Minnesota schools in ‘crisis mode’ scramble to support students amid ICE surge

On a recent morning, a Fridley middle schooler stopped a school social worker at lunch to ask why he never sees her anymore. “I really miss you,” he said, his voice dipping to a whisper.

“I know. I’ve been busy,” she responded. “I’ve been helping out the families who can’t leave their homes right now.”

The ramped up presence of federal immigration agents in the Twin Cities — and the fear it’s created — has, for nearly a month now, disrupted the normal routines of a school day for thousands of students across Minnesota.

Attendance has dropped sharply, as some kids are afraid to go to school. More and more students are opting for virtual learning options in the districts that are providing them. ICE agents have been spotted near schools, bus stops and bus routes. Some schools, from Minneapolis to Fridley, have closed temporarily over safety concerns. Classrooms are even missing youngsters who have been detained by federal authorities with their parents.

As a result, social workers and other school staff across Minnesota say they have become frontline responders, increasingly pulled in two directions — acting both as lifelines for families sheltering at home to connect them to food and rental assistance while also trying to preserve a sense of routine normalcy for students in the building.

“It’s about triaging the needs,” said one Fridley school social worker who has worked in the district for nine years.

She, and the rest of her team, asked to be identified only by their years of service in the district out of fear that speaking publicly could lead federal immigration enforcement to the families they serve.

Sen. Mary Kunesh, DFL–New Brighton, said the state is reliving the mental health and absenteeism challenges that defined the COVID era.

“Now it is very clear that we are right back to ground zero,” Kunesh said Jan. 27 at the State Capitol, where Senate DFL lawmakers and school leaders warned that immigration enforcement activity near schools is pushing Minnesota students back into crisis.

Students from across the metro plan to walk out of schools Jan. 30 and march to the governor’s mansion, seeking a pause in standardized testing and relief from a rule that can remove students from district rolls after 15 consecutive absences.

Kunesh, who chairs the Senate Education Finance Committee, said the Minnesota Department of Education has granted districts some flexibility to keep students engaged through online learning, though one school official said districts are still navigating “red tape” as absences mount.

Columbia Heights students who have made their way to school have sat in class and cried, worried their parents won’t be home when they get off the bus.

Rochester Public Schools Superintendent Kent Pekel said the district has seen four times as many students whose first language is not English take excused absences in January compared with the previous month.

St. Paul Public Schools reports that more than 7,000 students, or 22% of its population, have chosen to take temporary stay-at-home online courses while Minneapolis says 5,500 students were ready to jump on its online option when it launched in early January.

At South High in Minneapolis, Mayde, an academic coach identified only by her first name, said an entire caseload of Latino students now is staying at home. In many ways, Mayde and Berit, a social worker she works closely with, were made for this moment at South High.

In college, Berit spent a semester studying along the Arizona-Mexico border, and studied migration and immigration for her master’s degree. “I never quite anticipated that something of this magnitude would be occurring here in Minnesota,” Berit said.

She is assigned to work with families new to the country, many of them from rural indigenous areas, strangers to technology and how school systems work. Her task, as she sees it now, is to make sure everyone still feels connected — that they are a community.

She recently accompanied a mother to a hospital at 4 a.m. for a scheduled surgery.

South High has a waiting list for Wi-Fi hotspots to be delivered to homes so children can learn virtually. For most students, however, their minds are elsewhere.

In the COVID era, Mayde and Berit said, one could get outside and could wear a mask to shop for groceries and run errands. “Right now, the families can do none of that,” Mayde said. “They have to stay. So I feel it is worse than COVID.”

In Fridley schools, as in many other area districts, closets and corners have transformed into makeshift food shelves.

Inside Fridley Middle School, a small office off of the teachers’ lounge has become a supply hub, with piles of donations of toilet paper, canned goods, diapers, pet food and winter clothing. Social workers sort through donations, many from their own friends and neighbors, and pack bags for families.

“Students are struggling,” said one social worker. “They are still living their regular lives and this community stress is affecting them in ways they maybe don’t recognize.”

In between grocery runs and deliveries and arranging ways to get Chromebooks to students at home, Danielle Thompson, the district’s director of student support services who oversees social workers, is frequently checking in on her staff.

Many of the district’s social workers, like Thompson, are also mothers of young children. When her team gets together, they talk about getting texts from terrified families while sitting down to dinner with their own.

“We do all of this and then go home and have to kind of pretend nothing’s happening in front of our own kids,” Thompson said.

Aloda Sims, the district’s equity coordinator, spends much of the school day just walking the hallways to check in with students. Several teens come to her for hugs or to brag about their latest accomplishment. Her work represents that delicate balance of offering support and normalcy, she said.