My students are filled with a paralyzing fear for themselves and their families as news of schools no longer being a “secure location” from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) trickled through our community.
Last week, President Donald Trump authorized and ordered Homeland Security to enter places that they previously could not — like schools, churches, and hospitals — in the search for people who may be undocumented.
My students expressed how this news traumatized them in multiple ways.
One student asked, “Ms. Mejia, if they come for me can I jump out of the window and run?”
Another student remarked that because I teach multilingual students my “classroom would be targeted.”
To my horror, another student admitted to me that they practiced what they would need to say if ICE ever showed up at their doorstep.
I am left feeling helpless.
As a public school teacher, I do this work from a deep place of love for my community. Love is an action word, and it is a verb that must be felt. My love for my students moves me to take action.
But now there are no actions to take. My hands are tied. My feet are bound.
So where does my love go? How do I move in love? How do I work for my community?
Right now, it feels hopeless knowing that there are students in North Carolina who feel afraid. It feels hopeless knowing that kids won’t be coming to school for fear of ICE showing up. It feels hopeless knowing that our community is suffering.
I lived in that space of fear for a week, scared to even acknowledge the depth of my grief.
Then I had the opportunity to visit Freedom Park in Raleigh. Freedom Park is a monument to the work of African American leaders, many from North Carolina. Dr. Reginald Hildebrand, one of the original founders, explained that the Beacon of Freedom’s bright yellow beams reaching to the sky are similar to our Statue of Liberty. The beams are a “domestic monument” for all North Carolinians, reminding us that the light of freedom shines even in the dark, beckoning us all.
In the words of John H. Wheeler, “The fight for freedom begins every morning.”
While last week was one of the most challenging weeks that I have experienced as an educator, I understand that every day I have a mission.
I will be there to comfort my students. I will be there to hold them. I will be there to listen to them. And, I will be there to uplift their stories because “the fight for freedom begins every morning.”
It’s only been a week, and it’s already been this hard. And so, I do wonder what it will be like in a month or even in a year? Even in the midst of all the uncertainty, I know we must commit as educators, administrators, and policymakers to help our students.
Students and families need a toolkit. The first tool is to know your rights.
