Young U.S. Citizens in Mexico Brave Risks for American Schools

Young U.S. Citizens in Mexico Brave Risks for American Schools

TIJUANA, Mexico — Weekday mornings at 5, when the lights on distant hillsides across the border still twinkle in the blackness, Martha, a high school senior, begins her arduous three-hour commute to school. She groggily unlocks the security gate guarded by the family Doberman and waits in the glare of the Pemex filling station for the bus to the border. Her fellow passengers, grown men with their arms folded, jostle her in their sleep.
Martha’s destination, along with dozens of young friends — United States citizens all living in “TJ,” as they affectionately call their city — is a public high school eight miles away in Chula Vista, Calif., where they were born and where they still claim to live.

California teenagers start their mornings with crossing guards and school buses. Martha and her friends stand for hours in a human chain of 16,000 at the world’s busiest international land border. Cellphones in one hand and notebooks in the other, they wait again to cross on foot, fearing delays that could force them to miss a social studies final, oblivious to hawkers selling breakfast burritos or weary parents holding toddlers in pajamas.

In San Ysidro, the port of entry, they board a red trolley to another bus that takes them to school. They are sweating the clock — the bell rings at 8 a.m. sharp.

“Most of the time I am really, really tired,” said Martha, whose parents moved back to Tijuana because the cost of living was cheaper here than in southern California.

“I try to do my best,” she added. “But sometimes, I just can’t.”

In the raging debate over immigration, almost all sides have come to agree on tougher enforcement at the border. But nearly unnoticed, frustration is focusing locally on border-crossers who are not illegal immigrants but young American citizens, whose families have returned to Mexico yet want their children to attend American schools.

Called “transfronterizos,” these students migrate between two cultures, two languages and two nations every day, straining the resources of public school districts and sparking debate among educators and sociologists over whether it is in American interests that they be taught in the United States. Although some Mexican families pay the steep tuition required of out-of-district students, most do not, and many that pay taxes out of their paychecks do not pay the property taxes that support public services.

Some of the students’ parents are American citizens and some are Mexican.

Students like Martha fly under the radar in some school districts, while other districts assign truancy officers to find who they are. They live with the anxiety of potentially having to lie about their residency and the very real possibility that the prize they are after — a decent education — will be taken from them. Though their exact numbers are unknown, their presence reflects the daily complexities of border life — among them, economic and educational disparities between the United States and Mexico and families splintered by deportation and unemployment.

Transfronterizos can be found from Calexico, Calif., to El Paso, where violence in neighboring Cuidad Juárez, Mexico, has led to the creation of a designated lane for 800 to 1,400 students daily, including American citizens who attend El Paso schools.

In Tijuana, Martha and a half-dozen high school seniors let a reporter accompany them on their daily commute and discussed their identity conflicts and criticisms by their American counterparts. Students, their parents and some teachers spoke on the condition of anonymity so as not to jeopardize their enrollment.

Martha’s mother, a seamstress, never got beyond ninth grade. Several days a week, she rises at 2 a.m. to claim a place for her daughter in line — a border mom, instead of a soccer or a tiger mom. Martha’s family pitches in on the mortgage for a Chula Vista house, where members of the extended family live, and pays utilities to establish residency.