something—whether it’s building a rocket or helping students believe in their potential—then it’s possible, even if the path is unclear. That mindset has shaped my approach to challenges, both in the classroom and in life. It’s the belief that no matter how daunting something seems, there is almost always a way forward.
I try to pass that on to my students, especially those who have faced significant hardships. I want them to see that their experiences, though difficult, are also strengths. Their perspectives are valuable, and their futures are not defined by their pasts.
As my time in Luxembourg comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on what’s next. Graduate school is on the horizon, either in the U.S. or Europe, and my long-term goal is to become a professor. I want to balance research with teaching, knowing that education will always be a central part of my life. In many ways, teaching and engineering share common ground; both require creativity, problem-solving, and a belief in the power of possibility.
Whether explaining English grammar or designing a space mission, my goal remains the same: to inspire curiosity, to challenge assumptions, and to help others see the world—and themselves—in a new light.
