As I prepare to graduate from CSUN, I’ve found myself reflecting on the past four years – not just on what I’ve learned, but on how I’ve been supported and where that support fell short.

I’ve been fortunate enough to graduate on time, have met wonderful friends and had the much-needed experience of higher education. However, at the same time, it’s been difficult reminiscing about my time on this campus with positivity.

That contradiction – gratitude mixed with disappointment – feels familiar, not just to me, but to many students who have spent years navigating this campus.

For many of us, CSUN initially represented possibility, especially as new students navigated college for the first time. There’s a learning curve that comes with stepping into a completely new environment: figuring out where to go, who to ask for help and how to manage independence in a way high school never really prepares you for.

Certain staff and campus resources created a sense of stability, making it easier to ask for help, find guidance and adjust to college life. But over time, that sense of support began to feel less consistent to me.

The gap between what students are told exists and what they actually experience becomes more noticeable the longer you stay. What once felt reliable can begin to feel conditional or harder to access when it matters the most.

I experienced that firsthand during my freshman year, when I went through a severe mental health episode and sought support through school services. Like many students who are encouraged to do so, I reached out because I believed help would be available. Instead, I was told that the counseling services “were not equipped to assist” me.

That moment changed the way I viewed student support on this campus. Resources can look reassuring from the outside, but they fell short during a genuine moment of crisis.

The common disconnect between what students are promised and what they experience isn’t limited to mental health or academic support; it extends to other parts of student life, including safety and basic living conditions.

Student housing policies can add another layer of frustration, especially when students are already navigating financial and personal stress. I was initially told that canceling my meal plan – which cost my family $2,700 a semester – was impossible unless I dropped out or moved out of student housing.

That response felt pretty frustrating given the quality of the dining options. In the four years I’ve lived on campus, G’mos has consistently served food that I felt was poorly prepared and not worth the cost.

It wasn’t until I reviewed my contract that I found I could appeal with a doctor’s note. That lack of transparency creates unnecessary stress for students already balancing financial strain and academic pressure.

And perhaps most concerning is the question of student safety. In my own experience with campus police, I felt a lack of urgency and support in situations where I needed it most.

In October 2023, I reported being cyberbullied and harassed by fellow CSUN students, only to be told that nothing could be done because they were “exercising their free speech.” When I returned the next day to speak with another officer, I was placed on a 5150 hold and taken to a psychiatric hospital after I expressed that I felt unsafe and afraid of the students involved.

What made that experience especially difficult was the sense that my fear was not taken as seriously as I needed it to be. Rather than being reassured that measures could be taken to help me feel safer on campus, I was brushed off into a system that treated my distress as something to be managed rather than addressed. CSUN has a responsibility to ensure students feel protected, and when that trust is shaken, the impact can last far beyond the moment itself.

On-campus dining is another area where I feel the gap between cost and value becomes difficult to ignore. For many students – especially those who live on campus or commute – places like the Matador Mercado are necessary. But that convenience comes at a price that often feels excessive. Something as simple as a bag of candy can cost anywhere from $4.75 to $7, while the same item can be found off campus for nearly half the price.

For students already paying thousands in tuition, housing and fees, I believe these inflated prices don’t feel incidental; they feel exploitative. There’s an expectation that campus options may be slightly more expensive, but the Matador Mercado goes beyond that – it creates a system where students are paying a premium simply because they lack the time, transportation or flexibility to go elsewhere.

At a certain point, for me, it stops feeling like convenience and starts to resemble a form of normalized, even shameful, capitalism – one that takes advantage of a student body already stretched thin.

As graduation approaches, I find myself holding two truths at once: CSUN gave me an education, friends and experiences that shaped who I am, but it also showed me how often students are expected to adapt to systems that don’t always support them in return.

If I were asked whether I would recommend CSUN to a prospective student, my answer wouldn’t be simple. I would recommend it to someone who already understands how to navigate challenges – someone prepared to advocate for themselves, push through obstacles and make the most of what is available. But for students who are looking for consistent support, reassurance or guidance, I would hesitate.

CSUN is not without value, but it is a place where I think students are often left to figure things out on their own. For some, it builds resilience, but for others, it creates unnecessary hardship.

As I leave this campus, I think not only about what I’ve gained, but what could be improved for the students who come next. College should be more than something you endure; it should be a place where support is consistent and students feel valued.