It was so hot and dirty in the cotton fields of the Texas panhandle that the sweat ran down and streaked the face of the tiny six-year-old girl. It was the late 1950?s and Consepsion Huereca, the granddaughter of Mexican immigrants, and the daughter of first-generation Hispanic-American Catholic parents, dreamed of a better life. At first, ?better? simply meant being clean and going to school; as her childhood progressed, and after spending up to twelve hours bent over crops in the fields for weeks at a time, and scratching her hands or chopping tall weeds in the maize fields, ?better? was much more.

Even back then, Consepsion, nicknamed Connie, saw herself growing up to do something important. Though her father often pulled her and her siblings out of school to work in the fields, and she missed a lot of school, she wasn?t discouraged. Doing mindless work gave her lots of time for daydreaming ? and Connie let her imagination go wild. For a while her imagination got a boost with the help of a pair of gloves she found at the public dumping ground where her family scavenged. They were long and made of silk, and so soft to the touch. When Connie would slide them up her little arm, they extended past her elbows, and she felt regal. To eight-year-old Connie, the beautiful purple gloves were nothing short of magic. Whenever she put them on, Connie?s world transformed. ?I twirled and I danced,? Connie remembers wistfully, ?I held my microphone?and sang at the top of my lungs. I did poses like a ballerina. I practiced my entrance and exit off the stage, and saw myself receiving an award for outstanding performance. I was invincible; the world was at my feet.?

For several years, those magical moments softened the reality of living in a two-room house with her parents and eight siblings. They eased the differences Connie noticed between her life and those of her classmates. They mitigated the shame she felt about being from a family of poor migrant workers and the only Mexican family in Sherman County. Connie remembers, ?I had no money, no role models, no appropriate clothing. I did not speak properly. I did not have training in etiquette. I did not even know how to say please and thank you or chew with my mouth shut.? But none of that mattered when Connie donned the purple gloves. Her purple glove dreams fueled her dreams and provided her motivation for a better life.

Whenever Connie told anyone about her purple glove dreams, they laughed and mocked her. So she stopped sharing her dreams with them. She was determined, even though she admits, ?I didn?t know how I was going to succeed, but I didn?t care.?

While Connie?s parents raised her to embrace a lifestyle that included a traditional subservient marriage, Connie had other influences. One of her teachers, Mrs. Hazel, told her, ?No matter what anyone tells you, YOU are going to college.? The words stuck in her head. Another teacher, Mrs. Carter, posted a sign in her classroom that read, ?Believe. Act as if it is here now. Become.? Connie read those words everyday and embodied the concept.

In spite of the reality she lived and even though her parents had no interest in seeing her go to college, Connie dreamed of being an educated lady. As she grew into her teens, she envisioned a life where she worked in the city, in a high rise building, being smart, well-dressed, and doing something important. She told no one, but firmly believed it would happen.

Read the rest of Connie Harryman's Victorious experiences at http://www.victoriouswoman.com Click Victorious Woman link below.