When I was preparing to come to Carleton I expected to be uncomfortable. As a first-generation student from a low-income household, I was afraid that I would be an outsider with less knowledge of higher education, about how to interact in a college setting or navigate social and academic situations. Sometimes I am uncomfortable. In language class, when we talk about our parent’s professions, it feels like most of the people here come from families of professors or doctors or lawyers—but I have to ask the professor how to say “my mother is a janitor.” I’m uncomfortable when I look at the cost of some clubs, classes and activities on campus, and realize that there are people who are able to pay for these with little or no thought. The worst I felt was during parent’s weekend, when I realized that I didn’t want my mom coming to campus, because I was afraid she would be uncomfortable, and that I would be uncomfortable and, worst of all, that I would be ashamed.
But, the thing is, I’m most ashamed that I’m uncomfortable at all.
I think that I made a mistake when I was getting ready to come to Carleton—I convinced myself that my financial background and the education history of my family would keep my from integrating completely into the campus or that, in some way, I would have something to prove. The truth is, I haven’t met one person who’s actively made me feel uncomfortable about my class. I feel like I’m uncomfortable because I’ve made myself oversensitive and hyper-aware. I’m truly worried that I’ve cast myself into the role of victim—thinking too much about the opportunities that I did or didn’t have, the privileges that I do or do not have, instead of just focusing on and embracing the opportunities that I do have available to me here at Carleton. I feel like I’ve imposed some of the barriers concerning class at Carleton on myself. No one on campus cares if my mom visits campus with or without a college degree under her belt and no one cares that I request financial aid if I want to participate in campus activities. No one cares except for me. I like to talk about class and education issues, and I like to incorporate my own experiences, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether I am portraying myself as the victim and accruing pity from myself and from others. I don’t want to. I want to talk about it objectively, but I’ve primed myself to act as if I’m one of a few low-income students in a sea of wealth and privilege.
And I’m ashamed about this too, because having been here and having engaged in this type of dialogue, I’ve met and talked to people who’ve come from incredibly diverse situations. I’ve met people who are much poorer than me, in situations I can’t imagine, and I’ve met people who are more wealthy, and have had setbacks and issues and barriers that I’ve never had to deal with.
When I came here I felt like I was alone, and I was on the defensive, and now I realize that I jumped to conclusions. I am ashamed that I thought I was special in my situation, and that I’ve allowed it to affect how I think about myself in relation to the rest of campus.
How can I change this next year? Should I stop talking and thinking about class and class issues? Should I keep the discussion away from Carleton and the Carleton campus? Should I leave my personal experiences out of the dialogue? These don’t seem like the best options. How can I talk to people--from different socioeconomic backgrounds—without sounding like I’m looking for their pity or admiration? Is this a reservation I’m imposing on myself and only myself—or will we always be uncomfortable when we talk about class and opportunity and our own lives? What can I do? What can we do? I’m honestly not sure.
- Anonymous
But, the thing is, I’m most ashamed that I’m uncomfortable at all.
I think that I made a mistake when I was getting ready to come to Carleton—I convinced myself that my financial background and the education history of my family would keep my from integrating completely into the campus or that, in some way, I would have something to prove. The truth is, I haven’t met one person who’s actively made me feel uncomfortable about my class. I feel like I’m uncomfortable because I’ve made myself oversensitive and hyper-aware. I’m truly worried that I’ve cast myself into the role of victim—thinking too much about the opportunities that I did or didn’t have, the privileges that I do or do not have, instead of just focusing on and embracing the opportunities that I do have available to me here at Carleton. I feel like I’ve imposed some of the barriers concerning class at Carleton on myself. No one on campus cares if my mom visits campus with or without a college degree under her belt and no one cares that I request financial aid if I want to participate in campus activities. No one cares except for me. I like to talk about class and education issues, and I like to incorporate my own experiences, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether I am portraying myself as the victim and accruing pity from myself and from others. I don’t want to. I want to talk about it objectively, but I’ve primed myself to act as if I’m one of a few low-income students in a sea of wealth and privilege.
And I’m ashamed about this too, because having been here and having engaged in this type of dialogue, I’ve met and talked to people who’ve come from incredibly diverse situations. I’ve met people who are much poorer than me, in situations I can’t imagine, and I’ve met people who are more wealthy, and have had setbacks and issues and barriers that I’ve never had to deal with.
When I came here I felt like I was alone, and I was on the defensive, and now I realize that I jumped to conclusions. I am ashamed that I thought I was special in my situation, and that I’ve allowed it to affect how I think about myself in relation to the rest of campus.
How can I change this next year? Should I stop talking and thinking about class and class issues? Should I keep the discussion away from Carleton and the Carleton campus? Should I leave my personal experiences out of the dialogue? These don’t seem like the best options. How can I talk to people--from different socioeconomic backgrounds—without sounding like I’m looking for their pity or admiration? Is this a reservation I’m imposing on myself and only myself—or will we always be uncomfortable when we talk about class and opportunity and our own lives? What can I do? What can we do? I’m honestly not sure.
- Anonymous