5 Chapter Five “Anything is possible as long as you push forward to get where you want to be”: Determination and Joy as Engines of Hope
No matter how much family, community, friends, or mentors supported the students authors much of their success depended on their will power and determination. For example, student author Alvarez decided that her life would not be predetermined by poverty and racism. In an equally compelling story, student author Frost could only find her path after escaping from predatory men. Student author Luong confronted the “model minority” label that did not fit her life circumstances as she persisted in her medical career. Likewise, Maranghi persevered despite poverty, heavy family responsibilities, and discouraging high school counselors. As Maranghi shares, that counselors were unsuccessful in derailing Maranghi’s dream to pursue college:
Even the counselors at my high school doubted my ability to succeed in school. One even told me that I wouldn’t do well in college, they said to me “You are not the type of person that can handle the level of work required for college.” Part of that statement is true, higher education was not built for or intended for women, students from low-income families, or immigrant families, as well as many other people outside of that description.
The chapter ends, fittingly, with Mendez’s video of her first year at PSU (Class of 2021) and during COVID-19 pandemic’s first year (i.e., the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a global pandemic on March 11th, 2020). Mendez’s video shows that a pandemic year—like a life—“filled with so much loss” (Mendez) could also contain so much joy and promise: “This Freshman year I spent time with the ones I care about. Although this year was filled with so much loss, these are the moments that brought me joy and hope.”
Definition of Terms
Covid-19 pandemic. The co-editors are not defining COVID-19 as to its causes, symptoms, treatments, and worldwide impacts. However, we want to briefly remind future readers of COVID-19’s initial impacts on higher education and student college learning:
On March 11th, 2020, the World Health Organization declared the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreak a global pandemic. In response to the COVID-19 pandemic, universities had to make dramatic changes in order to prevent the spread of the virus. To protect students, faculty, and staff, many higher education institutions shifted to completely online instruction and closed their campuses during the spring 2020 semester. [. . . ]
As a result of these sudden changes, university students turned to their families for guidance and support. Campus closures meant that students residing in residence halls had to return home, a significant challenge for many students, especially those from out of state. As the pandemic progressed, universities spent most of the summer months planning for the fall 2020 and spring 2021 semesters, and many universities decided to shift to online only, hybrid, or socially distanced in-person education. Again, college students were forced to take online courses and make difficult decisions. Do they return to their university or transfer to a different institution? Do they live at home or move closer to campus? (Cai et al., 2022).
References
Cai, Q., LeBouef, S., Savage, M., & Dworkin, J. (2022). What happened when COVID-19 shut down in-person higher education? Parents speak out. About Campus: Enriching the Student Learning Experience, 26(6), 26–34. https://doi.org/10.1177/10864822221082695
Andrea Luong
I am Not Your Model Minority
When Professor David asked me to write about a lesson I have learned about life, I truly asked myself what does a 20-year-old have to offer to others around me? Let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Andrea, and I come from a Vietnamese family. I am a recent graduate of Portland State University Class of 2021 from OHSU-PSU School of Public Health. I graduated high school early, and I graduated college in 3 years. My future career goal is to become a Physician Assistant with the ultimate goal of traveling and providing healthcare to rural areas around the world. These are the lines I often used to introduce myself to others. Countless times in my life have I had people assume or make little comments about me, such as: “Oh, because you are Asian, you want to go into medicine”; or “Because you are Asian and graduated early, you must be really smart, and school comes easy for you.” I can tell you that both of these assumptions are false.
I can say that I have been independent all of my life. My parents got divorced when I was seven years old, which pushed me into the role of taking care of my younger brother. When I was growing up, I was constantly surrounded by the Vietnamese language, which made learning English in school a little harder. When I reached high school, I constantly felt that every year was a struggle, both academically and socially. I was working as a waitress at the age of 15. I always felt more mature than my high school peers. Knowing that I was graduating early helped me to thrive during my third year of high school. I was part of my high school’s first Girl’s Wrestling team. I started my own small business, making earrings after discovering that interest from my advanced 3-D art class portfolio. I also have to give credit to my art teacher who was the only Asian-American teacher at my high school. She believed in me and supported me during my last year in a way I never knew I needed.
Then, it was time for college to begin. Coming into college at 17 was pretty scary. I was anxious about my classes, the school work, and finding my way around PSU. Now, looking back at my 3 years at PSU, I realize that Ifound what type of classes worked best for me. I began to take risks to apply for programs and jobs, such as the Build Exito research program. I started to understand that some professors were there to support you, and others were less supportive. I gained experiences working in healthcare, conducting research, getting mentored support, mentoring others, and getting my Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) certification while still taking college classes. Having these experiences during college made me realize that I wanted to be out in the real world gaining more experiences, hence I was motivated to graduate in 3 years. Even though I have around 50 cousins, 5 aunts, 10 uncles, and both of my parents with college degrees, no one in my family is in healthcare, so finding people who were able to support me through my journey was especially important.
Through my educational journey, I had many people tell me that I should be enjoying my high school and college experiences and question why I was going so quickly. Let me tell you, I am the happiest I have ever been right now. I am currently in my gap year working as an EMT for a mobile urgent care company and making an impact in the lives I get to see and help. I also get to learn about each and every one of my patients’ struggles and stories. Most recently, I also started a community health medic position for Portland Fire & Rescue two new community health division programs: Portland Street Response and Community Health Assess & Treat. With the Portland Street Response program, I respond to calls relating to patients experiencing houselessness, substance use, or behavioral crisis. I learned to effectively communicate, gain trust, provide compassionate care, and advocate for houseless patients who lack trust in emergency responders. In the Community Health Assess & Treat program, I respond to patients calling 911 for acute and chronic medical issues that do not require emergency response. This position taught me to provide trauma-informed and culturally-informed education for vulnerable populations about their healthcare access. I continue to learn and grow as a person.
Looking back at my journey, I am proud of myself, even with all of the assumptions and struggles. This is my journey. My biggest advice for others is to make your own journey and be proud of it. Never compare yourself to others because everyone has their own unique stories and passions. No one can ever tell you who you should be or what your journey should look like. Along your journey, you will have people who will try to put you down, others who will support you, and you will be someone who inspires others.
Follow your heart. Find your passions. Take risks. And accomplish your goals. You won’t believe where it can take you and how it makes you feel.
Aline Alvarez
Barriers and Passions
I never really imagined I would be where I am today. I grew up in a home where right off the bat, I was destined to be a statistic: single-parent household, father in prison, immigrant family, Latina, first-generation American, English language learner, and the list could go on. These factors are very common in my culture as many Latinx youths carry the weight of so many circumstances, many of which they cannot avoid or control. It’s frustrating to think that because we grow up like this, the world already uses these circumstances as barriers to our success. Because of these barriers, we grow up with the mindset that we have to work ten times harder than our peers who don’t share the same circumstances and who don’t share the same “barriers.” Very early on I wanted to show that my culture is more than just a statistic, and that we are capable of accomplishing pretty much anything despite what we go through at home.
Throughout high school, I was a very introverted person. You wouldn’t catch me at any homecoming games or dances. You would probably find me at home watching reruns of CSI: New York, or working. I kept to myself and had a close knit group of friends. I got great grades: Not because I wanted to, but more because my Mom refused to let me or my sister fall into this pot of statistics. And also because my Mom truly scared me at the time, and I knew that if I had a failing grade, I would come home to the infamous chancla (our word for “sandals”) and the-very-common-Mexican-mom lecture where she would explain all of the sacrifices she has made for me and my sister. At 14, I was expected to work and contribute what I could at home. Growing up in a single-parent household, my mom alone could not provide for us on her own. So, both my sister and I had to take on the role of provider alongside my mom. I had to grow up fast, again not because I wanted to, but because I had to survive and support my family, from fast food jobs, retail, babysitting, whatever income I could bring into the household was crucial to whether we would have enough money to keep the heat and lights on. Like many Latinx youth in the same position, we dreamed of one day earning enough money to move our families out of the struggle and poverty we so commonly face. We dreamed about taking care of our parents so that they don’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn to work a crappy minimum wage job where they work away the rest of their lives. Not the American Dream but the Latinx Dream.
I took advantage of the fact that I was already busy working by also piling up volunteer hours. I figured by doing this, I could network and, in my high school mind, these volunteer programs would all of a sudden hire a little 16-year-old as their CEO. (I know, I had big dreams!) I knew realistically that wasn’t going to happen, so I kept doing what I was doing to eventually get there. Over time, I lost track of everything I was involved in. It became apparent that it wasn’t about my dream any more and more about my passion. I loved working with people and helping people. This has been a huge reason why I have always been involved in service work or, more specifically. service work in our educational system. Student life and environment are crucial to a person’s development, career, and overall future. Programs such as SUN (Schools United Neighborhoods) Latino Network, and IRCO (Immigrant Refugee Community Organization) are able to target school environments and provide extended services for students with backgrounds similar to mine. I think that’s why I kind of felt at home when I would volunteer with them because they understood the goals of a Latinx teen just trying to survive.
This brings me to where I am today and what I do. My senior year of high school, I applied to many universities. A majority of them accepted me without hesitation (which was great!) until you saw the cost of tuition, fees, books, all that “fun” stuff. I decided that Portland State University (PSU) would work best for me and it was probably one of the best decisions I have ever made. Being a first-generation student, I went into college pretty clueless and scared. I didn’t have anyone to help or guide me so I am appreciative that I was able to find my niche at the Multicultural Center and my FRINQ (Freshmen Inquiry) class with Professor David Peterson del Mar. While in college, I started to take the risk of actually applying for these student-life careers. Of course, rejection was common. I was still pretty young to be in this type of field as many districts and programs wanted paid experience, a Master’s or Bachelor’s Degree, certifications, etc. I still took the risk and experienced rejection and kept applying. Eventually, I ended up getting hired with Volunteers of America as an after-school program coordinator. This job gave me the experience I needed to then move on to my next career which was with Portland Public Schools. I was a Family Service Worker with the Head Start program which focused a lot on aspects of social work and family and student resources. This journey, of course, wasn’t easy. I wouldn’t say I was the best employee and that I did it perfectly in my field because I didn’t. It was a very big trial and error process for me as I was still learning so much, and I was also juggling my last two years of college. What kept me going was the people I was helping in the process. The passion.
With both of these experiences, I learned a lot about myself and my purpose. I was nearing my last year at PSU so I really had to reflect on what I wanted to do after graduating. I received a BA in Criminology and Criminal Justice.. I knew I wanted to continue working with youth. My end goal is to work with youth who have been put in a system already set up to fail them: Youth that could not overcome their “barriers.” By starting in the school system, we are able to help these youth before they are put into the correctional system. By being that mentor, role model, or friend, it can come a long way and make just enough impact in their lives and futures. I now work for the David Douglas High School District in Portland, Oregon as a Bilingual After-School Coordinator. A lot of the Latinx student population is underrepresented and underestimated. I run an after-school club Monday through Thursday where Latinx students can come in to do homework, connect with other Latinx peers, and learn about the Latinx cultures.
I didn’t really know what direction I wanted to go with when it came to writing this reflection. I just wanted to assure readers that regardless of your background, anything is possible if you take the risk of doing it. I am the product of taking risks, like many of the students I have worked with. The strength and resilience this new Latinx generation has is incredible, and I am thankful to be working with them as they teach me new things every day. I didn’t let these so-called barriers in my life stop me and I encourage you to do the same. Some days might be good and some days might be bad—no like, really, really bad. But trust me, it will get better, and you will succeed.
Amara Frost
I Don’t Need your Validation
Growing up when the internet was “new” was like the “Wild West”: people knew terrible things could happen, but the extent of what could happen, at least in a child’s mind, was not so bad. Grooming – when older adults approach children and set them up to meet with them with the intent to commit an offense upon that child – wasn’t something I knew of and not something that parents had been warned about, and people who preyed on children weren’t so widely talked about (or that’s how I remember it, at least). I went on all kinds of forums and met so many different people; I played the persona of someone older than I was at fourteen. My first encounter with this older man was the stereotypical story that you hear about predators; they tell you that you’re so mature for your age and that you’re special. You can’t help but be flattered. Fortunately, my mom found my chat logs and found my plans to meet with this older man. Nothing happened due to her diligence, but not many children my age were so lucky, and that’s why the show “To Catch a Predator” came into existence. In the aftermath, I pushed for therapy and my mom took the steps to get me the help I needed. Therapy helped me move past this situation and understand that I wasn’t to blame for what I faced and that the four other girls he was involved with weren’t to blame, either. However, it was because of mom’s intervention when I so desperately needed it, that I became aware of how my father never really existed in my life.
He took me out to eat– something that never happened without my siblings–because he said we needed to talk about what happened and what I experienced. I remember this dinner perfectly, and it often plays back in my mind. And as I had started to talk about it, he interrupted it and told me. “You didn’t have it as bad as me. I never did anything to you, so you didn’t have it as bad as me.” Rather than comfort his child, who had been about to be swept up in a dangerous situation–barely avoided thanks to the only present parental unit–he made it about himself. This lack of support had shaped me from as early as I could remember, and I think it’s what drove me to try and find validation elsewhere. I can’t blame him for all of the choices I’ve made in my life, but I think things would have been different; if I had a father in my life, one who was supportive and set the standard, I’d know the type of men to avoid and how to spot them.
I still remember how he always faked caring and faked his interest in what I did. He never really cared about his family; he was playing another role. His roles were the supportive and caring manager, the father who loved his child and wanted to show this by coaching for their sports. The other parents adored him, and the other kids loved him because he saw them and further supported them. And when another father challenged him for the role of the coach? He stopped entirely. He abandoned me in what wasn’t the first time, but certainly wasn’t the last. He showed such a disinterest in his children and gave no support beyond financial. If you were to ask me for details about the man called my father, I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything beyond the superficial details. I don’t have any memories of my father being there for me beyond rejecting my request for him to teach me how to play guitar at a young age, coaching softball in my early teens, or that dinner at sixteen. Our relationship as father and child set the stage for me to look for validation elsewhere. For several years I had a handful of toxic relationships, most of them with older men who would come to treat me just as terribly as my father had or who would lie to get what they wanted from me.
One of those older men became my husband. He was twelve years older than I was, set to groom me in similar patterns and, like my father, he was full of pretty lies and promises. He made himself out to be bigger than the world, and with an eleven-year difference between us, I couldn’t help but be swept in once more by an older man who would offer affection and validation that I subconsciously felt I lacked. He portrayed a man who was down on his luck because everyone was against him, and I was the only one who seemed to understand him. As he once said, our souls were made for each other, and I believed it. We married less than a year after meeting, and I followed him to Canada, where he slowly isolated me from my family and set the stage for me to be molded into something just for him. The strong, competent man I thought I had married soon became a child. He couldn’t do anything without me by his side: he couldn’t cook without me in the kitchen, though he was a chef by trade. He couldn’t keep a job. He fought with his bosses and got fired more times than I care to remember. My savings that I built up since the age of seventeen? It was gone in less than a year because he lost all sense of stability. We ran out of food because he was out of work, and when he went to his cooking jobs, I could only hope that he would remember to bring something back for me to eat. I starved for a few days until we managed to get set up at the food bank. I wondered a few times in the winter if I would slip on the ice and break my back trying to get the food back home. It went on for a year before I could get my Canadian residency, which would finally allow me to work.
I got a job three days after. I had never worked in an office before, but I showed them my desire to work, my desire to learn, and I was fast to learn. I had never touched an Excel spreadsheet outside of school but said I could do formulas in the interview, then went home and taught myself quickly through online tutorials. I learned that I could be independent, that I didn’t have to let someone speak for me, to make the decisions for me. I built my confidence in this job and started to grow into myself. But with that self-realization came the conflict: I no longer was the doll he wanted me to be.
The first time I ordered for myself at a restaurant, he got mad. He told me that I usually let him order for me and that I should let him do it still. I told him I didn’t see the point when I could say what I wanted. Soon, I talked about going to college, and I had a general idea of what I wanted. I was now twenty, going on twenty-one, and really starting to try and understand who I was. He didn’t like that and insisted that whatever college I went to, he would go, too. He’d take all the same classes and do everything that I did so that I’d never be without him. He couldn’t let me out of his sight because something would go wrong. When I insisted I do it on my own, he decided that college was dumb and that he’d hire me a private tutor to teach me whatever I wanted. The fights grew worse, and the more I fell out of love with the illusion he created of himself. He began making emotional threats, saying that he’d die if I left him, saying if I ever left him he could never have children because he was bound to one woman his whole life.
The worst was when he threatened sexual assault to “fix me” and “make me love him.” I told him not to come home for a week, and I told his mother why. She was a light in my time in Canada, always supporting me when he became too much. She helped set up a counselor for us to see, though it was through her church. I knew she meant well, and I’m sure the pastor meant well, too. But, I don’t think anyone was equipped to handle this man and his delusions.
Counseling only made things worse. The emotional and mental threats got worse, and I felt myself spiraling into a crippling depression and an anger that was so encompassing that I think I never felt anything else. Only sadness and anger were present in those times. I tried to calculate the best way to take control of the car’s wheel to go into oncoming traffic to where he’d be gone, and if I were lucky, I’d just have some broken bones. I never went further than just the thought.
I packed my bags after. All of my possessions were in bags for three months, and he never noticed. I mailed my computer to my mother’s home, and he never questioned why. His mom took me to the airport one morning, and I tried to give her CAD 300 just to thank her for everything she’d done for me with an excuse that it was for the trouble of giving me a ride. She said no, so I handed it to my husband’s youngest sister. I got to the airport and felt entirely numb when I emailed her that I had no intention of returning–I emailed because he never got me a phone–and she knew.I left behind my beloved dog because I couldn’t fly with him, and I couldn’t find a way to make the more than thirteen-hour drive. My dog was sacrificed for a better life because he would have tried to tie me to him using my dog. I left behind my emotions because when I came back, I felt nothing. My mom said I was a very ‘zen’ person when I returned from Canada, and she had never met anyone so unfazed. To help with feeling nothing, I threw myself into two jobs; I worked out intensely–two hours a day for six days a week. I was determined to have a body shape that my ex-husband would find disgusting. And for half a year, I lived without emotions and threw myself into everything without restraint.
Eventually, the emotions crept back in, and I felt listless and lost. I realized that so many of my decisions from the age of eighteen through twenty-one, going on twenty-two, had been influenced by those around me. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself. I got into the pharmacy as a technician purely because it paid close to my previous income, and it was suggested to me as what seemed like a good idea. Eventually, drama sent me off to pursue another type of pharmaceutical work in the form of long-term care. Unfortunately, this job seemed to bring another wave of lousy luck and drama while also being swept into another toxic relationship. This relationship involved me giving more than I was given back, bending over backward for this man when he would occasionally offer his hand or the barest hints of affection. He would never say he loved me, like I really had to earn the minimal amounts of affection. I left the long-term care pharmacy and found myself in a tech company in Portland.
This was a new experience for me–both banking and tech, but I think I took off running with it. In previous companies, I was rarely complimented so freely. I was eventually promoted into the position that caused me the second most amount of stress in my life. It wasn’t all bad, as I had earned myself enough money to take my first solo trip across the world and began realizing how independent and strong I could be.
I went to Japan alone but met a friend who had been teaching there for three years. After a week of crashing at his place, I flew to Osaka alone. I saw a movie in Japanese, explored the aquarium, and hopped on a train to Kyoto one day and Tokyo another. I felt free when exploring Japan and felt all the stress of my job melt away. One day, despite all the positives, I was dragged down by the memories and plans I had made with my last partner; we had ended our relationship well before the trip, but it was one we had planned to make together. All the bending over backward I did in the relationship made me realize how much stress he had been giving me in addition to my job. I cried for hours that morning until I pulled myself together and forced myself out of my Airbnb. I want to say that this was when I realized that I didn’t need validation from anyone, and I think it was the starting point, because it was the first time my self-talk focused on how far I had come and how I had made this trip all on my own.
When I came back, the stress of my job almost swallowed me once more. But now I decided to stand up for myself after remembering that I could. I had ended my bad relationship with my partner, and I had the guts to travel alone; so I could walk away from a stressful job that brought me no joy. In the pursuit of joy and in finding myself, I found a new job. But, despite finding it, I wasn’t sure how I would or could grow in the company, though they would often ask as part of our yearly reviews. They asked me to set goals, to figure out how I wanted to further grow, but it wasn’t a question I could answer when I still didn’t fully understand myself as a person. While I started to think on these questions I was required to answer, my trip abroad lingered in the corners of my mind; I was inspired to continue to see more of the world. I was inspired to live somewhere new. In Japan, I felt so relaxed. I woke up with the sun, with no worries, and even found peace on the busy trains. Everything ran as it should, and any delays would garnish apologies from the station staff. I felt like I never wanted to leave and that the home I knew wasn’t where I longed to be. Upon remembrance of inspiration, I decided that I’d pursue education abroad, to be somewhere that wasn’t where I was born and raised. At the age of thirty-one, I began college with that goal in mind and did far better than I had ever imagined. I spent so long feeling lost, going with the flow that others had dictated for me, and now, I’m finally pursuing what I want–free of other’s interference or opinions. I no longer need the validation from a father figure; all I need is the validation of my Self.
Isabella Maranghi
Untitled
When asked to look back and speak about my past and the series of events that brought me to where I am today, I thought to myself “I can’t believe that I am doing this,” and then I immediately interrupted myself and thought “why not me?”
Success is a funny thing; it comes in all shapes, sizes, and amounts, and yet we are never really expecting it; at least I wasn’t. I grew up in a low-income household with three brothers and sisters. My father had the privilege to go to college, and my mother never was able to complete high-school. Growing up, I had a very distinct role. I took care of my younger siblings, brought them to doctors, made sure they got to school, had clean clothes to wear, and got their schoolwork done. I was there for their meetings with teachers and school advisors. While spending my entire life taking care of my family, I never thought that I would be the one to go to school and make a whole other life for myself. Even the counselors at my high school doubted my ability to succeed in school. One even told me that I wouldn’t do well in college, they said to me “You are not the type of person that can handle the level of work required for college.” Part of that statement is true, higher education was not built for or intended for women, students from low-income families, or immigrant families, as well as many other people outside of that description. What the counselor failed to understand is that determination and a willingness to overcome struggle goes further than what is easy ever will. This counselor believed that because I fell outside the lines of their assumptions about who could be successful in college, I would fail.
It would have been easy for me to accept my position and live the rest of my life without ever trying to be more than what others thought of me, but I didn’t. I chose what was hard. I chose to challenge the beliefs so many had about me and people like me. Some of the challenge (if not most of it) came from myself and my own self-deprecating thoughts. There were times I thought I wouldn’t make it to graduation or even the next week of classes. I have told myself so many times that I wasn’t good enough. I remember crying on the phone to my father, begging him to let me quit because I convinced myself I couldn’t do it. He never gave in, and I can never thank him enough for that. The journey I have been on has brought me immense amounts of challenges but also a great deal of pride. In Italian we say, “nonostante tutto,” which means “in spite of everything.” Think about that the next time you are feeling like you do not belong. Think about the times you could have quit and did not, think about all the things you had to work though to be here. Be proud of where you have come from, how far you have gotten, and all the possibilities you still have.
I had to teach myself that I deserved to be at school, and I was capable of achieving all that I want in life. That path for yourself is not always clear, and it certainly is often not easy, but there is always a way to get there. Education, especially higher education is not a fair playing field, some will become successful with ease and others will find obstacle after obstacle. I want you to know that just because you might not fit in someone’s categories or assumptions of who succeeds does not mean you don’t deserve the chance to or are not able to. I urge you to ask yourself “why not me?” when you feel like an imposter or like you don’t deserve to be in the classroom. List all the things you had to overcome just to be sitting in the classroom. You are incredible, and you are deserving.
Yahzee Mendez
Hope and Community
Editors’ note. This is solely a story-telling video contribution:
