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That Summer Marcella Hurtado Gomez, farmworker and 1997 SAF intern ‘‘Mommy, can I wear my blue dress, the one that has those pretty bows?’’ ‘‘Well, I don’t know, it is the only good dress that you have and I don’t want you to get it dirty. Here, you better wear this purple one, it’s pretty too. And hurry up and fix your hair.’’ When the bus arrived, my mother took me by the hand and helped me on the bus. I was a little scared, but I saw my cousins and friends on the bus and I went to sit down with them. It wasn’t until I got off the bus that I really felt scared. I had to leave my cousins and I came into a class of strangers and a ‘‘gringa’’ teacher that didn’t even greet me, on the contrary, it seemed that my presence bothered her. ‘‘Look Gladys, another one! . . .’’ I didn’t understand what the teacher was saying , but it was obvious that she was angry and that made me cry. All the excitement that I had felt that morning disappeared at that moment. ‘‘Well don’t just stand there crying, come in and play with the toys or something . . .’’ That same day I met my other two teachers. One was a black woman that liked to hug the kids. She gave me a lot of hugs but I didn’t like that at all. The other one was a young [white] woman who was very concerned about [me]. Neither of the three teachers spoke Spanish and I didn’t speak English. ...

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