By Dwight Smith Jr., son of Local 12 Member, Dwight Smith
November 30th, 2025
From New York to Dayton — “Walking”
My journey from New York City to Dayton can only and truly be defined by steps in a leap of faith. Having grown up in the city, my life was far from ordinary. My father was incarcerated for fifteen years of my life, and my mother—while physically present—loomed like a shadow whose center could not be permeated, where her physical outline could be seen without feeling the substance beneath. She was everything you wouldn’t expect a mother to be: condescending, manipulative, emotionally abusive—the list goes on. Her “love” was conditional, and her portrayal of care was a form of weaponized control.
From a young age, I was forced to mature faster than most. I did the grocery shopping and cooking for my younger brother and me, since my mother would often come home already fed and never ask if we had eaten. I took my brother to school, tutored us both in the summers because she wouldn’t, and spent weekends doing everyone’s laundry. These experiences became routine, and I didn’t realize how much of my childhood I was missing. There were nights when I didn’t know what we’d eat because my mother was out of the country without leaving food or money, and days when I sold candy on the streets just to make ends meet.
Through it all, I learned that pain is a beautiful teacher—it’s not meant to confine you. Even when everything around me felt unstable, I held onto the two things no one could take from me: ambition and resilience. I didn’t have every step of the way planned out; I just had a vision of where I wanted to go and a belief that somehow, God would show me how to get there. Those two traits—ambition and resilience—became my fuel. They reminded me that every new day God grants us is sacred, and as long as He continues to grant me new days, I can turn my struggle into strength.
When it came time to choose a college, I knew I had to leave New York to grow into the person I was meant to be. But during my junior and senior years, my mother—an educator with a master’s degree—showed no interest in my future. Her words to me were, “Figure it out on your own. I’m not paying or helping with anything.” Those words, though cold, became a defining moment in my faith. They forced me to lean on God and trust that He would make a way when it seemed like there was none.
And He did. I began connecting with mentors and alumni from my high school who supported me in every way—from helping me decide where to apply to covering my $2,400 application fees. That support filled a void I never had at home. I had grown used to handling stress alone, afraid to ask for help because it always came with strings attached.
Originally, I dreamed of going to college in California—a dream born from an eighth-grade vacation where I fell in love with the lifestyle and freedom there. Because of that trip, and because California was so far from New York, I set my mind on going there. But my path took a turn when my advisor, Dominick Caggiano, told me that a representative from the University of Dayton was visiting our school to interview candidates for the John L. O’Grady Scholarship. He believed I’d be a perfect fit.
That representative was Michael Storay, Associate Director of Recruitment and Admission. Our meeting changed everything. As we spoke about Dayton—the campus, community, and values—I felt something shift. It was as if God whispered, “This is where your next chapter begins.”
There were many people and factors that helped guide me through this decision—too many to name individually—but that meeting with Michael gave me clarity. I realized that UD wasn’t just another college; it was a place where I could surpass both the limitations society placed on me and the ones I had unknowingly placed on myself.
I wanted to be in a place where I could learn what it truly means to be free—to seek truth, to grow mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. I needed an environment that would nurture my potential and allow me to rise beyond my circumstances. And with the right support system, faith, and willpower, I knew that dream could become my reality.
A Unique Start — “Running”
After receiving my acceptance letter, excitement quickly turned into fear. I didn’t have everything figured out. In fact, I often questioned whether college was even for me.
All I could think about after graduation was that I was finally free—that I could leave all my pain and trauma buried in New York. I was ready for a fresh start in Dayton, thinking relocation would solve everything. But deep down, I was full of mixed emotions about leaving the city I called home to start a new life in a place I had never been before. I didn’t know what to expect, or what was waiting for me.
I was scared, anxious, and fearful of the unknown. Will I be okay? How will my younger brother feel? Am I ready to live alone in a whole new state? These questions replayed in my mind every day as my departure grew closer.
One piece of advice I received during that time stuck with me, even though I didn’t understand it until much later:
“Just because you’re going somewhere new doesn’t mean the things you’ve swept under the rug will magically go away.”
That summer before college could have easily been the moment I gave up. But instead, I leaned into my faith, reading scripture and trusting that God was guiding me. It was as if He said, “I got you. Just follow my lead, and everything will work out in due time.”
And that’s when I discovered the Multi-Ethnic Education and Engagement Center’s (MEC) Summer Bridge Program.
To me, that program wasn’t just an introduction to college—it was the bridge between the life I came from and the life I wanted to build. It gave me a community that saw my potential before I did. Through the Bridge Program, I met mentors, peers, and staff who reminded me that I wasn’t alone. For the first time in my life, I could breathe. I could make mistakes, grow, and start to understand who Dwight really was—beyond survival, beyond pain.
That experience taught me something powerful: ambition without balance can burn you out, but ambition with freedom and peace—that’s where true growth begins.
Laying Down Roots — “Flying and Soaring”
When I officially arrived at the University of Dayton, my beginning was anything but easy. The adjustment hit me from every direction—socially, academically, personally, and spiritually.
Socially, I struggled for about a year. A very special person once told me, “You wanted to get to know people, but you were too scared to let people get to know the real you.” And she was right. Academically, I ended my first semester on academic probation with a 1.7 GPA, learning the ropes of engineering while wrestling with courses like chemistry and calculus. Personally, I was adapting to being away from home and beginning the long process of healing from my past. Spiritually, I was learning how to look inward, strengthen my faith, and trust more deeply in God’s plan.
Adjusting to college life after everything I’d been through felt surreal. There were days I questioned if I belonged here—days when I felt isolated as the weight of my past whispered, “You’re not deserving of this. You’ll never make it as a Civil Engineering major.”
But every time I showed up—for class, for my peers, for myself—I was taking another leap of faith. And with each one, I began to fly.
During my time here, becoming an Orientation Leader, a PEERS Mentor, a RECKids Supervisor, and a member of Black Action Through Unity helped me find my wings and break away from the chains of my past. Those experiences taught me that leadership isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. It’s about being authentic, kind, and using your story, even the painful parts, to lift others up.
As I reflect on how far I’ve come, I see that every challenge, obstacle, and ounce of doubt became an opportunity to grow and strengthen my faith. The lessons from my past laid the foundation for the man I’m becoming today—someone confident, grounded, and full of purpose.
My core values—ambition, freedom, balance, and inner peace—aren’t just words. They’re my compass, guiding me toward freedom and reminding me to stay true to who I am, no matter how far I go.
I’ve learned that to soar, you must first believe you can walk. You must run toward opportunity even when you’re scared. You must fly through the storms, trusting they’re shaping your wings. And when the time comes—when you take that leap of faith—you realize you were meant to soar all along.