NOTE: This is the first in a three-part series about the experiences in, transitions from, and connections sustained by graduate students.
When choosing a graduate school to further your education, there are many factors as to why you end up where you are. Some of us choose programs due to financial aid provided, such as scholarships, stipends, and tuition remission. Others put the curriculum at the forefront of their decision and whether the classes will be useful in our future careers. It is also not too far-fetched to see people pick programs for the tangibles, like the school or program reputation, the cost, and the ability to put Master’s of Higher Education after our names on our business cards.
However, what if the decision process was centered around the “intangibles,” the experiences and potential relationships you could make in your grad school journey? It makes sense that we would value our relationships across campus in a field like higher education, where we continuously interact with campus students, staff, and faculty. Do we really value how much these relationships change our perspectives and inform our work in graduate school?
As new professionals, we – the authors of this article – find ourselves referencing the intangible elements of the relationships we made in graduate school as the most influential factors in our personal and professional development. Although we appreciate the theoretical frameworks we learned in class, we attribute much of our professional advancement, self-growth, and practical and philosophical approaches to our student affairs work to the people we have met along our graduate education journey. These articles will examine multiple anecdotes, covering how our different relationships affected our graduate journey and translated into our careers as new professionals. We will specifically examine our relationships with our cohort, the graduate school experience, and our support systems – how we built these, how they evolved, things we lost along the way, and things we maintained while pursuing our master’s degrees. We are grateful for the support and challenges these relationships have brought us, as they have made us stronger professionals and people. This is the first article in a three-part series exploring our relationship with ourselves during the graduate school experience. We will begin by sharing our own personal anecdotes and then conclude with prompts to guide your own reflections. Articles two and three will focus on the relationship with the graduate school experience in total and then our support systems.
Gabi
I had considered myself as someone with a generally good understanding of who I am, yet it took only two years for me to realize how little I knew. Now in a professional role, where I have greater skill in self-reflection, I have noticed how the tools and knowledge I gained through the master’s program in higher education helped me succeed well past what I had expected; primarily due to the relationships, classes, and opportunities we experienced as a cohort, which helped me reckon with my true sense of self.
My self-perception is the most consequential area of growth for me following graduate school, which was significantly expanded by learning about Kristen Renn’s theory on multiracial identity within our student development theory course (Renn, 2008). While my father is Mexican and my mother is White, I tended to avoid talking about my racial identity. Prior to my time as a graduate student, I would frequently hesitate to identify myself as Mexican in any space – those deemed “safe” among friends or otherwise.
Since I was a child, my appearance would often speak for me, as my dark curly hair and tan skin would often lead those of similar backgrounds to approach me speaking Spanish. When I was unable to reciprocate, the wave of disappointment emanating from them led me to believe that this aspect of my identity was not one to be embraced but was instead to be ignored out of the tension that I was not “enough” to be part of the community. Anytime I ventured into majority White or majority Hispanic spaces, there was a heightened internal anxiety of what I would be perceived as, and it was always an unknown if I would meet the hidden expectations of others.
Graduate school was an immediate challenge to change my self-assumptions, as learning that multiracial identity development was a tangible and well-established idea gave me insight into what I had been feeling my entire life. Learning about this theory in class was the first time I had ever mentioned this complex identity in an academic setting, where I was additionally encouraged to discuss and bring this complexity fully into the conversation. It was a substantial benefit in this process to be surrounded by phenomenal peers who also share various intersecting identities, creating a truly brave space where my thoughts and feelings were immediately affirmed. In future courses, I was able to continue centering this salient identity through multiple research projects, with my final Outcomes II course project relating to multiracial student belonging.
While there were (and still are) times in these past few years where my identity has been intentionally or unintentionally invalidated by others, I was able to grow confident enough in who I am to be proud in self-identifying as multiracial in all areas of my life. This newfound conviction in my racial identity has led me to get involved in NASPA’s Transracial and Multiracial Knowledge Community (TAMKC) as a board member, which I could have never imagined even existed while I was an undergraduate student. In embracing my identity, I have grown more comfortable and honest throughout my life. I never expected higher education or student affairs as a field to guide me in the realization of who I am.
Josh
Graduate school was the most transformative period of my life, profoundly reshaping my relationship with myself. During the first semester, I encountered significant personal challenges: moving farther from my family than ever, ending a long-term romantic relationship, and navigating the financial strain of relocating to a new state. These experiences tested my resilience but marked the beginning of a new chapter where I took ownership of my goals and personal growth. The decisions I made during that time not only shaped my graduate experience but continue to influence me even after graduation
My graduate school journey was marked by challenges and triumphs, but one of the most transformative elements of this period was the people around me. My cohort, faculty, and co-workers played a pivotal role in shaping my self-perception and helping me feel deserving of my place in graduate school. As a first-generation college student, I often grappled with imposter phenomenon. However, the encouragement of those around me and meaningful conversations with peers, faculty, and staff gave me the inspiration and support I needed to embrace my worthiness—a theme I will explore further in the support-system article.
During graduate school, one area I struggled with was maintaining my physical health and well-being. While I occasionally incorporated physical activity into my routine, an overpacked schedule often left little time for exercise or outdoor activities. This was especially evident in my final year, as I juggled numerous commitments and projects. These challenges motivated me to prioritize my health after graduation, and I now strive to include some form of physical activity or exercise in my daily routine. This shift has significantly improved my overall well-being, though I recognize there is still room for growth.
I also realized the importance of accepting where I was in my personal and professional growth, focusing on my own journey rather than comparing myself to others. In higher education and graduate school, it is easy to fall into the trap of comparison—especially when peers achieve remarkable milestones, receive accolades, and advance in their careers. Recognizing this challenge during graduate school was invaluable, as it prepared me for similar experiences in my professional life, where self-doubt can easily arise. Embracing this mindset has been crucial for my growth and resilience as a new professional.
Martin
Before diving into my reflections on my journey through grad school, it is important to provide some context about who I am and where I come from. I am a first-generation Mexican American, and an oldest sibling who was born and raised in Southern California. I moved across the country to Tallahassee, Florida for graduate school, and the experience was both exciting and overwhelming. Leaving home meant stepping into a completely new environment. This type of experience is not one where you move and familiarize yourself with a new area. It was familiarizing myself with new culture, new people, new weather, and almost any other form of change you can think of and with that came the inevitable culture shock.
At first, I thought that moving to a place so different from my home would take away from the things I hold dear—my Mexican culture, my community, and my sense of self. I was the only man of color in my cohort and the only person of color in my work environment which sometimes felt isolating. It made things difficult when participating in group projects, looking for mentors, or even creating relationships. There were times when peers would say things in class and they would go right over my head because I simply could not relate and vice versa. However, considering my background and hometown I was definitely outnumbered. At first, I saw this as a barrier that was holding me back from my full potential in grad school. Then I looked at these challenges as opportunities to break these barriers and educate others and show my perspectives on different aspects of Higher Education and life in general.
Everywhere I looked I could see the difference and how that challenged my identities as a Mexican American. Picture this, imagine walking into a grocery store and you see colorful piñatas and the sounds of Vicente Fernandez as you grab your groceries and when you check out the cashier talks to you in Spanish. In Tallahassee, my Mexican grocery stores turned into Southern English, Taylor Swift, and Publix. I never knew how much I appreciated those aspects of myself until I came to Tallahassee and my identity felt threatened. It was almost like I was in this constant battle of culture.
On the West Coast, I had a community, but in the South it was different. For the first time in my life I received comments from people who – in the nicest way that I can put it – showed a lack of understanding or respect of my identity and culture. Instead of being infuriated, it made me fall deeper in love with myself and gave me the clarity I needed for my future. Ironically, I felt a bit guilty. Of all the people in my community, why am I the one who gets the opportunity to go and get a graduate degree? This sparked a passion in serving underrepresented students because the way that my sense of self was challenged by leaving home, I know there are more students out there who are going through similar situations of imposter phenomenon.
Savanna
For much of my life, I wrestled with the challenge of understanding my true sense of self, often feeling adrift and uncertain about my identity. I could describe the things that made me happy or the activities I enjoyed, but when it came to understanding who I was at my core, I felt lost. However, my time in graduate school became a transformative chapter—one that set me on a path of self-discovery. Through academic and professional challenges, moments of reflection, and countless new experiences, I began to uncover pieces of who I am while finding a sense of comfort in embracing uncertainty.
I am the first person in my immediate family to pursue and obtain a bachelor’s degree and the first in my extended family to pursue and earn a master’s degree. One of the aspects of my identity that I am most proud of is being a first-generation student. However, this sense of pride did not truly become a part of me until my first semester at Florida State University. I distinctly remember sitting in my History of Higher Education class one evening as we discussed what it meant to be a first-generation student. My professor explained it simply: “If your parents or guardians did not earn a four-year bachelor’s degree, you are first generation.” In that moment, it clicked—this was who I was. Looking back, it seems obvious, but at that time, it was a life-changing realization.
I am adaptable. Even if it takes time, I can make the most out of any situation. I never would have thought to use that word to describe myself, but looking back, it is true. I remember during my first month living in Tallahassee, I would sit in my apartment feeling so alone, like I did not belong, and questioning if I had made the right decision. One evening, I called my mom and opened up to her about how I was feeling—something that has always been difficult for me. She listened to everything I said and then replied, “I know it may feel like that now, but you are the most adaptable person I know. You’ll figure things out.” At the time, I shrugged off her words and continued to sulk. But as time went on, I realized she was right.
I am service-oriented. Throughout my life, I have been engaged in service in one form or another. I was a Girl Scout, graduated high school with the most logged community service hours in my class, and became a brother of Kappa Kappa Psi, a service-based fraternity for college and university band members. Helping people is what fuels me—it is central to who I am and what I do. I chose this career field because it allows me to impact on students’ lives. Even if that impact is small, it inspires me to keep pushing forward. All of those activities mentioned before are what put me on this path of service, but graduate school solidified my need to serve others in a professional capacity.
When I first moved to Berkeley, I felt the same way I did when I moved to Tallahassee two years ago—alone, like I did not belong, and filled with doubt and uncertainty. But as I sat with those feelings, I thought back to that time and how much I ultimately grew and thrived there. It is okay to feel uncertain now because I know I will figure things out again. These experiences are what define my current sense of self.
Sydney
My relationship with myself has been one of the most complex relationships I have maintained over the years. As a black woman who grew up in a small town, white suburban environment, you can imagine the inner turmoil and work I had to put in to love myself. I instinctively refer to William Cross’ Black Identity Development Model (1971) as I was a textbook definition of this model in terms of how my identity developed. I wanted to fit in a society that was not made for me, constantly changing aspects of myself such as my hair, speech, dress, and body. I hid myself by being quiet, obedient, and agreeable to be likable, not knowing a different world outside of a small town.
When I went to college away from home, I started experimenting with myself and discovering what it meant to be me. I thought about reinventing myself, changing my hair, joining organizations I would have never joined, learning more about what it meant to be black, and speaking up about my feelings. All of a sudden, I wanted to challenge the norms and advocate for what is right from wrong. By the end of undergrad, I was sure I knew who I was. I was completely different from who I was when I came in. I was no longer shy, a proud black woman, and a leader on campus. I did not think anything could shake my self-confidence, and my relationship with myself was probably the healthiest it had ever been. I could not even fathom how much graduate school would challenge this confidence and relationship.
With any type of relationship, platonic or romantic, you go through ebbs and flows of positivity and health and toxicity and challenge. Entering graduate school, I was on my “high horse.” I was working in my top choice for a graduate assistantship, and my fellow staff members were everything I could have imagined when it came to fun and support. School, on the other hand, became my first challenge.
We had to read up to 50 pages daily for each class on top of work. I remember we received our first pop quiz, and I had to turn it in blank because I did not know any answers. As someone who has always done well in academics, I was devastated and disappointed that I could not keep up. Being academically driven was a part of my identity then, and I lost it after one quiz in the first semester. Other aspects of that relationship with myself that I tried hard to build up in undergrad started to disappear. Although some aspects of my self-relationship started to disappear, others were reinforced. I felt more comfortable speaking up in class, challenging thoughts, connecting with cohort-mates, and being prideful of the work I did in my graduate assistantship.
As my relationship with myself slowly changed, I experienced a significant event in my graduate school experience and professional career. My graduate assistantship was changing as every staff member received new opportunities to leave our office. Our professors do not lie when they tell us that higher education is filled with constantly transitioning roles.
On top of losing a significant support system, my new supervision and office environment was a more significant challenge. We do not talk enough about what to do if you have a difficult supervisor, especially as a graduate student. You are to be respectful as they are the professionals, and you are a student, not trying to burn bridges in your future career. However, you want to prove your knowledge and worth as an aspiring professional about to graduate.
When I started to experience ongoing microaggressions and was undervalued at work, I changed myself, inevitably negatively affecting my self-perception. As I went on, my work, identity and integrity was continuously disrespected; I had not realized how much I had changed. I returned to being quiet and obedient, forgetting about the girl in undergrad who stood up to intolerant behavior. Peers and staff started pointing out that I looked and sounded different. It took others to point out how my relationship with myself has deteriorated. From that day, I promised myself not to let anyone or anything influence my relationship with myself again. I eventually had the courage to leave that situation, but I am most proud that I left advocating for myself until the end. Even as a graduate student, I deserved better for my personal and professional growth.
Looking back, I am still reeling from how my relationship with myself was challenged through graduate school. Honestly, that relationship has been shaken, and I am still rebuilding my self-confidence and the self-love I experienced in the past. However, I needed this experience to prepare me for the full-time role. The experience has shown me what can positively and negatively affect my self-perception. These challenges have also shown me how to be intentional when finding people and places that can help grow my relationship. In some ways I am appreciative of this experience. It makes me okay with putting myself and my values first, no matter my experience or the challenge. The relationship with yourself is so important as it is the one relationship you have had since birth and will continue to have until death. It is important to cultivate it and not let outside factors affect it as if it were a relationship with another person.
Venus
Balancing personal identity with professional goals in graduate school has been a journey of intentionality and growth. While my professional ambitions are a significant part of who I am, they do not define me entirely. I have learned to set clear boundaries between work and personal life, ensuring that I carve out time for activities that bring me joy, like playing with the Marching Chiefs, reading, or spending time with my cats. These moments remind me of the passions and relationships that make up my full self, grounding me as I navigate academic and professional demands.
One of the most challenging moments in my graduate journey came during my first semester when my theory professor failed my final. It shook my confidence and made me question my capabilities in writing and whether I truly belonged in this field. Fortunately, I had a strong support system, including my friend Savanna and my advising faculty, who helped me process and reframe the experience. Fighting the grade, even though it did not change, was a turning point. I came to understand that doing my best is what matters most and that a single grade does not define my worth or potential. This experience taught me resilience and helped me handle self-doubt by focusing on my growth rather than any one outcome.
Through it all, I have found immense pride in balancing the demands of grad school with an assistantship, a part-time job, and involvement in student organizations. My time management skills have grown to wizard-level efficiency, allowing me to manage these responsibilities while still making room for self-care. I have come to understand that sometimes work is just work, and giving myself permission to step back has been key to maintaining my well-being.
The foundation I built during my master’s program has been a cornerstone of my success in my doctoral studies. It not only gave me a solid understanding of higher education but also connected me to an incredible network of mentors and peers. I know these relationships will continue to support me in the future, offering collaboration, advice, and inspiration for years to come. Looking ahead, I want to carry forward these habits and perspectives, prioritizing self-care, staying connected to my support network, and embracing the balance between my personal and professional selves. Graduate school has shaped me in profound ways, and I am confident that these lessons will guide me long after I leave academia.
Conclusion and Looking Ahead
As you can see from the stories above, we have a dynamic range of experiences that have affected our relationship with ourselves during graduate school. You might recognize similar experiences you have had as a graduate student, see common successes or challenges that you have seen in the graduate students you teach or advise, or gain insight into what your own self-relationship journey might look like in graduate school.
Our relationships have continued because of our shared experiences during graduate school. In one way or another, one of the best ways that we could navigate the two years in the program was through each other. In this post-graduation life, there are still commonalities that we are experiencing and can obtain support, motivation, and inspiration on.
As you plan, undertake, and/or reflect on your journey, we offer the following prompts: How has your relationship with yourself changed over your time in grad school? What significant events in graduate school affect your personal and professional development journey? How has your perception of self-changed positively, and/or how has your perception of self been challenged?
In the next two articles, we will move toward the relationships we developed and found impactful during the graduate school experience and at Florida State University. Then, we will share how the relationships with our support systems might have been maintained, sustained, changed, or strengthened.
References
Renn, K. A. (2008). Research on biracial and multiracial identity development: Overview and synthesis. New Directions for Student Services, 2008(123).
Author Bios
Gabrielle Ulate (she/her/hers) is currently a Student Government Advisor at Oregon State University. Her passions include supporting students through developing their own identities as leaders, alongside being an advocate for those discovering their identities within transracial and multiracial communities.
Joshua Burns (he/him/his) is a Program Coordinator for Student Leadership Development at Kennesaw State University. His passions include serving underrepresented student populations and student leadership development.
Martin Saldana, Jr. (he/him/el) is currently a Program Coordinator and Academic Advisor at the University of California, San Diego. His passions include serving underrepresented student populations and is driven by his work to increase equity and inclusion.
Savanna Perry (she/her/hers) is currently a Resident Director at the University of California, Berkeley. Her passions include recruitment and retention of professional staff members, student leadership and development, and adapting to an ever-changing field.
Sydney Pickett (she/her/hers) is a Coordinator for The Center for Leadership and Service at the University of North Texas – Denton. Her passions include working with students leadership and identity development, especially with students of color and other minoritized identities.
Venus Skowronski (she/her/hers) is a Graduate Coordinator for Housing and Residence Life and a Doctoral Student at Florida State University. Her passions include exploring the role of mentorship in career trajectories, supporting women in higher education, and advancing international education initiatives.