By Cassidy Grom | Echo
Patricio (Pato) Borja, 21, lives less than 100 yards from his dream. On school days, Pato pulls out of his driveway and sees Taylor University, the place he once called home-and keeps driving.
Through a series of unlikely circumstances, Pato attended Taylor, his dream school, for a single semester. Now, he is fighting to come back.
Wednesday, Pato wore a green coat-green is the color of hope, he said. Underneath his sleeve was a tattoo: the word "opportunity." He leaned his head back, trying to suppress tears. He took a deep breath, leaned in and began telling his story.
In the fall of 2015, Pato sold his computer to pay his parents back for plane tickets to Indiana. He had grown up alongside Taylor students: they often stayed with his family for months while studying in Taylor's Ecuador semester program.
Senior Nicole Arpin visited Ecuador in the fall of 2014. She said Pato comes from a charismatic church and has told her about supernatural experiences he's had. Arpin helped Pato get information about how to apply for Taylor.
Pato was accepted into Taylor's English as a Second Language program (ESL), but he was nervous when he went to apply for a visa at the American Embassy; they would check if Pato had enough money to pay for college in the United States. Pato's mother, Rocio Tello Borja, said their family collectively makes $18,000 annually.
By coincidence, Pato's relative in America had recently transferred money into Rocio Tello Borja's account for safekeeping. According to Pato, the embassy accepted that money as proof of financial stability and gave Pato a multiple-year visa.
Pato took his luck at the embassy as a sign: he was meant to study in America. He hoped people at Taylor would help him figure out the finances when he got there.
When Dereck Kamwesa, Taylor's international enrollment manager, later saw Pato on campus, he said he was surprised that Pato was at Taylor and received a visa.
"At no point did Pato get the message that 'Oh, Taylor is going to cover your costs while you're here. Because that would be a blatant lie,'" said Kamwesa.
In the weeks leading up to his departure to the United States, Pato couldn't contain his excitement and nerves-he couldn't eat. The night before he was supposed to leave, he accidentally crashed his family's car into another vehicle. The repairs cost $1,200, putting a major dent in the $1,500 he got from selling his computer. Pato's parents felt uneasy. Maybe the crash happened for a reason; maybe Pato wasn't meant to go to America after all.
But Pato went.
The airport attendant told Pato he was missing his F-1 form, and without it, he couldn't fly. The form was three hours away at Pato's home. He missed his flight.
With little money and little hope, Pato returned home. Rocio Tello Borja's friends heard about Pato's situation and collected enough money to buy a new plane ticket.
A week later, Pato returned to the airport with his F-1; his family went with him to send him off. Pato was on his way to his dream.
A Taylor representative met Pato at the Indianapolis airport. "I was feeling so (peaceful). Like, finally, I'm here," Pato said.
But soon, Pato became anxious: he was worried about how he would pay for Taylor. "I wasn't going to eat at the DC because I thought that every time I (went) they were going to charge me," he said. "So I didn't go, and I (stayed) in my room, eating Fruit Loops."
Later, Pato learned the meals were included in his fee. He fell into the rhythm of Taylor. Jack Peterson, ESL program director, described Pato as an adventurous and curious student who was very involved with the Taylor campus. But financial worries still nagged Pato.
Pato said he met with many administrators and asked about scholarships. They could not find donors to give him the scholarships he needed. "There has to be an individual donor who takes exceptional interest in a student," Charlie Brainer, associate dean of international programs, said.
In the past, Pato had always found a way to make things work. At home, he sold everything from shirts he designed to repackaged cereal. He even had a small photography business. At Taylor, he worked the 25 hours per week he was allowed at the Grille, yet it wasn't nearly enough to pay for Taylor.
According to Kamwesa, Pato came in as an ESL student and planned to transition into a degree-seeking program, which would then make him eligible for scholarships. "That's the whole survival mindset, the 'I'll just come in, and I'll figure it out from there,'" Kamwesa explained. "That is the area where the government doesn't want that to happen; because then you find a student like Pato, who-he's just trying to scrape up (money) in any possible way."
Kamwesa said Pato was aware that he and his family could not afford to pay for Taylor, but Pato came anyway.
In October, Pato decided to take action. To save money, he reduced his meal plan and moved off campus into a house with a family he had met through his church, Kingdom Life. Pato pays the family rent.
In November, Pato's mother visited Upland to meet with Taylor faculty and students about her work in Ecuador. According to her, Taylor University paid all of her expenses for that trip.
Although Rocio Tello Borja has been working with Taylor students in Ecuador for seven years, Taylor University does not employ her. She is employed by the nonprofit Fundación Hogar del Ecuador, a medical clinic. This means Pato cannot get the same level of financial assistance that faculty or staff members' children receive to attend Taylor.
By December, Pato was unable to register for classes at Taylor for the following semester because he owed the university $12,000. He and his family decided take out a loan for $3,000. Pato used the loan to enroll in nearby Ivy Tech Community College and study graphic design.
Pato said that semester was difficult for him. "At that point I didn't really feel like my life had meaning. My dream that I had before I didn't want to have anymore," he said. ". . . Because there are a lot of international students at Taylor that . . . have help. And I have my mom working for Taylor."
At the end of that semester, Arpin began lobbying for Pato to return to Taylor. Arpin talked to Brainer, Kamwesa and Skip Trudeau, vice president for student development. She asked about ways to help Pato pay for Taylor.
When Pato learned about Arpin's efforts, he was encouraged. According to Pato, God seemed to be giving him signs that he was meant to attend Taylor again. "One girl told me God has a school for me," Pato said.
Arpin's efforts resulted in a dead end. "Basically, we came to understand that the confusion was, Pato had a general vague impression that he was going to be financially fine when he got here," she said. "I think conversations he had with admissions made him feel that way, but he was never given any black and white promises."
In order for a university to formally fundraise for a student, that student must be enrolled in the university. And Pato cannot return to Taylor until he pays off his debt.
Pato went to Ecuador over the summer to work and came back to Upland in the fall to again attend Ivy Tech. Tuesday, Ivy Tech administration told him that until he pays the $3,000 he owes for this semester, he can not register for next semester. Pato started a GoFundMe page to pay for his debts. If the money does not come, he plans to go home next week.
Although he is not a student, Pato said he still feels like part of the Taylor community. According to Pato, even people who don't know him well help him grow spiritually. His former Grille co-workers make sure he has eaten, and he still hangs out with his Taylor friends.
"People say that you have to follow your dreams, and that's what I did," Pato said. "I don't believe that it's over because I believe that God is gonna work. God cares about his kids, and I feel part of that group; and I don't believe God is going to leave me alone in my dream."
