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Daily Mail
9 hours ago
- Daily Mail
What YOU should do if an active shooter storms your building
An expert revealed to the Daily Mail how to handle an active shooter if they storm into your building. Marty Adcock, who became a police officer after serving in the Marines, was program manager of the Advanced Law Enforcement Rapid Response Training program out of Texas State University.
The Hill
18-07-2025
- Climate
- The Hill
Texas ‘economic miracle' crashes into new reality of extreme weather
AUSTIN, Texas — Texas leaders' dreams of unlimited development and a rush of AI data centers are on a collision course with a new reality of extreme weather, as this month's flash floods hammer a landscape plagued by long-term drought. Heading into the summer, the region faced perhaps its worst drought on record, until the dregs of Tropical Storm Barry poured torrential rain over Central Texas. With Texans now facing both the aftermath of floods and a referendum that could release billions into new state water supplies and flood control projects, experts told The Hill, the state faces a critical question: Can it make the necessary investments in time to keep the economic miracle growing — and can it do so without either getting washed away or sucking the environment dry? When it rains, it pours The July 4 deluge funneled through limestone canyons, swelling rivers that tore through the Hill Country west of Austin and San Antonio and killing at least 132, with more than 100 others still missing — a death toll that makes the floods among Texas's deadliest weather disasters of the last century. Nor was that the end. Last Sunday, parts of the Hill Country that flooded Independence Day weekend were hit again by rainfalls that topped 10 inches, leading local leaders to call for mandatory evacuations. But all this, experts say, was not enough to definitively break the grip of drought. Instead, they point to a new reality of chronic scarcity of water — punctuated, but not broken, by its sudden, terrifying abundance. 'It's not a matter of 'if' there is another drought, but 'when,'' said Robert Mace, director of the Meadows Center at Texas State University, a regional mecca for the study of water. 'And the question is: Is that 'when' tomorrow? As soon as the rains stop, does the next drought start?' For Austin, at least, the prognosis for its water supply has become less 'scary,' Mace noted. The equivalent of more than 17,000 Olympic-sized pools worth of water thundering into the reservoir on Lake Travis took it from 41 percent full in April to 74 percent full by mid-July — inflows which have been matched or exceeded on the city's other reservoirs. But the rains, Mace noted, may have been less an end to the drought than a freak parentheses within it: a perfect storm of 'three firehoses of moisture colliding over the Hill County' amid a broader reality in which Texas is getting drier. Even after the floods, reservoirs on the San Antonio and Nueces rivers, critical for cities including San Antonio and Corpus Christi, remain near historic lows. Water fights On the eve of the floods, local attempts to stop the drawdown of Hill Country aquifers were stymied at the highest levels of the state. In late June, Gov. Greg Abbott (R) vetoed a bipartisan law that would have allowed a Central Texas water district above the rapidly depleting Hays-Trinity Aquifer to begin charging fees for groundwater withdrawals. That veto came amid an array of water fights playing out across Texas, with a wave of more than two-dozen new data centers planned for water-stressed parts of the state and hundreds of thousands of new residents — on balance the most in the country — moving to the state each year. On the one hand, the state is 'looking into the abyss,' said Rice University environmental law professor Gabriel Collins. 'But what you see next to us is a partially assembled jetpack — where with a bit of tinkering we can fly out of here,' Collins said. In the Hill Country region west of Austin, rivers are at their lowest levels 'since record keeping began over 100 years ago,' Charlie Hickman, executive manager of engineering with the Guadalupe Blanco River Authority, told local station KXAN last month. In May, the Edwards Aquifer, a key source of water for San Antonio, dropped to its lowest level since the 1950s — driving local regulators to cut permitted pumping by nearly half. Driving this dynamic is, above all, a planet heated up by the uncontrolled burning of fossil fuels, which has created a hotter, thirstier atmosphere that sucks moisture from the land, and increasingly replaces soaking rains — which replenish soil and aquifers — with torrential storms that run right off them. Climate change has plunged the state into a new reality, said Mace. In the past when a drought ended, he said, 'You could say, 'Woohoo, it's over. We're not gonna have to do that again.'' But now, less than a decade after the worst drought in the region's history, 'here we are back in it.' Mace said that 'this is probably the new normal going forward: that we keep experiencing droughts worse than the previous drought.' The downstream effects are playing out in legal battles across Texas, including lawsuits in Bryan-College Station and East Texas over aquifer pumping rights. In the near term at least, that reality means shortage and conflict — at least regionally. In April, a private water supplier announced it was cutting off supplies to nine planned developments in Central Texas; in June, a municipality west of Austin considered banning bulk sales of water, a key lifeline to exurban residents whose wells have gone dry. In Montgomery County in East Texas — one of the 10 fastest-growing regions in the country — the cities of Magnolia and Conroe have halted the permitting of new commercial or residential wells. 'So anxious for my cities' The downstream effects of shortages are playing out between cities as well. Last week, the city of Bryan-College Station — home of Texas A&M University — settled a lawsuit over a permit its groundwater authority had given to a landowner selling water from the aquifer to a rapidly growing suburb of Austin. Similar legal fights are playing out in Houston County and the city of Jacksonville, in East Texas. Making the picture more difficult for cities is a 2023 state law that makes it easier for residents — or developers of subdivisions or data centers — to remove themselves from a city's jurisdiction and tax base. That law could allow developers of data centers or real estate to effectively secede from city authority, allowing them to drill their own wells into the city water supply, without the city being able to charge them taxes or impact fees. While cities have the potential to get ahead of that problem by signing preemptive development agreements with new entrants — effectively getting them to help fund the new civic water infrastructure they need — the prospect of the new rush 'makes me so anxious for my cities,' environmental lawyer Toni Rask said. Most of the cities and water districts she represents, Rask said, 'are just tiny, and it's easy for them to get pushed around by big, fancy tech companies.' Floods mark the other extreme of development risk, as worsening rains meet a largely uninsured populace — raising the risk of financial death spirals, as totaled mortgages cut into the financial health of municipalities, which largely rely on property taxes for their financial lifeblood. The Independence Day floods brought at least $22 billion in property damage — losses that were largely uninsured, leading to risk of foreclosure and stark drops in the revenues of towns such as Kerrville. After the floods, 'it's hard to imagine how fundamentally altered these communities are going to be,' said Jayson O'Neill, who studies climate at the Focal Point Strategy Group. For small Central Texas towns where most residents are on the hook for damages, 'you just lost your entire property tax base. There's no value there anymore.' Only 1 to 2 percent of inland Texans have flood coverage — with permissive building codes that have allowed 5 million state residents to build their homes in floodplains. The state even allows citizens to build their homes in floodways — land immediately adjacent to a watercourse — leaving it up to municipalities to set stricter limits. Many may not be aware they are at flood risk — Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) flood maps are both outdated and incomplete, with large swaths of Texas, including many flood prone areas, with no flood data at all. Property owners can also challenge FEMA to have their properties removed from maps, which relieves them from the responsibility of buying federally subsidized flood insurance — as did the owners of Camp Mystic, the girl's camp where 27 died when the Guadalupe River spilled its banks. Voters get a say this November When it comes to water scarcity, rather than flood, Texas has taken some action. Like most experts interviewed by The Hill, Rice University's Collins argued that while Texas towns and cities have to wake up to a new reality of drought, the state is far from running out of water — and notes that it may be about to get a huge infusion of new resources. In November, voters will get a chance to approve a referendum advocates have billed as a generational investment in water infrastructure that would unlock a $20 billion public investment in new water supplies, conservation and recycling. Once federal, local and corporate investments are added in, that's a 'meaningful bite' of the approximately $154 billion the state needs to safeguard its water supplies, said Jeremy Mazur of Texas 2036, a nonpartisan think tank focused on the state's long-term future. This year, Mazur said, 'the legislature recognized that the water supply issue access is one of the more substantive policy issues informing the continuation of the Texas economic miracle.' The bill enabling the referendum wasn't unanimously popular in the legislature — conservative advocacy group Texans for Fiscal Responsibility urged members to vote 'no,' warning that it represented a new, permanent expense that risks 'growing government bureaucracy without guaranteeing outcomes.' A handful of members voted against it, including state Rep. Brian Harrison (R), who argued that Texas's budget surplus should instead be spent on property tax cuts. But it passed the state Senate unanimously and the House by a factor of more than 10 to 1. If voters approve the referendum in November, a new funding will head to water projects across the state, ranging from desalination of seawater and briny water to the reuse of wastewater and the repair of leaky pipes — as well as flood control projects, which have taken on new public importance in the wake of the July 4 disaster. The state's towns and cities, Collins said, should think about water not in terms of something to be mined and ultimately depleted — like copper or oil — but in terms of a shifting, balanced portfolio of supplies. The gold standard for this approach, he argued, is the city of San Antonio, which combines aquifer pumping, underground storage, desalination and the state's largest recycling program. But the state's municipalities face significant risk if they get the calculus wrong, Collins said. 'People and companies move to Texas,' he said, because it's 'attractive' and they want to, 'not because they have to.' 'And if we ever do something, have a set of circumstances emerge that changes that analysis, we will suffer for decades and generations as a result.'
Yahoo
26-06-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
I thought I was a healthy teen — I constantly dismissed a sign that turned out to be a chronic disease
Gracie Cappelle should have been looking forward to her freshman year at Texas State University. Instead, she got a crash course in ulcerative colitis (UC). 'I had never heard of ulcerative colitis,' Cappelle, 19, told The Post. 'It took me a really long time to even understand what was happening within my body.' Cappelle was diagnosed with the chronic disease in the summer of 2024. She spent her freshman year eliminating dairy and fatty foods from her diet — not easy as a college student — in the hopes of managing her symptoms since there's no cure for UC. About a million Americans are believed to have UC, the most common type of inflammatory bowel disease. Experts aren't exactly sure what causes the condition, but they think it's related to abnormal immune system reactions. Inflammation and ulcers develop in the lining of the colon and rectum, often causing stomach pain, bloody diarrhea and frequent bowel movements. Crohn's disease is similar but can affect any part of the GI tract. UC is most often diagnosed in people 15 to 30 years old. Adults between 50 and 70 are also at higher risk. Cappelle didn't immediately realize that something was amiss. She occasionally noticed blood in her stool but figured it was no big deal. 'It wasn't bad at first,' Cappelle recalled. 'I looked it up a couple of times, and the only two things that would come up were internal hemorrhoids or colon cancer. And I was like, 'OK, well, I don't have colon cancer, so it's probably just internal hemorrhoids.' So I wasn't worried about it.' The bleeding eventually intensified to the point where it was happening every day — and she found herself rushing to the bathroom more often. A colonoscopy was scheduled for two weeks before she left for college. 'I literally came out of my colonoscopy, and my doctor told me that I had [UC],' Cappelle said. She needed to overhaul her diet immediately. Individual triggers vary, but UC sufferers tend to experience flare-ups with high-fat foods, spicy foods and foods rich in insoluble fiber. Alcohol, caffeinated beverages and sugary drinks are often no-nos. Before her diagnosis, Cappelle typically had yogurt for breakfast, a sandwich with Cheez-Its for lunch and ground turkey, chicken or steak with potatoes or rice for dinner — or fast food. 'I definitely didn't eat well,' she admitted. 'If I wanted [Raising] Canes or Chick-fil-A, if I wanted fast food, I was going to go get the fast food.' She first axed spicy foods, including her beloved Flamin' Hot Cheetos and hot sauce, soda and gluten. Unfortunately, her stomach pain didn't go away right away. 'I was trying to eat whole foods, but obviously that's hard, especially being a freshman in college,' Cappelle said. 'You're living in a dorm, so you really don't have a kitchen.' She came home to the greater Houston area in December, cutting dairy and alcohol from her diet and stepping up her exercise routine. She also began working with a therapist and getting infusions of Entyvio, prescription medication that targets gut inflammation. Her stomach pain and bloody stool subsided, and she plans to return to Texas State in August. 'I think it'll be easier this next year, because I will have an apartment and my own kitchen,' Cappelle said. 'It is hard because you can't necessarily eat what everybody else is eating. But, for me, personally, it's not worth it to eat like that, knowing what could happen if I do eat like that.' She's been sharing her journey on TikTok, hoping to connect with people facing the same challenges. 'The hardest part for me [is] feeling so alone,' Cappelle said. 'I really just want to put the message out there of, you're not alone in this, and you can get better, and you will get better.'
New York Post
26-06-2025
- Health
- New York Post
Healthy teen reveals symptom that led to a chronic diagnosis
Gracie Cappelle should have been looking forward to her freshman year at Texas State University. Instead, she got a crash course in ulcerative colitis (UC). 'I had never heard of ulcerative colitis,' Cappelle, 19, told The Post. 'It took me a really long time to even understand what was happening within my body.' Advertisement 5 Gracie Cappelle was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis at the age of 18. Summer Lange Photography Cappelle was diagnosed with the chronic disease in the summer of 2024. She spent her freshman year eliminating dairy and fatty foods from her diet — not easy as a college student — in the hopes of managing her symptoms since there's no cure for UC. About a million Americans are believed to have UC, the most common type of inflammatory bowel disease. Experts aren't exactly sure what causes the condition, but they think it's related to abnormal immune system reactions. Advertisement Inflammation and ulcers develop in the lining of the colon and rectum, often causing stomach pain, bloody diarrhea and frequent bowel movements. Crohn's disease is similar but can affect any part of the GI tract. UC is most often diagnosed in people 15 to 30 years old. Adults between 50 and 70 are also at higher risk. 5 A doctor shows a model of the colon. In ulcerative colitis, inflammation and ulcers develop in the colon and rectum. Jo Panuwat D – Advertisement Cappelle didn't immediately realize that something was amiss. She occasionally noticed blood in her stool but figured it was no big deal. 'It wasn't bad at first,' Cappelle recalled. 'I looked it up a couple of times, and the only two things that would come up were internal hemorrhoids or colon cancer. And I was like, 'OK, well, I don't have colon cancer, so it's probably just internal hemorrhoids.' So I wasn't worried about it.' The bleeding eventually intensified to the point where it was happening every day — and she found herself rushing to the bathroom more often. A colonoscopy was scheduled for two weeks before she left for college. 'I literally came out of my colonoscopy, and my doctor told me that I had [UC],' Cappelle said. Advertisement 5 Cappelle spent her freshman year eliminating dairy and fatty foods from her diet — not easy as a college student — in the hopes of managing her symptoms since there's no cure for UC. Summer Lange Photography She needed to overhaul her diet immediately. Individual triggers vary, but UC sufferers tend to experience flare-ups with high-fat foods, spicy foods and foods rich in insoluble fiber. Alcohol, caffeinated beverages and sugary drinks are often no-nos. 5 'I had never heard of ulcerative colitis,' Cappelle told The Post about getting diagnosed. Gracie Cappelle Before her diagnosis, Cappelle typically had yogurt for breakfast, a sandwich with Cheez-Its for lunch and ground turkey, chicken or steak with potatoes or rice for dinner — or fast food. 'I definitely didn't eat well,' she admitted. 'If I wanted [Raising] Canes or Chick-fil-A, if I wanted fast food, I was going to go get the fast food.' She first axed spicy foods, including her beloved Flamin' Hot Cheetos and hot sauce, soda and gluten. Advertisement Unfortunately, her stomach pain didn't go away right away. 'I was trying to eat whole foods, but obviously that's hard, especially being a freshman in college,' Cappelle said. 'You're living in a dorm, so you really don't have a kitchen.' She came home to the greater Houston area in December, cutting dairy and alcohol from her diet and stepping up her exercise routine. Advertisement She also began working with a therapist and getting infusions of Entyvio, prescription medication that targets gut inflammation. 5 Cappelle's healthcare regimen includes therapy visits and Entyvio infusions. Gracie Cappelle Her stomach pain and bloody stool subsided, and she plans to return to Texas State in August. 'I think it'll be easier this next year, because I will have an apartment and my own kitchen,' Cappelle said. Advertisement 'It is hard because you can't necessarily eat what everybody else is eating. But, for me, personally, it's not worth it to eat like that, knowing what could happen if I do eat like that.' She's been sharing her journey on TikTok, hoping to connect with people facing the same challenges. 'The hardest part for me [is] feeling so alone,' Cappelle said. 'I really just want to put the message out there of, you're not alone in this, and you can get better, and you will get better.'
Yahoo
14-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Undocumented students rethink their college dreams after Texas cuts their access to cheaper tuition
Even though Jorge and his younger sister are only two years apart in age, their college experiences are headed in different directions. They were both motivated and highly engaged high school students in Central Texas. But after graduation, he went to Austin Community College and had to work three jobs to pay for tuition. She enrolled at Texas State University on a full scholarship. It wasn't academics or ambition that separated the siblings, but their immigration status. Their parents, seeking economic opportunity, crossed the U.S.-Mexico border with Jorge in their arms when he was 1 year old. They had his sister in Austin a short time later. This fall, Jorge hoped to finally be on equal footing with her. The 21-year-old had saved enough money to afford tuition at Texas State and had applied to transfer there to study mechanical engineering. His plans depended on having access to in-state tuition, the lower rate that Texas residents pay to attend public colleges and is often half, or even a third, of what out-of-state students are charged. But the siblings' path may soon split for good. Last week, state officials agreed to the federal government's demand to stop offering in-state tuition rates to undocumented students living in Texas. Jorge is one of thousands of students whose education plans may have been truncated by the ruling. Their aspirations — to become engineers or lawyers, or join other professions — haven't disappeared. But the road has grown steeper. For some, it may now be out of reach. The Texas Tribune spoke to four students who were brought into the country when they were young and are weighing what last week's ruling means for their college plans. They requested anonymity out of fear that being identified publicly could make them or their families a target for deportation. [What to know about Texas ending in-state tuition for undocumented students] The students said they had been on high alert for months, fearing that the Texas Dream Act — the 2001 law that allowed undocumented students to qualify for in-state tuition and state financial aid — would be repealed this year as anti-immigrant rhetoric soared with the start of a new Trump administration. Federal officials have set a goal of deporting 1 million undocumented immigrants by the end of this year, and perhaps no state has extended them as much help as Texas. Gov. Greg Abbott said the National Guard can now make immigration arrests. State lawmakers have authorized spending billions of dollars from the state's budget on border security and passed a law this year requiring sheriffs to work with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. And a proposal to end the Texas Dream Act advanced further in the Texas Legislature than it had in a decade. 'This one got further along than I was comfortable with, so I was keeping my eye on it,' Jorge said. The students were relieved when lawmakers ended this year's legislative session without repealing the law, but it was short-lived. They hadn't prepared for the federal government and state officials to turn to the courts to dismantle the long-standing policy. Schools, many of which had already started summer classes, were also caught off guard and have struggled to answer critical questions: What will happen to students who can't pay the difference in tuition? Will they be left with debt and no degree? Students have been trying to find their own answers, with little luck. College access advocates and legal experts say they are still trying to gauge the ruling's implications and whether it can be challenged. Soon after the court announced its decision, Jorge's friends texted him a news article about it. 'I was shocked,' he said. 'I stayed up until 3 in the morning just reading everything I could.' For nearly 24 years, the Texas Dream Act made college more affordable for students like Jorge. The law extended access to in-state tuition rates to university and college students who are not U.S. citizens but have lived in Texas for three years prior to graduating high school and one year prior to enrolling in college. The law required them to sign an affidavit declaring that they would apply for permanent legal residency as soon as they were able. About 19,500 students signed an affidavit to qualify for in-state tuition in 2023. That number not only includes students living illegally in the country but also those who are here on visas, such as those whose parents received work permits and reside legally in the U.S. The Texas Higher Education Coordinating Board, which tracks the number of affidavit signers, has told lawmakers the agency does not ask students to disclose their immigration status. Affidavit signers are also eligible to receive state financial aid. Texas GOP senators have expressed concern that those students take an outsized portion of the state aid available, but according to Every Texan, a left-leaning policy research institute, that's not the case. Affidavit signers received $17.3 million of the $635.2 million — less than 3% — of the aid distributed in 2023, the group found. [Texas Republicans pioneered in-state tuition for undocumented students. Now they're celebrating its end.] The law was not controversial when it was passed. It was seen, even by Republican leaders at the time, as a common-sense way to boost the economy. Undocumented students contribute more than $80 million annually to the Texas higher education system and fill vacancies in critical sectors like health care, education and technology, according to the American Immigration Council. But the Tea Party movement and President Donald Trump have pushed the Republican Party, in Texas and across the country, toward a more nativist stance. In 2021, Abbott launched a billion-dollar border security initiative called Operation Lone Star. As part of that effort, he increased the penalty for the state crime of trespassing and directed state troopers to arrest migrants found on private property. Abbott deployed thousands of Texas National Guard members across the state this week to respond to protests against federal deportation raids, which his office says have devolved into lawlessness in cities like Los Angeles. Republicans now argue the Texas Dream Act amounted to a subsidy that deprived U.S. citizens of opportunities. Texans for Strong Borders, an influential anti-immigration group, said the law encouraged people to immigrate to the country illegally. Last week, the U.S. Department of Justice sued Texas, arguing the Texas Dream Act 'unconstitutionally discriminates against U.S. citizens.' Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, a long-time critic of the law, chose not to defend it in court despite his history of suing past presidential administrations for overstepping their authority and infringing on the state's rights. A federal judge favored by conservative litigants quickly ruled in favor of the Justice Department and declared the law unconstitutional. Republicans quickly celebrated the Texas Dream Act's demise. State Sen. Brandon Creighton, the chair of the Texas Senate's education committee and the architect of the state's diversity, equity and inclusion ban and other sweeping higher education reforms, pointed out on social media that he had filed legislation to end in-state tuition for undocumented students multiple times in previous sessions. 'This is a long-overdue win for the rule of law, fiscal responsibility, and Texas taxpayers,' the Conroe Republican said. Critics accused the feds and the state of colluding to eliminate the policy without giving undocumented students and their supporters a chance to push back. The federal government's argument that undocumented students are receiving benefits denied to U.S. citizens is false and misleading, said Monica Andrade, an attorney and director of state policy and legal strategy at the Presidents' Alliance on Higher Education and Immigration. [Texas' swift surrender to DOJ on undocumented student tuition raises questions about state-federal collusion] 'In fact, any U.S. citizen who meets the same criteria — such as attending and graduating from a Texas high school — qualifies for in-state tuition. These requirements apply regardless of immigration status,' she said. For Jorge, the political fights over immigration have always cast a shadow over his college dreams. He wants work for Engineers Without Borders, a humanitarian organization that helps establish clean water, sanitation and infrastructure in developing countries. His parents taught him that 'everything that we do has to be for the betterment of the world, because it's simply what we as humans owe one another,' he said. 'The idea of not using education to try to improve the world in some way seems a bit, I don't know, backwards.' Jorge has paid for school himself, starting out working for his father's construction company before taking additional jobs as a waiter and a cashier. His schooling has taken longer than usual because sometimes he couldn't afford to attend full time, even with access to in-state tuition. 'I take pride in the fact that my parents don't have to worry about me being short on bills for school,' he said, 'but when it comes to rent and bills, I am definitely still dependent on my family.' Jorge said he applied to Texas State not because his sister goes there, but because it was affordable. He could keep costs down by continuing to live with his family and commuting to San Marcos for class. Without access to in-state tuition rates, he said, Texas State is anything but cheap. According to the university's website, taking 15 hours in the fall would now cost him an estimated $24,520 in tuition and fees. That's double what he would have to pay with in-state tuition. Jorge still hopes the judge's ruling can be overturned. A group of undocumented students took the first steps in that direction this week by asking the judge to let them intervene in the case. But legal experts say an appeal is a long shot that will likely take months to resolve. In the meantime, Jorge has already started looking into whether he can finish his degree at a Mexican university online. 'I'd like to give more back to this country, but if that's the option in front of me, I can't say I wouldn't take it,' he said. Other undocumented students, even those who have received state financial aid or private scholarships, have also started looking for backup plans. Aurora, a 26-year-old student at Texas A&M University-San Antonio, is racing to finish her psychology degree. She enrolled in as many classes as possible this summer and fall because she was worried the Legislature would repeal the Texas Dream Act. 'A lot of us were already nervous, because we kind of feared that this was going to happen, but we just didn't think it would happen so soon,' she said. a national organization that awards scholarships to undocumented students going to college, provides roughly $4,000 to Aurora each semester. But she'd be at least $6,000 short if required to pay the out-of-state tuition rate. After the court's decision, she wondered if she would have to withdraw from her classes for now. Some students said they felt betrayed. A.M., a 24-year-old recent Texas A&M University graduate, said he wanted to return to the school to pursue a master's degree in public service and administration, but paying out-of-state tuition would be too costly for him. He is also reassessing his options. A.M. lamented that Paxton didn't defend the state law in court, especially after lawmakers declined to repeal it during this year's legislative session. 'It provides a lot of undocumented students with opportunities to fill labor shortages here in this state,' he said. 'And yet, Paxton kind of turned his back on us, on all of us Texans.' Days after the ruling upended Texas' tuition policy, state officials and universities still can't say what happens next, leaving students without much guidance on how to move forward. Fifteen Democrat state representatives wrote to the Texas Higher Education Coordinating Board last week asking it to create a first-generation resident tuition rate to allow students who benefited from the Texas Dreamer Act to enroll this fall at a more affordable rate. 'This action would not override statute but would provide a critical bridge until the Legislature can return to address the matter,' reads the letter, which state Rep. Donna Howard, D-Austin, posted on social media. Friday evening, the agency replied that it does not have the authority to do what the lawmakers proposed. The Tribune reached out to the nine Texas public universities and colleges with the highest enrollment of affidavit signers and asked them if they would charge those students the higher rate immediately; if students who had already paid in-state tuition rates for summer classes would have to pay the difference; or if students would have any recourse to challenge the higher costs. The University of Texas at Austin, the University of Texas at Arlington, the Dallas College District and Houston Community College did not respond. It's unclear if any Texas university knows which of their students are undocumented or how they will determine who should now be charged the out-of-state tuition rate. The University of Houston System said it does not require applicants to disclose their immigration status. Other schools — including Texas A&M University, Lone Star College, the University of Texas at Dallas and UT-Rio Grande Valley — did not answer when asked if they do. They said they were still trying to understand the ruling and what it means for their students. UT-RGV officials acknowledged the ruling's likely impact on students' financial plans. 'Our priority and focus are on minimizing disruption to student success consistent with applicable law and helping students navigate this transition with clarity and care,' said Melissa Vasquez, a university spokesperson, in a statement. College access experts worry colleges could start identifying undocumented students to cut off their access to in-state tuition rates, which could expose them to immigration enforcement. In addition, they said, the ruling could set the state back on its goal of having 60% of Texans between the ages of 25-34 hold a certificate or degree by 2030. As of 2021, only 49% of Texans in that age group had done so, according to the most recent data from the Higher Education Coordinating Board. 'We are hopeful that colleges will do what they can to help students complete the path they started,' said Will Davies, director of policy and research at Breakthrough Central Texas, a nonprofit dedicated to helping students from low-income communities become the first in their family to go to college. 'I mean, that's good for all Texans. No one benefits from forcing students to stop out with existing debt and without the credentials that can help them achieve economic stability.' Ale, 24, worked hard to graduate from the University of North Texas with a degree in political science, knowing her efforts might not pay off. She has work authorization and a driver's license via the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, which was created under the Obama administration and shields some undocumented immigrants who were brought to the U.S. as children from deportation. DACA, which is also facing legal challenges, allowed Ale to split her week working four days as a hotel manager and attending classes at the University of North Texas in her remaining time. One semester, she and her parents worked extra hours so she could afford to be an unpaid intern for a politician. Now, Ale works for a law firm in North Texas that assists international students who, like her, don't know if they will be able to finish their education in the U.S. She wanted to apply to UT-Austin's law school before she learned last week that the Texas Dream Act was no more. She said she's trying to channel the sadness she feels about her situation into motivating her younger sisters, who are U.S. citizens, to never take their educational opportunities for granted. And she still plans to take the LSAT. 'I'm not going to give up on myself,' she said. Ale isn't alone in that resolve. Jorge said he's going to study Mexican history so he can prepare for the entrance exam at two Mexican universities, Tecnológico de Monterrey and Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, where he's considering finishing his degree online. A.M., who wants to use his education to help reform the country's health care system, is looking into moving to one of the 23 states that do offer undocumented students in-state tuition rates and paying for his master's degree there. He feels sad and scared about the possibility of having to move away from his family and friends. 'It's kind of like having to start from scratch, and all the connections I made here, I might not be able to see for a while,' he said. Aurora felt hopeful she'll be able to finish her degree after told her this week she will continue to receive support, even if she decides to transfer to another university. 'I'm still a bit anxious, but at the same time positive because there are people out there who support us,' she said. All four said they are still trying to reconcile what it means to be raised in Texas and yet be told, in rhetoric and increasingly through law, that they don't belong. María Méndez contributed to this story. The Texas Tribune partners with Open Campus on higher education coverage. Disclosure: Every Texan, Houston Community College, Lone Star College, Texas A&M University, University of Texas - Arlington, University of Texas - Dallas, University of Texas at Austin, University of Houston and University of North Texas have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list of them here. Big news: 20 more speakers join the TribFest lineup! New additions include Margaret Spellings, former U.S. secretary of education and CEO of the Bipartisan Policy Center; Michael Curry, former presiding bishop and primate of The Episcopal Church; Beto O'Rourke, former U.S. Representative, D-El Paso; Joe Lonsdale, entrepreneur, founder and managing partner at 8VC; and Katie Phang, journalist and trial lawyer. Get tickets. TribFest 2025 is presented by JPMorganChase.
