When I arrived at college in the fall of 1987, I had no idea how out of my depth I would feel. I kind of sensed it, but once I got there, it hit me hard. I wasn’t struggling because I was in a new part of the country or dealing with culture shock—we were all young, fresh out of high school, and eager for our first taste of independence. No, what I struggled with was something deeper.
The school I attended was a small, private liberal arts college. The size wasn’t the problem, nor was the liberal arts focus—it was the “private” part. I had never been to a private school before, and it became clear that many of the students came from families that could afford this kind of education. I didn’t know everyone’s financial situation, nor did I need to, but it became obvious quickly. These were kids whose parents could pay for their college education outright, something I couldn’t relate to.
While they took for granted little luxuries like grabbing pizza regularly, going out to eat, or even having a phone in their dorm room (a big deal back then), I was just trying to get by. I came from a single-parent household, and my mom would send me what little she could—a few dollars here and there. When she sent me $20 or $30, it wasn’t for extras. It was for basics, like laundry. Back then, I would wash everything together because separating my clothes into different loads would use up too much of the little money she sent.
So, even though I enjoyed college, that first semester was rough. It was a stark reminder of how poor I was.
But what saved me were the people. I still remember two young women, Kelly and Stacy, who went out of their way to engage with me. Both were outgoing in their own ways, and neither ever made me feel like an outsider. They would come by to check on me and my roommate—something I wasn’t used to. Even though they came from families with means, they never flaunted it. They invited me to their room, and we bonded over shared interests, like music and dancing. What touched me the most was that they cared enough to simply talk to me.
When someone comes into your life and feels out of place but doesn’t show it outright, you’d be surprised how powerful a simple conversation can be. Whenever I look back at those days and think of Kelly and Stacy, I’m grateful. They probably didn’t know it, but their kindness played a huge role in helping me stay. They didn’t pressure me to stay—they simply made me feel like I belonged, like I deserved to be there, too.
#CollegeLife #Belonging #Gratitude #OvercomingChallenges #KindnessMatters #1980sCollege #FindingYourPlace #StudentStruggles #PowerOfConnection
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