Doing College Move-In Day the Right Way

Move-In Day (or Weekend) has an extremely special place in my heart because it signifies the start of something transformative, particularly for first-generation college students and their families. I still remember the day our mom dropped my twin and me off for what would be some of the most life-changing years of our young adult life. We were the first in our family to go to college, and it meant my mom would be leaving, not one, but two children in a remote town 7 hours from home for four years. Only God knows what my mom was thinking the day she dropped us off, but I am sure glad she came along for the ride.

My twin joined the Corps of Cadets, so her move-in time was different than mine. I was the first to get dropped off at my residence hall. I waited in a LONG line of students to pick up my room key. While I stood in line, I saw students and their families arriving in their trucks and cars and starting to unload. My anxiety began to go out the roof as I started to see the type of items students were unloading. Organizers upon organizers of stuff, televisions, microwaves, refrigerators, bedding - everything I eventually came to know as "stuff for college". I immediately questioned my place at Texas A&M. I thought, "I cannot even pack right for college, what makes me think I can do college?"  I hate that I always get these small voices of doubt in my head when it comes to doing something different, something uncomfortable, and out of the ordinary for my family. But I also appreciate the level of confidence my humble beginnings as a migrant farmworker instilled in me. I let myself get into these doubts, but then I find the courage to push them aside and keep moving forward! If I could work 8hrs for 6 days in the dead of the heat, then I can do this! So, I recentered my energies and focused on the day's mission - to move in!

Eventually, I got my room key and made my way to my room on the fourth floor of the residence hall. By the time I got there, my family had already taken all my belongings up four flights of stairs. Next up, was my twin. We got to the Corps of Cadets drop-off area where current students took my sister's belongings and escorted us to her room. They briefly showed families the residence halls and corps area, and then they were asked to leave! Oh my gosh, we lost it! Haha. You mean we cannot help her set up her room? You mean we can't go have lunch with her? You mean I won't see her at all today?! (I might be exaggerating, but felt like ripping a band-aid off!). I was so close to my sister that this would be the first time I would not see her for a consecutive number of days.

(My mom after climbing those four flights of stairs with my belongings: an organizer, a pillow, my San Marcos blanket, detergent, my backpack, and what looks like two boxes, and I think a large duffle bag of clothing)

My mom and I decided to head back to my room and set it up before she had to hit the road back home. It was a rough experience, but very eye-opening. We were not prepared for the abrupt separation. I think we thought that we would be, but we weren't, and I don't think any family is, much less first-generation families. I remember my mom telling us how she drove in tears the entire way back home - 7hrs, in tears. She had just let go of one daughter to the army a year ago, and now she had to let go of two. I am sure it was hard on her, and I am sure it still is.

Nonetheless, college move-in day for me signifies discomfort, heartache, challenge, and humility. There is no one right way to do college move-in day. With the help of administrators and current students, the level of anxiety and separation can be managed for both student and family. Today, when I am able to make it to move-in days as a volunteer, I look for those students and families who might need a little pep talk during the process to help alleviate those anxieties.

Graduate School and Food Insecurity

This post is really about my new understanding of food insecurity. Of the four institutions, I have worked at and been a student, Michigan State University has by far the best food pantry students could ask for. Growing up my family experienced food insecurity in different ways. We participated in and benefitted from programs such as food stamps, WIC, and EBT (all the same, I know). Anyhow, as a migrant farmworker, I grew up with messages such as "we were poor, which meant we probably did not eat well, which also meant we were not educated" (just some labels I internalized growing up). Therefore, I learned that food pantries were for poor, uneducated people.

After years of reconciling with the labels I grew up to hate, I have come to accept my past as a form of education and awareness. In my first year of graduate school, I learned that students may qualify for food stamps (WOAH, my mind was blown! side note: I learned this from the students I worked with). Therefore, when I decided to go back to school, I knew I wanted to explore all the ways in which I would be able to save money and make smart decisions. After a few months of living on a graduate student stipend and trying to keep up with the eating habits I created when I was a working professional, I realized I could not do that without some assistance. I applied for food stamps and qualified for $15 a month for groceries. I know what you are thinking, "That is not enough for a week of groceries" or "Food stamps is only for poor people".  One thing we often forget to realize is that college students are poor and need help, especially with the rising costs of higher education. With these $15, I decided to participate with MSU's food pantry. (Ya'll, the amount of food that we are able to receive through this program is insane!)

First, the food pantry is open every two weeks (I believe) or twice a month.

Second, to participate, you must be an enrolled student at MSU. Just bring your ID and academic schedule.

Third, they have standard products everyone has access to, and you get to choose how many of each you would like or would like to pass on. There is a standard number for each product we can take.

Fourth, there is a selection of fresh produce, bread, dairy, and other items you can select from on a first-come, first-serve basis.

My first experience with the process was overwhelming. Food insecurity is the limited access to nutritious and safe foods and the uncertainty of being able to acquire food (Nord & Prell, 2007). Surely, I did not experience food insecurity, or so I thought. My assumption was that because I had experience working full time and had a "job" then I would never experience food insecurity. After learning more about food insecurity, I came to understand how I, in fact, did not have access to good food because there were a few items I could not afford food, or there were moments where I would try to save money by eating everything in my cabinet first before going shopping even if that meant eating a can of beans for dinner (which I love doing, I love beans!). But is that healthy eating I thought? I dug deeper in my understanding of food insecurity and realized that my experience with food insecurity was similar to that of growing up. We did not have access to most healthy foods and we also had moments of "Let's see what's in the kitchen for dinner - ramen it is!" (We loved ramen growing up! But who doesn't?!). Food insecurity was that too - easy, quick, and inexpensive! So even though we might have had food in our kitchen, it was not the most healthy, and what's even more unfortunate is that these governmental food assistance programs only cover the most basic, often times unhealthy food options.

So, with a campus food pantry that had access to some healthy options, I decided to share my new found appreciation and understanding of the food pantry with my other graduate friends who were in the same boat as me - trying to save money, trying to eat healthy, and trying to meal prep. I say, if you are considering going back to school and are worried about maintaining a healthy eating lifestyle, consider if the school you intend on applying to has an accessible food pantry and look into governmental food assistance programs. I get my most basic needs with food stamps (which I may discontinue in the future - another conversation) and supplement it with what I get at the food pantry.

Below is a picture of one night's collection at the food pantry. Milk, apple juice, a WHOLE dozen of eggs (side note: I almost cried at the thought of being able to take a full carton of eggs home, I think the student staff might have thought I was overreacting, but this was my first time too), MSU Dairy Cheese (the best!), beans, corn, a can of Rotel (made me some mean cabbage soup with it #noms), chicken noodle soup (which I supplemented with a grilled cheese sandwich), peanut butter (which I ate with bananas, apples, and overnight oatmeal), raisins, peaches, applesauce, snack bars, Ritz crackers, and Oreos (mind you, we do not need to get all of this). I would have left the cookies and ritz crackers, but I also like to be considerate of my sweet tooth and snack tooth. I do not believe in diets, so I tend to have my sodium and sugars in moderation. But as you can see, I can supplement this with some spinach, rice, and protein, like chicken.

I share this story (1) to be honest about my own experiences with food insecurity and (2) to humanize the experience of food pantries and food assistance programs. It is my strong believe that there are communities out there, specifically communities of color and poor families, who need access to programs like these while at the same time deserve access to healthy food options. So my question to you is: Have you experienced food insecurity growing up, as a student, and/or as a professional? 

"You are not an immigrant"

So many times I have heard the phrase "You are not an immigrant", or the likes of "you are not an illegal immigrant", or "our family are not immigrants", etc, I can go on. Whenever I get into conversations, or arguments, on immigration reform I always hear those phrases. Phrases that act to erase my family's history and the history of Latinos in this country. Perhaps the people saying it and who firmly believe it, are going through their own internalized oppressive journey to liberation, or maybe not.

I remember growing up in deep south Texas surrounded by a mix of Hispanics who did not like to be referred to as Mexican-Americans, who refused to be associated to the label as if being Mexican-American meant you were less than, inferior to Hispanics. And then there were those Hispanics who proudly spoke Spanish, wore their Mexican jerseys and guayaberas proudly. Being the naive and impressionable kid I was, I grew up so confused as to who I was and where I came from. As a family, we would do our yearly treks to Mexico, take the libre down to San Luis Potosi to visit my mom's family. It was like migrating all over again but to Mexico this time. So, between travels to Minnesota and North Dakota in the summers and Mexico in the springs, who was I? What was my family?

I was born in McAllen, TX to a migrating family. My father was part of a legacy of migrant farmworkers, where working the fields was a family tradition, our income, the way of life. I do not know fully my father's immigrant story, but what I do know is that my grandfather would cross the states looking for labor work in the fields. He was born in Mexico and so was my grandma, and my father. So they are immigrants to this country. My mother married into my father's family and thereby became a farm laborer as well. My mother's story is the one I want to focus on. It is with her permission that I share this. 

My mother was born in the poverty-stricken ranchos of San Luis Potosi Mexico in 1963. At a young age, her mother would then give her up to her aunt who brought her to the U.S. Our maternal grandmother birthed 12 kids, 4 of which outsurvived the deserts of SLP and for some, border crossings. My mother jokes around with her oldest brother about who they would have become had they stayed in their beloved rancho. I can see in mom's eyes the love she has for SLP and for the small family she has left in Mexico. Despite having left at such a young age, my mom and my uncle still make strides to stay connected with family in Mexico, and because of them, we still continue to be connected as well. My mom's naturalization process is another story. According to my dad, he tried to help my mom get her citizenship when they married, but it never materialized. Eventually, through former president, George Bush's amnesty program of 1990, my mother was able to become a naturalized citizen. All I remember from that night was waiting hours upon hours for my mom to come out of whatever building we were at. It was almost close to midnight when she came out. My sisters and I had to have been 5 years old when that happened. I was exhausted and just wanted to go home. I never understood the gravity of that night until I grew up and began to understand our history's struggle with immigration reform.

(My parents on the back of pick up truck somewhere in North Dakota) 

Sometimes I think about how blessed my mother and father were to have immigrated during a time where the word "immigrant" or "Mexican" did not carry such negative connotations. But even thinking of the word "blessed" is so contradicting. Am I really blessed, or were we just one of the lucky ones? Nowadays, rhetoric is filled with so much fate and fear-mongering undertones that no one in my community is safe. Just today, I read an article about how naturalized citizens are now vulnerable to deportation as well. Old police records are being dug up on naturalized citizens in order to use their history against them and deport them. What have we become? Are we not a country of immigrants? Did our founders fight for nothing? Who are you?

I am a proud child of immigrants, a child of farm laborers, a daughter to a father who literally still breaks his back to feed America. I am also my mother's mother's dream who dreamt of a better future for her daughter. Had my mom's mom not thought about the future of her daughter, my family would not be here today. My mother oftentimes reflects on her mother's wish to send her away. How does a mother reconcile the love she has for daughter when she sends her away? There are thousands upon thousands of mothers with their children at the border desperate for a better and safer life for their offspring. This is my mother's tale, except my mother, came with her aunt and they were not separated at the border.

If you are looking for ways to #keepfamiliestogether, here are two ways borrowed from my dear friend, Alejandra: 
1) Contact your reps.

Identify your reps. (https://www.contactingcongress.org/) Save their numbers in your phone. 

If you're not sure what to say, consider subscribing to a resource like the Americans of Conscience Checklist (https://docs.google.com/…/1zUyqluASyMjyIGCHfwocwmul…/preview).

2) Donate. A good list to start can be accessed here: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/14/opinion/children-parents-asylum-immigration.html

Writing with a Purpose

Since starting my doctorate program, I have reflected on different life choices and the reasons for making them. I left Texas to pursue my master's degree for myself. I wanted to grow as an individual and I knew leaving Texas and leaving my comfort zone would help me develop into a more confident and resilient individual. It was definitely a life-changing and life-altering experience that I needed at the moment of my life. I engaged in multiple levels of diversity work and difficult conversations I would not have otherwise received in Texas, at least not in the way I experienced it in Vermont. However, I knew I wanted to come back to Texas. I missed my family, I missed my state, and I missed my comfort zone. I came back a transformed person ready to transform Texas! So the decision to get my master's was for myself.

Today, I am done with year one of my doctoral program and am once again I am being pushed out of my comfort zone, this time it is my academic skills - comprehension, analytics, writing, etc. I thought I knew it all. I struggled so much this first year. I struggled to find a rhythm to my writing, to find a pattern to my reading, and to find my lens. What was I looking for in the readings? Why is my lens on these readings important? How do I process these readings to make sense of them in terms of my research and experiences? Imposter syndrome was so real. I never experienced imposter syndrome to this extent. I mean, as a first-generation college student I made it through my undergraduate degree. My master's experience was difficult but I made it through that too. So, I was sure to make it through this program with flying colors.

This new blog is going to be about practicing my writing and making sense of the things happening around me. They say that if you do not like reading or writing, then a doctoral program is not for you. It is not that you will not be able to understand the material, it is more about the amount of reading and writing one will undertake to complete a doctorate degree. Luckily, I like both. For me, the challenge is staying committed and empowered to push through the amount of reading and writing without succumbing to bad voices in my head telling me to stop.

I am a former migrant farmworker student. I traveled with my family to the fields of North Dakota and Minnesota for about 15-18 years of my life. I worked alongside my family for 8 years in the sugar beet and soybeans of Minnesota, and one year of detasseling corn in Illinois. I know first hand the lessons of hard work, the pain of callused hands, and annoyance of mud, grasshoppers, and mosquitos. I decided to return to school for my PhD because I still have the undying passion to give voice to the children and families who harvest our food. Most importantly, I want to explore the significant role parents and family members play in the college choice process for many first-generation college students, like migrant farmworker students. My master's degree was for myself, but this PhD is for the voiceless migrants all over our nation.

So, if you are interested in going back to school, whether it is an associates degree, a bachelors degree, a second bachelors degree, a masters degree, a second masters degree, a third masters! Or a PhD, find your purpose first. It is what will help keep you burning the midnight oil.

Thank you for reading my blog, and I hope you are able to get something out of it, even if its an example of 'bad writing'. My hope in writing this blog is to share my thoughts, my experiences, and also to improve my writing for the ultimate dissertation.