Apply Myself: Education During Homelessness

As a non-traditional student, I finally graduated from San Diego Mesa College in 2014. I hold an Associate’s degree in English (Honors) and an Associate’s degree in Sociology (Honors). And now, I’m homeless.

Homelessness after graduation doesn’t seem right… because it’s not. The good news is that I have a bed at a shelter, I’m taking an open course, and I have this writing shindig going on.

I was an intelligent child. I tested second in the State of California for the GATE Program and I was invited to attend Richardson Prep, a preparatory school. My test scores were high enough that I could leave fifth grade early and jump to junior high. But I didn’t graduate high school.

Somewhere between middle school in another state that involved fighting with peers—one of which left me with a staple scar from a skull fracture—my father leaving around 11^th grade, and an abusive ex-boyfriend, high school graduation never happened.

According to the California Homeless Education Technical Assistance Center (HETAC), “Young adults who have less than a high school diploma or GED are 4.5 times more likely to experience homelessness”.

Okay, but I earned my associate’s degree!

The plastic fork went into my mouth as I ate the only cup of noodles I would have for the day, and thought, this is what they eat at university.

I had opportunities to finish high school. Some of those opportunities included graduating from a charter school early. Another opportunity included graduating through a summer school program. Lastly, a correspondence course was another option. It was not that I didn’t try at all, but as time went on, it became increasingly difficult. Eventually, I enrolled in a community college—since you can do that without a diploma–and even with a few stumbles, I fought my way through. I was even accepted at the University of Arizona.

I lost my mom. My mom is everything you can imagine a mom is. She is someone I love very much. When she, a Transitional Assistance Department employee, where they help people with welfare, passed away, problems with finances arose, and my ex became abusive. At one point, he shoved me out of a truck and I fell on my tailbone.

Over a process of years, I metaphorically got up and I made my way to the homeless shelter. While it took the help of others and my educational pursuit, I’m trying to impress upon you now the one key trait that allowed my success: tenacity.

This is not to say that the system isn’t at fault. How is it that we have shelters while less than a mile away homeless people are sleeping outside? How did I fall through the cracks after graduation? According to HETAC, “Young adults who experienced homelessness were less than 1/3 as likely to be enrolled in four-year college as stably housed peers.”Granted, at some point, I stopped being a young adult. In order to gain shelter, you need transportation, an ID or proof of residency–and, of course, assuming there is an open bed. My license had been stolen, and I had to wait for the new one.

Education is not necessarily the subject matter. However, there has to be some irony in having a sociology degree while being homeless. Who do I think I am? Barbara Ehrenreich? Or maybe I’m my mom, “It’s the economy, Stupid!”

If it is, however, what about being anything you want—if you work hard, set your mind to it, and apply yourself? If it is, what does it matter what qualities I have on the inside?

My parents gave me a tiny Precious Moments book for Christmas. It read, “Tiffany, you can be anything you set your mind and heart to.” Am I supposed to toss that belief out because of the economy? While it seems to be winning—I am still continuing my education. Tenacity. Self-discipline seems needless when you’re trying to survive. Durkheim’s sociological concept of mechanical solidarity supports my experience as a replaceable part of society. As an individual, however, my view of education is not separate from my view of being able to do what I set my mind and heart to. So, while it was hard to prioritize finishing a poetry course I registered for because I was looking for food, it became imperative to, in spite of the system, fight for my dreams. I still do.

Works Cited