I still remember the day I walked into the career services office at university for the first time. I didn’t know it then, but that simple decision would shift the trajectory of my life. As an international student in a new country, figuring out the job market felt like walking through a maze blindfolded. I had my degree in hand, a head full of dreams, and a heart weighed down with uncertainty.
Back home, everything was familiar. The streets, the language, even the chaos had a rhythm I understood. But here, every step required conscious effort. Every form, every job portal, and every interview felt like a test of how well I could adapt — not just as a student, but as someone trying to belong in a professional world that often felt closed off to people like me.
What helped me push through that fog was structure — and the first bit of structure came from my university’s career cell. They weren’t just there to hand out CV templates or tick boxes. They listened. They asked the right questions. They helped me polish a CV that didn’t just list skills, but told a story. My story. With their help, I started seeing opportunities instead of obstacles. I applied consistently, week after week, even when rejections piled up. I tailored every application like it was the only one that mattered.
And something began to shift.
Every rejection taught me to be sharper. Every interview — even the ones that went nowhere — made me better. I realized what made me stand out wasn’t flashy achievements, but quiet consistency. I showed up. I did the work. I learned how to connect the dots between what I studied and what employers were looking for.
One of the biggest hurdles was visa sponsorship. Let’s be honest — a lot of companies don’t want to deal with it. But I learned not to let that silence me. I was upfront from the start. I told them what I needed. And I learned something important: companies will take a chance on you if they believe in your potential. Not all — but some. And that’s enough.
Along the way, I built bridges. I reached out to alumni, to professionals on LinkedIn, to people whose stories felt like mine. Many didn’t respond — but the ones who did? They mattered. Their advice gave me clarity. Their referrals opened doors. That human connection made the difference.
Eventually, I landed a role as an Embedded Systems Engineer — something I had worked toward since starting my Master’s in Embedded Electronics. It wasn’t luck. It was the result of a hundred little decisions: the modules I picked, the projects I built, the nights I spent learning what the curriculum didn’t cover. I didn’t come from a traditional background in electronics, but I brought something else to the table — grit, curiosity, and the willingness to learn.
The interview process was tough. Three stages — each more intense than the last. A panel interview with five people was the final test. I was nervous. But I had prepared like my life depended on it. And when I didn’t know the answer, I didn’t pretend. I said, “I don’t know, but I’m eager to learn.” That honesty, I think, sealed the deal.
Since then, I’ve grown into a Senior Engineer. The journey wasn’t linear. It never is. But I kept showing up. I kept learning. I treated every challenge as a classroom. That’s the thing about being an international student — you’re always learning, not just academically but in life. You adapt. You stretch. You survive — and then, slowly, you thrive.
Now, when I think about career growth, I don’t wait for it to come to me. I seek it out. I look at where the industry is heading, what skills are in demand, and if I don’t know something, I find a way to learn it — through online courses, YouTube, whatever it takes. That hunger to improve, to stay relevant, to be irreplaceable — that’s my edge.
To any international student reading this, feeling lost or stuck — I want you to know that it’s okay. We’ve all been there. The doubts, the fear, the silence after hitting “Submit Application” for the hundredth time — I know how heavy it feels. But keep going. Keep showing up. Keep learning. Don’t underestimate the power of small, consistent steps.
Eventually, things click into place. Not all at once. But they do.