Hi—my name is Ivonne Aguilera and I would like to share my story.

My parents brought me and my brothers to this country at a young age. I was eight years old; my sister was four; my brother was twelve. We were all young, but one thing I do remember is that we were coming to Chicago to see my dad. My dad had two years living in Chicago already, but that wasn’t the first time he has been here in the U.S. He actually was here in ’87, if I am not mistaken. Anywho, I was brought here when I was 8 years old like I had mentioned and I remember when we arrived to Chicago. It was a beautiful place in my eyes—a place I never imagined in my life that I would come to—but thanks to my parents I made that trip and it completely changed m life.

I think it had been about two weeks since we arrived when my mom signed us up for school. I was scared at first because people around me were speaking a language I had never heard before, but I was also excited. Thankfully the school my mom signed us up for had a bilingual program and the teacher spoke English and Spanish. I began school at the same grade I was when I left Mexico—the 5th grade.

I wasn’t the only student who didn’t speak English because most of the class was in my same shoes. I learned English so fast that I think by my 3rd month or so I was speaking a little bit. I really liked the language and it was a piece of cake for me, but I think it was because I was young. I was in the bilingual program for 2 years—the 5th and 6th grade. In 7th grade I was put in a regular English class. To be honest, it wasn’t hard at all for me; I adapted to the language and this country so fast. I finally made it to my 8th grade; thus far, for me that was the best year. I graduated 8th grade as a Principal Scholar and Leadership student. My parents were proud.

I began High School in the year 2006. I attended a Charter School—it was really good but also very strict. It was hard, but I got use to it. All those years in school for were like nothing—in my mind I was another person; another student trying to go to school. But it wasn’t until my sophomore year when I found out that I was undocumented. Why? Because a lot of my friends were getting their state ID and so on. I wanted also wanted to get my ID, so I came home and told my mom and she said to me that I couldn’t. I asked why and she said it’s because you are undocumented. I was confused at first, but then they explained it to me and I understood.

However, I didn’t let that stop me. I kept on doing what I was doing. Also, I was part of a program called T.E.A.M (Tutoring to Educate for Aims and Motivation) in the Erie Neighborhood House. I was part of the program all four years in my high school. Finally my senior year came; I was excited that I was going to graduate, go away to college and all, but one thing I never thought was that just a nine-digit number was going to be my problem.

I remember when it was time to fill out the FAFSA, all my classmates pulling out their information and their parents’ also, but it wasn’t until it came to it being my turn and I couldn’t provide any of the information needed. Next class, when we walked in the teacher said “Take your laptop, log in, and get started”, she came to me and about five more students in class and said to us “Sit all the way in the back, only let the students who can fill this out sit in front so we can help them.” In my mind, I was like “wow.” I felt ashamed, mad; I wanted to walk out of class—I didn’t want to be there. At that very moment, my world crashed, the teacher also said “Find something to do, or keep yourself busy, if I have a chance I will work with you guys.” For me that was it; I was done. I stopped applying to schools, scholarships and all. I gave up—I didn’t even try in that class. The only thing I did was get my work done and pass the class. It was like that for me the entire semester.

A couple of days passed. I was walking down the hallway and I bumped into the school principal. He said to me “Hey, Ivonne,” I said “yeah, Hi” and he said to me: “We received a scholarship from Erie House that was given to you, but I unfortunately have to inform you that we decided not to give it to you because you don’t meet any of the requirements.” I said “a scholarship? I didn’t even know. What were the requirements?” He said “For the student to be a citizen or resident. So, we decided to give it to another student. Sorry about that—maybe next time.” Then he walked away. I wanted to cry; I wanted to walk out and not be there. But I didn’t; I told myself that I was going to keep my head up high because I have nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn’t until I came home and told my parents about it that I just broke down. I was mad at myself, my parents and the world.

At that moment I wished I didn’t exist, but thanks to my mom I was able to get back up and not give up. Why? Because she used my brother as an example and said to me anything is possible. My brother was (and presently is) attending Dominican University, and thanks to the school and private donors he has all his four years paid off. I took my brother as my example and picked myself right back up. Even though I picked myself right back up, I still wasn’t in the mood to apply for schools or scholarships. So I stopped—all I did was make sure I passed all my classes and graduate.

Finally, June 12, 2010 came. It was graduation day. I graduated from high school. I didn’t graduate with honors or anything fancy, but what was important to me was that I graduated. I graduated high school. I graduated high school with no idea of where I was going to school, but I knew sometime later I was going to figure it out. After my high school graduation I had my T.E.A.M graduation. I graduated from the program because I began my freshman year there until my senior year. Little did I know that T.E.A.M would raise money since the beginning of the first year for any student until their senior year. All the money they raised was use to give each student a scholarship to attend college. That same night, the day of graduation, was when I found out, thank God I had some money that would help me attend college, but that wasn’t it.
The same night of graduation they gave out awards and so forth. I remember how the year before that my brother was given the most important award of the night called “El Corazon De Oro” and I said to myself “I wonder who will be getting that award this year”. A few minutes after that my parents asked me do you know who will get “El Corazon De Oro” and I said that I didn’t.

Twenty minutes after that, they began giving out the awards, finally it came to the most important award, they began off by giving a story of a young girl who was a great example and so on, so I said, “well I guess it’s a girl.” Right after that I hear them say “Ivonne Aguilera.” I was in shock; my eyes got watery and my parents jumped out of their seats; my dad began yelling “Yeah, woohoo, Ivonne” and my mom was crying. I was called up to the stage with my mentor and handed the award by the person who gave it out. It wasn’t until then that I found out that receiving the “Corazon De Oro” you were also to receive $500 added to your scholarship. I was happy—at the end I found out I received a scholarship of $2,500. Yes, I was happy.
I went on with my summer like normal—enjoying it, having fun and all—until July, when my mother asked me where I was going to school. I said that I didn’t know. She said to me that she didn’t care where I went—what she wanted was for me to go to school. She began being a pain in my butt about school and then forced me to go to Harold Washington College to apply. I applied and from there—I followed every step to sign up for classes. Unfortunately, all classes were full and I was sent over to Truman College, where I was able to sign up for classes.

Thankfully, I worked in the summer and saved up money to pay for school. My tuition was $1,400 and since the school offered payment plans I was able to pay it off. I first had to pay 30% of the total amount and then had three months to pay the rest off. So, every month I was making payments of $295. Thankfully I had (and have) a job, so I was able to pay it all off by myself because my parents didn’t have money to help me pay. For the second semester, I transfer to Harold Washington because it was closer to my house. But there, unfortunately, I was only able to get into one class because I was only able to afford one. For one class I paid $400 and also did a payment plan.

Ever since my second semester I have been going to schools to find out how fast I can finish because I want to be a nurse, but many of the schools I have gone to have rejected me. Why? Because I don’t have a nine-digit number. I haven’t let that stop me—I have been looking and looking and thankfully I came across St. Augustine College. I went to check it out; they don’t have a nursing program but they offer a Bachelors’ of Science in Respiratory Therapy. I asked if being undocumented was going to be a problem and they said no, so now I plan to attend St. Augustine College in the fall. I am expected to graduate in 3 years, which I am excited about, but since tuition is pricey I am still trying to figure out how I am going to pay $4,250 per semester. I am also not letting that stop me from going to school. I have had my ups and down, but just because I don’t have a nine-digit number, I am not letting that stop me from going to school.

And it starts all over again — saving students from deportation one private bill at a time.. Until Congress passes the DREAM Act, the future of thousands of students who simply want to contribute to the United States, hangs in limbo.

Source: St. Louis Dispatch

In the summer of 2003, Noe Guzman and his family — his mom, stepfather and baby sister — moved to New Haven from a small town in Michigan. Noe (pronounced Noah) had just turned 12 and was entering seventh grade. That might be a rough age to enter a new school — especially a small school where everybody has known everybody forever — but it didn’t seem to bother Noe. He was the only Hispanic kid in the class, but that didn’t bother him, either. He quickly made friends, and when he graduated two years later, he was salutatorian of the class.

High school has been more of the same. Now in the second semester of his senior year, he has been on the honor roll every semester. “He has an outstanding record of academics here,” said Rhonda Helling, a teacher at New Haven High School.

He has also been a pretty good cross-country runner. This year, though, he needed gallbladder surgery and couldn’t run. That didn’t stop him from supporting the team. “A lot of kids, if they couldn’t compete, would just drop out,” said John Tucker, the cross country coach and a history teacher. “But not Noe. He became the manager. He made sure the runners had water, and he was our biggest cheerleader.”

Noe also is a member of the student council and of the Future Business Leaders of America.

He wants to be a doctor. In other words, Noe is a small-town kid with big dreams. Sadly, Noe’s dreams are in the process of unraveling. That process began when Noe decided to join the Marine Corps.

By the way, the Marine Corps is filled with young men from small towns who decided that the service was a way to kick-start their dreams. That’s why the Marines send recruiters to small-town high schools. When the recruiters visited New Haven High, they set up a pull-up bar. Do 20 pull-ups and get a Marine Corps T-shirt. Noe did 22 pull-ups. “Have you ever thought about the Marine Corps?” a recruiter asked.

Yes, he had. “I love adventure,” he told me last week.

So this summer he went to the recruiter in nearby Washington and said he’d like to sign up for a delayed enlistment. He’d head to boot camp once he graduated from high school in May. No problem. The recruiter drove him to St. Louis to take the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery test. Noe did very well.

He returned Aug. 13 to take his physical. He was at the Robert Young Federal Building with other young people in the process of enlisting when a man in civilian clothes led Noe to a room. “Did you really think you could get away with this?” he asked.

“He looked angry,” Noe said. “I almost laughed. I think I said, ‘You must have the wrong guy.’”

Noe said the man told him to stand up and put his hands behind his back. The man handcuffed him, then shackled his feet. “Do you know what kind of trouble you’re in?” he asked Noe. He led Noe to another room.

A man from Immigration and Customs Enforcement was in the second room. Noe said he was calm and polite. The military had collected all of Noe’s identification, and now the man from ICE put Noe’s Social Security card in front of him. “This number does not belong to you,” he said.

Noe didn’t understand. He had used that Social Security number for work purposes. He had used that number when he filed taxes.

The man from ICE told Noe he was an illegal alien. Noe was stunned. He knew he had been born in Mexico; he had a vague memory of moving to the States with his mother at age 4. But illegally? The man from ICE told Noe that he could deport him right then. But he didn’t. Instead, he told Noe to call his mother.

She drove to St. Louis. She told Noe that yes, he was an illegal immigrant. Your father was abusive, and I needed to get us away from him, she said. She had purchased the Social Security card once they arrived in this country.

Noe was released on his own recognizance. He was given a court date in October, and then one in December. Both times, he appeared without a lawyer — his mother and stepfather have little money. He now has a court date in February.

I visited him Wednesday after school. I asked if he were really completely surprised when he learned he was here illegally. “Oh yes,” he said. “I never had any doubt I was a citizen.”

He said he had been told he had little chance of avoiding deportation. He said he had been told he would need to meet three criteria — 10 years’ residence in this country, no criminal record and somebody dependent upon him. He said nobody was dependent upon him.

He has an appointment Monday with a lawyer named Katie Herbert Meyer. She works for Interfaith Legal Service. I called her Friday afternoon. I told her what Noe had said about the criteria he would need to meet to stay in this country. Maybe if he had gotten married instead of trying to enlist he’d be all right, I said.

No, she said, a person facing deportation can file an application for cancellation of removal. That requires 10 years of residence, good moral character, a qualifying family member — parent, spouse or child — who is a citizen or a lawful permanent resident. Finally, the applicant must demonstrate that there would be an “exceptional and extremely unusual” hardship to that family member if the applicant were to be deported. Meyer said immigration judges were very strict when interpreting hardships.

It does not sound like Noe would qualify, I said.

Meyer said she had not been hired but would explore the situation when they met Monday for the initial consultation. “He is the exact type of person who would be helped if the Congress would pass the DREAM Act,” she said.

The Developmment, Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act was introduced in 2005 and would provide a path to legal residency for young people brought here as children, who fulfill requirements such as graduating from high school and attending college or serving in the military.

There is little chance of that passing in two weeks, I said.

“This is part of the broken immigration system you hear about,” she said.

I spoke with Carl Rusnok, the director of communciations for the central region of ICE. He said he could only confirm that Noe Guzman was referred to ICE after a Military Entrance Processing Station determined his Social Security number was fraudulent, and that his immigration hearing was scheduled for Feb. 3.

Noe said the waiting was tough. “Every day I look at the calendar and I think it might be another day closer to the last day I can be with my friends.”

We were able to get Noe some more legal support in the past few weeks. Stay tuned for updates on this case and possible action alerts.