What does an immigration lawyer do when a client’s most urgent problem isn’t immigration law, but insulin?

That was one of the questions confronting Mexican and U.S. law students gathered at the Tecnológico de Monterrey’s Guadalajara campus August 12 for a binational exercise examining what happens after deportation.

The singers in the Jalisco State Choir (Coro del Estado de Jalisco) have been riding a seesaw since early this year, but nobody is having much fun. 

This year’s rainy season has already toppled some 750 street trees that have also come crashing down, their shallow roots unable to withstand the fierce winds and saturated soil. You can add to that tally 350 trees across the city’s parks and green spaces — 160 in a single storm alone. 

In the first weeks of the new school year, I walk around the campus observing the new students from all over the world: San José, Costa Rica; Managua, Nicaragua; Cali, Colombia; Johnson City, Tennessee; Nogales, Arizona; the Virgin Islands; Tanzania and Ontario.  Usually I speak with them briefly: a word or two of welcome, of encouragement, and then move on.  There are many things I would like to say, but they would not be heard because each has retreated into a private place that cannot be touched, and what is on show is only a mask that hides the real person.  They have not yet discovered who they are in this new world.

Fan of “Toy Story”? Have five minutes of spare time? Then take a look at Toystorytetic — a story of “love and courage” between traditional Mexican toys, filmed on location in San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas.

At a recent Friday-night gathering in Guadalajara, the assignment was simple: roll your own Vietnamese spring rolls, pour a drink, meet someone new — and help support migrants and refugees.