American dream

Photo by Michael Zhang

American dream: Dan-el Padilla Peralta '06 was revealed as an undocumented immigrant in a front page Wall Street Journal article two weeks ago. He is currently applying for legal status.

Tacked above his desk, Dan-el Padilla Peralta '06 has an index card with a line by the Greek Hellenistic poet Callimachus scrawled on it. "The gods did not grant it to woe-bearing mortals to laugh without crying," it reads.

Padilla, a classics major, said the quote has helped to bring perspective to his life in the turmoil of recent weeks. After coming forward to the campus community — and the world — as an illegal immigrant in a front-page story in the Wall Street Journal two weeks ago, Padilla has faced much publicity. He has received an outpouring of support from friends — and ridicule and criticism from others — while shouldering the burden of not knowing how federal authorities will rule on his case.

Despite the anxiety, Padilla seems to embody the resolve of the poet he so admires. "I think sometimes we're all sort of laughing to cry," he said. "I don't wonder sometimes, 'Oh, is this too much to handle?' I'm here. I do things I love. I have friends I adore. I am thankful for those things everyday."

Padilla's story is both unique yet oddly unsurprising at the same time. Given the sheer number of undocumented aliens in the United States — approximately 10 million — one student, who grew up and spent his formative years here, was ostensibly bound to come to Princeton. But not only did Padilla come to Princeton, he excelled here beyond his peers. And as debate on how to deal with illegal immigrants rages in Washington, this student's future in the country remains in question.

Padilla credits his mother, Maria Elena Peralta, who brought him to the United States from the Dominican Republic at age four, for his optimism. Despite a childhood spent in poverty and New York City homeless shelters, he showed early signs of intellectual ability and an intense interest in academics.

With the help of mentor Jeff Cowen, whose great-grandfather founded the Wall Street brokerage house SG Cowen and worked part-time as an art teacher for underprivileged children, Padilla received a scholarship to the prestigious Collegiate School in Manhattan.

Even then, like many of the other 65,000 undocumented students graduating from U.S. high schools every year, the prospect of obtaining a college education proved to be an attractive but tenuous possibility for Padilla.

"I could not possibly pay anywhere close to full tuition," he said. And, because he was not a citizen or a legal alien, Padilla needed to find a school that would provide aid without federal loans, which require U.S. citizenship.

What he needed was a school that could provide need-based grants without the backing of federal loans. Princeton was his answer.

"Princeton sort of announced itself as this place where you could get full grant aid and you could get as much grant aid as you needed according to the circumstances of your need," he said. "I could definitely prove need."

Padilla chose to apply early decision and was accepted in December 2001.

Dean of the College Nancy Malkiel described Padilla's admission to Princeton not as a complex affair involving potential illegalities but as a typical admissions decision. Declining an interview, Malkiel responded to questions from The Daily Princetonian via email.

"The job of the Admission office is to identify and admit the very strongest applicants each year," she said, "and I believe Dan-el's record at Princeton shows that they made an excellent decision on his application."

"The Admission office does not consider immigration status in making admission decisions, and to our knowledge there are no laws that would require them to do so," Malkiel said. But, she added, "The Financial Aid office does take into account a student's status when assessing eligibility for federal funds or work study, and Dan-el's status was known to them."

At least one undocumented student, however, has been rejected from Princeton because of his immigration status, The New York Times reported last year.

Esteban Navarro, who applied to Princeton in 2002, was the valedictorian of his class at Central High School in Trenton, N.J. Once he had exhausted his high school's math curriculum, he enrolled in classes at Princeton, which, according to the Times, was actively recruiting him. He dreamed of a career in math.

But Navarro was rejected from Princeton because he was an illegal immigrant, the Times reported, citing "several people with knowledge of his situation." He dropped out of high school just days before the graduation ceremony. His brother Julio, a sophomore at Middlebury, said in an email that Navarro now works in a pizza shop near Trenton. He could not be reached for comment.

Though she did not comment on the Navarro case, Malkiel said that she had been "advised by counsel that there is no law or regulation that prohibits Princeton from admitting or enrolling undocumented undergraduates." Princeton, she said, "is fortunate to have the financial aid resources to meet the full need of all admitted students who have need," even illegal immigrants.

Life at Princeton

Once at Princeton, Padilla said he felt just like any other undergraduate student. Even some of his closest friends did not know of his undocumented status until the Journal article ran.

"Dan-el is a pretty private person," Rachel Zuraw '06, a good friend of Padilla's and a former 'Prince' editor, said. "He doesn't ... like to feel like he is burdening his friends."

Padilla remained concerned about his status while at Princeton, knowing that one day he would have to come forward. "There was always that fear, but I felt if I would have let myself be overcome with this fear that would be very crippling," he said.

Padilla has flourished academically at the University, maintaining a 3.9 GPA and winning numerous accolades, including the Sachs scholarship for two years of study at Oxford. The University will soon announce that Padilla has been chosen as his class's salutatorian.

The prospect of studying at Oxford after graduation posed an immediate problem for Padilla. If he were to leave the United States without being granted legal status, he would not be able to return and would be barred from trying to do so for 10 years.

The question of what to do about his status had always been in the back of Padilla's mind during his four years at Princeton. Without permanent residency or a valid visa, he wouldn't be able to take a professional job or enter graduate school. One day, he would have to confront his status.

"To my awareness of what I wanted to do with my life," he said, "there presented itself this obstacle where [I was] very much limited by the constraints of [my] situation."

He approached Dean of Undergraduate Students Kathleen Deignan for advice about his immigration status the summer before his freshman year. Deignan told him to "normalize his status if at all possible," Malkiel said, by getting a student visa to study at Princeton.

But it was not possible. To get a visa, Padilla would have to return to the Dominican Republic. That was not an option for him, so he began his freshman year as an illegal immigrant at Princeton.

In June 2004, Padilla asked Malkiel for help with his status, the first time she said she learned of it. "It was pretty much due to ... the interest of people at the University ... who felt it might be wise to set me up with a lawyer who might be able to give me advice as to how to proceed," he said.

Working with Office of Visa Services, Malkiel gave him the contact information of a "highly-regarded immigration lawyer and encouraged Dan-el to consult with him to review his circumstances and options," she said.

Padilla first met with the lawyer, Stephen Yale-Loehr, in December 2005 when they discussed possible options. The two finalized the plan to pursue a request for a change of immigration status in January.

The portfolio of evidence from Padilla, his mother and numerous affidavits from faculty members, friends and others familiar with Padilla's situation, academic work and personal qualities, was presented to federal immigration authorities a few weeks ago.

As part of the application process, Padilla's mother had to come forward to reveal her own immigration status. In 1989, while pregnant with Dan-el's younger brother Yando, she entered the country with Dan-el and her then-husband, who has since returned to the Dominican Republic. She was having complications with her pregnancy and was advised to seek medical care in the United States.

Yando was born in the United States and is a U.S. citizen. Now a junior at Collegiate, he hopes to attend Harvard or Duke.

"My family is very supportive," Padilla said. "I worry sometimes, with all the sort of hustle and bustle that anyone of them might feel a little overwhelmed."

For now, he awaits a final decision that may take months. "The immigration agency can take as long or as short as it wants to," Yale-Loehr said. They hope to hear back by the time Padilla graduates next month.

The broader debate

While most familiar with Padilla's story focus on the unique nature of his accomplishments, others have argued that his struggle is representative of a larger debate on immigration issues in this country.

Maribel Hernandez GS, who has worked to raise awareness and debate about immigration issues on campus, said that Padilla's story may help to give a face to an issue that often goes hidden in America.

Hernandez said Padilla's struggle to find a way to obtain a college education as an undocumented immigrant is not unique. "I know many students who are in his position ...We [have] undocumented students and we're allowing them to get to high school but after high school they have no options," she said. "We're creating an underclass."

Hernandez, who has tutored students with documentation issues, called Padilla's example the "light at the end of the tunnel" for many immigrants in the area. "Many [immigrants] are proud because they know how difficult he had it and he's been able to get so far," she said. For her, he represents the hope that it "can be done."

"These are kids that are as American as they can be. Sending them back to the country of origin of their parents just doesn't make sense," she said.

Wilson School Dean Anne-Marie Slaughter '80, who was one of the faculty members to write to U.S. authorities in support of Padilla, described him as "in many ways a very American success story."

"This is a case where it seems to me that the current law and justice are heading in opposite directions," she said.

But Yale-Loehr, Padilla's attorney, said that though Padilla's background and accomplishments make him stand out, his case is not representative of those of the majority of illegal immigrants.

"I think [Padilla] is unique and I think that the immigration agency should not be concerned that if they approve his case there will be a flood of other applicants ... I think that very few other people meet these requirements," Yale-Loehr said.

The DREAM Act, part of a bevy of proposed immigration legislation currently before the U.S. Senate, would create a procedure for undocumented students to apply for permanent resident status once having completed a sufficient amount of higher education.

"The University will follow that discussion closely," Malkiel said. "Dan-el's case is a reminder that there are extraordinary people living in this country who are out of status for reasons beyond their control."

But for Padilla, the debate remains somewhat removed, as he worries about more immediate concerns, mainly what comes next for his family and himself.

"In the end you are only in control of what you're in control of," he said. "You can control the academic work you do, you can control the relationships you have with people. After that, everything is in the hands of the immortal gods."