The Perez family’s tiny apartment is dotted by certificates, diplomas and awards. Wrestling trophies are proudly displayed. A graduation picture is stuck to the refrigerator by a magnet. It is clear that the Perez boys are on their way to success.
I’d watched the younger two grow up; Abraham, quiet and well-behaved, spent part of 5th grade in my class, and his younger brother Pablo, friendly and energetic, always said hello as he bounced through school hallways. They’re the kind of family teachers like: motivated children, involved parents.
Perhaps this comes from their parents’ background. In Mexico City, both Mr. and Mrs. Perez were teachers. Understanding the value of education drove them to immigrate to the US in 2001, with their 11-year-old twins, Amado and Caleb, and Abraham and Pablo, ages 6 and 2. Crossing the border with tourist visas, they didn’t tell the border agents that they were fleeing dangerous streets, poor schools and a shaky future for their boys. They didn’t explain how they owned a home in Mexico, a home that perhaps they would never see again. They didn’t recount the number of times Mr. Perez had been robbed commuting to work. When asked their destination, Mr. Perez answered with a white lie, “Disneyland.”
Upon arriving, they enrolled the boys in school and Pablo in preschool. They sought out a church to help them fill the void left by the absence of family and friends. The twins were terrified, clinging to each other as they navigated their way through 6th grade, through English, through this strange new world. The younger boys adapted quickly.
By the time Amado and Caleb graduated from high school, their tourist visas had long since expired. They began to experience some of the hardships of living illegally in the US. Driving without licenses, working long hours for low wages, and being charged the tuition rate for international students at Southwestern College were just some of the difficulties they endured. Perhaps hardest was always looking over their shoulders, feeling American but not feeling at ease. In 2012, their dream became a little easier, with the institution of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). This program allows undocumented immigrants between the ages of 16 and 31 to temporarily legalize their status, and work and study legally.
In order to qualify for DACA relief, all four boys had to show proof that they were in the United States on or before June 15, 2012 when the act was approved. Amado laughs as he recalls their hunt for proof. In addition to high school transcripts and school ID, they relied on Facebook posts, a letter from their pastor, and bank statements. Caleb had the receipt from a guitar he bought that exact day, and Pablo turned in his 8th grade graduation certificate. Once the paperwork was assembled, coming up with $465 dollars for each application presented another challenge. There were moments of fear, as the family wondered whether the DACA was legitimate, or just a ploy to get undocumented residents to reveal themselves. They decided to leap forward in faith.
Filing for their DACA paperwork opened doors for them. Caleb graduated from Southwestern College with a degree in American Sign Language and is now attending SDSU with the goal of becoming a teacher/ASL interpreter. Amado holds a certificate in theology and is studying nursing, hoping the combination of courses of study will enable him to heal people’s bodies and souls.
DACA relief came later for Abraham than he would have liked. When a recruiter for a college in Oklahoma came to meet him, impressed by Abraham’s GPA, wrestling prowess, and desire to study engineering, the entire family was excited. “You do have a social security number, don’t you?” the recruiter asked. “No? I’m sorry. We can’t do anything for you.” Bowed but unbroken, he enrolled in Southwestern College.
As Pablo enters his final year of high school, his DACA paperwork is in process. With a social security number, good grades, and championship wrestling skills, he hopes to attend a 4-year university.
Fifteen years later, they still haven’t made it to Disneyland, but they’ve used their time here well. Mr. and Mrs. Perez work at whatever jobs come their way: housecleaning, locksmithing, renting out bounce houses for parties. “We knew we would struggle,” Mrs. Perez says, and struggle they do. “But we’d rather be poor in the United States than be poor in Mexico.” More important to them than their own sacrifices were the dreams they had for their boys. “We wanted to see each child graduate from college and start their careers. We want to see doors open for them. We want to see them become good citizens and live good lives. They should help others, serve others.”
