Higher education was once seen as a clear path to success and financial stability, but a college degree is rapidly losing its value. With the rise of online learning, increasing tuition costs, and a market saturated with over-educated graduates without tangible skills or experience, the benefits of a degree no longer outweigh the investment for many students. The internet has decentralized access to learning and information. The monopoly universities once held is being dismantled, leaving mid-tier schools on the brink of collapse.1
While young people are noticing these trends and starting to wonder about the best way to achieve their goals and find their way in life, the decision to step off a well-paved path can feel intimidating. As a young student, I found myself on this college-bound track as well.
Like many naive high schoolers, I didn’t have a confident answer when asked by a well-meaning adult the inevitable question, “What do you want to do after you graduate?” I set off on the traditional college-bound path that I saw my peers taking. That’s what you did for a successful career, right?
The decision to take a gap year changed everything for me, opening up opportunities I hadn’t considered and leading me down a path I loved—without college.
I grew up in a small lake town in Northern Michigan. We didn’t talk about self-expression, gaining influence, or building wealth. Love for God and family, lifelong learning, working hard, and excellence in craft were the narratives of my childhood. The importance of learning was always emphasized, but not necessarily in the form of school.
When I was 15, I started writing down my goals for the years ahead. They weren’t grand or unachievable, but writing them down did something for me: every single one came to fruition. I knew I wanted to travel, create art, and learn about different cultures—but I had no idea how I’d pay for my intended life of leisure.
I loved learning, but at the same time, was dead set on fast-tracking my way through school. Eager to get on with life, I doubled up on classes and graduated high school a year early. My 5-year plan at graduation was simple: go to college and find a job that supported my desire to explore the world.
The reality of growing up in a middle-class family was that I’d be paying for my education either through loans or scholarships. The idea of going into debt for an education that didn’t guarantee a big income scared me. Despite this, after my planned gap year, college was still the plan. I took my ACT and SAT and had already enrolled in a local college to start chipping away at basic courses.
Graduating early gave me emotional freedom. I knew I wouldn’t “fall behind” my peers if I took a year off, and I felt at liberty to explore. When an opportunity came up to attend a language immersion school and volunteer at an orphanage in Mexico, I jumped on it.
The experience wasn’t easy, but it was effective.
Nearly every other student that semester had dropped out, but I stubbornly wanted to go anyway. My host family spoke no English, and teachers strictly spoke with me only in Spanish. Without anyone to speak English with, I had to quickly adapt to using the limited vocabulary I possessed to string together every conversation. My weekly Skype calls with friends and family were a welcome break for my tired brain, allowing me to speak without fumbling for words or conjugations.
At first, the experience of having no other students was isolating — but soon enough, I was having full conversations and making friends in the city. I remember the exact moment it hit me. I was sitting with a friend, chit-chatting about zoo animals, when I realized: I had done all of this entirely in Spanish. Not only had I learned to communicate, but I’d built a friendship, navigated to my friend’s house, and was now deep in conversation about some niche topic. I had done it! Life in Mexico suddenly felt a lot less lonely.
On weekends, I would catch a long, bumpy ride out to the orphanage. Nestled in the rural desert, we’d rumble past cows and thirsty-looking cacti for miles on end. Weekends at the Casa Hogar were always an adventure. I learned how to make cinnamon rolls for 110 children on a Saturday morning, including the essential step of removing scorpions from the sugar containers in the kitchen. I helped coordinate trips for relief groups from the States and painted murals on concrete walls. I got to see miracles happen—food provided by local farmers when there was none, lost families located to make adoptions possible, and border crossings for support teams that seemed impossible. My faith, awareness of the world, and ability to communicate in Spanish all grew exponentially.
The decision to make space for exploring my passions and interests paid off.
After the immersion school, I went on to teach English in Spain. Throughout it all, I continued to pursue my passion for photography, shooting weddings and portraits. Speaking Spanish opened doors for me—my first job as a personal assistant in New York and later as a design consultant in Mexico City.
The experiences of that year set the stage for places little Alivia never imagined she’d go, and I now look back on that time with so much gratitude. I was just doing the next best thing I knew—saying yes and asking, why not?—with a naive openness to the unknown. I thought there was only one way to get the life I wanted, but it turns out at 16, you don’t have it all figured out.