Life as a Migrant Student

“Ya son las 5:00 de la manana, levántate a usar el baño antes que tu papa.” My mother would whisper to wake me up. We lived in a very small one bedroom apartment with one bathroom. We couldn’t wait to move into a trailer home, but those were given to families that had seniority.

We started traveling to Wisconsin as migrants since I was in elementary school. We would attend school Oct- April and migrated up north end of April or beginning of May. We never had a chance to finish the school year with our classmates. We gave our notice of departure weeks in advance and were required to complete all of our school work before leaving. We did all of our assignments, research papers and tests in advance. My classmates thought it was great to leave school earlier, but they had no idea the hard work was just getting started for me. I was often targeted and bullied because I was not a fluent English speaker and dressed differently. The constant moving created an isolation feeling and somewhat I felt I was missing on academic learning.

The day of departure was so exciting and chaotic. My mom always packed like we were never coming back. My dad would be upset and reassuring mom she could find things up north. His idea of essentials was different than mom’s. I have to say, I am glad mom would take all her things even if that meant we were packed in the back of the truck as sardines.

So imagine traveling for 3 days, 5 kids on the back of the truck with a camper. Inside the bed truck, there were a mattress, pillows, comforters, dishes, cans of food, snacks for the road, and an empty bucket. The bucket was essential. The road was long and we were not making so many stops everytime someone needed to use the restroom for number 1.

We always traveled in a caravan. Most of the family members didn’t speak English and feared getting lost. There were no GPS only follow each other and use the paper map. Of course getting out of Texas felt like an eternity. Luckily we made one stop in Kansas. There were some small trailer homes available for migrant families to stop and rest. Several members of our family worked for the same farmers and that’s how my parents got invited to work up north. My tios and tias had been migrating for years and that was their lifestyle. The trip was long but we did all of our sightseeing through the small side windows and the back glass door of the camper. My dad would always sweat when driving through big cities like Houston, Texas and St. Louis, Missouri. There was a sliding window that connected the cab and the camper which we used to communicate with our parents or they used it to get mad at us.

Getting to our destination was always exciting. The scenery was beautiful, tall green trees everywhere, long curvy roads, deer walking through fields, hills and beautiful enormous homes with red barns. We were glad to finally stretch our legs, find out where we would live for the Summer and get to meet people from all over the United States. Families from different states would come to work at the same farm.

The first day of picking crops we had to get up super early- before sunrise. Mom would get up earlier than us to cook breakfast tacos and lunch. I had to get up early to help pack lunch and what we needed for the day. My younger brothers would have to stay behind under the care of a relative. I on the other hand would have to help my parents. Although I was too young to work and get paid, I could still help my parents picking crops to move faster. During the entire season we would start picking banana peppers, then cucumbers, and after that moved to the potato factory. I was not allowed at the potato factory.

The banana peppers were easy and fun. We would just pick them and gathered them in buckets. The hard work was picking cucumbers. We were assigned sections and if we picked them too early or too late, we would be in trouble. The cucumbers were valued differently according to their size. The smaller size were for pickles and the bigger size would be in danger of not good enough. We would pick them in buckets and then transferred them to sacks. Most of the work was done bending over or on your knees. I wished I had known about sun block and knee pads back then. The fields were huge and sometimes over hills. My dad would drive the truck closer to us so we could hear the music as we worked. This is where I learned to drive by practicing moving the truck as we advanced in the fields. We would get to eat halfway through the designated section we were assigned. Lunch time was fun. We would all gather and shared our food and told jokes. I personally loved to eat the cucumbers with lime and chile en polvo. The pay was not the best but this was more than what we would get back in Texas.

While everyone back home was enjoying their summer, I was getting my sun tan picking crops. While everyone else was tired from playing outside with their friends, my body was achy from working on my knees all day and my back was on fire. I used to dislike what we had to do every summer. Now as an adult, I appreciate the experience and learning opportunities. I knew I was going to graduate and go to college.

One day, all of the sudden homes and trailer homes were now empty. People are starting to head back home. My family member were always the last ones to leave because they would start working at the potato factory. All the children would start the new school year. There I was, one of the only Mexican girls starting school with the locals. The culture was different and language barrier felt stronger. I could tell some teachers were nice and compassionate and some knew I would be leaving soon so they didn’t really cared for my progress. The school district only cares that I enrolled somewhere else so I won’t count as a drop out for them. I was already considered at risk for my limited English and considered a migrant.

Just when I would start to feel comfortable and begin to build friendships, my parents would be requesting our school transfers. Coming back we were more packed inside that camper than when we left. Mom would pick up anything that was “Free” at every garage sale.

Upon arrival, we would play catch up. Although we would start school in Wisconsin, we would still have to do assignments and tests when we returned to Texas. Most times I was lost in class until I was able to build relationships with my classmates and teachers. Saturdays and Sundays I kept working in the fields picking onions until my senior year.

My parents were very surprised when I told them my senior year, I would no longer migrate with them. I decided to complete my senior year and moved out of my home into my own apartment to begin my first year of college. My parents and siblings kept with the tradition for several more years.

Being a Migrant gave me a lot of opportunities, taught me hard work and helped me realized the importance of education. I am the first one to graduate from college. I graduated from University of Houston- Summa Cum Laude with a Bachelor’s in Science in Interdisciplinary Studies. I taught migrant children like me and loved working at Title One Schools.

The last time I went to Wisconsin as an adult, I was visiting my brother in Sheboygan. He was leading as the Director of a Migrant Program. I am so proud of what our whole family has done and accomplished. We took an opportunity, educated ourselves and now give back by serving the community.