You Never Stop Being First-Generation

I am a first-generation faculty member. Typically, those of us in higher education do not associate generational status with anyone other than undergraduate students. But it is crucial for our institutions, our faculty and our students that we begin to change that stance.

Today, colleges and universities are increasingly launching first-generation initiatives with the goal of pairing first-gen students with first-gen faculty members. The belief is that, through robust mentorship, first-generation students will feel inspired and prepared to successfully attain their educational pursuits. Without question, such programs are noble and have proved to be effective. After all, such pairings not only provide students with practical lessons about how to navigate college, but they also often expose students to the hidden curriculum of higher education—those informal and implicit demands that differ from an institution’s official curriculum but are just as vital for success.

Yet despite pretty universal agreement that first-generation support services are beneficial, they tend to vanish once these students advance beyond their undergraduate experience. Higher education institutions pay far less attention to the plight of first-gen graduate students, and any specialized support for first-generation faculty pretty much trickles to a halt.

To be sure, the attention on undergraduate students is well merited. After all, undergraduate study is the entry point to most all professional and graduate training. In addition, according to the Postsecondary National Policy Institute, such services are greatly needed. For instance, first-generation students generally have lower rates of college readiness and are more likely to come from low socioeconomic backgrounds than their continuing-generation peers. First-generation students are also more likely to be historically underrepresented and minoritized students.

Meanwhile, as a recent Inside Higher Ed article noted, first-generation students are among the most highly sought in higher education. Indeed, with ongoing legal challenges against race-conscious affirmative action, postsecondary institutions may increasingly look to generational status to diversify their ranks.

But despite all the attention and monetary investment on first-generation status when bringing students to campus, this attention seems to wane often as students progress beyond undergraduate study. The presumption seems to be that first-generation status diminishes or ceases to be relevant after that. Nothing could be further from the truth. First-generation status matters, and it matters beyond undergraduate admissions.

The truth is that first-generation-ness exists within a continuum. In other words, you never stop being first-generation but instead transition from one lived experience to another. That reality became most salient to me as I worked on finishing my doctoral studies.

As a Ph.D. student, I had a chance to serve as a student regent for the University of California. In that capacity I visited every system campus at least twice. On one such occasion, I toured the newly opened University of California, Merced, campus. During this visit, I spoke with and heard from several student services professionals. It was here that one of the academic support counselors lamented about their office being grossly understaffed to meet the needs of the predominantly first-generation student population—hailing mostly from poor and working-class backgrounds in California’s Central Valley.

He hinted that many of these students needed support with time management and study skills, and that they needed to be persuaded that it was not necessary to travel home every weekend. As he spoke, I had an epiphany: “He is talking about me!” Never mind that I was a doctoral student working on my dissertation. I still faced many of the same challenges as my undergraduate peers.

It was then that I understood: I would never stop being first-generation. Instead, I would move along a first-generation continuum, transitioning from one experience to another, but all the while remaining first-generation. I transitioned from being a first-generation undergraduate to being a first-generation graduate student and a first-generation postdoc. I now share these reflections as a first-generation tenured associate professor.

Being first-gen often means that you don’t know what you don’t know. As such, learning to navigate and maneuver research, teaching and service obligations with limited institutional knowledge and support, and too often in isolation, is a reality. For those separated from familial and community-based support systems, that reality can be hobbling. Formal mentoring and socialization programs are a start, but timely and transparent communication and policies, including a clear road map and timeline for promotion and tenure, are essential.

Ironically, postsecondary institutions have been slow to realize that the same urgency and impetus that focuses and drives their attention and resources toward supporting first-generation undergraduates continues to matter post–baccalaureate attainment. At each step along the graduate school and professional pipeline, generational status matters. Specialized socialization models and support programs that are understood to help first-generation undergraduates prepare to survive and thrive in college are no less important further along the educational pipeline. They need to be tailored to support graduate and professional study, as well as entry into the professoriate, paraprofessional and administrative ranks.

For instance, for first-generation students pursuing graduate and professional study, the standards and mechanics of the academic job market often represent a departure from backgrounds anchored in blue-collar jobs or even poverty. Indeed, even the job-search process itself represents a new endeavor, with salary negotiations, course releases and related supplemental supports—like professional development monies, summer ninths, editorial assistance, student assistantships and so on). We must make the hidden curriculum of faculty life visible from day one of doctoral study.

I will never forget how one of my own mentors, a first-generation scholar herself, taught my classmates and me about the politics of a campus visit. She shared, “You are ‘on’ from the time you open your hotel room door [or Zoom link, in current times] to the time you close the door behind you upon your return.” Yes, all academicians are expected to enter the field ready to manage research, teaching and service obligations. Still, it is easier to navigate academe with a road map and a flashlight than in the dark.

Colleges and universities will no doubt continue to provide support services, including mentorship programs, intended to help first-generation students apply, enroll and ultimately succeed in higher education. We should applaud such efforts. But postsecondary institutions would do well to remember that faculty who were once themselves first-generation undergraduates continue to need tailored support services at each new stage of academe.

First-generation-ness and acquiring proficiency to succeed in academe exist on a continuum. The decision to provide first-generation programs and support represents an investment in the potential of such students. Colleges and universities should not shortchange their return on this investment by ignoring the distinct needs of first-generation grad students and faculty members.