Arturo Ochoa interview, April 9, 2019: transcript

i AN INTERVIEW WITH ARTURO OCHOA An Oral History Conducted by Monserrath Hernández Latinx Voices of Southern Nevada Oral History Project Oral History Research Center at UNLV University Libraries University of Nevada Las Vegas ii ©Latinx Voices of Southern Nevada University of Nevada Las Vegas, 2019 Produced by: The Oral History Research Center at UNLV – University Libraries Director: Claytee D. White Project Manager: Barbara Tabach Transcribers: Kristin Hicks, Maribel Estrada Calderón, Nathalie Martinez, Rodrigo Vazquez Editors and Project Assistants: Laurents Bañuelos-Benitez, Maribel Estrada Calderón, Monserrath Hernández, Elsa Lopez, Nathalie Martinez, Marcela Rodriquez-Campo, Rodrigo Vazquez iii The recorded interview and transcript have been made possible through the generosity of a National Endowment for Humanities (NEH) Grant. The Oral History Research Center enables students and staff to work together with community members to generate this selection of first-person narratives. The participants in this project thank University of Nevada Las Vegas for the support given that allowed an idea the opportunity to flourish. The transcript received minimal editing that includes the elimination of fragments, false starts, and repetitions in order to enhance the reader’s understanding of the material. All measures have been taken to preserve the style and language of the narrator. In several cases photographic sources accompany the individual interviews with permission of the narrator. The following interview is part of a series of interviews conducted under the auspices of the Latinx Voices of Southern Nevada. Claytee D. White Director, Oral History Research Center University Libraries University of Nevada Las Vegas iv PREFACE On the corner of Eastern and Stewart, inside the East Las Vegas Community Center, lies an oasis of creativity and art. The halls ring with the sound of harmonious music coming from the meeting rooms, where children move violin bows up and down in a synchronized motion. They stare with concentration at the music sheets in front of them. They gracefully play together and fill the empty halls with classical music. For most of them, they are the first in their family to learn how to play an instrument. Like many in their neighborhood, they are also first-generation Americans. The students are rehearsing for their recital with the Las Vegas Philharmonic at the Smith Center in a few weeks. In the back of the room there is a man gleaming with pride and joy. The Foundation to Assist Young Musicians (FAYM) provides the rehearsal space, violins, and music lessons at the community center and allows these children to flourish despite their economic, social, or racial background through, “Building Better Futures Through Music”. v Arturo Ochoa is a retired Clark County School District teacher, principal, and former U.S. Marine. Born in the strawberry fields of California, his family moved to Tucson, Arizona when he was a child. He arrived in Las Vegas in 1979, and began working in CCSD’s sixth grade centers as a science teacher. Ochoa then rose through the ranks from teacher to dean and eventually principal. As principal, he initiated arts programs and emphasized the importance of nurturing children’s creativity through the arts. He also facilitated partnerships with community members that would help his students. From holiday gifts to access to health care services, Ochoa went out of his way to ensure his students and their families’ overcame any obstacle. Ochoa’s fight for his students also transcended into advocating for the hire of more teachers and administrators of color because he knew that children are more successful if they have positive role models that look like and understand them. Ochoa retired from CCSD in 2005, after a long, successful career as an educator and administrator. However, he continued to campaign on the behalf of children and their access to resources. In 2013, he co-founded the Foundation to Assist Young Musicians, known as FAYM. FAYM is an afterschool program that teaches children from low socioeconomic backgrounds how to play the violin. The foundation provides the violins, teaching lessons, and recitals for children at little to no cost. Professionally trained music instructors conduct classes at the East Las Vegas Community Center, accessible to the working class families on the Eastside. The program emerges children in the arts from a young age in an attempt to keep children out of trouble while their parents work. Ochoa currently serves as a board member for FAYM and ensures his students have what they need to be successful. Through FAYM, students have played with the Las Vegas Philharmonic, performed and attended concerts at the Smith Center for the Performing Arts, and taken tours of higher learning institutions across the Las Vegas Valley. FAYM also has several students in the Las Vegas Youth Orchestra. The foundation completely operates through the kindness of volunteer instructors and community members, and also provides classes at the Pearson Community Center. Throughout his life, Ochoa always put children’s need first. The son a Mexican immigrants, Ochoa was a trailblazer in his field and in CCSD. He gave presentations on diversity issues and curriculum at education conferences. Ochoa earned his bachelors from the University of Arizona, Tucson and his masters from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. vi TABLE OF CONTENTS Interview with Arturo Ochoa April 9, 2019 in Las Vegas, Nevada Conducted by Monserrath Hernández Preface………………………………………………………………………………………..iv-v Ochoa explains the origin behind his usage of ‘Art’ and ‘Arthur’ as a name instead of ‘Arturo’, reclaiming his Spanish name, and having his mother’s name [Figueroa] as a middle name. Talks about his birthplace [Greenfield, California] near the tomato fields where his parents worked, his childhood growing up Mexican during the sixties, the bilingual book Yo soy Joaquín and using it to teach educators their role as teachers, visiting Mexico and being called a ‘gringo’. Mentions his family’s multigenerational farm work, growing up in Tucson, Arizona, Mexican stereotypes, and being rejected by the Boy Scouts due to the color of his skin……………………………...1-5 Shares his experience as a sixth grade science teacher, his teaching method of sharing part of his culture, and running into a former student of his. Talks about growing up in East L.A., his family moving to Tucson, attending a predominantly Latinx high school, and his stellar academic performance. Explains how before graduation the school counselor enforced stereotypes rather than helping Ochoa go to college resulting in Ochoa willingly dropping out of school. Mentions working at Circle K stores and driving dump trucks out of Tucson after high school, his first wife supporting his dream of obtaining his GED, and his ordeal taking all the GED subject tests and defying expectations…………………………………………………………………………...6-10 Ochoa explains receiving his GED scores and enrolling at the University of Arizona, talking classes at the College of Engineering, his work study, switching his major to education, his passion for education and preventing all children from falling through the cracks, his first teaching job as a transitional bilingual teacher [at Halle Hewetson Elementary School and Walter Bracken Elementary School]. Talks about teaching children who did not know English and the lack of funding and support to assist such student population. Mentions Madison Sixth Grade Center where he worked on the Westside of Las Vegas where he worked as a teacher. Talks about serving a minority student population the challenge of guaranteeing their equality within the school system, Marzette Lewis’s activism, the role of the Sixth Grade Centers and Clark County School District attempt of integration, and African-American school principal Jim Shipp ………………………………………………………………………………………………..11-15 Describes his trajectory into becoming a school principal in order to better reach underserved student populations, being one of the only Latinx teachers and administrators, working as a dean at Rancho High School and what that entitled, and working with different gangs at Rancho. Ochoa explains the time he deescalated a potential shooting and gaining respect from gangs, earning the nickname ‘El Solo’ as dean, easing gang relations at Rancho, and students warning him of potential altercations at school………………………………………………………..16-20 vii Talks about his time as a Marine during the Vietnam War, his brothers joining the armed forces, talks about the draft and choosing to enlist, how the Marine Corps influenced his career as an educator, his work as assistant principal [David Cox and Cynthia Cunningham elementary schools], becoming principal of Robert Taylor Elementary School. Describes the location of Robert Taylor [Boulder Highway and Lake Mead Blvd.], the student population, putting together a Renaissance fair to engage students in performing arts, how during Renaissance month the teachers at his school promoted the arts, and gives an example on how the theatre helped one of his student overcome his obstacles…………………………………………………………...21-25 Ochoa shares the dissolution of the art programs he started at Robert Taylor, how the lack of standardized test scores helped him implement such programs, and his campaign to get more technology into his classrooms. Talks about his second wife’s work as a teacher at the Las Vegas Day School and the Christmas outreach program they started between their respective schools, starting a botanical garden at Robert Taylor, working with the State of Nevada to harvest native desert plants for the garden, and installing teaching stations for classes to use the garden….26-30 Describes the beginning of Violins for Kids at Sunrise Acres, his work after retiring from CCSD after 27 years, borrowing violins from the school district through the partnership office [School Community Partnership Program], co-founding Foundation to Assist Young Musicians [FAYM] with Hal Weller after watching YouTube video of Krzyszof Rucinski, starting the program with 150 students at the East Las Vegas Community Center, opening a second location for FAYM at the Pearson Center, and the goal of FAYM to provide musical opportunities to low-income students from a young age. Shares the success of FAYM through its partnership with the Smith Center for Performing Arts; both to have the students attend an orchestra show and to perform themselves. Ochoa describes the importance of parents’ involvement in FAYM, lists the music conductors that help run FAYM, the implementation of a mariachi class and the different instruments the children can learn…………………………………………………………....31-35 Talks about the partnership between FAYM and Touro University, the field trips the students take, the times the FAYM students rehearse at each location, and how the program offers an after school alternative for low-income families. Describes the impact FAYM has on students based on the feedback they receive, parents’ involvement in during classes, and the importance of commitment to the program. Ochoa shares the story of how he arrived in Las Vegas in 1979 and describes the location of his home and working in Henderson [Hooterville]. Mentions the partnership he created with St. Rose Hospital in Henderson through Sister Joseph Bailey….36-40 Elaborates on the partnership with St. Rose Hospital and how it benefited the students’ families with no insurance. Shares a story of how the hospital helped one of his students after they were hurt in an accident. Talks about the help he received from business woman, Selma Bartlett, and Henderson mayor, Lorna Kesterson, for his students. Mentions his family’s origin in Sonora, his family history, his father migrating to California for work, his family working in the fields and taking him with them in a tomato crate and the significance that has had on his life. Describes his father’s work building the railroads in Tucson and maintaining the railroad tracks and growing up speaking Spanish………………………………………………………………………… 41-45 viii Shares the memory of his first wife who died of breast cancer. Talks about meeting his second wife [Cindy] and combining their families and cultures, the tamale making Christmas tradition his family has had for over 30 years, and the participation in the family tradition his children and grandchildren take part in. Recalls his children participating in el Baile Folklórico Mexicano de Martha Luevanos. Describes his identity as Mexican with the understanding that he is American aw well, an encounter with a former student, his mother [] being from Jerome, Arizona, visiting the town his mother grew up in, and collecting the history of his family through stories to pass on to his children and grandchildren…………………………………………………………….46-50 Talks about the diversity of the Las Vegas Valley and the need to encourage more people of color into leadership positions to better reflect and serve the student population, his fight with the district to implement diversity initiatives, and Latinx CCSD superintendents Carlos Garcia and Jesus Jara. Reflects on the hiring changes in the administration positions across the district. Describes the challenges Latinx students face in special education programs due to misdiagnosis of their needs, how special education should reflect population patterns but disproportionately consist of students of color………………………………………………51-54 Shares thoughts on the term ‘Latinx’, his travels across Latin America, Latinx students in higher education, and humanity. Depicts how he and the Hispanic Educators Association of Nevada started the Hispanic Baccalaureate [known as Hispanic Graduation] which started with a few students and now more than 1,300 students participate each year…………………………...55-58 1 My name is Monserrath Hernandez and we are here in the Oral History Research Center. It is April ninth, 2019. I am with… Barbara Tabach. Today we will be interviewing Art Ochoa. Yes, Arturo. There is a story between Art and Arthur. That’s one of the things that I thought might be interesting was just some observations of my own life seeing some of the—and I don’t want to say racism, but just some of the judgments that people have when they see someone of a different ethnic composition. My name is Arturo; yet, when I started elementary school, the teachers could not pronounce Arturo, so somebody changed it to Arthur. I grew up as Arthur even though my legal name, my real name is Arturo. I grew up as Arthur because we were kids and I was in East L.A. and there were rules that you couldn’t speak Spanish on the school campus. It was just kind of strange. I wanted to fit in, so I didn’t fight it; I allowed it to happen. I grew up as Arthur. I got my driver’s license as Arthur. I got my Social Security card as Arthur. I joined the Marine Corps as Arthur. It wasn’t until I was at the university many, many, many years later that I was in the education program and one of the teachers was talking to us future teachers, explaining that you accept your children the way they come to you and you do what you can to accept all aspects of them, including their names. If you can’t pronounce names, practice their names. She said, “Ask the child, how does your grandmother pronounce your name? And then try to pronounce the name like grandmother does. Physically practice it.” Now, I was an adult. I was already married and had a one and a half children; my wife was expecting. I am sitting there doing a slow burn because I’m grown up and somebody changed my name. Exactly the next day, I went to the university office and changed my name to 2 Arturo; that’s who I am. The process has been kind of lacking. On Social Security, I am still Arthur. Now that I’m on Medicare, I’m having issues with who am I really. It’s fun. Anyway, I thought it would be kind of interesting just to give some of the observations of what it’s like being treated a little bit different simply because of your ethnicity. My name is super hard to pronounce. Yes, Monserrath is… No one tries. All my life they were like, “Uh…Hernandez.” I was like, “That’s me.” Roll call was a nightmare. I’m curious. Do you have a middle name? Figueroa; it’s my mother’s maiden name. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the traditions in Mexico. The child’s name is the mother’s last name and the understanding is we always know for sure who the mother is, but we’re not sure about the father, so the child gets the mother’s last name. It’s also important when a child—we came to the United States and in the United States it’s different. My family just kind of adjusted to that. I became Ochoa after my father’s name, but I keep Figueroa as my mother’s maiden name; that’s my middle name and it’s just one of these things. Where were you born? I was born in Greenfield, California, which is in Monterey County; it’s Northern California. I was born in a tomato field where my family worded. I put together a presentation for educators—I call it “Growing up Mexicano” in the United States—where I give a lot of background and history and explanation of what it’s like to grow up in the system as a Mexicano. During the time of the grape strikes in California back in the sixties, there was a fellow named Rudolfo “Corky” Gonzales that wrote a book; it’s called Yo soy Joaquín; My Name is Joaquin, a 3 bilingual book, so one page English and the next page Spanish, same thing. I was in high school and I got a hold of Yo soy Joaquín and I am reading that book, identifying with it, because I grew up not being able to identify with who I was. In the United States, they referred to us as “those Mexicans.” We would go to Mexico to visit my cousins in Mexico, and we’d be “those Gringos.” We didn’t have a country. When I read Yo soy Joaquín—it’s out of print, but I have a copy—I felt I was him. I read Yo soy Joaquín as a high school student, totally identifying with everything that was written in that book about the way that the Hispanic is looked at and treated. It made a big difference. I put together this presentation and I call it Yo soy Joaquín where I come in with a big straw hat, a jorongo, (similar to a poncho) and there is this old bag made out of burlap material that’s multi-colors, but it’s made out of a real rough material like burlap. I walk in with my bag and I go sit in a corner with my head down. Eventually they’ll introduce me as Joaquin to come up, because I don’t tell them who I am or what I’ve done or anything other than my name is Joaquin. When they finally introduce me, I stand up, walk to the front, and start talking in Spanish, introducing me. “My name is Joaquin.” All in Spanish. “My father’s name is Joaquin. His father before him was Joaquin. And his father before him was Joaquin, also. Four generations of Joaquines. I talk about how my father was a farmer like his father was a farmer like his father before him. I tell them I’m a farmer. But then I start going into English and I say the same thing in English. But it gives kind of an insight to some of the issues that we as Hispanics often face in our attempt to reach equality. I put together this presentation primarily for teachers, for future teachers so that they could look at each face in their classroom and understand that their job is to raise that child, every child, to the highest level possible with education and knowledge. 4 I have a lot of fun getting into theatrics with my Yo soy Joaquin presentation because at the end I ask them, “Do you know why I sat in the corner with my head down, taking a siesta? Because that’s what you think of when you see a Hispanic. That’s the first thing that comes to mind; sitting under a cactus, taking a siesta. I said, “So, I just wanted to make sure that we were clear that this is the way I’m often seen. No matter what, I’m interpreted as that little guy sitting under the cactus, taking a siesta.” Then I talk about things that I’ve observed. I was a young man in Tucson, Arizona, so I was in sixth grade. From sixth grade up I was in Tucson, Arizona. There was a joke that you would hear all the time on the radio and on TV. This joke was: If you see a white man driving a Cadillac down the road, what do you think? And the answer is: You think successful businessman. If you see a black man driving the same expensive Cadillac down the road, what do you think? You think drug dealer. If you see a Hispanic driving that same Cadillac, what do you think? You think car thief. I’m sorry, but that was a joke. It still makes me angry! That was supposed to be funny. Yes. I get…But that was said everywhere and everybody would giggle because people judge different ethnic groups. When did you know that that joke wasn’t funny? It hit me hard when I first heard it. I understood it as just people trying to express their own superiority or their perceived superiority. Why did Mexicans or black people have to justify the fact that they had a Cadillac, right? Yes. When automatically white people, oh yes, they’re successful, right? 5 It’s been kind of interesting that my whole life I have seen things like this where the perceptions of people are weird. Another example, I was in either fifth or sixth grade; I don’t remember exactly. We had a presentation where the Boy Scout leaders in their uniforms came in and they talked about being a Boy Scout. They talked about the field trips that they take, carving the wooden race cars, and camping; all the fun stuff of being a Boy Scout. They said: “When we’re done with our presentation, we’ll give you applications, so if you want you can join our scout troop." They finish and I am just dying, waiting for my application, and I’m wondering, will my mother sign it? Will she let me be part of this? I wanted to be a Boy Scout. All the things they described were things that I wanted desperately to do. They finish. There were three guys decked out in Boy Scout leader uniforms. They were done. They separated and went down the rows, putting applications on the desks of all the white boys. They walked right by me, didn’t put an application down on my desk. That is one of the things that was just part of the world. That’s the way it was. Did you ask them why didn’t you get one? I was too timid. But I got even. When I became a principal, one of the things that I did at Sunrise Acres is I started a Boy Scout unit. Sunrise Acres is in a Hispanic community, in the barrio. I started a Boy Scout unit there because it was important for me to see Hispanic children wearing the uniform. This idea of penetrating white spaces. Penetrating; that’s a good word, yes, yes. Penetrating white spaces with your presence and your contribution, right? 6 Yes. These are personal experiences that have kind of shaped who I am and what I am. I’ve reached some levels where I’m kind of tickled with what I can see that I’ve touched. I keep running into my former students. I was a sixth-grade science teacher for many, many years. It’s exciting when you bump into a man or a woman that says, “You were my teacher.” It’s the neatest thing. I used to teach science, but I would also share a little bit of my culture. I would take roll and the children would say presente or aquí; here or present. I was just taking roll. I would share a little bit of my language with them. Every once in a while I would insert a Spanish word and I would teach the class a Spanish word, but I was a science teacher. Not too long ago I was coming out of the Omelet House there on Charleston near the freeway, near 15. I was coming out of the Omelet House and a homeless man approached me. “Are you Mr. Ochoa?” “Yes, sir, I am.” “Do you remember me?” I’m looking at him, “I’m sorry, I don’t.” Then he starts laughing. He says, “Mr. Ochoa, I’m Placido Dominico. What you see is not what I am.” He said, “Come here.” He walked me over to a small car in the parking lot. It was just an inconspicuous small car. He opened up the trunk and the trunk was full and covered with one of those green military blankets, those wool blankets. It was completely covered. He pulls off the corner of the blanket. Front and foremost is an FBI vest, a rifle and all kinds of FBI gear. He says, “Mr. Ochoa, I’m undercover right now.” He says, “You’re the one that made this happen for me.” I said, “What do you mean?” He says, “Well, I was in your classroom in sixth grade and you would speak Spanish to us and I became interested…” His name is Placido Dominico. He was an Italian. He said, “You made me interested in learning Spanish. I finished sixth grade at a sixth grade center.” He says, “I went to middle school and I took Spanish classes. I went to high school and I took Spanish classes. I went to college and I took Spanish classes. I went into law enforcement and ended up in the FBI.” He says, “But because I was bilingual I did 7 a lot of time—I can’t tell you about it—I did a lot of time in Mexico in the drug cartels as an undercover agent. But you taught me to love Spanish.” So that spark ignited. Oh gosh, yes. What did you feel like? I hugged him. I felt twenty feet tall to know many, many years later that something that I did without knowing I sparked a little bit of something for his future. He thanked me profusely and he remembered all the things that we used to do in the classroom and how much fun he had. I taught science with a hands-on approach. My first day of class I would tell the kids, “There’s two ways of doing things in this classroom, just two ways, the wrong way and my way. If you’re not doing it my way, it’s wrong. There’s two ways.” I had all kinds of rules. But one of the things that I did is I held up a textbook on the first day of school, and I said, “This is what I think about textbooks,” and then I go over to the trashcan and drop it into the trashcan. The kids would clap and cheer. Then I said, “Now, here’s the bad news. We’re not going to read the textbooks; you’re going to write the textbook.” They had to take notes for everything and they had to present the notes. It was sixth-grade science, but it was at a much higher level of expectation. I’m sorry but I have so many stories. You do because you were an educator. Let’s ask you to fill in your journey, how you became an educator. I was born in Northern California, but I went to elementary in California, East L.A. by the Lorena Street and First Street Bridge, and East L.A. area. One day my brothers that were older than I came home bragging about a kid that got beat up in school; that they beat him up with 8 milk crates, these big, heavy steel milk crates; and that the kid was lying on the ground and he was a bloody mess. My brothers came home talking about this and my parents heard this and immediately decided to move us to Tucson, Arizona where there wasn’t the gang influence. I went sixth grade on up in Tucson, Arizona. Now, Tucson, not quite a hundred miles, like ninety-eight miles from Nogales, Mexico. Tucson had a large Hispanic community. I lived in the south side and went to Sunnyside High School. The school was I’m going to guess 75 percent Hispanic. It had the best auto shop, the best wood shop, the best welding shop, the biggest home economics department; all the things to teach students the trades. I was in my junior year and I was an A-student and occasional B. I was number thirteen out of a class of five hundred and sixty; five hundred and sixty kids in my junior class and I was number thirteen from the top. I took AP classes in math and in science. All I needed in my senior year to graduate was one-half credit and it could have been in PE because I had already taken all the required subjects. I wanted to be surgeon and I didn’t know how to get there. I went to see my counselor because counselors know everything. I probably said something stupid like, what do I do next? This counselor gets up, goes to his file cabinet, opens the drawer, pulls up my file, me. He’s going through it. “Good; uh-huh; good; good grades.” He’s doing all these things. Finally he closes the file and he puts away. All kinds of good, uh-huh, excellent. He sat at his desk, put his elbows on his desk and his chin in his hands, and looked right at me. He said, “I think you should study to be a mechanic.” Even though you had proof that you were perfectly capable, it was this judgment of… Judgment. He suggested I become a mechanic and I have no difficulty with mechanics. I do a lot of mechanical work myself. But what he was trying to program into me was wrong and I knew it 9 was wrong, but I didn’t know what to do about it. So I thanked him and I walked out of his office and I walked off the campus and I never came back. I am a high school dropout, officially a high school dropout. I would have graduated in 1970, but I dropped out of high school. I started working for Circle K stores, did inventories, eventually became a store manager, and got married. During that time I saw that the money was not good enough, so I went to work in a copper mine. I was driving a dump truck right out of Tucson, Arizona, making great money, but it was incredibly boring work. Open-pit copper mine. I had this eighty-five-ton dump truck that we’d go around the rim of the hole going down where they’d scoop out the dirt whether it had copper ore in it or just overburden, which was things that did not have the minerals in it. We’d drive it out and either go to the crusher if it had copper or go to the dump if it was just dirt and rocks. I did that for two years and was bored out of my mind, just bored. One day I came home and told my wife, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this for thirty years. I’ll go crazy.” She asked me what I wanted to do. I said, “I want to go to college and become an engineer.” She said, “You don’t have that piece of paper.” I said, “Well, I’ll take the GED.” Instantly, my wife, who was an incredible woman, said, “I’ll get a full-time job and you go to college and get your degree.” I went down to the GED office, walked in off the street and asked about the GED. I was told that I needed to sign up for a two-week class and then take one test and then another two-week class and take the next test. They were doing it in sections. I said, “No, I want to take it now. I just want to take it now.” She said, “Well, you can’t do that.” I said, “Is there a law against it?” She said, “Hold on.” She made a phone call to Central Office. I could hear her side of the conversation only. “Yes, he’s here. He wants to take it now. Yes. Okay.” She hung up and looked at me and said, “You can take it, but you’re going to fail.” I said, “Just give me the test.” 10 She then handed me one test and walked me to a tiny room across from her desk. She directed me to sit at the table and take the test. The door to the room had a window which allowed her to see if the test takers were cheating. I went in and took the test. It took me about an hour or so to take the first test. I walked outside and put it on her desk. I said, “Can I have the next one?” She looks at me with these big eyes and says, “But you’re going to fail.” I said, “Give me the test.” She passed me the next test and I went in and took the next test. An hour or so later, I came out again. Every time I asked her for a test she would say, “You’re working so hard and you’re going to fail.” I took four of the tests and told her, “I’m going to go home and get something to eat and then I’ll come back and take the fifth test.” She looked at me and it looked like she wanted to pat me on the head and say, you’re going to fail, but we’ll help you. I went home and I’m thinking, I’m going to fail; I’m going to fail; I’m going to fail. It just sat so heavy on me that I didn’t go back that day, but I went to sleep on it. The next morning I said, “I can’t not finish.” The next day I went and took the final test. I said, “Okay, what’s next?” She said, “Well, it will take three or four weeks. You’ll get something in the mail. But once you get your paper that says you didn’t pass, you can come in and register to take the classes and we’ll…” I went home furious that I had to wait for three weeks just to get an answer. She couldn’t grade it right there and just give me the results. At the end of the three-week period of waiting for a response from the GED office, I came home from work and my wife was not home. I went inside and there was a little note on the refrigerator that she had gone grocery shopping. I looked on the table and there was no mail on the table, so I went out to the mailbox outsid