Silvia Mata, an OSU student, tells her story.

It is 4:30 a.m. I remember waking up and feeling the cold wind as I joined my family to work in the fields.

My name is Silvia Veronica Mata. I was born in Mexico. My mom and dad migrated from Mexico to the United States, knowing that in Mexico their children wouldn’t receive the same education.

I consider myself a migrant, a Mexican migrant, because I haven’t stopped being a migrant. Even though leaving the fields and coming to Ohio State has changed my lifestyle, my identity has not changed.

I remember that when I was a child, I was always asking myself why. Why me? Why my family? During the summers we used to work in Ohio picking cucumbers, and we would go in the morning from 4:40 a.m. to noon and then go back to the field around 4:30 p.m. until 8 or 9 at night. And it was so hot! I could feel the steam coming out of the dirt. I could feel the sweat rolling down my arms, my back, and my face. I couldn’t distinguish the difference between my tears and my sweat because I was so hot, and I was so sad all the time. I would think, “Why am I here? Why do I have to be in the fields while everyone else is playing basketball or taking a vacation with their family? Why did my family have to be in the fields?”

Every afternoon under that hot sun I would always question, Why? Why me? I remember my dad stopping, because I would stand in the middle of the field and not work for a while because my back was in pain. He would tell me, “Echale ganas, entre más rápido trabajes, más rápido sales.” I always translated those words as, “Keep it up! The faster and harder you work, the faster you’ll get things done.” Those are the words I always heard and will always remember.

I would get upset and think, “Why should I hurry up? All I want to do is finish this row of cucumbers. Then I have to start a new one and finish that one; and pick another one, and another one but there’s never an end.” Then I came to Ohio State. One day I was out in the fields picking peaches, and the next day I was moving into my dorm, and I couldn’t believe it! I never thought I could go to college. I dreamed about it, because I’m a dreamer, but I never planned to go to college. College was never in my parents’ vocabulary. All they expected for my sisters and me was to graduate from high school. They thought that was enough to survive. Since they had a sixth grade education, they said, “High school is enough for you guys to succeed.” To get a decent job, work and raise a family was good enough.

“Why am I here? Why do I have to be in the fields while everyone else is playing basketball or taking a vacation with their family? Why did my family have to be in the fields?”

I was so angry to think that I was just going to continue working in the fields. I didn’t want that. I wanted something else. I dreamed bigger. I didn’t dream about working in the fields, nor my parents working there every day, and the way I had seen them get older and older, I wondered, “What was going to happen to them?” I knew I had to do something: for myself, for my sisters and for my parents. I remember going to my counselors in high school and asking them, “I want to go to college. What do I do? How do I apply?” I didn’t know, and some of my counselors would tell me, “Are you sure you want to go to college?” They doubted me. I kept thinking, “Yes, that is what I want. I just don’t know what to do.” And they would say, “How about a community college back at home in Texas?” They never guided me to what I wanted. They always guided me towards what they expected of me — to continue my tradition, which was working in the fields or just going to a community college. I sensed that they didn’t believe in me, which gave me even more motivation and ambition because I know I didn’t like being out in the fields, and I know I didn’t like people doubting me. So I got very motivated.

One day, one of the migrant teachers told me, “Hey! There’s a guy coming from Ohio State and there’s going to be a meeting of migrant students, about 20 to 30 students that are going to come and see him. He’s going to introduce the College Assistant Migrant Program (CAMP).” I said I was interested and I wanted to go. She explained it was going to be in the evening, and I said, “Oh my gosh! What am I going to do? We work in the evenings!” I came home and told my dad, “Hey! This guy is coming from Ohio State, and there’s this CAMP program that helps migrant students go to college.” My dad said, “Forget it! I’m not going to miss a day of work for you to go talk to a guy who’s just going to fill your head with nonsense ideas.”

Silvia Mata working in the peach orchards as her father, Juan, looks on.

I convinced him and he took me. Out of the 20-30 students they were expecting, I was the only one that showed up to see Dr. José Villa, director of CAMP programs at Ohio State. Dr. Villa helped me with all the processes of applying, and he said, “You know what? Apply. I know you will get in. You have the grades. You meet the requirements.” I said, “You’re right. I want to get in. I want to do this. I want to go to college.” I didn’t know what or where Ohio State was, except that I knew it was in Ohio. We eventually went back home to Texas and I told my teachers, “Hey! I want to go to Ohio State. I just don’t know what to do. I have the application, what else?” The majority of my teachers helped me. There were still those who doubted me, but they were my motivation to keep going. I got in; I got admitted to CAMP at the Ohio State University.

When I received the acceptance letter, I remember just reading “Congratulations.” I kept thinking, “Does that mean I’m in?” I told my mom, and I said, “Mom, I got accepted.” It wasn’t like what we see in movies where when you get into your dream college you start jumping or screaming. I got really nervous, and scared because I kept thinking, “What is my dad going to say?” The whole time I applied he was against it. When I told him, he said, “No vas a ir (You are not going).” I remember my tears rolling down my cheeks, and I cried to my mom, “Mom, he’s telling me I’m not going.” She tried to talk to him, but he insisted, “She’s not going. She’s not going and she’s not going. I told her to apply in Texas schools and she’s not going.”

My senior year went by and again during the summer we came back to Ohio picking cucumbers and apples, and it was weeks before I had to move into OSU. He was still not convinced. He kept thinking, “You’re going to get hurt. There are people who are going to fill your head with ideas.” I understood him, his concern about people betraying him and me. So Dr. Villa came personally to talk to him, and said, “Compare two things: when your friends and family members come and ask you, ’What is your Silvia Mata doing?’ Would you rather respond she’s married, has two kids and is still working in the fields; or would you rather say, she graduated from college, has a good job and she’s not working in the fields?” My dad started to think and looked at Dr. Villa and said, “Promise me that you will take care of her.” Dr. Villa promised and he said, “I will be watching over her.” My dad finally gave in and said okay.

One day I was working in the fields and the next I was here at Ohio State. It was culture shock everywhere. I didn’t know how to deal with my first year. Everyone was so independent. Everyone looked out for himself or herself, which is very different from my culture. We look out for each other; we help each other; we push each other. My family, mom and dad, always pushed us to do better things, but when I was by myself it was extremely difficult because I didn’t have my dad or my mom to tell me things were going to be okay. I had to find my self-motivation. I had to get motivated, and I did. Every night when it was cold and I was under my warm sheets I kept thinking about my parents. I knew that in the houses migrant families live, they are not warm and they’re not comfortable. I knew that I shouldn’t take this opportunity for granted. This is what I dreamed of and here I was.

Silvia Mata’s father (right) working in the peach orchards. “Echale ganas,” he told his daughter, Silvia. “Keep it up!”.

Everything was so different. When I went home for Christmas break my freshman year, I went back with my entire luggage. I was quitting. I thought, “I can’t do this. It’s just too much.” School wasn’t difficult. What was difficult was just not being close to my family, not being comforted by them. I went home and my mom said, “Wow! You brought a lot of stuff! You brought clothes to stay the whole year round.” She didn’t know I was planning to stay. Neither did my dad. And finally the time came when she asked, “When are you leaving?” I said, “I’m not leaving!” She responded, “What do you mean you’re not leaving?” My dad got upset and said, “What do you mean you’re not leaving?” I said, “I’m not going back to Ohio. I don’t want to go back! Everything is so different. I miss you guys.” For the first time my dad sat down with me and he said, “You’re not going to give up now. Tienes que echarle ganas, échale ganas. ¡Sí puedes! “ I remember those words from being out in the fields, and finishing row after row, and I kept thinking, “échale ganas, finish.” So, they convinced me to come back. It was an awesome year. It was like a roller coaster. Things were happening. I started meeting new people, but I kept thinking about my dad’s words, “échale ganas,” and I always had that in my mind. If I do this, if I finish, there will be something new afterwards. When I would finish a row of cucumbers, there was nothing but another row. This was my motivation.

“Every night when it was cold and I was under my warm sheets I kept thinking about my parents. ”

I learned to appreciate things. I learned to dream harder. I learned not to expect big things. I just learned to appreciate more. And if I made mistakes, “nada más serán lecciones de la vida (These will just be life’s lessons).” If I had the opportunity to talk to all the Latin@ and migrant students in this nation I would tell them, “¡Echale ganas! Don’t give up and believe in yourself. Dreams might not come true as you want them to, but dreams do happen if you make them happen and that’s through believing in yourself, and that’s self-motivation.” There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious as long as you use it the right way. My ambitions are my dreams. I kept thinking, “I know I’m going to be somebody. I know it.” Now being at Ohio State, I know how hard it’s to succeed, but it’s well worth it. The problems I faced, the obstacles are nothing compared to what I faced as a migrant student in high school. Another obstacle I faced was moving from school to school, and from state to state. In one year I probably moved six times into six different schools, and every school I moved to the students were different, the culture was different, and the work environment was different. But I have overcome every obstacle. I kept thinking, if I did it back in high school, I know I can do it here.

I wish the educational system could be more supportive to migrant students, or in general, Latin@s in the United States.