As several authors in last May/June's issue of "Change" pointed out, more and more students are coming to college with stories that need to be heard but are not being heard--stories of loss, survival, marginalization, resilience, oppression, persistence, trauma, and determined, stubborn love. They enter an environment that is so often defined and celebrated as a sort of prolonged adolescence, an intellectual and developmental cocoon set aside spatially and emotionally from the demands of family and community, a life of the mind in which the self is presumed to develop unfettered and unencumbered. In this setting, what is there to be made of the growing numbers of students, often dark-skinned and silent, who arrive in classrooms (including virtual ones) with lives weighted heavy by suffering and responsibility? The six authors began a collaboration in the fall of 2019 at Portland State University around this amorphous but compelling question. The authors convened a series of meetings with several undergraduate students around this general topic, an invitation that Jasmine, Yarina, and Ceci responded to and persisted with despite, or perhaps because of, their many responsibilities and challenges at home and at school. Through several interchanges, oral and written, about their roads to and experiences at Portland State, the three students focused on what they wished students, faculty, and administrators knew about them. They then drafted the letters excerpted in this article to a real or imagined member of the university community about "who we are," inspired by the arguments made by several authors in "Change's" May/June 2020 issue. These narratives invite higher education professionals to restore/revise/revive classrooms of every sort to make space for every student. To take in these narratives means to get comfortable with discomfort, to accept an unsettling of the seemingly resolved single story, such that others in their wholeness may be fully invited to a higher education bounty for all.