“Melvin is the migrant story — someone who is absolutely
determined to overcome all obstacles,” said Dave Monson, his
teacher in AP psychology. “Obviously, he has intelligence, but
it is his work ethic that pushes him over the top from being a good
student to a great one.”
But the thing about Melvin, his teacher said, “is that anybody
who knows him, loves him. It’s not just the Hispanic kids: Ask
any student on campus and they all have respect for him. You sense
a maturity years beyond most of his peers.”
Melvin is a quiet presence, only 5-foot-5 and 140 pounds in T-shirt
and jeans. Yet he possesses a calm strength and easy smile that set
him apart.
“He’s very charismatic, a natural leader,” said
Nordhoff principal Dan Musick. “There’s just an edge about
him – a desire to be successful.”
As Latino students prepared for a May Day rally for immigration reform
last year, Melvin rose to tell the group that how it conducted itself
at the day’s Libbey Park protest would be how they would be
seen in the community for years to come.
“There were about 40 kids there,” Musick recalled, “and
he had them in his palm. They did their march, and it was peaceful
and respectful.”
But if Melvin is an example of anything, it’s that he is not
unique, Musick said. He is very much like those who came before him
and those who are following, as Nordhoff has transitioned from a school
with 10 percent Latino students two decades ago to about 25 percent
today.
“In fact, we have a couple of teachers who kind of went this
path before,” Musick said. “There’s Manuela Coronel
in the ‘80s and Javier Ramirez in the ‘90s. Their stories
are just as compelling. So Melvin has had role models. He’s
the third generation, and he’s bringing his friends along, too.”
Javier Ramirez, 29, first met Melvin four years ago while teaching
English to Spanish speakers. He’s become the student’s
advanced math teacher, mentor and cross country coach. The tiny youngster
eagerly joined Ramirez’s team as a freshman and has run varsity
all four years despite a chronic swollen knee the last two.
There are similarities between the teacher and his student, Ramirez
said. “But I came here with my family from Mexico. Melvin came
here alone. And that’s a mountain of difference. He’s
already passed his biggest challenge, which is survival.”
One recent day, with Ramirez as advisor, Melvin stood before 33 young
Latinos who’d given their lunchtime to meet as the Nordhoff
chapter of Future Leaders of America.
As president, Melvin passed out leaflets, including one that listed
SAT scores needed to enter colleges across America. In Spanish, he
spoke of a car wash and a candy sale.
Then senior Abel Barragan, who has been accepted at UC Davis, asked
the group, in English, for ideas for a play he was writing about “our
heritage.” “You can all help,” he said. And several
said they would.
The meeting was casual but disciplined. When it was over, Ramirez
said: “Melvin and Abel started this club for kids looking for
a higher education. Four years ago, Melvin didn’t think he could
ever do what he’s doing. Now he’s secure. He’s going
to succeed, and he’s going to make others around him succeed.”
In fact, there were quite a few Melvins in the classroom that day,
Ramirez said, pointing to junior Diego Silva, a top trigonometry student,
and senior Angela Ramirez, who had been admitted to a noted college
of graphic design.
Diego arrived in the United States Only three years ago. But now he’s
determined to be an engineering student at U.C. Berkeley. And Melvin
is showing him the way, he said.
“He’s helping me with my English,” Diego said. “He’s
like a leader of the Spanish people here. He encourages us, and now
I encourage Spanish people too.”
Melvin’s climb from street kid to student leader hasn’t
been easy.
After his mother left for the U.S., the 5-year-old stayed for a little
while at his aunt’s house. But he felt abandoned and rebellious
so he took to the streets, sleeping behind buildings, at churches
and at the homes of people he’d meet randomly.
He hung on street corners with his ragtag buddies and they became
associates of a huge street gang. He still carries its tattoo on his
left knuckle.
“It was hard,” he said. “Not having your family
is a really sad thing. And I started getting in a lot of trouble.
So I knew I had to leave or I would die.”
He’d also heard that his mother had had a baby girl in Los Angeles,
and Melvin wanted to meet his sister.
So he began his long migration to the United States, finding enough
work to feed himself and mostly walking to California. He arrived
in April 2003 and found his way to his grandma’s home in Meiners
Oaks.
“She was living in a little trailer and she let me stay,”
he said. But it was very crowded so he rented a tiny apartment, the
first of many moves before he settled this year with his grandmother,
sister, aunt and cousin in Oak View.
For the first couple of years he struggled with everything: He’d
go to school, work as a gardener and then go to the library in the
evening to listen to cassettes in English. Still, he made only two
B’s in school and eventually made up for that with A’s
in Advanced Placement classes.
“I was lucky,” he said. “I had so much help from
so many people. And I’d meet these ladies and they’d offer
me jobs and they’d tell their friends about me.”
Businesswoman Amy Bransky, who runs an educational consulting firm,
was one of those women. She got to know Melvin as he tended her yard,
hired him to do office chores, and now considers him a member of her
family.
“We’re all lucky to have him in this community,”
she said. “He’s just an extraordinary human being. Wise
beyond his years. Very hard working. Very caring. And he never turns
down an opportunity to serve others.”
Adam Reynolds, who serves meals on L.A.’s skid row on Sunday
mornings, met Melvin as he worked as a busboy at Antonio’s restaurant
in downtown Ojai. “I’d heard about him, so I asked him
to speak to a Buddhist youth group,” Reynolds said. “He
said, ‘That’s my mission on this planet, to help children.’
And I thought, how old is this guy anyway?”
Melvin’s goal, he said, is to become a doctor and help poor
children.
“The dream I always tell my grandma is if I had a choice I’d
go back to Guatemala one day and open an orphanage for kids like me,”
he said. “Every time I see a little kid who’s poor or
sick or needs help, I remember the way it was with me. And I think
that shouldn’t be happening in the life of a little kid.”
Nick Moller, owner of Antonio’s, is one of those enthralled
with Melvin because he is so diligent and skilled, yet humble. Moller
said he sees Melvin “as a little brother,” and was honored
to introduce him to fellow alumni at USC. They were so taken with
the potential Trojan during a campus visit, they called Melvin to
encourage him to apply, Moller said. He was quickly admitted. But
finances posed a problem because Melvin is not a U.S. citizen.
The same issue has emerged with every college application: While admitted
to 10 universities, including USC, UCLA and UC San Diego, Melvin has
not qualified even for work-study programs because campus jobs are
reserved for citizens.
Yet, he was not deterred.
“I will make it or I will die trying,” he said. “If
I want something I have to fight for it, and I’m trying my best.
And no matter what comes around, everything is going to be OK.”
Recently, he picked UCLA.
“I don’t know how I can afford it,” he said. “I’m
just going to work it out.”
Principal Musick has no doubt that Melvin will. And there’s
the possibility that someone will hear this immigrant’s story
and be moved to help:
“Somebody’s going to say this is a kid worth supporting.”
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