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There was a moment in middle school when everything went quiet. The entire student body sat in assembly as student names were called for the end-of-year academic scholar acknowledgements. One student was expected. The second was not. When his name was announced - “Ricardo Araiza” - there was a brief, but heavy moment of silence. Hesitation, confusion, even disbelief filled the assembly hall. Ricardo stunned himself, slowly stood. For much of his young life, Ricardo had been seen differently. Born in the United States, he spent his early school years moving between countries, first in American classrooms, then in the public school system of Tijuana, Mexico, after his family relocated out of financial necessity. When he returned to the U.S. in sixth grade, not only did he have to navigate through a new academic transition; he also had to carry the visible and invisible complexities of identity being a bilingual learner, a young person living with hearing loss shown clearly by his right ear deformity, and a student with a pronounced speech stutter. In seventh grade, multiple surgeries on his right ear left him wearing a white patch secured by a blue band across his head for months. It drew attention he didn’t ask for. “In middle school, when you’re just trying to figure out who you are, that made everything more visible,” Ricardo recalls. Teasing was daily, and isolation followed at times. Despite the difficult experience, something became far more powerful. Teachers noticed him. Ricardo wasn’t the loudest voice in the room. He was the most persistent and consistent in his learning experience. Teachers noticed his unmistakable drive. That unexpected moment in the assembly, being named Scholar Athlete of the Year, became a turning point for Ricardo. “I didn’t realize people were seeing me that way,” he says, “They saw something I hadn’t yet fully seen in myself until that moment.” His educational path was anything but traditional. In Mexico, Ricardo completed elementary school but was denied a diploma because he wasn’t a citizen, which became a moment that introduced him early to the realities of systems and belonging. Back in the U.S., he struggled with English while excelling in math. He navigated school without the guidance many students take for granted. As an English learner, he wasn’t steered toward honors or advanced placement early on. In fact, he later learned that students who looked like him were often directed away from college altogether. With parents who didn’t exceed elementary school education, Ricardo couldn’t rely on them to advocate on his behalf at a young age. A middle school math teacher, Mr. Chavez, recognized his aptitude and planted a seed: You could be good at this. Years later, in high school, Ms. Osborn did something even more transformative by showing him how to get to college, how to apply, what to do next, and most importantly, what was possible. “If it wasn’t for her,” Ricardo reflects, “I probably wouldn’t have gone to college.” At the University of San Diego, he entered a new world without a roadmap. His parents believed deeply in education, but they couldn’t guide the process. What they gave instead was unwavering support. He explored different paths from pre-med to engineering, before something clicked. “I didn’t want to be behind a computer or in a hospital,” Ricardo explains, “I wanted to work with people.” Teaching became personal. Ricardo wanted to become the person he once needed, someone students could see themselves in. As a bilingual educator, a leader with similar lived experience, and proof that their circumstances did not define their potential, Ricardo knew that he could teach young people what was possible for them. However, he also understood that to make a sustainable impact for students, he would have to go to the next level. As a principal, and now as an English Learner Program Coordinator for Palm Springs Unified School District, Ricardo’s influence expanded beyond a single classroom to entire systems by supporting teachers, guiding principals, and shaping programs that affect thousands of students. With assertiveness, advocacy, and justice, Ricardo’s leadership is rooted in a clear conviction that every decision must protect students, especially when it’s difficult. “Holding other teachers and leaders accountable to how we treat and protect students can lead to uncomfortable conversations and conflict. However, I know that if I don’t do anything just to avoid discomfort, I am approving behavior that harms students.” Today, Ricardo’s work centers on supporting multilingual learners, students whose experiences mirror his own. “I am an English learner,” he says. “Who better to advocate than someone who has lived it?” His philosophy is both deeply personal and urgently relevant. Ricardo believes that a student’s zip code, native language, or physical differences should never determine their intellectual potential. Although he knows those biases exist in current systems, he remains a beacon of challenging those biases. He raises awareness that every student arrives with limitless capacity. Ricardo hasn’t forgotten the boy sitting in that middle school assembly who arrived feeling overlooked, and left feeling seen. “My growth has never been alone. At every stage, there were people - teachers, mentors, leaders - who offered guidance, belief, and opportunity. My mission is to be that someone to students.” ∎
To learn more about Dr. Ricardo Araiza: [email protected]
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