‘Maybe college isn’t for people like you’

When Kristopher Acevedo learned that he had been academically dismissed from UC Riverside, he found himself in his counselor’s office, hearing a sentence that would stay with him for years: “Maybe college isn’t for people like you.”

Growing up in San Diego, the oldest son of six children, the word “college” was not a part of Acevedo’s vocabulary. As a standout shooting guard for Hemet High School’s varsity basketball team, it was through basketball that college became an aspiration. All he wanted to do was continue to play the game he loved, and playing at college, he discovered, was a way to make that happen. 

While Acevedo had several offers from colleges to play, he aspired to play for a Division 1 school. He was accepted to and attended UC Riverside not on a basketball scholarship, but on an academic one, but he was still determined to play. After open tryouts, he joined the team as a walk-on, and from that point on, basketball became his sole focus. That was, until he came home to find a letter pinned to his dorm room door informing him that he was being kicked out of school. 

It turned out that for weeks, Acevedo’s counselor had been emailing him to discuss his neglected coursework. His GPA had plummeted to 1.1, which made him ineligible for the academic scholarship he had been awarded. He sprinted to the counseling office. His counselor told him they had been trying to reach him for two semesters. She said it was too late to reverse his academic dismissal.

At first, Acevedo felt that maybe she was right. Maybe college wasn’t for people “like him.” But “all I could think about was my mom and not letting my siblings down,” Acevedo recalls. He turned to the internet and started to research ways to get back into college. He came across a few Reddit threads from students in similar predicaments. What he needed to do, he realized, was submit an appeal letter to the dean. 

When it came to writing the letter, Acevedo initially thought he could just make up a lie. Say he had a family emergency, health issues, anything. But in the end, he decided to tell the truth. 

When Acevedo was called into the dean’s office to discuss his appeal, the dean had two stacks of paper on his desk. The large stack was overflowing and the other stack was tiny. The dean explained that the large stack was the appeals he was not approving, and the other tiny stack was the appeals he was approving. “Tell me why I should let you back in?” Acevedo recalls him asking. 

Acevedo spoke plainly and honestly: He was the first in his family to attend college; he made the basketball team as a walk-on and poured everything into the game he loved, unaware of the consequences of not attending classes and turning in essential assignments. He promised to do better, to go to office hours, attend tutoring sessions, and sit in the front row of his classes. He just needed another chance. 

The dean said that while he would lose his scholarship, he would be allowed to continue. 

One more shot 

For Acevedo, this second chance was a turning point. He had to take out a student loan that his mother had to co-sign in order to pay his tuition. He lied and told her it was for housing costs. He hadn’t told her or anyone else in his family about his academic dismissal and losing his scholarship. 

His basketball coach, Jim Woodridge, let him back on the team under one condition: He had to have the best grades in the department of athletics. Acevedo knew that meant having a 4.0, so he got to work. During his free time, he earned money gathering bottles and cans for recycling. He sold his clothes and shoes and was living in his best friend’s closet to save money. Despite all of this, he was feeling great.

During his junior year, Acevedo met with a team athletic trainer who was concerned that his heart rate readings were showing around 25 beats per minute. Acevedo called his mom, who immediately urged him to see a cardiologist who discovered a hole in Acevedo’s heart that would require immediate surgery. The medical condition meant that basketball would be off the table for Acevedo during his senior year. It was a devastating turn of events, but Acevedo persevered and began thinking about life after college. 

He had been working as a tutor at Riverside City College and discovered that not only was his former UC Riverside basketball coach now the athletics director, but there was also an opportunity for him to transition to a temporary, full-time role in the athletics department as an educational advisor for student-athletes. For Acevedo, it was a perfect fit. 

On the day of graduation, Acevedo finally came clean to his family and friends who had gathered to support his achievement. He told them how he had been academically dismissed, appealed the decision, regained his spot on the basketball team and worked hard to finish school with a 3.1 GPA. “They thought I was pranking them,” he says. He also told them that he would begin a full-time summer job at Riverside Community College the next day. 

The doctorate he never thought  possible

Fast forward several years, and Acevedo is now an assistant professor of communication studies at Riverside City College, an achievement he credits to his doctoral studies at USC Rossier. After working part-time in the athletics department at RCC for several years, he connected with Professor Cliff Ruth, an assistant swim coach who also served as department chair and a full-time faculty member in the communications studies department. Under Ruth’s mentorship, Acevedo carved a path that led him to teaching full-time. 

When Ruth first met Acevedo, he told him that “he had a way with students,” Acevedo says, and encouraged him to audit one of his communication studies classes to see if teaching in the field might be of interest to him. Acevedo was hooked, and after completing his master’s, he began teaching courses at RCC. 

Acevedo didn’t stop there. He wanted to teach full time, and was encouraged by both Ruth and another mentor who soon entered his life, Emma Diaz, dean of the Inland Adult Education Consortium at San Bernardino Valley College and a recent graduate of the USC Rossier Doctor of Education in Educational Leadership Program. 

“I met her through an adult education conference,” Acevedo says, and they immediately connected. She encouraged him to look into the doctoral program at USC Rossier. Acevedo told her that USC “had always been a dream school,” but he feared it was “not for him,” based on his academic record. They met the following week to discuss the possibility. One of Acevedo’s driving motivators for pursuing his doctorate was that he didn’t know any “Hispanic men with their doctorate,” he says. He wanted to change that narrative and be an example to the young men he taught at Riverside City College. With Diaz guiding him through the application process, Acevedo soon found himself enrolled at USC Rossier. 

Stepping onto the USC campus, Acevedo not only felt accepted, but he also felt the investment of the Trojan Family. He was awarded numerous scholarships, including the Dr. R. Bruce Walter Endowed Memorial Scholarship, Rae Lee Morris Endowed Scholarship and the Town and Gown of USC Scholarship, which covered 50% of his tuition costs. 

Acevedo had achieved his dream of attending USC, and now was well on his way to earning his doctorate. However, soon after he started the program, Acevedo was confronted with another major obstacle. While watching television, a Mr. Peanut commercial aired promoting testicular cancer awareness. Acevedo followed the commercial's guidance and soon found himself at his doctor’s office for a formal screening. Just a few days later, he was diagnosed with testicular cancer. “It happened so fast,” Acevedo recalls. In just days, he found himself undergoing surgery and starting a cancer treatment plan. 

Throughout the process, Acevedo focused on the future. “USC was motivating me,” Acevedo says. He wanted to reach his goal of being a mentor for other men of color, and he knew the program at USC Rossier could help him get there. His father supported him along the way, helping him face this new challenge by encouraging him to lean on his faith and bringing levity to the situation. The two share a love of the Star Wars franchise, and his father, ever the jokester, nicknamed him “Hung Solo.” 

Balancing cancer treatments with his work at RCC and his doctoral program was not easy, but the coursework was inspiring him and exposing him to new concepts. At USC Rossier, Acevedo was learning that equity was not “just a buzzword.” The school’s approach, Acevedo explains, shapes leaders into being truly equity-minded. “I now use what they taught me outside of the classroom. I’m equity-minded as a father, with my wife, my siblings and tio and tias.” Acevedo also makes it a point to incorporate the things he learned at USC into his everyday life with both his community and family. “I use these terms [like educational equity] with them at the pool, when we’re having a carne asada, hanging out at the park… I break down these terms in ways they can understand.” 

Community has always been paramount for Acevedo, so when it came time to focus his research on a particular question for his dissertation, he chose to look at the experiences of those enrolling in adult education classes at community colleges. He had witnessed firsthand the barriers to entry the adults in his community and family faced when working toward advancing their education as they juggled jobs, childcare and transportation to name just a few. 

Professors Maria Ott and Kimberly Ferrario served on Acevedo’s dissertation committee, and Acevedo describes their commitment to him and his work as “amazing.” Ott, the Irving R. and Virginia Archer Melbo Chair in Educational Administration, introduced Acevedo to educational policy concepts, and through her, he learned that “there is so much advocacy within policy.” Ferrario, a detail-oriented and fastidious editor, helped Acevedo sharpen his dissertation and was extremely communicative with Acevedo throughout the process. She also taught him a “growth mindset.” They were both “stellar professors who impacted my journey,” Acevedo says.

After graduating with his doctorate, many doors began to open for him. He had “interviews all over the area.” But despite all the offers, Acevedo ultimately decided to “stay where I am invested” and accepted a full-time professorship at Riverside City College. 

From the court to the classroom

At Riverside City College, Acevedo begins the first day of his courses the same way. He asks his students: “Who is a first-generation student?” A few will raise their hands. And then he asks: “Who knows what that means?” And just a few will raise their hands. 

Acevedo dedicates the first week of class to exploring what higher education is. He introduces his students to the different educational pathways possible and explains things like social capital theory, which might have inhibited their access to higher education. He also makes sure they leave his class with important communication skills that will serve them in the real world. Public speaking is a focus, and a key assignment for his students is to prepare for an admissions interview with their dream school. With all of this, Acevedo is hoping they can learn from his personal experiences—from his difficult first year at UC Riverside to the multiple health challenges along the way— to help “shorten the learning curve” for this next generation. 

As for basketball, it’s still an important part of his life. He plays in the highly competitive Take Pride Men’s League in Temecula, Calif. His wife, Ruby Acevedo, currently pregnant with their second child, brings their son, Zebadiah, to watch his father play each Sunday. 

While basketball opened the door to higher education for Acevedo, he has found his place in the classroom. He no longer measures success by how many points he scores. Instead, he measures it by the knowledge, encouragement and confidence he passes on to his students, and now, to his own children.