Towards the end of my college search, as I narrowed down my options and focused on fit, my mom raised some concerns about Georgetown. She did not attend a traditional four-year college, and we certainly didn’t come from money. She said that Georgetown was too “preppy.” Two years in, I’ll concede she might have had a point there.
Every year, Georgetown receives a higher number of applications than the year before for its first-year class, and every year, roughly 1,600 students enroll. For the Class of 2028, my admissions cycle, about 12% of students were first-generation college students, and approximately 15% were eligible for a federal Pell Grant, a government financial aid award given to students who display exceptional financial need. On the other hand, around half of Georgetown’s student body receives no financial aid, and around two-thirds receive no institutional aid.
Still, I countered my mom’s concern, contending that I’d gone to private school since kindergarten. I also knew that many of the schools on my list, including Georgetown, promoted support networks for students.
“There will be resources available if I need them,” I told her.
As it turned out, I was right. Since fall 2018, the Georgetown Scholars Program (GSP) has offered “Mastering the Hidden Curriculum” (MHC), a course primarily aimed at (but not limited to) first-generation students and those from low-income backgrounds. Offered to first-year and transfer students, MHC aims to equip students with the skills and institutional knowledge to navigate the university, with each section co-taught by two first-generation faculty members.
The 3-credit course is traditionally taught in the fall, but has been offered in the spring in recent years, and counts toward the university’s Pathways to Social Justice requirement. Registration priority is given to students in GSP, but other first-years can request registration permission from GSP directly.
GSP’s mission is “to work towards a more equitable college experience for first-generation and low-income (FGLI) college students” through community building, mentorship, and financial assistance.
I experienced that mission firsthand when I took MHC during my freshman year. Not every lesson was new to me, but nonetheless, I found value in sharing a space to reflect on my experience starting out at Georgetown while learning about resources I might have otherwise overlooked.
In education, the “hidden curriculum” refers to systems of unarticulated expectations students are expected to already know how to navigate, such as office hours, fellowships, research opportunities, and other academic advantages. The accessibility and comprehension of these unwritten rules are often shaped by class and, on another level, race. A 2016 Harvard doctoral dissertation revealed that surveyed first-generation Georgetown (and Harvard) sophomores were more than twice as likely as their peers to report feeling less prepared.
“The goal of the course is to cultivate a vibrant academic community where students can explore what it means to be a first-generation or limited-income student at Georgetown alongside peers and professors who also share these identities,” Missy Foy (CAS ’03), GSP’s executive director, said.
According to Foy, the course curriculum was designed in collaboration with GSP students, first-generation faculty, and Georgetown’s Red House, the university’s hub for educational research and design. Over the years, other colleges and universities have requested the course syllabus from Georgetown to adapt.
Professor Benjamin Cheng, an adjunct professor at Georgetown University Law Center and a first-generation college graduate, has taught a section of MHC since 2019, partially because he lacked a similar resource during his undergraduate years.
“I could have been better equipped to navigate my first year had I had the tools that MHC gives these students,” Cheng said. “That’s why I keep teaching it. I don’t think there’s going to be a shortage of FGLI-identifying students that are coming in, and it’s really my privilege to be able to walk with the new cohort of students every year.”
One way MHC seeks to bridge the preparedness gap—whether real or internally perceived—between first-years is by making students aware of available tools and resources for their success.
“A lot of times students just look to each other; but the administration, the services, the professors, we’re at the university for a reason: because we care about students,” Cheng said. “The sooner they realize that we’re there for them, and they can lean on us and go to us with questions, with issues, the better. And if we don’t have the answer, the quicker we can connect them to good resources that could really help them out.”
When I took MHC, my peers and I heard from Academic Resource Center (ARC) staff and received a one-pager from the teaching team outlining campus resources. Among them were the Center for Multicultural Equity and Access (CMEA) Book Co-Op Library, which lends books to students free of charge, the Hoya Hub, a free food and toiletry pantry located in Leavey 418, and the Writing Center, which offers peer writing assistance and tutoring. I’ve gotten lucky more than once after checking the CMEA’s library for a textbook and finding exactly what I needed.
“The resources at Georgetown are vast and usually untapped—don’t underestimate what the school can provide,” Cheng insisted.
Some class sessions focused on self-advocacy; in others, we discussed effective communication, faculty expectations, how to ask for help when struggling academically, and what exactly office hours are.
In my experience, some sessions were more helpful than others. Having attended private school all of my life, I benefited from small class sizes and close relationships with teachers; I already felt comfortable interacting with them in the classroom or during office hours. It made sense that parts of the curriculum weren’t groundbreaking for me—some of it was never “hidden” for me to begin with.
In class, I learned that my situation was not unique. Just as I began to wonder if some of this material was applicable to me, our professors assigned an article by Dr. Anthony Jack. It discussed how some students, regardless of class, arrive on campus already familiar with the unwritten rules of higher education because of their prior educational experiences. Other students enter college with neither economic privilege nor prior exposure to those institutional norms.
Looking back, that experience was a testament to how thoughtfully the curriculum was designed—I remember appreciating how the MHC curriculum paired resource visibility with the theory behind our identities.
“It’s not just telling you what resources are on campus, but also understanding sociological theory,” Cheng said. “Putting words to feelings that you didn’t know how to express.”
Georgetown alumnus Aidan Ng (SFS ’25) was in Professor Cheng’s section in his first year at Georgetown. More than four years later, he still remembers lessons on non-financial social assets, taught through scholarly articles and class discussions.
“I think the thing I took away the most was probably the lesson on cultural capital,” Ng said. “I remember a big focus of the class was emphasizing not what you lacked, but what you had as an advantage, given one’s background growing up as lower income, for example.”
Cultural capital refers to the knowledge, skills, and cultural experiences individuals acquire from their family and community. Scholars argue that the dominant form of cultural capital in colleges often reflects middle-class norms and behavior, which can leave working-class youth at a distinct disadvantage.
Ng, however, recalls how he and his classmates were encouraged by their professors to focus on the strengths and cultural capital they had gained through their lived experiences, rather than compare themselves to their peers.
“That mindset shift was really important because there were a lot of things that I could draw from—there is that level of resilience that you get from growing up in a lower-income background,” Ng said. “I think that emphasizing that as a positive instead of as a negative is super useful.”
For Ng, the individuals teaching these points were just as powerful. Beyond the actual lessons, the community atmosphere allowed him to get comfortable interacting with his professors on a personal level, helping him realize that “professors are people too.”
Foy seconded this belief, saying the shared identity between students and professors makes the MHC environment unique.
“That connection provides the foundation for students to explore and unpack the hidden norms and expectations of the academy through inquiry, dialogue, and storytelling,” Foy said.
Ray Shiu, one of my MHC professors, said he enjoys teaching the course because of the “community of support” he is able to help build with students. In office hours, I opened up to Shiu and Dean Kendra Billingslea, my section’s second professor, about adjusting to dorm life, how my classes were going, and family back home. It felt refreshing, as I didn’t expect to have the same informal conversations with professors as I might have had with teachers in high school.
Cheng also emphasized togetherness, stating that a student’s first year of college is “all about building community and making bonds,” an objective MHC helps facilitate.
“That’s exactly what I think this class is about,” Cheng said. “Without community, the class wouldn’t be what it is.”
A year after graduating, Ng continues to reflect on his days as an MHC student: the community atmosphere, support, and mentorship of his professors, Cheng and Dr. Judith Pérez-Caro. That experience is part of why he decided to give back to the course that helped shape his first year at Georgetown, returning as a mentor.
In my freshman fall, when I took MHC, Ng was one of two Class Assistants (CAs) for my section, helping foster the sense of authentic community that defined the course. As it happens, “Authentic Community” was also the name of every Tuesday session, when the CAs led class and created space for topical conversations in our professors’ absence.
Once a week, for an hour or so, we had a set time to talk, or simply listen, to our community. Some discussions provided tangible advice, like tips for reading dense scholarly articles or which classes to take the next semester. Other conversations centered on homesickness and responsibilities left at home. I remember reflecting on Georgetown’s pre-professional culture, the flashy displays of wealth around campus, and how we navigated them.
In one key session, we confronted imposter syndrome: the feeling that one’s successes are a result of luck rather than ability, a phenomenon that can lead to serious self-doubt.
I should note that imposter syndrome is not restricted to first-generation or low-income students, and neither is MHC. I’ve met students who do not identify as first-generation or low-income, but took the class and still found value in it.
“I think students have their eyes opened when they realize that they have [imposter syndrome], but then they’re able to talk about it and share their stories,” Cheng said.
At its core, MHC provides first-year students with a space to learn about available resources and begin building a network of on-campus support that includes people who have navigated many of the same challenges. In doing so, it breaks the cycle of expecting students to figure out how to navigate college entirely on their own after they arrive.
It’s normal for a Georgetown student to think they know everything. It’s also normal for any new college student to be scared and overwhelmed that they don’t. MHC bridges that gap, equipping students with the skills and network necessary to help navigate their first year.
60°F
New Student Issue
“Authentic Community”: GSP’s ‘Mastering the Hidden Curriculum’ centers FGLI experiences
By Justin Higgins
August 25, 2026
Towards the end of my college search, as I narrowed down my options and focused on fit, my mom raised some concerns about Georgetown. She did not attend a traditional four-year college, and we certainly didn’t come from money. She said that Georgetown was too “preppy.” Two years in, I’ll concede she might have had a point there.
Every year, Georgetown receives a higher number of applications than the year before for its first-year class, and every year, roughly 1,600 students enroll. For the Class of 2028, my admissions cycle, about 12% of students were first-generation college students, and approximately 15% were eligible for a federal Pell Grant, a government financial aid award given to students who display exceptional financial need. On the other hand, around half of Georgetown’s student body receives no financial aid, and around two-thirds receive no institutional aid.
Still, I countered my mom’s concern, contending that I’d gone to private school since kindergarten. I also knew that many of the schools on my list, including Georgetown, promoted support networks for students.
“There will be resources available if I need them,” I told her.
As it turned out, I was right. Since fall 2018, the Georgetown Scholars Program (GSP) has offered “Mastering the Hidden Curriculum” (MHC), a course primarily aimed at (but not limited to) first-generation students and those from low-income backgrounds. Offered to first-year and transfer students, MHC aims to equip students with the skills and institutional knowledge to navigate the university, with each section co-taught by two first-generation faculty members.
The 3-credit course is traditionally taught in the fall, but has been offered in the spring in recent years, and counts toward the university’s Pathways to Social Justice requirement. Registration priority is given to students in GSP, but other first-years can request registration permission from GSP directly.
GSP’s mission is “to work towards a more equitable college experience for first-generation and low-income (FGLI) college students” through community building, mentorship, and financial assistance.
I experienced that mission firsthand when I took MHC during my freshman year. Not every lesson was new to me, but nonetheless, I found value in sharing a space to reflect on my experience starting out at Georgetown while learning about resources I might have otherwise overlooked.
In education, the “hidden curriculum” refers to systems of unarticulated expectations students are expected to already know how to navigate, such as office hours, fellowships, research opportunities, and other academic advantages. The accessibility and comprehension of these unwritten rules are often shaped by class and, on another level, race. A 2016 Harvard doctoral dissertation revealed that surveyed first-generation Georgetown (and Harvard) sophomores were more than twice as likely as their peers to report feeling less prepared.
“The goal of the course is to cultivate a vibrant academic community where students can explore what it means to be a first-generation or limited-income student at Georgetown alongside peers and professors who also share these identities,” Missy Foy (CAS ’03), GSP’s executive director, said.
According to Foy, the course curriculum was designed in collaboration with GSP students, first-generation faculty, and Georgetown’s Red House, the university’s hub for educational research and design. Over the years, other colleges and universities have requested the course syllabus from Georgetown to adapt.
Professor Benjamin Cheng, an adjunct professor at Georgetown University Law Center and a first-generation college graduate, has taught a section of MHC since 2019, partially because he lacked a similar resource during his undergraduate years.
“I could have been better equipped to navigate my first year had I had the tools that MHC gives these students,” Cheng said. “That’s why I keep teaching it. I don’t think there’s going to be a shortage of FGLI-identifying students that are coming in, and it’s really my privilege to be able to walk with the new cohort of students every year.”
One way MHC seeks to bridge the preparedness gap—whether real or internally perceived—between first-years is by making students aware of available tools and resources for their success.
“A lot of times students just look to each other; but the administration, the services, the professors, we’re at the university for a reason: because we care about students,” Cheng said. “The sooner they realize that we’re there for them, and they can lean on us and go to us with questions, with issues, the better. And if we don’t have the answer, the quicker we can connect them to good resources that could really help them out.”
When I took MHC, my peers and I heard from Academic Resource Center (ARC) staff and received a one-pager from the teaching team outlining campus resources. Among them were the Center for Multicultural Equity and Access (CMEA) Book Co-Op Library, which lends books to students free of charge, the Hoya Hub, a free food and toiletry pantry located in Leavey 418, and the Writing Center, which offers peer writing assistance and tutoring. I’ve gotten lucky more than once after checking the CMEA’s library for a textbook and finding exactly what I needed.
“The resources at Georgetown are vast and usually untapped—don’t underestimate what the school can provide,” Cheng insisted.
Some class sessions focused on self-advocacy; in others, we discussed effective communication, faculty expectations, how to ask for help when struggling academically, and what exactly office hours are.
In my experience, some sessions were more helpful than others. Having attended private school all of my life, I benefited from small class sizes and close relationships with teachers; I already felt comfortable interacting with them in the classroom or during office hours. It made sense that parts of the curriculum weren’t groundbreaking for me—some of it was never “hidden” for me to begin with.
In class, I learned that my situation was not unique. Just as I began to wonder if some of this material was applicable to me, our professors assigned an article by Dr. Anthony Jack. It discussed how some students, regardless of class, arrive on campus already familiar with the unwritten rules of higher education because of their prior educational experiences. Other students enter college with neither economic privilege nor prior exposure to those institutional norms.
Looking back, that experience was a testament to how thoughtfully the curriculum was designed—I remember appreciating how the MHC curriculum paired resource visibility with the theory behind our identities.
“It’s not just telling you what resources are on campus, but also understanding sociological theory,” Cheng said. “Putting words to feelings that you didn’t know how to express.”
Georgetown alumnus Aidan Ng (SFS ’25) was in Professor Cheng’s section in his first year at Georgetown. More than four years later, he still remembers lessons on non-financial social assets, taught through scholarly articles and class discussions.
“I think the thing I took away the most was probably the lesson on cultural capital,” Ng said. “I remember a big focus of the class was emphasizing not what you lacked, but what you had as an advantage, given one’s background growing up as lower income, for example.”
Cultural capital refers to the knowledge, skills, and cultural experiences individuals acquire from their family and community. Scholars argue that the dominant form of cultural capital in colleges often reflects middle-class norms and behavior, which can leave working-class youth at a distinct disadvantage.
Ng, however, recalls how he and his classmates were encouraged by their professors to focus on the strengths and cultural capital they had gained through their lived experiences, rather than compare themselves to their peers.
“That mindset shift was really important because there were a lot of things that I could draw from—there is that level of resilience that you get from growing up in a lower-income background,” Ng said. “I think that emphasizing that as a positive instead of as a negative is super useful.”
For Ng, the individuals teaching these points were just as powerful. Beyond the actual lessons, the community atmosphere allowed him to get comfortable interacting with his professors on a personal level, helping him realize that “professors are people too.”
Foy seconded this belief, saying the shared identity between students and professors makes the MHC environment unique.
“That connection provides the foundation for students to explore and unpack the hidden norms and expectations of the academy through inquiry, dialogue, and storytelling,” Foy said.
Ray Shiu, one of my MHC professors, said he enjoys teaching the course because of the “community of support” he is able to help build with students. In office hours, I opened up to Shiu and Dean Kendra Billingslea, my section’s second professor, about adjusting to dorm life, how my classes were going, and family back home. It felt refreshing, as I didn’t expect to have the same informal conversations with professors as I might have had with teachers in high school.
Cheng also emphasized togetherness, stating that a student’s first year of college is “all about building community and making bonds,” an objective MHC helps facilitate.
“That’s exactly what I think this class is about,” Cheng said. “Without community, the class wouldn’t be what it is.”
A year after graduating, Ng continues to reflect on his days as an MHC student: the community atmosphere, support, and mentorship of his professors, Cheng and Dr. Judith Pérez-Caro. That experience is part of why he decided to give back to the course that helped shape his first year at Georgetown, returning as a mentor.
In my freshman fall, when I took MHC, Ng was one of two Class Assistants (CAs) for my section, helping foster the sense of authentic community that defined the course. As it happens, “Authentic Community” was also the name of every Tuesday session, when the CAs led class and created space for topical conversations in our professors’ absence.
Once a week, for an hour or so, we had a set time to talk, or simply listen, to our community. Some discussions provided tangible advice, like tips for reading dense scholarly articles or which classes to take the next semester. Other conversations centered on homesickness and responsibilities left at home. I remember reflecting on Georgetown’s pre-professional culture, the flashy displays of wealth around campus, and how we navigated them.
In one key session, we confronted imposter syndrome: the feeling that one’s successes are a result of luck rather than ability, a phenomenon that can lead to serious self-doubt.
I should note that imposter syndrome is not restricted to first-generation or low-income students, and neither is MHC. I’ve met students who do not identify as first-generation or low-income, but took the class and still found value in it.
“I think students have their eyes opened when they realize that they have [imposter syndrome], but then they’re able to talk about it and share their stories,” Cheng said.
At its core, MHC provides first-year students with a space to learn about available resources and begin building a network of on-campus support that includes people who have navigated many of the same challenges. In doing so, it breaks the cycle of expecting students to figure out how to navigate college entirely on their own after they arrive.
It’s normal for a Georgetown student to think they know everything. It’s also normal for any new college student to be scared and overwhelmed that they don’t. MHC bridges that gap, equipping students with the skills and network necessary to help navigate their first year.
Justin Higgins
Justin Higgins is a junior in the College studying Government and Journalism and the executive news editor. He likes Yerba Mate, elaborate idioms, and talking about his hometown.
More: first generation students, Georgetown Scholars Program, GSP, mastering the hidden curriculum, new student issue
Read More
News
GSP is weathering the economic downturn. But its sustainability remains uncertain.
By Paul James
News
A look inside GSP’s mentorship program
By Paul James
News
Georgetown students start mentorship club for first-generation high school seniors
By Bridgette Jeonarine