“No, Vincent. You are not a student here anymore.”
That day, I lost singing out the states in alphabetical order, playing the viola smoothly, and conquering long division with Ms. Hirota. That day, I learned homelessness takes everything away.
My mom just told me we were moving, I guess the rest of the story was too painful to tell. As we stuffed garbage bags into our bucket of a white Toyota, my sixth grade mind made sure I had everything of value; my swap meet “Virgensita” shirt and my prized Playstation. I kicked the dent by the gas tank one last time and we drove off in search of the shelter we would struggle to call home.
Surprisingly, losing our apartment and putting everything I owned in a garbage bag was not the most devastating part of being homeless. The fact that I would not graduate with the kids and teachers I had grown up with was the deepest blow. Without warning or the chance to say goodbye, I lost my childhood and the only place I belonged.
The shelter did not look like a home; it looked like a school cafeteria. Our bedroom was the size of a bathroom and it smelled like a dentist’s office. In this new "home" it became clear, we were homeless. I was alone in a shelter full of people.
After about a month, we were moved again this time to a worn-down hotel that looked as though a Tasmanian devil had come through. It was easy to lose hope but a educator at the shelter enrolled me in the middle school near our hotel. It symbolized hope and a new beginning. I couldn’t wait to walk its halls, meet its teachers and discover ancient civilizations.
From the first day, I jumped at every opportunity and received “A”s in my classes. At school, nothing could be taken from me. It didn't matter if my bed was not always assured, excelling in my work at school was what truly defined me. I knew respecting the teachers and befriending fellow students would secure my place as a leader in the classroom.
As I continue to set high goals for myself and achieve the success so few young Latino men attain, I am driven to raise my hand higher and push the discussion forward. I take honors and AP classes . When all APs were overcrowded, I found classes at the local community college so I could continue to challenge myself. Today, I see myself becoming something unexpected of a kid raised in a shelter with the last name Alvarez. With every success and progression in my journey to college, I know I must give voice to the millions of children who have lost their homes but not their hope. I have lost many things, but school with its doors open to new opportunities, always saved me.
As I move forward I am proud of the choices I have made. Soon, I will enter a world where there is no line between my academic life and the rest of my world. In that moment, I will know I have finally found “home”.
