蜜桃影视

When Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz ordered his state鈥檚 schools closed, he directed them to continue to provide food for anyone 18 or under who needed it. Yet even as cafeterias were making the rapid switch to grab-and-go breakfasts and lunches, Rashad Turner was hearing from needy families who had no idea how to get those meals.

The founder of the , Turner and his team heard from 85 families in the first days after the closure was announced, with food insecurity topping the list of concerns, followed by where and when students could pick up Chromebooks and other technology.

For the most fragile public school families, Turner and other parent organizers and others say, long-standing gaps in the mechanisms that schools and districts use to communicate are in danger of becoming chasms. The communities that most need the safety nets schools are now providing need much more intensive outreach, they say.

鈥淚magine whatever cell phone you had two months ago, that鈥檚 been cut off because the bill wasn鈥檛 paid,鈥� says Turner, who heads a team of 14 multilingual advocates who, before the pandemic, supported families in navigating everything from choosing a school to asserting their child鈥檚 academic and disciplinary rights. 鈥淭he status quo ways of reaching out 鈥� what good is it if you have 1,000 people working on this and everyone鈥檚 not on the same page?鈥�

Into these cracks between home and school have stepped family empowerment organizations, many newly organized as affiliates of the National Parents Union. One key advantage: They are already trusted visitors in families鈥� homes.

Turner, for instance, knew immediately where, geographically, follow-up was needed. After being asked the same questions about food distribution, internet connections and other school-based supports dozens of times, he created an old-fashioned flyer, visited public housing complexes and called on families at a shelter for victims of domestic violence, distributing photocopies.

As he ran into people, Turner also managed some expectations. School districts, he reminded parents, were still figuring out the answers to big questions about the rest of the school year.

鈥淲e hear the narratives about how parents don鈥檛 care, yada yada, but I鈥檝e been impressed with the questions we鈥檝e gotten,鈥� he says. 鈥淵es, they are concerned about how they鈥檙e going to pay rent, but a strong sense of 鈥極ur kids need to be educated in this time鈥� has really come through.鈥�

In New Orleans, Executive Director Mary Moran says she and her team have found that the best tactic is to ramp up their inquiries about families鈥� needs and schools鈥� plans, listening for disconnects.

鈥淥ver the last 2陆 weeks, one of the big things we have done has been to check in with people on very specific indicators: health, food, distance learning, transportation, police interactions,鈥� she says. 鈥淪ome people have really just run out of food.鈥�

Too few schools have sent out communications in Spanish, says Moran 鈥� or, for that matter, have thought past obvious conduits for information such as emails, robocalls and text messages.

鈥淎 lot of folks, their phone is disconnected, but their social media may still be on,鈥� she says. Posting a letter to families on Facebook is less effective than personal communication via Messenger, WhatsApp or similar apps.

鈥淟ast week we spent a lot of time on the phone with CEOs and principals asking, 鈥楬ow well are you equipped to communicate with families? Do you need support with that?鈥欌�� Moran adds. 鈥淏y and large, everyone said, 鈥榊es, we need support.鈥欌��

One of schools鈥� biggest challenges in locating families who are at risk of falling through the cracks is the tendency to communicate from the top down, versus tapping support staff who have the closest relationships with families. Principals and teachers, who typically handle schoolwide or classroom communications, are overwhelmingly white. Support staff are more likely to be people of color living in the same communities as low-income students.

鈥淭his is the unique challenge of right now,鈥� Moran says. 鈥淪chools as a whole may not have those relationships, but there鈥檚 someone in that building that does.鈥�

Judith Y谩帽ez, the founder of , and about a dozen parents have been working for three years to help families navigate their school options. A large number are Latinos who don鈥檛 speak English and typically don鈥檛 see notices about school closings or emergency services. When they do receive communications from schools and public agencies, frequently they don鈥檛 respond out of fears arising from someone鈥檚 immigration status.

鈥淥ur families just stay silent,鈥� says Y谩帽ez. 鈥淪o we鈥檙e having to step up for them. 鈥� I have to call and ask, 鈥榃hat is the process, and do you have to have documentation?鈥欌��

鈥淎nd then I have to ask myself, 鈥楧o I feel confident sending a family to this, or do I have to go get it myself?鈥欌��

In the western suburbs of Minneapolis, serves about 1,000 students referred for unique and intensive support from 11 surrounding traditional districts. Many have profound disabilities, intensive behavioral needs or challenges such as being teen parents themselves. They are spread across a wide geographic area.

Several days ago, Director of Communications Rachel Hicks sent out a survey asking about families鈥� needs. She got a reply from one parent whose niece lives in an isolated and impoverished corner of Minneapolis but attends school in a suburban district.

The girl鈥檚 family had no food, toilet paper or gas to get to a store, Hicks recalls: 鈥淲e talked about things like just needing hand soap. Hand soap 鈥� the No. 1 thing public health officials are telling us we need to be safe. It was heartbreaking.鈥�

Hicks alerted a school board member in Richfield, the city where the girl goes to school, so social workers could follow up. And she put the family on the list of households getting donated food distributed via school bus.

Riding one of those buses recently was Sammy White, a student safety coach at the district鈥檚 North Education Center. Himself the product of an education that left him susceptible to the dangers of the streets, White under normal circumstances spends a lot of time making sure kids feel seen and heard.

Now, he says, from his porch, he can see students walking in groups and tries to check in on them, albeit from a distance. He tries to assume they鈥檙e making good choices, he says, experience having taught him that an accusatory tone will just drive alienated young people further underground.

鈥淚f I only know one or two, I may have to pull them to the side and maybe have a more intimate moment,鈥� he says.

By mid-morning on a recent day, White鈥檚 bus had delivered food to nine of 11 houses on the route, collecting information about how each family was doing. His immediate impression: In some ways, the challenges that will come when students go back to school will be harder to anticipate than the ones schools confront right now.

鈥淔or us, we find ways as adults to cope,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut our kids are reactive in the moment. They need help understanding their feelings.鈥�

Moran, too, is thinking about relationships as the glue that will help hold things together as schools look to the future.

鈥淓veryone is in a place of fear. We don鈥檛 really know what鈥檚 next,鈥� she says. 鈥淲ithin that, there is an opportunity to create consistency and to provide a pathway for how we move out of this.鈥�

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