During a Zoom call, a professor told me: “You’re from a community college; you’re used to operating at a lower standard, and you’re used to things sliding. But this is a university. Students from your background struggle with that.”
What the hell did she just say?
It was my third month at Rider University after transferring from Mercer in May 2025, and I was relishing every second in this new environment. Sure, the schedule, pacing, and workload at a four-year school vastly contrasted what I was used to, but it was nothing I couldn’t adapt to.
That month, I missed a week of classes due to a monster of a sinus infection. Most of my professors were understanding and cooperative about my predicament. Unfortunately, there’s always that one instructor.
I got her to call me so she could review the work I accomplished while bed-bound, but she was not impressed. She looked straight into the virtual camera, and delivered that piercing line.
My default setting is bubbly and sweet, but when disrespected, I’m sharp-tongued and quick to argue. At that moment, however, I froze at the audacity of her statement. Her words reverberated in my mind.
“Used to operating at a lower standard.”
I came to Mercer when I was 20 years old, after a severe concussion at 17 left me with years of chronic migraines, brain fog, and insomnia. I finally recovered enough to do part-time classes for four years, graduating at 23.
I walked across that stage in the Mercer signature green cap and gown, with four cords, two medals, a stole, and a 3.8 GPA, plus two asterisks next to my name on the bulletin, signifying “High Honors.”
“Lower standard,” who?
“Used to things sliding.”
After completing my Gen-Eds, my major became Physical Therapy, but I quickly realized it wasn’t for me. I almost wanted to drop out of Mercer entirely, until my mom stepped in and suggested I do Communications—go back to my writing roots, and my childhood dream of becoming a writer. With her encouragement, I joined the staff of The College VOICE.
The thing I loved most about the newsroom, other than the all-you-can-eat-Reese’s-Cups, was that we worked as a unit. When one of us dropped the ball—with a deadline, an interview, a piece that needed to be edited—we’d hoist each other up.
Accountability based on love was the gasoline in the car of that publication. I forged some of my closest friendships while we were being paid to be pushed out of our comfort zones.
I rose through the ranks, becoming the Editor-in-Chief my last semester. We won several state and national accolades under my leadership.
My chronic migraines came back with a vengeance that same semester. But I learned to communicate my needs honestly, how to lead a team fervently, and when it was time to push through, or step back.
With my achievements, I was offered a hefty scholarship to Rider University, which became a full ride when it was combined with grants.
“ Letting things slide,” who?
“But this is a university. Students from your background struggle with that.”
At Mercer, I made several treasured friends, with different motivations. One friend of mine was in her 30s, a recovering addict with two little kids at home. She came to Mercer to regain the belief in herself that post-partum depression had stolen from her. She graduated confident and sober, with Highest Honors.
Another friend of mine was 17 years old, a bright high school student wanting to be challenged academically, and decided to take college-level courses at Mercer. He is now a freshman at an Ivy League university.
Yet another friend of mine was the same age as me when he started at Mercer. He simply took a longer time to find his passion after high school, and what he wanted to do in life. Once he honed in on it, he went full-force on the pedal. We walked across the graduation stage together, with him having a 4.0 GPA baked into his degree.
These three friends? My fellow editors at the newspaper.
Students in community college know struggle, and because of that, we know hard work and success on a deeper level than many students who have only attended a four-year university can say.
To any professors at 4-year universities: several of your students come from community colleges. Don’t let stereotypes of where they started define how you evaluate their performance. Transitioning from being a big fish in a small pond to a small fish in a big one is not easy. But it does not diminish the value of what they have already achieved, or the rigorous work they put in to do it.
“You’re from a community college—” I am from a community college, and that’s exactly why I’m here.
