My name is Débora Pereira. I was born in Santiago, Chile, in 1986. Four years ago, after waiting sixteen years for a residency visa, my family and I finally moved to the United States. I’m married, I have three children, and since 2022, Everett Community College has become a central part of this new chapter in my life.
When I arrived, I didn’t even know what a “community college” was. My main goal was simple and huge at the same time: to adapt. New country, new culture, a language completely different from my own. I just wanted to be able to go to a store, order a coffee, go to the supermarket, and be understood.
Because Everett CC was close to my home—and because my parents had studied English there twenty years ago—it felt like the right place to start. I enrolled in the ESL program, from level one all the way through the transition program.
Along the way, the college became more than just a place to practice verbs and vocabulary. I found kind professors, classmates I could help, and a community that made me feel welcome. I started realizing that this wasn’t only a place to fix my English; it was also a place where I could actually start a new career and earn a degree.
That’s when the financial reality hit even harder. For residents and citizens, there’s FAFSA, grants, and sometimes free tuition—but access isn’t easy. There are requirements, gaps, and a constant question in the background: Can I really afford this?
To get into a degree program, you have to take prerequisites like English and math. Academically, that makes sense. But each of those classes also costs money. So studying becomes a strange mix of excitement and stress: the desire to learn and, at the same time, the constant pressure of how to pay for it.
Sometimes the frustration doesn’t come from a lack of academic support—the professors are helpful, there are books and resources—but from the financial pressure. You’re juggling family, work, homework, and on top of that, the fear that your financial aid might not be enough next quarter.
In my case, I also have a 19-year-old son who is studying at the same college. As a family, he is the priority. That means I haven’t stopped my own program, but I move forward slowly. I need time to take care of my home, my children, work, and study.
That’s why the idea of guaranteeing the first two years of college for CTC students feels so powerful to me. I imagine what it would be like to study without money constantly sitting in the back of my mind. It’s not the same to give 80% of yourself while carrying financial worries, as it is to study knowing that tuition isn’t another bill waiting to swallow your paycheck. I truly believe it would increase student success. Education shouldn’t be a product only for those who can pay; it should be a public guarantee. When a student receives an education, it benefits the entire community, not just that one person or family.
Being a parent and a student adds another layer. The first big challenge is money. You have to stretch every dollar to cover food, rent, bills, and, on top of that, tuition and books. Providing for your children will always come first.
Academic advising has been very important for me. When I’ve been confused about how the system works, what classes I should take, or what the next step is, advisors have helped me find my way. But I’ve also seen what happens when that guidance disappears.
My oldest son went through that. His advisor left the college, and he was suddenly alone, unsure of what came after his program, how to choose a major, or how to get his plan approved.
As first-generation parents, we don’t always know how to guide our children through this system either. People assume young adults can just “figure it out,” but the truth is they often need a clear roadmap—someone to say: “Here’s what you do next.”
For me, feeling safe and supported as an immigrant student means being able to take the next step in my education without my status becoming a barrier. It means being able to show who I am and what I can contribute, without fear.
I do worry about how personal information is used. We live in a time when no one feels completely safe, especially immigrants. I wouldn’t want my data to be misused, but that fear shouldn’t stop me from studying and building a future for my family. Stronger protections around personal and immigration data would have a huge positive impact. Knowing that your academic records and personal information are truly protected would allow you to move forward with more confidence and less fear.
If I could ask for a few things, they would be these: more financial access so that going to college isn’t just for those who can afford it; and more human, welcoming spaces like Bridges that remind us that behind every student ID number, there is a story, a family, and a future still in the making.