Unwilling To Hide: How College Campuses Make Student Parents Feel Invisible
I first heard about teen pregnancy when my sisters were watching “16 and Pregnant,” and I remember thinking, “How they could be so dumb?” The girls were always portrayed as substance abusers, wild children, and high school dropouts from broken homes. They were nothing like me, I thought, and I would never in a million years be in high school and pregnant. No way. But there I was, a few years later, in my junior year in high school, with a positive pregnancy test. My heart was going a hundred miles per hour, and I couldn’t think straight. I just kept thinking, “This isn’t happening. This isn’t me. I don’t go to parties, I don't drink, my parents are Christian, I am a Christian, I get straight A's, I don't get into trouble, and I’m first to arrive at Sunday School.” I was supposed to be immune to this, right? But I wasn’t, and boy could I feel the disappointment from everyone. I was exactly 16, expecting a baby.
I first heard about Generation Hope through a workshop at school during my senior year of high school. I didn’t expect much. I was honestly just excited at the prospect of someone paying attention to teen parents. I remember a teacher asking me if I was sure I wanted to go to a workshop that singled out young parents, as if I should cover it up or even ignore it. This was one of many comments I would receive throughout the years, urging me to hide the fact that I was a mother. But I applied to Generation Hope’s Scholar Program anyway, not thinking much of it. It was just another one of millions of scholarships I had applied to, hoping they would help make a small dent in the huge debt I was about to get myself into to go to college. When I got accepted I was completely shocked by the intense support I received from this program, the hope they offered, the acceptance and confidence they gave me. It changed the game for me and my daughter.
After graduating high school on time and with honors, I was faced with the decision of what to do next: Go to community college or straight into a university? With the information presented to me, I eventually decided it was best for me and my daughter to stay close to home, even though many people told me that community college wasn’t “good enough.” I enrolled in Northern Virginia Community College (NVCC), and soon I felt completely and utterly alone. I wasn’t a regular student. I had a baby at home. I was working long nights, going to school early in the morning, and trying to soak in every free minute with my daughter. I underestimated navigating college, work, and raising my daughter. Homework was extensive, and the work sometimes felt like busy work, so time consuming. The professors were strict and not very forgiving.
Most days, I couldn’t even enjoy being on campus. Everyone else seemed so relaxed, and nobody else had to worry about the things I did. As a commuting student, I was always calculating how long it was gonna take to get to campus and to class. I couldn’t afford a parking pass, so I had to walk well over a mile to get to my classes. With every class being three hours long, it was hard to focus and not think about how much the babysitter was gonna cost each week. Most nights my daughter was asleep by the time I got home because I could only take the courses in the early evening or early morning because I had to go to work. For over a year, I was also working the graveyard shift, which meant I barely saw her. I always felt so guilty. Professors would sometimes keep us for extra time after class and every minute I stayed was another minute my daughter had to stay in daycare, another second I lost in my already busy and unpredictable schedule. I had a million things on my mind, more than just the hyperbole or the allusion in the books I was reading for class. Soon it became even more difficult as I had my second child in the midst of a pandemic, the stress of COVID, handling virtual classes for myself and my oldest daughter, and a newborn were all new challanges that I had to face.
Like many parenting students, I was constantly reminded of the many obstacles I would face, but never once presented with options, different possibilities, or support. I remember meeting with one of my advisors and letting them know that I had a child, and I could see on his face that he had no idea what to say to me. He just nodded and then advised me against taking over two courses at a time because he didn’t think I would be able to manage it. I didn’t listen, and I got straight A’s that semester. But experiences like that made me stop even sharing that I had children. Asking for help made me feel like a failure. Not only was I struggling with carrying the stigma that comes with being a teen mom, but I was one of the first in my family to go to college. I had to navigate everything from the FAFSA to school loans, and I remember not knowing which questions to even ask because there was so much I didn’t understand. And that in itself made me so angry because I couldn’t articulate how best I could be supported. I remember so many experiences where I felt singled out, shamed, and completely isolated. Asking for help became difficult because I would be reminded of how I got myself pregnant, so I should handle my problems on my own.
Even with all of this, I am so ready to give my all in order to get my degree and to create a better future for my kids. To prove to everyone that I am more than capable, that I am more than just “16 and Pregnant.”.I am not looking for a free pass through college or even less work toward my degree. What I need is for higher ed leaders, faculty, and staff to acknowledge my existence as a student parent. I am not like other students. I don’t live on campus. My parents cannot pay for my classes. Books and diapers are always on my mind. I don't want to turn things down at the last minute, but sometimes the last minute is all I have left. Please know when you assign work that I have a job, three children at home, and I juggle so many things in my mind and in my life. Each day I’m working on myself, too. I’m becoming more confident in asking for help, being vocal about my situation, and giving myself grace while letting my presence be known.
Karen Escobar is a Scholar at Generation Hope. She earned an associate’s degree in 2019 from Northern Virginia Community College (NVCC) and is currently a senior at George Mason University.
