My parents always hoped I'd go farther than they did in school. However, when I was young, it didn't look like I was destined to do great things. I didn't like going to school. I didn't like reading books. I just didn't feel particularly bright, and the truth was, the school I went to wasn't a nurturing environment for my mind to expand.

I went to Decatur Classical School, a painfully small and competitive school for gifted youth. In Kindergarten, we began learning Latin (a very dead language) and we were already expected to know how to read and write--but not just read and not just write. We had to understand what the words meant and then write down what they meant, making our own meaningful sentences.

I've since learned that IQ is genetic, so, if your parents are smart, chances are you will be, too. However, in this school, there was something that set me apart from other kids. My parents didn't go to college. The other kids' parents were professors, doctors, and lawyers. Mine were and still are victims of the cruelty of minimum wage.

I was treated differently at this school because my parents didn't have the time to get involved at the school. We weren't able to donate money for class things. My parents would have to ask for the day of the school playoffs since that was the only thing they attended all year. For projects, mine would always look hastily done and messy, and the other kids' were quality work.

It's no wonder why I didn't like going to school. I was just as smart as the others, but I was pushed to the wayside for something I couldn't control.

I finished at Decatur Classical, went to another elementary school for two years, and then finally went to high school.

My freshman year of high school was all regular level classes and then my sophomore year put me in all honors. In order to be an honors student, your teacher at the time had to recommend you. When my adviser told me this, I was stunned. Me? All honors? I didn't think I could handle the workload, but my teacher Mr. Salinas (who I still accredit much of my success to today along with others) encouraged me.

From then on, I was only in honors and AP classes. Getting all of those recommendations and excelling in those classes gave me hope. Perhaps a college would actually accept me and I could do well there, too.

Fast-forwarding to now, I am definitely in college. While being smart is something I don't have to worry about anymore because I've proven it to myself time and time again, there are still struggles that being a first-generation brings.

For starters, to acknowledge the elephant in the room, I am in enormous debt. Debt so gigantic that if I even begin to think about that number, I might give myself a myocardial infarction. Yes, there is FAFSA but still, it's scary to think about. While I know that people who come from higher income backgrounds get little to nothing from FAFSA and that I'm definitely not alone, sometimes I just feel personally victimized by the government. For undocumented students, my heart goes out to you.

Being in huge debt means that I literally cannot afford to fail. Flunking out of college means I am unemployed and the degree I was working toward earning would be the only thing that could save me. In other words, flunking is complete financial suicide.

Besides the money of going to college being a struggle, just being the first one to go is hard. We all have rough patches and our parents may try to calm us down. They mean well, but through my tears and gritted teeth, I have told my mom, "You don't understand. You've never gone through this."

I feel mean when I say it. I know she wishes she could have been afforded this opportunity, but things didn't work out that way.

Another thing is that while I am in college for myself, I can't help but feel that I am in college for others, too. I love what I am learning and it's mostly for me, but thinking of how I could help out my family by having a degree is always in the back of mind.

Someday we could have our own house. My mom wouldn't have to work at her job that she hates and is not paid nearly enough to do. Maybe I could even be a philanthropist, having the time and money to help others.

Being a first-generation student is tough. Sometimes it's so hard that we want to give up, but the guilt of giving up is immense. I often feel in those vulnerable moments like I am letting myself down. I'm letting my mom down. I'm wasting my potential and my talents.

But I always show up to class the next day. I still turn in the work. I keep going, and that's an accomplishment because those are the days that matter the most. That perseverance lets me know that I'm not finished. I won't be finished when I have that degree. I won't be finished when I take the MCAT. I won't be finished when I have my MD.

I'll always be a student, learning from life, learning in a classroom, and maybe even someday teaching others.