Wednesday, March 22, 2017 // The Statement
6B
Personal Statement: A Place to Call Home
I
never expected to go to the Uni-
versity of Michigan.
I grew up in a small town in the
middle of a cornfield (also known
as southwest Michigan) and
graduated in a class of 59 students. There,
college isn’t “expected” by any means. The
town I grew up in has a population of rough-
ly 1,500 people and is primarily dominated
by agriculture and factory work.
It’s the kind of place that doesn’t offer AP
classes, but does offer a consumer’s math
course (basically we learned how to finance
a house and do our taxes — “real-life” math,
if that’s what you want to call it). We didn’t
have any college-prep classes like calculus.
The kids who did want to go to college — the
few that there were — were not exposed to
the rigorous curriculum that prepares stu-
dents for schools like the University.
Many of my peers entered the workforce
straight out of high school, per usual. It’s
more uncommon for kids in my town to go
to four-year universities than it is to get a job
and buy a house.
Because of this, I tried to keep most of my
college endeavors under wraps. Friends and
family members knew I wanted to go to col-
lege, but they didn’t really know where I was
thinking of applying. The general consensus
for most education-oriented students was
community college. For a long time, that’s
where I thought I would end up.
At some point during my senior year,
though, I started applying everywhere,
including schools with out-of-state, private
price tags. I didn’t apply because I thought I
would go to the schools I was applying to, but
just because I wanted to see where I would
get in. I had the grades, the ACT scores and
extracurriculars, but I came from a little
Midwest town in the middle of nowhere. I
wasn’t getting into the University.
So you can imagine the conflict of emo-
tions I had when I received a big envelope
in the mail with the word “Congratulations”
sprawled across the top. I wasn’t exactly
thrilled to be accepted to the University
of Michigan, mostly because a part of me
hoped I wouldn’t get in.
It sounds stupid, but I knew I wouldn’t be
able to attend a school with a price tag like
the University’s. It almost hurt to be accept-
ed and know that I couldn’t go. I had tossed
the idea of going to school here out the win-
dow at the same time I submitted the appli-
cation.
I hadn’t considered attending the Univer-
sity as a legitimate option, so now that the
opportunity was open to me, I didn’t really
know what to think. Kids like me who come
from towns like mine generally don’t even
apply to schools like the University, let alone
get in. I hadn’t been on a visit, I didn’t know
how I would major in nursing at a school
that people call “a public Ivy,” and I was
lacking in the math and science background
that I would need.
Ultimately, though, I decided to go. I
can’t really explain how it happened — one
second, I had given up any shred of an idea
that I would go to school here, and the next
(which was conveniently the last day to reg-
ister), I was enrolled at the University. I had
received financial aid and scholarships that
covered all of the costs, which I think was a
driving factor in the decision.
But there was something about unan-
swered potential that really made me want
to branch out and go somewhere I had never
even been before. So I enrolled.
I didn’t tell my family about my deci-
sion for a while, in particular because they
weren’t thrilled about the idea of me going
to college in the first place. My parents have
always been a little disengaged in the pro-
cess, especially after my brother graduated
high school. It’s hard to explain, but basi-
cally I was verified as an “unaccompanied
homeless youth” in high school.
I moved in with my brother during my
sophomore year. I worked two jobs and paid
for my own clothes, car, groceries and bills.
Neither one of my parents had been there for
me through the application process, so I did
it by myself.
Needless to say, it was pretty clear from
the beginning that if I decided to go to
school, I’d be responsible for footing the bill.
What I didn’t expect was the support that
the University gave me with my finances.
Once I realized I would have
the funds to go, it seemed like a
prime opportunity to be a first-
generation college student.
Looking back on it now, it
wasn’t easy being self-sufficient
in high school. But in the long
run, I appreciate the lack of
support I had at such a crucial
point in my life. It taught me to
be independent and responsible
in times where I shouldn’t have
to have been, and nothing has
prepared me more for my time
at the University.
What I wasn’t ready for was
how difficult it would be to go
through college without a tra-
ditional support system. It’s
frustrating — so unbelievably
frustrating — to not have the
support that I felt other stu-
dents had. As a first-generation
student who was alienated at
the start of my college career, I
consistently felt I was lacking support.
My family doesn’t really know the norms
of college, and I feel like I’ve missed out on
a lot because of that. Care packages haven’t
ever been a thing, nor will they ever be. I
don’t get phone calls from my parents asking
about my exams because they don’t remem-
ber when they are. There’s never been an
interest in my writing for the Daily, or for
attending a football game with me or seeing
campus.
At risk of sounding like an angsty 20-year-
old, I want to clarify that it’s not that my
parents want me to fail in life — they’re my
parents, they obviously don’t. But they don’t
see college for what it is, and that’s an oppor-
tunity for me to build on my potential. And
it seems that no matter how much time I
spend here, or how much work I put in, it’ll
just be considered a waste of time.
So despite the lack of background
knowledge in math or Spanish or what-
ever academic challenges I may have
faced that first semester freshman year
(and continue to face), those weren’t my
biggest obstacles coming into college. I
didn’t have a support system to fall back
on.
That hurt most when my roommates
were calling their moms for medical
advice, or when they needed a shoulder
to cry on after a hard exam or when their
families would come to visit. It’s why I
feel uncomfortable around my friends’
families — not because I’m envious or bit-
ter, but because I don’t know how those
things are supposed to work.
If you’re like me, and your family
doesn’t back you up as often as you wish
they would, the best thing you can do
is find a place that provides you with a
makeshift family. I got a taste of that with
my two roommates freshman year (lucky,
I know). But really, the place where I
found the most comfort was the Daily.
It sounds like such a plug and so
cheesy, but it’s true. I don’t know if it’s
because we never stop covering events or
publishing stories so it seems like a con-
stant presence, but the Daily is my home.
It’s like being a part of a sports team. The
older students have mentored me, and
picked me up when I’ve been down. The
people I’ve met have done so much for me
on an unbelievable scale, and I’m not sure
they know it.
But even with the support I’ve learned
in college, I still face challenges when I
go home. As a second-semester sopho-
more, my dad still asks me if I am plan-
ning to graduate. It’s like a surprise that
I’ve stuck it out this long, and even more
surprising that I plan on staying.
If I had a dollar for every time someone
implied that I couldn’t graduate from col-
lege, I’d probably have enough money to
pay the University’s tuition without any
financial aid.
Long story short, everyone has a differ-
ent path to Ann Arbor. For some, it might
be as simple as counting to 10. But for
me, it changed my life. It taught me to go
beyond expectations and to try things I
never thought I would ever be able to try,
and I feel like that’s kind of what college
is all about.
by Laney Byler, Daily Sports Editor
ILLUSTRATION BY EMILY HARDIE