Title: How I Fell In Love With Georgetown

Mariela Cruz-Suarez (SFS’28) is a Georgetown Storyteller from Los Angeles, California. She enjoys drawing, spending time with friends and listening to music. Her favorite insect is a ladybug.

If you know me, you know how much I love Georgetown. I’m committed to creating a welcoming environment as an RA. I’m currently taking a class on the origins of Georgetown’s Jesuit values, and you definitely know that I create written and video content showcasing what it’s like to be a student here.

Because of all this, it often surprises people when I share that, at one point, I genuinely considered transferring out of Georgetown.

I arrived on campus certain of who I was. In high school, I thrived. I was a top student, confident in classrooms and deeply involved in my community. I entered college believing that this version of myself would carry me forward without disruption.

Instead, my first semester unraveled that certainty. The breakdown began with a wave of club rejections. In high school, I was used to success. At Georgetown, I stayed up late pouring myself into essays and interviews, only to receive rejection after rejection. Each one felt as if my experiences and identity were being dismissed. 

At the same time, my confidence in the classroom began to erode. I initially felt out of place in an environment coming from a Title I high school in a low-income community. I became afraid to speak, unsure if I belonged, and frustrated by a discussion-based style of learning that I did not yet know how to value. For the first time, the space that had always empowered me, the classroom, became a source of self-doubt. For a while, I believed these feelings meant Georgetown was not the right place for me.

So How Did I Fall in Love With Georgetown?

Falling in love with Georgetown didn’t happen in a single moment. It began when I admitted that something had to change because I didn’t want my spring semester to look like my fall. This shift unexpectedly started at Loyola, a first-year retreat I attended mostly to escape campus. There, I was introduced to the Examen, a reflective practice centered on slowing down and paying attention. 

In the quiet of those two days, I realized I had been more closed-minded and, honestly, more immature than I wanted to admit. I was not fully open to my peers, to this new educational environment or even to myself. I had arrived with a rigid, unexamined idea of what success was supposed to look like, and I resisted anything that did not immediately fit into it.

I was so afraid of being judged because of my low-income background that I did not see how, in that fear, I was judging all of us. By assuming others would look down on me, I was also passing judgment on them and diminishing myself in the process. I projected my own insecurities onto others simply because our backgrounds were different.

That same closed-mindedness shaped how I approached my academics. I struggled to appreciate the value of discussion classes because I was fixated on whether I was gaining hard skills I could list on a resume, rather than recognizing the growth and perspective I was developing through conversation. I treated club rejections as proof that I did not belong, instead of as part of a learning process I had never really had to navigate before. Instead of allowing setbacks to challenge and refine me, I let them define my sense of worth.

The Examen forced me to sit with those moments honestly and recognize how fear had been shaping my expectations and confidence. 

From that point on, I committed to being more open. I made an effort to start conversations, say hello more often, reach out and invite others in and fully participate in Georgetown life.

My First Taste of Community

That openness led me to find community, most meaningfully through Ballet Folklórico Mexicano De Georgetown. The club was open-access, with no auditions or lengthy applications, just open practices and the opportunity to interact with parts of my culture I had not fully explored.

That fall, in late December, I performed in Revolución as an Adelita, a female soldier from the Mexican Revolution. Learning complex footwork and performing it on stage in front of hundreds reminded me of my abilities. If I could do that, I knew I could also speak up in class and grow into my new life as a college student. It became a place where I could rebuild confidence before carrying it back to the rest of my college life. Just as importantly, Folklórico connected me with people who continue to support, challenge and ground me.

How I Came to Appreciate the Classroom Experience

As my social life improved, my perspective on academics also improved. I took time to reflect on the value of my discussion-based classes and asked myself an honest question: if I was not learning hard skills, what was I learning? I realized that these discussions mirrored the skills I would need beyond college. If I can use a software tool but cannot communicate ideas, listen or engage thoughtfully with others, what value do I truly bring, not just to the workplace, but to any space I enter? Technology can be easily learned, but developing the ability to speak and navigate diverse perspectives takes time. 

As I moved beyond most of my core requirements from freshman fall, I began taking courses that more closely aligned with my interests. What I now value most in our education model is the emphasis on justice, regardless of the discipline. For instance, in my environmental science courses, we have not only discussed chemical processes but also environmental justice issues. In a recent environmental science lab on air quality, we analyzed research on how equitably air quality sensors are distributed across neighborhoods of varying income levels. In lecture courses, we engage in policy readings, debates and role-playing exercises that require us to consider people alongside science. 

This mindset now guides everything I do. At the center of each opportunity, I ask myself questions about justice. Does this uphold or diminish it? How can I turn this experience into one that serves others? Developing this way of thinking has deepened my appreciation for my Georgetown education and is a central reason I love this university. It is an environment that consistently challenges me to imagine and work toward a more just world. These elements also strongly tie into another reason I love Georgetown even more: our Jesuit values. 

My Newfound Appreciation for Jesuit Values

When I first learned that Georgetown was a Jesuit university, I did not fully understand what that meant. I knew it was a Catholic institution, which initially made me hesitant to apply since I did not consider myself a religious person. Still, learning that students could engage with faith to whatever degree they chose made me feel comfortable applying, assuming my involvement would remain minimal.

Over time, that assumption shifted. Through classes like The Problem of God and experiences I have mentioned earlier, I began to understand Jesuit spirituality as a set of values focused on reflection, service and community.

What struck me most was how familiar these values felt. Long before Georgetown, they had shaped how I lived my life, from mentoring younger students to expanding access to STEM education and creating opportunities I never had myself. Recognizing that alignment helped me see Georgetown not just as a place I studied, but also as a community whose broader mission reflected my own commitments.

While I am still discerning what a relationship with God looks like for me, I do not need to be religious to value the Jesuit tradition. I admire its belief in education as a force for good and its emphasis on becoming a person for others. That appreciation is why I am now taking a Magis seminar to learn more about the Ignatian tradition, not because my beliefs have changed, but because my understanding of what it means to be formed by Georgetown has.

The People (of course)

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I find myself thinking more about my friendships. I realize now that ultimately, I fell in love with Georgetown through its people and the love they showed me throughout every phase of my time here so far. 

Jean always brings laughter to my days. Nathalie, the sun in human form, reminds me that there is power in softness, Gisselle and Guada inspire me to be more open-minded, Tati and Serhii teach me how to take better care of others, Daniel is one of my top supporters, Yoselin laughs at all my jokes, and Manuel and Isaiah teach me the joy of spontaneity. Kaylee shows me perseverance, Angela inspires assertiveness, Yasmin always makes me smile, and Ewa deepens my appreciation for diverse perspectives. Heather, Isabella, and Allie model the importance of reaching out first. Alessandra and Anabel help me become a better listener, Brooke teaches me how to stay calm, and Professor Qarni and Professor Helm helped me love the classroom again.

Most of all, thank you, Georgetown, for breaking me down, building me back up, and transforming me in ways I never expected. I am forever grateful and in love with you.