On April 27th, I will be graduating college with my Bachelor's of Social Work degree. I will be walking across the stage at Eastern Michigan University clothed in a flowing gown and matching cap, shaking the Dean's hand and trying not to trip. In that moment, I will become one of the 3% of students who obtain an undergraduate degree after leaving foster care (Casey Family Programs, 2011).

… Am I the only one that thinks 3% is a ridiculously low number? Former foster youth have overcome extreme obstacles, developed a supremely high level of resilience, and have been repeatedly put in a position where they had to exercise their ability to advocate for themselves. Why do only 3% of them pursue higher education, thus pursuing a higher likelihood of lifetime success? 

  I have a few ideas. I could talk at length about the systematic barriers, such as inconsistent educational records and/or curriculum between schools. I could talk about how difficult it is to focus in high school when you know you have court the following morning, or how hard it is to be the "new kid" - again (and how grades often suffer because of it). However, I think the greatest barrier for students from foster care is their own personal belief that it doesn't really matter if they succeed.

  That's one of the hardest parts about being from foster care, I think: you often don't have people to share your victories with. On April 27th, when I'm walking across that stage, I have no idea who (if anyone) will be watching me. I still have a relationship with my parents, and I could certainly invite them. They would be proud of me, in their own way. But I want someone in the stands who has seen me through the process and encouraged my growth. I want someone who saw me graduate high school, who held my hand as I mailed my college applications, and who rejoiced with me when I first read my acceptance letter. I want the person in the stands to know what program I'm in, the names of professors I've had a connection with, and which classes I've really enjoyed. I want whoever watches me walk across that stage to have seen me through my all-nighters, to have helped push me through finals weeks, and to be invested in my future. I'm not sure if that person is either one of my parents. Frankly, I'm not sure who it is, or if that person exists in my life. This is not to say I don’t have an extremely encouraging support network, because I do – but it’s one that I’ve had to develop in recent years.

  Youth do not encounter too many individuals while in the system that encourage them to pursue higher education. When and if they do, those interactions are often fleeting; youth in foster care often have multiple workers throughout their time in the system. I had... 5? 7? I can't even remember. When youth encounter multiple workers, placements, and schools, there is little accountability. College is hard. Merely applying for college is hard. Sometimes you need that extra push, and a lot of students from care don't always have someone to push them. This could ultimately prevent them from seeking higher education.

Another barrier is the expectation for youth in care. Look at the statistics of former foster youth: Many become homeless, have a child of their own before they're ready, become incarcerated, and/or rely on government assistance. I think success rates would be different if students left care armed with ideals of positive role models who also went through the foster care system, promising statistics of former foster youth, and the personal belief that they, too, can achieve those accomplishments.

  Earlier this month, I applied for graduate school. My hands were shaking as I pressed "send" on my laptop and they continue to shake each time I check my mailbox, hoping for an acceptance letter. As I was working on my personal statement essay for the application, I kept asking myself, "do I say I was in foster care? Will they judge me?" I am going into social work, which tends to be an extremely accepting profession. But even then, I worried - will my former foster care status set me apart from my peers in a negative way? I ended up including my foster care history in my essay, but not without hesitation.

  The most nerve-racking part about applying for grad school is: what if I get in? Though I certainly don’t want to be deferred, acceptance comes with a whole new dilemma – how will I afford graduate school? The one-year program I applied to is rigorous; students are encouraged to focus solely on academics while attending school. There are little to no resources for students from foster care that wish to pursue graduate-level degrees. ETV (Educational Training Voucher) stops when you turn 23. TIP (Tuition Incentive Program) - which I didn't even know existed until after I turned 21 - doesn't provide support to older students. I’ve heard of very few scholarships for students from care that provide funding for graduate school, which presents an additional barrier for foster youth seeking higher education.

  For the very first time in my entire life, I have decided not to let these fears and barriers stop me. I may be heading into a 2-year stretch of ramen noodles and selling my furniture on Craigslist, but I am going to attend graduate school. If I have to take out another $60,000 in loans, I'll do it. My motivation is not lacking, my resources are. I will apply for every scholarship I can find, pursue every work-study opportunity, and give up any and all expenses unrelated to school to pursue my graduate dreams. I have already had to give up a lot of my college dreams (such as studying abroad and being involved in university organizations), and I’m not going to give up this one.