The story below was written by Class of 2029 student Caleb Leonard, who reflects on his journey from Arizona to DKU.
Leaving home
Coming to DKU is the greatest achievement I have made in my life; it took a lot more bravery and dedication than people would ever know. I officially committed to DKU on May 1st after a lot of deliberation with my family and more so myself. When I made the announcement, it was big news for everybody: I would be traveling over 11,000 kilometers across the ocean to a place where I knew nobody and nobody knew me. But the reality of it hadn’t hit yet; that took time.
I spent my summer working as a lifeguard in my hometown. Whenever I wasn’t working, I was re-exploring my hometown and doing the things that I loved in it. I cliff jumped near the border of Mexico, wandered the vast deserts on late night walks, and went on countless adventures with my closest friends. It was the most fun I have had in my entire life, but something was constantly bothering me; it sat in the back of my mind, it was DKU.
Every day I carried the thought that soon I would be so very far from my friends and family, people that I see every day, and I would not be able to do the same things, eat the same foods, and talk to the same people for extremely long amounts of time. I would be leaving it all behind.
Time passed, and the day I was to leave the United States was ever approaching. The reality was finally setting in, for me and everybody around me, and every day began to feel like a fight over who gets to see me and whom I can make time to see. I spent as much time as I could with my friends and family and enjoyed the place I had called my home for 19 years, but the day finally came.
I remember the last night I was there, the sun painted the canvas of the desert sky as beautifully as it always does in Tucson, and I remember getting in my car and driving to each of my friends’ houses to see them one last time. I cried on the drive to every single one of their houses. I remember every goodbye.
We would try to avoid the ultimate reason I was going to see them. We talked as if we always did, as if this wasn’t the last time we would see each other in the same circumstances ever again. When it inevitably came time to hug each other goodbye as we walked out to my car, we would look each other in the eye and realize what we were actually doing.
I remember crying with them in their arms, hugging so tightly it was as if I could attach them to myself and take them with me, but one of us had to let go eventually. I was never the first to.
I remember driving home after. I rolled all my windows down and took one more long look at the places I was so familiar with that were passing me by: my high school, the parking lot where I learned to drive, the roads that I would drive on every day. Every little thing seemed so much more significant; it felt as if I had taken it all for granted my entire life.
Once I had gotten home, I ate dinner and went to bed. Despite everything I had just gone through, I slept just fine — I still don’t know why.
The morning I was leaving was the hardest. We woke up at 5:00 AM. It was a dark morning, my bags were packed, and the house was quiet. I had to say goodbye to my two cats and the house that I grew up in; taking my last looks at it didn’t feel real.
When we made it to the airport, it was time to say goodbye to my family. It took more strength than anything I had ever done to walk away from them. Once they were gone, it was just me, alone, standing in the airport. And at that moment, I never regretted my decision to come to DKU more.
Still, I fought every natural urge and instinct I had, and I got on the plane taking me to not just a place, but my unknown future.
I would love to tell you where this story goes, but first we have to go back.
Caleb competing in the Arizona state championship race during high school.
The path that led me to China
My parents enrolled me in Chinese in the Catalina Foothills School District as the pioneering class of students for its new Chinese program when I was just five years old. They saw it as an investment: China was a quickly developing country, and before many others, they observed the bright future that China would have among the major countries of the world.
This ended up being one of their greatest investments, both for me and them. I have them to thank fully for where I am now. As I grew, I understood their vision and decided to continue in the program throughout middle school and then high school until I became the first non-native Chinese speaker in the city of Tucson to receive the Gold Seal of biliteracy in Mandarin Chinese.
Having learned Chinese for so long, once I had arrived in China, it felt like everything I had ever done in my life involving Chinese had led to this moment; but I don’t think I truly realized I was actually in China until I first traveled to Shanghai.
I remember it fondly: I was sitting in the car, becoming more and more excited by the minute as we inched towards the Bund in the thick Shanghai traffic. I remember stepping out of my DiDi and gazing out on the Shanghai skyline for my very first time. It was everything I had imagined and one hundred times more.
I still find myself falling in love with the city every time I visit — its diverse mix of cultures, its endless bright skyline, and its friendly locals. If somebody were to ask me where in China I lived, the truth would be Kunshan, but I would tell them Shanghai, because that’s where my heart belongs.
Caleb in Nanjing with his family during their first visit to China.
When my family finally understood
When I first told my family I was thinking about studying in China, the reactions were mixed. For some of them, including the people closest to me, it was a scary thought — the kind of idea that sounds unreal until you watch it slowly turn into someone’s actual life.
But even in that uncertainty, my immediate family trusted that I wasn’t just chasing something random; they knew I was choosing the future I wanted, even if it meant going farther than anyone expected.
Still, doubts lingered.
It wasn’t until my mom and I flew to China in April of the previous school year to tour the DKU campus that everything truly changed. I remember walking side by side with her through the academic buildings, watching her quietly take in every detail.
In those moments, we both saw what DKU actually was — something extraordinary, something rare, something that felt like it was meant for me no matter how far away it stood from Arizona. That trip turned fear into confidence, and confidence into certainty.
But not everyone shared that feeling. Some of my more distant relatives disapproved then, and still disapprove now — not because of anything real, but because of stereotypes, misconceptions, and the kind of political divisions that close people’s minds before they open their eyes.
Their opinions used to bother me, but over time I realized that their fear had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with what they didn’t understand.
My mom and I understood, though. After that visit, we both knew DKU wasn’t just a good choice — it was the right one.
After my mom and I visited, we relayed everything we had observed and experienced in China in great detail to the rest of my family. And my brother took a particular interest, so much so that about a month ago he came with the rest of my family to tour DKU’s campus with the possibility of one day attending alongside me.
Even if he doesn’t end up attending, I’m proud that I got such a unique opportunity to expose him to a place as extraordinary as DKU and show him all that is truly possible in the world. I hope that I inspired him to take risks, make crazy decisions, and be brave.
Finding a new rhythm in Kunshan
When I compare where I am now and where I first called home, Arizona will always be the place where everything felt familiar. It was the slower rhythm of life, the dry warmth, and the same streets and sunsets I had grown up with. It was the comfort of being surrounded by people who had known me for years. It was steady, predictable, and safe in a way that I didn’t fully appreciate until I was preparing to leave it behind.
But Kunshan, and the Suzhou/Shanghai area as a whole, moves to a completely different beat. Life here is faster, brighter, more alive, and sometimes overwhelming in the best possible way. Instead of comfort, it gives me excitement; instead of familiarity, it gives me possibility.
Walking through Kunshan’s calm but modern streets, or stepping into Shanghai’s electric, nonstop energy, I feel something I never felt in Arizona: the sense that I’m stepping into a future that’s bigger than anything I’ve ever known.
I didn’t realize it until I got here, but after years of being surrounded by what I knew, what I really needed was a place that challenged me — one that pushed me forward instead of keeping me comfortable.
Although my first home and my new home in Kunshan are very different, I find that I can make them feel more similar by continuing to pursue some of my passions from Arizona here. I am the most active runner on the DKU running team as a varsity member and I am currently training for a marathon that I will be racing in once I return home.
Training in this way allows me to explore the greater Kunshan area on foot and feel more at home as I become more familiar with Kunshan.
Recently, I have also decided to begin learning how to DJ, something that I pursued back home, but in a different way. In Arizona, I was the synthesizer and sound tech in my school’s marching band: the largest high school marching band in the state of Arizona. Being a part of the band in that role, I learned a lot of skills related to DJing, and now I’ve decided to transfer those skills to something new that I have wanted to learn for a long time.
I think coming to a new place like Kunshan has inspired me to try new things like this.
Caleb representing DKU in a meet against UNNC, where DKU won and he finished first.
Unexpected moments, new connections
Some of my favorite experiences at DKU so far have come from moments I never expected.
I’ll never forget how my four friends and I ended up registering for our first classes together in an actual trash room — all four of us squeezed between recycling bins with our laptops, trying to click “register” exactly at 8:00 PM like our lives depended on it. It was chaotic, ridiculous, and one of the first times I realized how quickly DKU was giving me a new kind of community.
I also remember the night I hosted the DKU talent show, standing under the stage lights in front of a room full of students from all over the world. It felt unreal to suddenly be part of something so global and so full of energy.
Caleb at the DKU talent show
And just recently, we had a Friendsgiving (basically a Thanksgiving celebrated with friends instead of family) with a huge group of people. When we went around the table sharing what we were grateful for, it meant a lot to hear my friends who weren’t from the United States say how thankful they were to experience a piece of American culture. In that moment, surrounded by people from different countries and backgrounds, I understood just how special it is to build a life in a place where everyone is learning from each other.
As I continue to make memories here, I hope to contribute as much as I can to this campus and community. As an athlete and an artist, I hope to encourage people to not only pursue a similar path that I am pursuing, but also find their own path full of things that fulfill them and those around them.
DKU helps give me the unique opportunity to share my ideas and experiences on a more global level than ever before, and I hope to use that to not only change the community that we live in, but someday the world, one person at a time.
Why I reached out to 400 classmates
Wanting to contribute to this community is also what led me to do something a little unusual: I reached out to more than 400 of my classmates to prepare to be the speaking representative of the class of 2029 at the DKU Convocation Ceremony this year.
I wanted to combine the most compelling stories from people all over the world and show how each person’s journey to DKU is both incredibly unique yet remarkably the same in that our stories had all led us to be where we are right now.
Reading each and every one of their stories was one of the biggest learning experiences for me, because through them, I began to understand the true meaning of what it is to be part of a global community. I didn’t just read about students leaving behind hometowns, families, and comfort — I learned about courage, sacrifice, and hope on a level I had never experienced before.
Their stories reminded me that every person sitting beside me in class carries a history as deep and complex as my own, and that behind each face is a lifetime of moments, challenges, and dreams that brought them here.
Hearing these stories didn’t just help me write a speech; it changed the way I see every person I meet at DKU. It taught me that every conversation is a doorway into another world, and that we truly are, as I said in my speech, each other’s teachers.
The moment on stage
Caleb delivering the Class of 2029 convocation speech at DKU.
The moment I delivered the speech was one of the single most important moments I’ve had at DKU.
I remember one hour before, pacing around my room, reciting my speech from memory over and over and over again. If somebody had listened through my door, they surely would have thought I was crazy.
I remember when the time finally came and my name was called to speak, my hands were trembling as I walked onto the stage, placed my speech down on the podium, and looked into the crowd of over seven hundred people. But as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, my nerves went away. I said the words that I knew, the words that I had practiced for two months, and I spoke from my heart.
Once I had finished, the crowd erupted into applause, and in that moment, all the countless hours of reaching out, writing, and practicing became worth it.
I remember that night receiving so many messages from people at DKU congratulating me and telling me how much the speech meant to them; it especially meant something to hear from those whose stories I included.
The messages didn’t just come from DKU students, but from my family and friends back home. Nearly everybody I knew stayed up far into the night to listen to my speech virtually, and it made me realize how grateful I am for the people around me.
And as proud as I was to be the one delivering it, I’ve always felt that the speech wasn’t really mine at all; it belonged to everyone who trusted me with their story, and to everyone back home who pushed me to come to DKU in the first place. I owe it all to them.
To anyone standing at a crossroads
Looking back on all of this — the fear, the goodbyes, the growth — I realized there’s something important I want to say to anyone facing the same choice I once did.
Whether it be somebody applying to DKU, somebody that’s about to go off to college anywhere in the world, or anybody making any important decision and feeling scared, lost, or confused, I want you to remember that your new life will come at the cost of everything you once knew.
Both before I came to DKU and in the past four months I have spent here, my life has changed completely: my hobbies, relationships with my friends, and worldviews have all been dramatically altered, and it has been hard.
I have lost friends, made new ones, laughed, cried, thought about transferring, and more. I have learned that many of my friends back home still hold something against me for making my decision to leave, but it has all been worth it because the new life I live here — one that has made me into an ultimately better person — has cost me every part of my old life.
It will be hard, but you must remember that only you can decide which life is worth losing and which life is worth becoming. And like I said in my speech:
“As the hand of history rests on your shoulder and the weight of the future grows heavier, embrace the differences that unite us, the stories that define us, and the hope that drives us forward, because, after all, you are the author of your own story, and that’s what makes us truly extraordinary.”
