The limbo of undocumented students after the elimination of the Texas Dream Act

José Luis grew up as a Texan, although he never was one legally. This 20-year-old has lived in Texas for 16 years. He arrived here from Mexico with his parents when he was four. His father got a job in construction, his mother cleaning houses. He learned English better than Spanish: “I feel like I’m from here, but without papers I don’t have the same opportunities.” That fact has forced him to work twice as hard. He wanted to earn a degree in computer science to merge, he says, technology, politics, and law. He did well for four semesters.

But now he’s at home figuring out what to do next. His life was placed on hold after the state eliminated the Texas Dream Act, which allowed undocumented students to pay lower tuition at universities instead of the higher fees paid by out-of-state students, and to apply for financial aid.

José Luis isn’t his real name. He asks that it be withheld for fear of the Trump administration’s anti-immigrant policies. He also withholds the name of the university he was attending, but does mention that it’s a Hispanic-majority institution where, he says, he felt “more confident.” Being undocumented also influenced the study program he chose, which would give him the opportunity to earn a living as an independent contractor with his ITIN (a tax number that allows people without Social Security to file taxes in the United States). He was able to cover part of his school expenses by working as a community manager.

His limbo began last June, when a court ruling struck down the law passed in 2001 by then-Republican Governor Rick Perry. Thanks to it, thousands of undocumented young people were able to access in-state tuition if they had studied at least three years in Texas high schools and signed an affidavit stating they would seek permanent residency as soon as legally possible. In José Luis’s case, his university cost around $10,000 (about €8,500) per semester. But between private scholarships, state aid, and the reduced rate provided by the Texas Dream Act, he only had to pay out of pocket for his room and personal expenses.

At the beginning of the summer, however, the Department of Justice sued Texas, arguing that the law was unconstitutional because it granted benefits to undocumented students that U.S. citizens in other states did not receive. Within hours, the state’s Attorney General, the Republican Ken Paxton, backed that position. Federal Judge Reed O’Connor then concluded that the Texas Dream Act violated the Constitution and struck it down.

Some 57,000 students, nearly 8% of those enrolled at Texas public universities, lost their ability to pay the reduced in-state tuition. José Luis recalls that when his mother heard the news, she told him, “Check TikTok, I just saw something about scholarships.” “I didn’t pay much attention to it, but the next day I started getting messages from my classmates: ‘What are we going to do?’ And that’s when I got worried.”

The university emailed him: “In preparation for the start of the fall semester, we are contacting you to notify you of a potential change in your residency classification that may impact your tuition and financial aid for the 2025-2026 academic year. [...] To maintain in-state tuition consideration, please submit proof of lawful presence in the United States to the Office of the Registrar. Failure to provide the necessary documentation will result in your status reverting to Non-resident of Texas for tuition purposes, and your tuition and financial aid package will be adjusted accordingly,” the letter added.

“That day I felt like everything I had done was worthless,” says José Luis.

“Education is a privilege”

For the semester beginning in the fall of 2024, José Luis paid an enrollment fee of just over $2,580, and for spring 2025, he paid just over $2,070, corresponding to the in-state rate. Without the Texas Dream Act, the university would have charged him non-resident tuition, which typically triples or quadruples the costs. In total, each year, thanks to the law, he saved between $9,000 and $13,000 in tuition alone.

Although his total semester tuition exceeded $10,000, he was able to cover most of it thanks to various financial aid programs he received. These included the Tuition Grant-TASFA, a $2,000 state scholarship, and the private TheDream.US scholarship (the largest in the country for undocumented students), which provided him with approximately $4,700 each semester. These funds, along with the Texas Dream Act, reduced his expenses to less than $1,000 per semester.

With the law struck down, José Luis and thousands of other young people in his situation have been forced to drop out of school. Others, like 21-year-old Regina, have received specific support from their schools. In her case, although she will be able to graduate, she doesn’t know what she’ll do with a university degree in hand if she can’t pursue that career without a work permit, which she has no way of obtaining.

Regina (also not her real name) is about to finish her degree in psychology with a specialization in child development. She says she tries to motivate herself every day, although in reality, she’s overcome with uncertainty. “The summer was horrible. My family and I were very anxious,” she says. Thanks to the Texas Dream Act and the scholarships she received, she only had to buy her books, about $200. But with the law’s elimination, her tuition would have skyrocketed to $11,000 per semester. “If my university hadn’t opened this internal scholarship, I would have had to drop out. I had no way to pay,” she notes.

Regina arrived in Texas from Mexico as a baby. Her father works in construction, like José Luis’, and she too has had to lay bricks. When she learned they were repealing the law, before her school introduced the scholarship so final-semester students wouldn’t miss out on their degree, she spent weeks with her father learning to be a bricklayer, with no hope of continuing her education.

With her ITIN number, Regina has also collaborated as a mentor in a program for first-generation students. Her hope, when she graduates, is to be able to continue in that program full-time. Otherwise, she says, she’ll go to live with her father or work as a waitress. She hasn’t given that much thought yet; she’s determined to graduate. “Being undocumented has made me strong. Education is a privilege, and you have to give it your all.”

An improvised and chaotic application

For several experts, the way the law’s repeal was implemented has been chaotic. “It’s being applied in a very haphazard manner and without due process guarantees,” said Kristin Etter, director of policy and legal services for the Texas Immigration Law Council, an immigrant rights organization that has condemned the repeal of the Texas Dream Act. According to Etter, this is happening because universities began reclassifying students “without any state or federal guidance.”

The Texas Education Code establishes that an institution cannot increase a student’s tuition after they have enrolled in a semester. However, according to Etter, it is unclear whether this holds true in the face of forced reclassification. “While a simple reading of this statute indicates that tuition rates are set at the time of enrollment, there is legal uncertainty about how this provision might interact with others that allow reclassification following a change of information, and whether such reclassification might override protections,” she notes. “Different institutions appear to be interpreting and applying the court ruling differently, and state guidance has been limited,” she adds.

Organizations such as the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), the Texas Civil Rights Project, and the National Immigration Law Center have filed legal challenges. They argue that repealing the law without a transition period violates due process and affects both students and institutions.

In 2021, Texas Dream Act beneficiaries contributed $81.6 million in tuition and fees to public universities. The American Immigration Council estimates that the repeal will cost the state approximately $461 million annually in lost economic activity and wages. “The Department of Justice’s order, which was agreed to without proper process, creates sweeping uncertainty for impacted students and colleges and universities as well. As students prepare to attend school in the fall, the failure of neither the DOJ nor the attorney general to defend the Texas Dream Act threatens their ability to afford tuition – and suddenly threatens their dreams of pursuing higher education,” warned the ACLU in a statement.

Meanwhile, José Luis is thinking about how to continue his studies. He does odd jobs, saving what he can. His parents have suggested he return to Mexico, but he doesn’t want to: “I have nothing there, I don’t even know that country. Besides, if I leave, I don’t know if I could come back.” Regina, for her part, insists on graduating: “Even though I don’t have legal documents, I’m here thanks to what I’ve worked for. No one can take that away from me.”

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