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The U.S. Navy is where I got my cultural education. I call those four years my bachelor’s in life because that’s exactly what it was. I learned who I was, what I was made of, and how big – and small – the world can feel at the same time. By the time I finished my service, I saw life through a completely different lens.

The Navy didn’t just shape my career – it shaped my character. It changed how I think, how I lead, and how I see people. I served under some incredible leaders who taught me what courage and discipline look like in action. And I served under a few who taught me the hard way what leadership should never look like. Both lessons stayed with me.

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I grew up in Alcalde, a small town in northern New Mexico, on a 67-acre ranch in a traditional Hispanic home. I graduated in the top 5% of my high school class and had partial scholarship offers to play baseball, but I needed more money for college. And I had this restless curiosity.

“There’s something more out there,” I told myself. “I have to see it.”

So, I enlisted. I thought the military would help me grow up, travel, pay for school, and maybe find my path. I didn’t realize then how true that would become.

Boot camp in Great Lakes, Illinois, was hot, humid and humbling. There were days I second-guessed myself. But I pushed through. I became an Operations Specialist, trained in Dam Neck, Virginia. Eventually, I found a spot on the last ship out of the West Coast – the USS Fort Fisher, an amphibious ship already halfway through deployment. I flew to Mombasa, Kenya, to meet it.

Walking through the streets of Mombasa changed me. Locals would trade anything I had – a shirt, a hat – for handcrafted art. I still have an ironwood lion I traded for that day. I remember asking a hotel bartender how much he made a month. “2,000 shillings,” he said. That was about $50. He had a family to feed and bills to pay. That moment gave me perspective. It was my first real introduction to how different, yet deeply connected, we all are.

A different kind of service

The military taught me the power of systems. Every function, every role, every person is part of a process that’s been refined over decades – and those systems save lives. They create structure, consistency and a sense of purpose.

That stuck with me. Because when you build the right systems – in any part of life – you create the conditions for people to succeed.

I entered the Navy as an E1 and left as an E5 – Petty Officer Second Class – not an easy climb. And when I got out, I started to see another kind of gap that needed structure: support for veterans.

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At Southwestern College in San Diego, where I started after leaving the service, there wasn’t much for veterans – just a registrar’s window where you’d turn in your DD-214. If you were lucky, you had housing. If not, you were on your own. Benefits could take months to come through, and that delay could derail everything. Veterans go from a world of strict order and purpose to one with none, and some don’t know where to turn.

That experience stayed with me. As my career evolved and I discovered the transformative power of philanthropy, I realized this was my mission – helping people learn, grow and advance. That’s what drives me. Connecting people, creating opportunity, building systems that make life better for others – it’s a different kind of service, and one I’m proud to continue here at The Beach.

Southern California has a strong military presence, and many veterans come home right here to ������Ƶ. I often visit the VA hospital near campus. Every time I do, I’m reminded that our work at Cal State ������Ƶ matters. Veterans need systems and programs that support their transition, help them find purpose, and enable them to thrive.

As they pursue their education here at CSULB, we can help them overcome barriers through mental health support, housing stability and clear pathways to the workforce. Veterans are independent by nature. They don’t always ask for help – but once you give them direction and a goal, they’ll get there. Show them the target, give them the tools, and they’ll move with purpose.

What they need most is to know that we care – that we see them, that we’re here, and that we’ll walk with them.

Because there’s an unspoken bond among veterans, no matter where I go, when I meet another veteran, that connection is instant. It’s powerful. As Veterans Day approaches, I think about my brothers and sisters in arms – those who gave their blood, sweat and yes, their lives – so we could live with the freedoms we enjoy today.

I’m grateful for them. I’m thankful for what the Navy taught me. And I’m grateful for the chance to keep serving – this time, by building systems that help others rise.

Dan Montoya is vice president of University Relations and Development at The Beach and a veteran of the U.S. Navy.

Beach Voices is a feature that allows members of The Beach community – students, faculty, staff and alumni – to share their firsthand experiences. If you would like to be considered, send submissions labeled “Beach Voices” to StratComm@csulb.edu.