Every Great Dream Begins with a Dreamer: the hardships of first-generation students.

Every time someone would ask me, "How did you end up becoming a teacher?", my heart would sink a bit.

SPOILER: There is no cute story here.

I don't come from a family of educators, I don't even come from a family that went to college. How did I become a teacher? I was told to.

If your jaw dropped a bit, it's okay. Many kids around the world are't offered the freedom & choices awarded to American kids. Many kids around the world aren't give the option to discover themselves & dream, or quite the opposite, they are given the choice of becoming a doctor or engineer. They are instructed to kill their other passions just to have a respectable career and live comfortably, so they can care for their parents in their old age.

Because my parents worked so hard, they always assumed I would go to college. I didn't have a choice on that matter, and I'm happy I didn't. After all, they wanted an easier life for me. My parents worked three jobs, and I worked since the age of ten so I wouldn't have to take out school loans. I had to make sure I was committed to my major, I could't afford to waste my parents' time or money, so I had to graduate with a profession that would secure a living. There were a couple of requirements: I had to study something that was "good for a woman", and I had to be able to support myself, without counting on a man. Sexist and contradictory? Maybe. I knew I had to go to college, but what would I study?

My senior year of high school I enrolled in AP Psych. For a moment, I thought I wanted to be a counselor & work with kids. That AP Psych class was the first time I was immersed in an environment & surrounded by highly motivated & outspoken kids. I felt way out of my league, like an imposter. I was the only students in the class that did not take the AP test. I lacked the study skills & support. It's hard to navigate a world where you have no idea where you're going, what you're doing, and there's no one to show you the way. If you don't have a mentor, who paves your road? The teacher never once asked the reason behind my decision. I don't think she even noticed, or maybe she didn't push because I was an ELD? By then, I have been in the States for 7 years. I was going to school full-time, working part-time, playing sports after school, Polish school on Saturdays, and taking AP Spanish. I wish my teacher would have approached me, empowered me, and supported me. I had to fail psych class twice, in order to learn my lesson. Third time's the charm, I guess.

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I always loved kids and had the natural ability to connect with them. At one point I explored becoming an ELA teacher, but was discouraged, since it was "a lot of reading and writing." Funny, I would go on to study and analyze literature in Spanish, my third language, eventually publishing a master's dissertation on Puerto Rican cultural identity. Once, I even explored teaching elementary, but was advised against it, since high school teachers make more money. Ha. Hilarious, cause my first year of teaching I made less than people collecting unemployment.

I saw my high school counselor only once, during our mandatory junior year appointment. I have never been to his office, couldn't even tell you the names or faces of the admin, but that was considered praise-worthy. Not knowing the counselors, administration & support staff meant that you were a "good" (read: invisible) kid and didn't get in trouble. When he called me into his office for our five-minute "check in" and asked me about my college plans, I already "knew" that I wanted to be a middle school Spanish teacher. But now, he was asking where I wanted to go to college. This, I was not prepared for. I couldn't even name one college in our state & never been on a college campus. All I could do is look at the college paraphernalia flooding his office, and stare back at him blankly. To make a long story short, my counselor threw out the name of his Alma Mater, which he recently graduated & recommended I apply there. That's the only school I applied for. I like to put all my eggs in one basket. It's a good thing I got in.

The hardships of first-gen students don't end once they get into college. Even though I wasn't into Greek life, I sure got a hazing my freshman year. Due to a "scheduling error", my college advisor accidentally put me in a 300-level Spanish literature class that was beyond my abilities. As a freshman, I was surrounded by juniors & seniors. I was struggling to keep up, even with my 5 on the AP Spanish test. Even though the teacher was an immigrant himself, he never noticed that my performance in the class was partly due to a wrong placement. There were 18 kids in the class, at most. I wish he would've asked me why I was lost in class, or why I skipped. I'm sure if he took the time to ask, listen, and understand, we'd discover that it was't due to my "lack of motivation" that my grades were low. This class was in my major, and this was the first time I was getting lower than an "A" in Spanish. EVER. That was a soul-crushing & made me question if I truly was a "good fit" to be a teacher. Since I didn't have a choice, couldn't waste time & money, I wouldn't let them break me. And SPOILER: They didn't & I was a great fit.

How heart-breaking must it be for first-gen. students to realize that their hard work, dedication, and resilience aren't always enough. I had to become an expert in two languages, develop strong work ethic, not take anything personally, always keep my chin up & accept that it would be a life-long struggle to measure up. It is tiring to work so hard and know that your rich classmates are paying for others (maybe even first gen. kids) to write their papers. It's discouraging when you know your classmates have connections, jobs lined up as soon as they graduate, while you always need a back up plan, just in case the bottom falls out again.

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Throughout my teaching career and personal experiences, I have learned that content is built on relationships. If we truly want our students to succeed, the biggest gift we can give them is our empathy & mentorship. After all,"a mentor is someone who allows you to see hope inside yourself (Winfrey)."