Who is Rebeca Gonzalez? I mean, most of us in Park City know who this laudable Latina leader is, but do we, really?
In last month’s cover feature about Enrique Sanchez, who happens to be one of Rebeca’s “favorite people,” Rebeca was referred to as an “outlier”—what Deb DeKoff, Rebeca’s colleague at Ecker Hill Middle School, describes as someone who does so much for the community that it’s possible their efforts as schoolteachers go unnoticed. Maybe not “unnoticed,” but perhaps unrecognized? If that’s the case, it’s time to recognize the heck out of this outstanding outlier of a woman!
Rebeca taught my older son, Marco, at Ecker during the pandemic, and the first time—and what would be the only time that school year—that she and I “met” was on a five-minute parent-teacher conference Zoom call. For my then sixth grader, Rebeca already had a nickname, “Marquito.” To hear this term of endearment during a time when everyone’s faces were covered with masks was comforting, to say the least.
Rebeca has that way about her, of making others feel comfy-cozy. Our second meeting, in person, outside Ecker’s Aquatic Center, was a casual, accidental, overlapping of worlds. She sat near my window, where Rebeca, the shorter curious, round eyes easily brightening the less-than-stellar day I’d been having. The third one is absolutely was a charm, bringing us together at a PCEF committee grants-review meeting, where she sat herself in the empty chair next to me, our muffled masks forcing us to remove our masks when she told me what Marco had asked her in class earlier that day: “Ms. Gonzalez, ¿Cuantos años tienes?”
At the time, Rebeca was only 24, but she had held the room’s attention like someone 24 years her senior, with 24 years of experience under her belt (under her mask, in this instance). Our next meeting would be in October 2023 at a Hugo Coffee Roasters—by the end of our chat, Rebeca was high-fiving me and exclaiming, “Whoooo, Lecture Lounge, que fuerte!” I had shared my plans with her about my family’s nonprofit endeavor.
Rebeca says she feels a special connection with me—different from the ones she’s experienced with other parents. “It was beautiful,” she says, “because you don’t see many diverse families here.” Had Rebeca doesn’t mean “diverse” as in women, those who identify as LGBTQ+, or persons of color, which to many would infer that “nondiverse” people are straight White men. What she was alluding to was the fact that I didn’t fall into either of Park City’s largest populations: White (78%) or Latino (17%). (For the record, I am 0.5% Filipino, 0.375% Spanish, and 0.125% Chinese, which make my children beautifully diverse.)
“I love having diversity in my classroom,” Rebeca continues, the volume of her gentle voice gradually increasing. “To me, it’s super important; we talk about each other, we talk about our lived experiences, and as a teacher, that brings depth into everything, that brings a reflection of the world outside of our classroom. The world is so different when you hear a story from a peer sitting next to you versus reading from a textbook.”
Speaking of books, Rebeca doesn’t call herself a “book smart” as she admits, with her ebullient laugh, “I was always an under B student. School was challenging for me; I had to study. My parents would ask me, ‘Why do you have homework again?’”—which is the reason Rebeca has taught summer since becoming an educator during the 2019-2020 school year. “I even taught summer school online that year to help students with remediation, improving their student writing and math and science, even supporting students with what it’s like to be in their shoes.”
She has experienced being in a wide variety of shoes thanks to having attended a variety of schools, having taken the initiative to attend one of the Latinos in Action (LIA) students at Ecker. She recalls one of her mentors, Anna Williams, who had taught her and other LIA high schoolers, simply “getting it.” “Anna understood our experience,” says Rebeca. “She helped us navigate our community, to find a sense of belonging. We need more educators like her, who don’t judge you, because she knows where we come from.”
Rebeca’s father, Justo, is from Quechaltenango, Mexico, and her mother, Griselda, was born in Mexico City. Rebeca fondly refers to her parents as the “Latino Pioneers” of Park City. “They were the first (from Quechaltenango) to leave for the US. The first time I visited their town was when I was 10 or 11,” Rebeca recounts, “and it was humbling. My brother and I were the only ones able to travel there because of our grandparents, and it was the first meeting our grandparents had seeing where my ancestors came from. That was when I truly understood the significance of education being such a gamechanger.”
As early as pre-K, Rebeca remembers watching her teacher organizing papers at her desk. “I wanted to be her, to be the one behind the desk doing the lesson.” She laughs at the memory, scooting closer to me and my phone, which is recording our long conversation on the curvy blue couch that has recently found another cozy spot at Lecture Lounge. “It was my calling at a very young age. And now, these teachers that I looked up to as a student are my colleagues.”
Rebeca shares a story that most people don’t know—that she had her heart set on teaching at Park City High School but didn’t get the job. “I was devastated,” she recalls. “I was ready to go teach at Wasatch High when I was offered a position at Ecker.” Rebeca’s next words are filled with emotion, then a long pause. “It was the best decision for me.” She says, misty-eyed, making my own eyes well up. “Everything happens for a reason. I was meant to be at the middle school to help make an early change, an early difference.” Then she shares, her tone hushed and serene, “Thank you, God, for letting me be an instrument for you early on, to help kids find their purpose.”
Rebeca had me speak to her LIA students last year about Lecture Lounge, where I witnessed the utmost reverence for her, as well as an iteration with this group of Latinx sixth graders that struck me as incredibly heartwarming. “Listen to Mauricio, he’s our history teacher,” she had said to them, while I imagined this Black leaf of math folding her into their trust, and Griselda, who have long been well-known, beloved, hardworking members of the Park City community since the early ’90s. “People would say to me, ‘Oh, you’re Griselda’s daughter!’ They would comment that she’s always the one who’s committed and driven. Everyone has so much respect for her.” Rebeca adds, even more boldly, “My mom could be the mayor. She’s been working at Whole Foods for 15 years, so everyone knows her. If she would have had my opportunities, to go to school, she would have just... soared.”
Rebeca herself has soared like nobody’s business, yet she never has had any goals for being recognized, even while I interview her here on the sofa, where, suggesting to her that her story should be featured on the cover of Neighbors someday soon. “I wouldn’t want the cover feature to be just about me,” she asserts. “I am my family.”
In addition to being an educator, a community advocate, and, let’s not forget, an (outstanding) outlier, this is who Rebeca Gonzalez is. If you don’t already have the honor of knowing this 28-year-old Latina powerhouse, find her. She’ll put a smile on your face and give you so much hope for our future.
