Mexican Immigration Narrative

Words: 545
Pages: 3

“Karina, pon los pies en la tierra” were my mother’s often-emphasized words of advice, directing me to avoid distractions and embrace the philosophy of ‘keeping your feet firmly planted on the ground’. Daydreaming or falling victim to distractions was never an option for my Mexican family. We endured a full year of separation from my father, as he humbly accepted an immigrant’s dishwasher job. He worked tirelessly in order to finance the immigration expenses of his wife and children who had been left behind to endure the crime, poverty and desperation of our village.

As a monolingual Spanish-speaking four-year old, my vision of a welcoming home became our small, cramped camper parked in a Colorado R.V. park. A year later, my kindergarten teacher accepted me with my bumbling grammar and thick accent while making me feel like the smartest little girl in class—her transfusion of hope and self-confidence will never be repaid but will also never be forgotten. My childhood and early adolescence was marked by a deep desire to fit in among peers and life became a battle for perfect
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Thus, accessing the more demanding curriculum and resources offered in a neighboring town’s public school after junior year required transferring and recreating my social support network while spending hours in public transportation. Glenwood Springs’s Pre-Collegiate Program taught me leadership, networking, and scholarship-searching skills in order to find scarce funds dedicated to undocumented students—the blessed dollars that eventually financed my undergraduate tuition. Throughout high school, volunteering as a catechism instructor distracted me from my personal struggles and fed my hunger to be of service. Volunteerism has always been a blessing and served as the cornerstone of my adolescent