Read, reflect, process, read, create and connect to class theorizing and lived experiences, witnessing of the world.

The poem Tlatelolco reminds me of the all to familiar story within my own family. My grandparents were adamant that their eight children (my mom & her siblings) graduate from high school. They also implored their children to go to college or a technical school. All but one went to college. The boys registered for the draft and went to war but when they returned, two of the three went to college and graduated. The other earned a technical degree. Four of the five girls all went to college and graduated. The one that didn't struggled in school and dropped out after a semester. My grandfather especially was insistent on his girls getting a college education. He saw his own sisters, all of his family born in the U.S., struggling without higher education degrees. My mom and her sisters that did go to college all went to and graduated from Texas Woman's University in Denton with Bachelors degrees. My mom and two of her sisters earned graduate degrees as well. 

My grandparents would later tell us, the grandchildren, that they expected us to follow in the footsteps of our parents by graduating high school and going to college. We were/are well versed in the knowledge of what it took to establish our family in Texas, for them to make a living in the RGV beginning in the 1930's. They knew what it meant and what it took to work 50-70 hour work weeks. They new that they had to work twice as hard as their non- Hispanic neighbors in the RGV.

My grandfather passed away in 1996. My grandmother in 2008. I hear their voices as I read this poem. 

The play, A Cross for Maclovio did not resonate with me like the aforementioned poem.

Though with both pieces I did make the connection about the struggles that some, not all Latino families face. The struggle was real and evident on the faces of the haggard. The struggle was not as prominent on the faces of the white community. They were selected first for a pay raise or promotion, worked fewer hours than their neighbors; my grandparents.

There were and still are borders within the U.S. border.