It is not uncommon to find second generation children studying at a collegiate level in the United States where there is much to offer. When I first started going to college, I thought “this is just what people do when they finish high school” or “it’s normal for parents to provide for their children and put them through college”. However, as I have grown older and wiser, I have become to realize how privileged I truly am to pursue a higher education.
I began my college education at a community college in San Diego, just like my sister did, and just like my brother did. This wasn’t because we didn’t get into top ranked schools, but it was because our parent’s wanted us to save money and transfer into a school that they thought best suited us. I recall loathing this decision that they made for me. Now looking back, I believe their intentions were what led me to study at a university that high school me would’ve begged for.
My parents immigrated from Vietnam in 1975 during the war. I had always known that they fled the war but it was not until a couple years ago that I heard their complete story. My father immigrated when he was 17 years old and my mother immigrated when she was 12 years old. They both came with nothing but the clothes on their body, a language barrier, and the few family members they were able to get on a boat with. They both worked factory jobs before finding their true occupation, one consisting putting together the sewing kits you might find in a hotel room and one cooking their childhood meals to sell on the weekends to make a couple extra bucks. After hearing this, I never complained about working again.
My parents families couldn’t afford schooling for them, but yet some how some way they were able to settle in sunny San Diego, create a family, put all their kids through college, and never ever took a day off work. I didn’t realize why they never took off work until I got older. Now that they are done raising kids and can afford to live comfortably, I asked them “why don’t you guys retire and go see the world”, their response was “you never know what is going to happen tomorrow and we need to make sure you all (my brother, sister, and I) are provided for when we are gone”. This struck a nerve that coursed through my entire body.
When I first came to USD, I had heard about the study abroad programs and the experience student’s were given with this opportunity. I was nervous to talk to my parents about it, but when I did they were more than happy to send me away for a semester so that I could experience something they were never given a chance at. Weeks before my flight was set to depart, I sat in front of my mirror in my childhood room, and bawled my eyes out. Because all I could think about was that I wish my parents could go experience the kind of education that they were able to provide for me. To me, it was not fair that they have worked so hard from the second they landed in the United States up until current day and they will never get the opportunities that they have given me.
I didn’t know how to categorize this feeling until I took a peak through their eyes. In a way, they were living vicariously through me and they were so incredibly happy that their hard work paid off and were able to give their kids opportunities that their parents couldn’t give them. To my parents, they weren’t jealous or envious, they were proud and going through the rest of my college career I realized that my parents are growing up just as I am and it’s something that I needed to look at differently in a good way. So when I graduate and walk across that stage to receive my diploma, it is just as much my parent’s as it is mine and I am more than honored to share that with them.
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