The athletics department at Iowa State, which was supposed to make an objective and reasoned decision on whom to hire as its next men’s basketball coach, decided to make a nostalgic decision seemingly based on this magic.

I trust that you’re too smart to actually believe in “Hilton Magic.” You’re too smart to hire a popular ex-player as your head coach, despite the fact that he has no coaching experience whatsoever and no experience in the college game since his playing days.

You’re too smart to hire Fred Hoiberg. But apparently, the Iowa State brass are not.

Hoiberg, who played from 1991 to 1995, will be a popular hire in Ames. He didn’t earn the nickname “The Mayor” without a positive standing there. Hoiberg’s popularity is because of his fantastic career playing at Iowa State , which he parlayed into a solid NBA run. With Hoiberg, Iowa State is almost certain to sell more tickets this coming season.

Increased ticket sales can be used to improve a program that has suffered through five straight losing seasons. If Iowa State had a destitute fanbase, that might be reason enough to justify the hire. But Iowa State fans are passionate, and they pack Hilton Coliseum. The Cyclones still finished last season third in the conference in attendance — behind only Kansas and Texas.

Yes, Hoiberg will guarantee increased interest from some nostalgic fans. But you know what really increases ticket sales? Consistently winning. And do you hire someone who has never been a coach, on any level, if winning games is your goal? Apparently you do — but only if you’re Iowa State.

Before you point to Frank Martin’s success at Kansas State as a justification for hiring a coach with no college experience, remember that Martin had been a head coach years before he took the Kansas State job in 2007, albeit at the high school level. He also had experience as an assistant, working under Bob Huggins. Finally, and most importantly, Martin had numerous ties to Amateur Athletic Union circles, and thus could recruit top-tier players.

Hoiberg, on the other hand, hasn’t been any kind of a coach, on any level. Nor does he have any known connections in the AAU. Since his playing days, Hoiberg has served in the Minnesota Timberwolves’ front office, now one of the worst franchises in the NBA.

A better comparison than Martin would be Clyde Drexler, the early ’80s University of Houston star who returned to coach his alma mater in 1998. After two years and a 19-39 record, Drexler decided to “spend more time with his family” and resigned.

Which, barring some Gandalf-like wizardry, is how Hoiberg’s stint at Iowa State is likely to end.



The cop approaches Javier’s car. He’s sheer bulk confined in a brown uniform.

Javier is sick with fear. How could he have missed the speed trap? He knows what’s at stake. He’s 19 years old, a U. Kansas freshman from Kansas City, Kan., but he’s also here illegally, undocumented. If this cop finds out his secret, Javier could be arrested and shipped back to Mexico, a country he hasn’t seen since he was 5 years old.

Javier, whose name has been changed to protect his identity, frantically plans what he’ll say as he watches the cop draw nearer in the rearview mirror. He steps closer to the black VW Golf and gazes in at Javier.

“License and registration?”

Javier feels his hands trembling. He has no license because he is undocumented. On paper, he doesn’t exist. He tries to play it cool and hands the officer his registration and insurance.

“And your license?” the officer says.

Javier tries to calm his voice as he tells the cop what he will discover anyway.

“I don’t have one.”

And then the lie.

“I never got around to it.”

The officer asks for some form of ID. Javier hands him his KU ID, newly printed at orientation. The officer stares at it. Javier holds his breath.

“You’d better call someone to pick you up.”

The cop walks away, Javier’s ID in hand. Relief floods over him. His dream is still alive.

•••

Raul stumbles out of the bus and onto the asphalt. His bruised wrists ache from being handcuffed to another man during the long journey from the jail in Missouri where he was detained.

Guards with guns drawn toss the men’s belongings to the ground in plastic trash bags. Raul scrambles for his Bible, drawings of his godson and his $40 prison check, his parting gift from the U.S. government to start a new life in Mexico.

It is a year and a half and 750 miles from Raul’s 2007 graduation from U. Kansas. In that faraway life, he was the radiant example of success against all odds — a student senator, the first in his family to earn a college degree. Even now, as Raul stands at the Mexican border, his face beams from the Latino recruitment poster used by KU Admissions. On the poster, he is pictured below text in Spanish that reads: You Have a Home Here.

Then-Provost Richard Lariviere delivered an impassioned speech for diversity, using Raul’s story as a shining example: how he came from a poor family and worked full time to both support them and pay for his education, earning a degree in psychology.

“We must repeat his story thousands of times,” Lariviere told faculty.

Lariviere and those who heard that speech didn’t know that Raul, who came to the United States with his family in search of the American dream, was undocumented.

That dream crumbled into a nightmare only a year and a half after he walked down the hill at graduation. This time, he would walk across a bridge over the Rio Grande to another country and another life.

For Raul, life in limbo had ended.

•••

Each year, more than 65,000 undocumented students like Javier and Raul graduate from high schools in the United States. These students live in limbo: They grow up American, yet are not legal residents.

In Kansas, undocumented students can go to college. But in some states, including Missouri, it is illegal to attend public universities. Undocumented students can’t get Social Security numbers to work legally, driver’s licenses or college scholarships. They live in constant fear of deportation to countries that they don’t remember.

For students like Javier, living in limbo means that any at second, life as he knows it could be snatched away, as when Raul was sent back to Mexico.

“I was born there, but it’s not my home,” Javier said.

In high school, Javier felt lost. People noticed his flashy gold Supra high tops poking out from his school uniform khakis, but Javier himself receded into the shadows. The skinny kid with dark hair and glasses who speaks English without an accent was the only undocumented student at his private Catholic high school in Kansas City, Kan. The school had both rich and poor students, and he was from the poorer side. His parents take pride in their hard work that pays for their children’s education. His father, Javier Sr., is a painter; his mother, Ester, cleans houses. His sister, Ireri, 16, a popular girl who plays soccer and swims for the school team, is also undocumented.

Like other undocumented teenagers, Javier was hitting the many restrictions of his status. He didn’t have a driver’s license, so he couldn’t drive. He couldn’t legally work, either. He used a fake Social Security number to get his first job as a lifeguard at Roeland Park Aquatic Center. The manager assumed the faulty digits were a mistake and asked Javier to go home and check it out with his parents. Javier walked out and never went back.

“It was the first time I felt like I was undocumented,” Javier said. “It just hit me all of a sudden, like a wake-up call.”

During his junior year, friends started talking about college. They would ask him about his plans, and Javier would say he didn’t know.

He grew frustrated, but his mom was hopeful. Ester, 47, and Javier Sr., 46, came to this country so their children could get an education. Though they speak limited English, they dream of success in the United States for their children. Each night, Ester would ask Javier how his college search was going. She was sure there was a way for him to go.

When he visited his local college, the University of Missouri at Kansas City, the woman working at admissions gave a rousing speech about how the university welcomed people from all backgrounds. After listening, Javier felt hopeful enough to ask if that meant he could go too. She told him it’d be illegal for him to go to school in Missouri.

Sometimes the frustration would boil over. His mom would insist there was a way, and Javier would explode.

“You don’t know anything!” he snapped at her. “You know nothing about the laws!”

When he was done, Ester would calm him in Spanish: Have faith in God.

His parents started talking about sending him back to Mexico for college.

Javier hasn’t been to Mexico since he was 5. His friends are here. His life is here. Border enforcement is strict. If he went to Mexico, he might never be able to return home.

“That was my plan Z,” Javier said.

Worry about his future consumed his thoughts, but he found bravery through his art.

He spray-painted a canvas his senior year that now hangs in his bedroom. Standing bold against diagonal blue and red stripes is Muhammad Ali, poised and ready to fight.

“Muhammad Ali wasn’t scared of anything,” Javier said.

In between the lines of his own name, Javier painstakingly stenciled: I feel anxious, confused.

•••

Then, in February 2009, Javier visited the University with his friend and classmate, Juan. Juan had already applied to the University and wanted to major in business.

As Javier walked around the campus, he told himself: If I could go to any school, this is where I’d go.

Now, the pair stood in a crowd of prospective students and parents outside Alderson Auditorium in the Kansas Union.

“Just ask,” Juan nudged Javier.

“I already know it’s no,” Javier said.

As Javier looked at his feet, he flashed back to his visit to UMKC. Why would this be any different?

“Ask,” Juan insisted.

He had known Javier since they were in kindergarten — he was used to pushing his more reserved friend. He had already dragged him to this visit.

“Do you want me to do it?” Juan said.

“I don’t care,” said Javier, relenting so Juan would stop asking.

Juan approached Greg Valdovino, KU’s assistant director of multicultural recruitment.

“So, I have this friend who’s illegal — can he go to school here?”

Only a few feet away, Javier heard the response and couldn’t believe it.

“No problem,” Valdovino said.

Kansas has made higher education possible for students like Javier since 2004. Kansas is one of only 11 states to grant in-state tuition to undocumented students who attend high school in state. Though opponents voiced fears that colleges in Kansas would be inundated with undocumented students, an average of only 251 students per year have received in-state tuition because of this law since 2005, according to the Kansas Board of Regents.

Of the 316 undocumented students who received in-state tuition in Kansas in 2009, only 10 attend this University, the Board of Regents reports.

The bill, called the Kansas Dream Act, makes the dream of a college education possible for students like Javier.

He couldn’t wait to tell his mom.

•••

When he heard his mom yell, “I’m home!” in Spanish, Javier bounded up the stairs from his basement room into the kitchen.

He launched into a description of the visit to the University. He saved the best for last: “I can go,” he said in Spanish, smiling.

Ester squealed with joy and grabbed Javier, squeezing him tight.

“I told you so,” Ester said in Spanish, kissing her son.

“I was happier for her than I was for me,” he recalled.

•••

Ester called Valdovino, and he explained everything to her in Spanish.

Javier would have to meet the same entrance requirements as any applicant, and he wouldn’t be eligible for federal financial aid. That makes attending the University an impossible dream for undocumented students who fall below the poverty line.

All Javier had to do was sign an affidavit that he had gone to high school in Kansas and was attempting to pursue citizenship.

Then Ester asked the question she feared the answer to: Would Javier be safe from discrimination … and worse?

Valdovino explained that the law required confidentiality. Immigration and customs officials could not come to the University and ask for students’ citizenship information.

Javier applied.

•••

Two months later, the TV was blaring in Ireri’s room, but Javier’s younger sister could still hear the sudden screams.

Visions of what might have happened cloud her mind. She dashes into the living room. Javier is grinning. Her mother is hopping with excitement and yelling into the phone in Spanish.

“Lo aceptaron!”

A letter lies open on the table.

Ireri starts shouting, too.

Javier’s father comes in. “What’s all the commotion?” he asks his giddy family.

“Javier got into KU!”

Javier Sr.’s eyes glisten.

“Good job, son,” he says.

•••

Javier Sr.’s van pulled up outside of McCollum on move-in day. Javier was both embarrassed and proud that the world could see Ireri’s message painted across the windows: KU — here comes Javier.

Everyone in Javier’s family wore KU gear to move Javier into his dorm room.

Javier watched his mom. Yeah, she spoke Spanish, but she was like every other mom there. On move-in day, all moms flutter around, worried. Ester was beside herself.

When the family drove away, despite his vows not to cry, Javier Sr. was the first one in tears.

•••

“Are you in your room?” Ester’s voice sounded upset.

“No,” said Javier. He was talking on his cell phone, walking back from class on a sunny October afternoon.

“Call me when you are back there,” his mother requested.

Javier suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Something bad had happened.

He called her back. His mother’s 40-year-old brother, Javier’s uncle Alex, had been murdered in Mexico.

He had been shot in the gang warfare consuming Mexico. The drug war killed more than 6,000 people last year and has prompted some security analysts to warn that Mexico is in danger of becoming a failed state.

Alone in his McCollum room, Javier hurled anything he could find at the wall.

His uncle had been the ladies’ man, the life of the party. He made everybody laugh. He had just settled down — he was married, just had his second baby. Now, he was gone.

Undocumented, the family couldn’t go to Mexico for the funeral. If they did, they might never be able to return to the United States. In recent years, the Department of Homeland Security has put up 44 miles of tall fencing dividing the Juarez Valley from Texas and has doubled the number of Border Patrol agents.

•••

Sometimes, Javier thinks about being deported and about the violence in Mexico.

Chihuahua, the Mexican state south of Texas where his family lives, is terrorized by the narcotics war.

When he talks to his grandmother on the phone, she describes hearing the pop of AK-47s firing outside her window.

Javier worries most about having to build an entirely new life in Mexico. His grandmother, aunts and uncles live in a tiny city in the desert.

“It’d be like starting over in a foreign country,” he said.

He also worries about losing the relationships he has here. He started dating his first steady girlfriend during his senior year of high school. A year later, he is still dating Haley, the blonde and bubbly girl who charmed his family at his sister’s quinceñera, the celebration that marks a young Latina’s 15th birthday and her corresponding transition to adulthood. The only gringa at the party, Haley kicked up her heels with his family and stayed to clean up afterward.

That night, he had his friends sneak outside to scrawl a prom invitation across the windshield of Haley’s car. They started dating the day after prom.

Haley is from the right side of the tracks. Her parents are professionals. Before Javier, she had never known someone who was undocumented.

“My parents have always raised me to be open minded and aware of other people,” she said.

The summer after they started dating, they talked about the big “what if” — what if Javier got deported? Javier tried to play it cool, like he wasn’t scared so he could convince her it wasn’t a problem.

But Haley worries.

“It’s definitely in the back of your mind … you know, what if … this happened,” she said.

Her voice catches. She regains composure and says, “People think it’s hard to do long distance relationships in college. Well, it’s even harder in another country.”

Javier knows Haley will be there for him. In his darkest hours, Javier plans how he might get back to her if was deported.

•••

Javier knows there is no practical way to legalize his status. His family came in 1995 on tourist visas. The visas expired, but the family stayed.

When Javier turned 18, he became an unlawful resident of the United States. Unlawful presence, which begins only when a person becomes a legal adult, is what typically bars a person from changing his visa status.

Javier’s only hope to change his status would be if he had a spouse or a child who was a U.S. citizen.

The proposed DREAM Act could allow him legal status.

DREAM, an acronym for the Development, Relief and Education Act for Alien Minors, is bipartisan legislation that addresses the plight of young people who immigrated as undocumented children, grew up here, stayed in school and kept out of trouble.

Introduced in 2001, it stalled in Congress in 2003 and again in 2007. In March 2009, it was reintroduced.

Javier holds out for that slim hope.

•••

Javier goes home to Kansas City most weekends to see his family and Haley, a freshman at Rockhurst. She keeps him motivated when the barriers of being undocumented trip him up, whether it is the embarrassment of having Haley drive everywhere even though she says she doesn’t mind, the pain of his uncle’s death and the separation from his family in Mexico, or the possibility that he could be deported.

Haley is a regular visitor at the tidy burnt orange bungalow that stands out from the muted white and grey of its neighbors. In a row of yards where weeds compete with trash, the neatness of Javier Sr., and Ester’s enclosed lawn seems to gleam.

On the front of the house, a small sign proclaims, “Jayhawk fans live here.”

Inside, Ester flips hot tortillas onto plates. She fusses over her children and husband, making sure everyone has enough to eat. Javier tells his father a story in between heaping bites of menudo, a traditional Mexican soup. Ireri glances up from her phone to grin at her brother. The family is talking and laughing, but living in limbo, not knowing when the life they have here could end.

Raul is disoriented as he stands next to the bus. It’s September 2008, and he is miles away from anyone or anything he knows, staring at the bridge before him.

It begins to rain.

The 75 deportees pass through border check-in points — small structures that resemble tollbooths — and then onto Del Río-Ciudad Acuña International Bridge. It crosses over the Rio Grande and connects, yet divides, two countries, two worlds.

Raul tries to move quickly: He doesn’t want to get wet, and he doesn’t want to get left behind. Gang members are lurking across the border, waiting to rob any stragglers. It’s hard to keep up — the guards took his shoelaces and his belt.

For a minute, Raul pauses. One chapter of his life is over. As the rain pelts his back and he walks back into Mexico, he thinks, I have to change my plan completely.

•••

Not so long before, Raul’s plan had been different.

Raul, now 26, graduated from the University in 2007 with high hopes and frequent worries. He wanted to get a master’s degree, but he was worried about finding a good job, about caring for his family. One day, he wanted to take his godson to visit his homeland of Mexico.

He never dreamed his arrival back in Mexico would be like this: dropped at the border after being arrested at his workplace in Olathe and deported five months later.

•••

These days, it is hard for Raul to remember his life in Lawrence.

But people here remember him.

His mentor, Juan Izaguirre, assistant director of the Multicultural Resource Center, remembers Raul as the first to volunteer for activities — even if it meant moving around shifts at work.

Friends remember him as “always on the go” as he balanced responsibilities and his academics, his job, his family, his friends and his fraternity.

After the Provost’s speech praising him, those who didn’t know Raul now did. Yeah, he was quiet, but he had flair. He was the kid who went to a U.S. Hispanic Leadership Institute Conference wearing a sherbet green suit. He had a leather jacket decorated with fake $100 bills. He wore sparkling earrings he insisted were diamonds. Friends called him “Flash” or “Speed Racer.” Even people who didn’t know him personally knew his hair — shaved in intricate designs.

But few knew his whole story.

•••

In 1999, when Raul was 16, his parents started talking about making the journey North.

His father had worked as a salesman for the Sabritas potato chip plant in Tijuana, a rough industrial border town in northern Mexico close to San Diego, but he lost the benefits that would help him pay for Raul’s higher education.

Education had almost mythical qualities for the Raul’s family. His parents finished only middle school and were sure they struggled in life because they were uneducated. More than anything, they wanted a better life for their children.

Raul didn’t want to move to a foreign land where he was sure people would look down on him because he couldn’t speak English.

He didn’t know his parents were serious about the move until they started selling the family’s belongings.

Then, he asked his mother: “Why are we going?”

“Because we are a family,” she said, “and families stick together.”

Raul started studying English.

The family crossed using tourist visas. His parents decided on Kansas and moved to Kansas City, Kan., with their four children: Raul, his younger brothers Hugo and Sergio, and his sister Claudette.

Raul learned English quickly at a rough urban school in an industrial area of Kansas City, Kan. His first quarter, he enrolled in every English as a Second Language class he could. By the beginning of the second quarter he was enrolled in regular English classes. He graduated with a 3.98 GPA and went on to Johnson County Community College for the 2001-2002 school year. There, he first learned how fragile his dream was.

•••

“It’s expired,” the customs agent at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport stated, holding Raul’s passport and staring at him.

Raul was shocked. It hadn’t been a problem on the way down. He had spent two weeks on a service trip to Jalisco, Mexico, through Johnson County Community College. The students volunteered at a community of low-income families called Las Pintas. They needed an interpreter, and Raul, eager to help, had signed up.

On the way down, his passport and tourist visa were no problem.

But during the trip, his passport had expired, and Raul could no longer legally enter the United States.

Authorities separated Raul from the other students and took him into custody. There, he signed a voluntary deportation form and was placed on the next flight back to Jalisco.

Frustrated, alone and 19 years old, he cried the entire flight.

•••

Trapped in Mexico, Raul had only two thoughts on his mind: his family and his education. He worried about his brothers. His parents worked more than 80 hours a week at two jobs, and Raul had acted as a father figure to Hugo and Sergio. He knew the family was hurting without his income and guidance.

He decided to make the journey back. He tried to go legally first by applying for a visa, but it was denied.

The only other option was crossing illegally. Desperate to go home, Raul paid a coyote, a guide who transports undocumented migrants, to lead him across the desert that spans the border between the U.S. and Mexico.

Raul remembers the desert as dark and cold. They traveled at night, and he wasn’t able to sleep for almost a week. In the middle of his journey, he was robbed of the only money he was carrying — 20 pesos, roughly equivalent to $2.

Border Patrol officials, la migra, arrested some members of his group, but Raul ran without looking back and escaped capture.

Raul kept thinking about his family, knowing that his mom would suffer if he didn’t make it. He thought about his education. He had visited the University during high school and thought he was destined to go there.

•••

Raul made it back and enrolled in fall 2003. Then, in the spring of 2004, his father was deported. Raul dropped out of school and worked 75 hours a week to support his family.

He returned to the University in spring 2005, when his father re-entered the United States. Raul thrived in the classroom, yet he continued to work two jobs. He slept as little as two hours a night.

“I was born and raised to work physically until I drop dead tired,” Raul said. “That’s how my mom and dad work.”

Even though he was juggling family, academic and job responsibilities, he was active in Sigma Lambda Beta fraternity, the International Student Association and the Hispanic American Leadership Organization. He practiced step dancing, a vibrant form of dance traditional to many Hispanic and black fraternities and performed in the University step show for three years.

He was an inspiration to his friends.

“He helped us, whether he knew it or not, in that way that we looked at him and said — if he can do it, so can we,” said Eloy Gallegos, a KU alumnus and a 2008 graduate and Raul’s friend. “He helped us indirectly with his attitude and his character. He’d make us laugh all the time. I don’t ever remember him saying, ‘No, this cannot be done.’”

Raul’s family came to his graduation in May 2007. Raul felt happy, proud, successful — everything a graduate should feel. He also felt a huge responsibility as a Latino with a college degree and the first member of his family to get a degree. He had a future but not the one he expected.

•••

It was 10 a.m. on April 17, 2008, almost a year after Raul’s graduation. Raul was eating lunch in his cubicle at an Olathe car dealership where he worked as a salesman, when a detective arrived.

The detective said he was looking for Raul.

He began to question him.

When Raul truthfully answered all of his questions, the officer put him in handcuffs and took him to jail.

•••

Raul’s mother was at home, cleaning the house on her day off.

The phone rang.

It was Raul. He had been arrested.

Pain washed over her. All of his accomplishments are useless now, she thought.

•••

The family sought help at Raul’s alma mater.

The message on Juan Izaguirre’s phone was from someone named Claudette. Izaguirre, in the Multicultural Resource Center, didn’t recognize the name, but the caller introduced herself as Raul’s sister.

She told Izaguirre something he couldn’t believe. The talented student he had known for four years was in trouble. He had been arrested. He would be deported.

She wanted to know if Izaguirre — who had coached him, been part of his fraternity, had hired him for HawkLink — could help him.

Izaguirre had no idea Raul was undocumented.

His first thought: Oh my god. Why didn’t I know?

His second thought: I’m paralyzed. He felt his hands were tied. He had hired Raul that summer as part of the HawkLink program. Even though he had no idea at the time that Raul was undocumented, it is illegal to hire an undocumented worker.

Izaguirre told Claudette that on an institutional level, as a KU employee, there was nothing he could legally do to help Raul.

On a personal level, he’d do anything the family needed.

She never called him back.

•••

Raul was sentenced to four months in prison. The charge? Identity theft. Raul had been using someone else’s Social Security number so he could work.

He was transferred four times to different prisons in Missouri and Kansas. Upon completion of his prison term, he was transferred to Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the largest investigative agency of the Department of Homeland Security.

ICE officials questioned him repeatedly, trying to get him to sign deportation papers. Raul refused. Finally, it didn’t matter whether he had signed them. His deportation date was set. Raul never appeared before an immigration judge.

•••

In September 2008, Raul was taken by bus to the border, a trip that lasted three to four days because of the many stops and starts. Raul was handcuffed the entire journey, sometimes to the man next to him.

It wasn’t until he was actually there, standing in Ciudad Acuña in the state of Coahuila, Mexico, that he closed the chapter on his American life.

In the Grupo Beta aid center, Raul wearily called his grandmother in Mexico City and prepared to move there.

He ran hot water over his aching red wrists and worried about his parents and siblings back in Kansas City.

•••

They have many reminders of him.

His flashy red car, damaged in a wreck, now sits in the family’s yard.

His mother recalls how Raul would come home after classes, sit at the dining room table and in the moments before his departure for work, tell her about his day and all the things he had learned.

Raul’s absence is a special loss for his younger brother Sergio, 16. He remembers trying to translate complex mail into Spanish for his parents shortly after Raul left.

“It was overwhelming, having to do all that grown up stuff while I am still just trying to settle down,” he said. “It’s a big responsibility.”

In Mexico, Raul dreams about his family.

“A lot of times, I want to go to sleep and not wake up, not because I want to die but because I see them in my dreams, and in my dreams, nothing stands before us, no borders — nothing,” he said.

Raul texts or calls his family daily, but the technology available to him in Mexico City isn’t good, and he doesn’t always have access to the Internet or phone service.

Eloy Gallegos, his friend at the University, thinks about Raul and others like him.

“There are hundreds of Rauls in Lawrence. We just don’t know them,” he said. “It’s about putting yourself in their shoes. Would you be able to work a 12-hour shift and then go to class and somewhere in that process make time to sleep? It’s about opportunities in front of you — becoming better than what your parents are.”

•••

Raul’s new life is worlds away from his old one. He returned to his family in Mexico City and now lives with his grandmother, aunt and uncle in a suburb. Each day, he volunteers at an old cinderblock house converted into CAMISE school, a school for children with special needs. CAMISE, which serves 35 children from low-income families, is in Tultitla’n, one of the most dangerous and poorest parts of the city. On weekdays, Raul works with children with Down syndrome and cerebral palsy. To make ends meet, he sells sporting goods at flea markets over the weekend.

“If you have a college education here, they treat you like a god,” he said. “But there are still no jobs.”

Raul says that what matters in Mexico is who you know. Unlike in the United States, where a hard-working person from any background has a chance at success, in Mexico, you have to have contacts.

Raul no longer has money to buy flashy clothes or jewelry. Even if he did, it would be too dangerous to wear them.

Nice tennis shoes are an invitation to be mugged.

The kid formerly known as “Flash” has to dress down in Mexico.

Raul now dreams of helping those around him: He wants his grandmother, uncles, aunts and cousins to feel safe when they leave their homes. He wants to help people at the community center where he works. He wants to get the kids wheelchairs and walkers and to raise awareness about impoverished places like the one he lives in now.

He dreams of change, but he knows they are just dreams.

Sometimes, Raul goes online and looks at the KU website — and he remembers.

“It just seems like another planet,” he said.

Recent speculation that the Big Ten Conference could add one or more members in the near future has caused some concern — and excitement — among U. Illinois coaches and athletes.

The biggest issue could be the distances teams would likely have to travel if the conference added schools outside the Midwest.

Making another trip to the East Coast, for example, would take a bigger chunk out of the University’s budget than the current setup, and it would cause some athletes to miss class more often than they already do.

“This year we had about a 12-hour trip to get to Penn State,” men’s tennis head coach Brad Dancer said. “When we look at expansion, it’s probably going to be driven by finances and revenue opportunities, but I hope that when they look at that they do look at the logistics in terms of missed class time and other factors that are associated with that.”

Baseball head coach Dan Hartleb said while road trips may be extended, the benefits of expanding the conference would cancel out the drawbacks of the extra travel.

“You could have someplace where you have further travel, maybe another flight,” Hartleb said. “But that stuff will all be considered, and if it brings more revenue to the entire conference, then there’s going to be money there for us to travel.”

Some athletes may not notice or care too much about the increase in distance that expansion could bring.

“Obviously, we travel a good amount as it is right now,” sophomore tennis player Dennis Nevolo said. “I don’t know how much we’d realize it if they did add another school. Clearly, it’d be a long trip (to the East Coast), and we probably don’t want to travel too far again. But if that’s how it happens, then that’s just how it is.”

Illinois softball’s Audrey Gallien said any disadvantages of adding teams would be negated by the positives another team could bring.

“Every softball program is getting better and better every year, and to add that much more competition to the conference would just be great all around, in terms of competition and camaraderie,” Gallien said.

“We’d miss more school, obviously, but it’s a great opportunity,” Gallien added.

The Big Ten began as a seven-school conference in 1895. The original members were Illinois, Michigan, Minnesota, Northwestern, Purdue, Wisconsin and the University of Chicago. Indiana and Iowa joined four years later, and Ohio State joined in 1912 to bring the number of members to 10. Chicago left the conference in 1946 and was replaced by Michigan State three years later.

The conference first expanded to 11 schools in 1990 with the addition of Penn State. A decision resolving current expansion discussions will not be announced until at least December.

Schools that have been included in the expansion rumors include (in no particular order): Pittsburgh, Rutgers, Syracuse, Missouri, Notre Dame, Texas and, to a lesser extent, Connecticut and Maryland. Notre Dame turned down an offer to join the Big Ten in 1999.

“Everyone talks about possibly bringing in Texas,” Dancer said. “I know that might be a pie-in-the-sky dream, but everyone’s got an understanding of what kind of revenue that potentially brings in, too.”

Schools joining the conference would likely need to be members of the Association of American Universities, an organization of universities to support research, which could rule out Connecticut and Notre Dame — unless the benefits of adding either school trump the importance of AAU membership.

All 11 current Big Ten schools are AAU members, which no other Division I conference can claim.

The extended travel would either cause long road trips or a two-division conference, splitting it either north-south or east-west. Softball head coach Terri Sullivan said she wouldn’t be in favor of splitting the conference, which would have the Illini facing fewer teams and possibly playing three-game series instead of the current setup of two-game series.

“I don’t particularly care for that,” Sullivan said. “That’s what the SEC has to do — they’re split into two divisions and then they join up at the end. I’ve just always been a big fan of being able to play everybody in the conference. I’d go nuts if I was in football and wasn’t able to.

“You find a true conference winner by playing each other.”

No matter how many teams are added — if any — Hartleb thinks the Big Ten will remain one of the premier conferences in the country.

“I don’t mind one way or the other,” Hartleb said. “I think our setup’s very good right now. I think if you bring more teams into the mix, it just adds a new dimension. If it’s what’s best for the entire conference, I’m all for it.”

On Wednesday morning, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement located what they believe to be the deceased body of Florida State U. graduate student Vincent Binder in a field near I-95 and State Road 16, according to Tallahassee Police Department.

Upon TPD’s announcement, FSU president Eric J. Barron released a statement.

“It is difficult to comprehend the senseless nature of such violence, especially for a promising young person with a full life ahead of him,” said Barron. “Our hearts are with Vince’s family and friends, and we will provide the full support of the university to them as we mourn with them.”

Binder’s friends and colleagues reported Binder missing on April 8 after he failed to report to his job as a teaching assistant in the Communications department. He was last seen around 12:30 a.m. on Friday, April 2 when he left a friend’s house.

An initial search of Binder’s apartment on the day he was reported missing was unsuccessful. The next day, investigators from TPD’s Special Victim’s unit reviewed Binders financial and phone records, which led investigators Anne Johnson and Greg Wilder to Miami on Friday, April 9.

As investigators continued their work in Miami, TPD received notification from the South Florida U.S. Marshal’s Task Force about the discovery of an abandoned black Chevrolet pickup with evidence that linked the car to the Tallahassee area. The task force had been searching for the car because it was believed to have been involved in the escape of three jail inmates from Avoyelles Parish, La.

It quickly became apparent that the three fugitives might have been involved in two robberies in Tallahassee and possibly the disappearance of Binder.

Inside the car, U.S. Marshalls discovered a Florida I.D. card belonging to Chris Pavlish of Tallahassee, maps of Tallahassee and an ATM receipt from Binder’s account in the car. Pavlish was robbed earlier the same day of Binder’s disappearance around the same area where Binder was last seen. Another robbery, less than mile away, also lists matching vehicle and suspect descriptions.

The ATM receipt was the one clue that first linked the fugitives to Binder’s disappearance.

Further investigation listed in the TPD report and reported by the Democrat, indicates that Binder’s credit/debit card was used at ATMs and gas stations in Tallahassee, Madison, Jacksonville and various locations along I-95 South.

TPD worked closely with Florida Department of Law Enforcement and U.S. Marshal’s Service, aiding the South Florida U.S. Marshal’s Task Force in the arrest of the three escaped inmates found hiding near a Budget Inn hotel in Miami.

All three escapees, Kentrell Johnson, Quentin Truehill and Peter Hughes, were arrested without incident and later interviewed by investigators from the Tallahassee Police Department.

All three men have been charged with the kidnapping in Binder’s case. The investigation is currently ongoing.

A threatening comment on the Facebook page for KnightNews will have U. Central Florida police on high alert through the night and into tomorrow.

Move over, Twitter.

Out of the way, Facebook.

There’s a new social networking sheriff in town.

Foursquare, a navigation-based cell phone application, is becoming one of the fastest growing avenues to connect with friends while being rewarded at the same time.

“Foursquare is all about get out and do things in the real world and be rewarded for them,” Dennis Crowley, co-founder of Foursquare said. “You’re rewarded points for being of interest and going to new places and meeting new people.”

The application uses the built-in GPS system of iPhones, Androids, Blackberrys and Palm Pres to track a person’s location.

Once a person arrives at a certain location, he or she can “check in” to that location by finding it on a list of nearby places.

If the institution is not listed, it can be added to the list by the user.

Twitter and Facebook are incorporated into the application, as a person’s location is broadcasted back out to the user’s accounts to alert friends of his or her location.

Each “check in” results in the accumulation of points that go toward earning badges and being “mayor” of a specific place.

“Mayor” status is attained by checking in to a certain spot more than anybody else.

Coffee shops, parks, museums, bars and restaurants are just some of the places in which a person can “check in.”

“You earn a lot of badges for doing a combination of things like going to multiple karaoke places and staying out real late or going to a lot of museums or coffee shops,” said Crowley.

Crowley said he came up with the idea of Foursquare in January 2009 as a way to reward people for exploring their towns and being social.

The application was launched in March 2009 and currently has more than one million users.

Crowley said having two versions of the application—an SMS version and a mobile web version—allows virtually every phone to use Foursquare.

Lizzy Robbins, and Auburn U. junior, got the application for her phone last week after hearing about it from friends.

“My roommates (and I), we all have it,” Robbins said.

Robbins said while she still uses other social networking sites such as Facebook just as much as Foursquare, she constantly finds herself using her newest application with her friends.

“(We check in) every time we go to a different building so you get more points,” Robbins said.

Robbins said she likes Foursquare because she can always know where her friends are, including people from other states.

“I told my friend in Tennessee to get it so she does it now,” Robbins said. “I can see where she is.”

Joshua Hillyer, an Auburn professor in communication, became familiar with Foursquare through interaction with friends..

“I suppose Foursquare makes individuals strive for achievements through the repetition of tasks,” Hillyer said. “Not unlike massive multiplayer games, which have certainly proven their popularity in recent years.”

While Hillyer said social networking can be positive or negative depending on what a person makes of it, he considers himself a fan of social networking sites.

“I like using social networking sites to keep in touch with people I don’t have the opportunity to see anymore,” Hillyer said. “And to conduct quick opinion polls on things happening in the media.”

Crowley said the application’s popularity relates to people’s desire to make their lives simple.

He darts into classrooms and distracts tours.

His naked, silver body attracting the eye of all who see him.

Particularly the police officers who arrested him on Auburn U.’s campus Friday afternoon.

“I can confirm on April 23, Friday, at 12:02 a.m. we arrested a William Hudson,” said Capt. Tom Stofer of the Auburn Police Department. “(We) arrested him and charged him with public lewdness, public intoxication and resisting arrest.”

Hudson was taken to the Lee County Detention Center after his arrest, Stofer said.

Phi Delta Theta Chapter President Chris Mills denied rumors that the streaking stunt is a tradition that kicks off the fraternity spring party.

“He was not streaking,” Mills said, “he had an article of clothing on.”

This spring’s Mercury Man wore silver paint, a silver winged bike helmet and a jockstrap.

While winging his way across campus he darted into James McKelly’s noon Survey of American Literature II class in the Haley Center.

“I was just talking to another girl in my class and I looked up and there was a naked silver guy leaning over a desk,” said Brittnee Handley, senior in English, and student in the class. “I just thought it was some stupid fraternity stunt, to be honest.”

Mercury Man was accompanied by another man with a video camera who was recording the stunt, said Dale Stinson, senior in English, who was also in the class.

Stinson said the streaker seemed really out of breath and mentioned that he thought the classroom was really hot.

Stinson said Mecury Man was not in the room for more than a few minutes, and, soon after, students by the window saw him being arrested on the Concourse between the Haley Center and the Student Center.

Courtni Ward, sophomore in international business and Spanish, and her tour group of approximately 15 prospective students also got an eyeful of Mercury Man.

“When we were on top of Haley, one of the parents pointed out that the streaker was running across the Concourse and there was a guy following him on a bike videotaping him,” Ward said. “My first instinct was to get them away, because I didn’t want anything bad to influence their decision.”

However, in addition to the topless tomfoolery, the group also received a lesson in campus safety.

As Ward was trying to hustle her group away from the nudity, Hudson was arrested.

Mills refused to elaborate because he said the issue hasn’t been straightened out with the Interfraternity Council.

A basic knowledge of how to invest in the stock market is an important financial skill. Yet many find penetrating the mysteries of Wall Street to be a rather daunting task. After the market turmoil of the past couple of years, people are understandably hesitant to risk their savings. It is more secure, however, for college students to invest in stocks than older people. Because students in their late teens and early 20s have a longer time horizon to recoup any losses, they can take more risks in growing companies and are not just confined to steady dividend-paying blue-chip stocks or fixed income bonds. Blue chip, which borrows its name from the highest-value poker chip, is a term that describes the stocks of well-known and established companies with a record of steady earnings such as Exxon Mobil, AT&T or Microsoft.

In addition, the earlier you start investing, the more money you will accumulate from both growth and dividends. That being said, you should only invest with discretionary funds that you would be relatively OK with losing. You should not use your basic savings or the money you are setting aside for your next Spring Break trip to Cancun. Fortunately, investing is now much easier and cheaper to undertake than it was in the past because of Internet brokerage sites such as thinkorswim or E-Trade that allow you to buy and sell stocks online for low commissions.

The first challenge is to try to choose which companies to invest in. An easy way to generate some ideas is to think about companies you are familiar with. For example, if you like products from Ford, Nike or Chipotle, chances are others like those products, too. Investing should be enjoyable, and by investing in familiar companies, you will be more engaged and involved, especially if your stock picks go up.

After you figure out which company interests you, it is critically important to know what the business does and how it makes money before you invest in it. A good test for this is if you can explain the chosen company’s business model to a 10-year-old. If you can teach how a business works, then you know its business model, as well. If the business model is confusing or overly complicated, leave it to the experts.

Next, see if the company you like is in an industry with high barriers to entry, called a ‘moat’ in the investing world. Ask yourself, “If I wanted to, could I go into business in this field?” Some businesses, such as commercial aircraft manufacturing, are very hard to set up. You would have to raise enormous amounts of capital and hire hundreds of mechanics, engineers and other specialists to start an aviation company. Other types of businesses, like fast-food chains, are relatively easy to set up. Although there certainly are good investing opportunities in industries with lots of competition, it helps to have high barriers to entry.

In addition, look for companies with a stable management team and healthy finances. To find this information, you will need to go to a website like Yahoo or Google Finance and enter the company’s ticker symbol. Then find the income statement, which is found under the ‘Financials’ icon. Click on the income statement and look at the company’s net income, which is found at the bottom of the income statement. Numbers in parenthesis on Yahoo Finance or in red on Google Finance mean the company has lost money, while numbers in black indicate the company has made a profit. Notice the trend in these numbers for the past couple of quarters and years. Even if the company has lost money in a certain year or quarter, this might be explainable and not necessarily make the company a bad investment. Also take a look at the company’s management. Has the CEO been with the firm for 20 years, or has the company hired and fired three CEOs during the past five years?

Finally, just like you have to study for your classes to do well in them, you must do a little homework in the financial markets. Forbes.com has good, free articles about the economy and stocks. The Wall Street Journal is a good source, too, especially in the Money and Investing section. Investor’s Business Daily also is useful and many financial blogs offer helpful investment advice. There are many other resources at your disposal beyond the media. If your parents have a brokerage account with a firm, ask them to request a company analysis report from their stockbroker. Additionally, if you go the company’s website, there should be a tab that says “Investors” or “Investor Relations.” Find the contact number for “Investor Relations” — a person in the company who you can call and ask whatever questions you may have.

Overall, profitable companies with good business models, high barriers to entry and steady leadership are compelling investing ideas. Just like any skill, investing takes practice and the sooner you start — and you should start gradually — the better off you will be in the long run. Obviously there is much more to investing than what is outlined in this article, but a grasp of these simple concepts can make you a better investor.

Disclaimer note: I do not endorse the buying or selling of any of the stocks named in this article, and I do not take responsibility for any potential losses you may incur from investing in the stock market. Past performance does not guarantee future outcomes.

Ties are the worst. Luckily, most of the players who have to ingest the terrible test of tying are given a chance for redemption, a chance to play again.

But in 1989 there was a group of 46 New Jersey hockey players that did not get a chance to break the tie. For 21 years they have had to live with the knowledge that they were co-champions, and since then have had to ask themselves, “What if?”  That was of course, until this spring.

In 1989 there was not only one New Jersey high school hockey champion, there were two.  The St. Joe’s (Montvale) Green Knights and the Delbarton Green Wave were head and shoulders above the rest of their competition and were on a collision course to meet in the state finals.

After they both won their respective semi-final games, the stage was set for the highly anticipated title game. But during the week leading up to the big game there was an outbreak of the measles on Delbarton’s campus.  The New Jersey State Interscholastic Athletic Association decided that it would be best to cancel the game and dubbed the two hockey powerhouses co-champions.

It was a time in which high school hockey was not grabbing the top headlines in the morning paper, and no one was talking about it on the Internet…because there was no Internet.  The outcry over the canceled game was minimal, and people went about their weeks as if nothing happened. But those 46 hockey players were left in turmoil, left never knowing if they could have lived their dream.  And 21 years later they decided to do something about it.

For the 20th anniversary, one of Delbarton’s captains, Mike Pendy was interviewed about the game that never was, and said: “Maybe we could get all these guys together 20 years later, lace up the skates somewhere and play that game.” Pendy was simply kidding, but the public ran with it and the papers began rounding up all of the players from 1989.

When it was all said and done they were able to bring 40 out of the 46 players back to the Garden State to settle this once and for all.

But the men who returned were not the men who left all of those years ago. Some were accountants, while others were doctors and bartenders.  However, two players, Kenny Blum of St. Joe’s and Delbarton’s Derek Maguire, were both taken in the ninth round of the 1989 NHL Draft. Blum went to the Minnesota North Stars while Maguire got selected by the Montreal Canadiens. Except for those two, most of the players were no longer in shape, and only a few of them still had equipment that fit them.

Despite the two-decade layoff, the players went out to the pro-shops and bought new pads, sharpened their skates and taped their sticks because they had some unfinished business to take care of.  Adding to their incentive to return to the ice, the players thought that they could do a lot of good by making it a charity event. One of the players suggested that the proceeds ought to go to cancer-related charities, including the NHL’S Hockey Fights Cancer initiative. Many of the players have had experiences with family members and cancer and thought that it was the right thing to do.

The two teams flirted with the idea of playing the game at the Prudential Center in Newark, N.J., home to the NHL’s New Jersey Devils, but then decided to hold the game at Mennen Arena in northern New Jersey.  Mennen Arena was the location that was originally the set location for the missed event in 1989.

The night had finally arrived. Twenty-one years of pent up aggression was about to explode on a single sheet of ice between a bunch of old men. Approximately 2,500 fans and tons of reporters, including ABC, CBS, NBC and even The Wall Street Journal, packed the small arena to see this game finally be played.

The event raised over $200,000 for charity, and young cancer victims dropped the ceremonial opening draw. Governor Chris Christie was on hand with his family to commemorate the event.

The spectacle that they had created was a small matter to the game itself.  The Green Knights dominated the contest early but had no goals to show for it.  The Wave answered at the end of the first period by poking in three goals past the goalie.

St. Joe’s refused to quit and scored two goals in the third.  The Wave, however, surged at the end of the game to stave off the St. Joe’s comeback to take the game, the title and the 21 years of history.

After all of the work, anxiety, wondering and practicing, the players realized that this game was not about who won. They had changed since they were younger.  Their definition of winning had changed as well.

And suddenly they realized that being able to play the game they loved in front of the people they loved was a victory and definitely worth the wait.

For New Jersey hockey, the game will always remain the “greatest game never played,” but now those players got to relive their glory years in front of their families and finally play this game that had been frozen in time.

Approximately 40-60 graduating Villanova seniors pursue post-graduate volunteer work each year, many of whom enter alternative teaching programs, according to the Office of Campus Ministry’s Web site.

Such programs include Teach for America, Alliance for Catholic Education, Operation Teach, Response-Ability, Blue Engine Fellows and others.  Each program varies in how teachers are trained and placed within schools.

Many programs provide intense training in the summer and throughout the school year, as teachers gain valuable on-the-job experience while earning a starting teacher’s salary.

Some programs are locally based, serving disadvantaged schools within a single city. Others are nationally or internationally based, serving many areas where teachers are needed. Alternative teaching programs culminate in a master’s degree in education and teacher certification upon completion.

Alternative teaching programs provide many benefits for college graduates, such as the chance to serve the needs of disadvantaged students and the opportunity for professional development through teaching. However, college graduates are typically required to commit one to two years to these programs, as well as an intensive amount of time and energy to teaching. College graduates must relocate to urban or rural areas in distant locations, sometimes far from home. They must also delay plans to enter the workforce or graduate school.

Charles Youn, a senior political science major, will postpone his plans to attend law school in order to participate in Teach for America for two years.

“My goal for post-college has always been to go to law school,” Youn said. “However, during college I’ve developed a passion for community service, especially working with inner-city kids. Teach for America has presented me an opportunity to do both: work with inner-city students for the next two years, as well as having the option to apply to law school afterward.”

The U.S. Department of Education is currently promoting alternative teaching programs as an effective way to counter the teacher shortage, as well as to improve the quality of teachers in schools, according to a recent New York Times article. This means that alternative teaching programs and traditional teaching colleges are both included in governmental funding plans for education.

“Though I may not have a traditional four-year degree in education, I am confident that the training sessions from Teach for America will help prepare me to be a teacher,” Youn said. “Teaching, like learning, is a lifelong process.”

Youn will teach middle school mathematics in Wilmington, Del. this coming fall.

Each year, the education department typically enrolls between 36-46 education majors who are working toward becoming newly certified teachers, according to enrollment statistics.

These students will become secondary and elementary teachers in a wide variety of subject areas, from the foreign languages to English to the sciences.

They must complete a major in education as well as a teachable K-12 subject area.

Students who pursue alternative teaching programs often have majors outside these subject areas, earning bachelor’s degrees in liberal arts disciplines or social sciences.

The alternative teaching program gives them the educational coursework they need in order to become K-12 teachers.

Angela Rios, a senior political science major, is waiting to hear back from Alliance for Catholic Education, which recently began a new program at St. Joseph’s University.

If accepted, Rios will join thousands of other college students who become members of the teaching profession. Her decision to apply was influenced by a number of factors.

“I knew I wanted to do at least a year of service after graduation, and I also knew I eventually wanted to become a certified teacher,” Rios said. “ACE combines service with education. I think my mission trip experience and other service experiences throughout my time at Villanova will help me in ACE.”

Likewise, Youn also stresses the University’s commitment to service as a crucial factor for his decision to enter Teach for America.

“For the past four years of my Villanova experience, I have been part of an on-campus community service group called Rays of Sunshine,” said Youn, who serves as the executive director of the on-campus community service organization. “I believe through this organization I’ve developed a tremendous heart and desire to serve the inner-city — especially the students. I believe every student and child should be given an equal opportunity to succeed, and through this program, I have an opportunity to help.”