The Bridge Builder: How a Journalist from Mexico City Became a Lifeline for Immigrant Families
Hilda Lail stood on a street in Vancouver, Washington in 1999, crying. She had come from Mexico City to learn English—just for a couple of years, she told herself—but the reality of navigating a new country, a new language, and a completely foreign culture was overwhelming.
"I find myself crying in the street, thinking, what am I doing here? I can't learn the language," she recalls.
Today, more than two decades later, Hilda is the Bilingual Family Engagement and Partnership Coordinator for Vancouver Public Schools' Multilingual and Student Success Department. In this role, she has become exactly what she needed when she first arrived: a bridge between families navigating an unfamiliar education system and the schools trying to serve them.
Her story is one of personal struggle transformed into professional purpose, of understanding born from lived experience, and of one person's determination to ease the path for those who follow.
From Journalism to a New Beginning
In Mexico City, Hilda was a journalist. She spent five years working for a newspaper, driven by a passion she still carries today: helping families and children. She thought journalism would be her vehicle for making that impact.
But she wanted to learn English, and she knew the best way to truly master a language was immersion. So in 1999, she made a decision that would change the trajectory of her life: she moved to the United States.
"I figured out the best way for me to do it is move to either the United States or another country that they just immerse in the language," she explains. "And I did. I came here in 1999, with the idea or the intention to stay a couple years, to learn the language."
She laughs at this now, acknowledging that "nobody can learn 100% a language," and she used that as her excuse to stay. She met her husband, got married, and began building a life in America as a young mother.
But the transition was far from easy.
A Mother's Frustration Becomes a Mission
When Hilda's son started school, she noticed something troubling: he wasn't a happy kid at school. As a parent still learning English herself, watching her child struggle in an educational system vastly different from the one she'd known in Mexico City left her feeling helpless.
"I felt very frustrated because one, I was still learning the language, and two, I noticed the school system was very, very different than the other place that I grew up."
Her response was practical and determined. She had her educational transcripts from Mexico transferred and validated, and she found an opportunity to work as a paraeducator in her son's school. Her initial motivation was straightforward: "Learn about the school system and how I can support my own kid."
The logic was simple but profound: "In my head, if I don't know how that works, I will not be able to support my son."
As she learned the ins and outs of the American education system, another realization struck her with force: she wasn't alone.
The Language Barrier Isn't Just About Language
Over the years, Hilda met countless families who found themselves in the same situation she'd experienced—coming from different countries, encountering an educational system that operated on completely different principles from what they knew, struggling to connect with schools and advocate for their children.
But Hilda discovered something crucial: language barriers weren't just about speaking English.
"The language is not the only barrier that we have," she emphasizes. "It's not that you don't speak English—it's also the language that we use in our system, in our school system."
"I can talk with families that they are from this country, that they do speak English, but they are still looking for support and how to do other stuff in order to support their education and their own kids."
The educational jargon, the acronyms (IEP, ELL, FAFSA), the unspoken cultural expectations, the complex processes for everything from enrollment to graduation—these create barriers for many families, regardless of their English proficiency.
This understanding would become the foundation of Hilda's approach to her work.
Building Her Career, Building Bridges
Hilda's journey through Vancouver Public Schools reflects her expanding impact and deepening commitment to family engagement:
First, she became a Family and Community Engagement Coordinator (FCEC) at her school, working with families in general—not just Spanish-speaking families, but any family that needed support navigating the system.
Because she was bilingual, other schools began calling her to support Spanish-speaking families when their own FCECs didn't speak the language. While the district had excellent interpreters, Hilda could offer something more—cultural understanding and the ability to explain not just the words, but the concepts behind them.
When the district opened a position for a Spanish Family Advocate, Hilda applied and transitioned into that role, serving families across the entire district.
A couple of years later, her current position—Bilingual Family Engagement and Partnership Coordinator—was created, giving her even more freedom to do what she does best: connect families with opportunities and resources.
The Freedom to Make a Difference
What makes Hilda's current role so meaningful is the autonomy it provides to be creative, responsive, and proactive in supporting families.
"What is amazing for me is that I have the freedom to do what I love, and then to connect with the families the way that I wish somebody did, beginning with me," she says.
She thinks about those early days, walking into schools as an immigrant parent, intimidated by the language barrier, not even knowing what questions to ask to help her child. She remembers how that felt—and she's determined that other families won't face those same barriers alone.
La Plaza: A Program Transformed
One of Hilda's most significant contributions has been her work coordinating and transforming a program called La Plaza. While she didn't create the program, she's spent nearly five years reshaping it to better serve families.
Originally, La Plaza focused on providing English classes for Hispanic families. Under Hilda's coordination, it has evolved into something much more comprehensive and inclusive.
"This is a program for everybody, not just families that are in the district," she explains. "You don't have to have kids in a district to be part of this program because we all need that support."
Today, La Plaza serves families from approximately 11 different countries—Ukraine, Russia, Japan, and many others. It's open to the entire family, not just adults.
But here's what makes it special: while adults learn English, their children receive academic support. Hilda deliberately reframed this component because she didn't want it labeled as "daycare."
"It's not daycare," she insists. "These kids are receiving academic support that aligns with what they're learning in school."
The program runs twice a week, and each session concludes with a cultural dinner—a detail that matters deeply to Hilda.
"I don't want to one day have one person say, 'Well, just look for something cheaper,'" she says firmly. "That would be an insult for the culture. If I want to do a cultural dinner, I have to do it the way that is the right way to do it and celebrate that and be respectful."
This insistence on doing things properly—on honoring cultures rather than taking shortcuts—is characteristic of Hilda's approach. Much of her time is spent connecting with organizations, seeking grants and donations to ensure the program can maintain this level of quality and cultural respect.
Understanding Through Imagery
One of Hilda's gifts is her ability to help educators understand the immigrant student experience through vivid imagery and comparison.
When working with teachers and staff, she uses a powerful metaphor: "Just imagine I'm the first one that you walk to Disneyland. Do you feel overstimulated? Do you want to see everything? That's how our kids feel when they walk into our classrooms."
She talks about the stark differences between classrooms in many other countries and American classrooms. In many places, classrooms are simpler—fewer materials, less visual stimulation, different expectations.
"Sometimes our kids—it's not behavior. They just need a little time to connect with all that is in the classroom. Maybe for us in our schools, we don't have it. And you have it over here and it's an add, something for your classroom and educational. And then you have to, I would say, control yourself not to use it as a toy because it's not a toy here."
This reframing—from "behavior problem" to "adjustment period"—helps teachers see their students with more compassion and understanding.
A Day in Hilda's Life
Hilda's typical day is diverse and dynamic, reflecting the breadth of her role:
She coordinates La Plaza, managing everything from curriculum to cultural dinners to securing funding. She creates and leads affinity groups for Hispanic students in various schools, providing them with a safe space to share their experiences and feel connected to their culture.
"We just create our little bubble, I guess," she says. "I just want to bring something related to their countries, maybe a little candy. We play a little bit, but most likely I like to use that space for them to share with me: What can we do for them to make them feel comfortable at schools?"
She teaches computer classes to groups of parents who can't attend evening sessions, starting from the very beginning—how to turn on a computer, how to use a mouse—and building from there. These sessions often evolve into support groups where parents feel comfortable asking questions about the school system.
She works with the district's dual language program, connecting with Spanish-speaking families about the importance of maintaining bilingualism and building academic vocabulary in both languages.
"We can say we're bilingual," she notes, "but when you are in a situation that you are with the doctor, then maybe you are not that bilingual, right? So we want for our kids to grow that vocabulary."
She collaborates with the career department, identifying opportunities that students aren't accessing and working to change how information is presented to make it more accessible to families.
"There are a lot of opportunities that students are not being informed about and being part of them," she explains. She asks for information and then adapts it into language and formats she knows will be familiar to the families she serves.
She provides feedback on messages the district sends to families, ensuring they're clear and culturally appropriate.
And perhaps most importantly, she listens—really listens—to what families and students need.
The Weight of Understanding
Hilda's personal experience as an adult immigrant gives her unique insight into what children face—and it weighs on her.
"My experience was as an adult, right? And I cannot imagine how it is for a kid," she reflects. "When I moved over here, I didn't speak English and it was really frustrating. I find myself crying in the street, thinking, 'What am I doing here? I can't learn the language.'"
She's still learning English every day, she says. But she's an adult with coping mechanisms and life experience. Children don't have that same resilience.
"It really breaks my heart to see students in the school and everything is something that is they're not familiar. The language is not theirs. And I cannot even imagine what is close to their mind and their heart when they are in the classrooms."
She thinks about small things that make big differences—like how students' names are pronounced.
"They don't even call them their name, you know?" she says. "Because you use maybe a pronunciation that you think it is and the student doesn't feel connected with that name until maybe later. They figured out that, 'Oh, my name at the school is this one, at home it's this one.'"
These disconnects—from language to culture to even one's own name—accumulate. Hilda sees them, understands them, and works tirelessly to bridge them.
"If it's something that I can do to ease that, I will do it," she says simply.
The Stories That Keep Her Going
After nearly 12 years working for Vancouver Public Schools, Hilda has accumulated countless stories of impact. But a few stand out as reminders of why this work matters.
There was the woman she helped with interpretation during a job interview for a position in a kitchen. The woman started crying during the interview.
"She said that she never thought that she will be able to change her life like that, that this job will change her life," Hilda recalls. "There are things that you never thought or I never thought about how much a person can change other person's life for good."
This realization humbles Hilda. "Even myself, somebody changed my life and they gave me the opportunity to do this. And I love it, you know? And I want to be that person."
The Food Pantry Story
But perhaps the most powerful story Hilda shares is about the first food pantry she organized at a school.
She was excited about this new resource and was calling families to let them know about it. Walking outside on the playground, she noticed a mother with her young daughter. The little girl was running back and forth across the playground, and the mother was encouraging her: "Oh, just another one, sweetie. Just another one."
The child was exhausted. "Mom, I'm so tired. Let's go home. I don't want to keep running anymore."
But the mother persisted: "Oh, come on, sweetie, show me how you can run."
Hilda approached them to let them know about the food pantry. The mother seemed hesitant at first, but Hilda insisted: "Come grab whatever you want. It's the very first one, and I want to make sure that everybody has the opportunity."
The mother called her daughter over, and they walked into the gym. As the mother began selecting food, she started crying.
Hilda was concerned: "Oh, my gosh, what happened?"
"And she said, 'You know, Hilda? I was outside asking my daughter to run back and forth because I know I don't have enough food at home. So my intention was for her to be tired. That way she can eat the little bit of food that I have and do not ask for more because she wants to sleep.'"
The mother had been trying to exhaust her daughter so the child would eat less and go to bed without asking for more food that didn't exist.
"I'm talking about families that may not have access to resources," Hilda says quietly. "And then she said, 'Now I don't have to worry about it, and I can go home and cook something.' And the little girl was so happy grabbing the food, and the mom was very happy."
Hilda pauses. "So those tears of happiness make my job worth it."
The Heart of the Work
Stories like these—of job opportunities that transform lives, of food security that brings relief, of small kindnesses that ease a child's adjustment—are what drive Hilda to show up every day.
She sees herself in every struggling parent who doesn't know how to navigate the system. She sees her son in every child who feels disconnected in the classroom. And she sees possibility in every family that walks through the school doors.
Her work isn't just about interpretation or coordination or program management. It's about human connection, cultural respect, and the profound belief that everyone deserves access to opportunities—and someone who believes in them.
"There are a few stories that make my day and I remember them," she says. "They make me get up every day and say, I need to do this."
Lessons for Aspiring Educators
Hilda's journey from journalist to paraeducator to family engagement coordinator offers valuable insights for anyone considering a career in education, particularly those interested in supporting multilingual families and students:
Your Personal Experience Is Your Superpower: Hilda's struggles as an immigrant parent weren't obstacles to overcome and forget—they were the foundation of her professional insight. If you've navigated challenges, that experience can inform and strengthen your work.
Language Barriers Are Complex: Understanding that barriers exist beyond literal language translation—in educational jargon, cultural expectations, and system navigation—is crucial for anyone working with diverse families.
Cultural Respect Is Non-Negotiable: Hilda's insistence on doing cultural dinners "the right way" rather than looking for cheaper options demonstrates that honoring culture isn't an add-on—it's essential to the work.
Listen to What Families Actually Need: Hilda's program adaptations and resource connections come from listening to families rather than assuming what they need. This responsiveness is key to effective family engagement.
Bridge-Building Takes Many Forms: From affinity groups to computer classes to food pantries to translation services, supporting families requires creativity, flexibility, and a willingness to address needs as they arise.
Start Where You Are: Hilda began as a paraeducator in her son's school, simply trying to understand the system for her own family. That starting point led to a career serving thousands of families.
Advocate for Systems Change: Hilda doesn't just help individual families—she works to change how information is presented and how programs are structured to be more accessible from the start.
Empathy Requires Imagination: Her "Disneyland" metaphor for how immigrant children experience American classrooms demonstrates the power of helping others see through different eyes.
The Bigger Picture
Hilda's work represents a crucial but often undervalued aspect of education: family engagement and cultural bridge-building. While much attention in education focuses on classroom instruction and academic achievement, Hilda's work reminds us that families are essential partners in education—and that partnership requires intentional support, cultural competence, and genuine relationship-building.
For immigrant families, for multilingual families, for families unfamiliar with American educational systems, having someone like Hilda—someone who understands both worlds, who can explain not just what to do but why and how, who sees their struggles because she's lived them—can make the difference between connection and isolation, between accessing opportunities and missing them entirely.
The ripple effects of this work extend far beyond a single conversation or workshop. When a family understands how to advocate for their child, when a parent finds employment that changes their family's trajectory, when a student feels seen and understood in their school community—these moments create lasting change.
An Invitation to Build Bridges
Hilda's story challenges us to think expansively about what it means to work in education. Not everyone will be a classroom teacher or school administrator. But education needs people in roles like Hilda's—coordinators, advocates, bridge-builders who can connect families with schools and schools with families.
If you're bilingual, if you've navigated different cultural systems, if you understand what it's like to feel like an outsider trying to understand an insider's world—you have something invaluable to offer in education.
Roles like family engagement coordinator, community liaison, parent advocate, or bilingual support specialist allow you to leverage your own experiences to help others. They require cultural competence, language skills, empathy, creativity, and persistence—but perhaps most importantly, they require the ability to see possibilities where others see only barriers.
As Hilda demonstrates daily, sometimes the most impactful work in education happens not in classrooms but in school offices, community centers, computer labs, and food pantries—anywhere a caring professional can connect a family with what they need to thrive.
The Ongoing Journey
Hilda emphasizes that she's still learning English every day—and that honesty is part of what makes her so effective. She doesn't position herself as someone who has it all figured out, but rather as someone still on the journey, just a few steps ahead, reaching back to help others along.
"I'm still every day learning the language," she says without shame or apology. It's simply a fact, and it keeps her humble and connected to the families she serves.
Her work isn't finished. There are still families who don't know about resources available to them, still students who feel disconnected in their classrooms, still barriers to break down and bridges to build.
But every day, Hilda shows up. She organizes workshops, teaches computer classes, leads affinity groups, coordinates programs, seeks funding, adapts materials, provides feedback, and most importantly, listens to families and believes in their potential.
She does this because she remembers crying on that street in 1999, overwhelmed and uncertain. She does it because she remembers watching her son struggle in school. She does it because she knows what difference one person who cares can make.
And she does it because, as she discovered years ago when she first started working as a paraeducator to help her own child, when you help families understand and navigate the system, when you remove barriers and open doors, when you see people and honor their dignity—you don't just change individual lives. You strengthen entire communities.
Your Turn
If Hilda's story resonates with you—if you've ever felt like an outsider in an institution, if you speak multiple languages, if you understand cultural navigation, if you have a passion for helping families and believe everyone deserves access to opportunities—education needs you.
The field needs more bridge-builders, more cultural translators, more advocates who can see barriers that others don't notice and work creatively to dismantle them. Roles in family engagement, community partnership, multilingual support, and student services offer opportunities to make exactly the kind of impact Hilda makes every day.
Your background, your languages, your experiences navigating different systems—these aren't just personal assets. They're professional qualifications for work that desperately needs doing.
As Hilda proves, you don't have to be a classroom teacher to transform lives in education. Sometimes the most powerful work happens when you help a mother realize she doesn't have to exhaust her child to manage limited food, when you help a family find employment, when you explain to a teacher why a child needs time to adjust rather than seeing their uncertainty as misbehavior.
That work is education too. And it's work that changes lives.
Ready to explore how your unique experiences and skills could make you an asset in education? Visit careersined.org to discover pathways in family engagement, multilingual education support, community liaison roles, and other opportunities to build bridges and change lives. Your journey—wherever it started—could lead to work as meaningful as Hilda's.
Hilda Lail continues to serve as the Bilingual Family Engagement and Partnership Coordinator for Vancouver Public Schools, where she coordinates La Plaza, supports families across the district, and works tirelessly to ensure every family has access to the resources and understanding they need to support their children's education. Her work reminds us that education is a partnership—and that partnerships require builders of bridges.
