Santa Clara University

Elizabeth Barron

TWO PERSPECTIVES: ONE YEAR, YEAR FOUR

Year Four: I AM DONE!
by Elizabeth Barron

Throughout four years of undergraduate studies, there were many times I did not think I would be able to say the words that appear above. I can enjoy them now. I can describe to all how I felt the moment I crossed the stage to receive my diploma. I was engulfed in the moment. I could not hear nor see anyone. My entire focus was on not tripping on stage and grabbing the diploma cover. I later found out that while I was crossing the stage, my entire family did "the wave" and my sorority sisters sounded blow horns. But not even that ruckus could distract me from my ultimate goal-to walk that stage, to graduate-to be the first in my entire family to receive a bachelor's degree.

However, I cannot think of this glorious moment without thinking of all the struggles I encountered on my way to the stage. I faced obstacles many of my peers did not. Many times I felt these obstacles would stop me completely. I am happy they were only obstacles and not complete barriers.

I am the second of six children. Mireya is 26, Betzy is 20, Francisco Jr. is 19, Carlos is 11, Daniel is 9 and I am 22 years old. Both of my parents were born in Mexico and came to the U.S. in the late '60s or early '70s. They met here in the U.S. and married in Mexico, but have lived here since the beginning of their marriage. All six children were born in the U.S.-making us all first generation North Americans.

Being first generation American means being part of a unique culture-one in which you have to know Spanish better than Mexicans and know English better than 'Americans.' I think we all tried to adjust to this mixing of two cultures by laughing at all the experiences we (my siblings and I) shared. In Mexico we would be called gringos, while in the U.S. we were called wetbacks. In the U.S., saying you had five other siblings would cause people to say, "Wow, there are so many of you." In Mexico people would say, "There are 10 or 11 of us in my family." These insults and differences used to hurt and confuse me. Many times I found myself trying to see who I was or what values I wanted from which culture. It was a struggle. But I would not change my Mexican heritage or my American citizenship for anything in the world.

To add to our common experiences, my siblings and I also joked about the fact we were low income. I'll put it in these terms, the average Santa Clara University graduate has a greater income by himself or herself than both of my parents combined-who happen to support six children and my maternal grandmother. There were many times my mother handed me her last three dollars for the week (on Tuesday) so we could buy pan de dulce (Mexican sweet bread). I remember eating leftovers a lot as a child. In fact, one time we ate chicken the entire week, which made my dad swear he was growing wings. God bless my father whose mother died when he was nine, and whose father abandoned him. My father has been an awesome dad. He has worked himself up from ground zero to a managerial position at the factory where he works. He has worked practically his entire life to support us and to make sure that we had a roof over our head, food on the table, clothes to wear, and were never on welfare.

I thank God for my mother, whose savvy knowledge in using coupons has saved our family hundreds of dollars, which she used to put us in private school. As an instructional aide at a public high school, she knows the difference between a private and public school and wanted to give us the best education. Her strength and determination to protect her family has guided us throughout the years. I believe my parents' love for us all made us forget we were low income. Or maybe we did not realize we were poor because everyone around us in Inglewood was in the same boat or worse. I do not remember when we all came to the conclusion that we were low income; all I know is we used sense of humor to accept the frustrating days of having no money-not even enough to buy 25-cent candy. As for me, my social class really hit me when I came to SCU. If I knew being low-income would make me feel how I did sometimes at SCU. I might have chosen another school.

So, in a country were the majority of the people in power are predominately Caucasian, heterosexual, upper-middle class income, Christian, and male; here I am. I am Mexican, low income, trying to find which religion fits me, and female. Many times I feel like I really stand out, and not necessarily in a good way. In fact, I am positive sometimes people wonder how I ended up in college-especially Santa Clara.

My decision to come to college initially was partly based on being told by high school academic counselors and extended family members that I would amount to nothing except being barefoot and pregnant. I remember the meeting I had with my academic counselor when I told him I wanted to go to college. He looked at me, smiled and then said college was "real tough stuff," and although I had a 4.0 grade point average, I should "seriously think about it," and not make any "drastic decisions." He made me doubt myself for a while, but I wanted to show others I could do more than what was expected of the average Latina in the U.S.

Without his support, I began to research colleges and was thinking of attending Loyola Marymount in Southern California. A family friend, Nanette Grimes, told me about Santa Clara University. She was a professor at the University of California, Santa Cruz and knew my ultimate goal was to become a lawyer. She told me Santa Clara University School of Law was well-respected. I requested the information, filled out the confusing application by myself, sent it in, got accepted, and sent in my deposit. I later had the headache of filling out my first set of financial aid papers. Now, I was born in the U.S. and was educated in English my entire academic career, but I wondered in what language those financial aid papers were written and who understands them the first time they read through them? It took me longer to fill out my financial aid papers than the actual application to the University. All this made me wonder if I had made the right decision. After all, I would be the first person in my entire family to attend college as well as the first woman in my extended and immediate family who would be leaving home not on vacation or to get married but to pursue a higher education. I remember some did not believe I was leaving for college. They thought I was taking a leave because I was trying to hide a pregnancy.

My first visit to Santa Clara University was during Preview Days. My parents and brother, Cisco, drove up from Los Angeles with me. I remember a long and tiring drive and getting lost at least four times before finding the campus. My parents were beginning to worry because everywhere we stopped to ask for directions people would say, "I've never heard of Santa Clara University." At one point I think they thought I would end up in a rat-hole. Yet, I knew I made the right decision the moment I saw the roses. Yes, it may sound petty that roses finalized my decision, but you have to see Santa Clara roses if you do not know what I am talking about. The beauty of this campus is enough to convince most of attending SCU.

My first year was difficult. Being a first generation college student made me face many challenges that most of my peers did not. I was in classes with students whose great grandparents had attended SCU, and when we would introduce ourselves, I could not say much about the education my family had received. I focused more on the bond that I shared with my parents and family. As if this was not enough I was clueless about what I was doing. I thought college was a continuation of high school. So, because I took Pre-Calculus in high school I took Calculus in college. I learned there is a huge difference between high school calculus and college-level calculus.

I found myself struggling and my professor suggested I should "Take a 'W.'" I wondered, "What in the world is a "W"? I was hesitant to ask my academic counselor, and I could not call home to ask my parents for advice. Although my parents have self-educated themselves in many aspects and are intelligent individuals, they cannot relate to the college experience. After my first quarter and struggling with academic jargon, I had to deal with registering for classes again. I met with my academic advisor, but I think it was hard for him to direct me because he did not know about my experience, and I was hesitant to inform him. I was overwhelmed with meeting university, school, and major requirements. Everyone kept telling me that the easiest way to fulfill all requirements was by "double dipping." Double dipping, to me, had always meant you dipped a piece of food in a dip, took a bite of it, and then dipped it again. It was rude and something you should avoid. Here it was again, more jargon. I wished I had been given a dictionary titled, How to Understand All the Stuff Your Professors Tell You in College. A confusing and frustrating start. That describes my first year as a first generation college student.

Being first generation was not the only obstacle I had. I suffered for being Latina. I was not readily accepted by the Latinos at SCU. A lot of Latinos come from agricultural communities. I knew nothing of what their struggles were and how different Latinos from city-ghettoes are from Latinos from agricultural cities. I mean, all I had learned about Cesar Chavez was that he caused a strike that raised the prices of lettuce and grapes. When Latinos from Salinas, Watsonville, and Gilroy found out how little I knew, they were upset to say the least. They asked how I could not know about "labor wages" and "working conditions without pesticides." I had to educate myself about the struggles of the people I thought were the most similar to me, yet I was so different from them and didn't share the same struggles. Neither my parents nor anyone else in my family had ever worked in the fields. I did not know they had had these struggles. After all, my struggles had always involved gangs and how to avoid getting shot. They knew very little of my struggles.

On top of this, I must admit the greatest challenge of being Latina was associated with ignorant comments I heard or was told by non-Latinos. One evening, I visited a friend in another residence hall. After talking to some of the girls on her floor, a blue-eyed, blonde "complimented" me by saying, "Wow. You speak English very well. I can hardly notice your accent. When did you get here [The U.S.]?" I laughed, thinking she was joking, but I soon realized that she genuinely was impressed. I responded, "I was born here." She then looked at me, confused. In class, I was always the brown girl in the corner of my classrooms. As a political science major we often talked about propositions and I had the joy of being asked at least three times, "What do your people think," as if "my people" were a whole different species or as if I was the representative for all Mexicans.

Culturally, ethnically, racially, I was in shock. The area I lived in Inglewood was so homogenous. We were all Latinos, we knew about gangs and drive-by-shootings, not agriculture or propositions and how they affect different groups. Race was hardly ever a topic of our conversations. We only talked about race during the Los Angeles Riots of 1992. But at Santa Clara, race was a constant subject among students, staff, and professors. All this was a real eye-opener. It made me see things differently and question many experiences. Now, when I look back on my childhood, I see there were times I was discriminated against but did not realize it.

Then, there was the economic factor. If I kept a tally of the most common phrase I said, I bet it would be, "Why am I so poor?" I never realized the importance of money until I came to Santa Clara. I worked every quarter at least 30 hours a week. I had to supply my own money for personal expenses and for books. Buying books was a real struggle for me. I hated the fact we had vacation time before each quarter. While vacation meant a break for everyone, to me, it meant I did not work during that time and had to wait to save money for books. This meant I tended to buy my books a week or two after classes started. I remember a fellow hall-mate called her father at 3 a.m. and said, "Daddy, can I get $4000? I need to buy books, go shopping, and pay for my trip." I was in awe when she hung up saying, "Thanks, Daddy. So you'll deposit the money tomorrow? Good night." I would never have even dreamed of calling my parents with that question. I could not call my parents for book money because it would be futile. With five children still at home, they were often short on cash as well. Besides, telling them would only make them stress and I did not want them to worry about me.

I look back and wonder how I made it to graduation. Many times, I felt I would not make it. There were too many obstacles; it was too tiring. It was frustrating for me to see students who had the luxury of not having to work while attending college. I on the other hand had to learn all the academic information that was not "common knowledge" for me while working at on-campus and off-campus jobs. I was still expected to do the same amount of class work as everyone else. It seemed unfair to me. But I had to survive, and I survived by improving the situation for others and myself.

Because I never learned the academic jargon at home, I spent hours reading about it in the Student Handbook. I did not know where to go for what on campus, so I got involved in as many departments as I could, and because I was experiencing culture shock; I joined Presenting Real Issues Surrounding Multiculturalism (PRISM). No one was available to help guide me, so I learned leadership skills through the Emerging Leaders Program. There was very little support at SCU for people like me, so I became a founder of Sigma Lambda Gamma National Sorority Inc., a Latina-based multicultural sorority. My sorority sisters became my family away from home and held the same drive to help others as I did. I found myself helping others at all costs. I did not want anyone else to experience what I did. I informed others of resources they could use. I helped others before helping myself. In the end an average week for me included 30 hours of work, 15 hours plus of extracurricular activities, 30 hours plus of classes and school work, and sleep became minimal. I wore myself thin.

Was it worth it? Yes, because I met many great people who supported me and who I consider close friends. If I had not been involved, I would not have met the people who many times grounded me and reminded me of my ultimate goal. People who would later help me when I needed it.

It was also worth it because I educated the staff and administration I came in contact with about my struggles. It is only through education and by having people become aware of what is going on in the lives of many SCU students that people can address and help the issue. Education and sensitivity to students' differences is key.

Last but not least, my efforts were worth the end result because I know my sacrifice was minor compared to the sacrifices many before me made. I am hoping that our sacrifices will help in the future and our stories will not be repeated.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Thank you to all who helped me achieve my dream of being the first in my family to graduate from college. I would not have made it without your support. I would especially like to thank my mom, dad, Mimi, Betzy, 'Cisco, Carlos, Danny, and Nina Myrna for all the love they gave me, and the character they helped me build. Thanks to Ruben for loving and supporting me like no one else has before. Thanks to the Sisters of Sigma Lambda Gamma for understanding the challenges I faced; special thanks to Christina, Diana, Paulina, Rosanna, & Sible. Thanks to the staff members that I worked with in the Housing and CSL Offices (Jeanne, Jen, Linda, Mags, Marc, & Patti). To all those that I met, even if we didn't agree on many issues, I learned from all of you, and I hope you learned from me as well.