If I had to sum up my experience as a first-generation student and a child of two immigrants in one word, it would be: lost.
My childhood is a blur of constant rushing and running, but the moments that stand out are etched into my memory. I can still imagine crawling over my two brothers, all of us squeezed together on a twin-sized mattress, just to get out of bed. It wasn’t the dream life that people imagine when they think of immigrants seeking better opportunities, but those moments shaped me into the person I am today.
My parents, who grew up in China, were forced to drop out of high school at the ages of 15 and 16 to support their families. With no formal education, they had limited job prospects, so they worked in a restaurant owned by fellow immigrants. Their lives became an unending cycle of 100-hour work weeks with no time for vacations or rest. My brothers and I spent much of our childhood sitting in the back room of that restaurant, watching our parents hustle from one table to the next, meeting the needs of every customer with tired smiles.
At home, it was often just us kids. By the time I was seven, I had already mastered making myself breakfast, running the washer and dryer, and timing my mornings down to the minute to catch the school bus. While other children my age were carefree, I had already learned how to navigate independence. But with that independence came a quiet loneliness—a recognition that there were things no one could teach me.
Back then, school felt like a chore. I wasn’t particularly good at it, and I spent more time texting my friends or daydreaming than paying attention in class. But as I got older, my parents’ sacrifices became a clearer lens through which I viewed my own life. Their struggles made me realize that education wasn’t just about earning a degree or adding titles after your name—it was about opportunity. Every lecture, every assignment, and every grade became more meaningful when I understood that knowledge was the one thing my parents had never had the chance to gain. For them, and for me, education was the key to unlocking a life with choices, not just survival.
Going to college as a first-generation student felt like being dropped into a vast ocean without a map. My high school counselors tried to help me prepare, but nothing could truly prepare me for the reality of navigating higher education on my own. The most valuable lessons I’ve learned weren’t written in textbooks; they came from the trial and error of trying to figure everything out myself. I remember sitting in front of my laptop, staring at financial aid forms, trying to make sense of terms like "FAFSA" and "subsidized loans." The silence of those late nights was broken only by the soft rustling of papers as I filled out forms, hoping I was doing it right.
Through these moments of struggle, I learned what it means to persevere. Perseverance, I found, isn’t just about pushing forward—it’s about staying afloat when the waves feel too strong. I learned to ask for help and lean on others when needed. Though I spent much of my life trying to handle everything on my own, I’ve come to realize that independence doesn’t mean isolation.
These experiences have also taught me to see my background not as a limitation, but as a source of resilience. My childhood has shaped me into someone who can adapt, who can push through uncertainty and find meaning in even the smallest victories. While I may have started this journey feeling lost, I’ve learned to find strength in the challenges I’ve faced.
That’s why I’m in the process of creating a platform specifically for first-generation students, a place where they can find the resources and community they need. This platform will be that space—a hub for advice, tools, and connection. I envision it filled with guides on how to apply for scholarships, step-by-step instructions for tackling financial aid forms, and forums where students can share their experiences and offer support to one another.
The platform I’m building is my way of paying forward the lessons I’ve learned. It will provide first-generation students with the information they need to navigate the complexities of college life, but more importantly, it will create a community where they can lean on each other. Through this platform, I hope to show students like me that while the journey may start with a sense of being lost, there’s a whole community ready to help them find their way.