THE SHINE JOURNAL

Immigrant Diaries: The Life Of An Immigrant Child

by

Jackie Beltran

"Shall I give my first born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" Mic. 6:7

She was using the pay phone when I pulled into the parking lot.  She replaced the receiver and tried three more times.  I pulled along side her and smiled, "Can I help you?  Are you having car trouble?"

She was scared - really scared.  The child with her was at least six years old and at 1 p.m. should have been in school.  She looked at me, her son, the highway and nodded, trembling and jerky as she clutched a small bag of groceries.

"Can you take us home?" she asked. 

"Sure.  Which direction do you live in?"

"It's that way," she said and pointed. 

I asked her name and where she was originally from.  She explained that she was from Guatemala.  I asked about her son's age and she proudly responded, "He is six years old."

"Why isn't he in school?  Do you need help because I can help you if you want?"  I already knew this would be a difficult case.

"No, no!  I'm leaving tomorrow.  We're going to Florida to work.  The nursery work is almost finished."  Her voice was shaking as she spoke.

"You don't want him to go to school?" I shrugged as I said it.

She hesitated before she replied, "If we're deported, he'll be abandoned.  I'll lose him forever."  Then she finished firmly, "He stays with me."

We talked about the crops and which state she preferred then I revisited the dilemma of education.  "Where was he born?"

"He's American - born in Florida," she said proudly as if it were a true gift and accomplishment. 

Gently but firmly, I said, "He needs to be educated."