Life of A Low-Wage Worker

He was a well-known schoolteacher in his hometown in Mexico.

He was one of the best history teachers to have taught in his city back home.

He could be a father, a husband, a brother.

He could be a doctor, a scientist, or a teacher, again.

He is the first to arrive and the last to leave.

He is the one who picks up after your mess with a smile.

He is the one who says “Good-morning” even if it wasn’t.

He is that shadow you always see but never acknowledge.

He is Mr. Juarez.

Mr. Juarez is a current employee of Saint Joseph High School in Lakewood, California. With a little over eight hundred students, over seventy faculty and staff, and a campus fully equipped with computer rooms, chemistry laboratories, a gym, two chapels, and three fields, Mr. Juarez has his work cut out for him every morning at 4 a.m. Sweeping, refilling, cleaning, polishing, painting – only some of many duties on Mr. Juarez’s daily check list – this describes the daily living of many struggling workers.

Mr. Juarez is the janitor, or custodian, as some may say. No matter how you say it, however, the connotation is still the same: someone who cleans up after everyone. Racking in a grand total of approximately $20,000-$30,000 dollars per year, roughly $300 dollars a week, the average salary of a janitor can barely sustain the lifestyle found common amongst today’s society. Mr. Juarez, however, is no average janitor. He is the janitor of a private, Catholic all girls high school in Los Angeles suburbia. Mr. Juarez is no typical case; and yet, his story parallels that of so many.

Born and raised in Mexico, Mr. Juarez moved to California with the same twinkle in his eye as many before and after him. With the hope of better opportunities, Mr. Juarez left Mexico a schoolteacher and arrived on the soils of California a janitor. Unable to find work, Mr. Juarez’s only option came to be custodianship. Like many other stories, this became Mr. Juarez’s “American Dream.”

Mr. Juarez is a hard worker. Committed, prompt, cordial, and kind, his is a modest man living a modest life looking to live a somewhat average life. It is Mr. Juarez’s story that makes me reflect on my daily happenings. How many times have I seen what Mr. Juarez may perceive as a daily struggle as something so infinitely miniscule as to even notice? How many times have I walked into a restroom, used the facility, washed my hands, and walk out thinking “Thank God I had a seat cover, toilet paper, soap, and paper towels today.” How many times do I walk down the hallways, looking exactly the same as the day before, wondering, “How does our hall always look so clean?” How many times do I choose not to acknowledge the worker on his or her hands and knees cleaning the floor? How many times do I choose to dehumanize, on some degree, another individual based on his or her occupation? For individuals like Mr. Juarez, this occurs every day.

That is the life - the life of Mr. Juarez.

That is the American Dream - the dream of a man working to live, not living to work.

That, is the life of a low-wage worker.