Dreamers
By Kurt Wagner
Manuel's* dorm room is simple. No electronics. No clutter or clothes on the floor. No posters of millionaire athletes or bikini-clad supermodels.
In fact, the room is void of any decoration at all, except for dozens of brightly colored sticky notes hanging carefully on the wall surrounding the bedroom door. Dozens more grace the side of his armoire, adding vibrant pinks, blues and greens to the room's otherwise white, barren walls.
"Te Amo," meaning "I love you" in Spanish, is the message emblazoned upon most of the brightly colored squares, a daily reminder from Manuel's girlfriend, and decorating consultant. The room may be simple, but what it lacks in décor, it makes up for in meaning.
"I've never had the opportunity to have my own room to decorate, so I don't really know how to," chuckles Manuel, 22, as he leans back in his wooden desk chair. "And then whenever I want to or get in the mood to, I don't really have the money."
It is late May and Manuel, an undocumented immigrant at Santa Clara University, is less than two weeks from graduation. He had never had his own bedroom before coming to Santa Clara. After crossing the U.S.-Mexican border using his cousin's passport at age 3, Manuel spent the next 15 years sharing a bunk bed with his older sister while his mom and two brothers slept on the floor of their family's bedroom in an apartment in Southern California.
The three-bedroom apartment, which housed three families and 14 people in total with one bathroom, seems like a far cry from Manuel's single dorm room overlooking Santa Clara's beautifully manicured campus.
A few strides from the window, Manuel crouches down to remove a black guitar case from under the bed, a gift from his brother nearly four years ago. He opens the case to reveal a black acoustic guitar, the small white logo of his and his brothers' favorite Mexican rock band, "Jaguares," printed on the soundboard.
The guitar is one of Manuel's most prized possessions, but the gift came with a catch: Manuel could keep it only if he came back from Santa Clara with a college diploma.
And thanks to the Santa Clara Jesuit Community's million dollar scholarship program for undocumented immigrants, Manuel and 24 other undocumented students have been given the opportunity of a lifetime. But U.S. citizenship – and a job after graduation – still rest upon a dream.
The Scholarship
Manuel didn't believe Lorenzo Gamboa when he first called to tell him about Santa Clara's scholarship program for "students like him." Nor did he believe him the second time. Or third.
"They kept calling and insisting," said Manuel. "My mom was like, ‘Tell them thank you so much, but no thanks.'"
But when Manuel finally called back to politely decline the funding he was almost certain he couldn't legally accept, his life was changed forever.
Manuel was one of 25 undocumented immigrants enrolled at Santa Clara last year on a full need-based scholarship sponsored by the university's Jesuit community. The scholarship fund, which helps provide tuition, room and board for approximately four incoming freshmen and one transfer student or current Santa Clara upper classmen yearly, has an annual budget of over $1.2 million.
This year, the scholarship program has retained its size and continues to provide scholarship funding to 25 undocumented immigrants.
Gamboa, the Associate Director of Undergraduate Admissions at Santa Clara, works very closely with the incoming scholarship students, and is responsible for contacting the eligible students by phone.
"Educational institutions were founded to educate those who want to be educated," said Gamboa. "(It's) not just for those who have citizenship."
Many universities have some sort of scholarship established for undocumented immigrants, including the University of San Francisco, Harvard, Dartmouth, Seattle University and Occidental. But the program at Santa Clara is unique in that it is believed by many to be the most expansive and developed program of its kind within institutions of higher education.
The scholarship money available at other universities is usually for one student, said Gamboa. At Loyola of Chicago, undocumented students can complete a form through financial aid to be considered for private Loyola grants, but according to admissions counselors, that is the only assistance currently available. Other Jesuit institutions like Boston College and Fairfield University have no scholarship program at all, and Boston College's official stance states that illegal immigrants will not be accepted into the university.
"There are (no programs) that I am aware of that are similar," said Aaron Uchikura, assistant to the rector of Santa Clara's Jesuit community and one of the scholarship's organizers. "I feel like the program that we have here specifically for undocumented students is, in my understanding, probably the most comprehensive scholarship program offered."
Added Gamboa, "We're pretty much the national model."
Founded roughly 10 years ago, the scholarship program began to take form in 2005-06 as the financial need of the undocumented immigrant population became more prevalent in higher education due to tuition increases and a large undocumented population. At its height in 2007, Santa Clara's scholarship program supported 30 students.
Financial support for the scholarship comes straight out of Jesuit pockets. As professors and faculty members of the school, Jesuits salaries pay for necessities like rent, food and health care, but remaining funds must be given away to uphold the Jesuit vow of poverty, said Fr. Michael Zampelli S.J.,rector of Santa Clara's Jesuit community and head of the scholarship program.
According to Gamboa, the scholarship is not permanently set aside for undocumented students. The fund was established to supplement the costs of education for the "neediest group" of individuals, determined by the Jesuits for now, and for the immediate future, to be undocumented immigrants. The scholarship is need-based, meaning students pay what they can out of pocket and the scholarship covers the rest.
One argument of the scholarship's opponents centers on the financial decision to spend over $1.2 million on non-citizen students when many U.S. citizens struggle to meet Santa Clara's $48,000 annual bill. But funding spent on the undocumented scholars is private Jesuit money, not university money, thereby eliminating any resitrictions on its use.
While some may find the Jesuits' decision to fund these scholarships controversial, the passion and belief in the program is evident in all those involved.
"We can do whatever the hell we want. We're a separate corporation; we're a church organization" said Zampelli. "We can do what we want with our money."
Admissions employees are able to identify possible scholarship candidates by flags on their university application such as a lack of a social security number or a self-identified non-citizen, said Gamboa. The competition for the full scholarship is intense, with roughly 65 applicants annually for the five available scholarships. Applicants must first be admitted into the university, said Uchikura, who emphasized that only students who meet Santa Clara's admission standards are eligible for the funding.
Roughly 20 students are then invited to campus for a day of group and individual interviews with numerous Jesuits, faculty and current scholarship recipients.
For many undocumented immigrants, just traveling for interviews is a challenge. Felipe*, another scholarship recipient, drove from Arizona with his entire family for fear of being separated should something happen on the trip, sending his then-girlfriend in a car ahead of the family to check for immigration checkpoints along the way.
For Manuel, traveling from his home in Southern California meant traveling on an airplane for the first time, a frightening experience for a non-citizen.
But for those few who came away with a full scholarship, the trip was well worth the risk.
"It was the happiest, most craziest moment of my life," said Sofia*, a scholarship recipient who graduated last June. "You just can't believe someone saw something in you and is giving you the chance of a lifetime."
The Law
The three rectangular windows of Santa Clara Law Professor Cynthia A. Mertens' office stand slightly ajar to allow the California sunshine to filter through, reflecting off the numerous awards and certificates adorning the wall. Mertens herself sits next to a wooden cupboard decorated with framed photographs of family and friends as she flips through a binder containing the work from her latest project: a Ford Foundation Grant to study the education of undocumented students at Jesuit Universities.
The two-year, $200,000 grant was awarded in July of 2010 to Fairfield University's Center for Faith and Public Life. The goal: study the educational practices and challenges presented by Jesuit Universities educating undocumented students across the country.
Of the three schools conducting the study – Santa Clara, Fairfield and Loyola of Chicago – only Santa Clara has an established scholarship program for undocumented immigrants.
"I think that (Fairfield and Loyola) are shocked and impressed by what Santa Clara has been able to do," said Mertens. "I don't think there's the support that we give our students here at either of those schools. I think they'd like to have that support, but they don't quite know how to go about it."
When dealing with a situation as sensitive as illegal immigration, no research comes easy. Even quantifying the number of undocumented students in higher education is impossible because most students don't identify themselves out of fear of deportation, said Mertens.
"People are not coming forward," she said. "People are scared; it's a hush-hush sort of thing."
According to Mertens, undocumented students can legally enroll in many state universities, including schools in California, Texas and New Mexico, without their status coming into question. A California bill in 2001, AB540, even offers undocumented students in-state tuition if they complete three years of high school in California, receive a diploma, and sign an affidavit promising to apply for citizenship as soon as possible.
California has since been joined by 10 other states in passing in-state tuition policies – Illinois, Kansas, Nebraska, New Mexico, New York, Oklahoma, Texas, Utah, Washington and Wisconsin.
"We've come to the conclusion that there must be no great risk to the (universities) themselves for supporting these students," said Mertens.
Mertens has been a legal counsel to undocumented students at Santa Clara in years past, assisting when scholarship recipients face legal trouble such as driving without a license, automotive insurance issues in court, and retrieving cars from the impound lot to avoid expensive fees. As a non-citizen, undocumented immigrants are legally ineligible to receive a driver's license.
Mertens estimates that she has assisted students on 10-12 occasions over the past four years.
"I'm not a criminal lawyer, but I know enough to figure out how to help them through that system," said Mertens.
With Mertens, undocumented students have the law fighting on their side.
The Ignorance
Lorenzo Gamboa is no stranger to the issue of undocumented immigrants in higher education. Born in Texas, he is the son of undocumented immigrants from Mexico. He earned his Masters degree in Mexican American Studies from the University of Arizona, writing his 100-page thesis on undocumented students in higher education. He works in the Santa Clara admissions department, responsible for assisting those who receive scholarship money from the Jesuits.
And he knows of the dangers that can come just from helping students who are deemed illegal.
Gamboa has received phone calls and angry rants, spoken to donors who vow to take back contributions to the university, and was even on the wrong end of death threats after an article featuring then undocumented Santa Clara student Hector Vega made the front page at the San Jose Mercury News in 2006.
"If you're fighting a battle and nobody cares about it, are you really fighting a battle?" he said. "You know you're making a difference when people are fighting against you."
Gamboa's experiences reflect, at least in part, Santa Clara's campus and community culture in regards to undocumented immigrants at the University. For alumni of the conservative, religious institution, the Jesuit community falls on the wrong side of the fence when it comes to illegal immigration. Uchikura says he too has received calls and complaints, describing the culture at Santa Clara as "a mixed bag."
It is no surprise that many people find undocumented immigrants problematic to American society. A recent study in 2010 by the Federation for American Immigration Reform reported illegal immigrants cost the U.S. $113 billion per year, $52 billion of which is spent on the schooling of undocumented children. This report was contrary to a 2008 report by the Perryman Group, an economic and financial analysis firm in Texas that found illegal immigration actually benefits the American financial system. It estimated that illegal immigrants add $245 billion in GDP and account for 2.8 million jobs.
Some Santa Clara alumni would probably prefer to see scholarship funds finance those who will contribute more to the workforce and economy following graduation, a limitation of undocumented students due to their lack of a social security number.
It is this conflict that makes discussing the scholarship in public a rare occurrence. If a student were to call the admissions office of a school like USF, denying the scholarship's existence is "the official party line" in order to keep groups like the Board of Trustees or university donors happy, said Gamboa. Interested high school students would need to contact the appropriate person within the university, someone such as Gamboa, and could be discouraged by the lack of public information.
But overall, Santa Clara students seem unaware that undocumented students even exist, possibly in the seat right next to them or the room right across the hall. When Felipe told some of his friends about his situation last year, they laughed thinking it was a joke. Then, when advocating on campus for the Dream Act legislation, passersby told him "they don't belong here" and "go back to Mexico."
Sofia hears the subject discussed in her classes with students arguing against her very existence in the United States, unaware that an illegal immigrant sits among them as a peer.
And in one of Manuel's classes, his lab partner used the derogatory term "wetbacks," again unaware, Manuel said, of his situation as an illegal immigrant.
"If only she knew who she was talking to," he said.
It is this culture of ignorance that lends to fear among undocumented students revealing themselves to the public.
"There's a reason (it's kept quiet)," said Sofia. "As a family (of scholarship recipients), we take in those considerations and protect the people we care about."
Immigration status doesn't keep undocumented students from getting involved in the university, serving as the heads of campus organizations and contributing weekly volunteer hours throughout the community as part of their scholarship commitment to serve 10 hours per week.
"It's important that people take pride in what they have and what they're doing and are willing to sacrifice something," said Uchikura. "You've got to give a little to get a little. And they're giving a little and getting a lot."
But undocumented immigrants who have received an American education have no choice but to live under the radar following graduation until immigration reform allows them to utilize their education to better the society they now call home.
"I wish students knew the stories," said Fr. Jack Treacy S.J., Santa Clara's director of campus ministry. "Nobody should have to live in the shadows."
The Dream
Jessica* hates her job, not only because customers treat her like dirt, but because she is extremely overqualified to be working at Jack in the Box. Working in the fast food industry was never something Jessica aspired too, and in fact, most parents warn their children from an early age that going to college is the ticket to avoiding the "would you like fries with that" career path.
But not if you are illegal.
Jessica, an undocumented immigrant who graduated from Cal State Long Beach in 2008 with a degree in Psychology, is in her fourth year working at Jack in the Box, where she got a job using a fake social security number on her application.
Her current occupation has nothing to do with her work ethic or intelligence — she paid her way through two years of community college and two years at Long Beach while riding the bus two hours each way just to get to class — but instead has everything to do with her immigration status as "illegal" having come to the United States from Mexico as a 9-year-old with her mother.
And unfortunately for Jessica — and possibly Manuel, Felipe and Sofia — a legislation change remains necessary for undocumented students to capitalize on their education in the workforce.
"You feel like you're trapped," said Jessica, who is often frustrated to the point of tears. "You feel like, ‘What am I doing here?'"
Jessica is one of thousands of "dreamers" across the United States, people waiting on the passing of the Dream Act legislation to grant them the citizenship they so desperately need to survive and live freely in America. Under the proposed Dream Act which came to light in 2001, any student who entered the country before age 16 and lived in the U.S. at least five years before the legislation's enactment, graduated high school and was accepted into a two or four year accredited college or university, or serves 2 or more years in the military may apply for U.S. citizenship. Qualified beneficiaries must also have a clean criminal record.
But with the recent political shift in congress and an economy still recovering from recession, Dream Act advocates are skeptical. Most recently, the bill was voted down by the Senate in December meaning Dream Act hopefuls will likely have to wait at least two years before a real push at passing the bill into law. "Yeah I'm hoping for the Dream Act, but I'm also very disillusioned by it," said Manuel. "This last time that it was turned down, that was the ideal time that it could have been passed."
California bill AB130 was passed by the California Assembly and would allow for specialized financial aid packages for undocumented students attending public colleges or universities. Only students who also qualify for California's in-state tuition policy – AB 540 – would be eligible for the financial aid. The first part of the bill was signed by California governor Jerry Brown in July; the second part still awaits his signature.
In the meantime, undocumented immigrants continue to graduate from American universities without any real confidence in reaching the career of their dreams. Students are left with bleak options as financial assistance for graduate schools is even harder to come by. Even Santa Clara has nothing to offer scholarship recipients after graduation.
"Once you're outside of the privacy of this institution and support, that's where bigger questions come into play," said Uchikura, who knows students who have raised money to attend grad school, gone into teaching or non-profit organizations and even one former student who plays poker professionally.
Manuel hopes to one day put his engineering degree to use with an interest in earthquake design and has taken on multiple jobs to pay for graduate schooling at Santa Clara. Jessica wants to work as a mentor for Latino students or as a family and relationship counselor. Sofia would like to be a middle school teacher.
But without citizenship, these college educated graduates will work where they can, even at Jack in the Box. No matter how much support Santa Clara can provide to students as undergrads, at the end of four years, their journey will once again take them out into the real world where they are no longer "undocumented students" but "illegal immigrants."
"I have my direction, just not my path," said Sofia, smiling. "I'm still looking for my four leaf clover."
And maybe someday, that clover will come in the form of a dream.
A condensed version of this article first appeared on USATodayCollege.com. Contact Kurt Wagner at jwagner@scu.edu or (408) 554-4852.