By Heather Jimenez, Assistant Professor of Public Health and Health Science

My family’s story is one of survival and perseverance. My grandmother was dropped off at an orphanage, left to navigate childhood without the anchor of family. My grandfather forged his age to enroll in the Navy, desperate to escape a traumatic childhood that offered him no safe harbor. These were the foundations upon which my family was built; not privilege or opportunity, but sheer determination to survive.

My mother inherited this resilience. At just fifteen years old, she began working as a dietary aide at Waterbury Hospital. For the next thirty-one years, she would pour herself into that institution, working her way through various positions, often pulling double shifts to keep food on the table and a roof above our heads. She worked so hard to provide me with a good life, though it came at a cost neither of us wanted: her absence. While other kids had their parents at school events and dinner tables, my mom was away working diligently to support us financially.

Growing up, I understood one thing with clarity: I needed to do something different. The cycle of struggle that had gripped my grandmother, my grandfather, and my mother couldn’t continue with me. That’s when college entered my mind, not as a dream, but as a necessity.

But wanting something and knowing how to achieve it are vastly different things. I remember being driven to the home of my mother’s friend, whose daughters had gone to college, because my mother didn’t know how to fill out a FAFSA form. I remember taking out 100% of my tuition in student loans, signing papers that would bind me to debt, and I am still paying off today. There I was, navigating entirely uncharted waters, with no map and no guide.

My freshman year was a test. The adjustment to college overwhelmed me while I juggled work and commuted back and forth from campus to home, when my chronically ill mother would end up in the hospital. I was trying to be a student, a caretaker, and support myself all at once. At the end of my first semester, I was placed on academic probation. I stood at a crossroads that felt more like an ending point. Was college really for me? Was I foolish to think I could be the one to break the cycle?

But then, two members of the university saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself. They believed in me when I was questioning whether I believed in myself. They refused to let me give up. Those two people provided the faith and determination I desperately needed to persevere through the next three and a half years of my undergraduate journey.

Not only did I complete my bachelor’s degree, but I also went on to earn my master’s degree. Today, I’m a doctoral student at University of Bridgeport, pursuing a doctorate in health sciences, and I serve as an assistant professor in the Public Health and Health Science programs at Goodwin University.

Being a first-generation college student transformed me. It showed me that cycles can be broken, that one person’s determination can change the trajectory of an entire family line. Now, I’ve dedicated my career to being there for others the way those two people were for me, and as a symbol of hope that says, “You belong here, and I won’t let you quit.”

I work to provide current and future first-generation college students with the tools, education, and skills they need to become cycle-breakers just like me. Because I know what it feels like to sit in that room, confused and not have a family member to ask about their college experiences. I know what it’s like to wonder if the sacrifice is worth it.

And let me just tell you… IT IS!