Everyone knows the feeling of leaving something unfinished.
A half-written novel. A business idea scribbled into a notebook. A hobby abandoned after the excitement fades. In my own life as a documentary photographer, I’ve started countless projects that never fully materialized. Some stories lose momentum. Others wait years before revealing what they are really about.
Long before I understood the scale of it, I kept meeting people who had left college without a degree. I kept hearing versions of the same story: people would explain where they had landed in life by tracing it back to the moment college became impossible to finish.
Some had left school only a semester short of graduating. Others had dropped out years earlier after financial instability, family responsibilities, illness, addiction, or burnout interrupted their plans. What struck me most was how common the experience was – and how rarely it was talked about openly because of the shame attached to not finishing.
I met Aaron while on assignment at a homeless shelter in Santa Cruz, California, where he worked security at the front check-in desk. I met Alina while visiting my old boxing gym in Chicago. Dupree came through a mutual friend in Florida. And Sylvie responded to a Reddit post I made late one night asking strangers to share their experiences leaving college before graduating.
Today, 43.1 million people fallinto the “some college, no credential” category, according to the National Student Clearinghouse Research Center. The people in this project are different in age, geography and circumstance, but they share a common experience that has become increasingly American: beginning college with hope, and leaving without the credential they believed would shape the rest of their lives.
Aaron, 20, Santa Cruz, California
Aaron was 19 when I met him working security at a homeless shelter in Santa Cruz, California – one of the most expensive housing markets in the country. During a slow moment at the front check-in desk, we talked about work, school and the version of adulthood he imagined for himself.
Growing up, Aaron often felt out of place in school. He struggled socially and academically, describing himself as “a brown kid in rapper clothes” surrounded by wealthier white classmates. He fought often, spent time in the principal’s office and almost gave up during Covid. Still, despite the instability and isolation he felt growing up, college represented something larger to him: proof that his life could move in a different direction.
Aaron enrolled at Cabrillo Community College with plans to transfer to a four-year university and study construction management. In his first year, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. He began failing classes and eventually lost the financial aid he depended on to stay enrolled. Aaron’s parents had been forced to leave the area because they could no longer afford housing, leaving him to navigate adulthood on his own. Without support from family or a financial safety net, continuing school no longer felt possible.
On weekends, Aaron retreats into music. He has produced two autobiographical rap albums filled with lyrics about mental health, pressure and disappointment.
He now shares a large rental house with roommates and has enrolled in barber school in San Jose. He continues to work overnight security but now at a bus yard while building his skills as a barber, balancing school, cutting hair, and late-night shifts. “My schedule is barber, work, gym and that’s it,” he said, describing the routine that helps him stay focused on his goals.
Alina, 26, Chicago, Illinois
When I met Alina in Chicago, she was balancing far more than most people her age. At 26, her days revolved around work, childcare schedules and long trips across the city with her daughter, Aliana. Much of her time was spent moving between responsibilities: training young boxers at the Chicago Youth Boxing Club, working part-time at her daughter’s school and coordinating rides, train schedules and family obligations. A life built around persistence and careful planning.
As a teenager, Alina imagined something different. Growing up in a neighborhood marked by gang violence and drugs, she saw college as a pathway to a new environment and a new future. She had planned to attend Hawaii Pacific University, drawn to the possibility of distance and peace. But shortly before leaving, she learned she was pregnant. Instead, she enrolled at National Louis University in Chicago so she could stay close to home and raise her daughter.
For a time, she tried to make both worlds work. Between classes, a newborn baby, postpartum depression and a job that required nearly 30 hours a week, college became increasingly difficult to sustain. When the Covid-19 pandemic arrived, bringing further disruptions and unreliable internet access, the situation became impossible. After just one year, Alina left school.
Alina has channeled a lot of her energy into mentoring young people who remind her of herself. She began boxing in middle school after her immigrant mother encouraged her to learn self-discipline and self-defense, and coached young athletes facing their own challenges. She hopes to see more girls enter the sport, believing boxing can build confidence as much as physical strength. Because her childcare arrangement ended shortly after the school day, she often had to bring Aliana with her to boxing matches and training sessions across Chicago, weaving motherhood into nearly every part of her work.
Since photographing Alina, she has left both of the jobs she held at the time. She no longer works at the Chicago Youth Boxing Club and lost her part-time position at her daughter’s school due to budget cuts. Three months ago, she started a full-time job at a Chevrolet dealership, where she was able to purchase a car for $1,500 from a coworker. The car has helped her with her transportation challenges but her daughter told her: “Mom, I love our car but I do miss our walks in the city and all the adventures we used to go on together.”
A devout Catholic and proud daughter of Mexican immigrants, she starts most mornings with prayer and still speaks about finishing school and becoming a teacher someday. Like many people who leave college before graduating, Alina’s story is not one of giving up. The path she imagined for herself changed, but the desire to build a better future – for herself, her daughter and the young people she has mentored – remains very much intact.
Dupree, 42, Delray Beach, Florida
By the time I traveled to Florida to photograph Dupree, I knew he was running his own nonprofit, helping young people avoid the kinds of mistakes that can alter the course of a life. What I didn’t know was how closely their stories mirrored his.
Growing up, Dupree had few examples of academic success around him. Some family members dealt drugs, police regularly raided his mother’s house, and much of his childhood was shaped by instability. As a teenager, he attended Boca Raton high school and spent more time focused on having fun than thinking about college. Football eventually became his pathway to higher education, earning him an opportunity to play at a community college in Minnesota.
Like many young athletes, Dupree was focused on staying eligible to play rather than earning a degree. When his grades slipped and financial aid disappeared, he left school and returned to Florida. He drifted back into dealing drugs before eventually finding his way back to school and transferring to the University of Minnesota Duluth, hoping football might open even bigger doors.
Then life intervened again. The cousin he had helped raise was beginning to head down a dangerous path, and Dupree felt pulled back to his family and community. With only 18 credits remaining before graduation, he made the difficult decision to leave school and return home.
Today, Dupree channels those experiences into the EJS Youth Center, named after his father. He spends his days mentoring young people, supporting families and creating opportunities for youth growing up amid circumstances similar to those he faced. Looking back, he wishes he had finished his degree. But his story is also a reminder that lives rarely unfold according to plan. The education he never completed remains an unfinished chapter, yet the lessons he learned along the way became the foundation for the work he does today.
Sylvie, 43, Charlottesville, Virginia
I met Sylvie after she responded to a Reddit post I made asking people to share their experiences leaving college before earning a degree. While many people described financial setbacks or family responsibilities, Sylvie’s story was shaped by years of addiction, mental health struggles and repeated attempts to start over.
When I traveled to Charlottesville, Virginia to photograph her, I found someone who still loved learning despite her setbacks. Books filled the basement apartment she shares with her partner, who works as a carpenter, and their son beneath her mother’s home.
A self-described “artsy type”, Sylvie once imagined becoming a teacher or professor. But that path began to unravel after her parents divorced and the family moved from Arizona to Virginia during her teenage years. Struggling to adjust, she began drinking, smoking and acting out before eventually transferring to an alternative high school with only a dozen students in her graduating class. There, she excelled academically even as her life outside the classroom became increasingly turbulent.After high school, Sylvie enrolled at Virginia Commonwealth University, where she admits she was often more interested in partying than studying. Then tragedy struck. One of her friends died by suicide, and Sylvie was among those who found him. Already battling anxiety and depression, she spiraled and eventually dropped out.
Hoping for a fresh start, she later enrolled at Arizona State University, pursuing a double major in English and women’s studies. She dreamed of becoming a teacher, perhaps even a professor. But a serious motorcycle accident led to surgery and an opioid addiction that would alter the course of her life. Around the same time, she became immersed in the punk music scene, married young and left school for a second time.
The years that followed were marked by instability and reinvention. She moved back to Virginia, worked in restaurants and bars, earned a welding certificate and became a mother. Today, much of Sylvie’s energy is focused on maintaining sobriety and creating stability for her family. Recently, she applied for a union apprenticeship with an elevator mechanics local in Virginia, completed the aptitude test and interview process, and was ranked 70th out of roughly 200 applicants. As positions become available, the union contacts candidates based on their ranking. While there is no guarantee of when an opening may come, the apprenticeship offers the possibility of stable, skilled work and a new direction for her future.
What struck me most about Sylvie was not how many times she had fallen off course, but her willingness to keep imagining a different future. She still talks passionately about books, ideas and learning. She still wonders whether she will ever finish her degree. But like many people in this project, she is learning that unfinished does not necessarily mean over.
The four individuals featured here represent only a small portion of the people I met while reporting this project. Additional stories and photographs from Some College, No Degree will be shared through the Lumina Foundation website and social media channels.
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Rachel Bujalski is a documentary photographer and storyteller whose work explores community, resilience, and alternative ways of living. Her long-form projects focus on people forging lives outside conventional paths, revealing the many ways Americans create meaning, connection and belonging
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هلدینگ کاسپین استانبول | خرید ملک در ترکیه | صرافی معتبر ایرانی در ترکیه | خرید و فروش طلا در ترکیه | مهاجرت به ترکیه | واردات و صادرات در ترکیه | نیازمندیهای ترکیه | اخبار ترکیه | اخبار جهانی | توریست ایران | خدمات توریستی در ایران | تورهای گردشگری ایران | هلدینگ اول | خدمات کاریابی و فریلنسری و شغل | مرجع اطلاعات ایران (همه چیز در ایران) | کیف پول و خدمات مالی و پرداخت یار | اخبار ایران | تابلو زنده قیمت ارز در ترکیه و استانبول | صرافی آنلاین ترکیه | قیمت طلا و نقره در ترکیه | سرمایه گذاری در ترکیه | جواهرات در ترکیه | نرخ لحظه ای ارزها در استانبول | قیمت دلار امروز در ترکیه | قیمت دلار استانبول امروز | قیمت لحظه ای دلار | اخبار روز ترکیه استانبول | اپلیکیشن ISTEX | اپلیکیشن قیمت لحظه ای دلار و یورو و لیر و ارزها در ترکیه
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