“I really think that without education, you cannot find a good job. That’s why I came to college to learn business and computer skills, to get off of welfare and be able to support my family on just my pay.”

-Norma Coronado

 

Para Siempre/Forever

     Norma’s voice rises sharply to talk above the hiss of the grill as Frankie leans over and winces hard to listen. “If it weren’t for my children,” she pauses, “my children keep me going. They are my inspiration and reason for living. My oldest son Eric is such a good boy. I don’t know what I would do without him. After high school each day he helps me by babysitting the young ones until I can get home each night. He does his best but still I worry about not being there myself.     

      “And I miss the time with my precious Omar and Josephine in grade school. I see them off each day, but they are asleep by the time I get home at night and my constant worry is about my baby, James. Daycare workers and my oldest son can’t make up for me not being there. I try not to think about it cause it doesn’t matter. For me, there is no choice. Without the skills to get a job that pays well, I have to take what they give me. I have to do my best with the benefits and low salary that I earn.”      

     A crackling flame suddenly sears upward, and the smell of burnt grease brings her back to the hashbrowns below. She briefly eyes the order monitor and looks at the clock. “Hold on just a few more hours,” she thinks to herself, while her heartstrings vibrate from the picking and plucking of her mind’s worried song. Is James fed and dry? Was there enough milk for the kids' cereal? Has Eric remembered to turn off the stove?      

     Frankie senses her preoccupation and reaches out to rub Norma’s back. She looks in Norma’s eyes, and says empathetically, “You have to stop worrying so much. The stress is going to make you sick.”

     Norma’s tears burst like a levee under pressure of too much winter water. “I’ve been sixteen years on welfare. It’s like a big hole, you know? You just get stuck. It’s like you wanna get out of there, but there’s no one there to help.” She draws in little wisps of air, swipes her wet face and catches her breath to continue but is abruptly cut off.     

     “Why don’t you go to school!” Frankie blurts out. “Why don’t you go to college so you can get yourself out of here?” She pauses and finishes, saying, “I’ll get the information for you and I’ll take you there myself.”      

     Frankie’s words shock Norma like a blow from a boxer. Her face swells up in red excitement. “School? Me go to school? I didn’t know that I could go to school. Nobody ever told me I could go to school.”      

     Frankie says assuringly, “I’m telling you right now that you can go to school. Meet me tommorrow at the bus stop in front of your apartment at nine. I have classes beginning at ten and you can come along with me as my guest.”

     Norma shivers with excitement trying to reconstruct her last memories of school for Frankie. “My father died when I was eleven in Guatemala and any ambition for going to school died with him. I was learning how to type in Guatemala, but when you are young, it is like you don’t care about anything.” She extends her fingers and demonstrates to Frankie how her teacher physically stretched and strained her small fingers into position as she struggled to hit the right keys. She says, “As a teenager working as a live-in housekeeper in Los Angeles, I remember young white children clicking away with ease on computer keyboards.      

     “When I was younger I did not really like school, but I know now that I don’t want to spend my whole life working for restaurants or housekeeping. I don’t want to do that any more. At McDonald’s, I started off at minimum wage of $4.75 for one year and then they gave me a raise like 50 cents for one year. No, with four children, I can’t live with just my salary, feed them, dress them. My rent alone takes five hundred and seventy-five dollars.

     The clock of Welfare Reform continues clicking away, and the pressure to stay in school continues to mount against her. Fully aware of her impending dilemma, Norma gasps and licks the pink lipstick from her teeth, pauses, releases one long breath and says, “I think positive because I have my children. I teach them not to be fearful. I tell them to just go out and do their best. I’m doing my best and that’s why I came to college. Yeah, to get myself a career. To get off welfare para siempre, you know, forever.”