::In the midst of the latest Congressional push for immigration reform, the debate over illegal immigration is becoming more heated than ever before. This is the third of a three-part series on illegal immigration in Arizona and its effects on the state, the economy and the University.::
As a child, Celso would accompany his father, a landscaper, to work on Saturdays, an experience he said was instrumental in shaping his life’s ambitions.
“He’d make me work hard, he wouldn’t go easy on me,” said Celso, a 22-year-old undocumented immigrant who did not want to reveal his last name for fear of retribution. “And at the end of the day, he’d be like, ‘What did you think of that? Was that fun? ... Because that’s what you’re going to be doing for the rest of your life if you don’t get out of this …’”
Celso paused momentarily to find the right words.
“I think the translation was ‘s--thole,’” he added.
Celso believed he had found the way out of that lifestyle when he graduated from ASU with a degree in business management in May 2009. But now, he spends most of his days the same way he spent those Saturdays with his father — working as a landscaper, just one of thousands of illegal immigrants providing Valley residents and businesses with cheap labor.
From 2005 to his 2009 graduation, Celso was one of hundreds of undocumented students at the University, trying to attend school without the aid of federal student loans, or, since the passage of Arizona’s Proposition 300, in-state tuition. The 2006 ballot initiative mandated that the state universities charge out-of-state tuition rates to students in the country illegally, even if they live in Arizona.
Members of the Arizona DREAM Act Coalition estimate there are about 280 undocumented students on ASU’s campus, students who struggle with the prospect of being deported and a system that will not provide them with financial aid.
Angelica, an undocumented student enrolled in the Ira A. Fulton College of Engineering who also did not want to reveal her last name, said the hardest part of being an undocumented student is knowing she doesn’t have the same extracurricular opportunities her classmates have.
“It’s really hard because you come here, but there are so many things you can’t take advantage of,” she said. “Career fairs, internships, research projects — things you can’t do that you see everyone in your class doing.”
Celso missed out on a number of opportunities, including becoming a Community Assistant (then known as a Residential Assistant). He also described many situations where he kept his immigration status a secret from others out of fear that they would turn him in.
“One of my RAs, he was a really cool guy. He played guitar and I played guitar, so we would have jam sessions,” he said. “But he was totally on the other side of the spectrum, so I kept my distance.”
Prop 300 ‘changed the rules’
The passage of Proposition 300 in 2006 left many undocumented students who graduated from Arizona high schools and had previously been paying in-state tuition searching for new sources of student aid.
The discrepancy prompted many members of the community, including some University officials, to start providing private scholarship funding to the students.
Vice President of Student Initiatives James Rund said members of the administration began trying to raise funds through private channels in order to help students who were falling through the cracks.
“When Proposition 300 passed, it changed the rules of the game for many students,” Rund said. “They had paid in-state tuition halfway through their academic career, and they were going to have to pay three times that amount.”
Members of the ASU administration, including Rund and President Michael Crow, began asking for private donations to the Sunburst Scholarship, a program meant to help undocumented students pay their tuition. The fund raised $5 million in the first year, Rund said.
The Sunburst Scholarship helped many students, including Angelica and Celso, fund their education. But after just one year, the program was shut down due to lack of funding.
The scholarship angered many people who saw it as a free pass for illegal immigrants.
“You now have a lot of people who can’t afford to go to ASU, and they followed all the rules,” state Sen. John Huppenthal, R-Chandler, said Wednesday. “They looked at that situation and they saw the University raising money for illegal immigrants and they said, ‘What about my child?’”
Rund said the scholarship was not meant to last — administrators hoped Congress would answer the Bush administration’s call for immigration reform, which would have provided undocumented students with relief and eliminated the need for the Sunburst program.
“We were optimistic about there being a change in the law that didn’t require an ongoing fundraising effort,” Rund said. “It didn’t get done.”
Between two worlds
When the Sunburst Scholarship was canceled in 2008, it left Angelica and Celso to turn to private organizations, including local advocacy group Chicanos Por La Causa, for financial support.
ASU organizations have chipped in toward similar scholarships. The Wesley Foundation at ASU, a United Methodist campus ministry for students, partnered with other Christian denominational parishes to provide five scholarships of $500 each year, Campus Minister Rev. Robert Rynders said.
“A lot of these students are very gifted artists, [they] want to be doctors, teachers or lawyers,” he said. “They could do a lot of good for our society.”
Rynders said he sympathizes with the students because they are essentially caught between two cultures.
“As far as they know, this is their home,” he said. “They’ve gone to school here, they’ve made friends and established roots here … and now they’re being seen as non-citizens and second-class people.”
No turning back
Though he may be drifting between cultures, Celso said he doesn’t feel any confusion over which one he truly belongs to.
“I consider myself American,” he said. “I have no loyalty to Mexico in any way. My parents get mad at me when I say that, but it’s true.”
Celso added that he is hoping to see immigration reform legislation pass sometime in the next couple of years. Two months ago he married his high school sweetheart, an American citizen, and is now hoping to get a green card.
In the meantime, he is doing exactly what he hoped to avoid during his childhood — working as a landscaper with his father.
Angelica is looking into the possibility of going to graduate school, which would also be funded through private scholarships. The process may be exhausting, she said, but a master’s degree is well worth the price.
“In the long run, it will be worth it,” she said. “Education is something no one can take away from you.”
Reach the reporter at derek.quizon@asu.edu.
