As a first-year, I went into O-week with skewed perceptions of what my interactions would look like. I feared I wouldn’t be able to relate to anyone, yet I have since found more community than I could have imagined.
The O-week experience and beginning of fall quarter can be overwhelming; these are tips I wish I had known at the start of my first year.
Do be more extroverted than necessary.
This advice applies to anyone, regardless of background. However, it is especially important for first-generation, low-income (FGLI) students to be open with one another. Being extroverted does not necessarily mean relaying every financial hardship or leading with the fact that your high school was underfunded. “Open” can simply mean saying, “I’m an Odyssey Scholar too!”
O-week will feel like a tsunami of interactions and faces you might not completely recognize or names you won’t remember by the end of the quarter. It is important to identify people who can relate to your struggles so you can comfortably confide in each other without dreading judgment. This could be someone to contact later to complain about your financial aid package, or someone to vent to when you are left flabbergasted by an out-of-touch statement overheard on campus. When imposter syndrome holds you hostage, or your STEM class midterm grades are released, and you’re second-guessing the admissions officer who read your essays, turn to your fellow FGLI students for support. Casting a wide net by speaking to as many people as possible increases the chances of finding others you can truly relate to. Your future self will thank you when you need to be reminded that you are not isolated in your struggles.
You might not form lifelong connections with other FGLI students during O-week, but you can form bonds that ease your insecurities when you need them most, and interactions that will remind you that you are meant to be here, no matter how many times you choose to question it. Some of the most engaging conversations I had during O-week were started by delicately dancing around the idea of attending public high school and mentioning the word “Odyssey.”
Do be authentic, engaged, and bold.
During this past June, I had the opportunity to serve as a mentor for the 2026 Gates Scholarship conference. I interacted with hundreds of students from the class of 2030, many of whom have committed to attending top institutions like UChicago. I walked into the conference expecting to relay the little knowledge I had gained from my first year of college, a first year that felt experimental at best and flew by way too fast at worst. What advice could I give these students that would prepare them for what was to come?
I focused on relaying advice that was far from idyllic, the kind that people hesitate to share because it centers on their failures. The advice included: Make yourself aware that barely passing a class is a possibility, and it is not a reflection of your capacity to learn. College can challenge the perspectives you grew up with; do not be scared of questioning your beliefs—feeling conflicted is valid. This was the transparent view of college I wish I had before orientation week, one that featured the inevitable struggles with mental well-being, not just the classic “show up to office hours” or “avoid 8 a.m.”.
At that same conference, I met another incoming Gates Scholar to the University of Chicago. In the midst of discussion about the terrors of the bio Core and navigating the financial aid office, this scholar explained that he had been visiting every table within the conference center in search of other students also attending UChicago. Each table was full of unfamiliar faces. His persistence in searching for community solidified the idea that a community for FGLI students exists within these institutions. It is forged by those very students who need it most. Though small networks of FGLI students at UChicago can seem almost nonexistent, our voices signal to others that we exist and thrive here.
The Gates scholars from the class of 2030 (cohort nine) left me with more lessons than I could have ever provided them. As the conference neared the end, each small group of mentors and mentees was given a commemorative paddle to sign and bring home as a souvenir. As the Sharpie marker was passed around the table, my mentees scribbled their signatures onto the paddle. The last marked words were “Love Always.” The phrase has stuck with me since. I did not interpret love in the literal sense when replaying the phrase on the plane home. It instead took the shape of “nurturing.” For first-gen communities to grow, the relationships within them have to be fostered. Nurture the relationships and connections you have made and will make, whether those connections are formed during the speedrun that is O-week or later. That means being honest about experiences with imposter syndrome and telling the high schoolers within your circles that institutions like UChicago are within their reach.
Bring that mindset back to campus too: being authentic and open has allowed me to form friendships with other Odyssey scholars, friendships I fall back on when it feels like attending this institution is some odd timeline within my life that was never truly supposed to exist.
Engage with the Quest+ RSO (even if you are not a QuestBridge recipient).
Despite being rejected from the QuestBridge College Match, I found solace in their events because the Quest+ community is for everyone. Whether you identify as low-income, first-generation, both, or simply want to accompany a friend, Quest+ will welcome you all the same. Last year, I attended an event for both graduate and undergraduate students held by Quest+. I initially expected the event to feel like a networking session, and I entered the event feeling awkward. However, as conversation flowed through icebreaker questions about on-campus resources, I quickly realized that we all shared the same goal: providing advice and receiving some in return while making new connections. This event was not solely a chance to network; it was an opportunity to connect.
During one of the icebreaker activities, everyone at the table took turns writing down campus resources onto a large poster. Before my turn, many wrote down resources for school supplies, the Quest+ library, and C.A.R.E.S. (a program that provides students with food resources during school breaks). My mind immediately jumped to “career treks,” so I wrote it down. “What’s that?” a recently graduated student from the University of Southern California pursuing a graduate degree in social work at the Crown School curiously inquired. I was surprised that some of the graduate students were unfamiliar with career treks. I explained how career treks are short trips where groups of UChicago students travel to different cities to speak with employers in different industries. I made sure to include that the financial aid office offers fee waivers and financial support for flights and hotels for undergraduates.
A fourth-year undergraduate student at the table excitedly shared that she would be participating in a public health career trek in Indonesia, which was mostly covered by financial aid. She insisted I try at least one myself before graduating. In fact, I had previously been intimidated by traveling abroad, but she persuaded me to plan an international trek experience of my own.
That same student enthusiastically shared her success story about improving her financial aid package. I assumed financial aid was something set in stone. However, the fourth-year student shared that she was able to improve her financial aid package by making persistent phone calls to the financial aid office and detailing her financial situation. Apart from discussing resources, many of us connected on the fact that we hadn’t explored Chicago as much as we expected to during the year. Luckily, the Chicago locals at the event provided stellar recommendations like the Chicago Cultural Center, Logan Square, and Garfield Park Conservatory.
I actually left the event continuing a conversation with a second-year student majoring in computer science; we ended up walking and chatting about the difficulty of organic chemistry and our relief at not having to suffer through it. Quest+ events like the one I attended are a great way to spark conversations and learn about the opportunities available to you from your peers. (Added bonus: Many of the events include free food.)
Go where you are celebrated, not tolerated.
During my first year, I can vividly remember one day rearranging items in my dorm as a conversation buzzed on in the background. Their conversation was background noise as I organized. Most of the words whizzed by without a single one striking my attention, until I heard a student chuckle condescendingly, “Isn’t he broke?” Her friend retorted, “I don’t care about that.”
On the stark white shelves above my desk, a light blue pin sat, bravely displaying the phrase “Proud to be FGLI.” As an FGLI student, I made sure to visit the Center for College Student Success during O-week (located on the fourth floor of the West Tower of Harper). While at the CCSS office, I picked up a pin as a souvenir. Though I collected many pins and trinkets during O-week, that light blue pin remained a companion, whether tucked into my backpack or sitting on my dorm shelf.
Even though the comment was directed at a stranger I had no connection to, a jab at one’s financial status that mirrored my own felt like a blow to me. The comment did not criticize the unknown man’s character or actions, but something superficial: his financial status. All my accomplishments and sacrifices felt boiled down to a class status I had no control over. Although the inconsiderate comment was one-off, it was an important reminder: Go where you are celebrated, not tolerated.
For every scenario where I felt out of place, there is another interaction I would want to relive dozens of times over. Do not dwell on differences you couldn’t control, because the right people will see you for who you are, not where you came from.
I discovered a sense of belonging during Career Exploration Week. At a bustling New York restaurant, I opened up to my trip group about being the only student from my high school to attend UChicago. I was met with congratulations and genuine praise, which later turned into sharing book recommendations and the craziest events that had ever happened at our high schools. The interactions did not stop there. We bonded over employer visits to offices like ABC and A24. Financial background was never the center of conversation because our character and interactions with others mattered more than any single superficial characteristic.
I carried the warmth of that New York trip back to campus, using it as a blueprint for connecting with my peers. I maintained that same energy when people shared their accomplishments like internship offers and hidden talents. I still vividly remember one evening in the South common room when I found myself starstruck by the notes dancing through the air as one of my friends played the grand piano.
Ultimately, I was and am seen for my ideas, my character, and my skills—not boxed into a label because I have experiences different from theirs. The labels of “low-income” or “first-generation” only acknowledge your journey and sacrifices; they shouldn’t define you. Let your actions and ambitions do that.
