When Marcos Hernández first came to the country as a refugee from El Salvador at age 11, he lived in a garage for years. He fled the war-torn country in search of a better life, leaving the small pueblo of San Gerardo alone.
“After going hungry, being bombed and surviving several times, I came to believe that I had a purpose here,” said Hernandez, a soft-spoken man, in an understated manner. The story of his heroic life is false. “There must be a reason. And you try to follow it. I am here to serve the community.”
That's why he's dedicated his career to uplifting the lives of children in Cudahy, a small, densely populated, close-knit city near the Los Angeles River and Interstate 710. About a third of the population here lives below the poverty line. Hernández became the principal of a school called the Ellen Ochoa Learning Center, just a few blocks from the garage she once called home.
“This is the poorest city west of the Mississippi River.” These are the words of Hernandez, who spoke candidly about his own struggles. “I failed most of my classes my first year because I worked the graveyard shift. Almost everyone in my neighborhood was in a gang. Getting in and out of that community was difficult. “There was always someone waiting to jump on me because I didn’t want to join a gang.”
Poverty is often intergenerational. Hernández understands the lasting trauma it leaves behind. He will never forget living in a garage where he could only enter the main house and use the bathroom at certain times of the day.
“It was hard, but your body gets stronger over time,” he says earnestly.
Overcoming adversity with grace is in his bones. He doesn't dwell on his struggles, including his battle with cancer, but he certainly understands the power of his resilience. When he works with his families in his area, he knows how hard they fight to keep their heads above water. Although most of Ellen Ochoa's parents have not completed high school, they all want better for their children, who are English language learners.
“It’s a lot of fun,” says the patient and calm Hernandez, a father of three. “There is a pattern of oppression experienced by our students. “It’s this constant cycle that prevents children from other communities from getting the opportunities they do. I want to raise the bar. “What I’ve always said, what I try to live by every day, is everything that kids in Malibu, kids in Palos Verdes have access to, I want kids here to have.”
This is where art education comes in. He sees art as a path toward equity, a way to help children heal the wounds left by poverty. This is the vision of Turnaround Arts: California, an arts education program founded by renowned architect Frank Gehry and education advocate Malissa Shriver to transform the state's lowest-performing schools through the arts.
“We’re talking about human beings, not data points or test scores,” Shriver said. “People thought art was the cherry on top. Instead, we are actually the foundation of all of this. We are not extras, we are the foundation.”
The project, affiliated with the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C., has reached 35,000 students in 33 elementary and middle schools across the state over the past decade, and the state's new arts education mandate, Proposition 28, will help fuel the expansion. .
“Ensuring more equity so schools don’t have to rely on parent fundraising to determine who gets artwork is a big driver,” said Barbara Palley, Turnaround’s executive director. “One of the things we’re excited about is that it will pave the way for more schools interested in Turnaround Arts,” she said.
Hernández believes that the children least likely to be exposed to the arts are the ones who need it the most. Most schools participating in the program experience gains in both reading and math, a result that tracks with exhaustive evidence that the arts increase academic achievement and foster engagement.
“My specialty is supporting students who are struggling,” he says. “They need a second or third chance to succeed. Because that was me. This educational issue was never on my mind. It wasn’t on my radar. “I needed money.”
His childhood was difficult, with him working in the fields at age 10 and becoming a dishwasher at age 12, but his love for people and desire to make a difference in the world never wavered. When his father questioned why he was giving up a solid job as a restaurant manager to go to college, he insisted.
“You should have seen his face. He was happy for me, but he didn’t understand why you would leave a good job,” he recalls. “At that age, it occurred to me that the more we could push ourselves, the more impact we could have on future generations.”
That's the level of dedication he brought to his job at Ellen Ochoa, and he plans to bring that same tenacity to his new assignment as principal of Legacy High School's nearby Center for International Studies. He says it will be difficult to move on from Ellen Ochoa, who has seen the arts strengthen academia and curb misbehavior, but he is confident this work will continue.
“This is not about me as an individual,” he says with characteristic humility. “This is a collective project. It belongs to the community. They own it.”
COVID-19 has hit the region hard. Schools quickly became community hubs, providing thousands of meals, COVID tests and vaccinations to those in need.
Hernández used art as a tool to help rebuild a sense of community and appreciation for public life as we emerge from the pandemic. Students formed orchestras, painted murals and designed buildings with the famous Gehry.
“This is their land. This is their community,” says Hernandez. “I was walking by with my family and I saw this beautiful mural and I said, ‘You know what? I did that. This instills an incredible sense of pride in our students.”
His secret weapon is empathy. He treats everyone like family and takes the time to get to know the children, not just as students, but as people.
“Marcos cares for every family member and every child as if they were his own,” said Alison Yoshimoto-Towery, executive director of the UC/CSU Neuroscience, Diversity and Learning Collaborative. “He must have made over 500 home visits to find out about the hopes and dreams of his families and to build trust with the community.”
Giving back is a way of life for Hernandez. He is an activist and educator. He often rides his bike to work in Long Beach, delivering essential supplies to people along the river bike path along the way.
“He is a humble, servant type of leader,” says Shriver. “He doesn’t climb over people to get to the next location. … There is no ego there. He treats everyone with dignity. That’s why he’s a great leader and effective person.”
For him, education is not a job but a calling. He strives to engage his students in activities that stimulate their hearts and minds – from running marathons to painting murals – at night, on weekends and even during school breaks.
“That’s my passion.” He said simply. “That’s my purpose, my purpose is to serve.”