Growing up as a first-generation American to Indo-Caribbean parents, education wasn’t just about books and grades — it was my passport.

In our house, getting to “do things” with friends often came with one condition: it had to be tied to school or learning. And honestly, I didn’t mind. My love for education opened doors that might have stayed shut otherwise.

High school brought the Civil Justice Program — my first taste of something bigger. It even gave me the chance to go to a one-week sleepaway camp, something I’d never imagined for myself.

Then came a summer program at Montclair State University. A whole summer surrounded by science (my first love) and… my high school crush (my teenage heart was happy, too 😉).

When college applications rolled around, I applied everywhere. But life had other plans. My dad had just started his business and needed help in the office. I had to have a grown-up conversation with my strict Guyanese mom: I’d stay local and commute for undergrad, but there would be no compromise when it came to graduate school.

That conversation was hard. But it was also empowering. I realized then that fear kills dreams, but hope — hope strengthens them.

Four years later, I was accepted into graduate school. And I became the first in my family to move out on my own, supported by my role as a graduate teaching assistant.

Looking back now, on the cusp of 40, I see how each of these moments built me. Education wasn’t just my ticket to opportunity — it was my training ground for courage, self-advocacy, and dreaming bigger than my fears.