Leaving her alcoholic father behind in Mexico City, Nora and the
rest of her family crossed the Mexico/California border illegally
one night, about 11 years ago.
She was asleep with her 8-year-old sister and 5-year-old brother
in the back of a car that was driven over when the hired driver
presented the border patrol with fake U.S. birth certificates. They
were probably let in after the driver had lied to border-patrol,
saying that their parents were already in the United States.
“You can say so-and-so is your parent and here’s
your birth certificate, so you are a (U.S.) citizen,” Nora
said, seated cozily in a corner of the Student Activities Center
foyer. “That was in 1993, when you could easily do that, but
now it’s more stringent.”
That was when the now-fifth-year mathematics student Nora
arrived in the United States. For her protection, Nora is
identified only by her first name. She has recently applied for
permanent residency.
She was 10 years old then. She didn’t speak a word of
English. She didn’t know where she was going (maybe to live
with her uncles) and she didn’t know what was ahead of her
(maybe a better life than in Mexico), but from her first day of
school in Los Angeles, she could tell it wouldn’t be
easy.
Nora is one of 7.5 to 9.5 million undocumented immigrants in the
United States, according to a 2002 survey conducted by the Urban
Institute, a nonprofit research organization. She is also one of
about 7,000 to 13,000 undocumented college students who have
resided in the country for five or more years, the
institute’s research shows.
These thousands of students struggle to get a college education
while living at a crossroads in U.S. history ““ a time when
anti-immigrant sentiment still lingers from the aftermath of
Sept.11, 2001, and a time when pending federal legislation could
put them on a path to permanent residency.
With her thickly accented and slightly broken speech, it’s
not difficult to tell that English is not Nora’s first
language. But get her started on issues of education and
immigration, and the words begin to roll right off her tongue.
Less than great expectations
Nora spent sixth, seventh and eighth grades studying from the
same books ““ one book for beginning math, one for beginning
science and one for beginning English. She had been placed in ESL
(English as a second language) courses when a teacher realized Nora
couldn’t understand her; the only word Nora knew at the time
was “raincoat,” she said.
Soon, Nora realized she and her ESL classmates at her South
Central middle school were stuck. No one expected much of them.
“There’s this belief that, “˜Because they
don’t know English they don’t know anything,’ so
they would give the same book for sixth, seventh and eighth grade
… and there wasn’t nothing different,” she said.
“We had to copy whatever the book said and that was a way of
learning I guess, but I didn’t learn anything.”
During the last semester of her eighth grade, Nora was
transferred from her ESL courses to regular courses.
The “harsh transition” was a shock to her, she said,
going from Spanish-speaking classrooms and undemanding subjects to
classrooms in which her English-speaking teachers expected nothing
but the worst from her and didn’t hesitate to tell her
so.
“The teachers had the ideology that ESL students were the
rowdiest and they don’t want to learn. So the first time we
went into history class, the teacher was expecting that we’d
go running and throw furniture … and that’s actually what
happened,” she said matter-of-factly.
“When this teacher has this expectation, that’s what
you end up doing,” she said.
But there was one teacher in Nora’s last semester of
eighth grade that made all the difference.
His name was Mr. Anderson, a pre-algebra teacher, Nora said.
He used to say, “”˜You can move into algebra and
geometry,’ and he had all these expectations that any other
teachers didn’t,” she said, crediting her pre-algebra
teacher for the degree choice she made in college.
Finding the resources
Nora’s family lived in a one-bedroom apartment on Figueroa
Street. Nora’s mother and her three children shared the room
and a bed. The living area was bare. They didn’t have much
furniture; they had to make ends meet on her mother’s
minimum-wage salary.
Her mother worked in a factory, sewing, ironing, and trimming
““ she got paid by the garment, not the hour. She didn’t
get paid overtime.
The factory eventually got shut down for labor violations, she
said. Her mother now works in a different factory ““ a factory
that doesn’t commit any violations other than hiring
undocumented workers, Nora said, laughing.
So when it came to paying for her college education, Nora knew
her mother was a not a source she could go to.
Nora would have “to come up with money to pay for school
because I didn’t think (my mom) would be able to afford it
because (she was) paying for rent, buying us lunch and still
dressing us,” she said.
Though Nora obtained a job washing dishes at a local fast food
restaurant to pay for her non-resident tuition in Santa Monica
Community College, she didn’t have to wait long until she got
some help from the state government.
In 2001, then-Gov. Gray Davis signed Assembly Bill 540 into law,
allowing undocumented students who had, among other things,
attended a California high school for three or more years to be
eligible to pay in-state fees. With some hesitation, the UC
implemented the law in spring 2002 and Nora (having lobbied to get
the bill passed) entered UCLA in winter 2003.
The bill has generally been a success in its ability to attract
more undocumented students, said Belen Bernal, a representative for
Assemblyman Marco Firebaugh, D-South Gate, who introduced the bill
in 2001. Though there is no formal statewide data to corroborate
the assessment, Bernal said, from the statistics available, it is
apparent that the bill has been beneficial.
Statistics are hard to come by because the UC does not formally
keep record of the amount of undocumented students enrolled, said
Ravi Poorsina, a spokeswoman for the UC Office of the
President.
She added that documentation status does not factor into the
admissions process and the UC considers a student’s
qualifications over anything else.
While in high school, Nora never imagined that she could attend
college without a Social Security number or a legal residency card,
but is grateful for the admissions policy and state regulations
that gave her an opportunity to attend her top-choice
university.
Dreams, still up in the air
Though a college education is feasible without legal
documentation, obtaining a well-paying job ““ even with a
college degree ““ is difficult.
Nora wants desperately to be a math teacher, but she knows if
the current law is not changed, her chances of achieving her dreams
are slim.
Pending legislation in Congress would change Nora’s and
thousands of other immigrant students’ situations and place
them on a path to permanent residency.
According to the bipartisan legislation, the Development, Relief
and Education for Alien Minorities Act (or Dream Act), undocumented
students who came to the United States prior to age 16, lived in
the country for at least five years and have good standing with the
law would be placed under a six-year conditional residency.
Though the act passed the Judiciary Committee and awaits
approval of the Senate, Congress may have to reconvene in its next
term before the legislation can pass.
After the six years, the students could become permanent
residents if they join the military, obtain associate’s
degrees or complete two years toward their bachelor’s
degrees.
This is in no way a blanket amnesty, say the bill’s
sponsors and prospective beneficiaries. Instead, it recognizes
their contributions.
“Thousands of children of undocumented immigrants have
graduated from our high schools. Most came to America as children,
playing no part in the decision to enter the United States, and may
not even know they are here illegally,” the bill reads.
“The Dream Act does not guarantee any illegal immigrant
the right to remain in the United States. … However, it does give
some who have been acculturated in the United States the privilege
of earning the right to remain,” it also states.
Others disagree
But some legislators believe the Dream Act may unintentionally
encourage illegal immigration.
“This legislation would provide an additional incentive
for illegal immigration. If we were to pass this, it would be a
statement to the world that we have no intention of enforcing
immigration laws,” said Sen. Jeff Sessions, R-Ala., to the
Los Angeles Times.
A wave of uncertainty clouds Nora until the Dream Act passes. It
would benefit her siblings too. Her brother is a high school senior
and wants to go to college, she says. But her sister avoided
college after witnessing the difficulties she saw Nora undergo.
For now, Nora will concentrate on finishing her degree and
graduating in the summer, she said as she hurried off. She was late
for her class.