“Looking Through the Wall: Exploring Immigration on the Border with Students” by Dr. Robert Neudstadt was a symposium held in the Arizona Western College Frances Morris Boardroom on Tuesday, March 6th, 2012.  He spoke to Arizona Western College students, Honors students, as well as some Yumans about border issues, specifically the issue of building walls or fences to separate the United States and Mexico.  I attended this symposium as a part of my Honors Seminar class. 

Dr. Neudstadt described how he had taught a seminar at Northern Arizona University and of the ignorance some of his students had about border issues.  Ironically, our class had also realized how ignorant many of us were about border issues.  This is odd since we live so near to the border.  In a way, I think the ignorance of educated individuals about the border problem is a reflection on the amount of misinformation (if any information at all) that comes from the media.

Although I was thoroughly piqued over the amount of funds the United States has wasted on an ineffective (not to mention inhumane) division, I was grateful to Dr. Neudstadt for opening my eyes, as well as those of the other students.  The idea that hundreds upon millions of dollars were (and are) being spent on a separation of land that has resulted in floods and the further endangerment of already-threatened species made my blood boil.   When I heard the quote by Janet Napolitano saying, “If you show me a twelve foot fence, I’ll show you a fourteen foot ladder”, it really hit me how truly ignorant the American government is.  Set aside the fact that they are spending incredible amounts of money on the walls while we go from a triple-A rated country to a double-A rating.  Set aside the fact that we are billions, if not trillions, of dollars in debt.  Forget that the very construction of these walls is digging us further into debt; not only is this terrible for our economy (it cannot possibly be creating that many jobs), but it is completely futile. If that doesn’t piss off the American population, I don’t know what will. It is no wonder to me that the border issues are not getting much media coverage; if American citizens truly knew the issues, both moral and economic, that was surrounding the border, there might be a little more anger—or a little more sympathy.  In a way, the information that Dr. Neudstadt provided, although eye-opening, was my least favorite part because it likely raised my blood pressure.

The part of the presentation that I most enjoyed was hearing how Dr. Neudstadt’s students transformed through the seminar.  I was almost moved to tears at hearing the metamorphosis of one student from feeling cold towards “illegal” immigrants to giving an immigrant her sweater to keep him warm.  Although I may not have met the people that we have discussed or truly witnessed the issues we’ve debated, I myself feel that I have changed.  I mentioned in class how I felt that I was somewhat prejudiced before we studied these issues.  After researching and hearing the stories of the people who are dying trying to cross the border, between the ages of one year old to seventy, I came to an epiphany: Survival should not be a crime.  My “favorite part” of Dr. Neudstadt’s presentation, as well as the theme of this seminar so far, is the fact that I feel I have grown as an individual.

I learned a lot about the truth behind the border issues.  I was shocked at the statistics, the numbers, and the money.  I suppose I should say that my overall reaction was…anger.  The thing that enraged me most, even more than the waste of money, was the action taken at “Friendship Park”.  Being a person who strongly believes in the right for people to practice their religion, I was horrified that the masses held across the fence at Friendship Park were put to an end by a three-layer wall.  To me, this only has one intention.  The message my own government is sending is that the immigrants should not have hope, therefore depriving them of (what I consider to be) a basic human necessity. 

Although I doubt it truly has much relevance to the border issue, I did find this particular quote interesting.  I am unsure as to whether or not the issue at hand is even comparable to this suggestion, but this was the first thought that came to mind after I saw Dr. Neudstadt’s presentation.  I think the speaker need not be introduced:

“We welcome change and openness; for we believe that freedom and security go together, that the advance of human liberty can only strengthen the cause of world peace. [I]f you seek peace, if you seek prosperity…if you seek liberalization, come here to this gate.  [O]pen this gate…Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

Sometime in March, a classmate and friend of mine was given a project in her Graphic Design class with Professor Brad Pease.  She was paired with an English student who was assigned to her in order to provide the information for her graphics project.  The English student never got back to her.  Hearing about this trouble and being concerned for her bad fortune, I volunteered to do the research that she needed as one of my co-curricular activities for Honors Seminar.  After Erin ran it by Professor Pease, he displayed to her that he felt such an approach was exactly the kind of activity he was trying to support.  Therefore, I began to do research on the subjects, which were Dolores Huerta and the Yuma Crossing Massacre.  I feel that this is the kind of project I am qualified to do, as I have taken multiple 200-level English courses.  I finished the project early on April 9^th, 2012 and emailed it to her. 

 I enjoyed learning about the history of Yuma.  I was surprised that I did not know much about the history, especially the massacre.  I read a detailed account from 1850, written by a man named Abel Stearn, who described the way the Yumas (an “Indian” tribe) attacked an American group sometime in April of 1850.  I then typed it out and found other sources for Erin to use.  I also made her a works cited list.  Something that I found truly interesting was that the ferry (Yuma Crossing) was a lucrative transportation business, making thousands of dollars in gold and silver, which were apparently stolen by the Native Americans.  If that amount of money were to be figured through an inflation calculator, it might be equal to millions of dollars in modern currency.

I should say that the thing I least enjoyed was certain aspects of the Yuma Crossing Massacre account.  The way they described each individual was rather interesting, although slightly disturbing.  It was obvious that, in those days, one’s race was considered important.  They referred to one man as an “Irishman” and one other man as a “negro”.  I found it interesting that Yuma, at that time, was part of California, yet nearly three groups were fighting for it.  There is mention of “Mexicans”, whom the author seems to have some slight disdain (or distrust) for, the “Indians” (Native Americans) who are described as violent, and the Americans, who are portrayed consistently as innocent victims—something that I came to doubt, since the story was completely one-sided.   More disturbing than that was the fact that after some of the men had been killed, their dogs were burnt alive with them, along with their possessions, some of their food, and their houses.  The idea of burning an animal alive, to me, is mortifying.

Furthermore, as I began to read about Dolores Huerta, a woman that I knew nothing about nor had I ever heard of, I came to find her life very interesting.  It is always inspiring to learn about individuals who have impacted our society in spite of deterring factors, in her case being her Latino descent, which was a target of prejudice at the time.  I felt that one of the many things she did to improve the agricultural environment was to fight the use of dangerous pesticides.  As a child, I lived very near to agricultural crops (I would run through them as a little girl) and my mother would worry that the crop dusting would damage my health.  Although I know Huerta made many improvements in the realm of civil liberties, I was personally relieved that she made a difference in an area which might have personally affected me.

On Saturday, March 17th, 2012, I played in a concert of Celtic music with the Yuma String Ensemble.  I usually hold second chair as a prima violinist, but for the sake of learning the technique, throughout the concert I switched the position of concertmistress back and forth with another prima violinist.  The concert was the product of the String Ensemble class, led by Professor Maggie Fenske, and was held in the St. Paul’s Cultural Center on 2^nd Avenue in downtown Yuma, Arizona.  The concert began at 7:00pm and ended around 9:00pm.

We played many old Gaelic tunes, such as The Wind that Shakes the Barley and The Star of County Down, as well as the American-Irish tune Danny Boy.  In comparison to our Christmas concert, I felt that the audience size (comprised mostly of “winter visitors”) had certainly improved.  I went to this concert because I have a deep love for playing the violin–I have played this instrument since I was four years of age.  

To perform with such a talented group of string players is, to me, a privilege.  The general feeling of our ensemble is one of an almost familial nature.  It is a joy to play with them.  Moreover, music in itself has a very important role in my life.  It is sometimes the only thing that I have that keeps me motivated on stressful days.  If I were to use a hyperbole to make my point, I would say that playing music isn’t a “plus” or an “addition” to my life; it is sometimes the last thread that keeps me breathing with sanity.   After the performance, the owner of the building had Irish deserts waiting for the players and audience. 

Moreover, my favorite part of the concert was, by far, the “experience” of playing.  It isn’t so much the idea of performing for a crowd that is exciting.  Sometimes when I begin to play, I don’t feel like I am in front of an audience or even in an orchestra.  I feel as if I am completely alone with the music, feeling the vibrations of the instruments beneath my feet, swaying to the beat, and all the while having fun with a little improvising.  The vibe of the building lent itself to the rustic quality of the music, as it had lovely acoustics.  The dark wooden walls and the vaulted ceiling truly helped accentuate the sound, as well as the atmosphere.  If there is anything that I would recommend to someone to experience before he or she dies, it would be to sit with an orchestra during a concert.  To be in the crowd is one thing; to feel the music resonate under my feet and to sense the sound like an envelope around my brain is a far more beautiful thing than to sit still in the pews.

My only complaint concerning the concert would be that the weather was not conducive to our setup.  The door of the church was not properly secured, so every once in a while it would slam open and shut with a gust of wind.  The sound was distracting and, quite frankly, frightening.  Since St. Paul’s Cultural Center is one of the oldest buildings in Yuma, built in the early 1900s, the door wasn’t in the best shape.  Thankfully, however, the door was eventually blocked shut, sparing us all the unnecessarily loud crash. 

The activity helped teach us how to function as a chamber group.  We did not have a conductor.  Each instrument group took turns starting and directing the pieces, which taught us all valuable chamber group skills.  I enjoyed the concert very much and when I graduate I feel that the String Ensemble will be one of the many things that I will miss most dearly.

It is a new semester…and my last.  After this, I only have two more classes left to take, which I am saving for the summer.  I am “graduating” this semester.  I will be in the graduation ceremony.  But, until then, I hope to reserve for myself those pleasures which only come from a new semester.  I realize that we are already about three weeks in, but this was the first thing I wrote the night before the first day of class:

  “The smell of textbooks, grass, clay, and library dust, the thought  of PowerPoint presentations and long essays, the sight of hummingbirds and rabbits roaming campus –and, unfortunately, the occasional mourning dove cracking its skull on the Ceramics Lab’s window—all remind me that it is time to return to my addiction.  I often refer to Academia as my boyfriend, for several reasons.  He takes up all my time yet makes me feel as if I am neglecting him.  I usually love him, while simultaneously abhorring him.   He makes me feel abysmally stressed out and angry, yet somehow I refuse to leave him.  And, unlike some of his previous flames, I have insisted on a serious relationship.

However, it occurs to me now that it is not necessarily true that Academia is my “boyfriend”.  It is my addiction.  I find myself with practically nothing to do during the Winter Break but stare at my bedroom ceiling and recite poetry for fun.  Or create a biographical PowerPoint on one of my favorite authors—for fun.  Or read the dictionary—for fun.  I realize that all these somewhat useless tasks have slowly carried me through the depressing boredom of Winter Break.  Now, I have become eager with the anticipation of some sort of useful activity.  I know I’ll probably end up working myself to the bone—from my brain and out towards my inner skull—with the first swing of my classroom’s door.  But once that door opens, it will once again be as if I were given a dose of my addiction in order to quell the withdrawal pains.  However, I still have one day left.  One day left.  Stare at bedroom wall.  Feel brain cells die…

So here I am, anxiously waiting for the moment when I walk into my classroom with bags full of clay in my arms and textbooks in my backpack.   I wait yearningly for the moment when I walk into the library and sit at an old wooden desk in order to memorize the information surrounding centuries-old art pieces.  I await that beautiful feeling of accomplishment after a quiz.  (I don’t await the anxiety that comes during the quiz, but one must accept the good with the bad.)

I am waiting.  I feel like Barnaby Tucker and Cornelius Hackl as they conspire to visit New York in Hello Dolly!  Oh, that’s another thing I did during the semester—I watched old Barbra Streisand musicals.” 

Please, you don’t have to remind me.  I’ll admit it myself:  I am a complete nerd.

~Maya Springhawk Robnett, 1/28/12

Contact me at msr@toro.azwestern.edu or leave a comment.  <3