2014
Coronado High School
Vol . 37
Coronado High School 100 Champions Place El Paso, Texas 79912 915. 833. 2477
Poetry If I Was God For a Day , The World As We Know It Diego Martinez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .4-5 I Used to Be But Now Africa isaac ibarra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8-9 Out or In regina famatigan, Time Ali gluck . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10-11 You Are Perfectly Imperfect regina Famatigan, Love paulina perez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .12-13 Clocks ali gluck, The Final Sigh CelinE Nicole Saenz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .16-17 My Paradise Shannel Diamos, Fall Marie Ramos and Sofia Garza . . . . . . . . . . . . . .18-19 Night Cameron rodriguez, Sleep robertha Sepulveda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . 22-23
prose Nothing At All Regina Famatigan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..6-7 October, The Months Between May and September cameron rodriguez . . . . . . .14-15 1, 2, THEN 3 ali gluCk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .20-21 The Big Day claire gay, A New Day Begins Jerra Miller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-25 Caring celine nicole saenz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
26-27
Photography isaac ibarra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Jair medina, Mario Solis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6-7 isaac ibarra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8 isabel munoz, Mariana Ramirez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10-11 Liz Vega, Isaac Ibarra, Sabrina Fernandez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .12-13 Isaac Ibarra, Liz Vega. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .14-15
Isabel munoz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Isaac ibarra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .24-25 Natalia Dorado, Zach Krasne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .26-27 Isaac Ibarra, Austin Gardner, Natalia Dorado, Nathan Bean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .28-29 austin gardner, Isaac Ibarra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30-31
Art molly locke. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6 ximena lopez. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9 Eileen Carcamo. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 renata lopez. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 maggie White. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . ..19 Brianna Solorzano. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .21 maleny lopez. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22-24 Norma veloz, aaron mietlinski, aynse lutse-vasquez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .32-33 aaron mietlinkski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..34-35 Maleny Lopez, brya ludwig. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36-37 valeria carillo, Mara Flores, Lauren curry. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 38-39
Cover page
Photos Isaac ibarra, isabel munoz, austin gardner Artwork Natalia enriquez
IF I WAS GOD FOR A DAY By Diego Martinez
If I was God for a day I would crumble at the feet of every child Who still believes I love him To every being who stilll silently speaks to me And thinks that I’m listening; At the feet of every person Who is still willing to die for me, A merciful maker making mistakes many times. Still willing to kill. I would crumble before them and beg them to stop. If I was God for a day I would be the half naked dirty child, In the rotting, stinking gutter on the street With his rib cage kicked in, And a dry tongue to keep him from sin. If I was God for a day, I would be you, And I would make myself feel Every single inch of pain My love ever put you through.
Four
Photo by Isaac Ibarra
The World As We Know It By Diego Martinez
Skies are dark and smoggy People appear with new symptoms Governments extend their activities Groups that promise change come and go And all we know for sure is that We don’t know where we are going And we forget where we came from
five
Nothing At All
by Regina Famatigan
She heard it. The pounding of the running footsteps and the claps of thunder that vibrated the marrow of her bones, and the siren so loud it made her ears ring, and the barking of dogs, and the yells of freedom, and the rattling of chained fences, and a trigger being pulled. But she heard nothing at all. She felt it. The rough yet smooth, heavy, light touch of the sword clutched in her hands as she positioned it at the beast. She felt her heart hammering and her stomach tightening, and her mind racing, and her eyes darting, and her feet staying firmly planted on the ground as it charged ahead. But she felt nothing at all. She tasted it. The salty sea air as it blew against her face and tossed around the hair that wasn’t securely held down by her captain’s hat, and the bitterness of her last bottle of wine, and the staleness of the days-old bread, and the sweetness of victory as she finally spotted the island she
had been searching for. But she tasted nothing at all.. She could smell it. The petrichor from the rain outside, the burning of wood from her torch as it lit the seemingly endless tunnel she was descending into, and the wilting, decaying, musky scent of long-sealed off places as it drifted into her nostrils and clouded her mind, both beckoning her forward and warning her to turn and never come back. But she smelled nothing at all. She saw it. The never-ending expanse of trees in all directions as she stalked her game, the cascading waterfall as it smashed and exploded into mist and color when colliding with the bright sun and rocks below, and the spot of black as they buzzed around the corners of her eyes, and the cream brown fur of the deer that was stationary at last, allowing her to bring it back to her family. But at all she saw were words. She put down the book. Art by Molly Locke; photos by Jair Medina, Mario Solis
seven
I USED TO BE BUT NOW SOUTH AFRICA By IsAac ibarra
eight
I used to be a peaceful place Full of possibilities Teeming with life from aphids to elephants Then the people came First black then white, then all their strife Their feud lasted many years, and brought along even more tears But then the bravest of their kind lead them to a new day And again I am a peaceful place Full of possibilities. Children are dancing and singing songs of freedom There are now equal beginnings and hearts full of hope The people are united , And together they enter doorways, Their destinies now one
PhotoS by IsA ac Ibarra
not alone by regina famatigan
Weary eyes, tarnished with years Hold so much pain, stained from the tears Never planned for this in your life, Back arched in burden, can’t sleep at night It’s not that bad, you tell yourself Others have it worse, I don’t need any help But the world doesn’t belong on only your shoulders You do not have to spend all of your time pushing up that boulder You matter too. You don’t have to stop giving all of your love to others, But what is it worth when no one knows your suffering? You have meaning. It doesn’t make you less strong, to depend on someone. Mouth in a smile, hidden frown lines Not saying the thoughts that are locked in your mind You always say what they want to hear You are the friend that you don’t have near “No need to worry them with my own life,” “They have their own problems, they don’t need mine.” You deserve happiness you always give It’s your life you’re living, so go out and live. I am not saying to stop caring from your bones, All I am saying is that you are not alone. art by ximena lopez
nine
Time By Ali Gluck
It is so deceitful Being endless, Yet you never have enough of it. Being a constant, Yet making you feel as if it is uncontrolled. Being a dictator, Yet you never have the ability to see it reign over your life. Being heartless, Yet having the ability to be compassionate if it pleases. Being alone, Yet having the ability to wrap around us all. Being insane,
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Yet at the same time being so normal. Being immortal Yet killing us all. Time is the only thing we have, Yet it is the only thing we have no control over. It says jump We say how high It creates us We thank it It destroys us We accept it Time is the biggest lie Yet it is the only truth we have.
PHoto by Isabel Munoz
Out or In By Regina Famatigan
Just another hour Of another day Of another week While your minutes tick away. Just another breath And another blink Spent wasting time on an unproductive week. You crave adventure, a change of scene, Some exploration in a place you’ve never been. You want escape, you want out of here You’d do whatever it takes to simply disappear. Just some white paper, and a brand new pen.
A blank camera with no video tape in Just some notes and an empty staff So many people to meet, so much fun to have You’ve got imagination and ideas in your mind And other people’s words made in every kind You don’t need any money or a plane You are creative with a brain. Because there are so many things to do Whether you’re out or in your room.
PHoto by mariana ramirez
eleven
You Are Perfectly Imperfect by Regina Famatigan
You are perfectly imperfect And everything about you is worth it Your flaws are beautiful Even though they are hard to find. You are perfectly imperfect. When being in your presence I’m at a loss for words Cause when you smile It takes away all my attention You are perfectly imperfect Your voice soothes my soul A feeling that can’t be described with words. I can’t even grasp what I’m feeling, But I do know What I’m feeling is real. You are perfectly imperfect to me.
twelve
photos by liz vega, Isaac Ibarra, Sabrina Fernandez
Love by Paulina perez
Love is gentle. Love is kind. Love can make you lose your mind. Love is patient. Love is pure. Love is a disease without a cure. And it seems as though it isn’t worth the pain. The fighting, the breakdowns, the conflictions in the brain. And it looks as though it makes people insane, Suffering losses,nothing gained. So I convinced myself it’d never happen to me. I am better than that, I know more than that. I am wiser than that, I don’t need all of that. I can avoid all of that, or so it had seemed.
photo by Isaac Ibarra
OCTOBER by Cameron Rodriguez
She walked cautiously along the side of the road. Avoiding the shallow puddles from the rain the night before, her boots crunching the falling leaves and leaving distorted footprints on the still damp ground. She could smell the October air, and with her jacket wrapped tightly around her body, she blew a warm puff of air to test the coldness, and was rewarded with a warm graphite cloud that enveloped her face.
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Her dog pranced idly in front of her, fluttering from yard to yard, sniffing random objects. It was too cold to be walking her dog, too cold, too wet, and too late. But her heart hurt, and she needed some fresh air. She felt silly, silly for crying over a boy, and silly for fighting with her best friend. He was just a stupid boy with nice teeth and soft lips, one who didn’t even really care about her.
The house she stopped
in front of was white with a red door. The lights were on and she could make out the silhouettes of people inside. She could hear the laughter, feel the warmth, but this only made her colder. Parked outside the white house with a red door was her best friend’s car. Shiny, new, and
parked next to his, like it belonged. She thought if she could, she would go back in time and change the moment where she lost her best friend and boyfriend. Her dog tugged the leash, pulling her forward. She turned around and trudged back home.
The Months between may and september by Cameron rodriguez
She used to spend summers at her father’s house. He lived along the shore of Georgia, and she remembered running straight toward the crashing waves, the salty cold water shocking her feet. They would play in the ocean until her body felt heavy and tired. When she was completely spent, they would begin the long trek back up to their house, shaking itchy sand off their limbs and out of their swimsuits. She would stand on the deck wringing her hair and watching the droplets fall between the boards, while he wrapped her up in a towel and a hug. She remembered how every night, he would lie with her in bed telling stories until she couldn’t keep her eyes open and melted into sleep.
Photos by Liz Vega and Isaac Ibarra
fifteen
Clocks By Ali Gluck
Never faithful Always unreliable Never controlled Always Independent Time.
sixteen
Photo by Isabella Munoz; Art by Eileen Carcamo
The Final Sigh By Celine Nicole Saenz
A memory appears in the mind of a man, From a long time ago, Of two children playing in a field of green, And how nature was their old abode. He recollects their laughter like bells in the breeze. How the sweet taste of innocence kept them at ease. The forest floor tickled their toes, As they passed on the path to their perfect paradise. There they imagined a life without strife, Naive goals they wanted to achieve. But that was before they fell apart. Times have changed, they’ve grown up. Dazed and confused, he wanders the forest. Then emerges with emerald eyes engulfed in tears. Swirling with a withered heart, Abandoned and alone, he heads home. Instead, he arrives at the house of his old friend. When he observes her through the window pane, Her once bare hands now adorned with gold, He remembers how soft they were to hold. He inhales the smell of dying trees and sighs, Turns to make his way back home, When, suddenly, a light speeds up on the right, And his world fades to black.
seventeen
MY PAraDIse By ShannelL Diamos
I feel the breeze push back my hair. Each and every strand, flying lively, its own melody. In this astonishing garden, I feel liberated, like all the strings holding me let go. The river rushing, cleansing away my fears, I can’t help but grin, because everything is flawless. The smell of life fills me with contentment. For some reason, nothing can ever go wrong.
eighteen
Art by Renata Lopez, Maggie White
FAll
By MArie Ramos and sofia garza
I felt it in an instant Perfect timing, perfect place. If it wasn’t for the distance, Every day I’d see your face. I remember so clearly, That gruesome goodbye. Your eyes so green like a field of trees. Those short memories in that month of July, When I’d look at you and freeze. September told me that it would end soon, The sound of leaves falling, The sight of brightness in the moon. And though I felt like love didn’t matter at all, You still made me taste my salty tears, and fall.
1, 2, Then 3 STORY BY ALI GLUCK
“How am I supposed to get a gun?” That was just one of the thoughts, along with a million others, that were racing through Katherine Curtis’ mind on the day of April 8, 1994. Sprawled out on the floor of her apartment, transfixed on the screen of the television. Stuck in a place of utter madness. Her mind continued going, racing forward to an unknown point, while her heart remained shattered and at a complete standstill. Not one, but two, loves had lost the game they played with death. One by choice, one by fate. One male, one female. One with a gun, one with water. But there were two things that they both had in common, the fact that they both had loved her, and the fact that they were dead. She knew the amount of planning that would go into this, and the one thing that was her driving force was the fact that it would all be over soon, that Julia and Kurt would both be at the other end of this hellish road, ready to embrace her dead soul with the love they did when they were both alive. She went to Kurt Cobain’s memorial service at the Seattle Center to say her last earthly good bye. She stood amongst a sea of fans, swirling in the loss of it all. Where had the time gone? How could she have taken this world for granted? She took a deep breath, and walked out of the center, assured of what she was going to do. Weeks worth of meticulous notes lay strewn across the floor. “GUN TYPE: REMINGTON MODEL 11 20,” “PUNCTURE WOUNDS IN RIGHT AND LEFT ELBOW,” “NOTE LEFT WITH TWO DIFFERENT STYLES OF HANDWRITING.” Katherine had even taken to scrawling out notes on the wall. “NOTHING LEFT TO LIVE FOR,” and, “FOR JULIA AND KURT,” were just a couple examples of the phrases she used. Red paint so fresh that the letters dripped down the wall, the paint crawling to its inevitable place on the ground. “It’s time,” Katherine spoke to no one. She stood in the center of the room, eager to die so she could be reunited with the people she loved. She left behind a copy of his note, along with hers scrawled on the wall. Then she pulled the trigger.
twenty
Julia Waters was enjoying her car ride back home from work. She knew Katherine would be waiting for her with a glass of wine in hand. She always loved how Katherine was always ready hold her and kiss her right when she walked through the door. She always had a bit of paint somewhere on her body, and Julia always took enjoyment in finding it. But for now she was stuck in the car, the radio murmuring in the background. Absorbed in her thoughts, she entered onto the floating bridge. The news of Julia’s death is what began the whole tragedy. And then Kurt Cobain’s death finalized Katherine’s decision to pull the trigger. Katherine had dated Kurt in the early years of his career, and throughout school. Fame had torn them apart, and the fact that they were always arguing about something. Katherine met Julia at Seattle Community College and had been in love with her ever since. They were a perfect fit compared to her and Kurt, because not only did they love each other, but also they had a strong friendship and valued each other highly. The obituaries for both Kurt and Julia came in the same newspaper. Those were the final things that Katherine read before she left this world. She pinned them up on the wall and thought to herself, “Maybe someone will be kind enough to put my own up beside theirs to make me feel less alone once I am gone. “
“Well, I think it’s time I joined them.” ART BY BRIANNA SOLORZANO
NIGHT By Cameron Rodriguez
The wind whistles through the branches on the trees A high-pitched noise curls around the claws of twisting bark The sky changes from dark to darker. Deep breaths echo the steps like thunder on the ground. Lurking. Waiting. Watching. A creaking moan Softly, sorrowfully, it yearns. Stop. Don’t move. Step faster, faster, faster, now run. Lost in the trees that canopy the sky. Eyes like fire search the forest, then stop. Oh God. A prayer, a sigh. It’s here.
twenty-two
Art by Maleny Lopez
SLEEP
By Robertha Sepulveda
Sleep. I want you to sleep. Sleep for me. Sleep because you need to. Sleep because you want to. Sleep until the sun rises again. Sleep until the moon disappears. Sleep before the drowsiness knocks you cold. Sleep before you worry about me. Sleep for yourself. Sleep because the insomnia has swallowed me whole. I’d rather you sleep. So, please, Sleep.
twenty-three
the big day by claire gay
Nervous hands clutch me tightly. She has talked to me, told me how happy she is. This is the biggest day of her life. I’m just happy I get to be part of it. I’m all tied up with ribbon; she’s dressed in white. It’s time to walk down the aisle. The music starts, beckoning her towards her future. She’s in love. That much is obvious from the flush of her cheeks, her radiant smile, and her hammering pulse. It’s this fact that helps her take the first step. We make it down the aisle; she kisses her father’s cheek at the end. Her eyes are only for her beloved, and her hands are shaking as she hands me to her Maid of Honor. The ceremony is beautiful. I watch from the table at the reception. Everyone is happy and dancing. Finally that moment comes. All the girls are hopeful. They all want to have their own me. Someone to talk to, and hold, and eventually throw into crowd of other hopefuls. But now it’s my turn to sail through the air towards the next bride to be. twenty-four
ART BY maleny Lopez, Photos by Isaac Ibarra
a new day begins by jerra miller
I walked into the room with a school box in one hand and my mother’s hand in the other. She bent down so she could look straight into my fearful eyes and attempted to convince me that everyone is scared on the first day. With a kiss on my forehead and a gentle pat on the back, she let go of my sweaty palms and placed my hand into those of a soft spoken lady who knew exactly what to say. I sat down on the colorful mat in the circle filled with children and crossed my legs Indian style. It was my first day of public school as a kindergartener and I had no idea what to expect. Days went on, months continued, and years passed. School work bdcame tougher, responsibilities increased, and life became more difficult. I gained friends and lost some and made an effort to find who I was as a person. Time sped up, and, before I knew it, it was the start of what my future was to uphold. I walked into the room with an iPhone in one hand and my car keys in the other. I sat down in a desk and looked around and smiled at all the familiar faces. The teacher went straight into discussing what the year would contain and spoke firmly about all the rules and regulations. But, for a moment, I closed my eyes and pictured the small innocent child who walked into the room with fear in her eyes and confusion in her mind, and reminded myself that love, discipline, and dedication shaped who I am today. It was my first day as a senior, and I had no idea what to expect.
CARING Story By Celine Nicole Saenz
I am old. Older than the hills
skin, veins, and bones. David would
and twice as dusty. I have been at
squeeze me tight, his lips pressed
this job for thirty-two years. In the
together for each stab into his tiny
beginning there was never a dull
tot torso. When it was over, we would
moment. I was with him every day, to
walk out, heads held high like the
each chemo appointment, and the
brave soldiers we were. Once outside,
doctor’s appointments alike. It seems
David took off running. Away from
like ages ago that I was given to little
the doctors. Away from the parents.
David. I remember his hands being so
Away from the cancer.
small and cold as they held me, yet
ever so gentle. He was two years old
to run away from the cancer, and
that day, the day his parents told him
everything else for that matter. He
he was sick, but I was going to help
no longer needed me to help him.
take away the pain. At that moment,
So I sat, waited, and watched. I saw
his eyes, so full of innocence, looked
the fights between him and his dad.
down at me. That’s when I knew he
The drugs, the drinks, and all his ups
would never get rid of me.
and downs. I waited for him to reach
for me, but it wasn’t until David, no
For the next 10 years, I would
Eventually, David managed
reside in David’s arms, trying to take
longer the child I once played with,
away the pain he felt. At times it
finally brought me down from that
was too much for me and I would
shelf. His hands had changed - no
find myself closing my eyes as the
longer were they the cold little hands
enormous needles penetrated his
that held me with love, but the worn
twenty-six
photos by natalia Dorado, Zach Krasne
hands of a man, cold with resentment
tain her excitement. At that moment,
and bitterness.
David placed me in her hands that
were like little rosebuds in the sun —
Where had David gone? We
drove far to a house I had never been
warm and delicate. Her eyes, so full
to. His dad spoke of a girl, his daugh-
of innocence, looked down at me.
ter, who was plagued by nightmares.
“Celine, this is my care bear, Teddy.
This girl was David’s half sister. As
He always took care of me, protected
soon as we pulled up to the house,
me, and now he is here to help you.”
the girl came out and jumped into
David’s arms. “Brother! I missed you!”
each one filled with new adventures.
she exclaimed. David reached down
Even now, a young adult, Celine,
and grabbed me from the seat, hold-
reaches for me when the world gets
ing me behind his back. “Dad told
too rough to handle and I protect her.
me you were having bad dreams, so
My stitches may be loose, my color
I brought you something.” He said
faded, but I will always do what I do
softly. She began to hop up and
best, help the kids I love.
Twelve years have passed,
down, her little body unable to con-
twenty-seven
Photo Gallery
Isaac Ibarra
Austin Gardner
Nathan Bean Natalia Dorado twenty-nine
Photo Gallery
Isaac Ibarra
Isaac Ibarra
Austin Gardner twenty-nine
Art Gallery
Norma Veloz thirty-two
Aaron Mietlinski
Aynshe Lutse-Vasquez thirty-three
Art Gallery
Aaron Mietlinski
thirty-four
Aaron Mietlinski
thirty-five
w
Art Gallery
Brya Ludwig thirty-six
Maleny Lopez
Maleny Lopez
Art Gallery
Valeria Carillo thirty-eight
Mara Flores
Lauren Curry thirty-nine
Colophon Editors Liz Vega Austin Gardner Advisor Kimberly Haefner Staff Brianna Solorzano, Ali Gluck, Pauie Rodriguez, Cameron Rodriguez, Claire Gay, Maria Cardenas, Rachel Russ, Larue Duckett, Marisol Adame, Jair Medina, David Sanchez, IsAac Ibarra Mateo Pacheco, Jacob Colvard, Regina Famatigan, Hannah Shearin, Isabelle Munoz, Maria Jose Cardenas, Jair Medina,Stefany carrillo, Alan Lopez. Kaleidoscope Created with Apple IMacs, Adobe CS6,and Sony A230s Typefaces: Code Light/ Bold, Webly sleek ui Paper Stock: Sterling Premium Gloss 80 lb 400 Copies
The El Paso Independent School District does not discriminate in its educational programs or employment practices on the basis of race, color, creed, age,sex, religion, national origin, marital status, ancestry, citizenship, military status, mental or physical disability, gender stereotyping and perceived sexuality, or any other basis prohibited by law. Inquiries concerning the application of Titles VI, VII, IX, and Section 504 may be referred to the District compliance officer, Patricia Cortez, at 230-2033; Section 504 may be referred to Cecilia Whiteman at 230-2836. El Distrito Escolar Independiente de El Paso, no discrimina en sus programas educativos o en sus procedimientos de empleo en base a raza, color, creencias, edad, sexo, religión, nacionalidad, estado civil, procedencia, ciudadanía, categoría militar, discapacidad física o mental, estereotipo y percepción sexual, u otra consideración prohibida por la ley. Preguntas concernientes a la aplicación de los Títulos VI, VII o IX, y la Sección 504, pueden hacerse al Encargado del Cumplimiento en el Distrito, Patricia Cortez al tel. (915) 230-2033; preguntas sobre la Sección 504 para estudiantes discapacitados, pueden hacerse a Cecilia Whiteman al tel. (915) 230-2836.
Photo by Isaac Ibarra