By Viri Garcia Gallardo, Executive Editor
If someone had told my 5-year-old self that she would be graduating college in less than three months, she would have laughed in disbelief. Growing up as an undocumented student, the thought of pursuing higher education felt like a distant fantasy—an impossible dream overshadowed by uncertainty and barriers. But over time—despite challenges along the way—that dream became a reality, through grit and hard work.
As I prepare to earn my bachelor’s degree and apply to graduate school, I can’t help but feel that same sense of awe. What once seemed unattainable now seems within reach, proving that perseverance can turn even the most improbable hopes into real-life achievements.
I have always wanted to be a journalist—to tell the stories of people who were too afraid to speak up or couldn’t be heard. Journalism gave me a platform for my voice and a sense of purpose. With graduation almost two months away, I navigate an application process that feels just as strange and uncertain as college once did.
Applying to graduate school has been difficult in ways I wasn’t entirely prepared for. Although my parents earned their degrees outside the U.S., they couldn’t guide me through the system’s complexities here. I’ve had to figure out every step on my own—crafting personal statements, requesting letters of recommendation, and writing commitment letters—all while carrying the weight of self-doubt and anxiety. At times, the idea of it all seems paralyzing.
And I’m still just trying to make it to Commencement. Between applications, classes, work, and my responsibilities as the editor of The Bulletin this semester, it feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day. I draft essays late at night after long shifts, edit articles between classes, and squeeze in meetings with mentors whenever possible. My day planner is a maze of overlapping deadlines—Post-it notes cover my desk with reminders and my inbox is full of messages about school and work. It’s exhausting, and I sometimes wonder whether I can manage everything.
Then there’s the issue of where I’d want to go to graduate school. I’d love to expand my horizons elsewhere, but moving too far from home is unsettling. Huntington Beach will always be my anchor. A school like CSU Fullerton or Long Beach would serve my academic goals and allow me to stay close to my community and support systems at home. Starting in an unfamiliar place, away from everything that has kept me grounded, is a lot to consider.
Others might jump at the chance to go to school in a city full of new opportunities and experiences, but I am hesitant to leave the reassurance of home.
Some nights, I stare at my computer screen, feeling overwhelmed by everything I have to do. I start spiraling in my mind: Am I doing this right? Am I missing something important? What if I fail? The pressure builds, and fear or rejection takes over, making breathing hard. I’ll reread my statements and tweak every word to capture my story effectively. The “imposter syndrome” creeps in, whispering that I may not belong in these spaces.
In those moments, look to the people who once guided me—high school counselors, mentors, and past teachers who knew my struggles before I fully understood them myself. Their reassurance and familiarity offer a sense of calm, reminding me that I am not alone on this journey. They remind me that I have always found a way to continue, to push forward.
This journey has been filled with obstacles, but I remind myself that I have repeatedly defied the odds. Higher education once seemed unreachable, yet here I am. My experiences have shaped me into the journalist and person I am today and will continue to help me rise to the path ahead: no fear, regret, or surrender.
I choose to move forward, because if my younger self could see me now she wouldn’t just laugh—she would believe.
