In the Franklin seminar room at Penn's Houston Hall student center, Ben Franklin looks out of an old engraving, all happy and avuncular. But if he could look into this room tonight, I think he'd be ashamed to hear the story of a young Latina woman called Jesse who played by the rules of the American Dream, and is getting shafted.

Jesse—not her real name—is a petite, pretty woman. At 20, she looks like the Penn kids who assembled recently to support a pending immigration law, called the Dream Act (S. 2075), that would give deserving young people like Jesse who have undocumented parents a chance to succeed.

These are hardworking, high-achieving kids who played by the rules, who followed Franklin's proverbs—also posted on these walls. Children of immigrants, who got to bed early, worked hard, and—in Franklin's words—believed that God would help those who help themselves.

But now Jesse needs help from us, and we as a nation need Jesse.

Jesse's future is now a blank. Her eyes are dark and sad, fearful that someone in this audience tonight could betray her. This is the first time she's found the courage to tell her story in public.

Jesse was born in Mexico, brought here by her parents at 5. As a student in a suburban school, she didn't think she was any different from her classmates—except maybe for her drive, her academic achievements, her success. But when it came time for her friends to go to college, Jesse's life just stopped.

Three years later, at 20, she hides in an underworld, along with some 1.6 million other children of undocumented aliens. Their young lives are leading them toward an underclass that America reserves for illegal people. Unprotected by the everyday rights afforded to ordinary Americans, they often face job prospects limited to those found under the table, or on their backs.

In Jesse's case, this is particularly tragic. She is one of an estimated 65,000 youth nationally, 800 of whom are living in Pennsylvania, who are outstanding students, top of their classes and perfect for colleges from which they are barred by law. The Dream Act, which has been kicking around Congress for about four years, gives these children a path to citizenship, instead of a one-way ticket to criminality.

"I can't get a green card," says Jesse, ticking off the rights she doesn't have. "I can't get a driver's license. A car. Health care." She starts off in monotone, just giving the facts. But as sobs well up, she lowers her head. Still, she's determined to get to the end of her list.

"I can't go to Mexico, I don't even speak Spanish." Through tears, now: "This is real," she says to the Penn students, some of whom are now also weeping.

The Dream Act is targeted precisely at these Dream Kids, a small slice of the brightest and the best whom we can't hear because we've made it nearly impossible for them to call out for help. And for whom we're about to make life even worse.

For if the Senate passes another act that just cleared Congress (HR 4437; see Helen i-lin Hwang's story on p. 14), these children and their parents would be not only be illegal, but felons. And anyone—a doctor, social worker, a friend—who helps them, with as little as a ride home, would also be committing a felony.

The Dream Act is not a free ride, and it's got no back door to let in a flood. The kids must come here before the age of 16, and be here for more than five years. It's a path to citizenship, and comes with tough rules: complete at least two years of college, or serve two years in the U.S. military.

There is no economic argument against giving these kids a path to education and freedom. But despite broad bipartisan support, the Dream Act is currently languishing in a Senate committee, the victim of a greater hysteria about immigrants. But this little bill is a slam dunk, a win-win. We've already paid to educate these children thus far, so let's finish the job.

Pass the act, and we'll get college graduates, self-starters who play by the rules and pay their taxes. Abandon Jesse and the others, and we'll be adding to a class who live in the shadows: potential felons who create an economic drag. At 5, Jesse never asked to come here. But now that she's here, we should welcome her. Because, face it: we need Jesse, and 65,000 others like her.

These kids believed in the system enough to bust their asses and make good. We've got no moral right to screw them out of their futures, and ours. To do so would betray the very values we all agree on: Ben's rules.

The Dream Act is now parked in the Senate Judiciary Committee, which Pennsylvania's Arlen Specter heads. Meet Jesse's courage with your compassion. Jesse cannot petition the government to redress her grievances. She's come to us to do that. Write, call or e-mail Specter. (For more info, call the Pennsylvania Immigration and Citizenship Coalition at 215-832-0809.)