The sun was rising as we drove across the Minnesota state line, marking the moment my family and I left the only home we had ever known. I wanted to feel excited about my new Ph.D. program, but all I could feel was guilt. We were moving to New York so that I could pursue my goal of becoming a professor. The move was good for me professionally, but I worried about uprooting my husband and daughters. I also feared that—with the demands placed on me in grad school—I wouldn't be able to give my kids the childhood they deserved. The 3 years that have passed since then haven't been easy. But I've realized that I'm not the only person who benefits from my education. My kids do, too.
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