WHEN I WAS INFORMED VIA A GROUP EMAIL WITH NEIGHBORS’ PUBLISHER AND CONTENT COORDINATOR THAT I'D BE WRITING ABOUT ENRIQUE SANCHEZ—PARKITE, COMMUNITY LEADER, AND LATINO ADVOCATE/ACTIVIST—FOR THEIR COVER FEATURE, DEB DEKOFF, THE ASSIGNED PHOTOGRAPHER (ALSO KNOWN TO ME AS MY YOUNGER SON'S ADVISORY TEACHER AT ECKER HILL MIDDLE SCHOOL) WROTE, “I'M SO THRILLED YOU'LL BE INTERVIEWING ENRIQUE!” CHIMING IN SHORTLY THEREAFTER WAS ENRIQUE HIMSELF: “WHAT AN AMAZING OPPORTUNITY. THANK YOU! I'M EXCITED!”
Despite the fact that I've lived in this small mountain town for almost five-and-a-half years, I'm always astounded by the six degrees (ha, more like below-zero!) of separation principle that manifests itself before me nearly every other day of the week, especially while being a writer for this fast-growing magazine and running a reading lounge through my family's nonprofit.
A week after we were introduced on email, I sent Enrique a message about a possible date for our interview. When he responded, I already felt enveloped by his congeniality. From the impressive information I'd gathered about him online, my emotions began to echo his: amazed, excited, and thankful for this opportunity.
Enrique suggested Park City Gardens as our meeting place. I remember purchasing succulents here for the lounge, wowed by the greenhouse, observing coffee drinkers at mosaic-tiled patio tables, reminiscent of a street scene in Paris or Prague. I also recall thinking, “Wait, where's a café?”
I'm surprised by the number of people waiting inside this quaint but too-tiny space on a late wintry Sunday morning in mid-November. I'm not accustomed to seeing any sort of non-ski-resort in Park City bustling, except for the recently opened Barnes & Noble at Newpark Town Center.
I arrived early, so I set my backpack onto a tall counter stool. I've done my research on Enrique, and he and I have connected on LinkedIn. He is the Intermountain State Director at American Business Immigration Coalition and, from what I've heard through the grapevine (by way of the aforementioned “below-zero degrees of separation”), Enrique grew up in Prospector Park. He also already has had the privilege of meeting two U.S. presidents.
I continue to eye the café's front door, which is blocked by a large group of youngish skiers. Enrique is only twenty-six years old, so I wonder if he's “lost in the crowd,” although I find it hard to believe that he'd personify both the literal and figurative meaning of this idiom.
Enrique Sanchez is a “Dreamer.” By the end of this story, you'll see that what he embodies is the traditional definition of a dreamer—not one who lives in a world of imagination and fantasy, but a visionary. DACA, Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, has protected approximately 835,000 immigrants who have been brought to the U.S. as minors and remain undocumented, and who also are known as Dreamers, a term that stems from the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors (DREAM) Act, legislation that would give immigrant youth legal status and a path to citizenship.
Enrique and I spot each other immediately as he walks in, navigating his way through the skiers. The diamond studs on both his pierced ears are just as sparkly as his smile, and his hair, akin to my younger son's, is stylishly slicked down, making me realize that my 11-year-old has been trying to look hip as of late. Enrique leans in for a hug, as if greeting an old friend.
While we wait for our beverages, I raise my eyebrows at the display behind the register and inquire about its contents. The cashier describes the scone, which is covered in white icing; she also offers the pumpkin chocolate chip loaf. I decide to get both for us to share.
Enrique and I are engaged in conversation from the get-go. I scan the area, noticing there aren't any seats available. Just as he suggests we look for a table in the greenhouse, I imagine us being transported to a café in atmospheric Europe.
“We were scolded for speaking Spanish in school because they couldn't understand what we were saying,” recounts Enrique, after sharing with me that he attended McPolin Elementary, where both of my sons enrolled when we first moved from San Francisco, primarily due to its Spanish Dual Language Immersion (DLI) model. Naturally, I'm confused about Enrique and his classmates being “scolded for speaking Spanish”—so that’s when he clarifies, “DLI didn't start until 2013 or 2014. The district would fly teachers in from Spain, then, over the years, they had a pool of teachers with bilingual qualifications.”
Enrique's first experience with Spanish-language instruction, outside his home, was at Ecker, where sixth-grade language-learning was divided among Spanish, French, and Mandarin.
Throughout the year. “In seventh (grade),” he explains, “you decided which language to pursue full-time and were assigned a specific teacher.”
Enrique chose French. “I wanted to challenge myself, although I still could understand French without knowing it, because it’s so close to Spanish.” So, from sixth grade to his final year at Park City High School (PCHS), he learned his third language, allowing him to participate in a student-exchange program through the city. Park City’s sister city, Courchevel, France, is where Enrique and one other student set out for a four-month-long adventure, 5,000 miles away from home.
“I wanted to get out of Utah,” recalls Enrique, “but I missed my family. If something happened, I couldn’t just come home for the weekend.” For another four months of his senior year, his family hosted a 15-year-old student from France. “That year was a rollercoaster,” Enrique says, chuckling. “She and I did everything together! It was such a huge growing experience.”
Also “huge” in his growth, Enrique emphasizes, was his involvement with Latinos in Action (LIA). Back in 2001, LIA had hosted its very first Youth Leadership Conference at Mountain View High School in Provo. After receiving its 501(c)(3) status, LIA began offering a program with a year-long elective course focusing on four pillars which, according to its website, are “leveraging personal and cultural assets, excelling in education, serving the community, and developing leadership skills.”
Enrique was president of LIA at PCHS, explaining the group was very much like student council. However, instead of for school, he says, “We planned events that would benefit the community, to engage and bring together different cultures.” Because of the organization's name, one might think the group welcomed only Latinos, but Enrique confirms the contrary. “That was the thing about LIA; it started for Latinos, but the requirements are just being bilingual, and not just in Spanish.”
Every Friday, Enrique continues to reminisce, Anna Williams would teach the LIA class. “Anna remains, to this day, my friend. I wouldn’t have gotten into college without her.” Enrique went on to attend the University of Utah, studying political science; he also received a degree from Salt Lake Community College in criminal justice. Deb, whose beautiful photos of Enrique accompany this story, had asked me to find out if Enrique was still planning to apply to law school.
“Ms. DeKoff is great! She was never my teacher, but her son and I played youth football together. Being able to meet all these kids the summer before middle school was so beneficial. I met students from other cultures; it was my first team experience.” Having participated in track and field before attending Ecker, Enrique enthusiastically adds, “Track is a team sport, but you're competing against yourself. In football, I learned all about my teammates and got to hang out with them! It was a community-builder for sure.”
The word “community,” while transcribing my interview with Enrique, predictably had come up at least 20 times. Community, community building, and community service—the third of which reminds me of what Rebeca Gonzalez, a sixth-grade Spanish DLI educator, shared with me about Latinos. Rebeca leads Ecker’s LIA group, whom I had the opportunity to speak to earlier this year. She had made clear to me, “We’re all about community service. I’ll make sure my students go to Lectura Lounge!”
Enrique laughs, recognizing yet another six degrees of separation—from Deb, now to Rebeca, who taught my older son at Ecker and currently is my younger son’s Spanish language arts teacher and who also sat next to me while we reviewed grant applications for Park City.
Read the rest of Enrique's story in the January issue of Neighbors of Park City at this link.
Enrique is a graduate of Park City High School, and was President of Latinos in Action (LIA). LIA is supported by PCEF donors as a Classroom Grant.
