Autobiography

Latina. Mexican-American. Daughter of immigrants. English Language learner. Wife. Mother of two college aged daughters. Passionate educator. Advocate for my students. Graduate student at the age of 55. These are the words that describe me.

Growing up in Lincoln Heights in the 1970’s and then in South LA in the 1980’s was tough. We were poor, and my immigrant parents did not speak English. Many times I was the translator for them, even though my own English skills were still developing.

It was living in this poverty that made me aware that we live in a world that has many social justice issues. These issues affect families and their children, and my family was affected too. My parents worked hard to make sure we had food to eat and a roof over our heads. My mom made most of our clothes, and when we did buy clothes, they were from “second hand” stores. This was a necessity. (Ironically, now it’s hip to “Thrift Shop”.) I remember getting two pairs of shoes per year: one for the summer, and one for the winter. 

Though we didn’t have much, my parents tried their best, and they gave us love and purpose for the future. They told us to learn English and do our best in school, but they also insisted that we never forget our Mexican roots. On weekends we would listen to Spanish radio or dad’s Norteño corridos on his record player.  

My story may seem like my parents came to the U.S. with minimal education and limited social stability. Yet, that was not the case. My father left Mexico when he was in his first year of medical school.  My mother had a middle school education, but she also had a solid background in secretarial skills, short-hand skills, and an amazing talent for sewing, as she put herself through seamstress school in Monterrey, NL, Mexico, the birthplace of both of my parents. Though my parents came to this country with an educational background, when they got here, they started from zero. My dad worked as a dishwasher in Hollywood. My mother stayed home to raise the kids. Times were tough, and we lived with little. Yet, my parents always believed that things would get better and that their children would have a brighter future than theirs.

My parents never doubted that their four children would go to major universities. They constantly reminded us that “education is the way out of poverty”.  It was never a question IF we were going to a major university, it was a question of choice. Would we become Bruins or Trojans?  And, my brother, sisters, and I wholeheartedly embraced this dream. This dream started when we were very young. For fun, we would pile in my dad’s station wagon (the one that kept breaking down) and the whole family would drive for hours through LA. We would visit USC and then drive across town to get a glimpse of the beautiful UCLA campus and the surrounding Westwood neighborhood. We would drive up Sunset and see the sign to Beverly Hills.  My parents would point to UCLA and say: “Un día estarán aquí. Tengan fé.”  (“One day, you’ll be here. Have faith.”).” 

As I ponder about moments that have shaped who I am, I think of two distinct but comparable moments.  One was in third grade while we lived in Lincoln Heights, and another was in 7th grade when we lived in South LA. In third grade, I was selected to take the gifted test, but I did not pass it.  While the gifted kids went on special field trips, I was left behind to do busy work. This life-shifting moment is an experience that would shape my life as a student and (though I did not realize it) as an educator.  Feeling inadequate, not smart enough, and extremely sad, I took this set back as an impetus to strive for excellence. Though I was not allowed to be part of the GATE program, and I felt lonely and deficient in my school abilities, I studied diligently, read everything I could, and I carried around my yellow dictionary to look up funny sounding words that were foreign to me.  

As a nine-year old, I did not have the language to realize that this experience was a social justice issue. This marginalization is about language. The GATE test was given to me in English, and I was not fluent in English. It was only my third year learning English and because I was tested in English, I did not comprehend the questions.  My parents did not know how to advocate for me. They accepted the results, encouraged me not to worry, and told me  “keep going, keep learning”.  If the test had been given to me in Spanish, I may have had different results. There is also a chance that it might not have changed the outcome. However, I did not have the opportunity to find out if I didn’t pass because the test was in English or because I truly wasn’t gifted. The fact that my home language was not taken into account shows marginalization on the school’s part.  My nine-year old self felt that I didn’t pass because my English was inadequate, because I wasn’t smart enough, and because I didn’t really fit in. In the end, my parents were wise with their advice. The worth ethic I developed carried me through my years of schooling.  My excellence awarded me a four year scholarship to USC, where I earned a B.A. in English Literature and a B.A. in International Relations. 

The second formative incident happened when I was in 7th grade. One day, my dad came home from work and he looked like someone had beaten him up.  He looked lost, was pale, and had tears in his eyes. I had never before seen my father cry.  I overheard him talking to my mom. He had lost his job and we did not have any money.  We were not able to pay the rent or the bills that were due.  My father was at his wits end. Though he did not want to, for the first time in his 17 years in the US, he asked for government assistance. My dad, a proud Mexican man, felt that he had failed us.This change in our socio-economic status affected the family deeply.  I remember all of us gathering around and listening to our parents about how we would have to cut back even more on our expenses.  My emotions went from sad to angry and disbelief. Here was a man who had left medical school to come to a new country that offered him opportunities for his children, but he could not provide for us.  He came in search of a dream, but instead encountered the reality of not being able to take care of his family. Here, the social justice issue was with socio-economic status. Why was he let go?  He had received the “Foreman of the Year award” but yet he was being dismissed.  I wondered how many other Latinos were being let go. My father did not talk about it. He simply accepted our new, lower socio-economic status, and urged us to do the same. We learned to live with this situation, accepted the assistance, and continued to hope. 

 After two years, my father was able to get off welfare and food stamps. His work ethic and saving up every bit possible gave him the strength to make a very bold decision. He decided to open up his own upholstery business, putting into practice the skills he had honed for the past fifteen years. I will never forget the smile on my parents’ faces when they stopped receiving government aid, because they could now pay the bills and buy groceries for us. Things got better and eventually, my parents bought home, then another, and saved enough money to send us to Catholic School, a goal they had always had for their kids. 

These two experiences have shaped me into the person I am today. From my father and mother, I learned that patience, hard work, and lots of prayers will get you through the toughest of times. The academic struggle I felt in school due to the lack of English gave me the impetus to work hard and see the giftedness in every child I teach.  I see my students as filled with knowledge, rich culture and experience. I welcome them as human beings who are talented and who contribute to the learning of others. I have found that just treating kids like scholars makes a world of difference. They walk a little taller, try a little harder, and they are eager to share their knowledge.  As an educator, I strive for my own excellence,  and I am a “warm demander” of my students. Because they know I “bring it” (bring strong teaching and a connectedness with my students) every day, we have mutual respect and mutual greatness in learning.

Serving Our Families

Over the years, I have grown to see that teaching is more than giving lessons to kids. Teaching is about forging relationships with our students and their families. It is in connecting with them that we can really get to know our kids and their needs.These relationships open up communication, and it is in this communication that we can begin to understand our students and empower them to be the best that they can be. Our students and their families go through so much, that they may need more time or more support than we may first realize. Being great at school is not about getting the top grades. It is much more expansive than I first realized. Being great is about doing your best, and for my students being great means that they work to be the best that they can be, and this may look different for each student.

Greatness has been redefined for me. It is no longer just about getting good grades or assimilating into the dominant culture. It is about creating an environment where there is a culture of care, a place where all students feel like they are part of the school. I see this culture of care as a way to address social justice issues. By inviting families in and connecting with them. I am getting to know their needs both inside and outside of school.  This helps when trying to remedy social justice issues of language, of not feeing connected to school, and of low socioeconomic status.  I have become more empathetic with my students. I acknowledge that all people have “bad days” and that my students may need more time to complete assignments. I also understand that different kids learn different ways, So, now I make a more concerted effort to meet them where they are. I do the heavy lifting to help my students achieve and thrive in the classroom. Sometimes, the gains are big and sometimes they are small. But, all gains are to be celebrated. The difference in me is that I am the one to adapt. I am the one to change up the lesson as needed for my divergent learners. I have also become more aware of my own biases and my critical eye. When I don’t understand my students, I pause to try to comprehend. I have become a much more reflective person. I used to reflect on my lessons. Now, I reflect on my lessons AND on my relationships with my students and their families. I accept that we are all different and we all have a story, and everyone’s story is valid.  

My Journey as an Educator

When I first entered education, I did it with the mindset of a two year commitment. As a naive 22 year old USC graduate, I joined the very first “Teach for America” cohort in 1990. I knew that this teaching was going to be temporary, “‘Til I find a real job,” is what I said. Little did I know then, that I would fall in love. I fell in love with teaching. I fell in love with my students and their families. I fell in love with making a difference.  And so, this two year commitment has become my life’s passion. I am now in my thirty-third year in education, and I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. I am getting my administrative credential, because I would like to continue to make a difference in my students’ lives in a different capacity. I would love to lead a school where every person on the campus sees the beauty and “giftedness” of each and every child. This leadership can take different paths, whether I decide to continue teaching, or take on the role of  a principal, or maybe even work at the district level, I know that I will lead with a social justice lens.  Yes, I have been an educator for a long time, but the funny thing is that I have also been a learner. I have learned so much from my students and their families. I understand that my purpose in education is to continue to uplift my students.  It is also about creating a bond with the students and their families and telling them: “I see you. I hear you. I believe in you.” I want my students to know that I am here for them, and that with patience, love, hope, and hard work, they, too, can reach their dreams, like I reached mine, thanks to two parents and my wonderful teachers who had the foresight to believe in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.