Immigration debate lasts whole semester in law class

By BRIAN FEAGANS
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Published on: 04/29/07

The gloves are off again. And as usual, Mihir Patel and Christina Gonzalez swagger to opposite corners of their immigration law class in Roswell.

The subject: U.S.-Mexico relations.

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See photos from the John Marshall Law School class


"We don't get any return on our investment in Mexico," Patel says, a grin comfortably folded into his face.

A vein pops out of Gonzalez's neck, bulging beneath a striped turtleneck. "I don't see you out in the fields picking tomatoes," she says.

In an America wrestling with immigration reform, the 11 members of the immigration law class at Atlanta's John Marshall Law School represent an enlightened — and opinionated — cross-section. Most speak from personal experience.

Two students are immigrants, one from Lithuania, the other from India. Three are married to immigrants — from Bangladesh, England and Mexico. And one is a Republican state legislator representing a poultry-producing part of Georgia that has grown into a magnet for newcomers from Latin America.

For more than half the students, immigration law is more than just an elective. They plan to make it a career.

Now, in their final session of the semester, the classmates huddle around a meeting table in the Roswell law offices of Professor Joseph Rosen, a former special agent with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. His old INS badge glows in blue amber from one of the oaken bookshelves as the conversation — interrupted by bites of Italian subs and potato salad — inevitably turns to illegal immigration.

Rep. Doug Collins (R-Gainesville), the only student with a General Assembly parking pass, remains quiet in his sport coat and glasses. A self-described conservative, the freshman legislator is co-sponsor of a bill that would amend the state constitution to reaffirm English as Georgia's official language. Another bill he signed on to would have barred state agencies and local governments from printing documents in languages other than English.

But in this class, Collins doesn't take the hardest line on immigration.

That position is reserved for the India-born Patel, an Atlanta resident who was naturalized as a U.S. citizen while still in diapers. He has zero tolerance for those who have taken an illegal route into the country. To give them amnesty would be akin to announcing the law no longer matters in America, Patel says.

"Throw them out," he says, shades tucked into a charcoal V-neck sweater.

Suddenly, Patel could use the one-eyed Turkish amulet on the bookshelf beside him. It's believed to ward off the "evil eye." And Gonzalez is giving him a good one.

The U.S.-born Gonzalez, of Lawrenceville, is married to a self-employed painter who arrived here from his native Mexico more than 15 years ago. Her husband lived in the country illegally for several years before earning a green card and, last month, his U.S. citizenship.

Gonzalez says she still has many friends and relatives in the country without documentation. They contribute greatly to the U.S. economy, she says, and should be given a chance to become legal.

"None of us here are Native Americans," Gonzalez says. "All of us are from somewhere else."

The debate meanders into birthright citizenship, funding for immigration agents and, eventually, racial profiling. Then Professor Rosen announces it's time to get down to business. The final exam is fast approaching. And the students must know their E visas from their L visas.

But Rosen, who hates to gavel lively discourse, has one last admonishment. Listen to those who disagree with you, he says.

"To win your client's side," Rosen says, "you have to know what the other side will say."

From opposite corners of the meeting table, Patel and Gonzalez glance at each other. And smile.

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