Students began asking questions soon after President Donald Trump took office.

“How old do I have to be to adopt my siblings?” an area student asked a teacher, worried that their parents could be deported.

“Can I attend school virtually?” asked another student, reasoning that they would be safer from being targeted by immigration agents if they studied online at home.

A straight-A student from a South American country stunned and saddened her teacher by saying, “So when are they going to send me back?”

“Can I borrow a laminator?”  asked another, who wanted to make a stack of “Know Your Rights” flyers sturdier. High schoolers have been passing the guides out, informing people what to do if stopped and questioned about immigration status.

Trump campaigned on a vow to of undocumented immigrants, boasting of .

What that might mean for the children of targeted immigrants, or whether they would be rounded up, has been the subject of speculation, rumor and fear.

In early March, the Trump administration began at a Texas center, with the intention of deporting the children and adults together.

Kansas City area school districts are responding, training teachers and staff on protocols in case immigration agents try to enter a school and sending notices to parents.

“Not every school district, not every charter school, not every private school, has addressed the issue,” said Christy J. Moreno with Revolución Educativa, a Kansas City nonprofit advocating for .

Parents in some local schools have had their fears calmed through district communication.

“There have been some districts that have been a little bit more public about their stance on this, but in general terms, they’re not being very public,” said Moreno, an advocacy and impact officer. “It’s because of all the executive orders and the fear that federal funding will be taken away.”

Indeed, when asked to comment, most area districts declined or pointed to district policy posted online.

Immigrant children’s right to attend public school, K-12, is constitutionally protected.

A 1982 U.S. Supreme Court decision, , guarantees it regardless of immigration status.

The also ensures that schools do not ask the immigration status of children as they enroll, something that area districts have emphasized in communication to parents.

The Shawnee Mission School District relies on policies that are the responsibility of building administrators if any external agency, such as law enforcement, requests access to or information about a student.

“We strongly believe that every child deserves free and unfettered access to a quality public education, regardless of immigration status,” said David A. Smith, chief communications officer, in a statement. “While we cannot control the actions of others, we can control how we respond.”

Schools were once understood to be off limits for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Schools were considered to be along with hospitals and places of worship.

that nearly 14-year-old policy by executive order immediately upon taking office in January.

In February, the the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, arguing that the schools’ duty to educate students was hindered by the change.

Students were missing school out of fear, the Colorado educators said. And administrators and teachers were forced to redirect resources to train staff on how to react in case immigration agents entered school grounds.

On March 7, a federal judge sided with Homeland Security in denying the injunction.

The ruling gleaned some clarity for schools, with the government noting that the current policy requires “some level of approval on when to conduct an action” in a school.

But that guardrail doesn’t negate anxieties, the judge acknowledged.

In the Kansas City area, one mother, with two children in public school, indicated that her district’s support was too hesitant.

“I know that the districts at this time have not come out in support of immigrant families in these difficult times,” she said. “They are just being very diplomatic, saying that education comes first.”

Plyler v. Doe: Constitutionally protected, but still threatened

isn’t as universally understood as Brown v. Board of Education.

The U.S. Supreme Court case guaranteeing immigrant children’s right to a public K-12 education is a landmark decision, said Rebeca Shackleford, director of federal government relations for , a national nonprofit advocating for educational equity.

“Kids are losing out already, even though they still have their right to this education,” Shackleford said. “There are kids who are not in school today because their parents are holding them back.”

The class-action case originated in Texas.

In 1975, the state legislature said school districts could deny enrollment to children who weren’t “legally admitted” into the U.S., withholding state funds for those children’s education.

Two years later, the Tyler district decided to charge $1,000 tuition to Mexican students who couldn’t meet the legally admitted requirement. James Plyler was the superintendent of the Tyler Independent School District.

The case was brought by the .

Lower courts ruled for the children and their parents, noting that the societal costs of not educating the children outweighed the state’s harm. The lower courts also ruled the state could not preempt federal immigration law.

Eventually the case was taken up by the U.S. Supreme Court, which in 1982 upheld the rights of the students to receive a K-12 education, 5-4, citing the 14th Amendment’s equal-protection clause.

“By denying these children a basic education,” the court said, “we deny them the ability to live within the structure of our civic institutions, and foreclose any realistic possibility that they will contribute in even the smallest way to the progress of our Nation.”

The court also said that holding children accountable for their parents’ actions “does not comport with fundamental conceptions of justice.”

There by state legislatures to challenge the ruling.

In 2011, Alabama saw a dramatic drop in Latino student attendance, even among U.S.-born children, when the state ordered districts to determine the immigration status of students as they enrolled.

The law was later permanently blocked by a federal court.

passage of a law similar to the Texas law that led to the Plyler ruling.

The proposed law would allow districts to charge undocumented students tuition, and would require districts to check the legal status of students as they enrolled.

The bill recently passed out of an education committee.

The chilling effect of such proposals, like current calls for mass deportations, can be widespread for children, advocates said.

“How can you learn if you’re worried about whether or not your parents are going to be home when you get home from school?” Shackleford said.

Teachers nationwide are seeing the impact as students worry for themselves, their parents and friends.

“I think sometimes we forget that the words that we use as adults and the messages that we send are affecting our kids,” Shackleford, a former teacher, said. “And no one feels that more than teachers and classroom educators, because they’re right there in the rooms and hearing this and seeing the pain of their students.”

Information vacuums contribute to rumors

Voids in information leave room for misinformation, which is quickly spread by social media.

Local advocates for immigrant rights have been tamping down rumors about raids, especially in regard to schools.

There have not been any reported incidents involving ICE agents inside or on local K-12 school grounds.

But in February, near a Kansas City school, presumably as he was getting ready to drop a child off for the day’s lessons.

Homeland Security officials arrested a man they said had previously been deported. Staff of the Guadalupe Centers Elementary & Pre-K School acted quickly, escorting the child into the building.

For districts, managing communications can be a balance.

North Kansas City Schools began getting questions from parents about ICE and Customs and Border Protection early this year.

On Jan. 24, the district sent a notice to parents emphasizing policies that had been in place for several years.

“In general, law enforcement has the same limited level of access to student records as members of the public with no special permissions,” according to the notice. “Law enforcement agents are not permitted to speak with nor interact with students without a valid subpoena, court order or explicit parent permission unless it’s an emergency situation.”

Kansas City Public Schools Superintendent Jennifer Collier addressed immigration in a late January board meeting.

Collier said that work had begun “behind the scenes” after Trump rescinded the sensitive-places policy.

“What we didn’t want to do was to get out front and begin to alarm everybody, to create anxiety,” Collier said, noting the “feelings of heaviness and in some cases feelings of hopelessness.”

All staff would be trained, including legal and security teams, in identifying valid court orders or warrants.

She emphasized the emotional well-being of students. And the district has online.

“We’re going to make it to the other side of this,” Collier told her board. “So hold on. Don’t lose hope.”

This first appeared on and is republished here under a .

But educators said they are determined to help these students learn, even through this difficult time. Diana Herrera, who teaches in California’s Central Valley but who declined to name her school, vowed to protect her students as if they were her own children. Even with her sensitivity to their plight, she said, attendance has dropped — including among those born in the United States. 

“They are concerned for their family members,” Herrera said, through tears, adding her school has not given teachers any directives on how to address or quell their concerns. “If I can’t give them the right answer or if I can’t make them feel better, they are not going to continue coming.” 

Trump recently removed barriers that once kept immigration agents away from . Conservative forces — who have urged undocumented residents to consider — have also, , been strategizing to undo , the landmark 1982 Supreme Court ruling that a child cannot be denied a public education based on immigration status. 

Amid these challenges, Cheruba Chavez, who is an English language and special education teacher in New Orleans, pledged to keep her students safe and engaged: Those who miss school will get follow-up calls encouraging them to return, and those who transfer will receive all the help they need to avoid gaps in their learning.

“They are coming to school for something that no one can take away from them: an education,” she said. 

Despite the anxiety around immigration and deportation, Hector Villagra, vice president of policy advocacy and community education at the Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund, said he believes campus raids are unlikely. 

But he said staff members should understand their legal obligation: Villagra, an attorney, said schools typically do not have to honor what he called “administrative warrants” from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents. Most are mere forms issued through the Department of Homeland Security or ICE and are not judicial warrants signed by a judge or magistrate, he said. 

“These documents do not give ICE agents any authority to enter school premises without permission,” he said. 

Dan McNeil, general counsel for the American Federation of Teachers, echoed his remarks at the teachers union’s virtual town hall Thursday night. He said ICE agents on campus should be referred to the school’s administration. As for teachers, they can remain mum. “You have the right to remain silent,” he said. “You should not disclose the immigration status of your student — or even let them know if a student that they ask about is on campus.” 

ICE did not immediately respond to questions about its authority. 

Alejandra Vazquez Baur, cofounder of the National Newcomers Network, said attorneys, not front office workers, should be the ones to decipher which warrants must be acted upon.

She added that Trump’s tactics, which she characterized as “an attack” on immigrant families, are designed to make them believe they do not belong in public spaces. “Families fear to send their kids to school,” she said. “This is about exclusion, racism and power. The cruelty is the point.”

But Vazquez Baur added that immigrant advocates are using this moment to organize, unite, share ideas and push back, when possible, against the president’s directives. 

Even so, tensions remain high on the ground and some schools are cancelling in-person events for parents who are worried about coming to campus, said Nancy Rosas, senior director of schools for the Internationals Network. “Overall that fear makes people behave like they want to hide in the shadows,” she said. 

Viri Carrizales, president of ImmSchools, founded in 2018 to support educators in creating a welcoming environment for immigrant students, said the consternation around immigration has left some educators worried about addressing the matter head on. 

Carrizales, who was undocumented in her K-12 and college journey, said some school staff are prohibiting the distribution of “know-your-rights” cards to students for fear of drawing attention to their schools: She said, too, their silence on these critical issues makes immigrant families feel unsupported. Some are withdrawing their children entirely. 

ĂÛÌÒÓ°ÊÓ also reached out to multilingual learner teachers on Facebook. While some said attendance held steady, others, like Tammy Ingraham Baggett, who teaches multilingual learners in Harris County, Texas, said numbers declined noticeably in the past week.

She said two students told her they were going to miss school because of possible immigration raids: One child, whose mother was concerned for her safety at school, asked to work on her assignments at home for the rest of the week because of ICE. 

“Is your mom scared?” Ingraham Baggett recalled asking the ninth grader. “She said emphatically, ‘Yes.’ I asked if she was scared. She shrugged, eyes downcast, and nodded yes.”

Ariel Taylor Smith, senior director of the National Parents Union Policy & Action Center, whose organization has taken a strong stance in favor of immigrant communities, said she is worried about students in Republican states and about those living in the suburbs or in rural areas. 

“I think a lot of our kids in our urban cities are in districts that have the infrastructure to provide regular communication with parents in multiple languages,” she said. “That’s muscle they’ve already built — and it’s one everyone should have.”

Some suburban and rural districts might not have that same capacity, she said.

These are tough times for parents and caregivers. To raise a child in 2024 is to live with a heightened awareness of school’s social, , and academic value to children’s short- and long-term well-being. As the United States continues to wrestle with the aftermath of pandemic-wrecked school years, as we struggle to respond with something resembling a coherent agenda for , the least we should all be able to agree on is that every child does better when in school. Right? 

Wrong. The conservative Heritage Foundation, which has been mapping out its playbook for a potential second Trump administration, recently released for overturning , the 1982 Supreme Court ruling that prohibited children from being denied access to education based on their families’ immigration status. The think tank’s stance furthers the aims of Texas Republican Gov. Greg Abbott and a growing of right-wing activists eager to  yet another front in American political discourse, this time to block some children from U.S. public schools. 

Why? It’s simple: these hardliners want to bar kids from access to learning simply for the decisions of their parents, who emigrated to the U.S. and have not yet established their immigration status in the country.

This conservative crusade was and the 2024 race has seen the three-time presidential candidate up the ante on around immigrants. Dehumanizing immigrants might make it easier for some to deny education to their children, but doing so would be legally unsound, morally wrong and practically impotent.

The court’s in Plyler was straightforward: 1) the Constitution’s 14th Amendment prohibits states from denying “to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws,” and 2) undocumented children who live under a U.S. state’s jurisdiction are people who would be unduly harmed if singled out for exclusion from public education. This principle — laws apply equally to all — is an American value equal parts foundational and aspirational. By literally disregarding these children’s personhood and denying their equal access to schools, conservatives are mounting an assault on American legal traditions and the core of our democracy.

It’s no surprise, then, that their is a trainwreck of moral reasoning. In essence, it frames access to public schools as a conditional good — as something that must be earned through right conduct. That is, kids whose families may not have documentation to be in the U.S. have not “earned” access to U.S. public goods, including schools. For instance, Abbott has that it is too expensive to treat these young children as people deserving of an education, that the condition for their participation must somehow be related to their families’ abilities to pay taxes into Texas’s state coffers. 

Similarly, the Heritage Foundation is urging states to require public schools and children with undocumented parents tuition to enroll as a way to draw a lawsuit that would bring Plyler back before the high court.

Conservatives at the national level have made closely related arguments amid recent increases in immigrants arriving at the southern border. Representative Elise Stefanik (R-NY) and conservative colleagues costs associated with welcoming immigrants to New York with cuts to the state’s education budget.

But this framing misrepresents immigration’s actual relationship to the economy — and tax revenue. In February, a U.S. Department of Health and Human Services study that, from 2005 to 2019, refugees and asylum seekers contributed nearly $124 billion more to public revenues than they used in public services. The future is also sunny. that recent boosts in immigration are likely to raise U.S. GDP by $7 trillion — and public revenues by $1 trillion over the next decade. 

This conservative framing could also have some discomforting implications for native-born Americans. The moment we begin () metering access to public education according to tax contributions or parental wealth, we’ll soon have to face some uncomfortable questions. Do we exclude U.S.-born children from classrooms if their caregivers are renters who don’t directly pay ? Can they be blocked from attending school if their caregiver gets busted for ? 

Remember: this isn’t about consequences for adults. Perhaps you think we should require adults to have a job before we provide them with public subsidies to reduce their child care costs. Maybe you think that we should require adults to submit to drug tests before we let them access public food and nutrition programs. In these cases, there’s a vaguely coherent, though hard-hearted, moral case to be debated. 

But children are fundamentally blameless when it comes to questions of their families’ legal documentation for U.S. residency. To treat them otherwise is simply heinous and inhumane  — contradictory to almost any serious or tradition. Kids shouldn’t need to earn access to food, shelter, opportunities to learn, health care and the like. They’re children; they don’t need to earn the basic pieces of human dignity. 

Indeed, this was evident when Plyler was decided — 40 years ago. Writing for the majority, Justice William J. Brennan put it this way: banning these children from school would “[impose] a lifetime hardship on a discrete class of children not accountable for their disabling status. These children can neither affect their parents’ conduct nor their own undocumented status.” 

On a practical level, conservatives’ attacks on children of immigrants are equal parts ineffective and myopic. What, precisely, do they hope to achieve by banning undocumented children from public schools? That this castigation will deter immigrant parents and caregivers from coming to the United States? 

The path to living and working without established immigration status in the U.S. is already perilous. New arrivals already run massive risks; at the April 2 Baltimore bridge collapse being a heartbreaking example. The country has designed a raft of cruel to make their lives . There’s no serious reason to assume that banning their children from school would raise the punitive threshold to a level that would change these adults’ behavior. Immigrants to the U.S. often come fleeing violence and/or persecution far worse than these artificial deterrents.

What’s more, it’s profoundly shortsighted for any country to treat children’s development and potential as disposable resources. U.S. birth rates have been falling for some time. Demographers like Dowell Myers, of the University of Southern California, have long warned that this presents for our economic future. to fill available jobs also means to support Medicare and the Social Security system (along with other public programs). 

Moreover, new research shows that the presence of immigrant students can benefit U.S.-born peers in the classroom. A found that, in most cases, greater exposure to immigrant peers correlated with better math and reading scores among U.S.-born students. In 2021, researchers , affirming that increasing a student’s immigrant exposure was correlated with bumps in reading and math scores. It also revealed that, on average, immigrant students have fewer serious disciplinary incidents than their U.S.-born peers, which might have a beneficial effect on their classmates’ behavior and academic outcomes.

The United States’s ability to immigrant families has long been a strength . Policies that make it harder for us to support and develop the skills of young immigrant children undermine that core competitive advantage. 

Plyler has advanced progress and equity, changing our schools — and our communities — for the better. Surely the American legal system will make quick work of such a monumentally immoral and substantively ineffective idea, particularly since it runs counter to demonstrated community benefits and long-standing legal precedent. 

And yet, conservatives spent years engineering an activist Supreme Court majority willing to put such considerations to the side when there are right-wing cultural and political victories to be had on , , and more. We must not let them invent an inhumane rationale for disregarding a child’s right to education.

The book, which called an “inspirational must-read for educators, policymakers, and parents” and “empathetic call for change”, brings to life historic struggles to improve immigrant education, profiles innovative classrooms across the country, and shares inspiring stories of Lander’s own students’ immigrant journeys and how they created their own American identities. 

In the below excerpt, adapted with permission, Lander shares the inspiring story and advocacy of four Texas families who, in the 1970s, risked deportation to establish the right of undocumented children to attend public schools: 

***

The sun had yet to surface when LĂ­dia and JosĂ© Lopez gently shook their five children from their slumber, dressed them in their Sunday best, and tucked the family into their white Dodge Monaco. The sedan was piled high with books, clothes, pots, even the family’s small TV, but the Lopezes were not embarking on a road trip. Their destination was a mere two blocks away, at the federal district courthouse in Tyler, Texas.

Alfredo, nine and the oldest, remembers little. It was a Friday, the week after the start of school, the year 1977. The little black-haired boy should have been entering second grade, his sister should have been starting first. But just as classes were set to resume, their parents received a letter informing them that tuition was required if they wished their children to study in the public schools. For the Lopez family, the fee was unaffordable.

Just over two years earlier and more than two hundred miles south, in Austin, the legislature had revised the state’s education code. But before the final vote was cast, the border city of Brownsville slipped in a provision that, at the time, went largely unnoticed. Going forward, public schools would no longer be obligated to educate their community’s undocumented children. and, the state would contribute no funds to support those children’s academic futures. Public schools were left with a choice: cover the cost themselves, charge tuition, or exclude such students altogether.

In the blistering summer heat of 1977, the Tyler school Board, arguing that the city was on the precipice of becoming “a haven” for undocumented families, voted to charge tuition for every student who could not prove legal residence—one thousand dollars per child, roughly one-fourth of most undocumented texans’ annual income.

The city of Tyler, in the eastern corner of texas, was founded in the mid-1800s, built by enslaved Black Americans, and named for a Us pres- ident who initiated the annexation of the Lone Star State. Surrounded by vibrant blooms, it was a city that proudly proclaimed itself the “rose capital of America.” and it was here, in 1969, where JosĂ© Lopez found work tending rosebuds after crossing the southern border. Within a few years he sent for his wife, and then for his children, who left their home in the small Mexican city of Jalpa and traveled hundreds of miles north to reunite.

On arriving in the United States, Alfredo was enrolled in elementary school and attended dutifully until, in the summer of 1977, the school board changed its policy. of the city’s nearly 16,000 students, less than 60 were undocumented, and they were suddenly ineligible to study in the city’s schools.

Growing up in Mexico, neither JosĂ© nor LĂ­dia Lopez had been able to stay long in school. Their families needed them in the fields. But, for their children they wished for a different future. And so, a week later, a little before 6 a.m., the Lopez family pulled into the parking lot of the federal district courthouse, the sky just beginning to bloom pink. There they met three other undocumented families. Together they had made the perilous choice to sue the city’s schools. It was a decision the parents made knowing what might happen. That was why, the night before, LĂ­dia and JosĂ© Lopez had packed the Dodge Monaco to the brim. as LĂ­dia would recall years later, in walking into the courthouse they were prepared to be immediately arrested and deported. But for their children, it was a risk they chose to take


***


The judge assigned to the case was William Wayne Justice. As the Washington Post would write of Justice a decade later, “Justice in Texas is not an abstraction, but flesh and blood and, as only real life can render it, a federal judge.” The descendant of Norwegian immigrants and confederate soldiers, Justice was born in east Texas at the dawn of the Roaring Twenties. He grew up destined for a career in law. His father, a lawyer, left little to chance, designating his son his official legal partner when Justice was just seven years old. A child of the Great Depression, Justice credited his father with teaching him the essence of his name. As Justice would recall, for his father, “a farmer in bib overalls was entitled to no less dignity than the president of a bank in a pinstriped suit.

Decades later, President Kennedy appointed Justice as a US attorney, and then President Johnson appointed him a federal district judge. He joined the court two months after reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in Memphis and arrived in Tyler to a segregated city firmly rooted in the Deep South. Two years into his tenure he definitively ordered the desegregation of Texas schools. When he ordered the city’s own Robert E. Lee High school to take down its profusion of confederate flags, incensed white students took their flags and circled the courthouse shooting epithets. As one student would recall, “Justice was blamed for everything.”

In Texas, Justice was hated and revered. A shy, slightly stooped, bookish man, Justice spent a lifetime, as he would share years later, trying to live up to his name.

On Friday morning the families filed into Judge Justice’s court. They were joined by the state’s bleary-eyed assistant attorney general, sporting blue jeans; she had arrived in the wee hours of the morning and the airline, she apologized, had lost her luggage. (As Justice would recall twenty-five years later, “she plainly thought that the whole proceedings were insane, being there early in the morning like that and being confronted with these extraordinary allegations, that the children of illegal aliens would be entitled to a public education. She obviously thought that was such a ridiculous proposition and it really didn’t deserve her appearance there.”)

As the Tyler parents offered testimony, their children, four-year-olds, six-year-olds, eight-year-olds, watched silently. Their lawyer, Larry Daves recalled, “They were the cutest, quietest, most unbelievably disciplined children I’ve ever seen. They were probably mystified, but they sat for hours, quiet as mice, watching the proceedings.” It would be the last time Daves would see the children at the center of his case. While the full trial would not take place for months, following the Friday hearing, Judge Justice ordered the schools, in the meantime, to readmit their students. The following Monday, Tyler’s undocumented children were back behind their desks. They had missed only a week of school


***


Alfredo Lopez, who had been set to start second grade when he sat in Justice’s courtroom, had just begun third grade when Justice handed down his ruling in September 1978. “Already disadvantaged as a result of poverty, lack of English-speaking ability, and undeniable racial prejudices,” wrote the judge, “these children, without an education, will become permanently locked into the lowest socio-economic class.” as both sides affirmed, “The illegal alien of today may well be the legal alien of tomorrow,” acknowledging that many undocumented immigrants might eventually be granted permanent residency. Of the school district’s argument that its policy would discourage migration, the judge was dismissive: such a plan was “ludicrously ineffectual,” he wrote. Justice was disdainful too of the district’s attempt to slim educational costs by “shav[ing] off a little around the edges.” It was a policy, the judge openly suggested, that might have been made because the “children of illegal aliens had never been explicitly afforded any judicial protection, and little political uproar was likely to be raised in their behalf.”

In his ruling, for the first time in US legal history, Justice afforded these children explicit protection based on the Fourteenth Amendment of the Constitution. The amendment stated that no state could “deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” A century earlier, in a San Francisco case involving the discrimination against Chinese business owners, the Supreme Court, pointing to the drafters’ choice of the word “person” and not “citizen,” ruled that the Due Process clause applied to everyone. In a case a decade later, the Court found constitutional protection for four undocumented Chinese men. Building on this logic in 1978, Judge Justice ruled that undocumented people were also protected under the Fourteenth Amendment’s Equal Protection clause. As he would describe years later, “I guess I made my own little contribution.”

In the decades to come, In the coming years, the case would make its way up to the Supreme Court. In its 1982 decision in Plyler v. Doe, the Court would conclude undocumented children were protected under the Fourteenth Amendment and that no matter their legal status, children were entitled to study in American public schools. In classrooms across the country, many undocumented children came to see themselves as American. But that belonging was bounded. With no path to legalized status, as Harvard Professor Roberto Gonzales has written, “for undocumented youth, the transition to adulthood is accompanied by a transition to illegality. . . . Youthful feelings of belonging give way to new understandings of the ways that they are excluded from possibilities they believed were theirs.” And so new families took up the mantle. They marched, testified, organized. Texas became the first state to allow undocumented students access to in-state tuition for college in 2001 and the Deferred Action for childhood arrivals (DACA) program was announced on the thirtieth anniversary of the Supreme Court’s decision in Plyler v. Doe.]

***

In the living room of his parents’ home hangs a framed copy of the Supreme Court’s synopsis of its decision in Plyler v. Doe. LĂ­dia and JosĂ© Lopez have lived in the same house for more than forty years. It is the same house where, before sunrise one morning in 1977, they woke their children and bundled them into their packed Dodge Monaco to drive two blocks to the federal district courthouse.

Near the end of his life, looking back over nearly four decades as a federal district judge, Judge William Wayne Justice singled out one case out of hundreds he had decided: Plyler v. Doe. “I feel that’s the most important case that I’ve ever had.” Justice wasn’t sure how many children had been able to study because of the decision; he reckoned a hundred thousand at least. In actuality, the count is more than a million. Of his career, he had one wish: “I hope people remember me for someone trying to do justice. That’s what I’ve tried to do.”

Excerpted from by Jessica Lander. Copyright 2022. Excerpted with permission from Beacon Press.