Life as a graduate student was boring, contrary to what many had cheerfully depicted in newspapers back in China: Classroom, lab, apartment; clipping coupons, shopping and cooking, saving every penny; playing cards on weekend with other Chinese, exchanging tips on getting a Green Card, discussing which professor had the most funding, which lab generated publications in the most prestigious journals, and who graduated and found jobs at top universities.

Every so often someone would rail against the Americans for failing to appreciate our brilliance and somehow, seemingly so easy for them, climbing to the top of the academic world.

For some, research was an indifferent existence one had to maintain in order to stay in America and make the family back home proud. For others, it was the pecking order to climb on top of, forged by a lifelong habit.

In that regard, I could understand Lu Gang. Academia was his only way of climbing up in America. When he flopped, he exploded at his fellow Chinese student - his rival - at his advisor and at the ambiguous American environment that failed him.

As time passed, overseas Chinese students' aspirations evolved, perhaps in sync with what was happening in China. No longer was a tenured professorship at a brand-name school seen as the only success.

Biology PhDs gave way to consulting and law. Those in math and physics went to Wall Street. Many switched to study computer and business. Dinner conversations shifted from academic publications to salaries, stocks and real estate prices. During calls home, my parents reminded me that wealth was now the ultimate measure of success.

I quit my PhD program in biology, wandered for a few years getting nowhere, and finally went for my MBA degree.

Sometimes, I wonder: if Lu Gang had gone to the US five years later, would he have been so obsessed with academic rivalry as to be driven to massacre? Would he have gone to Wall Street and become a millionaire, and perhaps even come back to China as a top employee of a well-known investment bank?

Unfortunately, we will never know.