Having to “take a quarter” off was never part of the plan.
Four years in at UCLA, Laura had saved enough money every quarter to pay for tuition on her own. But in the fall of her fourth year, money fell short and she was left with few alternatives.
It was the first time in her four years that her plan for graduating from UCLA strayed off course.
As an undocumented student, Laura, who requested anonymity because of her residency status, had little say in deciding whether to come to the U.S.
She was 7 years old when she first stepped onto American soil with her mother and younger brother. There was little pomp or ceremony during those early moments, because for the rest of their lives, Laura and her family would be living in the U.S. illegally.
“(My brother and I) were kids, so we didn’t really know what was going on,” she said. “None of us really wanted to move, all we knew was that we had to.”
Laura’s mother was born and raised in Mexico and had a deep connection with the country in which she wanted to raise her children, Laura said. However, when she divorced Laura’s father, she faced a serious decision: stay in Mexico but give up custody to the children’s wealthier father, or emigrate.
“She decided to move us to America and live with our grandparents,” she said. “We grew up thinking of ourselves as Americans, with still a strong tie to Mexico.”
Laura’s status is common among undocumented students, who without the ability to receive financial aid, have to rely solely on private scholarships and their own funds to pay for tuition. Having to sometimes take a quarter or more off is a matter of necessity.
Grecia Mondragon, an undocumented student and member of Improving Dreams, Equality, Access and Success, an advocacy group for undocumented students, said she knows several students who have faced the same situation, sometimes more than once. It was only this past fall that Mondragon was able to attend school, and solely because of some last-minute scholarships.
“I waited till the last moment to enroll, and when I got those scholarships that made all the difference,” she said.
She is currently deciding whether or not she will attend school in the spring.
Like Mondragon, Laura has had to rely on private scholarships as well as working the same jobs she’s always worked: odd jobs as a restaurant hostess, waitress and private tutor. Without a Social Security card, they were the only jobs available to her as she tried to garner enough in wages to support herself, and eventually, return to school.
During the time she had to take off from school, Laura found a support group on campus in the form of IDEAS.
Laura joined IDEAS member Edna Monroy and others in the AB-540 Project, where she began mentoring undocumented high school students at an off-campus site.
The people who have come to know Laura have been quick to lend their support, as well.
It’s been three years since she moved in with the family of a former co-worker who lives near UCLA. In them, Laura found a second family, away from her home in Orange County but close enough to the school she loves.
It was a surprise relationship that blossomed out of small coffee breaks and late-night chats, allowing her to avoid the three-hour commute from Orange County she had originally considered.
It wasn’t too long before the family began joking about its newly adopted child, Laura.
“It went from them saying I was adopted to saying that I was their daughter,” Laura said.
The family was especially supportive when, this past fall, the national Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act failed. When Laura arrived home, she was quiet. Of her years at UCLA, it was probably the most disappointed she’d felt, she said.
“Without having to say anything, they knew what I was feeling,” she said.
The bill would have allowed undocumented residents to apply for private student loans and find a path to citizenship upon completing a two- or four-year degree or two years’ service in the military.
Laura said she hopes the DREAM Act will eventually pass in the state and national legislatures, but until then she will continue to make the best of her situation.
“I’ve begun to formulate my own idea about the “˜American dream,'” she said.
“I’m not disillusioned or anything like that. I love this country, and I want to contribute to its greatness. I think that’s what citizenship is all about.”