From Armenia

"You can't travel alone to Italy," my mom replied angrily to my pleading. "Yes, you're 22 and you've graduated from university. I know you're smart, but you're a GIRL! Your sister is 30, and she's never even asked about doing this kind of thing. What's appropriate for boys is not appropriate for girls!" she continued, adding on her so-called "reasons."

If you've never grown up in a traditional Armenian family, you might not understand it. I was born into one, raised with love and protection - overprotection, I would say. I don't know why, but I'm certain that if I'd had the chance to take that trip, my life would have been completely different. That's why I dream that my daughter will have the chance to travel abroad and become more independent.

I first heard about the Future Leaders Exchange (FLEX) program when my daughter was just six years old and in first grade. FLEX was created from the belief of former Senator Bill Bradley that the best way to ensure lasting peace and mutual understanding between the U.S. and the countries of Eurasia is to enable young people to learn about the U.S. and Americans firsthand while teaching Americans about their own countries.

FLEX is a highly competitive, merit-based scholarship program funded by the U.S. Department of State. It operates in countries like Armenia, Moldova, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Georgia, and many others. Each year, over 35,000 students compete in multiple rounds of rigorous testing for the opportunity to spend an academic year in the United States. Winners of this prestigious scholarship live with volunteer host families, attend U.S. high schools, and develop leadership skills while learning about American society and values. At the same time, they share their own cultures with Americans, building mutual understanding.

As a "good" mother who wanted her daughter to grow up "strong and independent", I set ambitious goals for her. One of them was for her to win the FLEX competition. The other was for her to gain admission to the most prestigious university in Armenia, the American University of Armenia. However, there was a small catch: students could only participate in FLEX during the last two years of high school.

In 11th grade, my daughter took her first shot at the FLEX competition. She didn't make it past the first round. I was furious. To me, it felt like the end of the world. But there was still one more chance - the following year. The only problem was that next year she would also have to prepare for university entrance exams.

Finally, the day of the first round came again. This time, she passed with ease. It was September, and the results were published on the same day. The second round followed just two days later. We had to wait nearly three months for the results of that round. I vividly remember when they called to tell me she had passed. They even asked if I wanted to share the good news myself or if they should inform her directly. I chose the second option, wanting her to hear it from them.

But the real challenge lay ahead: the third and final round. This was the most difficult part of the competition. It wasn't just a test; it was a simulation where participants had to act out different scenarios. The jury would evaluate their personalities, adaptability, and potential to thrive with a host family. Only a very small fraction - less than 10% of those who made it past the second round - could succeed here. It felt so unfair for the kids. Why couldn't they weed out more participants in the earlier rounds so that the final competition wouldn't be so intense? I thought. It was the middle of December, and the results were expected in mid-April. Can you imagine all the emotions they go through during that wait? There's an expression: "Waiting for death is worse than death itself!" Of course, I'm exaggerating, but it felt a little bit like that.

The funny part of this was that in April, we were also waiting for university admission results. My daughter passed her TOEFL with a good score in the summer and passed her math test in December with an "A" grade. We had completed all the application forms by the end of December, and then came another waiting period before April.

April 2015 turned out to be a decisive month for us. Even though her university results were very strong, there was no guarantee she would be selected. The university didn't share the criteria they used for admissions, which added to our uncertainty. Deep down, I believed she would get in, but with the FLEX program, there was no certainty at all, especially knowing that they often preferred students from the regions over those from the capital.

Those four long months… During that time, I called both the university and the American consulate in Armenia, which managed the FLEX program. Both places told me the same thing: "We don't have information yet. You need to wait." Easy to say, but so hard to do. In my frustration, I started researching the program and stumbled upon a forum on a Russian social media platform, "Vkontakte," where kids were discussing the results and sharing names of FLEX finalists. Somehow, they had managed to access pages from U.S. host organizations containing finalist information. It was the end of March. To ask questions on that forum, I had to create a profile, but the platform was more for the younger generation. So, I made a fake account under the name "Mane." I asked one of the boys, who was also a participant from Kazakhstan but hadn't been selected, about the results. Pretending to be a participant, I asked him about me. To my surprise, he said, "Mane is a finalist." That was a fake name! I then "revealed" that my real name was Monika, pretending to be my daughter. He confirmed again: "You're a finalist." At that point, I thought he might be teasing me. So, I challenged him to share personal information about me if I truly was a finalist. To my shock, he knew all her details!

Oh my God, such a relief! We'd won! It was April 2nd. I printed out our entire conversation and hid it at home. Of course, I didn't share the news with my daughter. I wanted her to experience the joy of hearing it directly from the consulate.

On April 5th, we received another letter: "Congratulations! You're in!" It was from the university. My daughter was thrilled, but I could see she was still waiting for the FLEX program results. I tried to play it cool, suggesting, "Maybe it's not so important to win that program. Maybe it's better to focus on your university degree." But she was unshakable. "Please, Mom, don't say that! You know how much I want to win!" she replied.

April 15th. I was in a meeting with my boss when my phone started ringing. It was my daughter. I turned off the call. She called again, and I turned it off a second time. When she called a third time, I started to worry - she never did that before. Apologizing to my boss, I answered the phone. I can't even describe her happy screaming in the phone: "MOM, I'M A FINALIST!"

Tears filled my eyes. There's no greater feeling than witnessing your child's happiness. When I got home, I hugged her tightly and told her to look in the desk drawer. She found the printed chat and couldn't believe I'd kept the news from her. But she agreed it was the right decision because she would never have experienced that emotion when they called her. She told me she'd been crossing the road when the call came. Seeing the unknown number, her hands were shaking as she answered. FLEX had a policy of calling all participants, regardless of whether they were selected or not. As soon as she heard the results, she screamed so loudly that everyone on the street turned to look at her.

That April was the best April of my life!

At my daughter's school graduation party, I was so proud of her. She was the only one who already had her university admission results. Others still had exams to take. But if you ask me whether I feel I did my job as a mother well, my answer would definitely be no. Maybe I didn't overprotect my daughter the way my mom did, but I failed in my own way. Looking back, I see that my love for her sometimes got in the way of her finding her own path.

As parents, we want the best for our children, but the best thing we can do is trust them to make their own choices and learn from their own experiences. Does this mean that if I could go back, I would give my daughter complete independence and put my parenting on autopilot? Of course not! But it's incredibly challenging not to cross the line between coordinating and leading. In our situation, I led too much, unintentionally suppressing her leadership abilities - skills that are vital for her future. At the same time, despite my endless love for my daughter, I now realize the importance of separating my own life from her. And by separating my life from hers, I'm allowing both of us the space to grow and thrive on our own journeys.