***written last Wednesday but worthy, i think, of posting.***
I am about to walk into my first ever grad school class.
This is SUCH a big deal to me. This breaks down so many walls.
To me, growing up, college was a non-option. It was mandatory. Somehow it got in my brain quickly that I was going to college and I was going to work hard to get there. I recall my mom telling six-year-old me, “You’ve got to get scholarships Maritza, I’m not going to pay for college.” I wasn’t sure what college was, exactly, but I knew that anything less than A’s was unacceptable and that to do what was expected of me, I needed to work hard.
In short: I had a goal and I pursued it, unquestioningly. If I got a B, I thought I was failing. I would tell people I was failing. And I didn’t intend to exaggerate, it’s just how I considered the issue. (It didn’t hurt that Bs got me grounded.)
Then I got a full ride to UT, got three simultaneous majors, and was done.
Until God said, “No, you aren’t.”
So today I start grad school. Something, until recently, that was never a goal of mine.
I thought smart people went to grad school.
Smart rich people.
Smart rich white people. Probably men.
And I, your average-intelligence latin-american girl living below poverty level (and loving it) am somehow, now, part of this world I always thought reserved for people “other” than me.
Oh mercy. Here we go.