For the past month, I have had to deal with issues concerning my citizenship. Ideally, no 17-year-old high school student should have to worry about this, but as a non-resident residing in the United States, I certainly have to face this issue.

I am an immigrant. I was born in Seoul, South Korea, and moved to the United States in August 2001, one month before the 9/11 terrorist attacks. My parents were able to move their whole family to the United States on one agreement: a business visa. Specifically, I am an E-2 Visa holder and my most recent issued visa expires in 2016.

Usually, I go back to South Korea every three years to renew my visa; the renewal process includes an interview at the South Korean Embassy, a stack of paperwork, and a review of my parent’s files. If my parents, sister, or I were to fail any part of the process, I would have to wait a minimum of one year in Korea until I could apply for another visa. Basically, it is not a fun process but most definitely a necessary one.

I never put much importance on my citizenship until now. Why now, you ask? Mainly because of college financial aid.

Most high school seniors will apply or have already applied for the FAFSA or the CSS Profile, which are the most common ways students receive some form of financial aid. Unfortunately, as a non-resident, I cannot apply for these financial options. The most annoying part about this situation is how I have friends who complain about how little the FAFSA or the CSS provides.

“Oh, the FAFSA only gave me $1,000 for this year.”

“I can’t believe I went through all that paperwork for this.”

“If only I were poorer.”

I hear these statements throughout the school and all I can do is listen, appalled. Money is money, whether it is in small or large amounts. Don’t get me wrong; I understand when someone may be disappointed by the amount of money FAFSA provides, but at least that one person has the chance to apply in the first place. When my dream college costs around $60,000 per year, even a penny can ease the damage that kind of money will do to a bank account.

Another privilege I can’t get due to my citizenship status is driving. As embarrassing as it sounds for a high school senior, I am still not able to drive myself around. I wanted to start driving once I turned 15 and a half, but my mother was morbidly afraid that I might get myself into an accident; she told me that I would get to drive once I could legally drink. Miraculously, my mother changed her mind and let me pursue a driver’s permit when I turned 17 and a half.

On February 23, 9:30 a.m., I went to the Pittsburgh DMV and stood in line for three hours, only to be asked my social security number. My mother and I tried to explain how it would be near impossible for me to receive a social security number since I’m not even a Green Card holder. So, at 12:30 p.m., I walked out of the Pittsburgh DMV, permit-less. Of course I was disappointed and a little bit sad, but the worst part was coming back to school to my cousin, who is a citizen and has her permit. She began to brag of how she would get her license before I could ever get my permit and that she was going to get the car that my parents had planned for me to drive once I received my permit. It was the perfect “cherry-on-top” moment.

As of now, I am preparing to apply for an international student status, which gives more leeway to financial aid. I know that as I go on in my life without proper citizenship, I will face issues such as the ones that I’ve mentioned. However, I hope that when people hear stories of visa-holding immigrants, they can think of me and my experiences. One day, I will be college debt-free, driving around in my very own car.