Dream on hold

They're often infants or toddlers when they come to the United States, sneaked into the country by their illegal immigrant parents.

They grow up in America. They eat french fries, hang out at the mall, speak Americanized English. They feel like U.S. citizens.

But they're not.

And that's a roadblock if these teens and young adults - who are considered illegal immigrants just like their parents - want to pursue a college education or military service.

Proposed federal legislation - the Development Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act - would provide legal status to those who came to the United States as children and who meet certain criteria. The legislation, known as the Dream Act, has been introduced several times in Congress since 2001.

Supporters argue that most of the children had no say in whether they came to the United States.

Those who oppose the bill say it rewards lawbreakers.

For the first time, however, some of the young illegal immigrants who would be affected by the Dream Act are publicly "coming out," acknowledging their status and pushing for the bill's passage. Their acts range from staging sit-ins in Washington, D.C., to a 10-day hunger strike in New York City.

Yet despite the activism and attention being paid to the Dream Act, there's very little chance it will pass this year, experts said.

During a July session with journalists in Washington, Jeanne Butterfield, senior adviser with National Immigration Forum, said finding enough congressional support will be nearly impossible.

"Where do you get votes from?" she asked. "It's going to require political backbone and courage to do any of this."

The bill should not pass as it now stands, said Roy Beck, executive director of Numbers USA, an organization that he credits with helping kill the bill in the past.

First, it doesn't tackle the problem that the children's parents were allowed to work illegally in this country and bring their kids with them, he said. The bill also would encourage more immigration and doesn't do enough to prevent fraud, he said.

'I don't expect anything too big'

Olga couldn't get a driver's license or a job.

Now that's she graduating from high school, she may not be able to go to college.

"I want to live a normal life. I want to be a normal person," said the 17-year-old high school senior at her home in Calhoun, Ga.

"I don't expect anything too big," she said. "The simple life is fine with me, just having a nice job, a nice home and being happy is all I wish for."

Olga's parents illegally brought her to the United States from Mexico when she was 3. Being undocumented means she can't legally work or drive.

Although her roots are in Mexico, she doesn't remember much about it or about coming to the U.S. Mostly she feels as if she's always been here.

"This is my home, where I grew up," she said, speaking perfect English. "I know almost every street. I know where you can find the best fries, all my friends are here."

As a senior, she's a straight-A student involved in sports, including track and soccer, and a member of the National Honor Society.

But as her graduation date approaches, she knows the path to college will not be easy. She saw her older sister - who was brought to the U.S. at 14 - take on the fight but ultimately abandon her dream.

"I remember her coming home very upset because she really wanted to continue her studies," Olga said. "But it was impossible for her to do that, and I told myself I didn't want to be like that. I want to do something with my life."

Ever since she dressed as a teacher for a second-grade school play, Olga knew exactly what she wanted to be. Being in the classroom is a joy, she said.

"I don't go to school dreading it," she said. "I enjoy being there and learning, and being a teacher means I would never leave it."

But without legal status she must pay out-of-state tuition at a Georgia college, which costs about three times as much as in-state. Loans or financial aid are almost impossible to get, again because she can't prove her legal status. So she must consider her options, whether to return to Mexico or remain in the U.S. illegally.

She lives expecting the worst but hoping for the best.

"At times my hope is lost, but my mom tells me you never know what can happen, you have to keep trying," she said.

She respects the immigrant teens who have come out support the Dream Act but isn't ready to do it herself.

"I usually don't tell anyone [I'm an illegal immigrant] unless I'm asked, but if I'm not, I keep it to myself," she said. "I'm always fearful, but I admire [the teens who have come out] for wanting to open up and do something."

She said she can't understand why the Dream Act - her only chance to legalize her status - doesn't pass. She realizes that she broke the law coming here, but "we are all humans; we are created equal; we should all have the same chance."

WHAT IS THE DREAM ACT?The Development Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act would give conditional legal status to unauthorized youths who:* Entered the United States before age 16; have been continuously present in the country for at least five years before the legislation's enactment; obtained a high school diploma or its equivalent; are less than 35 years old.* After six years, youths could apply for lawful permanent residence if they complete at least two years of higher education or honorably served in the U.S. military and maintained good moral character.* Immigrants who fail to meet these requirements would lose their conditional status and revert to being unauthorized.Source: Migration Policy InstituteFAST FACTS* The law's enactment immediately would make 726,000 unauthorized young adults eligible for legal status.* Of those, about 114,000 would be eligible for permanent legal status after the six-year wait because they already have at least an associate degree.* Another 934,00 potential beneficiaries are children under 18 who will grow into conditional-status eligibility in the future, provided they graduate from high school or get a General Educational Development certificate.Source: Migration Policy Institute

'Not the way I want to live'

Abril received the letter that many high school seniors long to get. In fact, she got several of them.

She was accepted to the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, to the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, to Tennessee Wesleyan College in Athens, Tenn., among others.

The first in her family to graduate from high school, Abril finished with a 3.1 grade-point average and was in junior ROTC and soccer. She wants to become a U.S. soldier and study criminal justice.

"I want to be able to know I have succeeded in my life, that I have become a soldier and I studied criminal justice and work," she said, sitting in her Chattanooga home. "Living check by check is not the way I want to live."

The 19-year-old, who was 3 when her parents brought her illegally from Mexico to the United States, knew she couldn't afford college without scholarships or financial aid. But there are very few scholarships or loans that don't require legal status.

So last summer, after she graduated from high school, she headed to Chattanooga State Community College to register for basic English and math.

"How are you going to pay?" a school official asked.

She was told that she could pay $1,000 that day and about another $1,000 the next week.

"It was harsh. I cried in the parking lot," she said. "I was slapped with the reality of what I needed to do to go to college."

Her uncle tried to get more overtime at his job, while other relatives sold cars and televisions to help her pay for school. But even that wasn't enough. So she found a minimum-wage job that will allow her to save money and eventually pay for those two classes.

Although she admires the immigrant students who have come out, every time one gets arrested, she wonders: What if it were me?

Last year, she considered returning to Mexico and applying to return legally to the U.S. but was frightened by the possibility that she couldn't come back.

"I barely speak Spanish, plus I don't know anybody over there," she said. "All of my family is here, my brother is sick and my family depends on me [to take him to] doctor's appointments or whatever."

Staying in Chattanooga without a chance of fulfilling her dreams has been a constant struggle. When her old high school friends ask her what she's doing, she cuts the conversation short. It's too painful to keep repeating, "nothing, I'm just working."

And her 16-year-old sister is following in her footsteps, both in her school involvement and the challenges of being an unauthorized teen.

"It hurts to see she's going through the same situation than I am," Abril said. "She wants to be a doctor and maybe she won't be able to [do that] either."

Every time the Dream Act is introduced and fails, she loses a little more hope.

"It's disappointing because I see that you have a perfect student here and you can't do anything about it but wait and see what the government does," she said.

"You have people dropping out, wanting to work at a McDonald's for the rest of their lives and you have thousands and thousands of kids who aren't from here but have lived here and are as much Americans as anybody else but can't fulfill the American dream," she said with tears in her eyes.

When she was a junior in high school, she always thought something would happen by the time she graduated, that God would give her something.

"But once I graduated, all doors were shut," she said. "It was like kissing everything I wanted goodbye."

Contact Perla Trevizo at ptrevizo@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6578. Follow her on Twitter at twitter.com/Perla_Trevizo.

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