The Brief

Marilyn Martinez said she graduated high school wondering if she was “good enough.”

She was one of a handful of Latino students at a predominantly white campus, where many of her classmates’ parents had careers in law and medicine. No one in Martinez’s family had gone to college. Her teachers steered her away from Advanced Placement courses.

Compared with her classmates, Martinez often felt she was lacking.

“I was doing well,” she recalled. “But I wasn't thriving.”

After she enrolled at Pasadena City College, however, Martinez bloomed. A counselor called her in to say she had the grades to transfer anywhere.

“Even Harvard?” she joked.

“Yes,” he told her. And he wasn’t kidding. The community college staff encouraged Martinez to be ambitious.

And to pursue her academic goals, she wanted the kind of support she didn’t get in high school.

Research shows most community college students aspire to earn a bachelor’s degree, but only about a third transfer to a university. The numbers are even more dismal for students who’ve been historically underrepresented. What kind of guidance these students receive can often be critical to whether or not they transfer and graduate.

When Martinez thought about next steps, she knew she wanted to stay close to home. On a campus bulletin, she saw a flyer for a program at UCLA, geared at helping prospective students transfer. She applied on a whim, in part because it promised a chance to live in the dorms. That program proved to be transformative.

Martinez went on to earn a bachelor’s degree at UCLA. Today, she works for that program, helping others do the same.

What does the Scholars Program provide, and who’s eligible?

Earlier this year, a report from Columbia University’s Community College Research Center found that “[d]espite surveys indicating that nearly 80% of community college students aspire to earn a bachelor’s degree, only about a third transfer to a four-year institution.”

And among those who manage to transfer, less than half go on to earn a bachelor’s degree within six years of enrolling at a community college.

The study, which examines state-by-state transfer rates and outcomes by student subgroup, also found that low-income students (11%), students who are 25 years or older (6%), Black students (9%), and Latino students (13%) transfer and complete bachelor’s degrees at even lower rates than community college students overall (16%).

The Scholars Program is run by UCLA's Center for Community College Partnerships. It aims to disrupt bleak transfer rates by providing targeted support for students who’ve been historically underserved in higher education. This includes — but isn’t limited to — students who are the first in their family to go to college; students from low-income backgrounds; formerly incarcerated students; parenting students; undocumented students; former foster youth; and men of color.

CCCP has partnerships with 17 community colleges in Southern California. At these campuses, program coordinators like Martinez — who are often transfer students themselves — help prospective students learn about what it has to offer. Then, once the students are admitted, they gain access to a year’s worth of free guidance.

In the summer, students have the option of taking a UCLA class for six weeks, giving them a chance to earn UC credit before they even transfer. Students can also partake in the program’s residential experience.

These students “get to stay at a dorm, immersed in campus life,” said Aaron Tann. He is the center’s innovation coordinator, working to spread awareness about the program online. Tann also oversees the center’s partnerships with Antelope Valley College, Compton College, and Long Beach City College.

The overnight option, he said, really enables students “to see themselves at a place like UCLA.” Tann speaks from experience; just a few years ago, he attended Citrus College in Glendora.

For students who are more pressed for time, the program offers one-day campus visits, complete with a tour and networking opportunities, as well as webinars.

All options have the same content, Tann said. They’re offered in different ways to ensure students from all walks of life can participate.

After the summer, the community college students are paired with a peer mentor, often a current UCLA student who transferred from the same school. In the fall, the program provides guidance with college applications — regardless of whether the community college students plan to pursue a degree at UCLA or anywhere else. This support includes feedback on the students’ answers to the UC system’s personal insight questions, which are meant to distinguish applicants from the crowd.

In the winter, the program helps students get financial aid. Students learn about grants, loans, and scholarships, of course. But through webinars like “Hustlenomics,” Martinez said they’re also encouraged to think creatively about ways to fund their education, including having a side gig for extra cash. Come spring, the community college students prepare to transition to a university.

Aaron Tann (in the center, wearing a gray hoodie) with other men of color at UCLA's Scholars Program in 2019.

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Courtesy of Aaron Tann

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UCLA's transfer admission rate is about 26%. By comparison, 95% of Scholars Program participants are admitted to at least one UC, and 50% are admitted to UCLA, Tann said via email.

Beyond academics and financial aid

In addition to financial aid workshops and application support, the Scholars Program provides opportunities for students to connect with other prospective transfer students, educators, and professionals.

These experiences, Tann said, are significant because they enable students to learn about specific resources and connect with communities that already exist at UCLA.

When Tann was a community college student, for instance, he appreciated the programming for men of color. These gatherings, he said, gave prospective students “a space for us to be vulnerable and share without any judgment.” The students, Tann added, also had a chance to speak with male professionals of color about their college experiences.

Those opportunities to build community proved to be long-lasting. When Tann transferred to UCLA, he sometimes bumped into other men of color who’d been in the program. When they did cross paths, they’d greet each other with an enthusiastic “MOC!”

You belong 

The program also finds a role for family members.

When Martinez was a student at Pasadena City College, her mom accompanied her to UCLA for the summer dorm experience. Before dropping her off, she wanted to know her daughter would be safe.

The program hosted a family welcome. Martinez grew worried. This required that prospective students and their parents break off into separate groups.

“I didn't want to split up from my mom,” she said. Her mom predominantly speaks Spanish, so Martinez was accustomed to sitting together at “every school-related thing, explaining the context [and] maybe translating.” 

Martinez’s mom noticed she was worried. “It’s fine,” she told her daughter. “If I need you, I’ll text you.”

Learning about the laborers involved with UCLA's brick buildings gave Marilyn Martinez a sense of belonging.

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Courtesy of Marilyn Martinez

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When Martinez and her mom regrouped, she learned that her mom had heard from a UCLA student who was graduating alongside her children. Plus, because the parent session had been in Spanish, Martinez’s mom had felt comfortable asking questions about how to support her daughter with the transfer process.

“It was really life-changing, not just for me but for her as well,” Martinez said.

Another thing Martinez appreciated about that experience was a campus tour that emphasized the contributions of student activists, people of color, and those from working-class backgrounds.

When she and her cohort passed by Royce Hall, their tour guide pointed out the building’s red bricks. Martinez learned that every brick at UCLA was made by Mexican laborers at the Dixon brickyard in East Los Angeles.

“And they were saying: ‘This place was made by people like us. So if you don't feel like you belong, you do,’” she recalled.

Martinez graduated from UCLA in 2022, with a degree in sociology and Chicana and Chicano studies. When she spoke at her commencement ceremony, she recognized an old high school classmate in the crowd, someone whose intellect she’d marveled at as a teenager. It felt good to know they were in the same place.

Topline:

Why now: Making, Keeping, and Losing Friends author McCabe joined LAist’s AirTalk with Larry Mantle to share her friend-making advice with listeners, and we heard from listeners on how they make friends.

The local angle: With geography, jobs and traffic all making the act of “hanging out” a challenge, listeners shared their friend-catching tips.

Matt in Eagle Rock said, “It takes two people to make that friendship work; you have to put the effort into it. That is the harder part as you get older. I started in an adult dodgeball league, which I had never done in my life. Now I’ve been doing comedy, it's really about getting to know the people.”

Priyanka in Orange chimed in, "As I have grown older and moved from college in training for so-called adult life, it’s become harder to find friends that you find relatable and who are as invested in the friendship as you yourself are. The new thing I have discovered is Bumble for friends… and so far it's been a good experience.”

Sydney in Koreatown said, “Transitioning from a gay male to a transwoman, I have lost some friends from transitioning, but I have also gained some deeper friendships. It has been a profound and absolutely amazing experience finding common ground, and finding other gay males that support my transition, and finding other trans women that I have a deepening relationship with too.”

Raul in Long Beach also weighed in, saying, “You don't need social media. No matter what anyone says, it really is not necessary to meet new people. When you’re not on it, it motivates you to talk to people in person, it commits your attention to them face to face.”

Listen to the full segment to hear McCabe’s advice on finding and maintaining friends.

Laura Terry dreamed of having kids — a family she could call her own. But there was one challenge: She wasn't interested in dating, marriage, or partnering up.

So, she came up with an idea for an unusual present to give herself.

"For my 39th birthday, I bought a vial of donor sperm," says Terry, who lives in Nashville, Tenn., and works at a top management consulting firm.

She started the process of having a baby via in vitro fertilization, or IVF, soon after. This path hadn't occurred to her initially, even though she has a Ph.D. in cell and developmental biology. There just wasn't anyone in her orbit who had done it. Her epiphany came from a book in which the author described her own journey with IVF.

"I had never heard of being a single mom by choice before that," says Terry, who is now 44. "It was like a light bulb went off."

That light bulb is going off for a lot of single women. Today, 44% of women in America are unpartnered; finding someone and settling down has become less of a priority when they're in their 20s or even 30s. And when some of them are ready to have kids, they aren't letting singlehood deter them.

Who gets to be a parent is being reshaped by increased access to IVF

The nation's first IVF baby was born in 1981, when the process was such a novelty that she was referred to as a "test tube baby." Since then, its use has surged in the United States, and today, IVF accounts for almost 100,000 births each year. That's up 50% from 10 years ago.

With IVF, which accounts for around 2% of births in America, a woman's eggs are retrieved from her body and fertilized with sperm in a lab. The resulting embryo is then implanted in her uterus, with the hope it will lead to a pregnancy.

This process has opened the door for many people who couldn't otherwise conceive children and reshaped who gets to be a parent, including more LGBTQ+ couples.

It has also become a big driver in the number of older single mothers in the U.S. at a time when the country's overall birth rate is declining. The number of unmarried women in their 40s who are having babies has grown by 250% in the last 30 years, according to data from the government. A portion of these women have partners, but many don't.

There are many reasons for this rise, says Rosanna Hertz, author of the book Single By Chance, Mothers by Choice. Increasingly, she says, young women are pursuing higher education, focusing on their careers, or fulfilling personal goals such as traveling around the world or buying homes.

And when they're ready to partner up in their mid-30s, "there's no one to settle down with," says Hertz, a sociologist with a focus on gender and family at Wellesley College. "So, am I going to spend my time waiting for somebody to come along?"

Hertz says her research shows most women who want a family would rather do it with a partner. For them, IVF is Plan B. But as their reproductive windows narrow with age, some decide to move forward by themselves.

A framed photo of Laura Terry with her mother, Jo, holding baby Eleanor.

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Jessica Ingram

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Becoming a mother is a marker of adulthood for them, Hertz says.

"There is a sense that I'm now ready to do something that is selfless, that involves the care and nurture of another human being and be part of a broader community," she says. "What a child does is tie you into a community."

Do I really want to have a baby? How do I choose a donor?

Terry saw that care and community in her own sister's family, when it drew her to Nashville to spend time with her nephews.

Once she knew she wanted to be a mom, she started mapping out her path through the language she understood, which is spreadsheets and PowerPoints.

"I made a decision tree," she says.

The root of that tree was a fundamental question: Did she really want a child? It branched from there to examine how she would become a mother and which path would give her the best chance of having a baby. It led her to IVF.

Soon enough, she was faced with another decision: choosing a sperm donor. Faced with an array of choices, she resorted to another spreadsheet "that was like 30 rows long and 30 columns wide."

In it, she started by listing factors like race, height, ethnicity and education. Then she narrowed it down to a few that really mattered to her: "I cared about some physical attributes to look like me. And I cared about family health history."

Terry was extremely lucky with her IVF process: She got pregnant on her first try. She gave birth to Eleanor in 2021 and Margaret came two years later.

"I should be quite grateful for what my process was," Terry says. "The results were beyond what you statistically expect."

Terry actively tries to find ways to engage her kids. Sometimes she buys a "decoy cucumber" so that when she's prepping dinner, 4-year-old Eleanor can peel it and feel helpful. Terry says, "It's a great use of 75 cents for an extra cucumber."

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Jessica Ingram

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She's right: The odds of conceiving a child with just one try of IVF are below 50% after a woman turns 35. And the chances drop rapidly each year after that. Many women try multiple cycles of IVF with no guarantee that they'll get pregnant.

Pregnancies at an older age can also carry health risks for both mom and child, with a high chance of miscarriage. All of this can take a huge physical and emotional toll.

Women with higher education are the top users of IVF

When Kate Snyder, who lives in northern New Jersey, was ready to have a kid, she looked for the right guy. "And, you know," she says, "it didn't happen."

Snyder was already in her 40s when she started thinking of IVF.

Kate Snyder and her 2-year-old daughter get ready for day care at their home in northern New Jersey. An interior designer and artist, Snyder made the decision to undergo IVF when she was in her 40s.

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Thalia Juarez

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"Once I came to terms with the fact that the father of my child doesn't have to be the person I end up with, and you separate the two, it's very freeing," she says. "And it just took the pressure off."

Now 48, she is the mother of a 2-year-old daughter, who loves to talk and fills their home with chatter. "She comes home from day care with gossip," says Snyder, who is an interior designer and artist. "She's telling me who pooped their pants and how the teacher had a lollipop today and this person got out of her cot."

Snyder says Google, her former employer, covered a small portion of the cost of freezing her eggs. But she paid for the IVF process herself.

Each time a woman tries to get pregnant via IVF, the cost can range from $15,000 to over $30,000. It's why IVF is out of reach for many.

Snyder wasn't prepared in her mid-40s for the amount of carrying her baby needed in the first two years, whether it was up and down the stairs or getting her in and out of the car.

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Thalia Juarez

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It's gotten the attention of President Trump. In October, he announced proposals to help reduce the cost of the drugs necessary for IVF. He also encouraged employers to offer broader infertility coverage directly to workers.

Some people go into debt, while others like Snyder use up their savings. Some women, like Terry, have theirs covered by insurance. Even that is not common — only 1 in 4 companies with more than 200 employees pays for a part of the process.

Women with higher education — especially master's degrees, doctorates or professional degrees — are more likely to use IVF than those with less education, according to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

These women, on average, have higher incomes. All that gives them the agency to start and support their own family.

"My knees hurt"

Both Terry and Snyder were financially comfortable enough to step off the career treadmill and create time and space for their new families. Snyder now works four days a week. Terry took a pay cut for a different role that was less intense — it allowed her to work from home and requires less travel. Neither has qualms about it.

"It's so physical being a mom. I don't think I expected that," says Snyder.

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Thalia Juarez

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Still, parenting in your 40s is hard.

"It's so physical being a mom. I don't think I expected that," says Snyder, thinking back to her first two years of motherhood and carrying her daughter up and down the stairs or getting her in and out the car. "Motherhood in your 40s, you know, my knees hurt and there are things that are starting to fall apart."

For Terry, one of the hardest parts of being a single mom is not being able to take a break. "If I'm tired or had a rough day at work or I'm frustrated, I'm feeling overwhelmed and I want to step away from my kids, I often can't," she says. "I have to meet their needs first and meet my needs later. And that's hard."

And then there is the weight of decision-making. She discusses her choices with her friends and family, "but ultimately all of that rests on me and that feels really heavy," she says.

Saturday mornings are music class days. Being silly with her kids has helped Terry loosen up and relate to them in a different way. They sing all the time. Her kids make up nursery rhymes on their way to day care or bath time or even while brushing their teeth.

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Jessica Ingram

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"Was he sorry I didn't have a husband?"

Even though there are more families like Terry's and Snyder's today, they're still rare. And society hasn't quite caught up with them.

Like when Terry moved to her new home in Nashville, she introduced herself and the girls to a neighbor, who asked what her husband did for work. Terry explained that they were a "mom and kids family" with two cats. The response took her aback.

"He said, 'Oh, I'm so sorry,'" she recalls. "Was he sorry I didn't have a husband? I still don't know to this day. But there is very much like a moment of feeling other and different — and that's often an uncomfortable feeling."

Terry worries about how her daughters will handle such questions. She prepares her oldest child by role-playing with her. But even then, sometimes it doesn't quite play out the way they've practiced.

Recently, she recalls, one of her daughter's classmates said, "'Hey, Eleanor, is that your mom?' And she said, 'Yes.' And they said, 'Well, where's your dad?' And Eleanor just froze in that moment."

But more often than not, the tenderness of motherhood triumphs over such unsettling interactions. Terry treasures the sweet moments she shares with her kids, like when they climb onto her bed in the morning to wake her or when they sit next to each other on the couch to read before bedtime.

"I love moments where they say, 'Mama, I need a snuggle.' Just holding them for a minute or two and seeing how that calms them is really, really powerful."
Copyright 2026 NPR

Terry reads to her daughters as they snuggle with her on the couch.

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Jessica Ingram for NPR

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Over his nearly 50-year career, Burbank-based attorney Dennis Block has built a reputation as a fierce advocate for Southern California landlords seeking to evict their tenants.

But disciplinary charges filed against him last month by the California State Bar raise questions about his treatment of clients.

Block faces charges involving a series of clients over a span of years. According to the 10 counts against him, Block allegedly collected payments wrongly described as “non-refundable,” failed to account for his fees and didn’t return a client’s property in a timely manner following termination of his employment.

In one case, Block allegedly failed to pay court sanctions on time. In another, he allegedly created a conflict of interest by representing both a tenant and her landlord.

When LAist asked Block how he responded to the charges, he told us to reach out to his defense attorney Erin Joyce. In a statement, Joyce said, “While we cannot comment on the specifics of the case, we believe the matter will be resolved in Mr. Block’s favor prior to trial at the settlement conference.”

The ultimate penalty in California State Bar Court is disbarment, which would prevent Block from continuing to practice law. Lesser punishments could involve a brief suspension or an order to complete an ethics exam.

Should fees have been ‘non-refundable’?

This isn’t the first time Block has faced repercussions for alleged ethical lapses in recent years.

In 2023, LAist reported on a filing Block’s firm submitted in an eviction case that contained multiple references to fake case law. Legal experts told us the filing, which led to court sanctions, was likely produced through misuse of AI.

Legal ethics experts said the new charges against Block are serious.

“The worst thing a lawyer can do is steal a client's money,” said Scott Cummings, a law professor at UCLA. “This is effectively what the bar is saying Mr. Block has done here in roughly half a dozen cases.”

Many counts involve Block allegedly charging up-front fees described by his firm as “non-refundable.” Bar rules state such fees must constitute a “true retainer,” meaning money paid to reserve an attorney’s availability for a specific case or period of time.

LAist previously reported that former clients have complained about poor communication and a lack of availability from Block and his associates.

Richard Zitrin, an emeritus lecturer with UC Law San Francisco, said the rules may sound esoteric, but the bar takes violations seriously.

“When you get right down to what's going on under the surface, it looks like the accusations are that this guy could not do the work for these various clients,” Zitrin said. “If it's one time, it could just be an honest mistake. But if he's doing it repeatedly, serially, of course that's of more concern.”

Representing both sides?

In one case, Block’s firm is accused of taking on a tenant who was in a dispute with her roommate. A few months later, while still representing the tenant, Block’s firm allegedly took on the tenant’s landlord. Block’s firm then sent a letter threatening to evict his own client, according to the charges.

“Lawyers cannot represent opposite sides of a particular case because they owe their duty of loyalty and confidentiality to each client,” said Laurie Levenson, a law professor at Loyola Law School. “It's very likely that one side or the other will feel that the lawyer sold out to the other client.”

Despite the severity and the number of allegations, UCLA’s Cummings said Block’s disciplinary record — which shows no infractions so far — could help him avoid disbarment.

“Suspension seems like — if these facts were all proven to be true — definitely an appropriate sanction in this particular case,” Cummings said.

It’s not yet clear what the charges could mean for Block’s firm, which prides itself on handling a high volume of cases at any given time. Block once reportedly described himself as “a man who has evicted more tenants than any other human being on the planet Earth.”

A status conference in Block’s case is set for Feb. 9.