Chris Gray, Ph.D.
Founding President, Erie County Community College of Pennsylvania
I'm going to go a bit off script today.
Typically, I use this space to write about work-related topics: trends, higher education, workforce development, or the incredible growth that we are experiencing here at Erie County Community College. Those topics remain close to my heart, but recently I had an experience that has stayed with me and has me thinking deeply about the role each of us can play in shaping the next generation.
A few weeks ago, I participated in a Greater Erie Chamber of Commerce event alongside several other university and college presidents. The discussion was engaging and thoughtful. We talked about the opportunities and challenges facing higher education and our community more broadly.
At the end of the session, we were each asked a final question: If you could give one piece of advice to the local business owners in the audience, what would it be? The question caught me off guard, and I took a moment to think about how I should answer.
The other presidents, of course, gave excellent answers. They spoke about helping young people align their actions with their goals by developing talent pipelines and working to prepare students for the future. Their responses were thoughtful and practical. They were the kinds of answers that one expects executive-level higher education administrators to give.
As I listened and my turn to speak grew close, however, I found myself thinking about something different. Looking around the room, I saw business owners, bankers, managers, nonprofit leaders, and civic leaders. These are successful people — people with impressive careers and important responsibilities. And then I found myself reflecting on what I would have thought about that room when I was younger.
Growing up in a poor neighborhood, I would have looked at those individuals and assumed that they didn't understand me. That they couldn't possibly. I would have assumed they were fundamentally unable to relate to my struggles, not because they were bad people but because our lived experience was so different. I probably would have thought they were completely disconnected from the world I knew, and I likely would have checked out mentally if I'm being honest.
The older I've gotten, however, the more I've realized how wrong that assumption was. Many of the people who wear suits, hold leadership positions, and carry impressive titles have stories remarkably similar to mine. Some grew up with financial challenges. Some faced family struggles. Some doubted themselves. Some took winding paths to success. These are the unwritten stories, the ones that you just don't see on a business card.
So when it came time for my answer, I kept my advice simple:
Share your story.
Share your struggles.
Share your failures.
Share the moments when things didn't go according to plan.
Share what helped you succeed.
Share what you learned along the way.
Share because young people need to hear those stories, not because your path is the exact path they should follow, but because your story reminds them that success is rarely a straight line. If you can do it, so can they.
Just as important, listen to their stories.
Many young people today are carrying pressures that likely look different from the ones we faced when we were their age. Some are worried about paying bills. Some are feeling pressure from family expectations. Some have ambitious dreams that seem unrealistic. Others may be limiting themselves and aiming far lower than they are capable of achieving.
Our role is not necessarily to judge those dreams or fears.
Our role is to listen.
To encourage.
To ask questions.
To help them think through possibilities.
During the discussion, I briefly mentioned something I have struggled with throughout my career: imposter syndrome. If you're unfamiliar with the term, it describes the feeling that your success isn't truly earned. It's the persistent belief that you've somehow fooled everyone around you and that, eventually, someone will discover that you're not as capable, intelligent, or qualified as they think you are. They will pull back the curtain and reveal the imposter that is you.
Even today, there are still moments when I feel that way. I suspect I'm not alone.
In fact, I think many people who grew up in less-than-ideal circumstances and nonetheless found successful paths forward carry some version of that feeling. You spend years working toward opportunities that once seemed out of reach, and no matter what you achieve, there is still a part of you who never quite believes that you belong in the room. The irony, of course, is that many of the people sitting beside you are wrestling with the same doubts. In that room of many, everyone feels alone. That's another reason sharing our stories matters.
When we tell young people about our struggles, we give them permission to acknowledge their own. When we share our doubts, we remind them that confidence is not a prerequisite for success. When we reveal the obstacles we faced, we make achievement feel attainable rather than mysterious. We show them that we've been where they are, and that it's ok to have these fears. This is a very different philosophy than the one that many of us grew up hearing: "Suck it up. Walk it off. You'll be fine. No one cares."
Whether a young person dreams of becoming a social media star, expects to land a six-figure job immediately after graduation, or has dreams they haven't yet found the courage to voice, the best thing we can do to start is to listen. The next best thing we can do is share our stories.
If they are anything like I was, they may assume that you couldn't possibly understand them. They may think you've never struggled. They may think you've never worried about money, family challenges, failure, or self-doubt. They may think you arrived exactly where you are without setbacks or uncertainty.
But if you share your story, they might discover otherwise.
I've lived in Erie for five years now, and one thing I've learned is that many of us share a common aspiration: we want better lives for ourselves and our families. We want opportunities for our children. We want our community to thrive. Those values connect us far more than our professions or backgrounds divide us. We need to celebrate what unites us!
If we can model that openness, if we can share our journeys honestly, and if we can listen with empathy, perhaps we can make a difference. Perhaps we can inspire a young person who is searching for direction. Perhaps we can encourage someone who is questioning whether they belong. And perhaps, together, we can help shape the next generation of leaders who will make Erie County an even better place to work and call home.
Our community. Your college.
