In a quiet corner of a classroom, a teacher sits in tears. She is carrying the weight of a story that has become far too common: a father of a student, a man who lived for his daughter’s future, was detained by ICE. He was disappeared from the life he helped build for his daughter.
Today, this is the reality in Saint Paul. We see it when American citizens feel the need to carry passports to the grocery store, as if their own skin isn’t enough proof of their belonging. We see it in the empty desks of students whose parents have decided that the safety of four walls is better than the risk of a school bus. And we hear it most clearly in the voice of a child who, when asked about a birthday celebration, simply says, “We cannot do anything because of immigration.”
When a child views “immigration” not as a civics lesson, but as the reason her birthday cake stays unlit, we have to ask ourselves: Is this the community we promised to build?
While some choose to spend their time denigrating our neighbors, I still find myself holding onto hope. I see it in organizations that have served immigrants long before the current crises – like COPAL and Unidos. Hope in the solidarity of educators demanding action and who refuse to let their students feel alone. And the hope of young people themselves, willing to organize, educate, and advocate for change. Hope, after all, isn’t a lottery ticket we hold; it’s the muscle we build by standing together.
The Dissonance of Our District
But hope requires more than individual courage; it requires institutional integrity. I work for Saint Paul Public Schools—a district that tells the world:
At Saint Paul Public Schools (SPPS), our mission is both bold and simple: to inspire students to think critically, pursue their dreams and change the world.
Yet, right now, there is a painful dissonance between those words and our actions. When a group of high schoolers—the very young people we’ve told to “change the world”—organized a training to help their neighbors understand their constitutional rights, they were told by the district it was not allowed.
We cannot tell our students to be leaders on Monday and then punish their leadership on Tuesday. I don’t write this to cast blame, but to highlight a systemic failure. When we work in silos, when we let fear or bureaucracy dictate our response to a crisis of the soul, we fail the very families who trust us.
Beyond the moral dissonance lies a cold, fiscal reality. In Minnesota, school funding follows the student. Every time a desk sits empty because a family is too afraid to cross the threshold of a school, the district loses the vital state aid required to keep our doors open. By failing to prioritize our immigrant students, we aren’t just losing our soul—we are effectively de-funding our own classrooms.
To bridge this gap, we must move from reactive despair to proactive infrastructure. Here is the road map for a district that leads:
1. Form a standing committee dedicated to serving immigrant families.
We have incredible people across this district—teachers, counselors, social workers, and organizers—who are doing the work of a dozen people each. Currently, immigrant support is treated as a niche issue, leaving educators to carry the emotional and logistical labor in isolation. We need to form a standing committee with folks from across the district who are dedicated to serving our immigrant families. When we unify our resources and share the emotional labor, we don’t just work more efficiently; we remind every educator that they aren’t carrying this weight alone.
2. Codify a policy of belonging.
Our Superintendent, Dr. Stanley, has spoken often about the power of belonging, but our attendance policies were built for a low-risk environment. Currently, our policies effectively punish families for their own victimization. We must implement Inclusive Attendance Reform, moving away from automatic “drops” for students forced into the shadows. If we don’t decouple physical presence from enrollment status during times of crisis, we are incentivizing families to leave the district entirely. Inclusive Attendance Reform is more than a gesture of kindness; it is a retention strategy that ensures SPPS remains the district of choice for our city’s diverse population.
Whether it’s through adaptive attendance reform or the “Sanctuary School” model of creative communication and understanding, our message must be clear: Your seat is still here. You are still one of us.
3. Create more alternative education opportunities for immigrant students.
As a math teacher, I’ve experienced the challenge that arises when a student misses weeks of instruction. It’s a mountain that feels impossible to climb. But we are an innovative district. Let’s use that innovation to create alternative pathways for students who are afraid to leave their homes. This isn’t about “remedial” work; it’s about providing high-level, critical thinking opportunities that meet students where they are—ensuring that a crisis of safety doesn’t become a crisis of opportunity.
4. Create dedicated space in the Online School for immigrant students.
We have the tools. We have the Online School. Let’s use them strategically to build a robust, high-quality digital space specifically designed for those for whom the physical classroom has become a place of anxiety. By expanding its reach and staffing it with educators adept at serving immigrant families and using technology to bridge cultural divides, we create a high-quality “Public Option” for education that is decoupled from the physical risks of the street—a beacon available for students across the entire state.
The Call to Lead
The way we overcome despair is by building a community that is as organized as the forces that seek to tear it apart. We are not asking SPPS to do something new; we are asking it to be who it says it is.
I encourage our leaders—both in the boardrooms and the classrooms—to work together, and if you are an educator, a parent, or a neighbor, share this and ask your school or Board leadership: What is our plan for the desks that sit empty today?
Let us create a district and community grounded in the realities of today and the vision of a more hopeful tomorrow.
Note: This blog post was written in full by myself and then adapted based on editorial assistance using Google Gemini.
