Santa Clara University

Jeannine Torres

Why College?
by Jeannine Marie Torres

On April 20, 1884, my grandfather, Christopher Joseph De La Torre, was born in a small house in Michoacan, Mexico. At the age of 20, alone, and with only a grade school education, he decided that he wanted to cross the infamous California-Tijuana border. He wanted a better life than what was available to him in his hometown and he had heard many great things about California. My grandfather began working in 1904 as a laborer in San Francisco for the railroad, which eventually became his permanent career.

In 1903, my grandmother, Meicaella Alatorre (nicknamed Marie), was born near La Capital de Mexico (Mexico City). Her parents, who wanted a better life for themselves, decided to move to San Francisco in 1906. In 1919 my grandparents met each other. They fell in love and were married later that year at the Guadalupe Church in San Francisco. While my grandmother was only 16 at the time and my grandfather was 35, the age gap between them was not all that uncommon for couples during the early 20th century. My great grandparents pressed the marriage between my grandparents because they felt that my grandfather was a responsible, established, Hispanic, older man who would be able to take care of my grandmother. In 1922, my grandfather changed his last name from De La Torre to Torres because he felt that it would be easier for the Americans to understand.

My father, Thomas Kenneth Torres, was born the youngest of 13 siblings, to Marie and Christopher in 1947. In 1959, at the age of 75, my grandfather passed away leaving his wife a widow and a legacy of children. My father, being only 12 at the time, took on many adult responsibilities including obtaining a job to earn money to help support himself and his mother while trying to attend school at the same time. My father witnessed many of his older siblings attempt college but watched every single one of them drop out for various reasons. Many of those reasons pertained to family matters. So in the end, not one of the 14 children in my father's family completed college, including my father.

My father went on to complete his diploma in 1965 at John O'Connell Technical Institute, a vocational high school for boys in San Francisco. John O'Connell taught my father several skills that would help him get a job either as a machinist or a mechanic after he graduated. My father loved what he was learning, for he had strong passions to fix, build, and rebuild automobiles. My father played with the idea of possibly going to college and eventually someday becoming a high school auto shop teacher like the ones who had inspired him. All of my father's potential college and teaching aspirations quickly dissipated a few months before he was about to graduate when the woman he was dating revealed to him that she was pregnant with his child. My father asked her to marry him not only out of love but also for the sake of his unborn child. My father went to work immediately after graduation so that he would be able to support his growing family. In December of that same year Steve Torres was born. My father, who was barely 18, worked two jobs just to pay for his family's expenses. My father admits now that by starting a family so young he never really learned the correct way to treat a wife. After work he would stay out late with his friends without a care for what she may have needed back home. He expected her to take full responsibility for everything including the house and their child because that was what a woman was "supposed to do." In the latter part of 1966 my father's wife left him and eventually married another man whom she is still married to. Later that same year my father met up with a woman whom he hadn't seen since his early adolescence: my mother.

My mother, Joanne Yvonne Leone, was born to Erma Irene Bushberg and Joseph Leone in San Francisco in 1948. She was the second born of five Leone children. Erma Bushberg and Joseph Leone met each other and were later married at Mare Island in California in 1944. Erma, my nonna (Italian for grandmother), was born in El Paso, Texas in 1924. Her family emigrated to the U.S. from various parts of Spain and Germany in the mid-1800s. After completing the 11th grade she was forced to quit school in order to help support her family, since she was one of the oldest of eight children. She regrets quitting high school but she did it because her family needed the financial support and she was obligated to help out. Her first job was working in an assembly line at a factory and later she helped to build submarines during the war at Mare Island where she would meet her future husband.

Joseph Leone, my nonno (Italian for grandfather), was born in Connecticut in 1911. His parents emigrated from Sicily to the U.S. sometime in the 1800s. His mother passed away when he was fairly young, which greatly impacted his family. His father remarried a woman who was verbally and mentally abusive to him. At age14 he left home and never returned. With only a seventh grade education behind him and no hope for any further education, my nonno worked various jobs until he was 18. At 18 he joined the Navy and in 1944 was stationed at Mare Island to help build and sail ships during the war. There he met Erma who quickly caught his eye. Even though she was 13 years his junior they immediately fell in love and were married later that year. My nonno was honorably discharged a year later from the Navy after breaking his shoulder. So my nonno and nonna moved to San Francisco to settle down and start a family. My nonno became the union president of the post office and worked there until the day he retired. My nonna was a housewife until her five children were grown and then she took a job at the post office with my nonno until she retired.

My mother and her four siblings grew up in a modest household where respect, religion, and moral values were of the utmost importance. My mother met who would be her future husband (my father) at the age of 12 when her older brother Bobby became good friends with him during junior high school. My father was well known because he was the only kid in junior high school who drove a car. But during high school they all lost touch with each other. At a community dance my parents were reunited with each other and both felt that there was immediate chemistry between them. By the end of 1967 my parents were officially dating and my father took my mother to her senior ball. My mother eventually graduated from Balboa High School in 1967, one year after my father.

My nonna was very upset when she learned of my father's proposal to my mother, whereas my nonno was happy for them. My nonna believed my father to be a deadbeat who she felt would ruin my mother's life. While my nonna had no qualms with my father being Mexican, she believed that he simply was not good enough for my mother. She knew of my father's previous marriage and divorce and about a child he could barely support, and now he wanted to marry her daughter. My nonna was outraged that my mom would want to marry such a man. Over time my mother eventually convinced my nonna that he was not such a bad man and in the end she reluctantly gave her consent. So, in 1968 my parents were married at San Francisco City Hall. Later that year they bought a house together with help from their parents. During that year my mom decided that she would attend the Community College of San Mateo where she eventually obtained her AA degree in accounting. My mother was one of the only one of her siblings besides her little brother Ronnie (who graduated from San Francisco State University) that even attempted a college education. In 1969 my sister April Diane Torres was born which halted any of my mother's future college desires. My mother decided to become a housewife while my father went to work as a Teamster driving big rig trucks. In 1970 my brother Tommy Kenneth Torres Jr. was born and nine years later in 1979, I was born. At that point my parents had sold their house and had moved from San Francisco to Redwood City.

According to my other family members, it was not a shock when my parents eventually divorced after 15 years of marriage. I was far too young to fully understand what was going on, being barely four years old. My parents marital problems ran very deep; there were things left unsaid, things left undone, and many accusations and no amount of counseling seemed to help. After the divorce I lived with my mom, moving from my parent's comfortable three bedroom house to a tiny one bedroom apartment, while my brother and sister (ages 13 and 14) remained with my father. During that time my half brother Steve, from my father's first marriage, was also living there. My parents believed that it would be better for me to reside with my mother because my father's work schedule did not allow him to take care of me.

Growing up I did not get to see my father or my brothers or sister much due to my parent's busy work schedules. My father kept his job as a Teamster, which kept him working very long hours. My mom, on the other hand, was busy trying to support herself and a daughter all on her own. With a new job at a local bank, and very little support from my father (as he was taking full responsibility for my older siblings) my mother struggled everyday just for us to be able to live from month to month. I am sure it was difficult for her to suddenly become completely independent after being dependent on others virtually her whole life. This was the first time in her life that she had ever lived on her own. She had moved straight out of her parents' home directly into my father's with the full responsibility of being a housewife and mother. My mother continued working very hard at various jobs but none quite seemed to satisfy her in terms of hours or pay. Of course the jobs that she could choose from had to be flexible enough to allow her time to take me to and from school, to daycare, and eventually home.

Money was always an issue in my household and I can remember most of my mom's conversations to her friends were about "making rent," "paying bills," "buying food," "and trouble supporting me." While my mother did her best to always buy me things I wanted, I remember always feeling guilty about asking for things that I may have needed for school, or even for fun, because I always heard the same phrase: "I am not sure if I have enough money right now." I remember some nights going to bed hungry because there wasn't any food in the house. We were also always moving. We always stayed in Redwood City but the apartments and duplexes would always change. As soon as we would get settled down in an apartment, six to 12 months later we would move to another, more affordable place. I wondered sometimes if I should even unpack my things because I always knew that a few months later I would be moving again. It was a little unsettling every time we moved but I eventually got used to it and tried making games out of it by dreaming up all of the ways that I could resituate furniture in my new room.

My mom is a very talented glassblower and at one point had enough money saved and took out enough loans to open up her own business in downtown Redwood City called "Joanne's Glass Creations." Her business did quite well for the first year. Her glass innovations catered to weddings and special occasions, but business eventually started to taper off and she was not able to make enough money to cover the store's costs during slow times. Only two years after opening, my mom's store filed bankruptcy. While things were tough we always got by somehow. My mom tried very hard to take the best care of me that she could. She did the best that she could, taking into account her available resources. Despite all of our financial set backs she has always been a very good mother to me.

After attending St. Pius Catholic school for the latter part of elementary school, I was placed in Kennedy Middle School, a public junior high school. During this time my mother decided that she wanted to move to Seattle, Wash. for reasons undisclosed to me. My mom had tried to convince me on several occasions leading up to her move to go with her, but I refused to go. I wanted to stay close to the rest of my family and my new friends. So, for the second time in my life, I found myself living with my father.

It was difficult and unsettling living with him again in a house that I had lived in only until I was four. My father was almost a stranger to me. Of course I knew him, but he wasn't someone I felt comfortable going to if I had problems. I missed my mom and I felt that she had in some ways abandoned me to chase something I didn't understand. I felt as if she had decided to relinquish all of her responsibility for me onto my dad. My mom and I did not talk for a few months after she moved, but once we did, we tried to keep in touch as often as possible. I would make frequent trips to visit her during school vacations.

Before my mom had even decided to move to Seattle I started going through a very rebellious phase. I used to think that my mom moved to Seattle because she couldn't handle me. I started cutting class, not caring about school, and not abiding by anyone's rules. My mom might have figured that my dad could straighten me out. However, my dad was not able to do much about my behavior either. While my dad was very nice and supportive towards me when I first moved in, he did not hesitate to reprimand me for my dropping grades nor yell at me when the attendance department would call him telling him that I was not in class. But none of it phased me. I simply did not care. I just wanted to hang out with my friends and do what I wanted.

That attitude followed me into my freshman year at Woodside High School. My grades were good enough to get by but they were nothing special. It was not that the schoolwork was hard, it was mainly my attitude towards school. I found high school boring and very unchallenging. My attitude did not change much even when I started a new high school in Seattle. My mom, with fears that I was not going to do any better, convinced me to move in with her and my sister (who had recently moved up there). My dad was upset with my decision and told me that if I moved I was not welcome to come back to his home again. I was incredibly hurt by what he had said. He later apologized to me, stating the reasons he had said what he did was because he did not want me moving all the time and that he wanted me to be situated in one place. I thought that was funny considering I had been moving around my whole life. I later understood that he really meant to protect me and that he was slightly hurt that I wanted to move away from him.

After only one year and a few months of living in Seattle and attending West Seattle High School, I decided that I needed to move back down to California with my dad. I was unhappy in Washington, my grades were not improving, and my mom and I were not getting along. So that summer I moved back with my dad and was enrolled again at Woodside. My junior year of high school I got my first job and started to learn how to be responsible. I started to take my grades and my classes more seriously because the threat of not graduating was imminent and I knew I wanted to get out of high school. My senior year I decided to transfer to Sequoia High School in Redwood City because I felt that if I could get away from certain friends who did not care about school, classes, or graduating that I would be able to concentrate more on my schoolwork. Which is exactly what I did.

My experiences during my four years of high school are probably why college was one of those words that never worked its way into my vocabulary. Of course there were visits by college representatives and essay writing workshops, but my main focus was on graduating on time. The college application deadlines for various universities came and went without even a notice from me. I just wanted to graduate because once I did that then I could focus on my future. My senior year was quite successful. I had at least a 3.5 GPA every quarter, I was working two jobs-one at a youth health center and one setting up live music concerts with a non-profit company-and I was involved with several school projects. But in terms of knowing what I wanted from my life, I had no idea.

Closer to the time of graduation there were a lot of people who had decided to drop out, many because they didn't care, many because they needed to work to make money, and many of them because they were pregnant. I felt very sad for a lot of the girls, not because they were having children, but because they were having them so young. I knew that their lives would be concentrated on taking care of their children. They would never have time to be young, they would be tied down forever, but worst of all, I knew most of them were doing it alone without the fathers. I knew that I definitely did not want that from life and I knew that I definitely did not want to start a family yet. But seeing them made me think about what I really wanted to do after I graduated.

Eventually many of my friends who had applied to colleges started buzzing about all of the different universities they had been accepted to and which ones that they were going to attend. I felt a little awkward and left out at times because I wasn't going to any sort of college or university. At that point I knew I really needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Should I work or try to attend college? Did I really want to go to college? Why did I want to go to college? I had struggled all through high school because I was unmotivated. Would college be like that if I tried it? I knew it was too late to apply to any California state colleges or universities so I really did not know what to do. My brother Steve never attended college. My sister April had attended the Art Institute of Seattle, where she attempted to obtain her AA degree. After only a year she was offered an incredible internship that she could not pass up. Without completing her degree she decided to choose work experience over the very expensive classroom experience because she felt that it would be the most beneficial for her. While she liked the Art Institute she did not feel it was necessary to attend a traditional college for the field she was interested in and was quite happy with her decision. My brother Tommy had attended the College of San Mateo (CSM) to study aviation, but after six months the flight classes became too expensive and he started to reevaluate if that was what he really wanted to do with his life. He decided to quit CSM to work as a machinist, which eventually helped him find his passion in building motorcycles. While he felt that college might have paid off more in the long run he is happy with what he is currently doing.

After evaluating all that I knew about college I wondered if it was going to be right for me. Both of my parents would occasionally ask me about my plans after graduation but my answers were always the same: "I don't know." At that point in my life I had no idea where I was headed. My dad always told me that he would support me no matter what I did. If I wanted to work that was fine and if I wanted to go to college he would help me find a way to pay for it.

My going to college was almost accidental. A Foothill Community College representative came to Sequoia to give a general overview of the school and a friend of mine asked me to attend the informational hour with her. I went and discovered that I was interested in possibly attending. Foothill offered several different classes, majors, and I even knew a few friends who were planning to attend. I was very intrigued that they offered a music business major. I had been working in the music industry producing my own live music shows for two years and I was really excited when I discovered I could possibly major in that. I was happy to know that my life was finally heading in some direction. It was a start anyway! I decided to check other community colleges in my area to see what they had to offer but Foothill seemed to be the best choice. They made it very easy to apply, there were no lengthy forms, no entrance essays, and no SAT requirements (which was good because I never took them), no application deadlines, and surprisingly it was very affordable. After taking the proficiency exams I was "in."

My first year at Foothill, I know now, was really just a way to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. It was sort of a transitional period for me, moving from one aspect of my life to another with the hopes that I would find what I really wanted to do. I enrolled in various classes trying to figure out what actually intrigued me. I was very drawn to the music business classes that they offered and took several of them.

When I discovered that I could take certain classes that could help me transfer to a four-year university I realized that was something that I would like to do. I had heard about many successful transfer stories about people who started out at Foothill and had transferred to various top-notch universities, then proceeded to graduate and eventually obtained some incredible jobs. I found that extremely inspiring. I wanted to have a meaningful job, one that I looked forward to going to everyday. I wanted a job that would pay me well and I realized that several of the jobs I was interested in, for instance in business, required a four-year degree. For once in my life I wanted to work really hard for something. Of course I had worked hard my last two years of high school but it was mainly because I felt I had to do. This was something that I wanted to do. It felt good to have goals. I no longer felt as I did in high school-directionless, unmotivated, and unchallenged. Now I had something to look forward to, something to strive for, and something to challenge me. So from that point on I started working on transferring from Foothill with an AA degree. I changed my major quite a few times while attending Foothill. It went from psychology to photography to music business to eventually just business. While the music industry major intrigued me I decided to major in business because it was a more versatile degree.

Three years and over 100 classes later it was time for me to apply to the university of my choice. I ended up applying to 10 different schools that I had researched on the Internet or had heard about through Foothill's Transfer Days. Being an honors student I was able to obtain several recommendations. I decided to apply to Santa Clara University after I had visited and fallen in love with the campus. It was gorgeous, close to my family, the classes were small (like Foothill's), and the faculty was undeniably warm and welcoming. Santa Clara immediately became my number one choice.

Of course the college application process that I went through in order to apply to my top 10 college choices was a very frustrating and yet rewarding experience. The applications were lengthy and each required their own separate essay that reflected my personality, my aspirations, and my reasons for wanting to attend that particular college. And for the first time in my life, I actually paid attention to the little boxes that asked you to check what ethnicity you are. I had always disregarded them before and simply checked Hispanic or Latina, but after seeing so many of them for the different applications, I actually started thinking about why I denied my Sicilian ethnicity. I was not just Mexican, I was Sicilian as well. I had two parents with two different ethnicities and so I should rightfully acknowledge both. So from that point on I decided to check all that apply.

When it came to my essays I found myself with a horrible case of writer's block. I felt very alone because my parents did not help me during the application process, probably because I don't even think they were fully aware that I was even applying. Besides, it would have been difficult for either of them to help due to the fact that my mother was still living in Seattle and my father was busy working. Nonetheless, it did not keep me from feeling all on my own. I knew most people had their parents or other family members helping them out in terms of researching schools and filling out the applications. Many of them took various trips together to check out the colleges they were interested in. I barely even got my mom to fly out to the East Coast with me to check out one college. My boyfriend, Chris Kim, and my sister eventually came to my rescue. My sister, who is an avid writer and a great advice provider, helped me figure out ideas on what I could write about in my essays. My boyfriend, who is currently attending Stanford University to obtain his Ph.D. in Geochemistry, helped me in whatever ways that he could. He supported me, gave me advice, and proofread my applications. He even gave me the encouragement to keep trying, especially when my self-esteem dropped.

During the application process, which lasted several months, I honestly started to believe that I would not get accepted into any of the schools where I applied. On several occasions I wanted to give up because I was stressed out. I was juggling filling out the forms, writing the essays, schoolwork, working two jobs, and taking care of my club responsibilities, and I had no idea if I was ever going to finish or even succeed. I thought, who was I kidding? I wasn't good enough to get into any university; there were so many better applicants who had better GPA's, better essays, and more experience than I did. I became even more depressed when I found out there was a slim chance for transfer students to be admitted to select universities. But with the help of my sister, the very strong support of my boyfriend, and my determination not to fail, I applied to every school that I thought I would even be remotely interested in attending.

As my acceptance letters came pouring in I was so happy and it seemed that my hard work was really paying off! With only two rejection letters I eagerly awaited for my last response, which would be from Santa Clara. I remember when the letter from Santa Clara finally came in the mail. I remember looking at the very small envelope with a disheartened feeling. I eagerly opened it and quickly learned that they had rejected me for the fall 2000 quarter, and I remember feeling devastated. At that very moment it seemed that all I had worked for had been a waste of time. I remember sitting on the steps at home in tears because it felt as if my fear about not being good enough to get into a university was coming true. After calling my counselor at Santa Clara he informed me that the reason I was not accepted was because I was missing a few very important classes that I needed in order to be admitted into their business school. He also informed me that if I made the classes up that I could reapply for the winter quarter. At that point I had a decision to make. I could forget about Santa Clara, my number one choice, and attend one of the other seven colleges I had been accepted to, or I could finish one more quarter at Foothill and hopefully transfer to Santa Clara the following quarter. I was very hesitant because it was not guaranteed that I would even be accepted by Santa Clara. I decided to risk it. I would finish the necessary classes at Foothill and then reapply. If I did not get in I had no idea what I would do.

By doing this I knew I was giving up all of the other opportunities I would have to attend the other universities. If I did not get into Santa Clara then I would not have another college to go to because I knew the other universities would not wait one full quarter for me. It was scary and risky but I put everything on the line because I was determined to go to SCU. So I took summer courses and fall courses at Foothill in order to make up the classes I was missing and dealt with everyone asking me at Foothill, "Didn't you graduate already," and, "I thought you were transferring?" I worked really hard to pass a calculus class that fall (math is excruciatingly hard for me) because I knew that if I didn't pass I could kiss going to college that year goodbye. In the meantime I set up the arrangements to reapply for the winter quarter.

After much anticipation in December of 2000, I was ecstatic to find a big, fat envelope in my mailbox that said I had been accepted to Santa Clara for winter quarter 2001. I remember jumping up and down with enthusiasm and I even hugged my landlord who happened to cross my path as I was walking back to my apartment.

My first day on campus was exhilarating and a little disorienting at the same time. While the campus is not very big it was quite unfamiliar. I did not know where any of the buildings were, so the map that I had received at orientation was like gold. I think the biggest difference I noticed at Santa Clara within the first week was the students. At my previous college, many of the students were older adults and many already had families of their own. Many had completely different aspirations than wanting to obtain a degree or transfer to a university. Many were first generation students and every single one of them had different reasons for being there. Here at Santa Clara, not only was I a transfer student, but also a first generation student. I am finding out that I am a rare breed. It is intriguing meeting people who mostly come from similar backgrounds and who are all around the same age. There are not too many first generation or transfer students at Santa Clara but everybody here has the same goal, and that is to graduate with a four-year degree.

It is tough being a transfer student at Santa Clara not only because of the commuting if you live off campus (which is most likely because it is hard getting housing as a transfer student), but also because it is a fairly small university and everyone already knows each other. Because I do not live on campus, I have never shared a dorm with anybody, and I definitely have not been here since I was a freshman, it has been a little difficult befriending people since it seems that everyone already has an established circle of friends. My first quarter at Santa Clara was probably one of the loneliest times of my life. I had just left a college where I knew practically everyone and now I knew absolutely no one. My very first day of classes was quite an experience. I remember feeling very left out because everyone seemed to know everyone and not one single person even glanced my way or said hi. It was as if I did not even exist. I was happy to see a friend of mine who had also transferred from Foothill walk into class. It was a little comforting, but the isolation I felt persisted through out the rest of the day and most of the 10-week quarter. By the end of the first quarter I really only knew three people, two transfers from Foothill and one woman from the orientation. I knew that I wanted to meet more people.

My plan was to get involved in school activities. Because I was a marketing major, spring quarter I became an acting officer of the American Marketing Association (AMA) chapter. I applied for a job and was hired by the Activities Programming Board to be the music chair (because I love music), and I applied to live on campus in the Sobrato apartments for the following year. Between my new position in the AMA, and taking several of the same classes with people who are also in the business school, I started making new friends. I am sure that next year working and living on campus will definitely help me meet even more people.

In general it has been a little difficult because both my parents have taken a very limited role in my college career. I sometimes wish that they would get more involved in what I am doing. While my father, who has worked very hard all of his life and whom I admire very much, helps me out financially, I currently live on my own and take responsibility for everything that I do. In a way I think that my college experience is definitely different then most of the students on campus.

Even though it is only my third quarter at Santa Clara, I have recently begun to feel a little insecure. At my previous college I rarely received a grade lower than an A. But since I have been here I have been receiving many lower grades such as B plusses or Bs. I feel as if I am losing my edge. I wonder if Santa Clara is going to think that I am a fraud now that they see the grades that I am currently receiving versus my prior grades. Of course it is true that Santa Clara is somewhat of a tougher school than Foothill Community College, but I honestly feel as if I should be doing better. My only encouragement, besides confiding in my sister and my boyfriend who are always willing to give me advice and a cheering up if needed, is my determination that next quarter is going to be better because I will try even harder.

It's not that my parents did not want me to go to college. It's more that they assumed that because none of my other siblings went very far in their college experiences, I would not either. Of course my parents were very proud of me when I decided to go to college and they were even more proud when they found out I was transferring to Santa Clara University. But I know that for both of my parents college and university life is a huge mystery. While they are very supportive in all my endeavors I get the feeling that they really would not know what to do if I asked them for help. I did everything on my own that pertained to attending college- everything from retrieving information on colleges, to applying, to orientation.

While my parents and my other family members strongly support me being in college, there have been times where college, my goals, my values, and my family have been in conflict. Growing up I was always taught that family came first, and on quite a few occasions I was asked by my mother, and encouraged by others, to quit school for a while to move to Seattle to work and to help my sister take care of her children. I declined, not because my family and my sister were unimportant to me, but because I had a strong desire to finish college. I knew that if I quit school there was a large possibility that I would never go back and that scared me. In some ways I think that it was difficult for my family to understand what they were asking me to do and I felt very torn over my decision. But in the end they accepted it.

College has been quite a learning experience for me and writing this chapter has given me the chance to evaluate my past and present self, and my future goals. I have even learned a great deal about my family history. Finishing my education is very important to me and it has been my goal for the past four years. I am determined to make something of my life. Growing up without money was, and still is, an issue, but I hope as I get older and graduate from college that it will become less of one. I realize now that I am going to college not only because I love learning but because I want to make something of myself. I want to feel as if my life has purpose and meaning. I don't want to struggle with money, I don't want to work at unchallenging and dead end jobs, and I don't want my children growing up worrying about the things that I worried about. I want to pay my dad back someday for the second mortgage he took out on his house just to pay for my college education.

My parents are good people who raised me well. I know that they have done everything in their power to make my life happy and comfortable. I just want to try a different path that they were not able, or chose not, to follow in their own lives, and that path is college. I consider myself an ambitious person who sets goals without ever considering failure as an option. I may feel defeated at certain times but I am always determined to pick myself back up to keep trying. My father has always told me to never give up and has recited this particular quote to me several times: "Society can take away everything that you own and love but they can never take away your knowledge." My mother has always told me to follow my dreams. I try to live by their words everyday. One statement that I learned quite recently from a man named Jim Cash, who is a professor at the Harvard Business School, really touched me and I know that I will add it to my parent's words of wisdom. He said, "What would you do if you weren't afraid?"

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to thank my family, friends, and boyfriend for always supporting me in their many different ways. I would also like to thank Laura Nichols for giving me the opportunity to participate in this project.