My dad’s career as a policeman did not last long. He soon started a transportation business instead. My mom supported him by working as a seamstress at Levi Strauss &Co. to help with household expenses. Since both are hardworking people, the transportation business successfully flourished––my dad worked around 12-14 hours per day, weekends included. My mom stopped working and dedicated all her time to raising my little brother and me. They had a shared goal: give my brother and me the best education and world experiences they could––and they did. I am proud of my parents. I thank them for their support and companionship throughout my academic career. Because although they did not understand the world I chose to enter (academia), they have always persuaded me not to give up on my dreams. Mamá and Dad: thank you!

For as long as I can remember, I have enjoyed school. Close to our house in Ciudad Juárez, a retired teacher, whom we affectionately called 'La Maestra,' ran a small after-school tutoring service. I asked my mom if I could attend her escuelita––I needed help with math. La Maestra told my mom I did not need the extra assistance but allowed me to do homework there and gave me a special role: to assist her and the math teacher with the younger kids. Besides my quest to improve in math, I was also a curious child who constantly asked too many questions. I once asked, 'Mom, do remote controls perform magic? How do they turn on the TV from afar? To satisfy my inquisitive nature, my mom stocked our house with encyclopedias. I would read them to understand everything that piqued my curiosity. These encyclopedias, which nourished my why and how questions, and my fondness for anything school-related, were just the beginning of what would become a love for Philosophy. 

Before I expand on some of the systematic barriers I faced as a Latina, non-native English speaker, and first-generation student of philosophy, I must make two things clear. One, sharing and highlighting the systematic biases I experienced should not be interpreted as resentment towards my upbringing or as a complaint about my parents. Two, the barriers faced by first-generation students are not accidental. First-generation students’ hurdles around college's administrative, academic, and lack of cultural capital are a pattern of systematic biases (as Melissa Osborne explains in her recent book, Polished: College, Class, and the Burdens of Social Mobility). This is something that needs to change. 

Back to my story. Attending college was the obvious next step for a middle-class young woman like me. At first, I was excited and looking forward to attending law school. However, once I began my studies at The University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP), I discovered that I needed to learn not only one language (English) but two (the language of higher education). I learned that a four-year degree (along with the LSAT exam) is required to apply for law school in the United States. Thus, I assumed that majoring in criminal justice was a good idea. In a meeting with a general advisor for undeclared majors asked me why criminal justice. I told her my plans––Law School. She told me, I vividly remember, that criminal justice would not prepare me for the LSAT or law school due to my deficiency in writing, reading, and speaking English. Instead, I should major in philosophy, history, or political science––this is how I found philosophy–– because these majors would help me improve my English skills in writing, reading complex texts, and crafting persuasive arguments.

It was at this point that the hidden curriculum of higher education—the unwritten, unofficial, and often unintended lessons, values, and perspectives that students learn in school—first began to reveal itself to me. These lessons include norms, values, and beliefs that are conveyed in the classroom and in one's social environment without explicitly being taught. As a first-generation college student, I was often unaware of these unspoken rules and expectations. For example, I didn't know about the importance of building relationships with professors, attending office hours, or the various support programs available. The fact that this curriculum remained hidden from me longer than it did for my non-first-generation peers created a significant barrier, making it difficult to navigate the academic landscape and access the resources necessary for success. Most first-gen students discover or find out about these resources on the fly, if at all: this keeps us behind. 

At UTEP, I immediately fell in love with my introduction to philosophy class. My textbook was brimmed with notes and marked-up words, which I looked for their definitions and translation to Spanish. Despite earning a C in that class, I chose philosophy as my pathway to law school. In the end, however, what I really wanted was to learn more about philosophy of science and metaphysics, so I decided to do an MA in philosophy. Although I cherish all the knowledge and skills I acquired during my BA and MA, I felt very lost all the time––finding out about each step, expected behaviors, and implicit knowledge of many aspects of higher education along the way. Looking back, I now realize that my lack of awareness about what improves CVs, GRE scores, the importance of universities’ hierarchical ranking, and the role of reference letters from non-tenured professors caused me to miss many opportunities. Nonetheless, thanks to the encouragement of four professors, I moved forward and decided to apply to graduate school. 

I applied to 25 graduate programs, and only the Philosophy Department at the University of Kansas decided to give me an opportunity. My first year as a graduate student went great until I read my evaluations. Almost every professor pointed out that I had grammatical issues without talking about my philosophical intuitions. I felt a little discouraged. However, one professor—now my advisor, Professor Armin Schulz—saw beyond these issues. My advisor (and the placement director, Professor Eileen Nutting) explicitly detailed each of the steps I needed to take to become a competent PhD recipient. For the very first time, I did not feel lost and did not figure it out along the way. Being aware of what was expected from me allowed me to prepare and do everything they told me to increase my possibilities of continuing in academic philosophy. Long story short, I ended up as a postdoc at Stanford. I am now starting a new position as a postdoctoral fellow at the Leibniz University of Hannover. 

The things one can achieve with complete information! The hidden curriculum is often the Achilles' heel of first-generation students.

Nadia Ruiz is a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Center for Ethics and Law in the Life Sciences at the Leibniz University of Hannover.