You walk onto campus for the first time. Everything feels new. And then it hits you: no one in your family has ever done this before.

For many of us from immigrant families, college isn’t just our own achievement. It carries the weight of everyone’s expectations, everyone’s sacrifices, and a pressure that says: Don’t fail — not just for you — for all of us.

Here’s what I’ve learned. And here’s what I’d tell anyone who’s walking that same path.

You belong here.

There will be moments when you question why you’re even in college. Most students do at some point — especially first-gen students.
But those moments don’t define your place here. You belong here because you were admitted. Because you’re willing to learn. Because the system needs your voice, your perspective and your determination.

A special note about doubt: If you come to find out that BVU isn’t for you, that doesn’t mean college isn’t for you. If you have doubts about whether college at all is right for you — that’s okay. You’re definitely not the first or the last person to feel that way.

Talk to someone about it. A family member, a friend, a staff member, a professor. Let someone know. You don’t have to carry that doubt alone.

You don’t need to have everything figured out.

A lot of first-gen students feel like everyone else already knows how college works. Some do. Many don’t. But it looks like they do.

Some students have parents or siblings who explain financial aid, internships or how to email professors. Others arrive already familiar with campus culture because someone in their family went before them.

But plenty of people — including many who seem confident — are figuring it out as they go.

College is designed to teach you, not to be mastered on day one.

Give yourself grace to learn the system. You are not behind. You are exactly where you need to be.

Learn how to ask for help.

One of the biggest advantages you can give yourself is getting comfortable asking questions — or at least getting over the fear of asking.

Professors, advisors and campus staff expect questions. Office hours aren’t just for when you’re failing. They’re for when you’re curious, confused or just need direction.

Asking for help does not mean you’re dumb.

You might have pride from years of handling things on your own. Maybe you had to be the “responsible one” at home. Maybe you translated legal documents for your parents before you could drive. But college is different. It’s a system designed to reward curiosity, not silence.

At BVU especially, the staff and faculty are incredibly kind. Use that.

College is opportunity. And opportunity requires visibility.

Learn the “hidden curriculum.”

College has unwritten rules  — things people don’t always explain because they assume you already know them. And whether you do or don’t know them, that doesn’t make you any better or any less.

Examples of hidden curriculum:

• How to write a professional email
• How internships actually work
• Why networking matters
• How to ask for a letter of recommendation

Pay attention. Ask questions. It’s okay to say: “I’ve never done this before — can you walk me through it?”

I’m not lying when I say your professors want to help. BVU also has a Career and Personal Development Center to support students with these things. If you’re too shy to go alone, take a friend! Or Google it — Google is your friend!

Money stress is real.

Financial pressure can feel constant, especially if your family is making sacrifices to support you. Maybe you hear your parents whisper about bills. Maybe you feel guilty every time you buy a textbook.

You can’t make that disappear overnight. But you can reduce its power over you by taking action early.

Take time early to:

• Understand your financial aid package (ask someone to walk you through it)
• Look into work-study opportunities (on-campus jobs will work around your class schedule)
• Apply for scholarships throughout the year
• Buy used textbooks or check online first (or even wait until the first day of classes before you buy them)
• Go to thrift stores for school supplies (costs add up quickly, and you’d be surprised how much you can save)
• If you’re struggling, talk to your financial aid office.

While on the note of money stress, here’s a reminder: FAFSA isn’t a one-time thing. You’ll deal with it every year. You might already know that, but it’s better to repeat it than assume.

Find your people.

Belonging doesn’t always happen immediately. That’s normal. It took me an entire semester to find my friends at BVU. I wondered for weeks if I’d made a mistake coming here.

Then, slowly, I found my people.

Look for:

• Student organizations
• First-generation student programs
• Clubs tied to your interests and hobbies
• Study groups (great for learning and connection — shared stress can bond people)

Spaces like these can make a small campus feel bigger — and remind you that you’re not the only one figuring this out. It might take days or months. But believe me when I say: you will find your people.

It’s okay to feel caught between two worlds.

You might feel like you’re constantly balancing two identities.

That tension is common — and it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. It means you’re bridging two worlds that weren’t built to connect easily.

Some days you’ll feel like neither world fully understands you. I get it — it feels lonely. But it’s also a sign that you’re building something new. Over time, you’ll learn to move between worlds without losing yourself.

Your family might not fully understand your experience.

Your family may not know what college demands day to day. They might not understand:

• Why you can’t help them at every hour of the day.
• Why you’re so tired even though you’re “just studying.”
• What your major actually means.

That gap can be frustrating. Sometimes it hurts. Your feelings are valid.

What might help:

• Explain your workload in simple terms: “This week I have three exams, so I’ll be less available.”
• Share small wins: “My professor liked my paper!”
• Adjust expectations: Recognize that their support may look different — and that doesn’t make it less meaningful.

A parent who doesn’t understand your major but still asks, “Have you eaten yet?” is still supporting you.

Build a bridge for your family.

Many first-gen students to immigrant families become accidental translators — not just of language. Your parents might not understand what a syllabus is, why you have “no homework,” but still need to study, or even what a “major” or “minor” means.

Instead of getting frustrated, you can build small bridges.

Examples:

• “I have three big projects due before December — so if I seem stressed, that’s why”
• Invite them to a family night on campus — many schools host them!

You don’t need them to fully understand. You just need them to feel included enough that they don’t feel rejected. Immigrant parents don’t know where to start most of the time, you do need to keep them in the loop if you want them to start to understand what you’re going through.

Not every friend or professor will understand.

Some people will say well-meaning things:

• “Why don’t you just ask your parents for help?”
• “Can’t you just take an unpaid internship?”
• “Just relax — college is supposed to be the best time of your life!”

They aren’t trying to be mean. They just don’t understand. Don’t spend your energy explaining yourself to everyone.

You don’t need everyone to understand you. You just need a few people to see you.

There’s a difference between guilt and responsibility.

A lot of first-gen students carry a heavy, unnamed feeling.

You might call it guilt: guilt for being on campus while your parents work, guilt for having fun when your family is struggling, guilt for speaking English better than your native language, or guilt for starting to feel different from your family.

You are not responsible for fixing everything at home. You are responsible for using your education intentionally.

Guilt is not a compass. You can care and have boundaries. You can love and say no. You can honor your family and honor your own needs.

Redefine success before you need to.

You probably grew up with a very clear image of success: graduate, get a “good job,” and never struggle like your parents did. That image kept you going and might still keep you going.

But college has a way of complicating that image. You might fall in love with philosophy. You might realize you hate chemistry. You might discover careers your family has never heard of.

This can create a quiet crisis: “If I don’t become ________, am I disappointing everyone?”

Success isn’t a title; it’s building a life that works for you, even if it’s not what your family imagined.

Give yourself permission to change course. Understand that your family’s hesitation often comes from a place of protection, not control — they just want you to be secure.

Take care of yourself — not just your grades.

There can be a quiet, crushing pressure to prove that all the sacrifices were “worth it.” That pressure leads to burnout fast.

Burnout often doesn’t look like failing. Sometimes, it looks like getting an A, but crying in private. Sometimes, it looks like never sleeping. Sometimes, it looks like losing excitement for things you used to love.

Prioritize your well-being: get enough sleep, use campus mental health resources or talk to friends, and keep doing the hobbies that make you feel like yourself.

Success in college isn’t just about pushing harder. It’s about sustaining yourself for the long run. A burned-out lightbulb can’t light the way.

It’s okay to outgrow old versions of yourself.

You will change in college. That’s the point.

You might question beliefs you grew up with. You might find new hobbies, new values, even a new sense of identity. And that can feel scary — like you’re betraying your family. You are not betraying anyone. You are becoming more fully yourself.

Your family loved the child you were; they can learn to love the adult you are becoming, even through an awkward transition. Growth and gratitude coexist — you can love your family while choosing a different path for yourself.

You don’t have to announce every change. Some things can just happen quietly.

Final thoughts

Here’s the thing about being a first-gen student from an immigrant family: you’re doing something new, and you’re mostly doing it alone. Not because your family doesn’t care — they do. But because language barriers and different worlds mean they can’t always help the way they wish they could.

That’s incredible. And it’s also really hard.

You’re allowed to struggle. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to build success that actually fits you — not the dream your parents pictured, not the debt you thought you owed.

Just the version where you grow, survive, and maybe even thrive.

And that would make your family proud — not because you were perfect, but because you kept going.