On a recent school night at Mansueto High School in Back of the Yards, college recruiters from around Illinois made their pitch to an unlikely audience — one whose members have every reason to believe college is not for them. The event was the sixth annual college fair hosted by the Noble Schools charter network specifically for undocumented students.
“It's very welcoming, because the universities are like, ‘Yes, come to us, we got you. We'll help you pay for this. We'll give you scholarships. We'll build this club,’” says Brisa Angel, a college counselor, as she watched her students talk to recruiters. “It’s one thing to see it on a sheet: ‘OK, these are your options.’ And a whole other thing is walking into a fair and talking to people who are like, ‘Yeah, we have these resources.’”
Kevin Guzman, a student at ITW David Speer Academy on the West Side, says before the event, he doubted college was a possibility for him because of his immigration status.
“I was originally going to do the military, because I thought that was going to be the easy way out. … I was gonna get my citizenship, and I was gonna get a whole bunch of money,” Guzman says. “Now I'm looking at these colleges out here, and I'm like, ‘OK, maybe, maybe there's a chance for me.’”
For years, undocumented students have been told in big and little ways they do not belong in college. They do not have access to federal financial aid, and in most states, they have to pay out-of-state tuition rates without the help of state grants.
But in Illinois, undocumented students have a better shot at getting into and paying for college. The state is one of 19 where undocumented students can apply for state funding and one of 25 where they pay in-state tuition rates.
Just as important is the network of adults working overtime to help these students navigate a maze of paperwork and find a campus where they can get the support they need to succeed. That network includes Angel, who was once an undocumented high schooler with college dreams.
“I didn't know what it meant to really be undocumented until I came to apply to college,” Angel says about the hurdles she had to overcome to access higher education. “That was actually really terrifying, because I was like, ‘Oh my goodness, what am I going to do with my life?’”
Angel says her college counselor stepped in and helped her submit applications to 42 colleges.
“She was like, ‘I don't know what it means to be undocumented, but I got you,’” Angel says. “She basically held my hand and dragged me across, and she was like, ‘You're not gonna give up. You're not gonna give up.’”
Now Angel is paying it forward. Three months ago, she became a college counselor at ITW David Speer Academy, the high school she attended. She wants younger generations of students to have college options, too, whether they have legal immigration status.
Her efforts come as tuition costs and student debt are rising and more Americans are questioning the value of college. A poll published by Gallup in July found that nearly one-third of Americans have little to no confidence in higher education.
But the work of Angel and advocates for undocumented students across the state is a rejection of skepticism of college — from one of the communities with the least access to it.
“College is not the only pathway to be successful. That is true,” says Aidé Acosta, chief college adviser for the Noble network. “But are we telling all kids that? Or are we only telling Black and brown kids that? Because I refuse to revive gendered and racialized tropes about our communities, that college is not possible for them.”
Acosta, who was once undocumented, says her parents did not have college degrees and had to work long hours at physically exhausting jobs. She says they wanted something different for her.
“We often talk to students who are just finding out for the first time what their status means and feel hopeless,” she says. “And I always remind them that education is the one thing … that nobody will take away from you, no matter where you find yourself in life, in the world.”
It’s something students can hold onto, she says, when there is so much — including their legal status in this country — that is not within their grasp.
