If you think NPR Tell Me More is real journalism, see this. (illegal immigration propaganda, Michel Martin)

If you think NPR's Tell Me More and host Michel Martin engage in real journalism, keep reading because I hope to change your mind.

For years, the media have been printing very similar stories designed to tug at peoples' heartstrings to promote an anti-American bill called the DREAM Act (see that link). These stories - appearing in news outlets from coast to coast - differ from one another in little more than the names of the people involved. You can see a collection of such stories on the PIIPP page. For examples of how similar these stories are to one another, see the side-by-side comparisons here and here.

Now, see the table below which compares the recent Tell Me More segment "Stiff Immigration Laws, No Bar To Big Dreams" [1] with two other highly similar stories from 2007. Is your idea of journalism to publish cookie-cutter propaganda? None of the three stories in the table are real journalism: they're simply propaganda designed to enable illegal immigration and to promote the anti-American DREAM Act.

Obviously, some organization must be planting these stories with reporters, because there's no other realistic explanation for how similar these stories are. Is your idea of real journalism to publish planted propaganda?

Now, I realize that some NPR listeners might sympathize with the subject of their story. Hers is an edge case, something supporters of the DREAM Act excel at finding. And, there might be some sort of private relief for extreme cases like hers. But, make no mistake: the DREAM Act is very bad policy: the illegal aliens covered by it would deprive citizens of college, it would harm foreign countries who need all the smart people they can get, and it would encourage even more illegal immigration and even more instances of bad parenting.

And, no matter their position on the DREAM Act, I would hope that most NPR listeners would agree that NPR shouldn't be broadcasting planted propaganda.

Please take a moment and let NPR know what you think about their low level of journalism: contact them via npr.org/blogs/tellmemore or tweet them at @TellMeMoreNPR.

Something that would perhaps be even more effective would be to contact their ombudsman: @SchumacherMatos. Even if you think the DREAM Act is a good thing, hopefully you'll help oppose planted stories. Ask NPR to explain the remarkable coincidence that their story is so very similar to all the others, and ask them to reveal who planted that story.

Here's the table comparing NPR's story with two from 2007:

Tim Padgett of Time, August 2007 Douglas McGray of NAF, September 2007 NPR Tell Me More, December 2011
Juan, 18, and Alex, 19, were toddlers when their Colombian parents brought them on a visit to the U.S. in 1990. Despite having only a six-month visa, the family did not return to their war-torn country and remained in Florida. They started a modest business, sidestepping federal immigration authorities for almost two decades. When Lucia's parents dropped her off at a new elementary school in Los Angeles more than 15 years ago, she didn't speak a word of English. And she didn't really know why she was in the United States. Before the family left Mexico, Lucia's parents said they were all going to Disneyland. Then they arrived here and stayed. "I happened to be born on New Year's Day, and my grandmother who owned a house in Mexicali, Mexico — where I was born — was celebrating with her family. And when she found out what my mother had done, she immediately came to my rescue and brought me over to the United States at just three days old. So she basically saved my life within the first 72 hours of my birth," Luna told Tell Me More host Michel Martin.
The boys, meanwhile, grew up as Americans and excelled at school — especially Juan, who mastered 15 advanced-placement courses at Miami's Killian Senior High School and almost aced the SAT before graduating this past spring. But Lucia was a smart kid, and when she figured out that she'd be here for a while, she tried to make the best of it. She stopped speaking Spanish. By seventh grade, she made it from remedial English classes to the gifted-and-talented program. She joined the California Cadet Corps, a kind of junior ROTC. She was voted queen of her high school prom and named valedictorian of her graduating class. Luna became a straight-A student.
Because the law denies benefits such as in-state tuition to undocumented immigrants, the Gomezes could only afford community college for their sons — but both were determined to earn college degrees. That meant she was an illegal immigrant too, ineligible for military service, in-state tuition, public financial aid, even most scholarships. But because she wasn't U.S.-born, she wasn't entitled to all of the things that straight-A students would benefit from, namely financial aid to pursue higher education.
The boys, meanwhile, grew up as Americans Lucia was stunned. She thought she was a normal American teenager, thought she belonged here. Though she's in the country illegally, she feels native to it in heart: "I am as American as any other American can be, minus a weekend. I've lived here all my life. I consider myself a Californian."
By then, they're betting, Congress will have passed what's known as the DREAM Act — Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors — co-sponsored in the Senate by Democrat Dick Durbin of Illinois and Republicans Richard Lugar of Indiana and Chuck Hagel of Nebraska, and in the House by Repubican Diaz-Balart and Democrats Howard Berman and Lucille Roybal of California. The measure would allow kids like Juan and Alex to stay in the U.S. and receive residency once they receive a college degree or serve two years in the military. It would also give those undocumented youths access to in-state tuition and other college aid benefits. A bill called the DREAM Act recognizes that fact. Proposed by Utah Republican Sen. Orrin G. Hatch and sponsored by broad, bipartisan coalitions in the House and Senate (including five presidential candidates), the DREAM Act is simple and pragmatic: If a kid like Lucia has grown up in the United States and graduated from high school, she earns conditional citizenship. If she graduates from college or serves in the military, she earns the right to stay. Unlike broad amnesty proposals, which critics say apply mostly to low-wage foreign workers, the DREAM Act offers citizenship only to kids who were brought up in the U.S. and are poised to become taxpaying members of the middle class. While in school, she became aware of a cause she would advocate for fiercely — a path to citizenship called the Dream (Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors) Act. It was proposed in 2000 to allow kids like Luna – those brought to the U.S. at a young age – to stay in the United States as long as they went to college or served in the U.S. military. Congress would not pass the legislation however.

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[1] npr.org/2011/12/08/143353825/
undocumented-status-no-bar-to-big-dreams