Not a clue

If I were to sum up my experience as a first-generation university student in one word, it’d be clueless. Not in a pejorative sense, but quite literally. I had no clues, hints, pointers or suggestions regarding what I was doing.

I now have two degrees from McGill University in Montreal, Canada, but I didn’t know it even existed until grade 10 biology class, when we read an article on epigenetics research that had been done there. Even then, it didn’t occur to me that I could attend it – I lived over 600 km away, in a different province – and I didn’t know until frighteningly late in the university application process that I could use government student loans to attend an out-of-province university.

When I did apply, it was for life sciences. I had no idea what studying biology or chemistry or anything at a university level would be like, just an interest in science and good enough grades. Fortunately, McGill gave you a second application for free, and I chose physical sciences because I couldn’t make it to Montreal for music auditions. I was only accepted to the physical sciences programme, and went with the intent of transferring into life sciences. It took me about a year to realise I was actually in the right programme and declare a bio-organic chemistry major.

It wasn’t until my final year that I realised I was supposed to be spending my summers doing research if I wanted to pursue further education. And only after talking with international students during my master’s did it occur to me that I should have considered applying to other universities for graduate school.

Essentially, I spent my entire academic career realising with horrifying clarity what I should have done years earlier.

Navigating academia as a first-generation student can feel daunting and demoralising. A study looking at the childhood socioeconomic status of Nobel laureates found that the average laureate had a father in the 87th income percentile and the 90th education percentile. A different study found that workers from a low socioeconomic background are 32% less likely to become managers than those from a high socioeconomic background. The odds can feel impossible to overcome.

Mostly, it worked out for me. But at times, I had to work hard and get lucky to catch up to my classmates who had the benefit of their parents’ experiences in higher education. Looking back, I have felt something that almost reeks of grief thinking about the mistakes I made and the opportunities I walked unknowingly by.

Now, don’t get me wrong, at times not knowing better led to good things. No one told me it would be unusual to bring a bread maker to a student residence, and you can imagine the friends I made when the smell wafted through the halls. No one really advised me on what major or minors to take, so I took a gender studies minor just because it was interesting, and when it continued being interesting, declared it a second major. But I desperately wish I’d had a few more clues about higher education going in.

First generation students might lack academic cultural capital, but they are resplendent in unique experiences, understandings and standpoints. Creating, supporting and investing in programmes that provide resources to first-generation students – not only money but also knowledge and advice – isn’t just good for the students, but for science itself. A diversity of backgrounds leads to a diversity of perspectives, and the more ways we look at something, the greater the chance that we discover something new. When science is more inclusive, it prospers.