All my life I had considered myself a part of this country. However, in the fall semester of my junior year of high school, the universe made me feel as though I wasn’t.
It reminded me that, at the age of five, I had moved from my hometown in West Africa to join my mother in the U.S. under Temporary Protected Status, or TPS. TPS does not lead to permanent resident status, but allows those under it to get a job and travel if it is granted to them while they are staying in the U.S. temporarily.
In my junior year, I learned for the first time that students under TPS are ineligible for federal aid, according to the eligibility requirements dictated by the Free Application for Federal Student Aid, or FAFSA. Students under TPS are also ineligible for financial aid at a majority of the schools in the U.S and for most other scholarships.
When my adviser told me I was ineligible for federal financial aid for college, I went straight into denial. It made no sense. For almost four years I had attended private school paying little to nothing because of financial aid, so how could I suddenly be ineligible for it?
Right in that office, I realized that I had wasted almost four years of an undeserved opportunity. I spent my high school years so depressed about my lack of social life and worried about fitting in that I had missed out on all the academic opportunities before me. Since the beginning of high school, my grades had never quite reached my full potential, and now I could see that my number of possible colleges—already small due to my not-so-stellar grades—would decrease roughly from nine to four now that I was ineligible for financial aid.
Fortunately, one of those four colleges—though not at the top of my list—offered me a non-federal college scholarship, but it still wasn’t enough money for me to afford their tuition. From there, my list decreased to three schools I never thought I’d have to consider, but were my only options fiscally: a community college, a state college and a state university.
I dropped the community college off the list out of pride. I did not want people to think little of me and see me as the girl who attended a good private school only to then enroll in a community college. After that, I dropped the state college off the list out of pride as well, as it was not as highly regarded as the state university.
As if things could not get any worse, my mother lost her job the summer before my freshman year of college. As the fall semester drew near, panic mode swooped back in, and in addition to worrying about what all incoming college freshmen worry about, my thoughts were consumed by how I would ever afford to pay off a $12,000 tuition fee. Fortunately, my mother decided to use all of her 401(k) to pay off my first semester of college.
During that semester, I became depressed, and even though I joined a few clubs, it was hard for me to make friends. I tried, but the fear of not continuing another year with my potential companions and the embarrassment of having to explain my situation to countless people often kept me from going to club meetings and exploring different campus events. Not only that, but I also found it hard to connect with people in every club because I envied the lives they had. I was jealous of them only worrying about paying off $500 to $1,000 a year, and I was also jealous that their parents had extra money to pay for their extracurricular expenses. I remember sitting with people and listening to them complain about their tuition fees, which were less than $1,000. It made me angry at how ungrateful they were about the financial aid they were receiving. It made me covet their situations. They had the life I wanted, but unfortunately, it wasn’t possible for me.
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After my mother paid off my tuition with her 401(k), my depression subsided, and I was grateful for a second chance at pursuing a career. But towards the end of my second semester, we were faced with the same dilemma again: how to pay off another $12,000.
By the end of the year, my grades had slipped lower than they had ever been before, my tuition bill was unpaid and I was unable to sign up for classes due to the hold on my tuition payments. In the midst of that, I lost all faith in God and slipped into a spiral of depression and hopelessness. Eventually, however, I regained my faith, and God came through.
My nana decided to loan my mother more than $6,000 and an anonymous benefactor gave us a $5,000 non-federal scholarship to cover the rest. Here is the crazy part: this all happened a couple of days before move-in day for my sophomore year.
Excited to return to school for my second year and obtain another chance at receiving higher education, I made a vow to give this semester my all, even if it would be my last. I realized my ineligibility did not own me and that letting your troubles get the best of you solves nothing.
So far, my return to the university has not placed me in the dark hole it did last year. Though late, I am doing excellent in all my classes (I pray that continues) and my social life is slowly but surely getting to the place I would like it to be at as a sophomore in college.
Many have said that I am blessed, and I realize now that they are right. From now on, I have vowed to try my best to not take anything for granted and to have more faith and optimism even when things seem impossible.
Recently, I signed up for the Dr. Pepper Tuition Giveaway (this year they’ll reward $100,000 to a student with an amazing story and a wonderful plan to impact the world $100,000) so I could share my story with others. I feel as though I’m finally getting somewhere in life, and I hope the good luck and faith I’ve had will carry me through to my senior year of college.
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