United Behind a Son's American Dream, No Matter the Consequences David Gonzalez/The New York Times Antonio Saavedra and Natalia Mendez standing in front of a photo of their son, Antonio Saavedra, at La Morada restaurant. Antonio Saavedra and Natalia Mendez wanted their three children to stay in school and stay out of trouble. They raised them without television, but with plenty of books, many of which are now crammed into a well-stocked library at La Morada, the Mexican restaurant the family runs on Willis Avenue in the South Bronx. Their children sometimes dip into the books when business is slow. Not that August was uneventful; Marco Saavedra, their middle child, only son and sometimes waiter, order-taker and deliveryman, spent two weeks in an Arizona immigration jail. By choice. Marco is among a group of nine young men and women who call themselves Dreamers - immigrants who were brought here illegally as children by their parents and who want the federal government to provide a path to citizenship. He had returned to Mexico and tried to enter the United States in July, asking for asylum on grounds that he feared persecution in Mexico, a country he had not seen since he was a toddler. He was released in early August while his case is pending. Marco's decision to undertake what he saw as an act of civil disobedience initially upset his parents. But he said it was the inevitable result of thinking about not just his situation but that of thousands of other young people like him. "The education, awareness and sensibilities I got at school challenged me to live up to those ideals," said Marco, 23, who graduated from Kenyon College two years ago. What's the point of education if we're not combating daily injustice? Education becomes meaningless if you become desensitized to what a community goes through. His family's journey is similar to that of many others in Mott Haven, which in a century has gone from an Irish enclave to one of the city's biggest Mexican communities. Marco's parents came to New York City in 1992, after having endured an impoverished existence as farmers in their hometown, San Miguel Ahuehuetitlán, in Oaxaca. Mr. Saavedra had been to the United States before to pick grapes in California. This time, he suggested to his wife that they try their luck in New York for a year, in hopes of saving enough money to return and start a small business. His wife, who wanted to set up a sewing shop at home so she could work and care for her children, agreed. They left Marco and his sister Yajaira with relatives and made their way to New York, where he found work as a restaurant dishwasher and she in a garment factory. They lived in Washington Heights, where Ms. Mendez was impressed by the neighborhood. "Everywhere I went I saw schools," she said. I didn't know what was inside, but there was a school every two or three blocks. I thought I'd be the happiest mother in the world if my children could go to school here. Like that, the plan to stay a year was scrapped. The couple sent for their two children. Soon, a third child was born in New York. Raising them between church and school, they urged them to get an education. Marco won privately financed scholarships to Deerfield Academy in Massachusetts and, later, Kenyon College in Ohio. Even before Marco started college, his parents knew that they had made a mistake by not having their immigration status in order, so they enlisted a lawyer. Mr. Saavedra said the lawyer took $15,000 and did nothing. They admit they were unhappy with Marco's decision to return briefly to Mexico this summer - a country he does not know - to call attention to his cause. They had hoped he would be a professional, an engineer, perhaps. Instead he became an activist with the National Immigrant Youth Alliance. When Marco explained his decision to his parents earlier this summer, his father fumed. His mother, however, slowly realized something. "He said what he did might help change the law for other immigrants," she recalled. I felt his passion. I understood that in his heart, this was a mission. While Marco was in detention, his father spoke to him daily. Those talks changed Mr. Saavedra. "I have no anger against him," he said. I have to support my son. He and his wife understand the future is uncertain for them, too. They have spoken publicly about Marco's case, despite their own unauthorized status. Though they said they have paid taxes, contributed to their community and stayed out of trouble, they were ready to make a final sacrifice. "If we had to go back to our country because he is out in the open, it would be difficult, but we would," Ms. Mendez said. We grew up there. He did not. If he can stay here and we had to go back, we're not afraid.