WATSONVILLE — Sometimes Oscar Flores has trouble speaking. He knows what he wants to say, but the words are trapped inside his mouth, like water behind a dam.

It’s been a struggle for the 18-year-old high school senior, the son of Mexican immigrants, to keep from stuttering.

Yet in January he risked humiliation and stood up in front of 400 classmates and state Treasurer Phil Angelides to talk about why counselors from the University of California are needed to promote higher education at his high school.

"I can’t say I love school, but education is the key," he said.

Oscar’s grades are good, but his SAT scores are less than stellar. And his parents dropped out of school, often an indicator of the family’s educational future.

Nevertheless, Oscar, who has bushy eyebrows and the serious demeanor of a computer programmer, is determined to earn a bachelor’s degree.

For thousands of high school students, getting into college is like being in a maze. It’s hard to figure out the right path, with a jumble of requirements and deadlines at every turn.

For guidance through the process, Oscar turned to a UC counselor named Rico, with tattooed arms and a dangling earring. The result: He’s been accepted by several colleges, public and private.

But across the state, services offered by counselors like Rico are on the chopping block.

In January, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger proposed several service cuts to close an estimated $17 billion budget gap. Eliminating counselors, tutors and related college-readiness services in high schools and middle schools funded by UC and CSU would save $85 million a year.

At the time the governor called the action "difficult but necessary."

University officials mounted a campaign to change the governor’s mind. At the invitation of Angelides, Watsonville students — Oscar among them — traveled to the state Capitol during spring break to rally and lobby legislators.

This week, students and parents will find out if they made any headway when the governor issues a revised budget proposal for the coming fiscal year.

Seeking a better life
Oscar’s story begins with his parents, Roberto and Maria. They own their home, filled with portraits of their five children, ages 10 to 30.

Roberto and Maria came from Mexico to improve their lot in life. Like many other immigrants, they had scant opportunity for education when they were growing up. They could see the importance of schooling. But they, like other Watsonville parents, knew little about what would be necessary for Oscar to be accepted to a college.

They are not alone. About half the parents of Watsonville High School students lack a high school diploma.

Roberto grew up in a large family. When he was 9, his mother died. He left school in fifth grade. His father was rarely at home, so his uncle took charge of the children. By 16, Roberto made his way to the United States, where he found work in Watsonville. He would labor in the fields for 25 years.

When Oscar was born, Roberto got a job as a nightshift custodian at the UC Santa Cruz campus so he could care for his son during the day. Many Watsonville children ride a bus to school, but not Oscar. His father took him every day in a 1975 Chevy pickup.

Maria’s father died when she was 7. When she was a teenager, her family came to the United States, settling in Watsonville because Maria’s uncle lived there.

Maria took night classes for two years to learn English. She earned a GED certificate, the high school diploma alternative, then took classes in early childhood education at Cabrillo College and Fresno State University. Now she supervises a child-care center at the Buena Vista migrant camp for the Pajaro Valley school district.

"Most people who come here from Mexico think of working, not education," said Oscar. "My parents must have listened to somebody because they are always saying ‘Go to school. It’s the only way we’re going to be successful.’"

A role model nearby
Not all of Oscar’s siblings followed their parents’ advice.

One sister, who’s 29, got married after high school and has two children.

But another sister, 28, and a brother, 30, shared Oscar’s dream of earning college degrees. And they realized their ambitions, thanks to a Watsonville High School counselor, Michael Sullivan.

In his 28 years at the school, Sullivan introduced hundreds of Latino students to admissions representatives from elite private colleges. He died four years ago.

With Sullivan’s help, Oscar’s brother got into Pomona College in Claremont and is now completing his residency to become a doctor; his sister graduated from Smith College in Northampton, Mass. and is an accountant.

Neither one lives locally. So when Oscar has questions about getting into the University of California, he relies on UC outreach counselor Rico Dominguez.

"I can call Rico at 10 p.m. to ask about a scholarship deadline," Oscar said.

Dominguez, 28, a snappy dresser prone to wearing shades and carrying one or two cell phones, is a one-man safety net for hundreds of students who aspire to be college graduates.

He’s one of four UC counselors in Santa Cruz County.

Dominguez visits middle schools and high schools in Watsonville with large numbers of immigrant children from poor families and encourages them to get on the college track.

They can’t help but like his breezy style and sense of humor.

Dominguez describes his neighborhood in San Jose as "tough." His parents couldn’t give him advice about college; they never finished high school.

So he turned to his older sister, who had enrolled at UCSC and worked part-time for the outreach program mentoring high school students.

"She would literally share with me the experiences she had ... and which classes would make my life easier in college," he said.

That’s how he gained the confidence to apply to universities he thought were out of his league. He opted for UCSC and a degree in psychology, a major he chose to gain insights into how teenagers think.

Many UC outreach staffers have taken the same path as Dominguez. After meeting a counselor like him, they are committed to a college education. Once they have their degree, they want to help younger students get into college.

Oscar is thinking of following in their footsteps. Accepted by the University of San Diego, which is private, and UC Santa Barbara, he chose UCSB, purely for financial reasons.

"When I graduate from college," Oscar said, "I’ll come back and help."

Overcoming obstacles
When Oscar stood up at Watsonville High School to explain why UC’s outreach counselors were needed, he pointed out that the six counselors at his high school keep track of more than 3,100 students. They are so busy that they don’t have time to meet with students individually.

The state treasurer commended Oscar for speaking. The 400 students in the room applauded.

His voice was so steady and firm it was hard to believe Oscar has stuttered since he was 5. Even reading aloud in class is hard for him.

"When I’m nervous, my heart pounds and my throat muscles tighten up," he said. "Sometimes when I want to voice what I’m going through, it’s literally stopping me."

He got speech therapy in school, but he quit seeing the therapist in ninth grade, thinking it was a waste of time.

Then he saw a documentary on television about an American president who stuttered. He was amazed.

"It was the same exact thing I’m going through," he said.

He hopes to study the condition in college and learn techniques to overcome it.

His nerves tightened up when he took the SAT college admissions exam.

Even though he had read a 400-page test-prep book, he was slowed by the lengthy passages in the verbal section.

"I’m on question 10 and others are on question 30," he said.

His score was 900 out of 1,600, average for students at his high school, but below average compared to students statewide.

So Oscar took the ACT, the other college admissions test, which has more math and science questions. The switch paid off with a score of 23, two points above the national average.

What doesn’t show up in Oscar’s test scores is his initiative.

He has a part-time job with a nonprofit organization working to bridge the digital divide in poor communities. He teaches immigrant parents who can’t afford Circuit City-prices how to build a computer for $500.

It’s a skill he picked up two years ago while watching TechTV on cablevision. He persuaded his mom to take him to Fry’s electronics store to get the parts and a manual.

"It only takes me 30 minutes to put a computer together," he said. "It’s simple."

Parents come to Alianza Elementary School’s computer lab one night a week to learn how to send e-mail and create a PowerPoint presentation. Some of them are old enough to be his grandparents, yet they call him "maestro" — the Spanish word for teacher.

"It is so cool to see these parents learning," Oscar said. "They say, ‘Teacher, teacher.’ It gives me oomph to keep going."