Grandparents have an endearing position of high stature in Mexican culture. Grandchildren have countless stories about the cariño (endearment) they receive from Abuelito (Grandpa) and Abuelita (Grandma). My immigrant grandparents sacrificed a lot when they migrated to the United States. Their courageous journeys and perseverance to attain the American dream left an invaluable mark on me. My abuelito’s journey to the United States initially on the Bracero Program led me to conduct research on the program. The Bracero Program was a binational labor agreement between the United States and Mexico that was in effect from 1942 to 1964. It was established due to the labor shortage brought about by World War II. Thousands of Mexican men were recruited and joined the program to work primarily in agriculture in states like California.

It was my abuelito’s cariño, work ethic, and courage as an immigrant that I have never forgotten. My abuelito worked in the highlands of Jalisco, Mexico, where his skilled farm labor contributed to making the highlands of Jalisco productive for the cultivation of agave. Thousands of the region’s men—including my abuelito—joined the Bracero Program and left Mexico for the United States. Once in the United States, they worked in the agricultural industry and transformed it into the multibillion-dollar business that it is today.

In my research, I have had the chance to interview members of the family of Rafael Silva, who was also a bracero from Jalisco. One of his grandsons, Isa Silva, will be entering Stanford next fall as a recruit for the Stanford Men’s Basketball team. I recently had the chance to talk with Isa and reflect upon the legacy of his abuelito and mine. The work that they performed was brutal, often working with the short-handled hoe for long periods. Reflecting on his abuelito’s contribution to making the Salinas Valley into the “Salad Bowl of the World,” Isa noted, “My grandparents’ immigrant journey and hard work means everything to me. It’s one thing that motivates me and inspires me. I respect the generations before me and am forever grateful for their sacrifices. Because of my grandparents and parents, I work hard in the classroom and it has taught me to give back.”

After the Bracero Program formally ended in 1964, agricultural executives sponsored thousands of braceros like Rafael Silva to stay in California. Not only had the braceros’ lives been transformed from rural poverty in Mexico to making working-class earnings, but their hard work would also eventually transform the lives of their children and grandchildren like Isa. Considered the “Ellis Island” for many Mexican immigrants, the U.S.–Mexico border became an important migration corridor for thousands wanting to find work in the agricultural fields in places like the Salinas Valley. For many young braceros, their earnings provided them with the hope of one day marrying and starting a family. For Rafael Silva, that hope became a reality when he married Eva Silva Ruelas and they settled near the U.S.–Mexico border in San Luis, Sonora, Mexico. While Rafael worked in the agricultural fields in Arizona, Eva and her young children resided in San Luis. Eventually they were able to move together to the Salinas Valley where Rafael continued working in the agricultural fields and Eva worked at the Matsui Nursery, a company founded by Andy Matsui, an immigrant from Japan.

My research has uncovered numerous stories of braceros like Rafael Silva overcoming poverty. Among children and grandchildren of braceros are professors at U.C. Berkeley and Stanford, members of the U.S. Congress and California legislature, as well as successful entrepreneurs, attorneys, educators, physicians, and a former NASA astronaut. Despite these successes, braceros themselves have received little recognition. With this in mind, I decided to organize an event with SPICE to honor braceros, with hopes that it would also make an indelible impression on a Mexican American generation whose bracero fathers or grandfathers had made major contributions to the U.S. economy. They, too, were part of America’s “Greatest Generation.”

On February 26, 2014, ten former braceros and their families were invited to an event at Encina Hall at Stanford. The invitees included Rafael Silva and Eva Silva Ruelas. Former FSI Director Mariano Florentino Cuellar, who is currently a California Supreme Court Justice, spoke along with Stanford Biology Professor Rodolfo Dirzo and me. SPICE Director Gary Mukai moderated the event and spoke about his youth as a farm laborer working with braceros. The evening was historic in that it was one of only a few times that former agricultural workers were recognized at a university. In the photo, I am standing next to my abuelito, José Guadalupe Rodriguez Fonseca, top left. Isa’s abuelito, Rafael Silva, is in the front center.

What else stood out that evening was the Silva grandchildren’s palpable love for their grandparents. One photo of the evening captures the Silva family legacy. Rafael (wearing a Stanford sweatshirt) and Eva Silva are in the middle with six of their children and numerous grandchildren surrounding them. Isa is standing in front of his grandfather. Three of their grandchildren are currently attending Stanford, with Isa soon to become the fourth. Reminiscing about the event, Isa noted, “I was a ten-year-old boy. It was cool to see the whole family get together and be there. We were there to support my abuelito and recognize all his hard work. It was great to see him honored for what he did so long ago. As we grow older, we appreciate him more and more.” Isa knows that his abuelito and abuelita’s journey is what transformed the Silva family and made his own American dream possible. Reflecting that pride in his family’s story, Isa closed our conversation by saying, “On and off the court, I will always represent being Mexican American.”

Just over ten years after becoming the first U.S. ambassador to Japan to participate in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony in 2010, Ambassador John Roos spoke about his experiences with 26 high school students in Stanford e-Japan from throughout Japan. In his October 16, 2020 online talk, Ambassador John Roos noted that his tenure in Japan—2009 to 2013—was defined by three major issues: (1) the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake or 3/11; (2) Operation Tomodachi (“friend” in Japanese) during which the U.S. Armed Forces helped in disaster relief following the 3/11 crisis; and (3) the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony on August 6, 2010.

Regarding the first and second issues, Ambassador Roos recalled, “I was proud that the United States was there to help the people in Japan who obviously faced one of the biggest crises in your history… Vice President Biden came to Japan and the two of us traveled up to the Tohoku region because he wanted to see firsthand how he could help and how the United States could help, and I saw him interacting with not only the leaders but the people of the Tohoku region.” In addition to Operation Tomodachi, the youth-focused Tomodachi Initiative—a public-private partnership between the U.S.-Japan Council and the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo, with support from the Government of Japan—was born out of support for Japan’s recovery from the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake. Regarding the third issue, Ambassador Roos shared, “I was the first United States ambassador to go to the Hiroshima commemoration ceremony. And I did that because I felt it was important to show respect for all of the victims of World War II and particularly obviously the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I did it because I felt that it was helping to promote President Obama’s agenda of the elimination of all nuclear weapons.”

During his talk, Ambassador Roos coupled his sharing of specific personal recollections with general insights on being the U.S. ambassador to Japan. For example, he explained that the role of the U.S. ambassador to Japan is twofold. First, the U.S. ambassador’s responsibility is to protect and look after the health and safety of the Americans that live in Japan—about 150,000 of them—including another 50,000 U.S. military personnel and their dependents. Second, nurturing and looking after the relationship between Japan and the United States, of course, is critical. He not only touched upon economic, political, and security relations but also emphasized the importance of student-to-student exchange. Concerning the latter, he is concerned that students from the United States are not spending enough time in Japan, and students in Japan are not spending enough time in the United States.

His insights profoundly connected to a student from Kyoto who commented, “When I am older, I hope to become a diplomat and maybe even an ambassador, so I’m really excited to get to talk to you today.” She continued, “What do you think makes a successful ambassador?” Ambassador Roos replied, “I hope you become the ambassador to the United States… Obviously, an ambassador needs to deal with all of the different policy issues and many difficult issues, but I think the most important thing is—and you may not expect this—but it is to listen… and to learn and to hear all sides of the equation… to show empathy.”

The current fall 2020 session of Stanford e-Japan is the 12th offering of the course since 2015. Stanford e-Japan is made possible by Mr. Tadashi Yanai, Chairman, President, and CEO of Fast Retailing Co., Ltd. Mr. Yanai and Ambassador Roos share a mutual concern for the need for students in Japan and the United States to spend more time in each other’s countries.

As a closing question, Stanford e-Japan Instructor Meiko Kotani asked Ambassador Roos what he expects from Japanese high school students and what role he thinks they should play to foster the U.S.–Japan relationship. Roos responded, “Well, first of all, let me tell you how impressed I am by this group of students. The reason I am doing this session at 9:00pm on a Friday night is because I think you are the future of the relationship. So I encourage you to find ways to connect with the younger generation of [the United States] because in the end, we need you. We need the best and brightest minds, not only in the United States but in Japan and the rest of the world to confront some pretty big challenges we have in the world right now… When I listen to you, it gives me a tremendous amount of hope, and so I’m just honored to have had the opportunity to talk with you.”

After Ambassador Roos signed off, the students shared some points that especially resonated with them. Among these were the deep respect that Ambassador Roos has for Japan and his visit to all 47 prefectures; the importance he placed upon the need for high school students in Japan to communicate with high school students in the United States; the importance he placed upon the leadership of the United States to be humble despite its power; and the importance of empathy. And since 2020 marks the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, the following words that Roos stated seemed to especially resonate with the students: “President Obama said that we may not eliminate nuclear weapons in his lifetime or my lifetime. I hope in your lifetime.”

As schools across the U.S. began to close due to COVID-19 in mid-March, I was in the unique position of transitioning into online classes while already having had some experience taking fully online classes. The year before, I had completed SPICE’s Reischauer Scholars Program (RSP), an intensive online course focusing on Japanese culture, history, and U.S.–Japan relations; participating in the Sejong Korea Scholars Program (SKSP), an equivalent program, I thought, would be a similar experience.

Yet, being part of the SKSP in the midst of a pandemic framed the way I participated in and learned from the class. As the course went on, we began each Virtual Classroom with a brief discussion on COVID-19, talking amongst ourselves how we were personally doing, and how Korea was handling it as compared to the U.S. We were encouraged to read local news in Korea to learn about COVID-19, and we brought our learnings to each discussion with renewed vigor. There’s a strange and harrowing feeling you get when analyzing the course of a virus in your home country and across the Pacific—an implicit understanding that this isn’t just a research text to pore over, but an unprecedented moment in history we’re living through. 

But back to the beginning. After participating in the RSP, I realized how essential it is to analyze stories from all facets.

RSP first introduced me to the concept that “history is told from the winner’s perspective,” and SKSP gave me the opportunity to delve deeply into that. I became intrigued with how history is taught and wanted to understand the “other” sides of stories I learned about in my textbooks. Weeks later, when we learned about the Japanese exploitation of Korean comfort women during World War II, I knew that learning about these issues from one side would simply not be enough to fully comprehend parts of history such as these. The way I learn history directly impacts how I view society and the relationships between groups of people.

Hence, each of the modules helped me craft a multifaceted perspective of Korea and U.S.–Korea relations. The lessons and lectures allowed me to understand and re-interpret modern and historical issues in a global context. From Shamanism’s evolving role in Korean society, to Japanese colonial rule in Korea, to the social impacts of the Miracle on the Han River, to class and socioeconomic strata in Korean education systems, I dove into a plethora of topics through readings, lectures, and class discussions. As a high school student, I never believed I would have the honor of learning from distinguished scholars and experts, but SKSP introduced me to a variety of academics with clear passions for Korean history and culture. My learning extended beyond lectures: in discussion boards, I learned from my classmates, who shared their diverse perspectives and experiences and fostered an inclusive and challenging learning environment. We were given the chance to analyze material on our own through readings and assignments, but it was in these virtual interactions with my peers that I discovered the most. The open and constructive group that Dr. Jang and Mr. Edman facilitated was one where we could respectfully engage with one another on any topic while acknowledging at the end of the day the friendships and bonds we’d made. Thus, I paired my self-led education from SPICE with that of my public schooling and constructed a greater comprehensive understanding of the world.  

However, it was the Korean War and North Korea units that I believe played the greatest role in not only my intellectual development, but also my personal and political growth. These two units coalesced in my final research paper project, in which I wrote about the critical role of student activism in South Korean democratization. During my research and readings, I analyzed how the March First Movement set the stage for South Korean protest culture and democratization. I recognized that of the two factions of activists post March First, I might have been in the more radical faction, the one that ended up becoming North Korea. This realization, combined with the readings and lectures from the North Korea unit, completely changed my view of geopolitics in Korea. I learned about the U.S.’s role in the Korean War, and subsequently the Western portrayal of North Korea as a rogue, renegade state. I wondered, how much are we to speak about propaganda when students like me are taught lessons that shield Western imperialism with saviorism and American exceptionalism?

SKSP is not simply a fleeting online course with a broad overview of Korea, but an unparalleled opportunity to uncover Korea on an academic level few other high school students have. I hadn’t expected to undergo a personal and political reckoning within myself, but it is because of this growth that I am beyond grateful for SKSP, Dr. Jang and Mr. Edman’s instruction and advising, and all of my peers’ questions and discussions. Since then, I haven’t ceased to continue kindling my interest in Korean history and politics, questioning previously held beliefs, and broadening my worldview. And it is especially during a time like this—a global movement of Black Lives Matter, a local movement to change my high school’s Indigenous emblem, and everything in between, all within the context of a pandemic—that it is so crucial for me to critically analyze what I’ve been taught, and to keep learning as much as I can. In SKSP, I’ve developed the skills necessary to do so. It’s the “other sides” of stories, namely non-Western and non-white, that I am committed to studying, since understanding the nuances of the past can help guide us into a more equitable future.

Next fall, I begin at Stanford, hopefully on campus—it feels like coming full circle, having the privilege to attend college in an institution that first allowed me to foster a genuine love for learning. Now, while many of my friends begin their college careers, I have chosen to take a gap year with the U.S. Department of State’s National Security Language Initiative for Youth (NSLI-Y), a rigorous and competitive academic scholarship to study a critical language abroad. As of August, the in-country program has been pushed back to 2021 due to COVID-19, but I hope to find myself in Seoul in a few months. With everything ahead of me, I know SKSP is only the beginning, as I hope to continue bridging my education to the world.