Imagine a world where every student, regardless of their background, has an equal shot at a college degree. Sounds ideal, right? But here's the harsh reality: nearly a quarter of college students are both first-generation and from low-income families, facing barriers that make this dream seem almost impossible. Enter Boston College’s Messina College, a groundbreaking two-year, fully residential associate’s degree program designed to level the playing field. With a comprehensive support system, Messina is rewriting the rules for student success. John Yang visited the Brookline, Massachusetts campus as part of the Rethinking College series to uncover how this program is making a difference.
But here’s where it gets controversial: While Messina’s approach is transformative, not every institution can afford its $40,000 annual investment per student. Does this model risk becoming an exception rather than the rule? And if so, what does that mean for equity in higher education?
For Loukenscia Roberson, or Lou, a second-year Messina student, the program has been life-changing. After visiting the campus as a high school senior, she knew instantly it was where she belonged. “I came home to my mom and said, ‘This is where I want to be. This is where I feel like I belong,’” Lou recalls. Inspired by her mother’s health struggles, she’s now pursuing nursing, driven by a desire to ensure patients never feel alone in the hospital.
Messina’s unique structure is tailored for students like Lou. Launched in 2024, it guarantees a spot in Boston College’s bachelor’s program for students who maintain a 3.4 GPA or higher. With a 96% retention rate, the program addresses the unwritten rules of college life—office hours, networking, work-life balance—that often trip up first-generation students. “At first, I thought office hours were just… an office with timing,” Lou admits. “But when my professors explained it, I realized I needed that kind of support.”
Founding Dean Father Erick Berrelleza, himself a first-generation college student, understands these challenges intimately. “Twenty years ago, it was a sink-or-swim model,” he reflects. “Now, we know better. We can offer scaffolding of support.” This includes need-based financial aid limiting loans to $2,000 annually, free housing, meals, textbooks, and even laptops students can keep. “The residential experience is critical,” Berrelleza emphasizes. “It’s where students grow beyond the classroom.”
And this is the part most people miss: Messina’s success isn’t just about academics. It’s about fostering a sense of belonging and purpose. Students like Michael Melo, who worked 30 hours a week after his mother’s passing, find motivation in their struggles. “It ruined me but made me a better person,” Michael shares. Now majoring in applied psychology, he aspires to become a therapist, inspired by the resilience he’s witnessed.
Yet, Messina’s impact extends beyond its students. Professor Anthony Jack of Boston University, a first-generation graduate himself, poses a provocative question: “Have we extended the invitation without preparing for the occasion? Are we truly equipping these students to thrive as full members of our community?”
Messina’s small class sizes, closely monitored attendance, and extended academic year (July to May) create a nurturing environment. Professors like Brianna Diaz, also a first-generation student, guide learners through the “hidden curriculum” of college life—advocating for oneself, bouncing back from failure, and more. “It’s about helping them navigate the system,” Diaz explains.
Here’s the bigger question: Can Messina’s model be scaled? While its success is undeniable, the financial commitment is daunting. As Genevieve Green, Associate Director of Student Success, notes, “We get to know every student so well, we joke we know their blood type.” But is this level of personalization feasible for larger institutions?
As Lou tutors first-year students and Michael pursues his dreams, Messina’s students are already reshaping Boston College’s community. “These students are enriching the campus,” Berrelleza asserts. “Their impact will echo for generations.”
For Lou’s mother, Eveline, seeing her daughter thrive is a dream come true. “She will be a good nurse,” Eveline says proudly. And for Messina, Lou represents the transformative power of education—a power that could redefine the future of higher learning.
What do you think? Is Messina’s model the future of inclusive education, or is it a luxury few can afford? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation about equity, opportunity, and the true cost of a college degree.
