He did all the right things—made good grades, applied to college, graduated from the University of Illinois at Chicago with a degree in architecture. But when it came to finding a job, Luis, 24, was hit with the reality that he was not a legal resident of the United States.

He has been working three years in a sandwich shop.

“You go up, but you’re still stuck,” he said.

Born in Mexico and brought to the states when he was 3, Luis is one of 13 undocumented students or graduates with whom News21 at Northwestern University corresponded on condition they would not be identified by their last names. Many were found through an online community for undocumented young adults, and some chose to contribute text and drawings to News21 to communicate their stories of frustration and disappointment.

For these young people, planning a future while pursuing college and high-level careers is a continuing struggle. Unable to receive financial aid or apply for jobs legally, they are pinning their hopes on the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act of 2009, or DREAM Act, which was reintroduced in Congress in March and would give them the opportunity for legal status.

The National Immigration Law Center, which supports immigrants’ rights, estimates there are 65,000 U.S.-raised undocumented students who graduate from high school each year and would be eligible for the DREAM Act’s benefits. Critics of the legislation, such as research director Steven Camarota of the Washington D.C.-based Center for Immigration Studies, said the bill could grant amnesty to many more people, possibly millions.

The new legislation would give certain undocumented people the opportunity to gain legal status if they went to college or joined the military for at least two years. The last time the act was proposed in the Senate in 2006, it lost by fewer than 10 votes.

Whether or not it is passed, the outcome will play a serious role in which direction these young people’s lives will take.

Their stories begin with their arrivals in the U.S., before any of them had reached the age of 15. They were often brought over by family, overstaying their work or tourist visas. Several had come legally and applied for residency, but said they were either defrauded by people posing as immigration lawyers or received bad legal advice.

“My father filed I-485’s for himself and my mother and I-817’s for my brothers and I. These documents were sent to the immigration office in Chicago. The I-817’s called for “supporting documents.” Following the advice of my father’s lawyer, these supporting documents were sent to the Orlando immigration office. My father protested the advice, but the lawyer insisted that it was the correct thing to do.

The I-817’s were rejected for lack of supporting documents after they were incorrectly sent to Orlando. To add insult to injury, once these forms were rejected there was no way to re-open the case by sending them back to the Chicago immigration office. Therefore, my brothers and I lost our one chance of hope of being able to fulfill our dreams in this country due to ill advice from our own immigration lawyer. When we asked him about this advice he insolently said to never mention it to him again.”

–Jonathan, 25, excerpt from a personal essay

“I remember how confused I was, and how much I did not want to be there,” wrote Yeny, 21, in a long essay. She was 14 when she left the border city of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico and traveled north to Las Cruces, New Mexico. “I begged, and begged my mom to let me stay with my grandma (who took care of me since I was born), that I would be fine; but she was to stay firm in her decision: we are a family, and we have to stick together.”

Yeny’s mother moved the family after someone was fatally shot outside their house in Ciudad Juarez, which was quickly growing into a nest for drug dealers, she wrote.

Maria, 24, came from Mexico in 1999 when she was 13, settling in Poughkeepsie, New York where her grandmother resides as a U.S. citizen. Maria’s grandmother tried filing the necessary forms for Maria’s parents through an immigration lawyer, she said. The family found out three years later that the person claiming to be an attorney had never filed the papers, leaving them in the country without documents and out more than $3,000.

Audio: Judy on hiding her status from friends

The realization of being undocumented was a late discovery for almost all of the respondents. Take Ille, 21, from South Korea, who found out during her junior year of high school. “After being enlightened of my immigration status, life seemed to become so much more rife with instability and anxiety,” she wrote in her essay. “I think a part of me blames all of the current stress in my life on gaining the truth because everything seemed to go downhill from that moment on.”

For Jonathan, 24, who arrived from Trinidad and Tobago when he was 7, the thought of his friends becoming doctors and lawyers while his future was on the line hurt his relationship with his parents. “It was unbearable to know that I may not even get an opportunity to attend college at all, and to never even have a chance to reach for any of the things I wanted to achieve in my life,” he wrote in a long essay. “That summer I sunk into depression and developed a form of anger against my parents for putting me in this situation and not being able to give me a better chance.”

Octavio Gonzalez, a legal assistant for Immigrants’ Rights Clinic at Stanford Law School, previously worked two years as a high school counselor in Chicago where he knowingly encountered four undocumented students. One of his students didn’t find out until applying to college. “When you are 15 or 16,” he said, “you don’t think about asking for your birth certificate.”

At Gonzalez’s school, students were taught that if they worked hard, they could go to college, he said. The problem, he added, comes when financing undocumented students’ education. Since they cannot receive federal student loans, they are often left paying full tuition. Only a handful of states, like Texas, California and Illinois, provide in-state tuition benefits for them, according to FinAid, an online source for student financial aid.

“Mijo tu no tienes papeles, eres inmigrante.” I remember when both my parents started to paint my situation to me. Both of them tried to explain it as nice as they could, even though they knew it was hurting me and I was hurting them with my disappointment. I was totally crushed.

I have to be clear, though, on something first. It wasn’t like my parents had not told me before, so it didn’t play out like a movie scene where the main character doesn’t see it coming. I guess for me I didn’t understand what it meant to be a nine-digit number. As an American I knew that there was opportunity here—many a times my history books taught me that this country had promise for anyone willing to put effort into bettering one self.

For the rest of the year in school it was part rebellion and part confusion. I still did well, but not excellent in school and I did stop dreaming big. It didn’t hit me all at once living undocumented; it came in bitter parts here and there.”

–Cristian, 23, excerpt from a personal essay

Ille is currently on her third leave of absence from college because she is again saving up to pay out-of-pocket for the next term of private school tuition.

Jonathan was able to go to community college, he wrote, but not until his father set up numerous appointments with school officials to find someone to look past his lack of proof of permanent residency.

Cristian, 23, born in Mexico, resorted to attending a community college where he could pay in-state tuition and learn how to repair air conditioners, a vocational skill that would give him better under-the-table income. His high school counselor was confused about why Cristian would want to service the machines instead of engineer them, Cristian wrote.

Audio: Michelle on not being able to get a driver’s license or job

Since the interviewees lack the legal documents for most jobs, their career options are usually quite limited, even if they do have a college degree, said Gonzalez.

“They will have a bachelor’s degree, which is pretty phenomenal,” he said. “But then their options are limited to ones that don’t ask for ID or don’t run a check on the Social Security number—service level jobs, janitorial—those types are what they are looking forward to.”

In Texas, Cintia, 24, got two bachelors’ degrees in microbiology and molecular genetic technology. During college, she participated in cancer research and became a co-author of research published in the journal, Cancer, she wrote in an email. She is now working 45 hours a week at a pizza place earning minimum wage.

A few of the respondents were able to find work related to their fields of study. Ille said she scoured Craigslist to find freelance positions doing design work that paid cash before an acquaintance of an acquaintance hired her to do computer work using Adobe Illustrator, a graphic design program. Luis also found freelance work at a small architectural firm, he said, but was laid off due to the economy.

Mike, 19, born in South Korea and brought over five years ago, said in an in-person interview that he could not get a night job because he cannot get a driver’s license or ID to prove he does not violate strict curfew laws in Chicago. He said police have handcuffed him on the street for breaking curfew, which is supposed to apply to teens under 17.

Audio: Mike talks about wanting to go to art school

Cristian was offered an air-conditioning-repair job during college, but since he could not legally take it, asked to have his work count as credit hours towards his certificate. After two months working in the hot summer sun fixing air conditioners, he has decided to try and save money to pursue an engineering degree. He pays taxes for his side jobs using an ITIN, a number issued by the Internal Revenue Service for people not eligible for Social Security numbers.

“Fast-forward to junior year, we officially became a couple. Our bond was stronger and we started to talk about college. Cristian was and is a very smart man, and although he didn’t know which one yet, he knew he wanted to go to a university.

We were at the age when we wanted to get our driver’s licenses, find our first jobs, and go to an R-rated movie. This is where I began to understand that although he has been in this country for most of his life, since he was 3 years old, he does not get to do the things that are most basic for a citizen. He couldn’t get a license, he couldn’t legally work in the U.S., and every R-rated movie poster was a reminder of his status.”

–Tatyana, 23, wife of undocumented student, Cristian, excerpt from a personal essay

As these undocumented young people consider their futures in the U.S., they have thought about what the DREAM Act would do for their lives.

Jonathan’s family has been tumbling into debt after scholarships for him and his two younger brothers were put on hold, he wrote. Their names were flagged during a government audit of their university, where Jonathan is studying mechanical engineering. Now paying full out-of-state tuition for three sons, his family is at risk of losing their home.

“I want nothing more than to help our situation, but it seems that every step I take we just fall further,” he wrote. “I feel hopeless and I carry this family financial burden constantly. I would like nothing more right now than to help my family.”

Judy, 18, who was born in South Korea, said she applied to many colleges like her friends, and got into every single one. But while her friends were able to apply for financial aid, she knew she had to pick the cheapest school because her parents could not afford the full cost of out-of-state or private tuition.

“I consulted lawyers and school advisors to ask about my situation, but unfortunately due to the current immigration laws/policies I would be asked to wait seven years for a work visa, have an employer pay $3,000 and be asked to go back to my country and re-enter and at that point I would be banned for 10 years since I overstayed my tourist visa.

No employer is interested in waiting seven years to legally hire lab personnel.”

–Cintia, 24, written in an email

The DREAM Act was originally introduced to Congress in 2001. Five years later, it was included as part of the Comprehensive Immigration Reform Act of 2006, but fell eight votes shy in the Senate of the 60 votes necessary to proceed with debate.

The bill would give undocumented people who entered the country before the age of 16 and have graduated high school six years of conditional permanent resident status. They would be given the chance to receive some student financial aid for college or join the military. After completing either two years of college or military service within the six-year period, they could apply for permanent resident status, according to the bill.

Eligible students would have to be under the age of 35, have no criminal record and be living in the U.S. at least five years consecutively prior to the passage of the bill. Those who have already fulfilled the college or military requirement if the bill passes could also apply for legal status.

When asked what they would do if the act did not pass, some said they would have to continue living their lives as they have without legal status. Others had not thought that far ahead, like Yeny, who is still wondering what will happen after she is done with college.

Ille decided she would move back to Korea if the DREAM Act did not pass by the time she earned her college degrees.

Audio: Elizabeth talks about the DREAM Act

Some of the respondents could not fathom the idea of the act not passing.

“Oh my god. That’s a very big question,” said Maria. “I’m just continuing pushing and pushing.”

“I can’t believe that that would even…” said Luis, before he cut himself off and considered the possibility of going back to Mexico. For now, he said he just keeps trying not to become a cynic and bitter with his life. “I’m living under the illusion that things will change because that’s all I have.”

Read the full essays of the respondents:

Luis asks who is an American

What keeps Jonathan up at night

Cristian decides on engineering vs repairing

Cristian’s wife Tatyana on her marriage

Yeny from Juarez excels in New Mexico

Meena is rejected by college

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Tags: career, DREAM Act, education, immigrants, immigration reform, multimedia, students, undocumented

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