The first giveaway that Dream University is no ordinary college is its location.

Dozens of students huddle under a tree outside the White House to attend its lectures. The signs they lean on – which say things like "Future architect" and "Give immigrant youth a chance" – offer another clue.

The "university," which has held about a dozen classes this month, is really an ongoing rally to demand that young immigrants who want to attend a college – a real one – get a path to legal citizenship through the DREAM Act.

It may not be a real academic setting, but the students of Dream University are learning how to be better activists. Last week, a Brandeis University faculty member asked the students whether it is violent for demonstrators to break into a nuclear facility and destroy weapons.

"Yes, because they don't have a permit for it," said Jessica Sanchez, who had recently learned that her group needed a permit to hold a class near the White House.

The 20-year-old Floridian belongs to the United We Dream Network , a coalition of 27 immigration groups, which is leading one of the boldest efforts ever over the 10-year-old bill. It was the youth activists who came up with the idea to hold a protest that mimics their demand for education.

"I don't think before students would have yelled, 'Undocumented and unafraid,' in front of the White House," Emilio Vicente, an 18-year-old undocumented college student, said.

More than 2,000 students from 20 states have attended classes at Dream University and met with lawmakers over the DREAM – or Development, Relief, and Education of Alien Minors – Act, a bill that many immigration activists want Congress to pass this year in lieu of a comprehensive overhaul.

"It's so cool to see the active schooling of people become protest," Carlos Saavedra, the coalition's 24-year-old national coordinator, said.

He and the others began working on the idea a month ago, after receiving funding and office space from the National Immigration Law Center . They decided to hold classes in front of the White House because of its high traffic of tourists.

Things got off to a bumpy start when they showed up on July 14 without a permit. The police forced them to stay off the shaded grass, so the students held a 90-minute lecture on a blocked-off street under the sun.

They have become savvier since. Not only do they have a permit, but they have learned that sitting in rows instead of circles attracts more attention. They also make sure someone is standing at the perimeter of the class with a petition for people who stop by to sign.

The classes seem to be taking off as more people find out about them. Professors from across the country have signed up to teach classes on topics ranging from hate groups to street theater. Congressional staffers have expressed interest, too.

Some teachers have taken the university concept too seriously, inquiring whether they can teach eight weekly courses to fit in a semester's worth of curriculum.

"If they're not going to give us an education, we're going to build our own," Saavedra said.

Saavedra, who couldn't afford finishing college, said he enjoys being back in a classroom setting. Though he is now a legal resident, the young activist lived in the shadows for years after his parents brought him here from Peru at the age of 16.

Illegal immigrants don't qualify for the federal loans that help many citizens get an education. The financial stress is multiplied by the strain many immigrant families feel holding low-paying jobs.

The DREAM Act would give many of the 2.1 million young immigrants who want to go to college or join the military legal status to do so. Despite its popularity on Capitol Hill, the bill has been held up for years in political negotiations.

Conservatives who want to see more enforcement and border security say the bill should incorporate some of those components. At the same time, some liberal backers want to hold on to the DREAM Act as a bargaining chip to get moderates on board with a comprehensive immigration overhaul.

The activists argue that the standoff comes at the expense of young, talented individuals who want the chance to excel in the nation they have long called home.

"It's sad that some of my friends are A-plus students," Harry Jeong, 18, said before attending a Dream University session. "They are just going to get average jobs – like dishwashing, maybe."

Jeong, a high school senior who came to New York from Korea five years ago on a student visa, has traveled to Capitol Hill several times over the years to push for the DREAM Act. This time, he sensed that they were getting closer to their goals.

"We just need a few more people and it will pass," he said.

That's one of the goals of Dream University: to cultivate a sense of optimism in the young activists that will help them work on the issue as long as it takes. The "campus" is opening satellite shops in cities like Boston, where they plan to lobby Sen. Scott Brown (R-Mass.), over lawmakers' August recess.

When Congress gets back, they expect the second semester of their university to begin.

"I feel we are growing stronger," Saavedra said. "It's not only about the legislation but about building community."

That's why every session begins with a dance exercise that the activists call the "Undocumented Cha Cha Slide ." They line up in front of the White House, clapping and stomping to music as tourists watch with surprise.

"We have created a school for people who can't go to school," Saavedra told people who stopped to take photos during the dance last Friday.

Later, he admitted that he is giving serious thought to opening up an alternative school for undocumented youth. The strong response from grassroots activists and teachers has inspired him.

"This is yet another experiment in the tradition of non-violence," Tom Shields, the teacher from Brandeis, said. "They're creating their own university."

Ambreen Ali writes for Congress.org.

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