When conversations about college access take place, they often focus on students at the extremes. We talk about students from affluent families who have access to resources, networks and opportunities. We also talk about students from low-income backgrounds who may qualify for targeted programs, grants and support services. But there is another group of students that often gets overlooked. I know because I was one of them.
Growing up, I wasn’t the student who seemed destined to struggle, nor was I the student with every advantage. My family worked hard, valued education, relied on our public schools and our community, yet I often found myself navigating educational challenges that weren’t immediately visible to others.
As a young student with dyslexia, I learned early that my educational journey would look different. Reading wasn’t effortless. Processing information sometimes took longer. There were moments when I questioned my abilities simply because my path didn’t look like the paths of my peers. What made the difference wasn’t a single program or intervention. It was people.
Teachers who saw potential before I saw it in myself. School staff who provided support. Community resources that existed, even when I didn’t fully understand how to access them. Looking back, many of the tools I needed were already present within my community. The challenge was knowing where to find them and having someone help connect the dots. Today, as a higher education professional, I see a similar pattern playing out every day.
We often assume that access begins and ends with affordability. Affordability is certainly important. Scholarships, promise programs, financial aid and emergency assistance can be life changing, but access is also about awareness.
It’s about knowing opportunities exist. It’s about understanding processes that may seem obvious to those who work in higher education but can feel overwhelming to students and families navigating them for the first time. It’s about having someone explain FAFSA, registration, degree pathways, career options and transfer opportunities in a way that feels approachable. Many of the students I encounter are not facing a lack of opportunity. They are facing a lack of connection to opportunity.
The information, programs and resources exist, yet there is often a gap between what institutions offer and what students know how to access. This is especially true for what I think of as the students in the middle. These are students who may not qualify for every specialized support program but still face significant barriers. Students whose families are working hard but may not know how to navigate higher education. Students who are balancing responsibilities, uncertainty and self-doubt while trying to determine whether college is even for them.
When institutions focus solely on affordability, we risk overlooking these students. We must also focus on navigation, belonging and helping students see themselves in spaces they may have never imagined occupying. This belief has shaped much of my work. Whether through promise initiatives, community outreach, enrollment support or student success efforts, I have become increasingly convinced that one of the most important things we can do is meet students where they are.
Sometimes that means bringing services into the community or simplifying complicated processes. It could be creating opportunities for students to ask questions they are afraid to ask. And sometimes it simply means helping a student recognize that support is available and that they deserve to use it. My experience with dyslexia taught me that success is rarely the result of individual determination alone. Success is often built through networks of support, guidance and opportunity. The same is true for the students we serve today.
If higher education is serious about expanding access, we must broaden how we define it. Access is not only about reducing costs. It’s helping students find their way and navigate systems that were not designed with everyone in mind. It’s ensuring opportunity is not just available but visible. Because for many students, the greatest barrier is not the absence of resources; it’s not knowing that those resources were meant for them in the first place.