By Elizabeth Garcia

“Hay que trabajar duro para salir adelante,” which translates to “we have to work hard to get ahead” is a phrase that echoes through my being. It encapsulates the perseverance of the working class and it has been the reality of my parents for as long as they can remember. It's a way of life I have inherited from them.

Growing up, excelling in school was my adaptation of the phrase. I had the privilege of receiving a free K-12 education, which is something my parents didn’t get to experience. While having access to education was a privilege, looking back, I realize I had a toxic relationship with academia and consequently, myself. I was constantly stressed and anxious because I had tied my self-worth to my academic performance and I was pushing myself to the edge because if I wasn’t, I felt like I wasn’t working hard enough.

I was also motivated by the fear of not going to college. “Tienes que estudiar para vivir una vida mejor, una donde no tienes que trabajar como nosotros,” translating to “you have to study to live a better life, one where you don’t have to work like we do,” is what I would always hear when talking with family. I honestly did not want to continue the cycle of poverty (that disproportionately affects marginalized communities)–the one that has made my family members work 10-12 hours a day, 6 days a week under unsafe conditions just to barely make a living. I wanted better for my family and I, so I felt a strong urgency to go to college. In the process, I had pushed past my limits. I was trying to keep up in all my AP coursework, and I was heavily involved with extracurriculars that passed personal boundaries. All of this resulted in poor sleep, hygiene, and problems with mental health. However, going to a good college without my parents having to worry about paying was my family's biggest dream; the dream of my brother and many others who come from a similar background as mine. Though I was going through it, I felt the need to reach my dreams no matter what.

As a first-generation low-income student, getting accepted into Emory was euphoric. For the first time in a long time, I felt joy and could envision my future. Relief embraced me; something I desperately needed after experiencing everything I did in my 3 short years of high school. However, I was completely knocked over by a harsh reality when I became a student at Emory, quickly realizing that these institutions weren't built for people like me to succeed. This was evident in my first semester, where I found myself struggling in my introductory biology and chemistry classes. I was barely a full-time student, yet was drowning in my coursework. I continued my toxic cycle of not asking for help and pushing myself, leading to complete burn out. By the end of my first semester, I was doubting myself and felt like I didn’t deserve the space I took up at Emory.

I used my second semester as a reflection period. I had no idea what I wanted to major in mainly because this was the first time in my life I was putting myself first. However, I was consumed by feelings of guilt and stress because I felt I wasn’t working hard enough. I wasn’t making progress towards a certain degree, so I felt behind my peers. Despite all of this, I found the first faculty member at Emory that I could confide in. Without her support, I wouldn’t have made the leap to major in Math and Computer Science.

I made sure my third semester was a smooth transition into Math and Computer Science, so I only had a couple of classes. This semester marked the first time I had an instructor like me in math. His name is Roberto Hernandez (has his own posts up! Check one out here) and having representation, support, and guidance was what I needed. With his connection, I was able to get in touch with Jasmine (the editor) as well! Access to community is so important and it’s something that I wish I had in my Introduction to Computer Science class. Though I was working hard and trying my best, it was still so difficult as a complete beginner.

Now I’m finishing up my fourth semester, but it feels like I’m going backwards. I felt the need to “prove myself” by taking multiple math and computer science classes. However, it has been detrimental to my growth. What I thought was “working hard” just made my unresolved burnout even worse.

I thought coming to Emory would solve all of my problems, but it has presented me with a new set of challenges. It has made me self-aware of the detrimental effects of my version of working hard.

These realizations have led me to prioritize my health and let go of the need to prove myself academically. I belong at Emory, and in Math & Computer Science, but not at the expense of my well-being. It's time to reconstruct my mindset and behaviors for a healthier approach to academia and life.

Elizabeth Garcia is a Salvadoran-Honduran-American, first-gen, second-year undergraduate student at Emory University studying Math & Computer Science. She is passionate about social change and bridging the gap between success and underrepresented students in STEM.