This Saturday, I am going to graduate college.
At one point in my life, that is a statement I thought I would never make. In fact, I can pinpoint the first moment I thought I’d never attend college: I was fifteen years old, and I was beginning to grasp the reality of my situation and what that meant in regard to my future. Like a self-absorbed teen, I felt as if I were in a depressing coming-of-age movie: after the epic quinceañera scene of excitement in which I officially became a woman, I was crushed to learn that the future I had hoped and dreamed of would never come to be.
Jokes aside, it was a struggle to accept this. I dealt with feelings of depression as I strained to see hope. Beyond my own control, I felt robbed of a future that many of my peers did not seem to worry about. College was an expectation, not an aspiration. For myself, it was a mix of both.
Since I was a little girl, my parents, especially my mother, always encouraged me to attend college. My mom was adamant that I would have every opportunity she never had, that it didn’t matter how many toilets she had to clean to send her little girl to receive the best education she could. Truthfully, I don’t think I even understood why it was important to pursue higher education, at least at first. I just knew that it was very important to my mom. You don’t want to end up cleaning toilets for the rest of your life like me, and you won’t have to if you go to college, she would tell me.
Truthfully, there was always light peeking in through the darkness. An ex-boyfriend’s mom (who happens to be a counselor at a local high school) told me to keep doing my best in school, to stay involved in track and cross country, and to apply for scholarships. A cousin invited me to tour colleges with her step-daughter junior year of high school. A few very special high school English teachers encouraged me to continue writing (one of whom empowered me to write about this very experience, which ended up becoming my college essay.)
As I come to the end of this chapter, one I feared I’d never begin, I cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the support I have had along the way. With that being said, I did not earn this degree without the help of my village, the people I have met and connected with along the way. I know so many first-generation students who feel the same. It can be a struggle filling out the FAFSA, figuring out financial aid, housing, and meal plans, learning your way around a campus that feels like a new world. It certainly feels lonely at times. But through this struggle, we connect with others experiencing the same and become united and empowered.
Being a first-generation graduate, there is a sense of this degree being bigger than yourself. Throughout this last semester of college, I’ve been moved to tears at the mere thought of hearing my name called and crossing the stage at the commencement ceremony, not only because this is an accomplishment for myself, but because it is an accomplishment for both past generations and generations yet to come. That sense of this degree being bigger than myself is what pushed me through the toughest of moments in this higher education journey, and I’m sure it will continue to be my motivation in my career and beyond. To first-generation students: whether you are trying your best to tough it out right now or are thriving, know that the challenges presented by college are worth it, that one day you will thank yourself and everyone who helped you along the way.