Balancing Veteran Life and CS Academics: My Semester in Review

Another semester down, countless more lines of code debugged, and somehow we’re all still standing. As I sit here at my kitchen table—the same one where I’ve eaten countless 2 AM bowls of cereal while wrestling with recursion problems—I’m reflecting on what just might have been the most challenging four months of my post-military life.

I’m Cam Adkins, Navy veteran, father of two young kids, and a junior Computer Science major at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln by credit load thanks to an accelerated schedule. This spring was the semester that nearly broke me. It was also the one where everything finally started clicking—not the code (that’s still a daily battle), but the systems and strategies that make this whole juggling act possible.

If you’re a veteran thinking about diving into tech, a parent wondering if you can handle CS coursework with kids, or just another non-traditional student trying to figure out how the hell to make this work, this one’s for you. No sugar-coating, no “you got this” platitudes—just the real deal about what worked, what crashed and burned, and what I’m changing moving forward.

The Real Challenges: When Military Meets Academia

Let me paint you a picture of my typical Tuesday this semester: 0630 wake-up (trying to let go of those 0500 habits), wrangle two tiny humans through breakfast and getting dressed, drop them off at daycare by 0745, sprint to campus for my 0830 Data Structures class, sit through three hours of lectures feeling like the old guy in the room, pick up the kids by 1600, snack time, dinner prep while preventing my youngest from destroying the living room, bedtime routines that take forever, and then—finally—crack open my laptop at 2030 to start my own homework. Rinse and repeat, five days a week.

The academic transition hit differently this semester. After years in the Navy where every task had clear SOPs and defined endpoints, I found myself drowning in the ambiguity of computer science. When my professor said “implement this however you think is best,” my brain short-circuited. In the military, there was always a right way—usually documented in a manual somewhere. In CS? There are seventeen different ways to solve the same problem, and somehow they’re all simultaneously right and wrong.

The imposter syndrome was real and relentless. Here I was, someone who managed complex network systems on a destroyer, feeling completely lost in a classroom discussion about Big O notation. Turns out, research shows 61% of STEM students experience imposter syndrome, but knowing that didn’t make it easier when I was the only one in my study group who needed three explanations of polymorphism.

Then there’s the age gap. As a non-traditional student, I might as well be a fossil compared to my classmates. They’re worried about spring break plans; I’m worried about finding a babysitter for my algorithms midterm. They pull all-nighters fueled by energy drinks; I’m running on black coffee and pure determination because I have to be functional enough to handle a toddler’s meltdown at 0600.

The mental load of parenting while studying CS is something I vastly underestimated. It’s not just the time management—it’s the constant context switching. One minute I’m debugging a segmentation fault, the next I’m negotiating with my daughter about why we can’t have ice cream for dinner. My brain never fully focuses on one thing because there’s always another obligation lurking in the background. Try concentrating on recursive algorithms when your youngest is in the “why?” phase and asks approximately 47 questions per hour.

And let’s talk about the warrior-to-student identity crisis. Studies on veteran students show that transitioning from military culture to academic culture is one of the biggest challenges we face, and man, did I feel it this semester. In the Navy, mission accomplishment was everything. Failure wasn’t an option. In CS? Failure is literally part of the learning process. You’re supposed to break things, experiment, and iterate. My military brain struggled hard with submitting “imperfect” code, even when that was exactly what rough drafts were for.

Tools That Actually Helped

After nearly burning out midway through the semester, I had to get serious about systems. Here’s what actually moved the needle:

The Battle Rhythm Calendar System I started treating my schedule like a military watch rotation. Every Sunday, I’d sit down with my physical planner (yes, paper—fight me) and map out the entire week in 30-minute blocks. Kid activities in blue, classes in black, study time in red, and—crucially—buffer time in green. That buffer time saved my sanity more times than I can count.

The key was being realistic about time estimates. In the military, we had a saying: “Take your time hack and double it.” Same applies to CS assignments. That “simple” linked list implementation? Three hours minimum. The debugging session? Add another two.

Mission Planning for Programming Projects I adapted the military’s backwards planning process for every major assignment. Start with the due date, work backwards to create checkpoints, and build in contingency time. For my final project—a full-stack web application—I created what was essentially an OPORD (operations order) with:

• Mission objective (project requirements)
• Timeline with phase lines (milestone dates)
• Resources required (which libraries, frameworks, etc.)
• Contingency plans (what if X breaks?)

This might seem like overkill, but it kept me from the panic-driven coding sessions that plagued my first two semesters.

The Nuclear Family Communication Protocol With my wife managing the household and our two young kids full-time, we had to get surgical about communication and scheduling. We implemented a shared digital calendar (Cozi, if you’re curious) where everything lived—from daycare pickups to my exam dates. Sunday night family meetings became our weekly sync, where we’d review the upcoming week and identify potential conflicts. She needed to know when I had major deadlines so she could handle bedtime solo, and I needed to know when she had appointments so I could adjust my study schedule.

The game-changer was color-coding by priority. Red meant “non-negotiable” (exams, kid doctor appointments), yellow meant “important but flexible” (study groups, grocery runs), and green meant “nice to have” (that workout I kept promising myself I’d do).

Cognitive Load Management This semester, I finally accepted that my brain has limits. Research on cognitive load shows that we can only process so much information at once, and parent-student-veterans are constantly maxing out that capacity. I started:

• Studying in 45-minute sprints using a modified Pomodoro technique
• Scheduling my hardest subjects for morning sessions when the kids were at school
• Using the Eisenhower Matrix (important/urgent quadrants) for daily task prioritization
• Recording lectures so I could review them during my commute

The Eisenhower Matrix especially resonated with my military background—it’s basically tactical decision-making applied to homework and household tasks.

The Veteran Success Center Lifeline I swallowed my pride and started using UNL’s Military & Veteran Success Center resources. Free tutoring for STEM courses? Game-changer. A quiet place to study between classes? Essential. Being around other veterans who get it? Priceless.

The peer mentoring program connected me with another veteran CS major who graduated last year. Having someone who’d walked this exact path made everything feel more achievable. He helped me understand that being a junior by credits but only in my second semester meant I was taking on upper-level courses without the gradual buildup most students get. He introduced me to the concept of “good enough” coding for coursework—perfection is the enemy of done when you have toddlers waiting at daycare pickup.

What Spectacularly Failed

Let’s talk about the experiments that crashed harder than my first attempt at implementing a binary search tree.

The “I Don’t Need Help” Mentality Military culture teaches self-reliance, and I carried that toxic trait straight into my CS program. First half of the semester, I refused to attend office hours, join study groups, or ask for extensions. I was drowning in silence, convinced that asking for help was admitting weakness.

Reality check: Veterans are 2.64 times more likely to succeed in cybersecurity roles, but only if we make it through the degree program. After bombing my midterm, I finally started showing up to office hours. Surprise—professors actually want to help, and my classmates weren’t judging me for not getting concepts immediately.

The Superhuman Schedule I tried to maintain my military operational tempo in civilian life. Full course load, part-time job, volunteer work with a veteran nonprofit, kids’ activities, attempt at a social life—something had to give. That something was my mental health.

By week 10, I was running on fumes. The irritability was affecting my family, my code quality was garbage, and I was one segfault away from throwing my laptop out the window. I had to drop the volunteer work and cut my work hours. Financial hit? Yes. Necessary for survival? Absolutely.

Neglecting Physical Health In the Navy, PT was mandatory. As a student, the only thing mandatory was sitting in front of a screen for hours. I kept telling myself I’d hit the gym “after this assignment” or “once the kids are in bed.” Never happened. The lack of exercise affected everything—energy levels, focus, mood, sleep quality.

I also discovered that the “college diet” hits different in your 30s. Living on energy drinks and vending machine food made me feel like garbage, but meal prep seemed impossible with everything else on my plate.

Backed by Research (Or: I’m Not Crazy, This Is Actually Hard)

One of the most validating parts of this semester was discovering that research backs up everything I was experiencing. Let’s talk data for a minute.

According to recent studies, 72% of student veterans complete their degrees, which sounds great until you realize that means over a quarter of us don’t make it. The reasons? Everything I’ve been living: difficulty transitioning from military to academic culture, financial pressures, family obligations, and mental health challenges.

The parenting piece adds another layer. Research shows that 18% of all undergraduates are raising kids, and we maintain comparable GPAs despite the added chaos. That stat kept me going on the nights when I questioned whether I was shortchanging my kids by pursuing this degree.

What really hit home was learning about “transition stress”—it’s not PTSD for most of us, but rather the challenge of adapting from military to civilian life. Military identity is so deeply ingrained that shifting to student mode creates genuine psychological friction. That explained why I kept treating assignments like military operations and why collaborative coding felt so foreign after years of clearly defined hierarchies.

The research on time management in STEM programs validated my systems approach. Studies show that structured time management directly correlates with academic success, especially for non-traditional students juggling multiple responsibilities. The military gave me the discipline; I just had to adapt it to academic life.

One surprising finding: Veterans actually have higher GPAs than traditional students—by an average of 0.40 points. Knowing this helped combat the imposter syndrome. We’re not struggling because we’re less capable; we’re struggling because we’re juggling more balls while transitioning between two completely different worlds.

Lessons Learned and the Path Forward

So here’s where I’ve landed after this semester’s trial by fire:

Embrace the Suck, But Strategically Military folks know “the suck”—those moments that test everything you’ve got. CS coursework has its own version. The difference is that in civilian life, you get to choose which battles to fight. Next semester, I’m taking one less course. Better to excel in four classes than barely survive five.

Build Your Firebase In combat, a firebase provides support for forward operations. In college, your firebase is your support network. I’m doubling down on study groups, keeping those office hour appointments, and staying connected with the Veteran Success Center. Pride is a luxury I can’t afford.

Mission First, But Define the Mission My mission isn’t to be the perfect student or the perfect parent—it’s to progress steadily toward my degree while keeping my family stable and healthy. That means some assignments will be “good enough,” some dinners will be mac and cheese (again), and some days I’ll choose building block towers with my kids over an extra hour of coding practice.

Time is a Resource, Not an Enemy I’m implementing stricter boundaries next semester. Study time is sacred, but so is family time. When I’m with my kids, the laptop stays closed. When I’m studying, the phone goes in another room. Multitasking is a myth, especially when your tasks involve both recursive algorithms and second-grade reading comprehension.

Physical Health is Mission Essential Next semester includes scheduled PT—non-negotiable gym time three days a week. I’m also meal prepping on Sundays, even if it’s just basic proteins and vegetables. Can’t debug code effectively when your body is running on garbage fuel.

A Note to My Fellow Veterans (and Other Non-Trads)

If you’re reading this and thinking about making the leap into CS—or if you’re in the thick of it right now—here’s what I want you to know:

This is hard. Harder than most people realize. You’re not just learning to code; you’re rewiring years of military conditioning while managing adult responsibilities that your 19-year-old classmates can’t fathom. Some days you’ll feel like you’re failing at everything. You’re not.

The data shows we can do this. Veterans succeed in STEM at high rates when we get the right support. Find your tribe, whether it’s other student-veterans, parent-students, or just people who get that your path looks different. Use every resource available—that’s not weakness, it’s tactical intelligence.

Your military experience is an asset, even when it doesn’t feel like it. That attention to detail that makes you triple-check your code? That’s quality assurance. The ability to function under pressure? Wait until final project week—you’ll be grateful for that training. The mission-first mentality? Channel it into your degree objectives.

Most importantly, remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Some semesters you’ll crusade through coursework. Others, like this one for me, you’ll barely crawl across the finish line. Both count as forward progress.

Next semester starts in ten weeks. I’ll be back at it—a little wiser, a lot more realistic about my limits, and still determined to crack this code (pun absolutely intended). To my fellow veterans navigating this journey: stay frosty, trust the process, and remember—we’ve survived worse. We can survive discrete mathematics.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my kids and a living room fort that needs building. The code can wait until after bedtime.

Semper Fidelis, Cam

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