STUDENT MARCHERS MADE A DIFFERENCE–BUT ONLY TIME WILL TELL WHAT KIND

[EDITOR’S NOTE: On Monday, 56 students from Cal State University/Dominguez Hills (CSUDH) rode a bus to Sacramento and back---that’s 768 miles---to join thousands of other students from all over California in a march-to-the-Capitol-steps rally against the latest in what’s become an annual proposal for huge cuts in the state’s higher-education budget. GreaterLongBeach.com correspondent Georgina Montepeque, a 21-year-old junior communications major at CSUDH, was on the bus and in the march and at the rally. This is her report.]

2:23 AM It’s way past my bedtime and long before my first class, and I am standing with a lot of people I don’t know beneath an American flag, which is gusting in the wind outside the Small College Complex buildings on the campus of Cal State Dominguez Hills. I look around and wonder to myself: “What was I thinking?”

But I know the answer very well. I was thinking about my dream to one day be a college graduate and thinking about how this dream seems to be slowly slipping through my fingers. Because of the California State University system’s ever-increasing tuition and fees, combined with constant cuts in the budget and student aid, attaining a degree is becoming less accessible and affordable.

My student aid, which two years ago paid for my tuition, fees and books, only covers about 20 percent of my costs this year. When my parents couldn’t come up with the money right away, I was placed on hold and could not register for classes. As of right now, my parents are paying with checks and credit cards.

So a few weeks ago, when I saw a flyer for the “March in March”—inviting Dominguez Hills students on a 384-mile journey to the Capitol Building in Sacramento to unite with thousands of students from all over California in demonstration in support of higher education—I immediately started thinking, “Yes.”

3:04 AM As we climb aboard the chartered bus, I reflect that this isn’t quite what I expected. I had imagined hundreds of Dominguez Hills students filling a caravan of grand buses that would take us to our destination in style—we’d been told we’d have Wi-Fi.

But only 56 students are allowed to attend, and because the original luxurious bus had suffered damage in a collision with a wall, we are all squeezed into a dented bus that doesn’t have Internet. Since the trip is completely free—Associated Students Incorporated (ASI) provided everything, including transportation and meals—I pledge to myself that I will not complain.

I stick to that pledge even when our animated driver gives us a speech about the restrooms—advising us that we shouldn’t use them unless we want to endure a pungent smell throughout the ride. “You’re better off holding it,” he says, before adding that he will only stop for us to use public restrooms if we are on schedule. This is going to be a long night.

4 AM For a political mission, there isn’t much talk about politics. The people who are conversing at all are talking about what they did over the weekend or what they’re going to do next weekend. Most people try to sleep.

7:14 AM It is almost impossible to sleep. We are in such close quarters that if you move to the right you bump into someone, and if you move to the left you fall out of the seat seat. I end up alternating among napping, watching movies, and eavesdropping. None of it is very satisfying, not even the eavesdropping—I basically had a choice between listening to conversations about people’s majors and career plans or tips on how to properly curl and fashion hair.

8:23 AM We come to a rest stop—I have no clue where—but I am stunned to see endless green hills with cows grazing on them. To a young girl from the heart of Los Angeles who has rarely traveled far from the city, this is a remarkable sight.

10:44 AM The bustle of people getting off the bus wakes me up. We’re in Sacramento. While passing in and out of sleep, I missed our entrance into the city. I notice it’s raining. I realize I didn’t bring a raincoat or an umbrella, just a regular sweater. I feel excited to be here—but relief, hunger and still sleepy, too. As we are slowly discharged from the bus, we can hear the others chanting, “Student power!” I’m not too enthusiastic. The commotion is a little overwhelming for me, because I tend to be a keep-to-myself person. I feel out of my element.

11 AM We have unloaded at the Towe Auto Museum, where we begin our march to the steps of the Capitol Building. The rain quickly soaks me to the skin. But everyone has continued to cheer, and the enthusiasm in the air begins to envelope me. I get into the energy. Soon I am rallying with the best of them.

11:15 AM I get my first look at the Capitol Building. It’s so big and so beautiful that all I can do is take pictures of it.

11:24 A.M. The atmosphere is surreal. The beating of drums fills the air and everyone is marching in the soaking rain, chanting in unison with people they have never met. Hands linked with one another, a group of us make our way to the very front of the crowd, where the energy level is even stronger.

As I stand on the steps of the Capitol Building, I can actually hear the echoes of the chants and cheers bouncing back off its walls. It suddenly dawns on me: I am really here—hundreds of miles away from home, soaked to the bone, representing thousands of students whose futures may be on the line. It is kind of a surreal moment—I really did come. And for this moment, at least, I really do feel we can make a difference.

12:27 PM The rally over, a few of us take a detour to a local mall in search of a restroom. The search feels like a scavenger hunt. At some point, I get separated from my group of friends. But now it doesn’t matter to me. I join another group of people, who I have never met before, and feel open to meeting them, making friends with them, too.

1:13 PM Time to get back to the bus. But of course, there are always those who ignore the schedule. So off we go in search of them.

2:00 PM Now that the rally—the reason for this trip—is over, we are dreading the six to seven hour drive home. The matter of which movie to watch on the bus is suddenly very important, and the debate turns into a battle of the sexes. The girls decide to torture the boys by playing Beauty and the Beast.

7:44 PM We’re getting close to home, but we can’t wait any longer to eat, so the bus driver pulls off the freeway so we can get pizza. But we soon realize he is lost, although he won’t admit it. Suddenly, the frustrating search becomes karaoke night. Instead of everyone reacting angrily, they break into song—an out-of-tune version of “Stand By Me.”

8:41 PM Our last, long haul home begins, and we all sing “Who Let the Dogs Out.” There isn’t much conversation. Mostly, everybody is exhausted. But every once in awhile somebody brings up the demonstration, and what we might be able to do next.

9:55 PM I have never been so happy to see my school. When I first stood here 20 hours ago, everyone on the bus was virtually a stranger. Not anymore. Associated Students Incorporated provided us with more than just a ride to Sacramento—it gave us an experience. Seeing thousands of students come together that way is something I will take to the grave. I will be that old lady exaggerating our story: “Well in my day, I got on a bus in the middle of the night with 56 strangers…”