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Karla Leon knew something was wrong when she couldn’t log into her financial aid portal.
For the past three years, the University of Illinois Chicago accounting major had checked her financial aid package well before classes resumed, confident that her scholarship and tuition costs would remain relatively steady.
Her education has been supported in part by tuition assistance available to Illinois students, including those without legal status.
But last month, Leon, 21, slowly pieced together that her usual college costs would more than double this semester.
She is among thousands of students across Illinois who lost access to in-state tuition rates and financial aid after a federal judge appointed by President Donald Trump ruled in August that the state’s residency requirement cannot apply to students without permanent legal status.
The decision left Leon scrambling to figure out how to pay for her final semester instead of looking forward to it.
“I remember not being able to sleep for, honestly, a good three weeks, just because I was so stressed trying to figure out what I was going to do, and my mind jumping to the worst possible scenarios,” Leon said. “It was impossible for me to think that I would not be able to come to school.”
As such, Leon began her last semester of college on Aug. 24 without receiving any of the financial aid that she applied for and was previously eligible for, she said.
“My cost of attending school has increased by a lot, which has been the main concern,” she said, adding that her bill soared from roughly $4,000 to over $9,000.
Since Illinois state officials did not appeal the ruling, educational institutions and organizations that work directly with students without legal status are seeking ways to help them stay in school, including through institutional funding, private scholarships and other sources of assistance.
The Illinois Coalition for Immigrant and Refugee Rights estimates that 7,000 to 10,000 students across the state could be affected by the change.
The ruling ends two decades of policies designed to help students without legal status access higher education in Illinois. Its immediate effect is being felt most sharply by students already enrolled in college who had planned their education around the availability of in-state tuition and financial aid.
Students like Leon, who submitted or planned to submit the 2026-27 Alternative Application can no longer be considered for the program for the current school year.
“The court’s ruling is the result of the Trump Administration suing the State of Illinois to deny college access to undocumented students who have graduated from Illinois high schools,” according to a statement from the Illinois Student Assistance Commission – which administers most – but not all – of the state’s public financial aid programs. “We know this court decision brings tremendous uncertainty and financial challenges for Illinois undocumented students.”
Roughly 2,150 students without permanent legal status received state tuition assistance from the commission during the 2025-26 school year. However, that number does not represent the full picture of students affected by the court’s ruling, a spokesperson told the Tribune.
Leon, who was brought to the U.S. by her parents when she was four months old, is among them.
In the past, she has shouldered the logistics of working toward her degree and scholarships. While her family has helped support her each semester, she hasn’t had to explain to them how the financial aid system works. Now, she’s trying to relay to her parents not only how much her semester will cost, but also the reason for the price increase and the ruling itself.
With financial help from family, friends and outside organizations, she was able to start the semester. And while her anxiety has slightly eased, the uncertainty around the financial aid system has embedded lingering fears that the rug might be swept out from under her again.
“It scared me a lot because I’m already feeling like I’m at the finish line, like I’m going to receive my degree and I’m ready to get out into the real world, but it was very stressful and scary, knowing that I might not have the financial ability to attend school,” Leon said.
For students already enrolled in college, the prospect of suddenly having to pay a higher, potentially unaffordable tuition rate can be enough to interrupt their education, said Thomas A. Saenz, president and general counsel of the Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund.
“This has very real consequences for these students who started a degree program on the understanding that they would be eligible,” Saenz said.
That access has been a lifeline for Andrés Rizo, who came to the U.S. from Mexico at age seven.
Like others without legal status, Rizo was ineligible for the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) and relied on state education assistance programs to earn a bachelor’s degree from the University of Illinois Chicago in 2022. Now, the 26-year-old is a second-year student at the Chicago-Kent College of Law at the Illinois Institute of Technology.
“I would not have been able to be where I am without those benefits,” Rizo said.

He worries about the undergraduates most immediately affected by the ruling and does not want the loss of financial assistance to become the point at which they stop pursuing their education.
Rizo said his life is not defined by a lack of documents. He has a passport, birth certificate, school transcripts, tax records, a driver’s license and other forms of identification. But what he does not have is lawful permanent resident status.
“I consider myself an American in every way,” he said. “I live as though I’m American. I educate myself as though I’m American. Culturally, I am American.”
Then, he paused.
“I’m just a second-class citizen.”
For Rizo, the consequences of making higher education harder to access extend beyond whether a student living in the country without permission can afford tuition.He argues that taking away educational opportunities does not make undocumented people disappear. Instead, it can leave educated, motivated young people with fewer opportunities to contribute to the communities where they have lived for most of their lives.
“The financial aspect of it, I think it’s a very small contribution for a very large benefit to the state as a whole and to the country as a whole,” Rizo said.
Students who are temporary residents or in the country without legal permission already had to navigate a series of requirements to receive state aid.
To be eligible to apply, students generally must have attended and graduated from an Illinois public or private high school — or, in some cases, a community college — and agree to file an application to become a permanent U.S. resident at the earliest opportunity.
For Diana Rashid, State Director of Legal Defense at The Resurrection Project, Illinois’ in-state tuition policy is personal.More than two decades ago, when she was an undocumented high school student at Lane Tech College Prep, Rashid became involved in the fight to make in-state tuition available to immigrant students in Illinois. She met with legislators, shared her story and advocated for the DREAM Act and in-state tuition.
When Illinois’ in-state tuition law passed, she was a high school senior.
“The timing was perfect,” she said.
Rashid graduated from the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign and became a community organizer. She attended law school after obtaining legal status through marriage. Now she works at The Resurrection Project as an immigration attorney specializing in deportation defense.
The possibility that students without legal status could lose access to the same tuition policy that helped make college possible for her is “disheartening,” she said.
“That was a catalyst for where I am today,” Rashid said of the opportunity to attend college.
The impact is also visible among high school students planning their next steps.
Adan Figueroa, a high school counselor at Prosser Career Academy, has spent much of his career helping undocumented and immigrant students navigate the path to college.
While working as a college and career coach at Foreman High School, ten years ago, he started Visionaries, a support group for students without legal status. He later started another support group at Prosser, known as the Dreamers Club.
He estimates that about 10 to 12 similar Dreamers clubs operate consistently across CPS, though the number fluctuates as staff sponsors leave schools or are no longer able to lead the clubs.“Making college an option for anyone regardless of status” is the club’s mission, Figueroa said.
Without the state funding, a student attending a four-year university could face tuition costs of roughly $16,000 to $19,000, he said. For some families, that could make the original college plan financially unworkable. Some students may have to move from a four-year college to a two-year college, attend school part time or defer enrollment altogether, Figueroa said, adding, the students most immediately affected are those who have already graduated from high school and are in college.
For Figueroa, the court decision represents a setback after years of work to expand educational opportunities for undocumented students.“It was an upward trajectory that we were kind of going on,” he said.
Still, Figueroa expects educators and advocates to continue pushing for students.
The legal landscape could change again next school year.
Illinois students without legal status could once again be eligible for in-state tuition rates during the 2027-28 school year. In anticipation of the court ruling, a law passed by the Illinois General Assembly in June modifies the state residency requirement that applies to students without permanent legal status.
Since in-state tuition rates could be reinstated next school year, Saenz advised students to finish their education, even if they have to put it on hold for a semester or two. “I hope they will maintain and continue their commitment to finishing the education that they need and want,” Saenz said. “Ideally, the state would expedite the new law so it applies to the current academic year,” he added.
Back at UIC, Leon is navigating school and the stigma sometimes associated with immigrants without legal permission. Having access to in-state tuition and financial aid is not unfair to U.S. citizens, she said, adding that if the issue were about fairness, tuition would be a single price and accessible to everyone regardless of their status.
“I think education is something that you cannot take away or suppress from somebody because knowledge is free,” Leon said. “We’re all putting our efforts [in] to come and learn and to become somebody in life, and I don’t think status or financial accessibility should determine who wants to learn and who doesn’t.”
Amid the uncertainty, Leon has her eyes on earning her degree and graduating in December. Not only for herself, but also for her parents, who she said instilled in her the belief that anything is possible with knowledge and education.
For her, college is about creating a legacy.
“An undocumented person, especially coming from a young age, people don’t realize how much we carry on our own already,” Leon said. “So, to me, this is proof that I can do it too, and that all of our hard work together is worth something.”