Dulcie and her family, who live in the Twin Cities metro, are afraid every day when they leave for work and school.

“All of my friends are staying at home. No one comes out. It gets to me,” said Dulcie, who declined to use her last name because she fears retribution from federal agents, who have been detaining citizens and legal immigrants.

Recently, Dulcie began driving her parents to work every morning before school, as early as 4 a.m. — because she is afraid they might disappear.

“I would rather do that than never hear from them. I’d rather know at least where to look for them then never hear a single word from them probably,” she said.

Like many area schools, Dulcie’s school is offering an online option for students worried about coming to school, but she has continued to go to school in-person, even if she doesn’t always feel like it.

“Most of the time I don’t even want to go because everything just feels so depressing,” Dulcie says.

The nation’s conscience has been shocked by high-profile incidents of federal immigration enforcement agents engaging children, including apprehending on his way home from school.

But the impact on children and their families extend beyond these viral incidents, affecting the lives of children and families broadly across race, immigration status and economic class in the Twin Cities. The ongoing immigration surge of around has created a climate of fear — not just for the criminals and undocumented immigrants they claim to be targeting — but for ordinary families trying to maintain the routines and normalcy of childhood.

“We are just kids, and instead of being kids and living our lives as kids, we have to step up and support our community,” said Taleya Addison, an 18-year-old senior at FAIR School for Arts in downtown Minneapolis. She said her best friend’s father has been in ICE detention for weeks, and his mother is a stay-at-home mom. The family is struggling, so Addison has been picking up groceries and running errands for them.

With a Trump executive order in hand allowing stepped up immigration enforcement around schools and churches, federal agents have detained at least nine students in Columbia Heights, which canceled school Feb. 2 after feds were observed stalking bus stops and schools around arrival and dismissal.

Duluth Public Schools, Fridley Public Schools and Education Minnesota, the state’s teachers union, against the feds, alleging the Trump administration violated the Administrative Procedures Act by rescinding the sensitive areas policy that had previously protected schools from immigration enforcement activity.

Among the many incidents around schools:

On the day of Renee Good’s killing, immigration agents deployed chemical irritants and smoke outside of Roosevelt High School in Minneapolis. After the murder of Alex Pretti, federal agents deployed smoke outside of an elementary school in Minneapolis.

On Jan. 14, federal agents were spotted gathering outside of an elementary school around dismissal time .

Roseville schools reported that on Jan. 21 immigration enforcement agents used a school parking lot as a staging area.

Parents interviewed by the Reformer said immigration agents have lurked outside of schools in Minneapolis, and one said agents in a vehicle concealed themselves in the parent pickup line at a suburban school, while staff scrambled to get students safely inside.

Federal agents have also been confronted after around in the Twin Cities.

On Jan. 14, Area Public Schools reported that a parent waiting at a bus stop had been taken by federal agents. And on Jan. 23, Public Schools reported that two students and their parents had been taken by federal agents in an incident witnessed by another parent in the district.

On Jan. 15, transporting students and staff from St. Paul Public Schools were stopped by federal agents.

On Jan. 27, Public Schools reported that two of its vans had also been stopped by federal immigration agents while students and staff were on board. And on Jan. 29, reported that federal agents had boarded a bus while students were on board.

TheĚý¸éąđ´Ú´Ç°ůłžąđ°ů spoke with more than a dozen Twin Cities teens, parents of younger children and teachers to understand the impact on the daily lives of children. Their experiences range from the minor inconveniences of having extracurricular activities postponed or canceled, to fearing for their own safety leaving the house for school or work.

Students have gone missing from school

Heather, who declined to use her last name because she fears retribution against her students and school, teaches English learners at a middle school in the Twin Cities. Since her district introduced an online learning option, her typical class of 20 students is down to just four or five students in person. Many students are also not showing up online either.

Although absenteeism has been worse since the killing of Good on Jan. 7,  Heather has had students regularly missing school because of concerns about immigration enforcement since November. One student has temporarily moved in with family out of state because their parents believe they are safer there.

Heather said she is concerned that many of her students who have moved to online learning might never come back to the classroom.

Student absenteeism is also putting some funding at-risk for Minnesota school districts. When students miss more than , districts are required by state law to drop students from enrollment. Most K-12 school funding in Minnesota is tied to , averaged over the school year, so as students remain absent for extended periods, districts will start to lose funding.

Significant short-term and long-term consequences for children are already well documented

Researchers have previously shown the impact of intensive immigration enforcement, beginning with short-term effects like missed school and increased anxiety.

When immigration enforcement increased in last year, students missed 22% more days of school, with the youngest students missing the most days. Missing school is tied to lower academic outcomes.

But the long-term impacts extend beyond academic outcomes. In the year following an on a meatpacking plant in Morrison, Tenn., in 2018, researchers found consequences for children’s wellbeing up to a year after the raid.

They documented more suspensions and expulsions from school for student behavior, and a doubling of serious mental health disorders including substance use disorder, depression, self‐harm, and suicide attempts or ideation. Children were more likely to be victims of sexual abuse in Morrison in the year following the raid.

The Morrison raid was a single incident that resulted in detention of about 100 adults. By contrast, Minnesota has been subject to intense, ongoing enforcement actions that have now lasted for over two months and affected thousands of families.

Recent research in Florida suggests the impact extends beyond families caught in the enforcement dragnet. A recent study of , where immigration enforcement increased significantly at the start of the second Trump administration, found that student test scores dropped for American-born Spanish-speaking students just as much as for those born outside the U.S. They also found a decline in test scores for Hispanic students broadly, not just those who speak Spanish.

The same Florida study also showed that the impacts were more significant for students in middle and high school, among girls and students already struggling in school. And, for schools with higher concentrations of poverty, increased immigration enforcement had a larger impact on students, controlling for other student characteristics.

Once higher rates of absenteeism kick in, the negative effects can spread to an entire school community. Teachers struggle getting students back up to speed after they miss even one day of classroom instruction, data show. And, research during the COVID-19 pandemic showed that students and families can struggle to resume attending school regularly when their routine has been disrupted by time away from in-person learning.

A student alters her daily routines after a killing near her home

Children in the Twin Cities aren’t just facing the threat of federal detention. Hattie, a Black high school senior who declined to use her last name for fear of federal retribution, lives near where federal officers shot and killed Alex Pretti. The killing, along with the continuous presence of federal immigration enforcement activity around her home, has created a fearful atmosphere. She and her friends have quit taking their customary strolls around the neighborhood or taking the bus to get around.

Hattie said she doesn’t feel like she is a target for federal agents. As a Black woman, however, she knows they would see her, and assumes they’d read her as an opponent.

“I’m scared to go out there because you really never know when or where or who or why,” Hattie said.

She said she has noticed subtle changes in her school, like more Latino students choosing to attend online and extra security around.

“I can definitely see the difference in who takes the bus, who’s walking home,” Hattie said.

She’s struggled to manage the stress.

“At least for me, personally speaking, I’m not really coping. It’s just like, let’s just make it to the next day and not be targeted,” Hattie says.

Like many others around the Twin Cities, Hattie has also been spending her time helping to organize donations and support for people staying at home for their own safety. She said that while people definitely need food, households sheltering in place also need toys and activities for children stuck inside, assistance getting medical care, and even help taking laundry to the laundromat.

Effects of immigration enforcement felt in suburbs

Eve, who has one parent who is an immigrant to the United States, attends high school in a suburb of the Twin Cities. Although she and her family haven’t had direct interactions with federal agents, she has been impacted in smaller ways: A friend’s birthday was moved out of Minneapolis because the friend group comprised a diverse group with many immigrant parents.

Eve, who declined to use her last name because she fears retribution from the feds, said that despite the challenges, the crisis has yielded some positive outcomes, like seeing small gatherings outside of her school at dismissal expressing opposition to ICE, and demonstrators on overpasses and street corners regularly expressing similar sentiments.

Eve’s school has also had ongoing fundraisers to help support those more impacted by immigration enforcement. Seeing people come together and express opposition to what is happening has been a silver lining for her, she said.

Eve’s mother said that she has expressed concerns about her father, although he is a naturalized citizen. Although Eve said she thinks most of her classmates and teachers are opposed to what is happening, her mother said Eve has expressed concern about a few students expressing racism and hatred of immigrants at school.

Dulcie is the only person in her friend group of Latinas that is attending in-person school. She said almost all of the Latino students at her school have chosen the online option. The school’s Latino Club has moved its meetings online.

She said some of her teachers struggle to simultaneously manage classroom and online instruction. Some of her classes have a Spanish-speaking co-teacher or aide, which she said is helpful for keeping the online students on-track. But most of her classes lack this additional support.

Her friends are doing their best to log into online classes, and keep up with the teacher. In her classes without an aide, Dulcie said, she has started using her cellphone in class to text with her friends online to help them keep up. Her school, like many in the Twin Cities, has a strict no cellphone policy. But she said her teachers understand.

Counselors at Dulcie’s school, which is racially and economically integrated, have been collecting donations for students and their families impacted by the federal siege. Dulcie said that she hasn’t asked for any help though because she feels guilty when others need more. She is also concerned that students attending online are feeling more disconnected from school, and are not aware of the assistance available through the school.

Most of her friends are no longer leaving their homes. While online school allows them to stay safely inside, she said that many are growing restless and bored, spending too much time on their phones or screens, like during the early days of the pandemic.

But in some ways worse, because at least during the COVID pandemic, her friends were leaving the home, Dulcie said.

Dulcie said she worries that if the intensity of immigration enforcement activity continues, she and her friends could miss out on important milestones, like prom and graduation. It is already keeping her friends from celebrating their birthdays.

“I’ve gone through two historic moments already,” Dulcie said, referring to the COVID pandemic and murder of George Floyd. “It’s like, too much.”

is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Minnesota Reformer maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor J. Patrick Coolican for questions: info@minnesotareformer.com.

was originally reported by Chabeli Carrazana of .Ěý

Two years ago, Nicolle Orozco Forero walked into an in-home day care in Seattle, Washington, looking for a job. She was barely 22, a whole five feet tall — if that. But she was calm, focused. Her presence struck the owner, Stephanie Wishon, because it’s not easy to find qualified staff who can work with children with disabilities.

Orozco Forero had experience working with kids who had autism back in Colombia, so Wishon had her come in for a trial run and hired her after the first day. The children, who needed someone who had love and care to give in abundance, gravitated toward her. She was good at the hardest stuff. She changed diapers and outfits the moment they were soiled. She was vigilant; her kids stayed pristine. And she got them to do the things they wouldn’t do for other people, like say “ah” when it was time to get their teeth brushed or sit still long enough for her to twist a braid down their back.

Some people just have that way about them.

And people like Orozco Forero are exceptionally rare. Already, the staffing shortage in child care is near crisis levels. It’s far — about of those families say they face significant difficulty finding care for their kids, partly because there are too few people with the ability, expertise or desire to work with their children. Immigrant women like Orozco Forero have been helping to fill that void. They now make up of all child care workers.

At home, Orozco Forero was also caring for her own young boys, one of whom started to show symptoms of a serious illness over the past two years that doctors have not yet been able to diagnose. She took some time off to care for him last year, before returning to the kids at Wishon’s day care.

Her work has kept an already precarious safety net together. Without women like Orozco Forero, families who have nowhere else to turn for care have to make difficult decisions about how to survive and keep their children safe. Without her, the safety net snaps.

And that’s exactly what happened on June 18, the day she was detained.

It was supposed to be a routine meeting with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Orozco Forero and her husband had been to all their monthly meetings for the past year and change, since their asylum charge was denied in April 2024.

The family — Orozco Forero; her husband, Juan Sebastian Moreno Acosta; and their two sons, Juan David, 7, and Daniel, 5 — fled Colombia two years ago. Moreno Acosta, a street vendor, had been persecuted by gangs .

After arriving in the United States, they sought the help of a lawyer with their asylum claim, but when they couldn’t pay his full fee ahead of their hearing, he pulled out. They represented themselves in court and lost the case. With no knowledge of the U.S. court system, they didn’t know they had 30 days to appeal the ruling, either. Ever since, ICE has been monitoring them, requiring they wear a wrist tracker and meet with an immigration officer once a month, sometimes more, according to a family member. (The 19th is not naming the family member to protect their identity.) It’s unclear why ICE has allowed them to stay in the country all this time, though it’s not necessarily uncommon; ICE typically prioritized immigrants with felonies for deportation.

Orozco Forero had seen the reports of illegal immigrants being rounded up at their immigration appointments. President Donald Trump’s mass deportation effort has led to the detention of about , like Orozco Forero, who now make up of those detained. Her husband does have a misdemeanor reckless driving conviction for driving under the influence of alcohol on his record, but he completed a court-mandated alcohol course for that and has no other convictions.

Still, Orozco Forero wasn’t worried when she headed to her appointment on the morning of June 18. If ICE planned to detain her, Orozco Forero thought, they would have asked her to come with the boys, right?

And she had been doing everything right: She’d gone to all her appointments, taken documentation to show she was going to school at Green River Community College taking courses in English and early childhood education. She had completed a child care internship that trained her to open her own licensed in-home day care. Her licensure approval was set to arrive any moment, likely that same week, and the day care was just about ready to go.

But that morning, her family was still wary, asking her to share her location just in case.

Shortly after 10 a.m., Orozco Forero texted her family member: “They are going to deport us”

“Nicolle what happened? Nicolle answer me,” they texted back. “What do I do?”

“I can’t speak I feel like I’m going to faint,” Orozco Forero replied. And then: “I’m sorry it wasn’t what we expected.”

Two-and-a-half hours west, on the coast of Washington in a town called Southbend, Wishon was frantic. Orozco Forero had texted her, too. ICE was asking for the boys.

In two years, Wishon had grown incredibly close to Orozco Forero, who had cared for her own kids. After her family moved to the coast, Wishon rented out her house in Seattle to Orozco Forero, whose boys were excited to have a home with a yard.

Wishon’s husband, Gabriel, hopped into his truck and headed to Seattle. Wishon, meanwhile, got on the phone with the Orozco Forero family’s ICE agent and every lawyer she could. They were going to take them into detention at a facility 2,200 miles away in Texas, a facility that was to detain families. Wishon wanted to find a lawyer who could stop the deportation order, and she wanted to make sure the boys would be reunited with their parents if they took them to meet the ICE agent.

And that was especially important, not just because they were young children, but because Juan David is still sick.

For the past year, he’s been seeking treatment at Seattle Children’s Hospital for an illness that is turning his urine muddy. So far, doctors have determined he’s losing red blood cells and protein through his urine, indicating a possible kidney issue, but they haven’t yet zeroed in on what is causing the problem. They likely need a kidney biopsy to be sure.

“Given the complexity of his case, it is essential that Juan remain in the United States for continued testing and treatment,” his nephrologist Jordan Symons wrote in a March letter to ICE. “We kindly request that you consider this medical necessity in your review of his immigration status and grant him the ability to stay in the United States until his treatment and evaluation are completed.”

Juan David’s care team has been monitoring him closely to ensure his red blood cell and protein levels never drop too low. His condition could become serious quickly.

“You can die from that,” said Sarah Kasnick, a physician’s assistant who is familiar with his case. Kasnick is also a foster parent, and Orozco Forero provided care for her family.

When Gabriel Wishon arrived to pick up the boys, they were confused and disoriented. Where were their parents? Why was everyone crying? They didn’t want to go to Colombia, they told him on the drive. They wanted to stay in the United States.

Around 5:30 p.m. that evening, he met with the ICE agent, who had waited past her work hours for them to arrive.

“Bye boys, you are going to see your parents right now. They are right inside,” Wishon told them. He watched them walk in carrying two stuffed animals, a Super Mario doll and Chase, the popular cartoon dog dressed as a police officer.

The families Orozco Forero cares for are now in a free fall.

Jessica Cocson, whose son has been in Orozco Forero’s care for more than a year, described her in a character letter to ICE as a “blessing to us in ways I struggle to fully express.”

Orozco Forero and her husband “support working families, provide quality childcare, and demonstrate compassion and commitment every day,” Cocson wrote. “It is heartbreaking to think that someone who gives so much and asks so little could be forced to leave.”

Tamia Riley, whose two sons with autism were also in Orozco Forero’s care, said losing her was like watching “a father walking out the door.”

“These people, these day care providers, sitters, they are a form of family members for me and my children,” Riley said.

Now, the day care she was set to open lays empty. Inside, the walls are plastered with posters listing colors and sight words. There are cushioned mats on the floor and play stations. Tables with tiny chairs. A tall pink dollhouse. High chairs and a pack and play for the babies. Outside, two play houses, a ball pit, toys to ride on and little picnic tables set across an artificial turf. But no children to enjoy any of it.

Big Dreams Day Care she was going to call it, for the dreams she wanted the kids in her care to strive for, and the ones that were finally coming to fruition for her.

Orozco Forero’s detention has rattled child care workers across the country. In Texas, workers represented by the Service Employees International Union have been rallying in her name. U.S. Rep. Joaquin Castro, a Texas Democrat, of the family’s release at a rally on June 29 in San Antonio. And a group of union workers is attempting to deliver supplies to the family. It’s an effort Orozco Forero knows little about; she only has limited communication with those on the outside.

Tricia Schroeder, the president of the Seattle-based SEIU chapter that represents care workers, said that, for years unions like hers have been working to improve quality, access and affordability in child care, a system in such deep crisis it’s been called by the Treasury Department

Immigrant women like Orozco Forero were part of that effort to improve access, doing jobs few Americans want to take on.

“Detaining child care providers, especially those who care for kids with special needs, just deepens the crisis in early learning,” Schroeder said.

Orozco Forero was also the connective tissue that kept families employed. Her loss has rippled across industries.

Kasnick, the foster parent, said one of the children in her care had been tentatively set to start at Orozco Forero’s day care as soon as it opened. Orozco Forero had been the only provider who would take the child, who has autism and is nonverbal.

Orozco Forero had cared for the girl at Wishon’s day care as if she was her own, even taking her in once when the child’s care had fallen through and no foster family in the entire county would take her in because of the complexity of her needs. The girl arrived at Orozco Forero’s house at midnight on a weekend “with no clothing, toys, medication or any of her belongings … this did not [deter] Nicolle and Sebastian instead they immediately went and purchased all the things” the child needed, a social worker wrote in a letter to ICE. Kasnick said Orozco Forero was even considering becoming a foster parent.

Without her, Kasnick is out of options: She quit her job as a physician’s assistant to care for the child after Orozco Forero was detained.

“There are now 44 patients a day who don’t have anyone to provide their health care, and I can’t go to work because Nicolle’s day care didn’t open,” Kasnick said.

In the weeks since, Kasnick has had an overwhelming feeling of helplessness, she said. How could this happen to someone who gave back so much?

“The security of knowing that you can be in your home one day and in a prison the next week, and you didn’t do anything except exist?” she said. “It makes you feel like there’s no good left in the world.”

Orozco Forero’s family has now been in ICE detention for nearly a month awaiting a bond hearing that could buy them time in the United States. Orozco Forero and the boys are together; her husband is in the same facility but separated from them.

Juan David hasn’t been eating. It took three weeks for him to receive medical care, Orozco Forero told her attorney, James Costo.

Costo has been working to get the details of why ICE allowed the family to stay in the country with monitoring after they lost their asylum case last year. There has been an order for their deportation since then, but ICE never attempted to deport them until the Trump administration ramped up efforts. The number of immigrants without criminal convictions who have been detained has since May.

The process to fight an asylum claim and appeal a denial is complicated — there are court deadlines, documents that need to be submitted and translated.

“They think maybe they can do it themselves and go in and say what happened but they are not understanding the whole legal process,” Costo said. “The system isn’t made for things to be easy.”

Costo is hopeful a judge will allow them to stay in the country temporarily as Juan David seeks care. They have almost no family left in Colombia, and no way to obtain care for him there, their family said. If they can stay, then perhaps Orozco Forero could try to obtain a work visa as a domestic worker.

He has gathered letters of support from numerous people whose lives the Orozco Forero family touched, and Wishon set up a to cover her legal expenses.

In the letters, Juan David’s first grade teachers call him an exceptional student who went from one of the lowest reading levels in the class — 10 words a minute — to one of the highest at 70 words a minute.

“He shows the qualities of a model citizen at a young age — dependable, ethical, and hard-working,” wrote his teacher, Carla Trujillo.

They were all on their way to shaping a better future, Wishon wrote in hers. The couple “worked tirelessly to build a better life for their children and to open their own licensed child care business. In all my years of employing and mentoring caregivers, I have rarely met a couple as responsible, driven, and capable as Nicolle and Sebastian.”

“This family is not a threat,” she concluded. “They are an asset.”

Attendance had already been low for about a week at Laredo Elementary School in Aurora when federal immigration agents showed up at an apartment building down the street before school started Wednesday, according to teachers.

The first hour of classes that day was punctuated by the sound of a plane circling above and dark SUVs driving up and down the street, a teacher said. At one point, one of the SUVs parked next to the school’s crosswalk.

While some students in Nate Madson Dion’s fifth grade class were absent, most made it to class, where he said “they have people they trust, and they feel safe. But all that concern is still lurking.”

A third grader emailed her teacher to explain that she wasn’t at school because she hadn’t been able to leave her home because of the raids. “Hopefully, I’ll be back tomorrow,” she wrote, according to Madson Dion.

The Aurora school district had attendance of 89.44% on Wednesday and was at 92.25% the following day. According to Colorado Public Radio, attendance in the district had dipped to 79% on Jan. 30, the day the raids had been rumored to start.

In Denver schools, the district’s most recent lowest attendance date was Feb. 3 during a national movement for , but it had bounced back to about 86.9% on Feb. 5.

Madson Dion overheard his students having conversations about the raids last Thursday. A student who had been at the apartment building was telling the kids about it. He said seven people were taken from his building and some doors were knocked down.

Madson Dion said he stuck to most of his lessons for the day. He doesn’t guide any conversations about what’s happening outside, but lets students talk when they initiate conversations. He chimes in when he has information that could be helpful to students, he said.

“It’s super important for me to allow it to happen, while also not pressing it,” Madson Dion said. When a student was wondering what would happen if immigration agents knocked on his door, Madson Dion chimed in and told students, “Just don’t answer the door.”

Students already knew that, he said.

“Fifth graders know about warrants. Fifth graders shouldn’t have to know about warrants,” he said. “We have kids who are resilient in ways I wish they didn’t have to be.”

At nearby Hinkley High School, math teacher Beth Himes said her students had experienced many of the same things. Some had seen raids taking place and residents of apartment buildings hiding on rooftops.

“Students on their way to school had filmed people on top of a roof as they drove past the apartment complexes, and that was going around the school,” Himes said. “Students were all abuzz, they were very nervous, they were worried. Not necessarily for themselves, but for parents, other family, friends, neighbors.”

Her classroom has large windows through which students could see the immigration enforcement vehicles driving past.

The night of the raids was parent-teacher conference night at Hinkley.

Himes usually has between 12 and 14 parent meetings in a night. Last Wednesday, Himes only had six parent meetings. One parent had emailed her to ask for the information through email, and cited the raids for feeling unsafe to go meet Hines in person.

Most classes at Hinkley have gone on as normal, and while attendance is down, it hasn’t been significantly lower on any particular day, Himes said. Similar to at Laredo, she said she believes Hinkley students feel as safe as they can while they are at school. But getting to and from school can feel dangerous for them or their families.

“I think their anxiety goes up when they leave,” Himes said.

At Laredo, when an immigration SUV parked in the crosswalk in front of the school, some families felt uncomfortable crossing the street in front of that agent, so the families waited inside the school until they felt safe to leave again.

Teacher says it matters when leaders talk about immigration

In the nearby Adams 12 school district, the superintendent told his school board on Wednesday night that immigration concerns are taking a lot of time to address.

Superintendent Chris Gdowski said the district believed the parent of one Adams 12 student had been detained in Wednesday’s raids and that the child was in the temporary care of a neighbor.

Attendance had been down by as much as 5% at some Adams 12 schools, and the district was trying to problem-solve with families to find ways to get students back in classes, or find ways to keep them learning while at home, Gdowski said.

“It’s become a fairly significant part of many of our jobs on the security side in coordinating with our principals about what to do if this happens, and then there’s also fairly consistent communication needs that we have,” he said.

At a meeting the day after the raids, the Jeffco school board discussed the fears that seem to be keeping some children home from school. Although Jeffco didn’t discuss large attendance rate drops, staff told the board they will present recommendations for the superintendent in the next couple of weeks on how to help students who don’t feel safe coming into classes physically.

The board workshopped the on this Thursday to show support for immigrant and LGBTQ students who may be feeling unsafe. But board members struggled with some of the language, because they wondered what they could guarantee doing for students, especially as things keep changing.

Board member Paula Reed, was hesitant about saying the district won’t collect or share immigration information from students or families, because she said in the near future. Board members also wondered if they could control what happens outside their school buildings, and whether they should state that immigration actions that happen near schools are disruptive to students.

that is nearly identical to one the board approved in 2017 written with parent and student groups. It states that as one of the most diverse districts in the state, Aurora is dedicated to supporting and serving all students. The resolution includes updated demographic information showing that the district’s students now speak more than 160 different languages and that more than 42% of all students are learning English as a new language.

The resolution adds a requirement that Aurora schools update student emergency contact information twice a year instead of once per year and encourages families to include a non-family contact in case family members can’t pick up students.

Himes said the Aurora resolution matters because it supports school staff’s desire to keep students safe and to communicate that desire to the families and students themselves.

“It’s just been very well-communicated,” Himes said. “That’s the key.”

This story was originally published by Chalkbeat. Chalkbeat is a nonprofit news site covering educational change in public schools. Sign up for their newsletters at . 

The world is a messy place. Most of us figure this out by the time we hit adulthood: However compelling our convictions, however good our intentions, humans are constantly tripping into one another. What looks like virtuous, upstanding behavior through our eyes — always looks different to others. Worse yet, sometimes the Good Thing to Do in a moment can be all but impossible to discern. Do you tell the truth now, even if that causes your friend pain? Do you tell them later, even if your delay hurts many more people? Do you turn to violence to stop the violence of others — and if so, how much? 

Pretty much every moral tradition is clear that harm to children is among the gravest misdeeds. This isn’t complicated. Children merit unique protective cushions because of their enormous potential. How they develop now will shape their — and our — future. Further, children cannot deserve harm. They’re morally blameless — . As messy as the world is, it’s obvious that adults shouldn’t hurt children. Further, systems that are somehow violating this — bombing them, shooting them, starving them, injuring them — are also fundamentally wrong. There are no legitimate excuses. End of discussion. 

Hold that close to your heart as you reflect on the Trump administration’s recent decision to open K–12 campuses to armed enforcement actions. For 14 years, the U.S. federal government had recommended that Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents should steer clear of “” like schools, but also churches, hospitals and other community centers. Immediately after taking power, , opening schools across the country to immigration raids. 

To understand the behind this change, it’s worth understanding why officials ever avoided conducting enforcement at these locations. It’s not that federal leaders were reluctant to carry out U.S. laws, rather, it’s that they wanted to separate the potentially dangerous, complex work of immigration enforcement activity from disrupting children’s daily lives. 

As , “We can accomplish our law enforcement mission without denying individuals access to needed medical care, children access to their schools, the displaced access to food and shelter, people of faith access to their places of worship, and more. Adherence to this principle is a bedrock of our stature as public servants.”

Again: Protecting kids is a paramount moral concern. And in 2025, it’s clear that U.S. adults have collectively failed in that task. Today’s K–12 students have weathered the academic and social strains of a deadly global pandemic. They attend school in an era when campus shootings are regularly in the news and natural disasters amplified by climate change have decimated their communities and shuttered their classrooms in places like , and . They’ve watched violent assaults on representative government being not just normalized as part of U.S. politics — but excused and even celebrated by the leaders of one of our major political parties. Is it any wonder that children’s mental health ?

The kids are not all right. This is a terrible moment to introduce more uncertainty and instability into their lives. At least one major district is pushing back. Denver Public Schools this week to keep ICE agents out of schools, with the school board president noting, “Scared children can’t learn.”

Obviously, the Trump administration’s new ICE-in-Your- Classrooms policy could be stressful for children of immigrants, who are uniquely sensitive to the possible consequences of these raids. Research has that increased immigration enforcement activity around children of immigrants . In the weeks since Trump’s order, , regardless of the specific state of their family’s documentation, . 

And yet, this new policy affects all children. , “This administration is breaking with the idea that schools should be an accepting and reassuring space for young people.” Children don’t have to have an immigrant parent to struggle with this moment. It’s hard to imagine how armed law enforcement activity on campus could help them feel safer or help them learn more, especially as the most recent round of math and reading scores have confirmed that the country’s students are falling further off pace, academically speaking. 

Of course, that’s perhaps the point. The new administration’s K–12 education plans are thin (at best) when it comes to proposals for improving how schools support children’s academic achievement. , Trump and his deputies are and . 

This won’t make communities safer or improve kids’ academic performance. Research , shows that are major to their . It also has found that culturally and linguistically diverse kids are some of U.S. schools’ best students, whose presence appears to academic achievement . 

If this debate still seems complicated: remember that the world’s messy. U.S. immigration laws, , should be enforced. Meanwhile, our kids — currently overcoming generationally awful obstacles — deserve to feel safe and secure enough to focus on learning. 

But anyone who reflects on those two public priorities and concludes that children’s well-being is of secondary importance is betraying the depravity of their moral compass. They are showing that they do not, however much they protest, understand what it means to put students first. 

Conor P. Williams is a senior fellow at the Century Foundation, a Founding Partner at the Children’s Equity Project, and a father to three public school students. These views are his alone and do not reflect his employers or any organizations with which he may be affiliated. 

For educators, one of the most jarring shifts is that schools are no longer considered areas that Immigration and Customs  Enforcement (ICE) should largely avoid. “Criminals will no longer be able to hide in America’s schools and churches to avoid arrest,” acting Department of Homeland Security Secretary Benjamine Huffman declared the day after the inauguration.

Huffman went on to say that the administration trusts agents to use “common sense” on or near school campuses to realize the promise to . This contradicts long-standing policy that sets aside schools, churches, and hospitals as where ICE agents should not carry out enforcement activities.

Already, the threat of such raids has stoked community-wide fears, affecting undocumented family members and neighbors, citizens and residents working to resettle family members, and those whose legal status has just been revoked. 

For schools, research and experience tell us what will happen next: Students who are undocumented or in families with mixed legal status will and fall behind; families will no longer participate in school events; and they may limit or stop communicating with teachers and schools altogether. 

Akin to pandemic-related school closures and disruptions, many school districts with immigration populations – both in border states and – will once again face disruption and crises to manage this. Educational leaders and K-12 educators are on as they consider to immediate threats of enforcement and the ongoing, wide-ranging effects of mobilizing fear. Furthermore, those supporting immigrant communities are now to comply with enforcement actions they may oppose. 

With the scope and speed of immigration changes underway, educational leaders can assume that the impact and ripple effects of federal (and some state) actions will broadly impact their school community as a whole. 

First, we know from research that heightened enforcement affects students’ and families’ sense of safety and belonging at school: a chilling effect on the school climate can lead to , deep-set fears, andthat may reverberate throughout a classroom, even . may also decline after an immigration raid. 

Second, immigration enforcement tests students’ and families’ trusting relationships with educators, for educators to know, assess, and respond to student and school community needs if schools are deemed unsafe. Even elementary-aged students may choose silence and avoid activities that disclose . This can undo work that district and school leaders have done across the country to with families.

Third, educators perceive ICE in different ways and with of immigration policies and laws that protect students. Many education leaders are highly committed to their immigrant students, involving personnel in a to support them. Some will already have district support with clear policies in place, while others are now scrambling to find ways to legally respond to .

Given all this, what can school leaders do? We offer the following suggestions:

1. Establish guidelines and train all staff about what to do if there are reports of ICE agents either in the neighborhood or trying to enter school. Several districts in immigrant-serving communities have already established policies that call on all staff – including security, front office staff, and teachers – to if needed. This might include steps to ensure ICE agents do not enter the building or engage with students or staff; district leaders and the legal department are immediately notified; and outreach is made to community partners such as immigrant rights organizations. Some districts have worked with these organizations or with immigration attorneys to offer know-your-rights workshops for staff, families, and in some cases, students, to prepare for enforcement actions. 
2. Anticipate sustained uncertainty by supporting immigrant families and training educators in preparedness planning. Because schools are often trusted sites of care and support for immigrant communities, educators or community liaisons should help families for what happens in case of a raid or detention. If a parent or guardian is detained during school hours, school administrators need additional contacts in place, ready to step up. If these contacts are unavailable or under threat, educational leaders need to rely on relationships with local social services or community-based organizations to navigate next steps. Legal counsel is a crucial part of preparation; identifying local immigration law resources in advance is necessary.
3. Deepen ongoing efforts to create cultures of care amid disruption by addressing issues of safety and belonging now. Just as in the pandemic, educators are responding to crises that may upend business-as-usual and require flexible policies and practices. Educators can affirm their support for immigrant communities and foster strong relationships with families and community-based organizations to mitigate the anticipated chilling effect that increased enforcement will have on school attendance and family engagement. 

Essentially, educational leaders can prepare by focusing on strengthening relationships, identifying local resources, and preparing for ongoing disruptions. Immigrant communities live with uncertainty about the coming weeks and months; so do the educational leaders who support them.