Sharing the Treasure (Map)
Institutions must provide charted paths for first-generation students to ensure their success.
By Sarah Jane Bork
I have always been that student who mapped everything out, from upcoming deadlines to next year’s coursework. Growing up with Harry Potter, I could not help but see myself as Hermione Granger, the bookworm know-it-all whose every-contingency planning and random knowledge constantly saves the day.
I had little choice other than to draft these plans myself. Everything I learned about school came from the movies or my parents. Being a first-generation college student meant that media was often my primary source. I did not understand what the college experience was, as evidenced by my ridiculous search history on questions like “what is rush week?”
This was amplified in graduate school. So much of success in academia relies on the ability to navigate the onslaught of information, sorting the necessary from the unnecessary. How was I ever going to be able to keep up with my study buddies, several of whom came from generations of engineers? One even had a sibling who had gone through our same program two years prior!
The unfortunate reality for me, both then and now, is that I don’t know what I don’t know. As much as I try to plan my way around this, I can’t match the multigenerational wealth of knowledge my peers possess. One example: did you know that you’re supposed to ask people to nominate you for awards? I didn’t!
I know I am not alone in this. Despite 56 percent of undergrads nationally being considered first-gen (i.e., neither parent has completed a four-year degree), only 29 percent of doctoral graduates are. These statistics are even lower when looking at more “prestigious” schools.
First-gen students are unsurprisingly at risk for attrition. We tend to come from a lower socioeconomic class, meaning we often work full-time to afford college. This does not account for the increased impacts of stereotype threat and impostor syndrome on us compared with our non-first-gen peers.
None of this is new. Yet after nearly a decade in higher education, I can’t help but think there are a few obvious solutions. Rather than a deficit mindset focused on providing resources at an individual level, why not look directly at the curriculum to see where—or if—students are taught about higher ed?
Before a high schooler can take on tens—if not hundreds—of thousands of dollars in student debt, loan providers and high school administrators should ensure students understand all their options rather than relying on parents to help them. For instance, I wish I had learned earlier about in-state versus out-of-state tuition, the difference in loan structures, the benefits of attending a community college and then transferring to save tuition costs, and more.
Undergraduate students should be offered a one-credit-hour course to walk them through the basics of career opportunities post-graduation, including graduate school. In addition to the fundamentals (consider doing research, pick your advisor carefully), it should include information on funding modalities, differences in career paths with master’s and doctoral degrees, typical milestones, degree timelines, ways to structure a research proposal, and requests for a strong letter of recommendation.
A similar model in graduate school should lay out the steps for “how to grad.” For example, how to read and write academic papers efficiently; perform a literature review; understand funding models for academia and apply for grants; network with other academics; build a working relationship with your advisor; and multitask research, courses, and life.
Add on a networking session and mentoring program with graduate students or program alumni and you’ve struck gold.
These resources would have drastically changed how I prepared for and selected my career. Earlier me would have decided to explore more industry pathways and study abroad before jumping into graduate school. Talking with graduate students in fields I was interested in but didn’t know well may have allowed me to find my niche of studying human experiences earlier in life.
I am a planner by nature and necessity. However, the vast uncharted wealth of existing institutional knowledge calls on those same institutions to ramp up their role in helping students sort through the academic landscape. It’s time we had a map to help us figure this out.
Sarah Jane Bork is an engineering education research doctoral candidate studying engineering graduate students’ mental health at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.
Image Courtesy of Sarah Jane Bork