I come from a migrant family. My parents would travel 1,400 miles to Elwood, Indiana, each August and come home to Brownsville in October each year for 12 years. Both would work 12-hour shifts, seven days a week in a tomato processing factory while my brother and I would attend elementary school.
A noteworthy moment was in October 2004, when my father had to come back “home” to put on two extra layers of clothing and another pair of socks, so he could work in the freezing temperature. I knew that my parents had to sacrifice their own well-being in order to provide enough for my brother and me to become independent.
But, when I first applied to the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley, I was denied admission. Surprised? I was, too.
This happened an hour before I went in for work at McDonald’s. I checked my admission status and saw that I would not be able to attend the university. With no explanation, I was frustrated as to why I was rejected. Was I an idiot? I got accepted to Texas A&M University-Kingsville, but I wanted to attend UTRGV because it’s close to home and it’s less of a burden on my family financially. I appealed UTRGV’s decision to prove that I could get in and I am now a sophomore majoring in mass communication.
Take that, President Bailey.
During my first year of college, I was in the College Assistance Migrant Program (CAMP). They assist students who migrate, seasonal farmworkers or children of migrant workers. The program guided me through my first year of college with tutoring, free textbooks and mentoring. I can’t thank my parents enough for opening up a smooth path for me because of their hard work in migrating to Indiana.
My parents are my mentors. They guide me and encourage me to follow my dreams, whatever they may be. You know how it is.
Both of them saw how unhappy I was working at McDonald’s and pushed me to apply for a more professional job. They encouraged me when I changed my major to mass communication because I wasn’t feeling comfortable with criminal justice. Even before I started working or going to college, my parents were the ones who bought me my first trumpet in order to play in my middle school band. They would make time to attend my concerts and the parades I came out in through all three years I was in band.
Now I am working for The Rider newspaper. I’m a distribution assistant, but I have written stories, taken photos and now here I am, writing my first column. My parents also helped me buy my first camera to delve deeper into photography, a recent hobby I’ve picked up since working at the paper.
A lot of times, we take our parents for granted and don’t appreciate their hard work and sacrifices, but I want to recognize all parents who are building promising paths for their children. My mom and dad have shown me what good parents are capable of: raising a hardworking, understanding, funny and patient man who will teach his own children how his parents taught him.
