When I heard Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch speak at our National Conference in
December of 2012,. I was determined to learn more about this remarkable.
Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch: A Remarkable Journey
By Rob Gira, Executive Vice President, AVID Center
W
hen I heard Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch speak at our National Conference in December of 2012, I was determined to learn more about this remarkable leader, author, and child advocate. What an intriguing story: One of 10 children raised in the barrio in Laredo, Texas (an area then known as the Devil’s Corner), she made her way through the hazards of poverty, drugs, and violence, on to college, and then became the highest-ranking Hispanic female officer in the Combat Support Field of the U.S. Army. Today, as a motivational speaker and consultant, she is equally comfortable working with families in migrant camps, speaking with schools and districts, or inspiring the leaders of corporations. Consuelo entered school speaking little to no English, but through the high expectations and support from her parents, neither of whom had more than a grade school education, she and her brothers and sisters achieved great success. Eight of the children are veterans, and Consuelo herself retired as a Lieutenant Colonel. After hearing her speech, I read her book, Journey to the Future, which is intended for adolescents and details some of the challenges that she faced, including racism, sexual abuse, and the low expectations of some teachers who saw her as one of “those kids.” Spiritual, motherly, and hilarious, Kickbusch did not meet my stereotype of the military officer, but now she commands in perhaps a more powerful way. In your books and in your presentations, you refer a great deal to the influence of your mother and father, describing them as your first teachers. What were some of the great lessons you learned from them? I learned that there are two types of education that every young person should acquire. My parents felt that it was their responsibility to educate me and that
4
it was the school system’s responsibility to prepare me. There were certain character traits they wanted me to have, and they encouraged these by telling me stories. My parents were very committed to a set of values, which I include in my book. They believed in integrity, humility, and pride. Humility and pride worked together in my parents’ eyes. Lots of people
struggle with that. My father believed that you can do a job well and that will attract people and praise, but that humility comes first. You rose through the ranks of the military, a much-decorated leader. Yet, it was a pivotal moment with your mother that gave you a different vision for leadership and set you on the path you now travel. What happened? After I left Laredo, my mother remained in the barrio. In thinking back on the environment there, I know it was challenging in my youth, with drugs and violence, but the later years there for my mother saw a change. The violence had escalated to the point where she was afraid to even cross the street. The random violence from gangs troubled her greatly. She felt that we were losing the whole fabric of our society. People were afraid to even sit on their porches. She asked herself, “What can I do? Perhaps I can encourage my own successful child to lend a hand.” She knew I had accomplished a great deal. She came to visit me when I was about to receive my Master’s degree. She said to me, “I am dying.” I laughed and said, “You die every Thursday.” And she replied, “No, this time I am,
and I have a last wish.” It was clear she had thought about it. So, we took a walk as we always did when we had something to consider. And as always, she made me take off my shoes. I now had middle-class feet, and I asked why we were doing this. She said, “I want your feet on the ground for this. They say you are a leader? But are you the most extraordinary kind?” I asked her what she meant. “Extraordinary leaders pass on all they learned. Watching your father and me, didn’t you see us share with others, how your father attended to troubled families? Did you not observe that we are all tied together?” Keep in mind that my father had no formal education, and my mother made it through third grade. I had no answer for my mother. I was so consumed with my current leadership path. She then reminded me that when we serve others, we live a complete life, a life with no regrets. She asked me to stop what I was doing, end my career, and find a way to serve. I told her I didn’t think I could do it. Why? I think we just go after things with such focus—the next rank, the next house, the next car, running a race of acquisition. My mother put a stop sign in front of me, but I ignored it. I
Continued on page 15
5
Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch: A Remarkable Journey Continued from page 5 didn’t think I had what it took. When she died two weeks later, I realized I needed to change my life. When I began to work with gang members, I saw them as more than just dangerous kids; I saw all of them, the whole child. All of this was because of my mother. She would be proud.
kids have come in two months after school has started, and they are scared, scrambling to catch up. Then, there’s this one counselor who goes out to the camps with food and clothing, inviting the parents to come to the school and learn how to make it work for them.
In your travels, you visit many difficult areas—migrant camps, poor communities, challenged schools. What gives you hope?
I wish we could be a little more creative, develop a network, and use technology to connect all the teachers who serve these children. Maybe we could improve their attitude. These are very hard-working kids.
When I go to a low-performing school, where everyone always expects the worst, I can always find maybe this one teacher or this one principal who thinks, “We are here for the kids.” They stay on campus late at night, thinking, “What else can I do?” Sure, they could use more funding, but you can’t dismiss the situation and feel helpless when you see these “angels.” You can’t see the schools the same way again.
When I go in and speak to the migrant families, they always want one more picture with me, so they can show their kids and say, “Look, she made it; you can make it.” What these families have is a unique love for their children. Earlier this year, I had to drive four hours to get to a camp in Florida, spoke to them, and six weeks later, I get a letter with a photocopy of a child’s grades.
I go into migrant communities in Oregon and Michigan, and the
It is so important to get past our stereotypes.
In your speech at our National Conference, you described some educators as “angels on earth.” You also had some terrible experiences with educators growing up. Who were your angels and how did they help you? How did you overcome the bad educational experiences? I often ask educators what they perceive their work to be. Some say, “I had no idea I would have to be a mother, a psychologist, a nurse, all these roles,” and they are bitter. Others say, “I am blessed that students get so much from me.” With over 50,000 educators I’ve talked to, there seems to be no middle ground. They either resent the situation and want to retire, or they see that their role is to give and spend time with their students. I call them “angels on earth” because they are making the same pay as the bitter ones. I equate it to their passion and devotion. I am always in awe and so pleasantly surprised to hear them with such passion in equating everything they do for their students. I know one teacher who
15
Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch: A Remarkable Journey Your father was a great patriot, who never attained U.S. citizenship. Of the 10 children in your family, eight are veterans. How did this happen, and what has been the impact of military service on you and the family?
gives students rides to classes, takes them to concerts, and creates special events for them. That’s what I love about AVID. The first thing I notice about AVID educators is their attitude. They embrace the belief that they are there to serve. I wish every child could be exposed to AVID. I have been in many AVID schools and the common attitude is: no excuses. “We go the extra mile. We will not allow failure.” In your book, you recall a counselor who laughed at you when you said you wanted to go to college. What would you say to that counselor if you could sit down for a conversation? First, I would say, “You were wrong, and you need to own that you were wrong.” Second, I would say, “From this day forward, I hope you never think that some kids deserve counseling and some need to just be dismissed. You’re not doing America right.” I do have some school districts I work with who want me to say, “We don’t do those kinds of things anymore.” I tell them,
16
“Do you really believe this, that it is not still happening?” I hear from kids all the time that they are being told the exact same thing, that they are not cut out for college. In 2013, we still have this belief, that too many young people are not college material. It still exists.
My father wanted to be a citizen so much, but lack of English and education were the barriers. We had this ritual of his trying to pass the citizenship test each year, and he would return home and just tell us he was sorry. He really wanted a flag, so we thought we would just buy him one, so we did. He was actually offended. He was extremely proud of this country. Despite our poverty, he saw America as a beautiful place. He told us, “This cannot be my country, but it is yours. Don’t take from this country and not give back. The only flag I will accept from any of you is if you serve this country. It is your responsibility.” So, my older brother went into the military, had his picture taken, and the picture was placed on the wall, then my next brother, and my next, with the same ritual of the picture on the wall. I call
“Every single soul has a story.” Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch
it our Wall of Fame. My father and mother were so proud of this decorated wall in our tiny little house. So, growing up, I thought: I want my picture there, too. And my mother got these special pillows from my brothers, memory pillows from each branch. So, she was a “Marine mother,” and then an “Army mother.” When I was commissioned, I went to the quartermaster to get her another one, and I learned that they didn’t make them anymore. However, when I took command of one of the largest units in the army in Fort Hood, Texas, my mother was able to present me with my command flag. This was one of the few moments in history where a mother presented a command flag to her daughter. When I present to young women, I show the photo of that moment. In your book, you are very honest in describing the challenges of growing up in the barrio in Laredo, Texas, also referred to as “The Devil’s Corner.” You experienced poverty, sexual abuse, and many other challenges. Yet, you speak positively of your life there. How do you manage that? I wouldn’t trade my experience in
Laredo. I saw lots of evidence of the strength of the barrio. First of all, we communicated constantly with each other, and there was a feeling of family among us. I saw many examples of sincere love for one another. Of course, we had our tragedies, and when they occurred, we knew we had to step in. If someone had to go to the hospital, we always fed their family, watered their plants, and did what was necessary. We shared all we had, a constant traffic of sharing food, clothing, necessities, always with a willingness to give, with no agenda. We shared pain, joy, sorrow. We had faith in a better tomorrow, a belief in goodness that had not forgotten us. I took all these gifts from the barrio to college and then to military, remembering to be compassionate and non-judgmental. When I started into leadership positions, the sweetness of my barrio life rang true. I still long for it: people coming out to visit, bringing out the guitars, teaching the kids to sing.
and you even taught for a couple of years at a maximum security prison. What have you learned about how teachers can be the most successful with their students? I’ve learned three things about good teaching. First, we have to be interested in our students’ stories, know what their journey has been, and listen without filtering. Secondly, I believe a lot in benchmarking, asking yourself, given what you know about them, what must you do to close the gap. I can’t think that first-year teachers know of the importance of benchmarking and establishing metrics. This process should be used to look for solutions, not to defend failure. Number three, surround yourself with the best teachers you can. Find those older, world-class teachers and ask for their help. If a first-year teacher took that approach, it would be a great start.
Sure there was poverty, frustration, a bunch of us in one bed! But it was humanizing.
In your book, Journey to the Future, you have a chapter on identity, in which you encourage young people to speak up. Why is this so important, and what do you say to educators about listening to student voices?
You have been a teacher in one way or another for most of your life,
Every single soul has a story. Young people are often regarded as not ready, lacking wisdom,
17
Consuelo Castillo Kickbusch: A Remarkable Journey just there to receive instruction. Actually, young people are extremely insightful, and they struggle to be heard. They often feel invisible, unimportant, dismissed. As humans, we always struggle with who we are. If we can encourage young people to have a view of themselves, an identity, this benefits all of us. Sometimes, I see teachers who are very content-driven, low on relationships with their students. This is very sad to me. In one chapter in the book, you focus on work ethic, and you talk about your father, a minister who also worked with his hands for over 70 years. How did he influence your own work ethic? Oh my goodness, both my mother and my father had such strong work ethics! One story: I needed $10 in high school to pay the sports fee. We had very little money. But my father was always solution-driven. He said, “We will earn that $10. We will find you a job.”
18
My father figured we could go to some of the warehouses and offer to clean them, so we went to the first one and the foreman said, “Fine, but I am only going to pay one of you.” So, we went to work, and my father told me to watch him, do everything he did. “We will leave this place spotless. We will do more than they ask and they will want us to come back.” So, I was in the corners of this warehouse, on my hands and knees, scrubbing every corner. And the foreman came in, did the inspection, was impressed, and gave us $5 each. I fell in love with the idea of $10 and told my father maybe I should quit school and go to work. He taught me another lesson and said, “You can work hard, or you can work smart. Look at my body. You must work as hard with your mind as I do with my hands. Apply yourself as I have, and your brain will always be able to take on more.”
“The first thing I notice about AVID educators is their attitude. They embrace the belief that they are there to serve. I wish every child could be exposed to AVID.”
