• I was accepted into a Ph.D. in economics program, which was a dream come true.
• But I was also offered a job at a startup that excited me, so I took the offer.
• The startup folded, and I'm unsure if I regretted the decision.

When I received an email saying I had been accepted into the university of my choice for a Ph.D. program, I cried.

Furthering my education had always been an important goal for me, but it was one I didn't achieve easily. I battled Graves' disease through my early college years, which meant I was in and out of the classroom. I constantly played catch-up, and never thought I'd graduate. Understandably, the thought of enrolling in a Ph.D. economics program was a dream come true.

I'm a forward thinker, so I started imagining my interactions with my professors and what kind of thesis I'd work on. Although the annual tuition fees would put a great dent in my pocket, I was determined to work for it. I would have to strike a balance between school, family, and side hustles.

But then I got an offer I couldn't refuse.

My friend was working on an intriguing startup idea

While I was still planning for my program that was meant to begin in early fall, I met a friend who talked to me about a startup company he started and was taking off faster than he could keep up. It was exhilarating, and he thought I'd benefit from the experience.

The company wanted to disrupt financial access in underserved economies, and it was doing everything from product development and data modeling to pitching investors.

This friend had always been a dreamer and succeeded in most things he put his mind to. As he assured me, the startup wouldn't be an exception, especially because he had channeled all his savings toward it.

However, he wanted to bring me on board because I had an analytical background in economics. To be honest, the pay he suggested wasn't great, but the opportunity was stellar with potential for growth in skills and finances. My role would involve leveraging my skills in data analysis and understanding market dynamics.

He suggested I take some time to think about it.

I decided to take the job offer

I went back home and spent the majority of my time online looking through the company pages and comparing them to others that were thriving in the same field. It looked promising, and I wanted to be part of something great.

However, the team required someone who would work in the office full time, and logically, I wouldn't be able to be present for classes and work at the same time.

After a lot of back and forth, I thought working for the company was a one-time opportunity, and I was leaning toward it.

I looked up deferral programs and decided to consult with my school to seek their opinion on deferring my course for a year or two and then rejoining. The department didn't have deferrals, and the dean advised against it.

But the faculty told me that I could reapply a year later. I thought, if I was accepted once, I could be accepted again, so I started working for the startup.

The job didn't pan out as I expected

Everything was great in the first half of my work year. We embraced a team spirit, brought a few clients on board, and were on a steady path to growth. However, somewhere in the middle, we lost the plot.

We struggled to fit some of the company's products into a market that wasn't ready, and, most importantly, we faced a severe lack of funding.

After a long time of trying everything we could, the startup folded.

Looking back on my decision

I had mixed feelings about turning down school. In some ways, I feel like a failure. I was depressed and sunk deep into hopelessness. I haven't reapplied to my Ph.D. program yet, and I'm not sure I will anytime soon.

In hindsight, walking away from an opportunity to further my studies so I could join a startup was a risk, but it was also a rewarding experience in itself. I gained immense experience and made connections I wouldn't have made in academia.

I learned what it means to build something from the ground up, even if it doesn't work out.

• I'm a teacher who started experimenting with ChatGPT.
• AI helps me create study guides, bar graphs, and quizzes.
• The technology will never eliminate all of my duties, but it's made me a more efficient teacher.

I was anxious the first time I dabbled in ChatGPT. That's probably an understatement. I actually feared that someone was watching over me, lurking in cyberspace, waiting to sound alarm bells when I typed a certain phrase or combination of words into the blank search bar.

I'm a journalist and journalism educator. I teach kids about sourcing and how to avoid plagiarizing material. In my media ethics class, I ask them to sign a contract saying they won't use other people's material.

So what the heck was I doing playing with AI? And what if I actually liked it?

Spoiler alert: I did, and it's kind of awesome.

ChatGPT has become helpful for me

Teachers have focused so much on how our students might use AI to cheat that we may have forgotten how it can help us in the classroom and at home.

I'm using AI (specifically ChatGPT) in practical, everyday ways.

I recently completed a 16-week intensive ELA and math tutoring program in our local school district. The material I was given for the program didn't work well for my kids, so I ran it through ChatGPT to make it more digestible.

With AI, I can customize my lessons — quickly. Tens and ones review? No problem. Bar graph with ice cream flavors? Done. First grade fractions? Been there, done that, too. I've even started playing around with Bingo designs for fun.

I'm also using AI to play teacher at home. When my 6th grader needs to review states of matter or the history of ancient China, we turn to AI together. ChatGPT whips up multiple-choice quizzes (with answer keys) faster than I can make dinner. The same thing goes for studying India's monsoon season. Once, I even asked AI to create a quiz on how to spot fake news.

I recently looked back on my ChatGPT history and realized how much I had used AI to generate study guides, like the one I made for "The Outsiders," by S.E. Hinton. My son got an A on that quiz.

I don't think AI will ever replace me

As much as I've come to rely on AI, I've learned that it isn't going to solve all my classroom conundrums.

For example, it won't comfort a crying student because he or she did poorly on a test and fears her parents will ground her. AI isn't going to help me decide when a student is sick enough to visit the school nurse. It's not going to help me figure out why a student understands one concept of math but can't grasp another.

But given all the complexities and challenges of being an educator right now, I'll take the help, even if it means double-checking all of the facts.

I'm leaning into AI, but cautiously

I still feel a little guilty when I ask AI to check a sentence's grammar or to eliminate redundancies in my writing. I'm not sure if it's because I asked for help or because the work is often great.

Still, ChatGPT has made me more efficient as a teacher. I can easily whip up study guides that benefit my students and tailor lesson plans to them. All of this frees up time for me to connect with my students more easily and focus on other tasks.

I'm glad I took a leap of faith, and I plan on exploring AI as it continues to grow.

• After graduating from Yale, I moved back in with my parents in a low-income building in Brooklyn.
• When I was growing up, I became close with all my neighbors who struggled with poverty.
• Returning home after living on an Ivy League campus has been confusing.

Four years ago, when people asked me which part of college I was most excited for, I always said having my own room.

Yale's dorms were a welcome change from the living conditions in my Brooklyn neighborhood. On the outside, the place my parents rented looked like any other two or three-family house, but inside, every floor was leased out to multiple families.

My upbringing was many things: love and a chorus of voices that included a Vietnam War veteran, four children, and an expert crocheter. They were all my neighbors — many of them low-income. Every evening, we gathered for communal dinners, sharing stories and laughs. But privacy was never part of the equation.

I left that environment for the private world of the Ivy League, living in dorms that radiated privilege.

And then I blinked, and last May, I graduated. After four years, I stepped out of the privilege, access, and relentless ambition that Yale had afforded me and returned to my family's Brooklyn home.

Moving home after college was a jump back to reality

When I arrived at my apartment after graduation, the first thing I did was hug one of the younger tenants, a 10-year-old girl I consider my sister. She waited for me at the door with flowers — a belated graduation present, she said. Later that evening, with her mother's permission, we took the N train to her favorite spot: Coney Island Beach and Boardwalk.

We had to make a pit stop at Coney's Cones, of course. Inside, she stood on her tiptoes, squinting at the selection of gelato and sorbet. "Eyeglasses," I wrote in my notepad of things to buy for her. I leaned down and whispered, "Don't look at the prices. Get anything."

Once we were seated, I asked how things had been. She told me that they were the same. At school, she enjoys math but dislikes writing, and the staircases in the projects still reek of cigarettes, but at least the neighbor's cat comes by once in a while to play with her.

"It's kind of lonely without you here," she suddenly blurted.

I tried to explain that I had to leave for college, that it wasn't about her. I wanted to say something — to fix her loneliness, her abandonment — but my mouth was just a home for my teeth. I reached for her hand, and we exited the café, heading toward the line to purchase Ferris wheel tickets.

I couldn't help grow solemn. The sad reality of building relationships with other tenants is that there is nothing more we wish than to see each other leave the situation we find ourselves in. No one wishes to live in the projects forever. This means saying goodbye at some point — and leaving loved ones behind.

I'm now thinking more about what it meant to be at Yale

An elite education doesn't guarantee stability or a sense of belonging, especially not for first-generation graduates navigating the job market. We often lack a safety net and carry the weight of family responsibilities. What my Ivy League education does offer is a chance: the foundation to build a future for myself and my family.

Still, many of my neighbors and friends remain where they've always been, caught in cycles of poverty, domestic trauma, and systemic injustice. The pandemic only further crippled those living at or under the poverty line.

College was never the finish line. It was the beginning of a more complicated story — one in which I must navigate ambition with memory, privilege with purpose, and personal advancement with a renewed commitment to support others in my community through their struggles, especially those without access to open doors.

But the truth is, it took a village for me to get to Yale, and many of my greatest supporters were not related to me by blood.

I'm trying to reconcile my future with my family's and neighbors'

Inside the Ferris wheel gondola, just as we were about to reach the top, my apartment-mate proudly took out a fluffy purse that I had bought for her 8th birthday. It was heavy, full of coins. She told me that her mother began paying her 50 cents for taking out the trash or washing the dishes, and one of our neighbors occasionally hires her to water his plants.

"Wow, you're rich," I said, nudging her playfully.

We laughed, and the setting sun caught our faces. In the distance, the waves rolled back and forth, and I wondered how many more times I'd get to share these moments with her before the world pulled us apart again. I won't let it.

• Emma Bayer of Georgia has been applying for scholarships since 9th grade.
• She's secured a lot of in funding, enough to pay for two years of college.
• When her dad died unexpectedly, the scholarship funds gave her peace of mind.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with college student Emma Bayer. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I was never worried about paying for college. I'm an only child, and was the only grandchild until I was 15. I knew that my extended family would help me pay for college. My parents and extended family felt that college was important in order to have a career, not just a job.

Yet, I've always been someone who is driven. I like doing things that are worth my time and effort. I realized early on that applying for scholarships would pay off — both figuratively and literally.

Today, I've secured more than 20 scholarships, which is enough to pay for at least my first two years of college. I'm studying equine barn design and farming infrastructure, and just finished up my freshman year. Although I'm now working toward my degree, I'm still applying for scholarships and hoping to get more.

I started applying in the 9th grade

Early on I knew that scholarships would be available through organizations that I was part of, like Girl Scouts and H4. Once that was on my radar I started joining organizations that had scholarship opportunities, like the National Society of High School Scholars.

I won my first scholarships my freshman year of high school, through a local youth organization. They were worth $300 and $500 — not the biggest sum, but those little amounts added up.

Receiving those scholarships upped my motivation. When you see yourself succeed and know that's an investment in your future, it makes you want to apply yourself.

I spent hundreds of hours applying for scholarships

Throughout high school I applied for more and more scholarships, reaching a peak my junior and senior years.

Senior year, I applied for more than 70 scholarships; during my freshman year of college I applied for about 40 more. I have a spreadsheet with deadlines, reward amounts, and application requirements.

I've spent hundreds of hours applying for scholarships. Sometimes that impacted the time I spend with friends. Still, the sacrifice was worth it. I really saw the value in what I was doing.

By the time I started my freshman year at Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College, I had enough scholarship funding to cover tuition, plus room and board.

That removed so much pressure; I didn't have to worry about finding a job or cutting costs because I had already put in the work.

Scholarships gave me peace of mind after my dad died

During my freshman year, my dad died unexpectedly. It was devastating. I decided to transfer to Kennesaw State University and live at home for my sophomore year. It was just too hard being away from my family after my dad died.

Amid my grief, my scholarships gave me huge peace of mind. It was a massive weight off my shoulders, knowing that my first year of school without him will be paid for. I can focus on education, my horses, and healing, without having to fight to keep my opportunity for a college education.

The funding has been a confidence booster

Getting so many scholarships has boosted my confidence. It's not about my ego, but more about the fact that people are recognizing the work I'm doing in my communities.

It was especially meaningful when I received an athletic scholarship. As an equestrian, it was great to see my sport recognized when it's often overlooked for more mainstream sports.

I've realized there's a scholarship for everybody, especially if you're involved in your community. Applying takes work, but it's worth it. Student loans are such a burden, and for me, scholarships have meant that I don't need to dig myself a financial hole when I'm really trying to give myself a leg up by securing a college education.