I have been thinking about something I promised myself I would revisit once graduation was behind me: my ‘why.’
I think that anyone who becomes extraordinary in their career has a reason that extends beyond the work itself. An astronaut might aim to push the boundaries of human knowledge. An athlete might compete for their family. A writer might create to make people feel less lonely. Whatever the profession, the people who leave a lasting impact usually have something deeper that drives them.
Before I curate my course schedule for the coming year, I want to force myself to answer a simple question: Why am I choosing this path?
I enjoy building more than the act of construction itself. I love the idea of creating something larger than myself, specifically, something so fundamental to everyday life that people barely notice until it’s gone. No one wakes up grateful for the highway that gets them to work, but everyone notices the moment a lane closes and traffic comes to a standstill. The best infrastructure quietly does its job.
When I was younger, I couldn’t understand how people could work together to create something as massive as a city while simultaneously agreeing to follow such ordinary rules. We stay in our lane while driving. We walk on sidewalks. Cyclists have designated bike lanes. We step into elevators without questioning the fact that a metal box is about to launch us several stories into the air. None of this happens by accident; the society we create relies heavily on the trust we have in others without us even realizing it. We trust that cars will stay in their lane, cyclists in theirs, people on the sidewalk, etc. We trust that a group of engineers designed these things with safety at the forefront of their mind. We blindly trust that those engineers are appropriately educated. We trust that everyone involved has the public’s best interest at heart. We trust all these things when we enter a building, get in our cars, or walk around our own homes.
The trust that the average person has in civil engineers is so deeply rooted, blind, and inherent in us all. Civil engineers design the framework that allows millions of people to move through the world without constantly negotiating how to do it. I realized I wanted to be one of the people responsible for creating that order.
There is something remarkable about creating systems so integrated into daily life that people only notice them when they fail.
To me, civil engineers are inventors.
Inventors don’t always create something people ask for. More often, they create something that people never imagined they needed until they experience life with it. Before Steve Jobs introduced the iPhone, few people could have imagined carrying a computer in their pocket. Today, it’s difficult to imagine daily life without one. A straw isn’t necessary to drink from a cup, yet restaurants routinely provide one because it makes the experience easier for some. Innovation isn’t always about necessity. Often, it’s about improving the way people live.
That is what infrastructure does. It quietly improves life.
So, my why is not a single reason. It is a collection of experiences, interests, and values that eventually pointed me toward the decision I made when I was 18. To clarify, I think having to make such a life-altering decision at such a young age is insane, but I wouldn’t be able to propose a better alternative to the current college process, so it is what it is.
I grew up visiting construction sites. I loved seeing the parts of a building that disappear once the project is finished. Exposed rebar isn’t beautiful, but it is essential. Concrete, steel, and structural design are hidden behind drywall, paint, and carefully chosen finishes. Most people admire the visible parts of a home but the parts that exist beneath the surface are the parts that make it stand. I think that is quite meaningful.
Even though exposed steel isn’t aesthetically pleasing, its strength deserves respect. It allows everything else to exist. At the same time, vines climbing a column or architecture that catches someone’s eye matter too. Beauty may not provide structural support, but it is what draws people in. Both are necessary. I think people are built the same way. We often notice appearances first, but the unseen framework of character is what allows someone to stand.
People also tend to embrace what is familiar. Construction was familiar to me from an early age, so it never felt intimidating. I enjoyed math and I loved problem-solving. Whether it was puzzles – which I still do to unwind – or a difficult homework assignment, I was always drawn to challenges. Civil engineering offered something I already understood while continuously presenting harder problems to solve. Looking back, choosing it felt almost inevitable, even if I couldn’t explain why until now.
Whenever I questioned whether I had chosen the right major during college, my professors reassured me without even realizing it. They possessed a contagious enthusiasm for their work. Their passion wasn’t performative; it was very genuine. Watching people who cared so much about what they built and taught made me want to care that deeply too. Their devotion is evidence to support the claim that what civil engineers do matters. I hope to inspire that same curiosity in others. In fact, a large part of why I enjoy writing along with civil engineering is that I want to curate a space that encourages deeper thinking in myself and others.
So now … finally: my why!
My why is my best future self. Just as a structure depends on the integrity of what lies beneath the surface, so do people. And civil engineering is a way for me to embrace that depth.
