The stereotypes are all over Crenshaw High School: black and brown students in saggy britches talking smack to each other constantly and texting in class; teenaged mothers and fathers; young boys on house arrest sporting ankle bracelets that hug the outside of their white tube socks and nestle against their name brand sneakers like the latest fashion accessory.

They are among the masses that come to school late with McDonald’s in-hand and the ones that don’t come to school at all. And coming to school means crossing gang territories that rival Crenshaw High’s purported affiliation, a dangerous feat for all regardless of their involvement, said Crenshaw High Dean William Vanderberg.

These are the students you hear about on television and in news reports. These are the statistics. These are the casualties of the education system.

With a graduation rate of a mere 57 percent, Crenshaw High can seem like your stereotypical “urban” school. And in Alex Caputo-Pearl’s Social Justice and the Law Academy at Crenshaw High, Caputo-Pearl sees an even harsher reality: nearly two-thirds of his students may not be graduating in May, he said.

But some of his students, short on credits and often times even shorter on attention, in this newly-formed academy still have goals for after high school: community college, historically black colleges and universities, known as HBCU’s, big name schools, trade school and, yes, further along, they want careers in everything from law to being business owners, social work and maybe even real estate brokers.

But despite recent improvements of 6.5 and 5.4 percentage points since 2003 on standardized tests, Latino and black students respectively continue to lag behind whites and Asians in becoming academically eligible to enter California’s two public university systems, according to a recently-released study by the California Postsecondary Education Commission.

Experts blame this state-wide statistic on students’ shortages of required courses and inadequate counseling at high schools, such as Crenshaw High, in low-income, high minority areas, according to a Los Angeles Times article.

So while the statistics may be counting them out, Caputo-Pearl and many of his students still dare to try to be counted in another kind of statistic: those who achieve the American Dream. They dare to hope for lives beyond the borders of South Los Angeles.

Furthering their education is their way out, they say.

Whether or not they’ll get there, well, that’s the struggle.

But just as many break the stereotypical mold as those who fit it.

* * *

“Chris, take off the earphones. Chris… Chris,” says lead teacher of Crenshaw High’s Social Justice and the Law Academy Alex Caputo-Pearl. The bell has rung and class is in session but the lanky young man is still bobbing his head. The white chord and ear buds of an iPod are clearly visible against his chocolate skin. The music, loud enough to be heard two rows over and all the way to the front of the class.

Head down, barely able to hear Caputo-Pearl, Chris Mitchell looks around at the stillness of the classroom and, finally, takes them out of his ears but keeps the music cranked up.

Another look and another request from Caputo-Pearl, and he turns it off.

Chris, 17, is a Crenshaw High senior with your average teenage dreams: money, power, fame. He makes the goals sound easy.

“I’m going overseas to play basketball after high school,” he says. “I know some people. I have connects.”

When asked about how realistic that might be, Chris, who plays point guard, gives a look that says, “I know I’ll make it.”

But like so many others with hoop dreams and basketball on the brain, there’s no guarantee and the odds are stacked against him. Fewer than one percent of college basketball players ever make it to the professional level. And his grades are admittedly coming up short. Perhaps though, they’re good enough to get him into the University of Connecticut’s business program—another lofty goal—before he heads overseas for self-predicted basketball superstardom.

“I want to build an empire like Jay-Z,” a music and apparel mogul, award-winning rapper and partial owner of the New Jersey Nets basketball team, Chris says about his career plans.

Ask him, and he’s already well on his way in some shape or form. “I already applied,” he says about the University of Connecticut. And a response letter has already come.

He hasn’t opened it yet. “I’m waiting for my birthday; April 21.”

* * *

“I ain’t gonna get into no four-year college.”

Seventeen-year-old Crenshaw High senior Brianna Irby speaks it like it’s Scripture.

“It’s true. For real,” she added.

Her reasons? “I didn’t take some classes that I’m supposed to take, like Algebra 2. I never took Algebra 2.”

But the cinnamon-skinned girl with glasses and braces is finding another way to make it out of Crenshaw High and onward to her goal of becoming a social worker like her mother.

“My plan? Well, I’m going to start at a two-year school or a community college. I’ll transfer my credits. I know I can do that. I’ll work it out,” she says.

Brianna’s mother Cerelia Bragg is earning a master’s degree at the University of Southern California’s School of Social Work.

“She’s doing OK,” Bragg said about her daughter’s academic progress during a classroom visit on a recent Thursday. With a mix-matched head nod that seemed to convey both worry and hope, she stared at her daughter from across the room. Brianna smiled.

* * *

After class on a Monday, Caputo-Pearl calls a handful of students to stay after the bell.

Keilah Duren is one of them.

“Some of you have different things going on with the CAHSEE (California High School Exit Examination). Not all of you have super high GPAs. Not all of you have super low GPAs. You are exactly the kind of kids this can help,” he says urging them to attend a free SAT preparation class on the coming Saturday. There’s even a free breakfast he adds for extra bait. “And free lunch, but most of all, it’s food for your mind.”

Continuing the sell, Caputo-Pearl says, “This session could mean a bump of 40 or 60 extra points (on your SAT).”

The group stands in silence, but not for long.

“If we have a book, why we gotta come?” one asks.

“If you don’t know how to use it, it can hurt you,” he rebutts.

“But all you gotta do is just read it,” says another student.

The banter continues.

Caputo-Pearl tells them when and where the session will be held. “If you need a ride I’ll take you,” he says.

With 16 years of teaching experience in the elementary schools of Compton Unified School District and at the middle school and high school levels of Los Angeles Unified School District, Caputo-Pearl wants his students to be the ones that make it.

“For me, I’ve always been interested in public education because I see it as a social justice issue. And, I grew up in Maryland in very segregated schools and my parents were some of the few parents in my neighborhood who supported the bussing program to integrate schools.

“Because of that experience I was exposed to pretty stark inequalities in the school system,” he said.

Keilah sees them too.

“Creanshaw High is, like, a very urban school. I don’t want to say ghetto but it’s pretty urban,” she says with a laugh.

The 17-year-old sees the gang affiliations throughout her school, and the drop out rate at Crensahw High is no secret, she said.

But in a way, she feels immune to it all.

“Crenshaw is not that bad,” she says and she’s girded by success stories outside of school — success stories that started with college, stories she hopes to emulate. Her big brother goes to Morehouse College in Atlanta and her godmother and one of her aunts went to Spellman College, also in Atlanta.

So after graduation, her goal is to “go straight to an HBCU,” she said. She has her sights set on Spellman, an all girls’ historically black college.

“You’re around your (own) kind, but it’s not like I just want to be around them. I think you can learn more about the past than what they teach at school,” she said.

Even with her head down, texting on her cell phone more often than not, in class, she considers herself determined.

“I want to make a lot of money in the future for one, and college has been on my mind since I was younger and I always wanted to be a lawyer or somewhere in the politic world.”

Big goals.

She attributes some of it to having role models — her big brother, aunt, godmother, as well as her parents; something that many in her class are lacking.

Even though her father is “always busy” she knows him fairly well. He’s a realtor. Her mother is a licensed practical nurse, or LPN, and is on her way to getting her registered nurse license.

Keilah’s circumstances are a stand-out among Caputo-Pearl’s class and he encourages her often.

While walking out of class on a recent school day he reminded her of the SAT prep class.

“I’ll be there,” she said.

“And did you convince that young man that you’re going to Spellman?” he asked about a back-and-forth she had with a classmate.

“I told him! I sure did,” she said.

“Good.”

Thirteen-year-old Gabriel Hamilton, an eighth grader at Johnnie Cochran Middle School, defies all common misconceptions about a young teen. She works hard in school and dissuades her friends from being gangbangers. She does not wish to get pregnant at this age and she wants parents not just to tell their kids to avoid sex, but to tell them why not.

“People say you don’t know if you are going to use a condom because when the time comes you are going to be so ready to do it you are not going to worry about it. But I am not stupid I know I need to use protection”, she says turning slightly red as she makes her point. The eight-grader who joined Johnnie Cochran Middle school in the sixth grade said she has learned from her mother’s mistakes and does not want to end up like other 13-year-olds or 14-year-olds who she sees getting pregnant.

Her story is one of the hard realities facing students at Johnnie Cochran and other urban schools across the country. The nation’s unraveling economy has only compounded the pressures poor and working-class families were already facing, with the pressures seemingly falling harder on children and youth like Gabriel. Poor housing, thin or no employment, chronically underfinanced schools, which are also often failing, all conspire to place urban America in one of the deepest holes it has seen since the conditions that spawned the 1965 Watts riots. Buried within the present economic crisis is another calamity which is leading to the disintegration of the family structure. As parents work harder to meet the economic needs of their families, the children face the brunt of separation from their parents for long hours, days or at times even weeks. This separation manifests itself in terms of isolation, loneliness and low self-esteem among children and youth like Gabriel. While some tend to survive this transition with love and support from teachers and friends, many children fall through the cracks.

Living with grandmother

After her mother, Rashida, lost their apartment earlier last year in February, Gabriel and her twin brothers moved in with their grandmother. Rashida wasn’t able to work for some time after she had a baby last year. The situation worsened as she could not find anybody to look after the baby later and had to stay away from work. This affected her finances severely and she helplessly watched her saving deplete before her eyes. Rashida currently works as a hair stylist and has been in and out of beauty parlors since the age of 16. While this arrangement provides some relief to Gabriel from what she describes as a ‘struggling’ relationship with her mother, she says that living with her grandmother is also very challenging at times. “My grandmother is very old, sometimes she helps us, sometimes she doesn’t, she likes to yell, if you are doing something really quick, she yells,” she further adds.

What hurts Gabriel the most though is the relationship that she shares with her mother, “We don’t talk much and when we do we don’t have a mother-daughter talk. If I was to get pregnant and call my mom like okay mom I am pregnant and I need help says Gabriel, she would yell, she would fuss, she would want to hit me.” A few weeks earlier Gabriel’s step mom, Melanie, who is her dad’s girl friend, had a talk with her about safe sex and on using protection. She also told her to seek her for help if she ever got pregnant or needed tips on birth controls, a conversation she needs given U.S. data on teen pregnancy.

One-third of U.S. girls got pregnant before age 20, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and more than 435,000 babies were born to teens between 15 and 19 years in 2006. Amy Schalet, an assistant professor of sociology at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst, writes in the Washington Post that the rise in teen pregnancies is a result of a lack of environment in which young people receive support from parents and other adults and learn about relationships and making wise sexual choices.

However in case of Gabriel such guidance is not available. Her mother, Rashida, acknowledging the communication gap between the two says that, “She doesn’t really share much. She tells me about school and teachers but she not really open to conversation, just a little.” Rashida doesn’t talk much about boys with Gabriel, as she feels that she is still young to have such conversations. “I may have spoken with her one or twice, but I don’t need to mention it to her, because she knows better,” she further says adding she is not 16 yet.

A fractured family

She lifts her head when asked about her father and when she does that you cannot miss the sparkle in her eyes. She reminisces about the good old times she shared with her father, five years back before he went to jail. She remembers everything from the meeting and the father-daughter talks they used to have. While her father is not around anymore to physically take care of her now, she can still feel the concern in his voice when he advises her to be careful and to use protection when the time comes. She says this is quite different from earlier times. When he was around he never told her not to have boyfriends. As she talks about her father further, her hands suddenly move anxiously around the table and a shadow of fear looms over her face and within few seconds the reasons becomes apparent. “They say that if his appeal doesn’t get through he may have five more years, 10 more years or even 30 more years, I am praying for my dad so that his appeal go through, because if it does he might get out next year or in beginning of May,” says Gabriel crossing her fingers. Gabriel doesn’t know the reason her father has been put behind the bars. Looking back at her childhood days spent around her father, she remembers that he had lot of money. “He owned building; he owned record stores, produce music and stuff. My dad he didn’t do bad things to do money, probably he did but from what I know when I was there he didn’t.” Her struggle to keep her memories of her father untarnished becomes evident when she says, “Whatever people say on the streets you can’t listen to them they don’t know.” Rashida on the other hand is clueless about her husband’s charges, “I don’t what he got himself into.”

Something from her past that she cherishes the most are the memories of traveling on a family vacation to Louisiana and Mississippi with her parents. Another equally cherished memory that she has is that of her friends, especially Brenda and Kent, who stood by her through thick and thin and helped her keep herself together. “My life was okay because I had two families—my friends who were always there for me and my family,” says Gabriel. She affectionately talks about Kent, who has now moved away to Ontario. “He brought so much joy to my life, he had real laughs and they were funny and when I was sad, when I was down and mad he would always try to do something to make me feel happy, try to make me smile again.” Her friend Brenda with whom Gabriel shared a special bond also had to move away. “Now,” says Gabriel, with a visible mark of sorrow in her voice, “my life is different, I want to cry, but I don’t because I don’t want to be emotional.”

The impact of teachers

Some of the conversations with students that have really hit Marsha Tilles during her six years at Johnnie Cochran Middle School as a student counselor are the ones she has had during the period when the student had lost somebody close to them be it parent or friend and they were feeling very alone and isolated. So, when she meets with the students the first things that she usually does is talk. “A lot of times that is enough, they just want somebody to listen, they want to feel cared about, they want to feel heard and understood,” she says talking from her past experiences. Things as simple as talking can make a huge difference in one’s life. And Gabriel is a perfect example of this necessity. While she has had many ups and downs in her life, at one point of time she hit rock bottom. “At one point I tried to kill myself and I took 12 aspirins and I was really sick,” says Gabriel adding that it was also the time that she suffered from low self esteem regarding her appearances and thought she was “ugly.”

But a talk she still remembers changed her life. At the school one day she met a girl who shared with Gabriel her life story and how she used to be. Her story proved to be very inspiring for Gabriel. “After talking to her I started bringing my self esteem up,” she smiles adding that sometimes when people tell you stuff it can change your life around. And you can’t miss the transformation when you hear the range of aspiration that Gabriel has envisioned for herself—from being a model, or an actor, or a nurse. In the near future she would like to attend a better high school and is working hard for it by studying for her subjects and improving her grades at school. She has scored mostly B’s on all her subject in her school year this far with an exception of one C on her reading course. “It’s kind of boring,” she says of her reading class. She tries to balance her school as she juggles with her second responsibility of taking care of her sister and twin brothers.

While the school per say is not an important part of her life, what she values the most is the experience of being with teachers who work hard to teach students. She is especially fond of her Math teacher Inna Kopelevichcx and sometimes her history teacher, too. However, there are also some teachers that she feels uncomfortable about especially the way they talk to students. Flaring up in a sudden outburst, Gabriel twitches her face as she narrates what she hates about some of the teachers in the school. “I hate it when teachers make you seem like their life was so harder than ours, because it is not,” she further adds that “When they talk to students they act like they know us, oh she is just trashy or she is just hoochie, she is just fast for her age, or she don’t want to try.”

“Things will change”

Another thing that bothers Gabriel is the gang violence. Her fears have legitimate reasons not only because the neighborhoods around the school have been prone to random gunfire and other violence in the past, but also because many students from middle school and high school get fixated by gang culture and end up joining them. Just the other day, Gabriel remembers that she had to dissuade her friend from joining the ‘Bloods’ gang. “He wants to be there, because he is bad. He says he is, but he is not,” she says. “I told him that if you love your parents and other people, you will not be a gang banger because if you die the next day, you know it is going to hurt them.” She wants gang violence reduced and she hopes that President-elect Barack Obama will bring about the change that he has promised.

“Everybody needs to start new life this New Year,” she says almost in a monologue, “things need to change because it’s getting harder now, and I am getting tired.” The rush in her voice is evident as she makes her wish for the New Year. “I wish I was 18, like grown up so that I could have my own life because I know my mom’s side of family will not get any better because they don’t try. They always argue and fight each other, and sometimes I feel it will not get any better.” In the same moment, she talks about the person who has been her pillar of support in times of distress—God. “God will work everything out eventually, and if you bring God in your life, your life will get better, in some ways, somehow, no matter when,” she says. Gabriel closes her eyes and murmurs, and her faint voice seems to be saying, things will change, they have to.

As the student body majority at Johnnie Cochran Middle School has shifted

over the last 100 years—from white to Asian to African-American to Hispanic—

so too have the challenges faced by the school.

“Clean up, your mamma don’t work here.” Amidst the resounding chattering of the 11-year-olds, Cassandra’s voice found a place of her own. The chattering paused for nanoseconds and then returned to a roar. Under her breathe Cassandra Walton, a parent volunteer murmured, “If they don’t clean, I will have to clean it. I am cleaning my own children; I am not cleaning anybody else’s.” The large rectangular lunch room at Johnnie Cochran Middle School in South Los Angeles kept shrinking as students filtered in, queuing in line for free lunches. Standing a few inches away from Cassandra was Pamela Niles, a former English language teacher who now administers ESL tests.

“Keep it dry, Emily. I can almost go swimming in it,” Niles said, turning around at the soft featured and slender Emily, who was wiping the tables. “What?” shot back Emily, also caught ‘misbehaving’ today. These immigrant kids feel that this is the American way to be, Niles said, in explaining Emily’s outburst. They see a group of kids behaving like that, and they think that is the American way. If they had been in their home country, Niles added, they would have known that disrespectful responses are not allowed.

Johnnie Cochran Middle School can be best described as a school of the working poor, says Principal Scott Schmerelson. The South Los Angeles School serves mostly immigrant kids, but despite all its challenges, the campus represents the great American dream for many families. But the dream comes at a cost and often entails bearing a host of dangers like violence and economic instability, or alienation from their children who spend hours alone as parents work multiple jobs. Most of the students qualify for free lunch, and Principal Schmerelson makes sure that every child eats. “The parents are dependent on the school to make sure the child gets breakfast and lunch at school. At times they are either working two or three jobs or leaving before the child goes for school,” he says. Safety is another big issue. This does not come as a surprise since the surrounding neighborhood is prone to random gunfire and other violence. Parents feel that their kids will be safe with us, Schmerelson adds.

Stressful lives for immigrant children

Pointing at two Nigerian girls from the crowd waiting for their free lunches, Niles says: “These two sisters had come to America with their father. But he passed away and now they are in foster care. Their mother is still in Nigeria and can’t come to be with them.” I also have students who are living here with their relatives or friends either because they were born here or because there parents got deported. So… wouldn’t you rather be in Mexico with mommy loving you, hugging you, or would you rather be tossed in the big city going from place to place? The parents feel that they have brought the kids here for ‘mejor vida’( better life). When you come here from other country you have to do more than one job to make ends meet. So, what happens when you are away all day from the home and when your children come home, you are not there. What kind of lifestyle is home now?” Niles asks. 

If 13-year-old Miguel Zaragoza had been present at that moment, Niles would have probably cited him as an example of a challenged home life. Miguel enrolled at the school in September after being kicked out of his previous school for vandalism. A case of mistaken identity, he says. He loves math but finds it difficult to concentrate on his homework at home. If he stays back in school for extra counseling, his parents get very upset.

“I live in a bad neighborhood, so I can’t stay away from home for too long. There are a lot of gang fights and shootings that occur, I go to school and then come back fast,” says Zaragoza, mentally sketching a chilling picture of a neighborhood where he says he can never step out. He often stays within the confines of his home. His tired, sunken eyes look away towards the open blue sky as he speaks, “My dad and four brothers always have mad kind of fights, they are always yelling at each other for no reason and when I try to help them they yell at me.”

He wishes his parents would help him with homework, show love at home and just be there when he needs them. Zaragoza plans to go to high school somewhere away from this neighborhood. If there is something that still rekindles his desire is the thought of becoming a soccer player, playing on the defensive line. Talking about soccer gets him excited for few minutes, but then the fine lines of distress quickly becomes visible when he realizes that the biggest obstacle standing in between him and his dream are his bad grades. He plans to work hard on his scores and stay back for extra counseling but wonders if he will be able to negotiate the fear of his safety and that of his fuming parents.

Cleaning homes, caring for siblings 

The story of Angela Asij, another eighth grader, sounds similar. However, the two things that have worked in her favor are her straight As and support from her teachers and parents. But she has faced her share of emotional meltdowns before.

“I felt that I was being ignored and not loved by my parents. All the attention was given to my younger two sisters and I felt very neglected,” says the 13-year-old who dreams of making it to one of the magnet high schools in affluent west Los Angeles. Thankfully for Angela, her math teacher, Inna Kopelevich, serves as a much needed anchor. But now, her biggest concern isn’t being overlooked by her parents; it’s the economic crisis that is hitting close to home. Her mom is planning to take more jobs like her father, as they fear there will not be much to live on. Before the unfolding of these economic events, Angela’s mom worked as a housekeeper in two houses, a number that has now climbed to five houses. On weekends, Angela accompanies her mother and assists her in the housekeeping. She also picks up her siblings if she knows her mother will come home late, feeds them and helps them with their homework. The fact that she can help her sisters with their homework makes her happy. She remembers her years in elementary school when she struggled to follow the course work and lacked guidance and support.

“My mother is proud of me,” she says with a sense of pride, “because during summers I stay at home to look after my sisters so that my parents are not worried about where to keep them.” Attending summer school can help Angela further polish her skills in various subjects, but she knows if she does enroll in summer classes, there will be no one to look after her younger sisters.

Kevin Navarette has a ‘you mess with me, I mess with you’ kind of attitude and would like to enroll at USC someday. His classmates seem to be inspiring him, though in an unusual way to keep focus on subjects especially math. Navarette says “my classmates tease me that I will be working at McDonald’s, if I don’t get algebra, I won’t get an education or go to college.” Seeing his mother return to job hunting due to the recent economic tumult the one thing that he wants to have in the future is a ‘job’. His father who earlier worked as a chef for one of the sororities at USC now cooks in a hospital for older people. After getting a job, Navarette would like to have a house — no apartments, he adds with a matter of factness. His parents, like those of Miguel’s and Angela’s, are working hard to make the ends meet, and this often entails spending less time with their children, which teachers say leads to depression, isolation and a feeling of unwantedness. While some are lucky to find support and guidance in the form of teachers, peers and parents, many other immigrant children fall through the cracks.

So, is this a better life, a ‘mejor vida’?

A better life for the children? 

Anthony J. Colón, president of Hispanic Council for Reform and Educational Options feels that it is. He says some of these immigrants come from countries where the poverty is dire and severe, where the living conditions are horrendous, where parents sell their children into prostitution to eat. Even the worst conditions in the U.S. are an improvement to some of the conditions in the other countries. “The immigrants see their plight as better off as compared to going back to a country where there is absolutely no possibility of an opportunity at all. None,” he said.

Parents like Ebelin, concur with Colón’s statement. Ebelin separated from her husband and decided to come to US. She was just 25 when she came to the U.S. five years ago from El Salvador with her two daughters, one of whom was just a few weeks old. She hopes to take her daughters to El Salvador one day, but she worries that since her separation with her husband was not an official, he will not let her daughters come back to the US. “It was very difficult when I came here,” she says, adding that immigrating to America will give her daughter a mejor vida. She and her mother work house keeping jobs and earn just enough to live on. The Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA), estimates that illegal immigrants represent 70 percent of all domestic workers in greater Los Angeles. Ebelin didn’t discuss her earnings, but even without legal residency, domestic workers like her are entitled to California’s minimum wage of $7.50 an hour, a pay rate immigration advocates say most probably do not get.

These days Ebelin works only two days a week and devotes rest of her time looking after her daughters, dropping them at school, picking them up, working with them on their homework and attending English classes at night. She is trying hard to speak English exclusively at home, which she admits continues to be a challenge as she finds herself lapsing in Spanish too often. “But I try,” she said. Her dream like several other immigrants is to get U.S. citizenship. Are the hardships worth it? “Absolutely,” she says. “It is better for my daughter, my family.”

Some of the parents whose children attend Johnnie Cochran Middle School are wonderful. They all want the best for their kids, and then there are others who don’t know how go about it. Pamela Niles talks about the ‘getting back in control’ program that the school runs for parents to get control of their children, some of whom have gone astray. Wendy, she says, is an example of what can happen to a child when the parents’ role diminishes. Wendy ran away from school with her boyfriend. It was the same year she turned 15. Niles had seen her turn up at school three weeks earlier this month. She was pregnant and looking for home schooling.

Katrina Castellano, a resource teacher at the school, remembers one of her former students who recently had an abortion. “The girl is obviously culturally American as opposed to her mom who is El Salvadoran. For her mother it is all about getting married and having kids,” says Castellano stressing the cultural differences between the American-born immigrant children and their parents, which often leads to the straining of the relationship between the two.

Castellano continues to guide her former student through High school and is certain that she will enroll in college too. “We really push for college at school by talking about our college experiences and painting a vivid picture of the college life,” Castellano says, acknowledging the success of this strategy as she has noticed more students interested in college and making early decisions about which college they would like to attend.

Inna Kopelevich encourages her students with the same ideology that dominated her life as an immigrant to the U.S. Reflecting on her childhood days, she says, “We grew up believing that America is the last place on earth where you are not limited by the race you were born into or the caste from which your family hails, where if you work hard you can become something…. you can make a difference.”