Every Thursday at 6:00 a.m., while most of campus is still asleep, I’m at Payne Whitney for physical training, known as PT. By 9:10, I’ve logged an hour-long workout and another 100 minutes of military training. Afterward, I stay in uniform all day — class to class, meeting to meeting. No skateboard. No jaywalking. No earbuds in. Most days, I’m just like any other student. But the moment the uniform goes on, I’m reminded — and so is everyone else — that I’m slightly different.

This is the double identity ROTC cadets at Yale carry. On one hand, I’m a normal undergrad. But I’m also contracted to become a military officer. Yale celebrates academic freedom and encourages exploration; military training demands discipline and adherence to standards. We rarely talk about this tension explicitly. Only once a semester, we briefly review guidelines about balancing academic freedom with the responsibilities of wearing the uniform. Navigating these two worlds can be complicated, but it’s precisely this tension — this constant negotiation — that makes my time at Yale uniquely valuable.

Unlike my classmates, I already know my employer after graduation. I don’t scramble for internships or chase job offers. I won’t choose my first city. Oddly, it feels liberating. I can spend my summers on work that genuinely interests me rather than padding my résumé. I can take risks others won’t. My career path is set in one sense, yet out of my control and uncertain in another.

Wearing the uniform also makes me a de facto ambassador. I’m not here to recruit. I don’t want to be a walking press release. But every comment I make — in class, online, or passing through Cross Campus — reflects on the Air Force, fairly or not. I have academic freedom, but I also have a commission-in-waiting. The “views are my own” disclaimer only goes so far.

You can see Yale’s military heritage just by walking around campus. On Old Campus, Nathan Hale, a member of the class of 1773 and arguably America’s first spy, stands immortalized above his famous words: “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.” Nearly 19,000 Yalies served in World War II, including President George H. W. Bush ’48. That legacy is a big part of why I applied: Yale is a place where service matters, where I can train as a cadet without living inside a service-academy bubble.

But Yale’s relationship with the military hasn’t always been easy. In 1969, amid protests during the Vietnam War, the faculty voted to strip ROTC courses of academic credit. By 1972, all ROTC programs were gone. It took four decades before ROTC returned in 2012, after “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was repealed. Yale is now one of the few places where you can get a top-tier liberal arts education and train on campus to become an officer.

Tensions still exist today. Last spring, during protests over the Gaza war on Beinecke Plaza, someone tore down the American flag while others in the crowd cheered. Out of caution, our cadre told us to switch into civilian clothes after our military training sessions for a few weeks. That felt like a low point, although some faculty who’ve been at Yale for decades reminded me that Yale’s relationship with the military has seen many ups and downs — and it was once much worse. In the early 1970s, cadets had to commission in private, and enlisted staff were sometimes spat on while walking around campus. We’re nowhere near that now.

Today’s reality is surprisingly mundane. Most students are either supportive, indifferent, or just curious about my military path. “Why did you join the Air Force?” has become the default conversation starter — not asked in judgment but as a simple icebreaker. 

Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, I’ve noticed a rise in student interest around national security and defense. Perhaps it’s selection bias in my friend group, but the shift feels real. More students approach me with questions, and several of my non-ROTC friends have pivoted their careers towards defense tech or policy. I’m not naïve — for every student who wants to “support the mission,” there’s someone with a “Books Not Bombs” pin or someone who silently disapproves of ROTC’s presence at Yale. But that’s not just fine — it’s necessary. Studying alongside people who question the military’s purpose makes us better cadets and better humans.

Yale’s administration has been unambiguously supportive. When President McInnis took office, we continued our annual President’s Review tradition, marching for her just as we did for President Salovey. Last fall, the newly created Office of Veteran and Military Affairs hosted Yale’s first-ever Veterans Day reception, where they handed out Yale sweatshirts with the American flag, now regularly spotted around campus. They organize barbecues connecting ROTC cadets with veterans, art gallery tours, study breaks, mentorship chats and more. Sometimes the attention feels uncomfortable, like unearned recognition for service we haven’t yet provided. But the message is clear: we belong here.

I’m biased, but I believe Yale is the best place in America to earn a commission. The dual identity — immersed fully in Yale’s liberal arts environment and the structured world of military training — creates an experience impossible to replicate elsewhere. We cadets bring a fresh military perspective to campus, reminding fellow students that service members are just regular people pursuing a particular career path.  And we, in turn, benefit enormously from studying alongside students from around the globe, including those who don’t understand or even disagree with our career choices. It’s in these exchanges that real growth happens. Whether you’re left or right, military-family or first-generation service, Yale will challenge you — and you’ll graduate with both a diploma and a gold bar. You’ll thank me later.

ASHER ELLIS is a senior in Ezra Stiles College studying Applied Mathematics. After Yale, Asher will be attending graduate school and serving as an Air Force officer. He can be reached at asher.ellis@aya.yale.edu.