latimes.com/nation/la-na-immigration-dreamers-20140325,0,7318302.story
Harsh immigration realities set in for many 'dreamers'
Deferred deportations and work permits granted under an Obama program don't
always result in better jobs or higher pay. Lack of education or work experience
is a big hurdle.
By Lalita Clozel
8:26 PM PDT, March 24, 2014 - Los Angeles Times
WASHINGTON — Working as a Jack in the Box cashier, Marissa Cruz Santos
breathed a sigh of relief last year when she qualified for an Obama
administration program that defers deportation of young immigrants who came to
the U.S. illegally as children.
With high expectations and a freshly minted work permit, Santos, 27, hit the
job market, hoping to leverage her new status and a Cal State Fullerton degree
into an entry-level office position. But after applying for several jobs near
her Riverside home, Santos got only two interviews and no offers.
Yes, she said, the president's Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program
has made it easier for her to apply for jobs that were previously out of reach,
but obstacles remain to actually getting them, mostly because of gaps in her
skill level and a weak resume caused by years toiling at low-paying fast-food
jobs.
"I don't think we were ready for the fact that a lot of us have been out of
school for a long time and that we don't have experience," Santos said.
As prospects for comprehensive immigration reform this year fade, many young
immigrants like Santos are confronting the limits of the president's program,
saying it has not transformed their lives as much as they had hoped.
The program offered a two-year deportation deferral and work permits to
hundreds of thousands of undocumented immigrants who came to the country
illegally before age 16. Santos and others, dubbed the "dreamers," were
encouraged to come out of the shadows and build new lives. The program was
hailed as an important first step in addressing the plight of more than 11
million immigrants living in the U.S. illegally.
But since the program started, more than 40% of participants have failed to
land new jobs after receiving work permits, and only 45% reported getting pay
increases, according to early results from a 2013 survey of 2,381 participants,
conducted by Roberto G. Gonzales, an assistant professor at Harvard University's
Graduate School of Education.
He said the "prototype dreamer" that most immigration activists talk about —
straight-A students and valedictorians who are now free to pursue successful,
productive careers — represents the minority. Most participants, he said, are
having "a hard time reentering mainstream life."
Many have been unable to take advantage of new opportunities because they
lack a high school diploma or college degree, Gonzales said. He noted that the
program did not make participants eligible for financial aid or in-state tuition
in every state.
"The biggest barriers to higher education c still exist," he said.
Maria Del Carmen Reyes, 31, an unemployed Santa Ana waitress, said she had
enrolled in a program to become a licensed vocational nurse but quit after four
months because she realized it was futile. "I was almost going to finish," she
said, but "people were telling me, 'You don't have a Social Security
[number].... You're not gonna be able to work.'"
Through the program, she received a work permit and hopes to go back to
school. But that could take years. Reyes, who is expecting a baby in July,
recently quit her restaurant job to take care of her other three children and a
husband, who is in the country illegally and cannot qualify for deferred
deportation because of his previous gang ties.
Even those with degrees and education are finding that they lack adequate
work experience to get jobs in their desired fields. Some have internalized the
stigma of growing up in the country illegally and lack confidence during job
interviews.
Antonia Rivera, 32, who moved from Mexico when she was 6, received a degree
in literary journalism from UC Irvine. After graduating in 2006, Rivera applied
for a position at an insurance company but didn't reveal her immigration status.
Rivera said she just wanted to see whether she could get a job on her
merits.
Rivera not only got the job, but the firm offered her a better position than
the one she applied for, she said. When the company asked for a driver's
license, however, she never called back, knowing it would not hire someone in
the country illegally.
Nearly a decade later, she has almost no experience except for fast-food and
customer-service jobs.
Now with a work permit, Rivera renewed her search for a job at another
insurance company. But when potential employers review her resume, they
invariably ask her to explain the long gap since graduation and why she took
such low-level jobs.
"They would kind of look at me weird," she said, wondering to themselves,
"Why haven't you done anything with your abilities?"
She said she was still nervous about explaining her circumstances to
potential employers. "I'm so used to being undocumented. When I go into an
interview, I think that's kind of holding me back," she said.
Hoping for a fresh start, she recently moved to Des Moines, where she found a
job as a clerk at Wells Fargo's home services division. But because the deferral
program is temporary, Rivera and other applicants say it's difficult to make
long-term plans. Though the two-year program is expected to be extended, U.S.
Citizenship and Immigration Services still has not released instructions on the
general reapplication process.
Santos, who recently quit her job at Jack in the Box to devote more time to
her job search, said she too feels on shaky ground.
"If deferred action is not renewed or the government takes it away, it's
going to send us back to basically nothing again," she said. "I'm just kind of
taking it day by day."
lalita.clozel@latimes.com
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