Against the Professorial Odds: Barriers as Building Blocks for Educational Advancement

Abstract

This article describes three female professors’ experiences to attain degrees (bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate) as first-generation college students (FGCS) and become academics. Their individual stories are shared through narratives, which capture crucial episodes of overcoming challenges. Because completion of a terminal degree by FGCS (of the Baby Boomer generation) is statistically low, these professors are outliers to the norm. Discussion identifies factors that aided the educators in their educational advancement.

Keywords

first generation terminal degrees cultural capital SES human agency

Introduction

Personal backgrounds and experiences influence individual paths taken in life. Although multiple factors (i.e., socioeconomics, cognitive ability, interest, cultural background, motivation, and others) appreciably sway selected and pursued occupations and career goals, one’s education is significantly meaningful in how professional progress unfolds. Research indicates that socioeconomic status (SES), which includes financial background (Conley, 2001; Titus, 2006; Walpole, 2003) as well as parental educational achievement (National Center for Education Statistics [NCES], 2003; Nunez & Cuccaro-Alamin, 1998; Radunzel, 2018), particularly affects first-generation college students’ (FGCS) attendance and degree completion.

Countless interrelated reasons impact challenges that FGCS face in completing degrees, such as access, finances, cultural and familial backgrounds, type of institution attended, gender, self-efficacy, motivation, and persistence (Wilbur & Roscigno, 2016). In addition, many research studies report that FGCS are in the lowest percentage of college completers (Paulsen & St John, 2002; Riehl, 1994; Terenzini et al., 2001). A low percentage of FGCS as college completers continues exponentially in graduate work (Torche, 2011), where FGCS recipients of doctorate degrees are disproportionately lower (Cataldi et al., 2018; Hoffer et al., 2002; Kniffin, 2007; Oh & Kim, 2019; Redford & Hoyer, 2017). This article explores how three professors, all FGCS with doctorate degrees in education, overcame challenges to become academics, where individual barriers paradoxically served as building blocks to educational advancement.

Origin of the Study

Waiting for a return flight after an out-of-state research worksite visit, this study started with an informal conversation between two collaborating researchers and institutional colleagues (Denise and Sheila). In discussion, the topic emerged of both being FGCS (in fact, neither set of their parents had even graduated from high school). During the conversation, Denise shared research she had read in the mid-1990s, as a doctoral student, that less than 1% of terminal degree recipients were FGCS. This “remembered” statistic placed both as significant outliers to the norm for individuals acquiring doctorates. Shared dialogue continued with ongoing queries how their experiential challenges, lack of finances, and perhaps personal characteristics influenced and shaped their academic successes against such daunting odds. Intrigued, Sheila suggested that this was a potential study to pursue. In other writings (i.e., auto-fictitious stories and a brief narrative within an article), Denise expressed how coming from a lower SES working class posed difficulty in acquiring college degrees and ultimately an academic position (see McDonald, 2016, in press-a, in press-b; McDonald & Farrell, 2012). She shared these writings with Sheila, who then wrote her own initial story. At this point, narrative as methodology was chosen as the best means for exploring storied experiences. Another colleague from the same university and college, Debby, was invited to contribute her own story to this study. Initially, she did not feel that her experience as an FGCS fit with how her colleagues’ stories had unfolded. Debby was reassured that her story was rich with insight and highly complementary to discussion of educational constraints (i.e., gender inequities, self-views, and others). Her story aligned with the process of this study, which involved unearthing and critically examining differences in experiences as first-generation college females regarding acquisition of terminal degrees and positions in higher education. In addition, all three researchers were born in the Baby Boomer generation (1946–1964)—an era that potentially placed additional limitations on access to a college education. Collectively, their experiences served as fertile ground for a study of personal factors, which impacted acquisition of doctoral degrees and academic posts. In a short period of time, unexpected commonalities emerged in the shared stories from three unique individual experiences; therefore, discovery of these commonalities led to conjecture of a likely parallel with other FGCS’ academic pursuits (including those of more recent generations). Moreover, understanding how FGCS overcome challenges to attain terminal degrees provided the main purpose for this study as there is limited qualitative research on the issue.

Subsequent sections of this article include the following: a comprehensive literature review; discussion of methodology; the authors’ stories in four sections (each section followed by discussion of themes); discussion of levels of intersectionality, issues of power, privilege, and oppression of social identity; professional implications; identified limitations; ideas for future research studies; and concluding discussion.

Literature Review

Of note, the authors acknowledge intentional inclusion of research studies conducted from their secondary and post-secondary schooling era (1970s–1980s; Peng, 1977), as these studies’ findings parallel constraining experiences as FGCS and best reflect challenges they faced that may differ from current FGCS. Many of these studies from the 1970s to the 1980s are seminal pieces but may not reflect how access and support for FGCS have increased over the past 50 years (Perna, 2015), although social stratification of enrollees in graduate studies continues and is evident today (Gerber & Cheung, 2008; Lucas, 2009; Posselt & Grodsky, 2017).

Barriers to College Attendance and Completion for FGCS

Education, viewed as a vehicle for social and economic advancement, is most significantly impacted by familial (Contreras, 2011; Dennis et al., 2005; Witteveen & Attewell, 2017) and cultural backgrounds (Gloria et al., 2005). Historically, a college education is considered an equalizer for individuals from lower SES upbringings and disadvantaged backgrounds where degrees provide opportunities to raise one’s social status and economic station in life. However, systematic exclusion shaped by classist and elitist norms greatly affects disadvantaged youths from lower SES backgrounds, their worldviews, and values (Stuber, 2011), ultimately experiencing fewer opportunities (Bloome et al., 2018; Breen & Jonsson, 2005; London, 1989) and less access to higher education (Baker & Vélez, 1996; Peng et al., 1977; Thomas et al., 1979). In addition, many of these marginalized students, through normative exclusion, may not possess skills which support college readiness (i.e., academic or social; Byrd & McDonald, 2005; Conley, 2007) or experiential knowledge on how to seek and utilize academic support within university settings (Lareau, 2011; Weuffen et al., 2018). Therefore, FGCS often possess insufficient cultural capital (i.e., possibly incongruent to the dominant culture of an institution) to support their college efforts (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977; Coleman, 1988; Stuber, 2009, 2011). Cultural capital is comprised of an individual’s dispositions, knowledge, skills, and intellectual proficiency gained through education, which influence benefits in acquiring social status (Bourdieu, 1986). Furthermore, although a pattern of access for FGCS has increased over recent years, many of these students possess non-traditional traits, such as they are generally older than typical college students (i.e., late-entry college attendance; Offerman, 2011), take longer to complete degrees (Zarifa et al., 2018), and work while attending college (Astin & Oseguera, 2004; Mendoza, 2012).

More importantly, perhaps, a lack of financial support for low SES students not only diminishes access and completion of a degree (Stampen & Cabrera, 1988) but often places FGCS in immediate financial straits or long-term debt (Houle, 2013; Iwai & Churchill, 1982). Furthermore, parents from marginalized backgrounds often possess limited experiential knowledge for assisting their children in applying for college, scholarships, and financial loans (Covarrubias & Johnson, 2020; McCarron & Inkelas, 2006; Unverferth et al., 2012). So, familial background potentially adds limitations to FGCS’ access to and attendance in college (Perna, 2015; Strage, 1999) and commonly results in higher attrition rates than traditional peers (Cataldi et al., 2018).

Another factor that impacts FGCS’ college retention and completion involves college choice, which is generally based on convenience of location and commuting (Garza & Fullerton, 2018) rather than institutional selection (Davies & Guppy, 1997), especially for those who must live at home due to lack of finances. Moreover, the type of institution attended (i.e., 2-year, 4-year, public, private, minority-serving, non-profit, or for-profit) can impact challenges on retention (Pascarella et al., 2003), which are grounded in students’ perceptions of fit within the institution (Gloria et al., 2005; Lubrano, 2003; Palardy, 2013), readiness for college experience (DeAngelo & Franke, 2016), structural and social integration issues (Billson & Terry, 1982; Veldman et al., 2019), sense of belonging (Morrow & Ackermann, 2012; O’Keeffe, 2013), cultural displacement (Próspero et al., 2012), and other formidable barriers (Engle & Tinto, 2008; Pascarella & Chapman, 1983; Pratt et al., 2019). These factors all reinforce how classist and elitist norms insidiously play a part in excluding lower SES students from opportunities to educationally advance.

Conventionally, gender has impacted access to higher education as well where based on societal norms before the 1970s, females were not traditionally encouraged to attain a college degree (Reynolds & Burge, 2008). In the era in which the authors of this work matriculated from high school (i.e., mid-1970s to early-1980s), little social expectation or support prevailed regarding women attending college (Stage & Hossler, 1989). In recent decades, an equalizing effect has occurred where a higher percentage of women attend and complete college than their male peers (Buchman & DiPrete, 2006; Flashman, 2013; Goldin et al., 2006). However, gender continues to impact female FGCS, most notably for those with male siblings (older or younger) whose parents with limited finances may prioritize their sons attending college over their daughters (Hamilton, 2016; Mare & Maralani, 2006; Pascarella & Terenzini, 1980).

One of the most significant barriers to college attendance and completion for some FGCS is an individual’s own diminished perception of competency or sense of efficacy (Chemers et al., 2001; Lent et al., 1984; Zimmerman et al., 1992). Perceptions of inadequacy are often socially shaped and keenly heightened in FGCS (Ramos-Sánchez & Nichols, 2007; Tate et al., 2015; Wang & Castaneda-Sound, 2008). Commonly, disadvantaged lower SES students possess blue-collar perspectives which are tacitly carried forward and place a significant impact on perceptions of identity, fitting in, and advancing into higher life stations such as attending college (London, 1992; Lubrano, 2003). In addition, self-imposed critique and doubt are often socially or culturally ascribed for FGCS where even if one believes they are cognitively capable of attending college, they may not feel adequate based on cultural backgrounds or lower SES (Lara, 1992; Lippincott & German, 2007; Mallman, 2017). Finally, individuals’ educational expectations are often hampered by unseen social forces that plague their persistence in attending college, thus resulting in high attrition (Billson & Terry, 1982; Ishitani, 2006; Martinez et al., 2009).

Bourdieu—Cultural Capital

According to Bourdieu (1986),

The notion of cultural capital initially presented itself to me, in the course of research, as a theoretical hypothesis which made it possible to explain the unequal scholastic achievement of children originating from the different social classes by relating academic success, i.e., specific profits which children from the different classes and class fractions can obtain in the academic market, to the distribution of cultural capital between the classes and class fractions. (p. 17)

Bourdieu, himself an FGCS, provides theoretical insight to culturally, economically, and socially disadvantaged individuals regarding hardships and barriers faced in acquiring educational goals. Therefore, discussion of FGCS’ challenges to attend and complete college would be remiss without a brief overview of theoretical constructs outlined in Bourdieu’s sociology of education, in which he describes how power dynamics in society are transferred and retained by privileged social groups.

Bourdieu (1986) describes different types of capital, including social, economic, symbolic, and cultural, which represent valued resources and forms of power in society. Social capital involves one’s aggregated resources through societal networks, family, acquaintances, and connections exemplified through status, class, or titles. Economic capital is signified through accumulated material possessions such as money and property. Symbolic capital is represented through individual prestige, authority, and even charisma (Bourdieu, 1985). Cultural capital can be comprised of both inherited and acquired properties, albeit mostly the former. It is denoted through individuals’ knowledge, skills, and educational credentials, and includes language differences such as dialect, accent, grammar, and style. Language use is often indicative of social rankings as embodied cultural capital (one of three forms of cultural capital—embodied, objectified, and institutionalized). The embodied state involves “long-lasting dispositions of the mind and body” (Bourdieu, 1986, p. 17) accumulated consciously through knowledge acquisition and passively bred through cultural socialization. The objectified state of cultural capital is conveyed through cultural goods, material objects, and property (e.g., books, media, machines, and instruments). The institutionalized state of cultural capital involves institutional recognition of an individual’s cultural capital, such as college degrees and other academic or professional credentials awarded.

Cultural capital (i.e., knowledge, skills, and behaviors transmitted within sociocultural settings) reflects and influences individual habitus (i.e., one’s way of thinking, capacities, how one acts, values, daily social practices, and dispositions). Habitus is developed through socialization and “a power of adaptation” over time within multiple fields (Bourdieu, 1993, p. 88). According to Bourdieu, a field is a structured social space (any non-homogeneous setting) in which individuals pursue and struggle for resources/capital (fields vary and can include religion, education, law, art, sports, etc.). One of the most dominant hierarchically formed fields is social class. Educational environments such as public schools and higher education institutions serve as one type of field in which a learner’s habitus interacts and is formed. Bourdieu proffered that dominate social groups legitimize their own values through educational systems (i.e., the structure and formality of educational agencies). These undisputed values become deeply rooted as cultural capital and persist through an inculcation process imposed on learners in formal education structures and systems. Individuals born in a privileged elite social class have an inherent advantage in possessing cultural capital through their social position based on economic capital. Those from lower social classes and status, who do not possess equitable forms of resources, must struggle to gain social mobility through individual agency, effort, and fraught attempts to fit in with established formal schooling values and acquire “academic language” used by dominant groups, which may be incongruent with their own (Snow, 2010). Higher education is one field for individuals to procure institutional cultural capital. Unfortunately, all educational fields, as social systems, are prone to replicating distribution of power and sustaining social structure and inequities; therefore, existing power groups are seamlessly maintained within society (Magee & Galinsky, 2008).

All societal members seek to increase their resources and maximize capital growth. Ironically, learners from subordinate social classes who seek cultural capital (representative of the dominant group) and have been systematically excluded from access to higher education, knowingly or unknowingly, advocate its value, which “contributes towards reproducing the power relations” within society (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977, p. 31). The power of dominant groups is perpetuated through this cyclical process, which maintains inequities. However, individual learner characteristics and traits can overcome systemic oppression and advance social mobility as well as capital gains through college completion, thereby validating their institutional cultural capital.

Building Blocks for College Completion of FGCS

Low self-efficacy, for any college candidate, can impede college attendance and completion as efficacy beliefs are influential in how one is motivated. Specifically, academic self-efficacy, which is one’s perception of their ability to attain educational goals and challenges (Bandura, 1977, 2000), is a notable factor for FGCS who may experience negatively internalized concomitant factors (described previously), which potentially tamp down academic efforts (White & Perrone-McGovern, 2017). In general, highly efficacious individuals are more likely to persist through challenges (Lohfink & Paulsen, 2005; Stieha, 2010), present qualities such as motivation (Irlbeck et al., 2014; Zimmerman et al., 1992), demonstrate grit and hardiness through pursuit of difficult or taxing goals (Duckworth et al., 2007; Martinsuo & Turkulainen, 2011), apply effective coping strategies (Tate et al., 2015), exhibit diligence and persistence to work over longer periods of time (Chemers et al., 2001; Lent et al., 1984), and possess agency (Burger & Walk, 2016). Some FGCS enter college with high academic efficacy and agency, others with none. Within the spectrum of high to low academic efficacy, some FGCS develop or acquire confidence through college experiences where others find it daunting to hurdle the challenges or barriers faced—their agency thwarted.

Agency, described as one’s capacity for utilizing resources in making life choices, is a personal characteristic related to self-efficacy, coping skills, and optimistic perspectives. One’s human agency potentially assists an individual in overriding disadvantages and positively impacting achievement through educational performance (Eccles, 2008). According to Bandura (2006), human agency is comprised of four core properties, including intentionality (create and follow strategic action plans), forethought (visualize and set purposeful goals for probable outcomes), self-reactiveness (construct self-regulatory actions), and self-reflectiveness (engage in metacognition of one’s capabilities as well as meaningfulness and prudency of actions taken). Therefore, FGCS’ personal agency plays a significant role in furthering academic achievement.

In addition to agency, according to multiple studies, motivational factors significantly affect FGCS’ quest and completion of college (Blackwell & Pinder, 2014; Dennis et al., 2005; Próspero et al., 2012). Desire and inherent motivational qualities facilitate marginalized individuals’ persistence toward academic goals (Morrow & Ackermann, 2012; Olive, 2010). These factors are linked to and demonstrate hardy dispositions and grit. Moreover, those who possess hardiness are individuals who effectively buffer stressors, actively engage in problem-solving efforts rather than emotionally focused forms of coping, and present optimistic perceptions of challenges (Kobasa & Puccetti, 1983; Westman, 1990). Hardiness is related to dimensions of commitment (i.e., meaningful engagement, sense of purpose, and self-awareness), control (i.e., locus of control for choices and decision making), and challenge (i.e., unexpected life changes perceived as opportunities for growth) (Kobasa, 1979). As a personality characteristic and attitude, hardiness is a moderating influence on negative life experiences and is attributed to psychological resilience (Crowley et al., 2003). In a study by Maddi et al. (2012) regarding college performance of undergraduates, hardiness was found to be positively related to students’ grade point averages.

According to Ma and Shea (2019), “the higher level of barriers FGCS [first-generation college students] perceive, the more likely they would have negative career outcome expectations” (p. 8). As noted in the literature discussion, those barriers are extensive. However, collectively, personal human agency comprised of internal characteristics, including high self-efficacy, motivation and desire, hardiness and grit, coping strategies, diligence, persistence, agency, commitment, resilience, and optimism all support otherwise socially ascribed socioeconomic or culturally disadvantaged FGCS in achieving academic goals. In addition to human agency, positive influences of social networks that externally support first-generation students are comprised of familial, friend, and peer support (Ma & Shea, 2019). Our work, through experiential stories, will describe and critically examine how FGCS (women from the Baby Boomer generation) overcame barriers and in some ways sourced or ushered in those barriers to serve as building blocks in achieving academic goals of terminal degrees and acquiring positions in higher education. These stories offer insight on how academic outliers, despite significant social barriers and norms, address challenges to be successful.

Autobiographical Narratives Developed Into Duoethnography as Methodology

Autobiographical narrative writing, as life stories (Bruner, 2004; Clandinin & Connelly, 2000; Connelly & Clandinin, 1990), assists individuals in making sense of experiences (Baumeister & Newman, 1994; Polkinghorne, 1988), especially regarding events over time that shape one’s identity (McLean et al., 2007), self-perceptions (McAdams, 1996), and sense of belonging (Costabile et al., 2018; McDonald, 2016). For the authors of this article, our stories provide voice to the unspoken, socially silenced disadvantages we have lived. Furthermore, in writing our stories, we were compelled to critically examine aspects of our cultural capital and human agency, perhaps suppressed by societal refractions that shaped our experiences. The authors acknowledge interpretive use of autobiographical reasoning (see Habermas & Köber, 2015) and that our retrospective narrative accounts of self are biased and privileged.

Prior to this point in the article, third-person point of view was utilized in discussion as it presents an objective voice. There is a switch to first person here and in subsequent sections, most notably our stories. As is typical in narratives, first-person voice is subjective and aligns more authentically in explaining personal processes and sharing stories. In other sections, where research is reported, discussion reverts to third person for a neutral professional tone.

Emerging Duoethnography

Our stories were the starting point. They revealed our “selves” and the cornerstones of our identity. Sharing our stories was a process of knowledge production that resonated with all three of us as authentic, relevant, and valid to our purpose as academics. Through our storied narratives, we internalized the conditions and feelings we faced over time. As a social collaboration, we reached out to each other for existentially understanding our experiences within familial and social environments, most notably others’ points of view and intentions with respect to interactions with others. This process involved storying past and current experiences, as well as sharing expressions of hope for future professional possibilities. Shared stories were deeply examined for situations, tensions, context, time in our lives, affective aspects, important life experiences, and social significance that impacted us (i.e., specific events or individuals that were disruptive or supportive to our academic progress).

Interestingly, although the study was initially framed as three autobiographical narratives, during the research process we discovered that through shared stories, dialogical critiques, ongoing queries, and exchanges, we were pushing each other to question existing beliefs and reexamine life experiences, which are key aspects of duoethnography methodology (Norris et al., 2012; Norris & Sawyer, 2012). This research methodology involves joint or collaborative research with two or more researchers who share their experiences to expose and better understand their unique realities through multi-voiced perspectives (Norris & Sawyer, 2012). Sharing space as inquisitors, we each operated as researcher, participant, and confidential collaborator. We conducted this research process through multiple iterations of critical examination by questioning each other on our experiential perspectives. This process involved self-reflexivity to critically dissect our assumptions, biases, beliefs, and values infused within our life narratives. Our consciousness was raised as we identified connections in our experiences as well as differences. In addition, the critical process of duoethnography lends well to exploration of social justice issues (such as oppression) that some FGCS experience (Norris & Sawyer, 2012). Our shared stories were alternative versions to the dominant narratives with which we were familiar our entire lives; therefore, we were meaningfully constructing counternarratives of resistance to the norms experienced. The methodology organically emerged as conceptually aligned with our research inquiry, purpose, and dialogic processes employed. Through duoethnography, we were seeking to construct self-meanings of our educational experiences (regressive view of the past) through an interpretive process to better understand how we became situated as academics.

One tenant of duoethnography is that researchers must trust each other. Beyond being colleagues who shared educational ideologies and values, we were friends. We were Critical Friends as well, eager to learn from and with each other (see Costa & Kallick, 1993). Beyond a research methodology, duoethnography served as a cathartic and insightful learning process, where pushing ourselves outside of our comfort zones, we understood each other better and understood ourselves more deeply (albeit this process was more easily managed emotionally among three close colleagues and friends). Through this analytical process that generated critical tensions, we examined our experiences from varied perspectives. The purpose of our study was to explore our experiences to yield meaningful learning for future actions (i.e., for ourselves and others).

Our historical experiences led to three overarching research questions with supportive secondary questions that loosely framed our stories:

Research Question 1: What challenges did we experience as FGCS?

Research Question 1a: How did this impact our identities as college students?

Research Question 2: What strategies did we implement to address challenges during our college experiences?

Research Question 2a: Which strategies were successful, and how so?

Research Question 2b: Which strategies were ineffective, and how so?

Research Question 3: What factors account for our successes in achieving terminal degrees?

Research Question 3a: What were some personal, internal sources of achievement?

Research Question 3b: What were some opportunities offered through external sources of support?

Research Question 3c: How did mentors or advocates of our professional goals (intentionally or unintentionally) influence or shape our college experiences?

The goal of the study was to expand our understanding as FGCS, share what we learned, and utilize the insights gained for enacting social change in educational settings.

Data Sources and Collection

During the research process, we shared stories, added to them, questioned each other for specific details, rewrote and streamlined different sections, and read extensive research rooted in FGCS studies. Our collaborative work involved a storying and restorying process as it captured our desire to tell our stories, relate to each other, discover (accept, discover, etc.) our differences, and reflect on our decisive experiences, actions taken, and ongoing queries of life as a learner and academic (see Clandinin & Connelly, 2000).

Our stories served as the primary field texts data source (see Clandinin & Connelly, 2000) for exploring problems we faced, the context in which we experienced challenges, actions taken, as well as failures and successes along the way. During meetings to discuss our stories and research on the topic (the meetings and meeting notes served as a secondary data source), our stories were restoried by placing them in similar chronological order with respect to significant events or predicaments (i.e., initial college experience, teaching experiences, doctoral studies, and higher education positions) that served as broad constructs for organizing our discussion and identifying themes during analysis. Insights gained through this restorying process were interwoven into discussion of our stories. In addition, other exchanges were conducted over the phone and via email, where phone notes and email messages served as peripheral data sources.

Data Analysis

Data analysis occurred during, after, and at times while our stories were shared. It was an ongoing interpretive, reflexive process as we listened to and critically questioned each other (Sawyer & Norris, 2013). Unexpectedly, this process also helped us organize our stories in sections and create a table to summarize experiential content (see Table 1).

Table 1.

Background Information of Authors as FGCS.

Background information	Denise	Sheila	Debby
Cultural background/race	Mother—French Canadian immigrant, White Father—First-generation American (East European roots), White	Mother—European heritage, White Father—European heritage, White	Mother—European heritage, White Father—European heritage, White
Language spoken at home	Broken and non-standard English, and non-standard French	Standard English	Standard English
Parents’ education level	Mother—Seventh grade Father—Eighth grade	Mother—Ninth grade (at 13 years old) Father—Fourth grade	Mother—High school Father—Attained GED as adult
Parents’ occupation/SES	Mother—Waitress, janitor Father—Retired military, janitor Low SES working class	Mother—Blue collar, retail Father—Blue collar laborer Low SES working class	Mother—Secretary, school lunchroom manager Father—Retired military, bus driver Middle SES working class
HS track (year of graduation)	College preparation with advanced classes (1976)	Standard and advanced classes (1974)	Standard with advanced classes (1982)
HS extracurricular activities	Sports, drama, school leadership	Chorus	Drama, theater, band, and chorus
HS employment	ninth–12th—Waitress, janitor, clerk	12th—Pharmacy	10th–12th—Retail
Parental expectations to attend college	None	Desired, but not expected or encouraged	Unquestionably expected
Parental financial support post-HS	None	None	Full financial support
Self-interest in college post-HS	Yes	Yes	Absolutely not
Initial action post-HS	Enlisted in the military	Married	Attended college
Motivation for college attendance	Lifelong learning	Economic and goal orientation	None. Went due to parent pressure
Sense of efficacy for college work/completion	Yes—Academically No—Socially (SES)	Somewhat—Academically No—SES	Not initially, occurred over time
Community college experience	Yes (while in military)	One class	No
Part-time or full-time college attendance	Part-time. Transitioned to full-time nearing graduation	Full-time	Full-time
Part-time or full-time employment while in college	Both part-time and full-time (continuously)	Full-time	Part-time
Tuition funded by	G.I. Bill—Bachelor’s & master’s Personal funds—Doctorate	Personal funds—Bachelor’s Grant—Master’s Student loans—Doctorate	Parents
Years after HS, bachelor’s completion	9 years	13 years	5 years—BA Fashion Merchandising 12 years—BS History With Teacher Certification
Years after HS, master’s completion	11 years	35 years	24 years
Years after HS, doctorate completion	24 years	40 years	28 years
Raising children while pursuing degrees	Yes—Bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate	Yes—Bachelor’s	Yes—Master’s and doctorate
Doctoral expertise	EdD, Curriculum and Instruction With Teacher Education and Qualitative Research	PhD, Technology, Teacher Education, and Library Science and Information Studies	EdD, Curriculum and Instruction With Social Sciences and Teacher Education
Reason to enter academia	Apply acquired skills in effective pedagogy (teach teachers) and desire to optimize potential	Apply acquired skills in effective pedagogy (prepare school librarians) and pursue higher goals	Expand self-development and pursue meaningful passions and interests in social education
Current rank and title	Professor (Curriculum & Instruction), Sandra Johnson/Barrios Technology Endowed Professorship	Associate Professor, Program Coordinator of Literacy, Language, and Library Science	Associate Professor, Program Coordinator of Teacher Education

Note. FGCS = first-generation college students; GED = General Educational Development; SES = socioeconomic status; HS = high school.

Initial data analysis involved multiple reads of each section of each story by each researcher. From those reads, open coding was conducted, where broad meaning units were highlighted through phrases or direct quotes that supported emerging themes in a grounded theory, constant comparison manner, and inductive process (Berg, 2009; Gall et al., 2007; Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Strauss & Corbin, 1998). Each researcher shared codes and potential themes with each other. Discussion was conducted to synthesize findings through a consensus process, which involved a form of peer debriefing. Next, a more fine-grained axial coding step was conducted through additional discussion and review of codes from the initial analysis. This step involved collapsing and renaming some codes as well as removing errant codes of little relevance to the phenomenon (Charmaz, 2006; Creswell, 2013; Strauss & Corbin, 1998). Saturated codes resulted in identification of themes and related subthemes. The rigor of reflexivity employed by the researchers’ collaborative inquiry is what demonstrates the trustworthiness of a study. According to Lather (1986), reflexivity “is premised not only on a recognition of the reality-altering impact of the research process itself, but also on the need to consciously channel this impact so that respondents gain self-understanding and, ideally, self-determination through research participation” (p. 67). Reflexivity of our experiences was apparent during analysis by centrally situating ourselves in understanding the FGCS phenomenon.

In a final review, adjustments were made to sharpen alignment and substantiation of themes from the noted data of the researchers’ FGCS storied experiences.

Themes

There were common themes within the stories as well as differences that ran across a continuum for varying reasons. The themes and subthemes are cursorily presented below by the specific sections of the stories, that is, beginning backgrounds, college experiences, attaining doctorates, and building professional presence as academics. More specific explanation of the themes and subthemes is infused within discussion after each section of the shared stories.

Beginning backgrounds

For the first section of stories, beginning backgrounds, themes, and subthemes include hard work, limited choices, and academic efficacy.

College experiences

Themes for the second section of stories, college experiences, are as follows: acting on opportunities and options, hardiness/grit, problem solving (supporting subtheme—agency), feelings of fit/placement, commitment, and influence of others (i.e., positive and negative).

Attaining doctorates

Themes for the third section of stories, attaining doctorates, include the following: new inspired challenges (subthemes—clarified purpose, empowerment), talent recognized, sacrifices, system dynamics of oppression, and coping strategies.

Building professional presence

Themes for the fourth section of stories, building professional presence as academics, are presented as follows: passions and values, and placement politicized in academia.

All themes are noted and more fully explained within discussion after each section of the stories.

Our Autobiographical Narratives

Research studies on FGCS include important individual information of FGCS’ lives, which influence college experiences. Incorporating extensive background information within our stories would greatly expand the narratives and could be distractive to the intention and poignancy of what is shared. As our stories are lengthy (even in the abbreviated form shared in this article), to frame and streamline discussion, a table was created to capture basic background information (see Table 1).

Our stories are presented in four sections, followed by discussion of significant themes or constructs evident in our narratives with citations from related research.

The following autobiographical narratives encapsulate how we braved beginning challenges, overcame barriers to complete college, forged ahead to break down boundaries in developing proficiencies toward earning terminal degrees, and built our professional identities as academics. Each of the four sections is chased by discussion of main points of commonalities or differences (i.e., themes) in experience with supportive citations from related research.

Brave Beginnings

Denise’s mantra, “I love learning and will show others, I can do it!”

My parents grew up in poverty with little opportunity for an education. My father was a first-generation American. My mother immigrated from New Brunswick Canada with limited English skills. Neither had attended nor completed high school. By the time I turned 5 years old, my father retired from the military, settled our family in central Pennsylvania, and promptly took a job as a school janitor. My mother joined him a few years later. Our household was considered lower socioeconomic and I was disparagingly dubbed the janitors’ daughter by teachers and peers. With my parents’ encouragement, at age 12, I began working twice a week selling pizza at a local Bingo venue for tips and free food. Part-time work continued from that point on.

I remember in elementary school being corrected by teachers for my use of non-standard English (e.g., “I ain’t got no”) and quickly learned to adapt to the language expected in school. Being an early and voracious reader helped with acquiring language skills. The first in my family to graduate from high school, I did extremely well in academics (top 5% of my class); however, my parents could not support me in attaining a college education (which I deeply desired). In fact, I never took the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) because my parents would not pay for the test and I did not want to use my own savings if I wasn’t going to college. So, I resigned myself to the fact that college was not the familial norm, especially for an only daughter of parents with three younger sons. However, hard work was modeled and expected. At 18, after high school graduation, I was financially on my own. This was in the mid-1970s, with high inflation and few jobs for inexperienced youths. At the time, the military offered the G.I. Bill where college funds were available for those who served a 4-year commitment. As all my friends and privileged peers headed to college, I enlisted. It was a pragmatic, although strange “outside the norm” choice for a young woman to join the United States Marine Corps (especially one of small physical stature). The situational choice was a “means to an end.” I could now earn a college degree; however, there was delayed gratification (rather than a deferred loan). I always felt smart enough to go to college, but never good enough considering my low SES. I loved learning and college was my distant dream. Time in the military helped me develop a stronger sense of self in addressing perceived shortcomings of my upbringing. I felt compelled to prove myself to society.

Sheila’s mantra, “The more I know, the further I’ll go.”

I come from a family with a low socioeconomic and under-educated background—it was a hard family situation comprised of hardships, hard workers, and hard to break. My mother was extremely smart. Sadly, at 13 years old, she was forced to quit school after the ninth grade to work and help support her family financially. My father also quit school to help his family, but it was much earlier and for him occurred just after completing fourth grade. My parents met at the glass factory where they both worked. They married and soon started a family. When I was a young girl, my maternal grandmother lived with us to help take care of my older brother and me. She taught me many things and touted the mantra, “The more you know, the further you’ll go.” I remember her telling me that I would always be able to take care of myself as long as I had a good education. I was always wanting to do my best to prove I was worthy.

I did well in academics. My teachers recognized my skills and wanted my parents to allow me to be tested for being gifted, but they would not agree. As a young student, I felt smart and confident. I was happy that everyone was pleased with my grades. I would finish my work quickly and as soon as I was finished, I would visit with my neighbors—whether they were finished with their work or not. I got into trouble regularly for talking. In high school, I struggled with conflicting goals of wanting to earn good grades but also wanting to be included in all the fun social events, which, of course, took time away from studying. As a social butterfly, grades were not as important to me, but being liked by everyone was critical. I ended up being just short of a high enough grade point average to receive any scholarships, and my parents could not afford to send me to college. I never received the guidance I needed. I now realize that my parents, not having graduated high school, had not possessed the knowledge to guide me in my academic endeavors. I did, however, hear my grandmother’s mantra in my mind. It ate away at me—leaving me feeling that I had let my grandmother down. Shortly after high school I married, and my dreams for college were diverted and stalled.

Debby’s mantra, “I desired to please my parent.”

I only recently awoke to the fact that I am a first-generation college graduate. This distinction has never been part of my identity. I attribute this to my parents who provided me a life of privilege despite their lack of post-secondary education. They would support me financially after high school graduation only if I went to college. My father had, in no uncertain terms, expressed to me that as long as he was alive, he would fund my education as far as I was willing to go. I was lucky—money would not be an obstacle to achieving my current academic position; it would be my own internal voice that would be my greatest challenge.

The trajectory of my life, post high school, is inseparable from the upbringing of my parents. My parents were both raised on family farms during the depression with abundant love but limited resources to support moving beyond the small agricultural community of their home. As such, a college education was a privilege not afforded to either of them. My smart, Southern mother sought technical training as a secretary. My father quit high school to pursue a professional baseball career. Upon the start of World War II, he volunteered in the military. After the war, my father continued in the military and met my mother who was a secretary for the Veterans administration. They soon married, and within the decade, I was born. Driven to excel in the military, my father earned his General Educational Development (GED) to move up in the ranks. He retired after 36 years of service and returned to civilian life as a city bus driver.

As an only child, I have been deeply aware of the hard work and sacrifices my parents made, affording me opportunities absent from their own childhoods. My mother stayed home with me until I was in sixth grade, at which time she became my school’s lunchroom manager. This placed her front and center with my teachers and the events of my school experiences. She was the foundational force in both my academic and extracurricular endeavors. There was a silent narrative in the house regarding education, in general, and college, more specifically—you work hard and you will go to college. There was no room for questioning this family value. Yet, I did. Academics were not my focus. I did just enough to pass and pursue my true passion—musical theater. I did not want to go to college. I wanted to pursue a career on Broadway; however, my self-efficacy regarding independence and the “reality of the world” (the words of my father) had me frozen in the pursuit of a life on the stage. I knew that I was ill prepared for college and lacked the academic drive. I was lost and terrified. Amid this inner turmoil, my parents were relentless in their pursuit to get me enrolled in college. As an aimless, fearful only child who believed her parents’ hopes lied within her, I stopped resisting and enrolled in a small college close to home. Despite feeling directionless and indifferent, I had to please my parents.

Initial choices and impact

Regarding their backgrounds, all three authors were modeled the value of hard work through their parents. They also had familial history that presented limited choices after high school graduation. Denise and Sheila were on their own with no encouragement, guidance, or financial support from their families to attend college, with few other options. They were pushed by their parents to be autonomous and independent, but familial values did not include pursuing higher education. As non-traditional students who did not attend college full-time right after high school, they began taking college courses later (part-time or full-time) while employed full-time. They experienced what Zarifa et al.’s (2018) report still occurs today—College candidates with low SES backgrounds are generally non-traditional and have difficulty completing degrees within 4 years. With Debby, her parents encouraged and supported her college education. Their schooling values pushed her differently. She was provided no choice other than “you will go to college” and experienced little sense of why she should do so. She had her own tentative sights of what she wanted to do after high school, which from her independent thinking did not necessarily include college. Nevertheless, to honor her parents’ wishes, she reluctantly undertook a traditional track of attending college full-time, living in a dormitory, and completing her degree in a timely fashion.

Denise and Sheila described having academic efficacy for college course work, where Debby initially felt a low sense of academic efficacy. Perceptions of efficacy influence academic goals, self-motivation, achievement (Zimmerman et al., 1992), academic performance, adjustment to college (Chemers et al., 2001; Ramos-Sánchez & Nichols, 2007), and persistence (Lent et al., 1984). For Debby, parental goal setting was more impactful than her low academic efficacy regarding college enrollment (Zimmerman et al., 1992). However, for all three, perceptions of academic efficacy played a part in their desire or lack of desire to pursue college.

Denise’s and Sheila’s lower SES working-class parents did not attend or complete high school, which possibly accounts for non-support of their college aspirations. In addition, both had siblings who were boys. During their generational era, sons were more likely to be supported to attend college than daughters. Their gender mediated their station in life and the lack of access to college funds. Regarding Debby, her mother completed high school and her father earned his GED as an adult. They acquired higher educational levels than the parents of Denise and Sheila. Debby’s parents, although from humble working-class backgrounds, were established as middle class and had more available funds for their only child to attend college. Higher education is often a “non-choice” expectation for middle-class children (Archer et al., 2007). Parental backgrounds and actions explain differences in how families employ cultural capital in society.

Bucking Barriers

Denise’s college experiences

At 19, I started taking college courses part-time at my first military base assignment overseas. These courses were offered as extension classes and required no entry examinations for military personnel. In addition, course fees were nominal and, therefore, affordable. After transferring to California, I quickly applied for state residency since at that time the state provided 2 years of free tuition for residents. In addition, to diminish my future course load toward a degree, I also took College Level Examination Program (CLEP) tests to earn college credit and had my military training in meteorology assessed for credit as well. By the end of my 4-year enlistment, I had completed 36 credit hours of basic college courses (from three different community college institutions) that would be transferable to most degree plans. I had not used any of my G.I. Bill up to this point. My academic interests were loosely aligned in the social sciences, but no definitive field of study was selected. Within a month of separation from the military, I began college as a part-time student at a prestigious university. Socially, I was completely out of my element—felt misplaced, unprepared, undeserving, and oblivious to academic expectations but surprisingly inspired. However, I was also engaged to my fiancé who was 3,000 miles away. A distance relationship was not viable for either of us. We married, I withdrew from the prestigious institution, moved back to California, and soon after we became parents. My college pursuit would be delayed until after my husband’s separation from the military.

When I started my degree, it was part-time but soon evolved into a full-time course load and working part-time at the university. I was not the traditional student. I was older, a veteran, a mother, a wife, and worked while taking classes. In comparison with traditional peers, my experiential knowledge was an advantage. In addition, I possessed strong general academic and mathematical skills. However, my non-standard English upbringing hampered my writing ability. By the second week of my first writing course, the instructor suggested I drop her class and take developmental writing. I asked her to give me a chance to improve my writing skills and I would deliver passable work. I received a B- (a satisfactory passing grade), but was empowered at the end of the semester when the instructor privately shared that she had never seen any student’s writing improve that much in one semester. Improvement continued where my final writing course resulted in an A. Nonetheless, grades did not represent achievement to me, learning did. And although grades were much less impactful on my perception of success than progressing through what I viewed as an elitist system, I proudly earned honors. Upon graduating, I immediately started my master’s degree while beginning my teaching career.

Sheila’s college experiences

I had always wanted to go to college, but believed I had no one in my life who could help me get there. In my late 20s, the local university was offering an associate’s degree in computer science at a local high school within a mile of our home. My father-in-law convinced my husband that I should get this degree. Ever so reluctantly, my husband let me start classes. I loved going to school. I made straight As. I made friends. I regained a tiny bit of my confidence, a tiny bit of happiness, and I felt smart again. I soon came to know that I would continue to get my bachelor’s degree no matter what—for many reasons. First, ever since my grandmother and I played school in the laundry room, I knew I wanted to be a teacher. Second, I knew it was my way out of my abusive marriage. Third, I felt a little bit more like my former self with each passing day. Finally, I could hear my grandmother’s words, “the more you know, the further you’ll go.”

After completing my associate’s degree, I informed my husband that I had registered for classes to begin working on my bachelor’s degree. I knew that would be the beginning of the end of my marriage. I was prepared mentally, and preparing academically, for whatever the future may hold. The next 4 years were a challenge. Even though I was attending classes, I was still expected to have a home-cooked dinner (with dessert) on the table, keep the house cleaned, do the household chores, and take care of our son. I got no help from my husband and was harangued if I faltered in any way in any of these areas. In my early 30s, I came out of that marriage with a bachelor’s degree and teacher certification, having graduated with honors. I knew my grandmother would be proud. I came away knowing I could make new friends and that I had the courage and means to make a new home, without my husband. I also came out of that marriage with no self-esteem or confidence whatsoever. It had been hammered into me that I was not worthy and that was exactly how I felt. I did, however, know that I was on the road to recovery and a better life—certainly a better life than that of my parents.

Debby’s college experiences

I entered college with no plan except to appease my parents. It would be the start of a very aimless journey. Although music and theater were my passion, I rejected the notion of either as an academic major. With no guidance from advisors to the contrary, I declared myself a journalism major. This lasted less than a semester and began a directionless hunt for a major that inspired me to pursue any serious academic engagement. My grades reflected immediate and consistent placement on academic probation. By Christmas of my sophomore year, I had no insight into what degree to pursue and I was psychologically weary from the pressure to find an academic focus while on my parents’ dime. I was done with college.

As a manager of a clothing store, I believed that the service industry was my ultimate destiny. Accordingly, I announced to my parents that I was dropping out of college to pursue becoming a hairstylist. This plan was not well received and I failed to possess the fortitude to disappoint them. As a result, a deal was made. I would take a one-semester break to “get my head together.” My mother suggested I seek a degree linked to my talent in retail management and love of fashion. Hence, I returned to college as a fashion merchandising major. In my final years of course work, a history professor acknowledged my aptitude in the field and suggested I take honor history courses. Sadly, the timing of the validation came too close to my graduation date and would have delayed a planned merchandising internship. I graduated and entered the retail industry, uninspired but with a solid career path.

Dreams realized and enacted

All authors exhibited skills in seeking opportunity and problem solving to complete their undergraduate college education. For Denise and Sheila, the challenges of college were invigorating and motivated them in realizing their dreams of earning a degree (see Próspero & Vohra-Gupta, 2007). Although inspired by other students, Denise initially felt out-of-place in the college setting in comparison with her peers (see Lubrano, 2003), where Sheila thrived and appreciated interactions with other college students. They both demonstrated agency through planning intentional strategies to complete their academic goals (see Bandura, 2006). Denise demonstrated commitment and grit to learn the craft of writing despite her language deficit (Duckworth et al., 2007; Maddi et al., 2012). For Debby, her disenchanting undergraduate experience was one step forward in following her passion once she recognized an authentic interest in history (a field to be pursued later). In addition, Debby explored multiple options and degree switches to find a meaningful fit with her program selection. She demonstrated what Bandura (2006) refers to as agentic action through forethought and self-reflectiveness in finding purpose and meaningfulness in her course work. Although seeking alignment of her interests with a degree plan resulted in an obligatory choice, she was successful in honoring her parents’ wishes by graduating.

All authors experienced relational prodding and pushes from instructors or family members to continue their collegiate goal. Most were positive pressures, some resulted in both positive and negative effects, and a few were negative influences. For Sheila, she experienced negative forces from her spouse; however, rather than tamp down her desire, his adverse comments increased her determination to prove herself and succeed. Her action demonstrates hardiness and an ability to cope with and deflect stressors that would normally dissuade individuals in their efforts (Kobasa, 1979). In Sheila’s case, she tapped into and flipped negative energy to fuel her genuine goals.

Breaking Boundaries

Denise’s journey to higher education

As a public school teacher with over 6 years of experience and recognition for Excellence (Teacher of the Year), I learned from my students every day! However, I saw peers who needed assistance with pedagogical skills or understanding learners’ perspectives and needs. Completing my master’s by my second year of teaching, I wanted to pursue a doctorate in teacher education to address what I perceived were gaps in teachers’ training. With this degree, I would then work in public schools to teach teachers how to hone and master their skills. As I considered taking this significant step toward a terminal degree, remnant feelings of not being good enough lingered where self-doubts ruminated in my head. And, for the first time, I would be required to take a formal entry test, the Graduate Record Examination (GRE). I was petrified as I had no experience in taking any academic standardized tests to compare or predict results (i.e., other than CLEP which was used solely for granting undergraduate credit). In addition, familial factors added stress to taking on this academic goal. I had a second child and my husband started two businesses. Financial factors were another concern, as my military funds were depleted. All logistics considered, I would have to quit teaching to pursue this degree. After 6 years of experience, quitting my teaching position was perhaps the toughest aspect of doctoral aspirations. I would miss the students!

I began my doctorate through a deal with my husband—quit teaching and help him with his businesses, while taking classes and raising our children (No small feat). I began taking classes part-time and, through one of my professor’s recommendations, started work as a research assistant and instructor of undergraduate courses. This beginning experience in higher education was pivotal to my professional destination. I loved teaching and, being newly introduced to qualitative research, found it fascinating. In addition, my reputation as an effective instructor was noticed by key decision-making faculty. Before graduating, I was offered a full-time clinical position. I continued in this position until landing a tenure-track position at a sister institution. Who would have thought that a janitor’s daughter, former sergeant in the Marine Corps, and elementary teacher would become an assistant professor? However, once in higher education, I repeatedly had to prove myself. I felt that I would never be adequate, even with a well-deserved doctorate and position in the Ivory Tower.

Sheila’s journey to higher education

As a divorced single parent, I moved to another state to teach. Being a teacher in a state that pays among the lowest in the nation made attending college a financial challenge. It also presented a time challenge, as being a single parent in a low-paying state requires one to work two jobs to make ends meet. At this time, I also pursued certification from the National Board of Professional Teaching Standards. This certification recognizes accomplished teachers and is the most respected professional certification available in K-12 education. I passed the exam on my first attempt. This recognition confirmed my worthiness, acceptance as a master teacher, and provided an annual stipend, which enabled me to pay for graduate courses in Library and Information Science at the state university. Miraculously, a grant was available for free tuition for an online program in my field. I applied for the scholarship, which was granted—yet, another confirmation of my worthiness!

Completing the graduate program made me realize how much I loved school librarianship and how much I loved school. Graduating from this master’s program provided me with another opportunity to further my education. One of my instructors invited me to go through the doctoral program at the same university where I earned my master’s degree. All the courses I could take while in residency on campus for the first year were paid for. I struggled to take all my courses in 1 year, but I did, and did so successfully. I also struggled with my confidence level because I kept hearing my ex-husband say, “no one wants to listen to you . . .” Every time I would put pen to paper I would hear those words and begin questioning myself. Why am I writing this manuscript? No one wants to hear what I have to say. I still struggle with it, though I have had many positive comments, citations, and support for my work, I still can’t get those words out of my head—and they will likely remain there.

Debby’s journey to higher education

After a 5-year career in retail management, I returned to college motivated by my need for a deeper life purpose. I felt ready and needed to prove to myself that I could excel academically and erase the trials of my first college experience. So, at the age of 26, I declared myself an art history major with the goal of being a museum curator. As guided by my academic advisor, I sought a secondary education certification to expand my career options. Once in the School of Education, I was hooked. My academic drive was boundless as fueled by new-found purpose. I excelled. For the first time, I was unaffected by the pressure to please others and prove that I was worthy of all the support my parents had given me; I was excelling for myself and eager to “right” my first missed academic opportunity. Within 2 years, I graduated with honors and a teaching certificate. Directly upon graduation, I began my career as a high school history teacher.

I was perfectly happy in the classroom and inspired by the challenge of teaching. I had found my purpose. Within 5 years, influenced by a principal who saw my potential as a leader, I found myself an integral leader in my district’s school reform efforts. Serving as a school improvement facilitator, my informal education began. Through many grants, I was part of a team that was trained by corporate leaders on organizational change and leadership. These learning experiences enlivened me and illuminated my skills as a professional developer and instructional leader. With a toddler at home, I began a Master’s in School Leadership. I hated it. My experience echoed my first encounter with college, leaving me uninspired and simply going through the motions. Redirected by a colleague, I refocused my degree toward Curriculum and Instruction, a degree that inspired me. I loved the meaningful connection to my practice as an instructional leader. As a part-time student, and full-time mother and teacher, my progress was slow. To expedite my graduation, I quit my school position and became a teaching assistant and full-time graduate student at the university. The goal was to graduate and move out of the area to pursue a professional development position in another school district. This plan would change, not because of my own motivation but out of opportunity.

It took months for me to be convinced to pursue a doctorate. Although I knew the achievement of a doctoral degree would enrich my purpose as a teacher educator, I knew the required entry test (I had taken an alternative entrance exam of entry into the master’s program) would be an unobtainable obstacle. I would simply not subject myself to the failure of the math portion on this exam. Nevertheless, I surrendered to the logical arguments presented by my colleagues, advisor, and family. In my mind, the process would be stopped by my inability to achieve the benchmark scores required for entry; however, I was wrong.

Within 2 months of entering the doctoral program, I knew I was over my head. The experience was nothing like my first graduate experience. I was struggling and the limited confidence I had gained from my previous academic successes (after all, I was the Master’s Student of the Year) was extinguished. In a very short time, all the internal work I had done in my 30s to thwart my disempowering inner voices was erased. Despite this, I was determined. I had to prove to myself that I could do this. In the end, the challenge of the program and other self-development experiences allowed me to find my academic voice and the tenacity it took to complete a dissertation.

Acquiring a doctorate and professoriate post

All authors were inspired and enthused by opportunities to pursue new challenges. They also all received awards for their talents as educators or graduate students; and therefore recognized they possessed skills that could contribute to addressing needs in the field of education and their respective specialization areas. Although self-doubts and critical reflections continued, they defied those self-inflicted internal voices of hesitation and reservation and made a determined choice to tackle doctoral studies. Their choices were life-changing and perhaps the most actualizing events in their professional experiences. Through doctoral work, their purpose was clear, meaningful, and quelled most of their qualms of worthiness. Most importantly, they were empowered to produce new knowledge. Conversely, sacrifices were made, and as mothers, family responsibilities, issues, and constraints impacted their doctoral tasks (Brown & Watson, 2010; Lynch, 2008). In addition, as female doctoral students, scholarly identity formation was thwarted through socio-psychological dynamics within the university structure (Carter et al., 2013; Maher et al., 2004). Adding to this challenge, overall completers of doctorates is just over 50% (Council of Graduate Schools, 2008). With innumerable forces pushing against doctorate completion, sacrifices were made and compensations applied. These efficacious coping strategies assist individuals in meeting academic goals during challenging situations (Kobasa & Puccetti, 1983; Tate et al., 2015; Westman, 1990).

Building Bastions

Denise’s principles in action

In previous publications, through narrative stories, I have shared my challenges in acquiring a college education as well as developing an identity as an academic (see McDonald, 2016, in press-a; McDonald & Farrell, 2012). I have always believed that I possess human agency (evident in observable skills), but held little social, economic, or cultural capital based on my family’s low SES. I never wanted to go to college just to earn higher wages. Economics was not the driving force. I loved school and loved learning. However, I completely understood that a college education would place me in a higher social and economic station in life—one that perhaps would recognize my individual contributions to society. With social recognition, I would be enabled to positively influence others, most notably in higher education. As a new academic, I found myself now pseudo-empowered to enact my principles and assist others in realizing their potential, as I am at my best when helping others. However, academia is another politically emblazoned, socially crafted hierarchical setting—with dogmatic and partisan power running amuck. I was sniffed and snuffed out as a less-deserving colleague from the inception of my tenure-track position. Apparently, I did not exude the airs of the expected social class of academics (i.e., my interpretation of the situation and setting). So again, I continued to have to prove myself as being passable and compatible in the social class I found myself. However, this situation spurred actions on my principles and I saw an opportunity to serve as a diplomat for the disadvantaged, that is, other FGCS facing a variety of challenges. I wanted to be the one to provide encouragement, support, and recognition of individual human agency these students brought to the university as degree candidates. My good fortune has been co-presenting and co-authoring with many students who will pay forward academic opportunities with their own students. I operate best from the ground up and proudly watch seeds of influence flourish.

Sheila’s principles in action

Throughout my time spent as a less-experienced junior faculty seeking tenure, I repeatedly heard that neophyte faculty are supposed to be protected. They are supposed to focus on their research, teaching, and service to ensure they meet the requirements to become tenured. This was not the case in my experience. I was expected to do much work that went well above and beyond what a new faculty member would typically be expected to do. Even so, I performed at the top of my game and earned Excellent from all my superiors in all three areas of research, teaching, and service. Earning Excellent in all three areas was not necessary, yet I strived for the top scores. I’m not gifted. I’m not brilliant. I’m simply a hard worker—a workhorse. Where did this come from? What is within me that creates the need for always putting forth my best work? Why did I continue with my education to get a terminal degree? Was it a thirst for knowledge? Did it make me more valuable? Did I need to prove myself worthy? Did I do it to honor my grandmother?

Along my journey I was provided with many opportunities to be successful. The barrier of being poor and having under-educated parents led me to success. I believe my grandmother instilled within me the desire to always learn and that learning all I can would provide great rewards. The people in my life who judged or who never thought I would be good enough developed within me the need to always prove my worth and the desire to always want to perform at my best. I believe my success started with my grandmother’s belief that I could do more, go further, and have a more successful educational journey than her own child (my mother). I believe her way of making the world a better place for our family was through me.

Debby’s principles in action

Entering a tenure-track position 6 months prior to graduation, my career as a tenure-track professor began at the age of 45. Imagine my proud parents. I had resisted their push to go to college, wandering through the experience with no purpose or possibilities for my future. And now they had a daughter with a doctorate. How did this happen? It was both despite and because of who I am. My journey in academia began motivated by the fear of disappointing my parents. Along the way, I began to hold myself to high standards to silence the echoes of my failed experiences. Beyond my academic pursuits, I have pointedly developed myself to know myself holistically. My own personal development has been instrumental to me obtaining my current position. I am a deeply self-reflective person, who has learned how to wrestle with her disempowering voices (at some times, more effectively than others). I was lucky to have people in my life that pushed me out of my limited perception of myself. Yet, currently, I am struggling with the decision to pursue full professorship. My colleagues are adamantly advocating for me, while my internal voice is loudly protesting. What I have learned about myself throughout my academic pursuits is that my tenacity is only fueled by meaningful purpose. If I find that, I always find my way.

Actions as first-generation academics

The authors’ individual passions (Denise—love of learning, Sheila—achievement of professional goals, Debby—relevance of learning such as social justice through social education) are now realized in the professional meaningfulness of their academic positions as tenure-track university faculty. At this point in their careers, they all hope to make positive contributions within the education field and more broadly to society. Nevertheless, all three experience ongoing challenges of acceptance and institutionally set expectations to prove their substantive value as academics within rigorous assignments of a politicized academic environment. Fortunately, tests of worthiness are spaces for growth that these academics have unquestionably sought throughout their professional careers as ongoing, transformative opportunities (Mezirow, 2000). The authors have also historically applied their talents over time (Duckworth et al., 2007) and demonstrated skills in flipping deficits into attributes grounded in the high standards set for themselves. The authors’ efficacious actions (Bandura, 2000, 2006), true to their values, hard work, and best efforts as academics emulate a committed focus to a greater good.

Levels of Intersectionality, Power, Privilege, and Oppression of Social Identities

Unique academic experiences provide insight to the complexity of social hierarchy within educational settings. The authors all undeniably value learning and believe in the merits of acquiring an education through formal degrees conferred by universities. However, the authors also clearly see how privilege, centered on economic, social, symbolic, and cultural capital, provides advantages and power. Individuals with deficits in capital have greater difficulty in pursuing higher education and often experience marginalization, disenfranchisement, and oppression.

Denise lacked all forms of capital and experienced oppression of her social identity based primarily on her lower SES (working class) background, secondarily on language through use of non-standard English, and third on age. Intersectionality of these three identity markers shaped college experiences differently than traditional college students from elite social group backgrounds. Although she had G.I. Bill benefits to cover tuition, Denise had to work while attending college, which imposed on time for completing school assignments and allowed for no extracurricular campus activities. Also, as noted previously, she experienced oppressive weight regarding her non-standard language use that initially marginalized and disempowered her early educational experiences in writing courses. Use of non-standard English reflected her absence of position and social power within the university setting. She learned to adapt to and adopt Standard English, thus confirming the dominant social structure/preference and revealing how learners are groomed for complicity in replicating dominant social norms that potentially oppress or disenfranchise an individual’s identity. In addition, age was a marginalizing factor. As a non-traditional “older” undergraduate student, there was a silent second-class stigma that demarcated her from younger dominant group peers at the elite university she first attended. Her SES, along with age, contributed to feelings of social asymmetry among her peers.

Throughout her educational pursuits, Denise experienced unremitting challenges of subordination as her low SES origin subtly exuded working-class identity deficits. She felt pressure to continually prove herself suitable for the task, even when in a professional position as an academic. From her perspective, acquiring a middle-class status (through college degrees) would always be tainted by symbolic indebtedness to society for allowing her (with a working-class background) access to a college education (Loveday, 2015). Degrees accrued do not necessarily parallel with legitimation of value in certain societal spheres (e.g., at elite institutions, status of an EdD is considered below a PhD, although they are both terminal degrees). Individual agentic traits of grit and hardiness, problem-solving acumen, support offered from others, and at times serendipity aided Denise in access to educational opportunities and mitigated challenges in achieving academic goals. However, assimilation of social identity and recognition of symbolic capital of academic accomplishments prove elusive and slower to materialize (Crozier et al., 2019). Her “person-value” and spurious sense of belonging remain to be legitimated (Loveday, 2016).

Sheila’s educational encounters were saddled with similar marginalizing experiences rooted in her working-class upbringing, limited capital, and age as well. She masterfully overcame many financial barriers by tapping into funding opportunities (such as scholarships) and fast-tracking her doctoral studies to optimize available grant funds. Sheila developed keen skills in obtaining opportunities to increase her cultural capital and gain social mobility through education endeavors (Duckworth et al., 2007). However, perhaps the most oppressive force was in her own household with a non-supportive, deliberately sabotaging spouse. This intimate oppressor was incessantly critical and would attempt to quash her educational efforts at every turn. Sheila channeled his tyrannizing torment as internal incentive for forging ahead and completing her degree. Initially, Sheila’s habitus was linked to traditional docility as a wife. Pursuing an education broadened her identity, which generated a chasm in her marriage and a cleft habitus (across the fields of family and academia). Consequently, she rejected one identity to pursue a more authentic one, which aligned with her grandmother-instilled value, “The more you know, the further you’ll go.” Sheila reinvented herself and continues to do so through incessant tests of proving herself worthy throughout her academic journey. Nevertheless, her dogged determination, focus, hard work, commitment, inherent talents, and recognition of her potential from others helped facilitate her academic successes.

Debby did not experience the same hardships. Her middle-class/working-class parents provided economic and cultural capital to pursue college on a traditional track for timely completion of a degree. They believed a college education was valuable for ensuring social mobility regarding their daughter’s future, and therefore invested time, effort, encouragement, and finances to support and ensure she would complete college. However, Debby’s own self-doubts briefly subverted her initial college efforts. Perhaps Debby’s parents’ blue-collar backgrounds were carried forward in her own identity on some level that originally disrupted her academic efficacy and self-views as a college student (Lubrano, 2003). In addition, Debby felt pressure to please her parents. Her parents brandished family and financial power, which generated a conflicting sense of identity regarding her life choices. Regardless, Debby’s passion for seeking authenticity in what she could personally and professionally contribute to society emerged through identity-forming actions as an advocate for social justice issues within academia. She flipped nagging doubts into stubborn strength, where her progressive views of education as an academic were enacted through critical self-examination and highly reflective practice.

Academia—Gendered and Classed

Overlapping social markers of gender and class emerged as key impacts on educational experiences. Regarding academic positions, the authors experienced intersections of gender and class as complementary axes of oppression.

Gender

Other educators view the field of academia as gendered and classed (Hey, 2003; Johansson & Jones, 2019; Loveday, 2016; Reay, 2004). For example, as women academics from working-class backgrounds, Johansson and Jones (2019) experienced identity dislocation within their institutions and introduce “interloper” as a conceptual stance for examining socially constructed class and gender within masculinized hierarchies in academia. In institutional roles, the authors experienced gender tensions, not necessarily through social exclusion or feelings of being an “interloper” but rather through heavily assigned minutiae tasks such as report writing or time-consuming service obligations. These assignments yield little reward, recognition, or associated decision-making power (McDonald, in press-b). Conversely, male colleagues of equal ranking are rarely asked to undertake these types of service obligations. Furthermore, when asked to take on assignments, males can more easily decline requests with no judgment or repercussions, whereas refusals from females often result in deleterious assaults against their adequacy as academics. The authors cynically joke by calling themselves the “busy worker bees” or “mother hens” because they conduct the bulk of housekeeping chores for their college or respective departments. Gendered bureaucracy is evident, with hegemonic masculine ideals heralded as the accepted, unspoken standard (see Bird, 2011). Recent hiring of women in high-level administrative positions may sway the male-dominant lopsidedness of the authors’ institutional leadership. They are hopeful for balance.

Class

As women of working-class backgrounds, the authors embody traits of being hardworking, highly conscientious, and exhibit commitment to their profession and positions. These attributes are recognized and tapped by others as commodities that can contribute to institutional progress. Nevertheless, a working-class identity, with its corresponding sense of insufficiency, permeates the social structure and milieus of higher education. Subtle, not-to-be-questioned, expectations have been imposed, which are indubitably accepted. Moreover, the authors continually scrutinize their legitimacy and capacity as academics (with pernicious effect). It is as if, through nuanced embodied dispositions of working-class upbringing, the authors’ foreheads have been indelibly stamped with “We will make up for our self-perceived deficiencies through mammoth amounts of work.” Therefore, without intent, the authors comply and contribute to the established social hierarchy through an obligatory sense of subordination to the dominant group and culture.

Securing positions and tenure as professors in academia has been a life goal achievement. Unfortunately, a tsunami of painful contradictions, disjuncture, ambivalences, tensions, doubts, and feelings of unease regarding scholarly identities as working-class academics have been experienced (Hey, 2003). With identities in a continuous flux, there exists a struggle to keep buoyant. Nonetheless, restless identities incite reflexivity and a hope to produce transformative growth as academics.

Class of origin, as embodied experience, remained with the authors as they sought cultural capital and social mobility through degree attainment. Degrees, as academic qualifications, represent cultural competence and serve as cultural and symbolic capital. The ultimate dominance of cultural capital in the field of education is a terminal degree—a qualifying institutional signature or stamp of approval by a professional organization. The authors earned this virtuous accolade; however, they are still confounded by how agency and successes as FGCS and academics developed within existing dominant social structures and the power relations they faced.

Professional Implications

The goal of the study was to share what was learned by taking a regressive glance at past experiences, applying analytical insights gained that can be applied to current practices and ideally extending the understanding of the FGCS’ experiences through future research studies. Implications for practice, research projects, and institutional policies that may be professionally impacted are posed below.

Pedagogy

One micro-level implication of this study directly affects the authors’ own pedagogy. Recognizing previously unexamined hardships that the authors, as FGCS, tackled to obtain degrees has heightened self-awareness regarding constraints that other FGCS (undergraduate and graduate students) potentially confront in their educational pursuits. This awareness inspires curricular and instructional change to increase student-centered activities and assignments that provide authentic learning opportunities which draw on students’ cultural and economic backgrounds and optimize development of their unique experiential knowledge and skills. One such student assignment can include individual narratives of schooling experiences, which provide crucial background information for educators and provide student voice for framing their learning. Through these types of instructional changes, instructors can help close latent gaps in cultural capital and heighten learners’ aptitude and academic advancement.

In addition, critical examination of rubrics and other guides used for assessing students’ work must be conducted to remove potential biases that are unquestionably imposed (i.e., passing scores/grades based on replication or reproduction of instructor’s own habitus). Professional standards provide general structure for outlining and setting expected learning and skills to be mastered; however, interpreting how those standards are demonstrated by learners can be skewed or morphed by educators’ individual conceptions. Therefore, instructors’ insight and direct action are necessary to provide equitable learning opportunities for current and future FGCS in higher education. Changes made to the authors’ practices based on this study as described above will be enacted, examined, and tested.

Research

Generally, narrative inquiry and duoethnography studies involve personal and highly specific findings within unique contexts, where generalizability of findings is scant. However, new queries and research ideas emerge effortlessly through these qualitative types of research processes (explicated in the “Future Studies” section). Moreover, duoethnography is a relatively novel methodology, where perhaps this study adds evidence of validity to the methodological process and piques other researchers’ interest for utilization in their own work. Regarding the authors’ future studies, duoethnography has been experienced as a powerful new methodology added to their cache of research skills. Finally, with this acquired research skill, duoethnography can now be shared with doctoral students who are pursuing queries which involve reflexive and critical dialogue between two or more researchers (as data sources).

Policy

All three authors of this study hold various responsibility roles within their respective departments, which place them in prime position to address possible unexamined exclusionary policies at the college or university level regarding FGCS’ collegiate experiences. The authors’ own decades-old experiences present highly inferential evidence that systemic inequities continue. To ensure social balance for educational opportunities, through dialogue and action, long buried issues must be unearthed and systematic barriers eradicated. This is more than a guiding platitude for the authors as they have recently taken direct action by serving on university governing boards focused on related issues (i.e., support for first-generation and Latinx students) and formally mentoring new undergraduates as advisors. The relational element of professors as accessible mentors for FGCS is critical in (a) guiding these students for a better understanding of university expectations and (b) providing support regarding any concerns, qualms, or self-doubts they may have about their college efforts.

Limitations

Several limitations in this study are acknowledged. To serve the purpose of self-exploration of FGCS’ degree acquisition and control the range of collected data, the study was delimited to three academics from the same institution and college. These three participants share traits of gender, race, age group, parent educational backgrounds, and SES; therefore, findings are limited and not generalizable to a broader group due to the narrow range of participants’ backgrounds and perspectives. Qualitative studies such as narrative inquiry and duoethnography provide rich, in-depth subjective exploration of a specific research query; however, broad examination of a phenomenon is sacrificed. Fortunately, this initial study sets the foundation for potentially more expansive and objective reviews of FGCS terminal degree acquisition across a wider band of participants through surveys, focus groups, and individual interviews as data sets. Finally, mixed methods would greatly enhance ongoing scrutiny of the topic.

Future Studies

Based on the limited parameters of this study, future research can advance in a multitude of directions to provide generalizable findings. Three specific foci for extended research are identified. For one, the authors are all abled Caucasian females. How does terminal degree acquisition for FGCS from different cultural backgrounds, gender, or with disabilities differ? In this same vein, what are some shared experiential commonalities of their college experiences and degree completion? A comprehensive examination of other FGCS with diverse personal histories regarding challenges and support systems they experienced attaining college degrees would enrich research on this topic.

Furthermore, all authors hold terminal degrees and academic positions in the education field. What about FGCS who possess terminal degrees in other fields such as engineering, medicine, law, psychology, and others? How do their experiences in acquiring terminal degrees differ or present similarities? What trials or constraints did they face? What kind of assistance or backing did they receive? In general, how do FGCS’ educational journeys vary in other fields of study?

Finally, all authors attained their doctorates later in life (i.e., ages 42, 58, and 46), which granted them time to acquire cultural capital that would be supportive to their efforts. What about FGCS who complete terminal degrees within 10 years of graduating from high school? What were their greatest challenges? Conversely, what conditions supported them in achieving academic goals? Most importantly, what are unique characteristics shared by young, high-achieving FGCS who earn terminal degrees?

These are three areas of research that will be explored more fully in future studies. Researchers of this study plan to use the information categories presented in Table 1 as constructs for shaping questions on a survey distributed to respondents across different fields of expertise. Respondents will be requested to serve as participants in follow-up focus group interviews. Individual interviews will be conducted with willing participants. Ideally, those participants will represent multiple occupational fields for an all-inclusive, thorough analysis of FGCS’ experiences attaining terminal degrees.

Concluding Discussion

What are some takeaways from the stories of FGCS who defied national statistics and acquired terminal professional degrees and university positions? Despite noted disadvantages experienced by the authors, the serendipitous support, encouragement, and recognition from instructors or supervisors (Haynes et al., 2012) and several by-chance opportunities to advance professional pursuits played substantial roles in all three academics’ acquisition of terminal degrees and scholarly achievements. Support and opportunity were external keys to their successes; however, they also possessed and utilized individual human agency of inherent positive traits that propelled them forward such as determination, problem-solving acumen, goal-setting skills, openness to challenges, agentive action, hardiness, critical insight/reflection, perseverance, and independent thinking. These effectual characteristics possibly (and partially) resulted as compensation strategies from familial upbringing (i.e., regarding disadvantages as well as advantages) for progressing individually, against the odds, on their own terms.

Perhaps for Denise and Sheila, beginning their academic journey below the level playing field developed fortitude and proficiencies that ultimately eased their arduous climb in clambering out of their socioeconomic crevasse to summit the academic peak. However, with terminal degree accomplishments and academic positions acquired, both claim that although they are more efficacious in their identity and actions as scholars, not all of their thin-skinned, self-doubts, and self-critiques have been shed along the way. For Debby, her critical reflections steered a rich learning journey, which meandered in decisional twists and turns that led to her ultimate unforeseen destination as an academic. Perhaps for her, rather than a fissure to climb out of, she also combated self-doubts through challenges of indecision, contrasting narratives, and conflicting loyalties (i.e., to self vs. to parents) of “which way to go” in her scholarly journey that took her to various unanticipated professional spaces. However, through insight and determination, she eventually ventured to a passionate place to actualize her authentic interests.

From the authors’ stories, perhaps there are no novel, generalizable suggestions or panacea for how to support human agency and development in FGCS’ pursuit of post-secondary and graduate studies. Their human agency is experiential in nature—navigated by individual inherent characteristics and honed through responses to challenges and deliberate choices made regarding professional opportunities. However, in hindsight, all three authors understand the importance and influence of instrumental others who mentored their academic pursuits through recognition of talent, skills, and potential; guidance and direction offered; support of efforts; opportunities afforded; and challenges presented as enticements for progress. Moreover, a universal question remains—how can individual human agency be optimized through societal support and all levels of schooling opportunities? Finally, perhaps there is an advantage in being underestimated (by society as well as self), where ultimate achievement is paradoxically bittersweet—as the very barriers that challenge us and place us behind the pack serve as experiential catalysts for transformation when morphed into building blocks for academic pursuits.

Footnotes

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

ORCID iD

Denise McDonald

About the Authors

Denise McDonald, EdD, is a professor at the University of Houston–Clear Lake. She teaches curriculum and instruction courses in undergraduate, master’s, and doctoral programs. Her research interests include scholarly identity formation, teacher education, learner motivation, and exemplary pedagogy. She employs qualitative research methods such as self-study, narrative inquiry, and critical ethnography to explore topics of interest.

Sheila Baker, PhD, is an associate professor and coordinator of School Library and Information Science, University of Houston–Clear Lake. She prepares teachers to be effective school librarian managers and leaders within the school community. Her research interests include the technology integration and leadership roles of school librarians, teacher–librarian collaboration, and children’s literature. Her goal is to help preservice teachers and school librarians be leaders in their field of practice.

Debby Shulsky, EdD, is an associate professor of social studies and program coordinator of Teacher Education. As a social studies educator of over 20 years, she currently designs learning experiences for EC-12 undergraduate teacher candidates that explore pedagogies, which cultivate the essential literacies and habits of mind required of critically engaged global citizens. Based in social justice, her body of work illuminates practical classroom strategies that empower young learners to see themselves as change agents, who are readied to take critically informed action in their communities and the world at large.

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