Helping Students From Underrepresented Backgrounds Means Listening First

By Carla J. (not her real name), College Coach

I’ve worked with students from all walks of life, but the ones who stay with me the longest are the ones who didn’t think they belonged in the college admissions process at all.

I remember one of my earliest students, Marcus (not his real name), a soft-spoken high school senior from rural Georgia who had a GPA most counselors would cheer for. But every time we talked about colleges, he looked away. When I finally asked him why he seemed so hesitant, he shrugged and said, “People like me don’t go to schools like that.”

That’s when I knew my job wasn’t just to coach applications. It was to help students rewrite the narrative they’d been handed.

The Weight of Being “First”

Many of the students I support are the first in their family to apply to college. Some are first-generation Americans, navigating two cultures. Others come from communities where education hasn’t always been a visible path to opportunity. For all of them, the weight of being “first” can feel more like pressure than pride.

I’ve learned that the first few sessions aren’t about essays or Common App strategies. They’re about trust. About learning how a student sees themselves. What they’ve been told they can—or can’t—achieve. The gap between ambition and belief is where most of the work happens.

Coaching Is Not Correcting

I once worked with a student named Aaliyah (not her real name), whose personal statement draft was a raw, honest story about growing up in public housing and caring for her younger siblings while her mom worked night shifts. She told me she wasn’t sure if it was “too much” or if colleges would think she was just trying to get pity points.

I told her what I tell every student: Your story is your strength.

Too often, students from underrepresented backgrounds try to erase the very things that make them compelling. They’re told to “polish” their narratives—to sound more like someone else. But my job isn’t to help them sound more like a college student. It’s to help them see that they already are one.

Seeing What’s Possible

It’s not enough to say “you belong.” I show students examples of others who walked similar paths. A DACA recipient now thriving at a top public university. A Somali-American girl who turned her love for coding into a summer internship and later a full ride. A trans student who wrote about building a safe space at their high school and now studies gender studies and political science.

Representation isn’t a buzzword—it’s a blueprint.

Small Wins, Big Shifts

Sometimes, the breakthrough isn’t getting into a top-tier school. Sometimes it’s just getting a student to believe they deserve to apply. To ask for a letter of recommendation without apology. To talk about their achievements without minimizing them.

I had a student last year, a Pacific Islander girl named Lina (not her real name), who used to preface every idea with “I don’t know if this is good, but…” By the end of our time together, she sent her final essay with a single sentence: “I’m proud of this.”

That’s the win I live for.

What I’ve Learned

If there’s one thing I wish every parent, counselor, and admissions officer could see, it’s this: the students we think of as “underserved” are often the most resourceful, insightful, and emotionally intelligent young people in the room.

They’ve had to be.

And when they have someone who listens first, who affirms their stories instead of editing them out, they step into their power. Not just in their applications—but in their lives.