1. UC Prompt 2
One late afternoon in Tacubaya, an area on the outskirts of Mexico City, my father and I
packed up our marketplace merchandise after a long day. My father promised that we would
celebrate our success at the Taqueria after we stored our wares. I sat by the sidewall, waiting for
my father to return from the warehouse. The cold breeze brushed my nine-year-old limbs as
night fell upon the city. Two hours later, cold and tired, I went to look for him. I pounded on the
warehouse door, but there was no answer. I stood in front of the old building, frustrated and
hungry and yelled “Papa!” Finally, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I smiled in relief
when my father opened the door, but when I saw the cards in his hand, I knew that he was
drinking and gambling with other vendors, and my smile faded.
When the clock struck midnight, I still stood next to my father in the smoky den,
watching and waiting. He was intoxicated; he was losing. My father won a few games because I
nudged his shoulder and whispered to him so that he didn’t overlook his winning cards. One of
the three players hissed at me “Deja de hablarle a tu papá porque estos juegos son de más de mil
pesos. Entendiste?” I understood that he didn’t want me to help my father because there was a lot
of money in the pot. My father only took a long sip from his Corona and looked at me; his left
eye barely opened when he whispered “Erick, go to sleep now; I’ll wake you when I’m ready.”
At 3:00 am, I lay on flattened cardboard boxes in a corner of the warehouse. My stomach
growled, but I knew falling sleep would help me forget about its emptiness. When my father
finally ended his night, still intoxicated, he carried me four blocks before he put me down on a
stony wall. Tears filled his eyes. His gold necklace and bracelet were missing. I knew that he had
lost badly; I had never seen my father so defeated. In an effort to cheer him up, I offered to buy
tacos for breakfast with the money that I had saved from work. We walked to the street market,
where we ate at a food stand and there my father said to me, “Erick I promise I’m going to

2. UC Prompt 2
change.” It was a quarter after eight—fifteen hours after he had begun his binge. Unfortunately,
my father has not kept his promise to conquer the adversity in his life, but I learned a lot about
him, my life, and my future that night.
After my mother left us to go to The United States, my father played the roles of a father
and a mother for my brothers and me. I looked up to him the way sons do, and when I was
young, I wanted to be like him, to be a street vendor. That particular night in my father’s world
helped me to understand his behavior, his addictions, and his struggle to take care of my two
brothers and me. At that moment, I realized that I had to find a way out of poverty; of course, I
was not yet mature enough to see the way to my salvation, and I wouldn’t be until after I had
moved to the US to live with my mother. It was when I read Francisco Jiménez’s The Circuit as
a freshman in high school that I was struck with an epiphany. I understood that education is a
way for me to better myself and improve my chances in life. Even though learning English was a
formidable obstacle, The Circuit stirred me to confront and overcome challenges in my life. Both
the experience of my father’s painful world and the words of Francisco Jimenez motivate me to
move forward and pursue a better life through education. Now, there is nothing else that I want
more than to earn a college diploma and become a teacher, to inspire other young people to find
the best in themselves.