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I have just finished my freshman year at the University of Chicago, a school boasting an annual sticker price of $80,000 and an acceptance rate of around 5 percent.
I don’t match the typical UChicago student profile. I lived in a single-mother household in a small Tennessee town for most of my life, my mom worked two jobs, and 50 percent of my high school graduating class didn’t go to college. God, family, and country were the pressing concerns of my neighbors, not top SAT scores or being valedictorian.
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