“We’re all DREAMers,” explains one we’ll call “Dulce,” a high school junior brought to the United States at age 3. Dulce was referring to legislation under consideration by the U.S. Congress, called the , which would offer a path to citizenship for children who were raised in the United States without legal documentation.

If identifiable names were not used, Dulce agreed to be quoted for this article, along with Willie, who was brought to the United States at age 6, and Raul, who came “half my life ago” at age 8. All three are students at , dual-enrolled at Blue Ridge Community College. All three have visited 91����Ƶ, Bridgewater College and James Madison University, with the intention of being university students in the next few years.

Raul and Willie both hope to become engineers. They’re studying pre-calculus, though Willie also hopes to explore art. Dulce’s first career aspiration was for health or medicine. Volunteering at , she’s shadowed a nurse, dietitian and midwife (even observing a birth), but also thinks she might pursue immigration law. Following local college visits via SLI (pronounced “sly”), Dulce leans toward “a small school, a religious school” while Raul feels drawn to JMU, where he’s spent time with his student-mentor, Sergio.

91����Ƶ was first university sponsor in the Valley

Dulce, Raul and Willie were the first at Harrisonburg High School tapped for the Scholars’ Latino Initiative program, launched locally in 2012 with 91����Ƶ as its first university sponsor. Since its founding in 2003, SLI has grown from its base at the Center for Global Initiatives at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill to encompass five locations in North Carolina and Virginia. Shenandoah University is now part of the Shenandoah Valley chapter of SLI, coming aboard in 2013 in partnership with a Winchester (Va.) high school.

SLI focuses mainly on academically successful, underprivileged Latino students. SLI chooses the students it serves when they are in grade 9, via a competitive application process. While all SLI students are expected to perform well in school, those students nominated by the selection committee as “scholars” have additional expectations for leadership development, community service, and contact time with mentors. The Shenandoah Valley chapter of SLI currently has 15 members, seven named as “scholars.”

The program’s keystone is mentorship. Dulce, Raul and Willie have each worked for a year with a JMU Centennial Scholar who was matched to them by gender. If all goes as planned, following a three-year partnership, the graduation dates of the high school students and their university mentors will coincide.

Mentoring of students includes practice interviews, volunteer service

All SLI students participate in practice sessions for interviews, college preparatory courses and workshops, and where needed, English language study. They’ve volunteered at a soup kitchen, , and nonprofits where they assisted in interpretation.

Sophomore Aracely – born in New York to Salvadoran parents – says after-school SLI sessions provide needed time on computers. Jose, born in Honduras, mentions accessibility to scholarships.

The high school juniors recently observed an advanced Spanish class taught at Bridgewater, where Dulce considered the students “pretty good for mostly non-native speakers.” In the upcoming year, SLI students will make site visits to other Virginia colleges and universities.

Sandy Mercer, recent SLI coordinator at the high school, said SLI students “have challenged, inspired me, and always found a way to make me laugh. I’ve already seen some beautiful, transformative things happening, and watched student leadership give vision and hope to other students and their families.” In October, as Mercer prepared for relocation to Florida, SLI students gave her a party, with souvenirs and hugs, while welcoming Hannah Bowman as the new SLI high school coordinator.

From UNC-Chapel Hill to 91����Ƶ and further

, a professor with interdisciplinary credentials in history, politics, religion and leadership, said that before he founded SLI in 2003 at UNC-Chapel Hill, he tried to ascertain what factors are valued by college admissions officers. “It wasn’t board scores or GPA,” he said. “Public service and the challenging nature of programs were very high on the list.” In 2008, Kaufman moved to the faculty of the University of Richmond, where he continues to be involved in immigration and education matters in addition to his scholarly research, teaching and publications.

One of SLI’s biggest challenges is helping undocumented youth – the majority of those served by SLI – find pathways to higher education or employment. DACA (the federal memorandum, Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) currently lets most undocumented students remain in the United States, but they still face tough hurdles in gaining admission to colleges and finding the funding to complete their degrees.

SLI’s students have interacted with area government officials, though Kaufman said that immigration reform itself is not the organization’s objective.

91����Ƶ professors and administrators have served on SLI’s 12-member Shenandoah Valley board and helped arrange campus visits. As an SLI partner, 91����Ƶ promises that SLI students who meet admission requirements will be accepted and receive tuition assistance.

Program relies on donations

SLI board member , 91����Ƶ’s executive director of development, credits 91����Ƶ with being “the model school by being open to Latinos,” specifically those lacking documentation.

Mercer agreed, “91����Ƶ has been proactive, long before other universities were.”

The board has made fundraising its top priority. Says Helmuth: “We invite anyone who shares the vision and mission of improving collegial education opportunities for Latinos of need to make a contribution through the website at .”

Risking deportation to her native Mexico, Castillo is publicly campaigning for sweeping changes in the way the U.S. deals with its 11 million undocumented residents. She is especially promoting a bill in the U.S. Congress – the – that would help people like herself who were brought to America as children by undocumented parents. DREAM stands for Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors.

When she spoke at the University of San Francisco in 2011, Castillo received an honorary doctorate “for unwavering advocacy for the passage for the DREAM Act.” She was the youngest 91����Ƶ graduate ever to win an honorary doctorate.

A standout student at Turner Ashby High School in Bridgewater, Va., Castillo faced bleak prospects for college and employment when she graduated. Many colleges do not admit undocumented students and most employers will not hire someone like her. She does not have a Social Security number.

91����Ƶ admitted Castillo, but she struggled to pay her way, since undocumented students do not qualify for the usual loans and scholarships. However she managed to graduate in 3½ years with the highest academic honors, earning a degree in social work.

Now she travels widely to speak and campaign while working as a server in a family restaurant in Harrisonburg. After speaking with Sen. Tim Kaine of Virginia recently, he told Castillo’s story on the floor of the U.S. Senate during debate on an immigration bill.

“Every day about 1,000 undocumented immigrants get deported from the U.S.,” she says. “Deportations should end while Congress tries to pass immigration reform.”

“I haven’t worked with any other young alum who has accomplished as much as Isabel in such a short period of time,” says , 91����Ƶ’s director of career services. “She has the odds stacked against her and yet she continues to persist and successfully advocate for her cause.”

Nevertheless, Castillo, a national leader in advocating for immigration-law reform, says “deferred action” falls far short of addressing the plight of undocumented immigrants living in the United States. For Castillo, the solution lies in enacting the , along with larger immigration reform and community support.

DREAM (which stands for Development Relief and Education for Alien Minors) and Obama’s have parallel criteria to permit minors brought illegally to America to remain in the country after they become young adults. The criteria include:

• having arrived before the age of 16

• having lived in the U.S. for more than five years

• being between 15 and 35 at the age of applying

• no criminal record

The big difference between the two is that DACA is short term, while DREAM offers the hope of a permanent solution. DACA provides those eligible with work permits and is only valid for a two-year period, putting childhood arrivals at risk of deportation in the future.

“Deferred Action is very temporary, and it’s not a path for legalization,” Castillo says. “There’s still that risk that a new president could come in and cancel this program at any time.”

Castillo has been campaigning for the DREAM Act because it would permit “conditional legal status” – and a pathway to eventual citizenship – for those who meet certain criteria in terms of educational achievement or military service.

While thrilled to see any movement whatsoever in the direction of reform, Castillo feels DACA was a political move on President Obama’s part, timed to garner the votes of Latinos in the presidential election.

Brought from Mexico to the United States at age 6, Castillo has been fighting for immigration reform since graduating magna cum laude from 91����Ƶ with a social work degree. Unable to work legally, she decided to speak up on behalf of herself and other undocumented young adults, despite the risk of deportation and separation from her loved ones.

Castillo has been covered in the , , , and , a network that produces the second-largest amount of Spanish content in the world. She has spoken before governors, members of Congress and state legislatures, and university students, sharing her experiences and advocating legislative change. She has received an honorary doctorate from the University of San Francisco for her efforts.

The issues faced by immigrants like Castillo go beyond inability to find legal employment. Without a social security number, they cannot get driver’s licenses, apply for government-backed student loans, or even get admitted into most colleges, even if someone pays their way. James Madison University, for example, does not take undocumented students. These difficult realities motivate Castillo to go wherever she can – as close as churches and schools in the Shenandoah Valley to educate residents, as far south as Fort Lauderdale, Fla., to rally against “low-profile” deportations, and as far west as the University of Hawaii in O’ahu, where she discussed how to achieve equality for all immigrant youth, regardless of their legal status.

In October 2012, Castillo and supporters of immigration reform achieved a victory on the local level. Castillo spoke at the Rockingham (Va.) County Government Building on the topic of 287G, a contract signed between local government and ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement). Though the ostensible purpose of 287G was to deport high-level criminals, Castillo and her allies found that of the 297 individuals deported under 287G, only 12 percent were high-level offenders.

Thanks to mass emails, phone calls, flyers, and informational meetings, over 100 came to an Oct. 24 rally to ask that 287G be terminated, including many from 91����Ƶ.

Professor Carol Snell-Feikema of 91����Ƶ’s , who attended the rally, said afterwards that she was thankful for Castillo’s “gifted voice, speaking on behalf of those most affected.” She added that Castillo “presented solid empirical evidence, as well presented the human side of the issue. She spoke from the heart, told personal stories with real impact, and did a great job of summarizing our work of interviewing Latinos in the community on the real-life effects of 287G in their daily lives.”

ICE wanted Rockingham County to extend 287G for three more months, but Rockingham County took no action at the meeting, causing 287G to end.

Supporters of 287G could attempt to reinstate it in December, and there is ever-constant work to do when it comes to local law enforcement, let alone that of the state and federal level. Castillo does not see herself giving up the struggle anytime soon for more humane laws.

Castillo’s life was summarized in magazine by Jose Antonio Vargas, a former Washington Post reporter who identified himself as an undocumented immigrant to the United States, like Castillo.

“Isabel Castillo was 6 years old when she was smuggled across the Mexican border,” Vargas wrote. “While her parents picked apples and the family sold tacos out of their home in the Shenandoah Valley, Isabel dreamed big — but only so big. After all, she did not have a Social Security number.

“Unable to apply for financial aid, she worked for a year, off the books, to save money for college. After graduating magna cum laude from 91����Ƶ in 2007, she was unable to legally find a job.”

Vargas praised Castillo for refusing to fearfully hide in the shadows and for pressing Virginia Governor Bob McDonnell in a public meeting to endorse the DREAM Act. This act would give undocumented immigrants who arrived in the United States as children a path to legal residency.

Since the summer of 2010, Castillo has become a national leader as a highly public advocate for undocumented immigrants. She was the 2011 commencement speaker at the University of San Francisco, which conferred an honorary doctorate on her. She was featured in a Feb. 20, 2011, New York Times article, “” and on Telemundo, the second-largest Spanish-language content producer in the world.

Recently Harvard Divinity School chose Castillo to be one of 40 invitees to its 2011 Diversity and Explorations Program to be held Nov. 8-10, 2011. Castillo’s invitational letter cited her “combination of academics and interests in social justice and diversity, as well as [her] desire to explore connections with graduate studies in theology, religion, or ministry.”

Castillo was featured in a Feb. 20, 2011, New York Times article, “.” This publicity led Jesuit-run University of San Francisco to invite her to be its commencement speaker this spring and to offer her an honorary doctorate.

On Feb. 24, 2011, Castillo was interviewed for Telemundo, the second-largest Spanish-language content producer in the world.

Castillo first came to public attention on July 20, 2010, when she was one of 20 undocumented young people arrested in Washington DC for staging non-violent, sit-down actions at the Hart Senate Office Building to appeal for passage of the DREAM Act. (The Act was derailed when it was five votes short of advancing in the Senate.)

Castillo was brought by her parents as a 6-year-old to the United States. She graduated from Turner Ashby High School near Harrisonburg, Va., with a 4.0 GPA. She graduated magna cum laude from 91����Ƶ, with a major in social work.

Congressional passage of the DREAM Act – the acronym stands for Development, Relief and Education of Alien Minors – would give undocumented immigrants ages 12-30 a path to legal residency. They would be able to apply for citizenship if they serve in the military or get a college education. It would take at least 10 years and perhaps as much as a 15-20 years for a person to satisfy the requirements.

On Aug. 26, 2010, Castillo spoke eloquently at a town hall meeting held by Virginia governor Bob McDonnell, a Republican pushing for tougher deportation policies. In January 2011, she went to Richmond, the capital of Virginia, and testified before a House of Delegates subcommittee that was considering a proposal to bar undocumented students from state-supported colleges.

In October 2010, Bob Edwards of National Public Radio interviewed Castillo for a segment of his national show.

Castillo’s biggest risk is being deported and ending up alone in an unfamiliar setting in Mexico, away from her home, her family and her friends. “At first, I’d only allow the media to shoot my face turned away and only my first name,” she told the New York Times reporter.

“And then it just progressed. I said, O.K., use my face and you can say I went to a local university. Then it was, I graduated from 91����Ƶ and I’m Isabel Castillo.”

Castillo paid her way through 91����Ƶ by working 30 hours a week at unsalaried casual jobs, such as babysitting and waitressing, and continues to survive by working in this manner, while accepting multiple (usually unpaid) invitations to speak on the DREAM Act.

A reporter for the Capital News Service in Richmond quoted Isabel as saying: “I started doing activism because the issue affected me, but now I do it for the thousands of people like me who are scared to stand up. I have a sense of relief.”

She adds, “I’m not ashamed or scared. I’m not a criminal. I’m no longer going to hide in the shadows.”