Hi, folks, This poem is the recent work of poet, independent mystic and all-around seeker: Meslos D. Soreno, a person I have known forever but who I have just recently met. I hope to see more contributions from him in the future. Jimmy The Unknown…
By Angie Sánchez Although I was in good academic standing and my dad did not and still does not make enough money financial aid was not available. This is sad because I really wanted to become a successful and productive member of society yet I…
By Angie Sánchez
The education I received at the community college was great. The advisors and instructors were also phenomenal. Attending that college opened my eyes I learned many new things. I was also very proud of myself because I was enrolled in course with students that were not in mediocre level classes like I was in high school. In fact, some of the students were members of the National Honor Society. My grades in college were better than the ones in high school even though the work was more challenging. I was also working at the same time and it was challenging because I was working an average of 32 hours a week but I managed. I met a lot of cool people during my time there and I’m glad for that. I’m especially thankful for my advisor. She provided me with information that I had never been exposed to before. She provided the guidance that I needed and assistance that I needed.
By Angie Sánchez
Early College Education
My college education began in a community college. When I found out that the private college that I was planning on attending was too expensive and could not get the scholarship I started to save money but as I mentioned before 32 hours a week at $6.50 was not going to be enough to pay for it. Someone who worked at the same mall I did asked me what I was planning on doing after high school and I told her that I was going to work until I had enough to pay for the school I wanted to attend. She advised that since it was going to take a while to save up all that money that I should take a couple classes at the community college and then transfer once I had the money. I didn’t even know I could do this! She gave me better advice than my high school counselor ever did.
The reason why I began working was so that I could have money of my own and help my dad with some of the bills. That summer I worked as much as possible and I saved a lot of my money. I knew that I wanted to go to college but I did not realize how expensive it was or how I was going to get the money to pay for it. When the school year started and I made an appointment to visit the college I was interested in. The staff there was very welcoming and most of all informative. The adviser I spoke to informed me that I qualified for a $2,000 scholarship and that upon acceptance that scholarship was going to be mine. Unfortunately, I could not receive that scholarship or any other form financial aid because of status. I was devastated, especially since I had been accepted to the school. When this happened I decided that I was going to work extra hard and save up money. At $6.50 an hour I was going to need way more than 32 hours to save up $12,000 per semester.
By Angie Sánchez
Employment
I began working the summer before my senior year of school. I worked at the mall at a specialty food store. Since I did not have legal documents to work I had to get some. And that meant getting a fake social security number and a fake Green Card. We went to La Villita which is a predominantly Mexican community in Chicago. All you do is walk down the streets and there are guys walking around asking if you need a Mica (green card). They usually make hand gestures, like holding up their hand as if they were holding a card in their hands. A guy walked by us and we told him we did. He asked what name we wanted on there and if we had a social security number we wanted to use otherwise they make one up for you. I made mine up on the way there. The name on the social security card was different than my real name. The only thing I changed was my last name. I did this because if someone that knew me ever came to my place of employment they wouldn’t address me with a different name than the one on my application. I also did this because if I ever applied for residency and if it showed that I had worked with a fake social they would use that against you. He told me to go to a shop where I was going to have my picture taken for the mica. It was a bridal shop, places where people go to take their pictures range or you can come with your own picture. An hour later we met up with the guy again and he had my social security card and my green card. I could now work “legally.” I paid a total of $150; the prices have gone up since then.
Mojada, part VIII
By Angie Sánchez
At the end of my junior year I finally realized that I was not being challenged so I asked to be placed in higher level classes for the following year. What bothers me is that if I wouldn’t have asked for that I would’ve stayed in the same mediocre classes. I was getting bad grades. I just think I was one student in the masses. Otherwise I would have been moved up a level by sophomore year. The counselor I was assigned in high school was probably the worst any one could ever have. Whenever I would meet with her to choose my classes for the following semester she would never ask me what I was interested in. She would just placed me in the courses that she thought were the most appropriate for me. I never said anything to her because I felt that she knew what she was doing.
Cross-posted at My Ongoing Struggle with Misanthropy Part I/Part II/Part III/Part IV/Part V/Part VI Mojada, part VII By Angie Sánchez By the time I reached high school I was fluent in English, however, I had a little bit of an accent. I knew the language…
Mojada, part VI
By Angie Sánchez
The school year ended but I was enrolled in summer school and that summer was great. I made friends both Latino and American. I became friends with two little girls living in the building as us. Imagine they spoke no Spanish and my sister and I spoke no English, but we still managed to have the time our lives. Hanging out with them helped me practice basic English words. But I was still very hesitant and I would avoid using long sentences. My parents kept telling me that I needed to practice the language otherwise they were going to send back to México. At that time I really did not want to go back because I wanted to be here.
Part I/Part II/Part III/Part IV
Mojada, part V
By Angie Sánchez (via Jimmy Gabacho)
My first day of school was nerve wrecking. It only got worse when I boarded the bus. My dad was with me at the bus stop and he showed the bus driver the bus pass and I proceeded to board the bus and the bus driver told where to seat but I couldn’t understand her so I sat on the wrong seat. So, I’m standing in the middle of the aisle staring at her trying to figure out what she was telling me finally she gets up and points to the seat she wanted me in, she did it in a very rude manner. As a mater of fact I remember what she said to me now that I know English and she said something along the lines of me being stupid. So I think to myself and say “Umm No I was not stupid I just didn’t speak English!” She kept telling me where to seat and finally she gets up from her seat and points to where she wanted me to seat. I felt so stupid and embarrassed because everyone was looking at me and probably thinking how stupid I was or that poor girl doesn’t speak English.
Mojada, Part IV
Reuniting with Dad
After staying with my grandparents for a month in Santa Ana California we flew to Chicago in April to be with our dad. We arrived at O’Hare airport and when we saw Dad, we were simply ecstatic. I thought. “We are finally here with dad.” It is not an easy transition for someone when they first move from one place to another. Imagine how you have felt when you have moved from one house to another or from living at home to living in a dorm. It’s strange. You are entering a complete new world, new culture, new customs, new everything. My dad had rented an apartment for us to live in. He used to live with my uncle and two other men in a different apartment, but when he found out we were coming he made arrangements so that we could have our own place. It was barely furnished and I remember we had to use buckets as chair whenever we ate and our dining table was also the center table in the living room. We definitely did not have much but through my dad’s hard work and support from my grandmother our almost empty apartment began to look like home. Then again I think that us being together was sufficient to call it home.
Part III of Angie Sánchez’s “Coming to America Story.” (See Part I and Part II).
Mojada III
It took us about 2 hours to cross the border and once we were on American soil I felt relieved. We were taking to a coffee shop in San Isidro. We were supposed to wait here for my mom and for my grandparents to pick us up. My sister and I arrived at the coffee shop at about one in the afternoon or so and we were there for about five hours waiting to be reunited with my mom. It took longer for my mom to cross the border because the finger prints on the green card did not match hers. Obviously, it did not belong to her. So she kept getting sent back and on top of that she had to wait in line over again. While at the coffee shop the coyote, Gerardo, we originally met earlier that day met there with us. He was taking care of us while my mom crossed. The first hour we were there I was fine; I was excited that I was in a new country. But as time went by I began to get a little scared and miss my mom. I kept praying to God that this man was not going to kidnap us or harm us. I had seen many commercials warning parents and kids about kidnappers so I was paranoid at the thought of it. To make matters worse my sister Guadalupe started to ask about mom and I didn’t know what to tell her except for, she’ll be here soon. Her cries made me so scare that I wanted to cry too, but I kept telling myself that I had to be strong for her. I don’t remember ever being so lost and sad in my life. Imagine sitting in a coffee shop holding your scared little sister’s hand as she keeps asking, where is momma? And you as a 9 year old who is just as scared and wondering the same thing, has no answer. I managed to keep her calm and I tried distracting her by offering sweets and showing her the cakes and doughnuts inside the cases. That worked for a little bit.
Hi, folks,
Here is part II of Angie Sánchez’s “Coming to America Story.” (Here is part I.)
Enjoy,
Gabacho
