I was always a good student, but also struggled.
Cloaked under good grades that assured my distant parents that all was well were feelings of alienation, helplessness and even shame. My first year was the hardest. In high school, I spoke up in class, but in a university lecture hall or discussion group, I was mum. I soon fell into common routines–residence, class, cafeteria. University’s supposed to be about broadening your horizons, right?
It often felt like an overwhelming power was pressed on me. It was the institution and the privilege it symbolized. It was the school’s unfamiliarity. It was other students who did worse in school but seemed to belong here more than I did. It was felt in the anxiety I had in conversations in which I had nothing to add.
I didn’t realize this early enough, but I wasn’t alone. The experience I had was the same as many other first-generation university students–those who never had parents attend a post-secondary school. I later learned that there were many of us–in fact, 27 per cent of Canada’s post-secondary population, according to a 2012 Higher Education Quality Council of Ontario estimate. We often come from poorer, racialized families with parents who know little about postsecondary education.
First-generation students can struggle adjusting to university life. This was true for me. It has a lot to do with the concept of cultural capital – the skills, materials, and habits one acquires from being part of a group–and habitus–the life experiences through which people acquire cultural capital. Middle and upper-class students have the advantage when it comes to those two concepts because the university experience is more closely aligned to their lifestyles.
Most students have parents who attended post-secondary school, and since education is a strong indicator of higher socioeconomics, they also bring more privileged lifestyles. This repeats generationally, making university culture essentially theirs. Their advantage is further reinforced by having parents who can help their children navigate the complexities of academia, and more importantly, better understand their experiences and offer emotional support.
Within this system, first-generation university students enter a culture different from the one they grew up in–and one that can imply their inferiority. That’s where feelings of dislocation, alienation, and imposter syndrome originate and manifest into poorer grades, difficulty making friends, and mental health issues at higher rates than their privileged peers. Without parental help, first-generation students must quickly learn the new cultural conventions. Sociologists have compared it to learning the rules to a new game as they play, where their opponent is ready beforehand.
Some also take longer to graduate while others drop out. In a 2000 survey in which almost one million Canadian students were polled about their experience, results showed poorer students were likelier to drop out. Working-class students were also far more likely to leave due to emotional and cultural factors, while wealthier students did so often because of bad grades.
I was shocked to discover the privilege of my peers, all of who were more relaxed about school than me. I grew up in an immigrant neighbourhood where summers were spent never leaving the city. I even tried transferring out halfway through my first year. I emailed Ryerson asking if I could transfer my credits to their journalism program. I couldn’t and panicked. No high school teacher ever questioned if I could handle university, but I did.
But I stayed and it soon got better. I met more friends and talked more in class and with my professors, despite anxiety about doing so. There’s something about being a first-generation student that gives you an underdog’s mentality.
I never talked about my experience with friends and I’m not sure if they ever noticed. While services are quietly available for students, no professor will stop a lecture and acknowledge that some students are the first in their family to be there.
I made it and you probably will too.
I received my degree this past June, and having my parents see it handed to me was worth the struggle.
Photo by Trevor Swann
