From Arabic Language Analyst to Aspiring Nurse
A Journey of Growth and Transition
I joined the military at 18 to become a Cryptologic Language Analyst. It wasn’t my first choice—I initially wanted a medical job. However, after a few months in the delayed entry program, my recruiter convinced me to try being a "translator" (LOL). Looking back, I realize how little I knew about the journey I was about to embark on, and I’d like to share that story.
When I was at Basic Training, we were asked to rank our preferred languages. Like almost everyone else, I confidently listed Russian as my top choice. Surprisingly, the Air Force assigned me to learn Levantine, my sixth choice. Coming from a town of 832 people in upstate New York, I had no idea where Levantine was even spoken. When I asked a sergeant where it was used, he replied, "Syria." I then asked, "Great, and where is Syria?" That exchange perfectly captured how little I knew about the world then. (Try not to judge me too much for that.)
After graduating from Basic Training, I moved to the Defense Language Institute (DLI), where I dove headfirst into learning Levantine. To my surprise, it was a dialect of Arabic. DLI wasn’t just about memorizing vocabulary and grammar. Every day, we worked with native speakers who taught us about the culture, accent, mannerisms, and—best of all—the food. We spent countless hours discussing historic world events, current news, politics, religion, and other critical topics to gain a deeper understanding of not just a language but also the people and countries where it’s spoken. Levantine Arabic is spoken in Jordan, Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria, so my studies extended well beyond just one country.
By the time I graduated, I had gone from not knowing where Syria was on a map to being able to discuss its current events and politics in Levantine Arabic with relative fluency. I also learned Modern Standard Arabic (MSA) well enough to pass that test upon graduation. Looking back, not getting Russian was the best thing that ever happened to me.
In my "big girl" Air Force job, I became even more immersed in the Middle East. I loved learning about everything I could and eventually became proficient by Air Force standards in five Arabic dialects in addition to Levantine and MSA. When something happened in the region, it consumed my newsfeed—both at work and in my personal time. I stayed updated through native-language news channels, social media, and discussions on YouTube. My career was more than just a job.
So why am I sharing all of this? Because I told you at the very beginning of this article that when I joined the Air Force, I was trying to get into a medical job. Over a decade later, I’ve been accepted into a medical commissioning program and have stepped away from the intelligence community and my role as an Arabic Language Analyst. Since starting full-time at school this past August, I’ve been focusing on my new journey, but it feels like my old life is slipping further and further away from me.
There was a time when I knew every current event about Syria as soon as it happened. Now, it took me several days to read an article about Bashar al-Assad being ousted from power. Seeing how quickly I’ve distanced myself from a role that defined me for 11 years is jarring. At times, it feels like I’m losing a part of myself, even though this medical opportunity is everything I’ve ever wanted.
I know I could still read the news and stay more aware of what’s happening in the Middle East, but it’s not the same, and truthfully, I don’t have the time. My focus has shifted to prioritizing my education and preparing for my future in healthcare. Still, there’s a lingering sadness, almost a sense of regret—that I didn’t expect. It’s given me a newfound appreciation for those who transition out of the military entirely, leaving behind not just a career but a community and a sense of purpose, “the mission,” if you will.
This change has also taught me the importance of staying connected with others who are navigating similar transitions. I now know how vital it is to support people moving from one phase of life to another. So, I challenge myself—and everyone reading this—to do better in reaching out and staying connected with those who are starting over. Whether it’s a friend retiring from the military, a colleague transitioning into civilian life, or someone shifting career paths, our understanding and support can make a world of difference.
For me, this new chapter as an aspiring nurse represents a new mission. While I’m no longer working in intelligence, I’m still serving. And I’m learning that the lessons from my past—resilience, adaptability, cultural awareness—are shaping the person and the professional I’m becoming. Though it’s hard to say goodbye to the role that defined me for so long, I’m excited to see where this new journey takes me.
TSgt Emalee Mahr has supported thousands of some of the most sensitive military operations across the globe.