Surviving Castro - and Harvard, too

By Johnny Diaz, Globe Staff, 4/20/2003
The Boston Globe

Despite obstacles, a refugee's drive to reach his dreams wins admirers in high places

Miguel Arguelles' journey to Harvard began eight years ago 1,800 miles away, where he wrote that ''the sun shines brightest and drowns in tears ... where Santa Claus has not the visa to enter and dreams cannot escape their prison of nonexistence.''

He wrote that in his college application essay about life in Cuba, about his dreams at age 10 of heading to Harvard, a place his mother, a science teacher, would idealize.

When he arrived in Miami on Feb. 15, 1995, he couldn't speak English. He was known as ''a Cuban ref'' - refugee - among his high school classmates, and through high school, his English bore a thick Spanish accent.

By graduation time, though, he became his school's valedictorian and the first student there to head to Harvard. His up-by-the-bootstraps transformation made him a kind of celebrity in Miami, with the mayor's wife leading a scholarship drive and President Bush even acknowleging him in a speech - in fact, encouraging him to succeed at Harvard in a speech before hundreds of people.

Talk about pressure. Cambridge is a long way from Miami, and celebrity doesn't cut it when you are studying alongside Al Gore Jr., Star Wars star Natalie Portman or a descendant of John Adams - or when you start your college life by mopping floors and scrubbing toilets.

Yet he has made it to the warmer weather, despite a few bumps along the way.

They include - gasp! - a few B's.

Yet after nearly finishing an academic year, in a sign of his assimilaton, he'd rather talk about his Harvard ballroom dancing competitions; the salsa party he swayed and swirled at over the weekend; the seductive yet magical qualities of creative writing; and how he finally feels settled in at what he calls his third home.

Impressed by the campus and by the tradition, it is the smaller things that Arguelles enjoys the most.

''I like the random talk that surfaces at anytime, anywhere with anyone here. I feel those are the moments when you learn the most,'' he said, his straight hair smothered by his crimson high school baseball cap, which matched the big red ''H'' on his sweatshirt.

As he sauntered through Harvard Yard on a cool Sunday morning, at least four students waved or greeted him with ''Hi Miguel.''

''Everyone here is here because they have something special. It is an intimidating journey, but it is a matter of not being overwhelmed. I was going to meet my dreams and do what I always wanted to do all my life,'' he said, reflecting on some of the challenges he's encountered at the Ivy League school.

Another challenge: the thermometer. When it's cold in Boston, he discovered, it's really cold - and the roughest winter in years wasn't a warm welcome.

''No matter how cold it was, he still stuck through it,'' said Odeviz Soto, Arguelles' best friend in Miami, who was on the receiving end of many late-night conversations from Cambridge last fall. Soto arrived in Miami from Cuba a month after Arguelles with the same dreams of going to Harvard, and received his acceptance letter recently from the school.

Of Arguelles, Soto said: ''He persevered, overcame a language barrier and worked hard to make his dream come true. He has been an inspiration to me and many of my peers.''

Arguelles has also found that people in the Boston area are friendly, despite a reputation to the contrary, particularly when it comes to minorities.

That leads us to another misconception: that he could somehow continue his straight A run.

''It was hard getting used to that. I was getting straight A's all my life, well, since the seventh grade,'' Arguelles said during a midday chat in a Harvard cafeteria. His grades so far have been A's and high B's.

But that's OK, he says. ''You focus more on what you are learning. Grades become secondary.''

So does sleep.

To keep up with his homework, Arguelles says he sometimes stays up for 48 hours, solving problems in calculus, scrutinizing formulas for chemistry and letting ''the writing take [him]'' in his creative writing class.

Although he wants to become a doctor, writing, too, is part of his plan - and the class has become one of his favorites. Writing always has been an emotional escape, a vehicle that allows him to revisit memories of Cuba - and release them as well.

He is working on a novel, about a boy growing up in Cuba. In the story, he underscores the importance of fantasy in childhood, something he lacked in his own. In his Harvard application essay, he writes: ''I had to recite Communist pledges on a daily basis, and where I was taught only what (Fidel) Castro's dictatorship believed appropriate. ''

In that world, Arguelles writes, Castro's government molds every child's idiosyncrasies ''to its distorted vision.''

Growing up in Havana, Arguelles said, he and other children celebrated ''holidays dictated by the government, the birth and death of the martyrs.''

There was no Santa Claus. No tooth fairy. No Halloween. ''I feel that is very important about growing up here,'' said Arguelles, now 18.

For Arguelles, growing up in the US began in February 1995, when he, his younger brother and their parents arrived in Miami after his paternal grandfather secured visas for them and flew them over from Cuba. A top mathstudent in Cuba, Arguelles struggled with his new language.

''It's hard to learn English in Miami because everyone speaks Spanish,'' he said, recalling how words like chair and beach became tongue twisters. (When he spoke, ''chair'' often sounded like ''share'').

The homesick boy survived his first year in America the same way he has endured at Harvard - by pouring his efforts into learning.

''I didn't see it as anything other than what I was supposed to do,'' he said, adding that his parents, professionals who studied in Kiev under the Soviet system, took factory jobs when they arrived in Miami to make ends meet. At first, the family lived in a gymnasium until they had enough money to rent an apartment.

While they worked and studied English at night, Arguelles avoided watching Spanish-language television. Instead, he paid close attention in his language classes, and honed in on dialogue in cartoons and sitcoms such as ''Family Matters.''

He also read a lot. He devoured Agatha Christie novels. He has repeatedly read his all-time favorite book, The Little Prince.

''I can identify with him,'' said Arguelles, sitting in a Harvard cafeteria, as the thumpthump of hiphop pounded in the distance. ''He refuses to let anything stand in his way. He embraces the world of dreams. This little guy pursues his dreams.''

By the end of sixth grade, Arguelles said, he was speaking English at a comfortable level, despite his accent, while he continued speaking Spanish at home. And at Barbara Goleman Senior High School just outside of Miami, he routinely took college-level classes.

''For someone who had been in this country for such a short time, Miguel's knowledge and grasp of the intricacies of language was phenomenal,'' said Linda Galati, Arguelles' high school adviser.

As Miguel excelled, so did his family. His mother, Maria Teresa Arguelles, became a middle school English-as-a-second-language teacher - and is getting a master's. His father, Angel Arguelles, rose to supervisor at a construction company. Miguel's younger brother, Alejandro, is also college-bound. Two years ago, the family bought a home in a middle-class suburb just outside Miami, where Miguel spent hours in his bedroom writing papers on his laptop.

Then, in December 2001, Miguel received an e-mail: He had been accepted into Harvard.

''I was speechless. You realize it's in front of you, but you don't. You stare at it. Then the crying comes.''

News of his story caught the attention of President Bush, who invited Arguelles and his family to a speech in downtown Miami where he read excerpts of Arguelles' college essay.

''It's essential that Miguel, that you not only succeed, but it's essential that we remember the shackles of freedom that Miguel wrote about,'' Bush said that evening, according to a White House transcript. ''I want to thank you for your poignancy.''

With the limelight behind him and his sights set on Cambridge, Arguelles began his Harvard studies last fall. He arrived a week before classes began, to clean, scrub, mop, sweep and dust in the dorms, to help pay for his books.

The loneliness of those first few days felt familiar. ''The hardest part was having to leave your family and friends all over again,'' he recalled, saying the experience brought back memories of leaving his Cuban home years earlier.

Walking back to his dorm on an April Sunday, as the sun - and the Cambridge temperatures - climbed, Arguelles broke into a smile. ''Success is when you achieve that happiness that you seek,'' he said. ''I am living my dream.''

Johnny Diaz may be reached at jodiaz@globe.com

This story ran on page 1 of the Boston Globe's City Weekly section on 4/20/2003.

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