Community Essay : Immigrant’s Plaint: No Card, No Job; No Job, No Visa

One day late last year, I was among hundreds of hopeful newcomers joining the immigration line at Los Angeles International Airport. Excited, optimistic and not a little nervous, I stepped out into the sunshine of Southern California, land of warmth and opportunity.

Leaving my job, my apartment and my friends behind had not been easy. There were many last-minute traumas.

What should I do with my goldfish? How was I going to fit all the clothes I wouldn’t need but had to take into one small bag? What about my 1994 tax claim? Such worries were forgotten upon arrival. I had come to spend the rest of my life with the man I love, a green-card-holding British citizen, and to make the most of life. I had no idea how quickly my dreams would be killed by the problems ahead.

I had completed college in England, followed by a post-graduate certificate in education. I had three successful years of teaching in special education behind me.

With all these qualifications, I was confident that I would be able to find work. How wrong I was. To my horror (and after paying $150 and waiting for almost four months for my credentials to be evaluated by the state), I discovered that in California all my studying and experience is worth nothing. In order to teach in public schools here, I would have to go back to school to learn how to do what I had been doing perfectly happily and successfully.

Private schools would not accept me because I had no work visa; my explanation that if they would agree to sponsor me I would work for their lowest rate of pay and it would cost them nothing extra (my fiance and I would find the money to pay for the visa) was greeted with indifference or ignored.

Undaunted, if a little frustrated, I looked into other areas of child care, turning in the end to preschool. I had, after all, been working with some preschool-age children in my previous job and, judging by the number of advertisements in the local papers, there were a great many such positions available. After days on the telephone and numerous curt rejections, I eventually found a preschool that was prepared to interview me. With some persuasion, the head teacher kindly agreed to sponsor me. My troubles at last seemed over. I would be able to stay after all. As soon as my visa came through, my fiance and I could marry. I’d earn a small amount of money and eventually I might be able to do what I really wanted to do in the United States, teach children with special educational needs. After a night of celebration we rang our lawyer. The trouble was, she said, I was overqualified for the job. My application for a work visa dependent on such a low-paid position in a preschool would probably be rejected. Suddenly I felt as though I was a character in a Joseph Heller novel. According to the state of California I had almost no qualifications, which left me no option but to apply for jobs for which I was too highly qualified.

So here I am, back where I started six months ago. With my tourist visa expiring, I do not have many options. If we marry before I find a job, I will not be able to re-enter the United States as a tourist. If I then apply for a green card through my future husband, we will have to spend at least two years apart waiting for it to come through. If I stay I must join the thousands of illegal immigrants trying to survive in a state that seems increasingly unwilling to help them. All I wish for is to be allowed to pay taxes and earn my right to exist here.

Has it never occurred to the lawmakers of California and the United States that if they made it a little easier for people to work here legally, their problems might be fewer? This is a state with so much to offer so many. Just give us a chance to share our skills without fear or subterfuge.

Becky Edwards is still hoping for her visa.