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Bianca Maldonado FIRST GENERATION I grew up in a family that wasn’t always focused on their own personal academic success. Most of my older family members, like my tias and tios, only finished elementary school and some high school. Out of ten older cousins, only one finished school and actually graduated with their Bachelor of Arts degree from Cal State Long Beach. It always seemed like they talked about going back to school to finish and get a degree, but none of them showed initiative to actually go back. It was just words to them, but I didn’t want to be like the rest of my family.

According to the National Center for Education Statistics, the percentage of Hispanic people that graduate from a 4-year university within 4 years is 32%. I didn’t want to be part of the 10% of students who dropout between the ages of 18-24. I knew this from a young age, which surprised many people in my life. I had this mindset because I grew up in a predominantly Latinx area. In middle school, my parents were always open with me about how they would want me to get an education and have a better life than them. A lot of these conversations happened in our kitchen while my mom was washing dishes.

“All we want is for you to go to school and graduate with a degree,” my mom said.

“Why? I know I want to, but why do you always tell me this?” I said, confused.

“We don’t want you to struggle and live paycheck to paycheck like how we do now. We want you to live in a house and not have to worry about how to spend your upcoming check on bills and food,” my dad said.

I was reminded of this almost every week as I kept getting older and as I kept complaining that school was getting harder. I was reminded by watching my parents struggle financially, I was reminded by seeing my tias and tios struggle financially, and I would definitely notice when I would go to my friends’ houses. Whenever I would go to my friends’ houses, I would see the type of life they were living; nothing like mine. They were able to call their place an actual house, they would have their own room, they’d have a pool, a living room that was separated from the kitchen, a dining room, and a backyard. I got jealous that I didn’t have those things. All I had was an apartment, a shared room with my older brother, no pool, a living room that was connected to the kitchen and dining room, and no backyard. I remember I would come home and tell my mom about the houses. She would be in the kitchen making dinner and I would be all giddy from just hanging out with my friends.

“They have a cool room with a big bed and lots of fluffy pillows!

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