I didn’t want to walk across the stage for graduation. I didn’t want to traverse the makeshift stage the university would’ve cobbled together on the Quad. I didn’t want to navigate my divorced family coming together for what would only be a hectic weekend.

In my head, it was a formality. The diploma and four years of memories would be enough to commemorate my time at Syracuse. When I brought this plan to my parents, they understandably shot it down. My grandma then reminded me of something I was told, but never processed in its totality.

I will be the first member of my family to graduate from an American university.

After our talk, I actually looked forward to graduation. My family would get to see the culmination of their hard work. Instead, May 10 will be just another day in lockdown, one of the many body blows delivered by COVID-19.

Being a first-gen college graduate was never a part of my identity, but it is now. So this column is for my family, their stories and their sacrifices.

Abuelita Moncha, my great-grandmother, routinely asked me about college. She always broke it into two syllables, “col-lege.” She grew up with seven siblings, eventually dropping out of school in fifth grade to help her widowed mother.

Abuelita taught herself math and electrician skills, rigging household appliances throughout her adult life. She died before I started high school, but that word — “col-lege” — always stuck with me.

My grandma Millie grew up in the 1950s. In high school, she learned shorthand and her advisers never mentioned the prospect of college. “I guess they figured they’d prepare us for secretarial work and that’s it,” she said.

Millie and her husband Antonio moved from Puerto Rico with my mom and uncle to Union City, New Jersey. Antonio was a Spanish priest and a math aficionado who became a teacher after leaving the clergy. He went on to produce projections for local political campaigns. Millie was a court director and when he died she earned her real estate license.

My grandma remains a stalwart in our hometown, known for her cooking, hospitality and work with the local parish. She taught me maturity and the importance of family. It’s because of her that I’m writing this.

Rocio Villarreal, my mom, has worked since she was 14 years old. She started in a Burger King and as a teenager was hired as a teacher’s aid. Mrs. Menendez, one of her high school teachers, stressed the importance of higher education. For two years, my mom attended a community college, but her class schedule interfered with her work hours. Rocio kept working, she still is. 

In the last few years, she’s been elected as a high-ranking member of the Union City Education Association. She has helped me through countless late-night projects and always told me to keep going, even when the situation seemed most-dire. My mom is a do-it-all problem solver in the largest high school in the most densely populated city in the country.

My dad, Lazaro Alvarez, describes his path as the “hard way.” In his junior year of high school, he enrolled in the National Guard. He served as a paramedic, earning his high school diploma before returning home. After scoring a 98.7% on his civil service exam, he became a police officer in Union City.

When I was a toddler, he started a college fund for me. He always made sure I had a book in my hands and doubled whatever my school reading assignments were. My dad motivated me to start a sports blog and eventually apply to Syracuse.

I received my Newhouse acceptance letter and immediately called my mom. I still remember hearing her break down in tears over the phone. I still remember hearing the emotion in my dad’s voice when he said how proud he was.

Generations of Alvarezes and Villarreals led me here. I tell their stories because they deserve to be a part of the paper that taught me storytelling.

To those mentioned here and to those who aren’t: I’ll never be able to thank you enough. I love you all. My degree is your accomplishment as much as it is mine.

Nick Alvarez was a senior staff writer for The Daily Orange, where his column will no longer appear. He can be reached at [email protected] or on Twitter @nick_a_alvarez.

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Published on April 26, 2020 at 12:19 am