Tonatiuh, D. (2013). Pancho Rabbit and the coyote: A migrant's tale. New York: Abrams Books for Young Readers.
When a migrant worker leaves to find work, he leaves his
family exposed and in danger. A quite interesting account of the hardships that
migrant workers go through in order to provide for their families. When
Pancho’s father doesn’t return from up north, Pancho panics and decides to go
on a journey to bring his father back, he encounters more than he bargained
for. Will the eminent danger for Pancho prevent him from reuniting with his
father? How important is family and how necessary is it for a family to be broken
up in order for the father to provide for his family?
As a migrant, I know the struggle. Back when we lived in México, my dad was the only one who was legal and obviously the only one that could work in the USA. He used to leave in May, go to Minnesota, and go back to Piedras Negras in either mid September or October. Because he was a teacher, he had to get a pass. The time he spent away from my family was agonizing. I remember our next door neighbor would sit outside in her porch and would ask me to keep her company. One evening I saw a man with a beard being dropped off in the corner of the street. Doña Lupita told me, "Look Josie, your dad is back!" At my four years of age, I said, "No, ese no es mi papá!" That is not my dad! I ran home and waited to tell my mom that a man that looked like my dad was coming. When he walked in I ran to his arms and buried my head in his neck and began crying. Life sucks without the presence of your dad. I know Rabbit's struggle. I know how much a father is missed. And granted the reason migrant fathers leave is to work, but somehow, within your heart there is still some sort of resentment. My mother was strong for us, and I still had my siblings, but for most part, the least favorite part of my childhood were the summer months I spent away from my dad.
As a migrant, I know the struggle. Back when we lived in México, my dad was the only one who was legal and obviously the only one that could work in the USA. He used to leave in May, go to Minnesota, and go back to Piedras Negras in either mid September or October. Because he was a teacher, he had to get a pass. The time he spent away from my family was agonizing. I remember our next door neighbor would sit outside in her porch and would ask me to keep her company. One evening I saw a man with a beard being dropped off in the corner of the street. Doña Lupita told me, "Look Josie, your dad is back!" At my four years of age, I said, "No, ese no es mi papá!" That is not my dad! I ran home and waited to tell my mom that a man that looked like my dad was coming. When he walked in I ran to his arms and buried my head in his neck and began crying. Life sucks without the presence of your dad. I know Rabbit's struggle. I know how much a father is missed. And granted the reason migrant fathers leave is to work, but somehow, within your heart there is still some sort of resentment. My mother was strong for us, and I still had my siblings, but for most part, the least favorite part of my childhood were the summer months I spent away from my dad.
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