Motherhood across Borders

by Gabrielle Oliveira

  Throughout the visits Violeta did not ask the teachers any questions. She did not ask for clarifications, and she did not defend her children or agree with the teachers. She listened to the teachers with her head down and talked to me under her breath often. She was mostly angry with the school staff and teachers. She was frustrated with the lack of support and with the “negative” comments about her children’s performance. She described the first teacher as an “idiot,” the second one as “racist,” and the third as “nice, but maybe too nice.” Violeta dreaded parent-teacher conferences and her role as the decision-maker and discipline enforcer for school-related issues in New York. All of the teachers complained to Violeta about the fact that she was the one writing down answers on her children’s homework, and more often than not teachers said the answers were wrong. I asked Violeta if she did the homework for her children and she told me she did.

  Violeta, like other mothers interviewed, grew frustrated with her “failed” attempts of helping the children succeed in school. And the injunction against Spanish pained her: she said, “They say don’t speak Spanish at home, but I don’t speak English … so should I not speak to my children at all?”

  VISITACIÓN, MEXICO. I walked to Andrés’s school with Tatiana. As we arrived, teachers and the principal were in one room chatting and having coffee. Tatiana stood at the door and kept her head down until they noticed her. “Hello, can I help you?” one teacher asked Tatiana. “Yes, I’m here because my son, I mean my grandson, Andrés, told me the principal wanted to talk about him to his mamá … so to me.” The principal asked her to take a seat and I introduced myself to him. Principal Leonardo explained that Andrés was very smart, but he bothered other students in class. “He finishes his assignment faster and then he bothers students, he teases them.” Tatiana responded “oh” or “ah,” but not more than that. The principal then called the other teacher and asked her to give Tatiana examples of Andrés’s behavior. Carmo, the teacher, explained,

  He is a teenager and he wants attention. My guess is that he doesn’t get attention at home … it happens. Also, Andrés likes to talk about his family in the United States and the video games he gets, shoes, etc. I tell the students write a response to this text we just read, he finishes before I am done explaining the assignment and he gets up and walks around, disturbing students with his stories.

  Tatiana occasionally looked up to the teacher and principal and finally responded, “I’ll tell his mother that.” The principal looked at me and said, “I feel bad because families are destroyed because of migration and poor grandma here has to raise teenagers. How unfair!” Carmo, the teacher, then explained that she sent several notes to Tatiana that she did not sign. She also said Andrés missed many visits to museums because he did not bring the release forms or the payment. Tatiana apologized and said she was going to talk to his mom. After a few minutes we stood up and left the school.

  Tatiana told me it was not the first time she had received complaints from Andrés’s teachers. She said,

  In the beginning, when he was younger, like seven or eight, he would come home crying every day and say “why did my mother leave me?” He didn’t want to go to school. He was sick. So he went to a … one of those … psychologists and he helped him. I feel bad because I feel like I can’t help him, I can just love him.

  If they could afford it, other grandmothers and caregivers in Mexico also resorted to psychologists when they thought the children were depressed or anxious. It was a common response for grandmothers and caregivers to say they felt they could not help children with school because they were “illiterate” and they needed to use professional help because “the mothers were gone.”

  PARALLEL EXPERIENCES. Violeta and her mother Tatiana both clearly felt disempowered when assisting children with school-related activities. In New York, Violeta struggled with a language barrier and felt nervous about her undocumented status. Her status never came up during the school visit, but she explained to me that being “ilegal” is a cloud you live under and you never know what will happen. Violeta understood her role as central in school decisions; she never questioned the fact that she was the one going to school for parent-teacher conferences and not her partner Silas. However, she felt inferior to teachers and complained that she could not “fully” help her children with homework if she did not understand the instructions. It was not just about the impact of the language barrier on Violeta’s ability to perform her role as a decision-maker in school-related subjects, it was about the expectation Violeta, her partner, her children, and other family members held that it was her role as the person who would “take care” of the children’s education. After all, she said, their opinion was: That’s why she left. On the other side, Tatiana did not experience a language barrier but as woman with a low level of schooling, she was uncomfortable in the school and did not always understand the discussion of homework, teachers’ notes, or other instructions. Tatiana also had Violeta and Violeta’s role in her mind when she responded to the teacher and principal: “I will tell his [Andrés’s] mother.”

  Grandmothers understood their roles as caregivers as an extremely important duty. Some caregivers endured abuse from their partners in order to, in the words of one, “provide a stable home for the children, since their mothers are gone, you know?” Grandmothers encouraged children to attend school and sometimes enforced school attendance. However, school attendance did not mean academic achievement, as some children go home and find no one to help with homework. A schoolteacher told me, “We don’t know what to do, because sometimes you see that [the children] are putting effort into learning, but when they go home they have no support, especially if the grandparents run a farm or have a job where they are all day.” A teacher in Puebla explained to me, “The mother is the head, the neck, and the body of a family. When they leave it’s not just the psychological part that gets affected. Grandmothers also lose their daughters and the whole family feels it. It’s serious.” Caregivers interviewed who did not know how to read and write felt ashamed. This study shows that caregivers were invested in the school life of children; they had immense pride and great aspirations for the children. However, many did not feel qualified to assist with homework, go to parent-teacher conferences, or demand better quality schooling.

  Caregivers interviewed reported some kind of difficulty intervening or trying to be part of school-related activities with their grandchildren in Mexico. I interviewed 31 caregivers and did extensive ethnographic work with eight of them. Of the 31, six had finished ninth grade, fifteen had gone as far second grade, four had completed fourth grade, and six had never been to school. Thus, the feeling of lack of confidence because of their backgrounds kept them at a distance from any formal education setting. Caregivers were firm and steady with teachings at home. Cleaning, cooking, feeding the animals, keeping oneself clean, and respecting the elderly were all part of the duties and knowledge they imparted to the children they cared for, and they executed this aspect of caregiving with great confidence. With the exception of Aruna and Clara, caregivers turned to the mothers for input in most school-related issues. There was a clear divide when the subject was formal education: “Eso es cosa de la mamá, yo ya no puedo ayudar con eso (this subject belongs to the mother, I can’t help with that).” Thus, these grandmothers could help their grandkids with comportment and social competence, but not with the formal aspects of schooling. It became clear to me that the perceived noble explanation for migration, which was tied to providing a better education, allowed all members of the constellation to “hang on” to this reality of transnational duty. Cecilia, a caregiver and grandmother, explained to me, “First, my daughter knows more than I do about school, second, that’s why she went to El Norte … it’s her responsibility and she pays for it.”

  On the other side, mothers in New York City had less involvement with decisions in school-related activities in New York City than in Mexico. I observed that this comparative lack of local involvem
ent, reported by 46 of the 60 women interviewed, was not because they cared less about their children born in the United States. Their hesitation had to do with how they understood their place in society.

  One afternoon in March, when I accompanied Emilia and her baby Alondra to the Herbalife office, 13 of the 60 mothers I had come to know were waiting for me patiently, chatting in the small office. When I walked in, Nancy screamed to the others: “She is here, let’s ask her.” I did not know what they wanted to ask me, but I saw all these women, some with their babies or toddlers next to them, holding papers in their hands and ready to talk to me. Nancy approached me first and asked me to read and translate a document from her son’s school. In the document, the Department of Education had denied her petition to transfer her child to another school. Anthony had been diagnosed as having special needs, and Nancy complained that he was being bullied in school and that the teachers did not provide him any support. She never spoke to anyone at the school; she reached out to a social worker who knew someone in the Department of Education who told her to submit some paperwork. When I asked Nancy why she didn’t go to the school and try to talk to the principal and teachers, she replied, “Because I don’t want to see anyone face to face … what if they mark me and target me after I complain and maybe even call the police … I can’t even understand English. I’ll be the clown.” Other women followed Nancy’s lead, asking me all kinds of questions: “Can my son join summer school?” “How do we get free lunches?” “Who do we call for free tutoring?” “Is there a way to transfer schools?” “My daughter is undocumented, can she get a GED?” “Can you come to a parent-teacher conference with me?” They knew I had accompanied other mothers to school, to the welfare government building, and to the housing management office; they were looking for a close resource. Needless to say, I was in the dark almost as much as they were, but I could find people to talk to them.

  Mothers may have appeared not to be as involved in their children’s education in New York City as they were with the children in Mexico, but the reason often had to do with fears related to not knowing the language, concerns about legal status, and general lack of confidence that they would be treated fairly. In parallel lives, caregivers and mothers saw their backgrounds and who they were as limitations to how much they could help children.

  The description of these parallel lives raises an important point for discussion: the contrast in what is valued in the two educational systems. In New York schools, teachers were very specific about the individual progress of each child. The emphasis was on school achievement and independence. They emphasized the acquisition of English. Test scores, after-school programs, and reading skills were at the top of their list when discussing the experiences of each New York–born child. In the case of Andrés in Mexico, teachers were more concerned with giving feedback regarding social and group interactions. There was very little discussion regarding achievement and performance, but more focus on the idea of educación.

  Communication

  All women interviewed used Internet and Communication Technology (ICT) to maintain relationships and non-school-related practices. ICTs can also be considered as solutions (though difficult ones) to the “cultural contradictions of migration and motherhood and the ‘accentuated ambivalence’ they engender” (Madianou, 2012: 278). This, in turn, has consequences for the whole experience of migration, sometimes even affecting decisions about settlement and return.

  The women in this study used ICT extensively to communicate with their children and impart ideas about educación. Mothers in New York City worried about how their own mothers (their children’s caregivers) were being treated. Brianna, Gemma, Violeta, Sara, Emilia, Camila, and even Aruna (who did not have a good relationship with her mother) constantly sent text messages or wrote notes on the online social network Facebook that read: “make sure you are helping your grandmother” or “show respect to your grandmother and do as she tells you.” Those messages got pushback from youth, especially children on the other side, who responded with emoticons to signal a rolling of the eyes or a happy face sticking its tongue out. Still, mothers often referred to their own experiences, “This is the woman that raised me! Show her respect” (Sara’s text to Agustín). The mothers also relied on ICT to help directly with schooling. Of the 60 women I interviewed, 20 reported using social media to help with homework.

  Within the 20 constellations where I dedicated most of my research time, I observed ten of them engaging with social networks or other communication vehicles to assist with homework.

  As described in a previous interlude, Aruna, a mother in the South Bronx, developed strategies to use ICT methods to get in touch with her daughters and help them with homework and school projects. It was with this argument that Clara, Aruna’s mother and her children’s caregiver, allowed Aruna to speak with her daughters. “If she is going to help them with homework, great! Because I don’t know how to … but I don’t want Aruna telling these poor girls she will be back, because she won’t.” Aruna used Facebook and different forms of instant messaging to communicate with her 10- and 12-year-old daughters in Mexico about homework. When I visited Clara and the girls for the first time in Mexico, I was not allowed to tell them Aruna was their mother or even say “I’m a friend of your mother.” Both Clara and Aruna asked me not to do that. Clara told me it was the best thing she could do for Elvira and Kaia. I agreed, since that was the condition for me to visit Aruna’s daughters. Despite this elaborate ruse, Aruna wanted to participate in her daughters’ schooling process. She constantly sent them books, pencils, pens, pencil cases, and backpacks with notes like: “for you to continue to do well in school.” She went on Facebook and wrote to her aunts and cousins, begging them to show her pictures on Facebook of Elvira and Kaia. She wrote her status on Facebook as “missing the rest of my family” or “sad not be home for my daughter’s birthday” and asked other family members to show those to her daughters. Her cousin Ana did show Elvira and Kaia Aruna’s posts and pictures of Aruna’s sons in New York City. Aruna constantly posted videos, cartoons with sayings, and motivational greetings for her daughters to stay in school and do well. She hoped that through social networks her mother Clara would not be able to keep her from her nenas (daughters).

  Aruna also wanted her three boys in New York to be close with their sisters in Mexico. Thus, every week Aruna set up Skype calls for homework help time where her two daughters in Mexico brought their questions and doubts about homework that week. Clara allowed that communication to take place. Aruna also made sure Carlito (age 6) and Kiki (age 4) taught the two girls some words in English. Aruna herself did not always understand the homework questions Elvira and Kaia had. When that happened, she used the Google search engine to find out how to respond to her daughters. During these sessions Aruna did not want to say, “I don’t know” to any of the questions her daughters had. ICTs facilitated a kind of interaction that would not have been possible in real time. Aruna also knew that as her daughters grew older there was a risk of them resenting Aruna because she had lied to them their whole lives. “I can’t have my daughters wake up one day and only have terrible memories about me … they need to know I support them in their opportunities and that I want them to succeed, even if I am far away.”

  Brianna, Gemma, and Camila also used Facebook to exchange motivational notes for school achievement. Stella, Camila’s 14-year-old daughter, took pictures of her homework and posted on her mother’s “Facebook wall.” Camila printed the pictures and glued them to her refrigerator, just as she did with her children in New York City. Through social networks, mothers received news much faster about school achievements and education experiences of their children on the other side.

  Conclusion

  Transnational care constellations are unique in a sense that separation exists, but the desire to maintain family ties through this system also exists, as illustrated by the case of the Osorio constellation. Part of the definition of transnational motherhood
is the idea women have of “being here and being there”—or not being here and not being there. Brianna, for example, operated outside this dichotomy, fully acknowledging her position within the care constellation and using her resources to fulfill her role of central decision-maker.

  I have argued that mothers were sometimes more successful engaging with the school “back home” than with the school in New York City. At local schools in New York City, the mothers in this study mentioned feeling fearful and disempowered due to language barriers and legal status. Furthermore, Hamann and Zúñiga (2011) have argued that expectations regarding the involvement of parents in schools in Mexico versus in the United States is very different. Parents in Mexico paint schools, build desks, make food for the students, and help with celebrations. In the United States, parents are supposed to be educators: they are supposed to read to children, teach them English, and supervise homework. Their roles are considered pivotal for children’s academic development. Mothers in the United States are expected to take on more pedagogical roles, and the mothers in this study often felt unprepared for that work.