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 Dr. Cassandra Villa’s educational journey began not in a classroom, but in one conversation with her father at the family kitchen table. At just five years old, the day before kindergarten, her father sat her down and spoke words that would shape her life: “You’re a woman, you’re brown, and we don’t have a lot of money. So you need to work three times as hard. Your education is everything…everything.” With no preschool experience, Cassandra entered kindergarten with a mission. Her parents, Jenny and Robert Villa, were her first teachers. Both parents lacked formal education as her father was pushed out of school in tenth grade and her mother was reading at third grade level. And yet, they instilled in her a deep reverence for learning. Growing up in Pacoima, a community rich in culture and grit, Cassandra learned to navigate life with awareness and determination. Her parents taught her to never quit, to be a go-getter, and to know her surroundings. As the youngest of four daughters, she carried the legacy of her family’s strength and sacrifice. Education was not just a path to success. It was a means of survival, liberation, and dignity. In fourth grade, Cassandra was asked by her mother to help write a letter to the welfare office to say they no longer needed food stamps. Her mother’s gray spellchecker, once a source of childhood embarrassment every time she pulled it out of her purse to learn every word she didn’t understand, became a symbol of courage and resourcefulness. By third grade, Cassandra began to notice the differences from her classmates. While her classmates were just learning multiplication and handwriting, she had already mastered them, since her parents had rigorous expectations at home. Her teacher, Miss Moreno, saw something special in Cassandra and advocated for her to be tested for GATE (Gifted and Talented Education). That single act changed Cassandra’s trajectory. She transferred to a magnet school, where she encountered peers from vastly different backgrounds, many with parents who were doctors, lawyers, and college graduates. The contrast was stark. Cassandra found herself in a competitive academic environment that demanded even more of her. But she rose to the challenge. Her early awareness of social and economic disparities sharpened her resolve. Despite the pressure, Cassandra found joy in learning. Her love of words blossomed through books, word searches, Wheel of Fortune, and even neighborhood games of Lotería. She initially dreamed of becoming a medical doctor since she attended a medical magnet high school that had students participating in hospital rotations. And while her diligence and focus earned her a place in college, her medical pursuit changed when she met a Chicana English professor, Dr. Tiffany Ana Lopez, who introduced her to literature that reflected her own identity. It was a revelation. She changed her program to a double major in English and sociology, captivated by stories from Chicana, Black, and Indigenous voices. “I became so curious about how literature could be used as a social document and how this document works in society.” College also became a place of grief and healing. During her undergraduate years, Cassandra’s mother was diagnosed with stage four cancer. While her mother was undergoing chemo treatment, Cassandra was applying to the University of Southern California, the only graduate school program she applied to. “I didn’t have time, money, or emotional capacity to apply to more graduate programs. I remember my mother resting on my lap while I was completing my application.”  Cassandra’s mother passed away before she graduated with her bachelor degree. The loss was devastating. She stopped attending classes, questioning the very purpose of her academic journey. But one professor, Dr. Tiffany Lopez, whom Cassandra calls her “academic mother” stepped in. She advocated for Cassandra with other faculty, attended her mother’s funeral, and was the first to hug her while Cassandra was mourning. It was mentors like her professor that provided space for another turning point. Instead of education being a responsibility and a path to liberation, it became “a spiritual anchor,” as Cassandra described. In the darkest moments of her life, Cassandra was accepted into USC’s Master of Arts Teaching Program with nearly full financial support through the Leo Buscaglia Memorial Scholarship. Her experience as a teacher started with her first student-teaching placement in South Central Los Angeles. Cassandra’s students taught her what it truly meant to be culturally responsive and ensure that students are seen, heard, and cared for. Her teaching experience and her mentor, Dr. Carl Cohn, a legendary superintendent and educator at the time, launched her into enrolling in a PhD program at Claremont Graduate University. At just 25, Cassandra was one of the youngest in her cohort. Her doctoral journey ran parallel to a personal one filled with heartbreak. Her father, grieving the loss of his lifelong partner, struggled with depression and relapsed into addiction. Cassandra found herself living two lives. By day, a scholar and educator. By night, searching for her father in alleys and parks, trying to bring him home. Her faith became her north star. Recently baptized, Cassandra described the experience as one of deep peace and clarity, surrounded by her father and family, who witnessed a moment filled with healing and hope. Today, Dr. Cassandra Villa is a professor, curriculum developer, trainer, facilitator, and speaker. Her work on cultural proficiency, equity, and culturally responsive practices expands across the educational ecosystem, from students to superintendents, and everyone in between. In her ethnic studies classroom, Dr. Villa helps students see themselves in it. From the Delano Grape Strikes to Mendez v. Westminster, from Malcolm X and Yuri Kochiyama to the Black Panthers’ blueprint for community care, Dr. Villa connects past movements to present realities. Her students explore immigration, identity, and intersectionality through contemporary figures like Bad Bunny, and they engage in community circles, family interviews, and project-based learning rooted in their own neighborhoods. The result? Healing. Belonging. Empowerment.  For the adults who resist ethnic studies, Dr. Villa has one request before making an opinion: “Please take a course. Please do your reading. Because ethnic studies isn’t about division. In fact, it’s completely opposite of that. Ethnic studies is about understanding, solidarity, and the restoration of humanity.” That’s why every one of her students, from different ways of life, have embraced their learning with open minds and hearts. Looking ahead, Dr. Villa’s vision is clear. Her mission is to spread liberation through education, just as her father taught her when she was five. She opens doors for others, speaks names in rooms where every student can resonate, and plants seeds that will eventually change the educational ecosystem for good. Her next chapter includes writing her first children’s book, Go Mija Go, a tribute to her family’s legacy and resilience. Her father and mother, and even the spirit of her grandmother who picked onions in the fields of Newhall, California, will be in its pages. In all the projects coming up that Dr. Cassandra Villa engages in, she will call people in, not out. For her, the work is not performative, it’s personal. “It’s the car iño, the care, that makes the impact of my work real.” ∎
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