As President Donald Trump has ramped up deportations, some immigrant students across New York have been too afraid to attend class in person. In response, some school districts have turned to virtual learning, a move the state’s Education Department is sanctioning, officials revealed last week.
“I will tell you in the sense of a crisis, we do have some districts right now … that are taking advantage and providing virtual instruction to our children who are afraid to go to school,” Associate Education Commissioner Elisa Alvarez told state officials at May’s Board of Regents meeting.
Alvarez shared with the board a memo the state Education Department issued in March clarifying that districts have the flexibility to offer online instruction to “students who may be unable or averse to attending school, including during times of political uncertainty.”
The memo further specified schools can tap online learning for immigrant and migrant students “who may be affected and reluctant to attend school in person due to concerns about their personal safety and security.”
Alvarez didn’t disclose how many or which districts were using the approach and for how many students. A state Education Department spokesperson did not respond to follow-up questions.
New York City public schools already have virtual options available and aren’t doing anything different for immigrant students fearful of attending school, a spokesperson for the city’s Education Department said.
Still, the disclosure from state officials highlights the ongoing fears some immigrant students are facing four months into the Trump administration and raises fresh questions about how their school experiences are being affected.
Shortly after taking office, Trump rescinded longstanding guidance barring federal immigration agents from making arrests at “sensitive locations” including schools.
Migrant families staying in New York City shelters expressed acute fears during the week after Trump’s inauguration in January and stayed out of school in large numbers, likely contributing to lower citywide attendance rates that week (though Mayor Eric Adams later downplayed the attendance woes). Some city educators said they’ve seen attendance for immigrant students rebound since that first week.
City policy prohibits federal law enforcement agents, including Immigration and Customs Enforcement, from entering schools without a warrant signed by a judge, and Education Department officials have trained school staff on detailed protocols for how to respond.
At the state level, the Attorney General’s office and Education Department issued joint guidance in March reiterating that state and federal law both compel districts to only permit federal law enforcement to enter schools under very limited circumstances.
Many school leaders have worked hard to communicate those policies and reassure anxious families. And immigration enforcement inside of schools has remained rare.
But some high-profile raids have targeted school-age children, including one in the upstate New York hometown of Trump border czar Tom Homan that swept up three students in the local public schools, sparking fear and outrage. And there have been reports across the country of parents detained by immigration agents right outside schools during drop-off time.
Under those circumstances, virtual learning could give schools a way to keep up some connection with students or families who might otherwise completely disengage.
But some New York City educators said they’re still working hard to convince fearful immigrant students to come to school in person, noting that virtual learning was especially challenging for English language learners during the COVID pandemic.
Lara Evangelista, the executive director of the Internationals Network, which oversees 17 public schools in the five boroughs catering exclusively to newly arrived immigrant students, said none of her schools have made the “purposeful choice” to engage fearful students through virtual learning.
“Virtual learning for [English Learners] was really challenging during COVID,” she said.
Alan Cheng, the superintendent who oversees the international schools as well as the city’s dedicated virtual schools, said he hasn’t seen any significant changes in enrollment or interest in online learning due to fear of in-person attendance among immigrant students.
And while virtual learning might be able to offer a version of the academic experience of in-person school, it’s harder for it to replicate some of the other services that schools provide families.
“Our schools serve much more than just the academic environment,” Cheng said. “They are really community schools, they provide health care, they provide plenty of other resources.”
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 ckbe.at/newsletters.
Inside a classroom at the Center for Family Life in Sunset Park on a recent Monday morning, teacher Julian Colón was busy setting out notebooks, folders, pens and crayons on a table. Outside in the hallway, a sign taped to a wall reads “CLASES DE INGLÉS POR ESTE CAMINO” — English classes this way.
It was the first day of the spring semester in this predominantly Latino corner of the Brooklyn neighborhood, where Colón was expecting about 30 students in class.
Julian Colón teaches an English as a Second Language class at the Center for Family Life in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, April 7, 2025. (Ben Fractenberg/THE CITY)
But not everyone who wanted a seat at the table was there. More than 400 students are now on the center’s waitlist, according to Maria Ferreira, its adult employment program director.
“I sit right by the reception, and every single day we get inquiries about ESOL,” Ferreira told THE CITY, using the acronym for English for Speakers of Other Languages. “Every day we’re adding people to the waiting list.”
Demand for English classes has increased with the influx of migrants that began in 2022, according to a new report by United Neighborhood Houses, which represents 46 settlement houses that help serve immigrant populations, even as City Hall has slashed funding.
At Flatbush-based social services giant CAMBA, program manager Jude Pierre said more than 700 prospective students are now waiting to get into one of its 10 city-funded ESL classes, which collectively accommodate about 200 students.
“With the migrant crisis…we ended up getting a lot of individuals coming here to register for classes to the point where we basically had to stop taking registrations,” Pierre told THE CITY. “We got to the point where it didn’t make any more sense to have thousands of people on a waiting list, knowing we would never get to most of them. We started saying, ‘Sorry, we can’t do this, because it’s not fair to you,’ and trying to refer them to other places.”
Last year, the Department of Youth and Community Development reduced funding for literacy classes by nearly 30% to $11.9 million from $16.8 million, the report noted. Many long-time providers in areas where migrant shelters were clustered also lost out on DYCD dollars after the agency adjusted its funding eligibility formula,” as THE CITY previously reported.
An immigrant student takes an English as a Second Language class at the Center for Family Life in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, April 7, 2025. (Ben Fractenberg/THE CITY)
According to the report, many classes now depend entirely on discretionary dollars from the City Council, which increased its funding to $16.5 million in fiscal year 2025 from roughly $6.5 million in recent years to back organizations DYCD left behind.
Several providers, however, told THE CITY that compared to DYCD’s multi-year contracts, Council funding, which requires annual reconsideration, makes it difficult to plan ahead and maximize offerings.
And for some, like CAMBA, Council funding was not enough to cover the losses from DYCD with the group reducing the number of students it serves by 174 and closing its waitlist, Pierre said.
So far, providers say, demand among new arrivals has remained steady even as the Trump administration’s mass deportation efforts have led many new arrivals fearful of working or sending kids to school or even walking the streets.
“Ideally, these programs would be supported by a robust, baselined program managed by DYCD that offered students and providers stability with year-over-year funding,” the report says. “However, until DYCD revisits its unnecessarily restrictive stance…it is crucial that the City Council continue this support to make sure that adult learners continue to have access to quality classes.”
‘I Understand People Now’
While fewer than 3% of the 1.7 million immigrants in need of English classes are able to access it through city-funded programs, according to the report, students who were able to find their way into a class told THE CITY improved English has helped with their daily lives — and their job prospects.
Currently, two-thirds of New Yorkers with limited English proficiency earn less than $25,000 a year, according to American Community Survey data cited in the report.
Rosanie Andre, 42, came to New York City from Haiti in 2023, and said she started taking English classes at CAMBA last year after three months on a waitlist. Since then, she’s been able to get a job serving food at Speedway while also delivering packages for Amazon per diem.
“When I did my interviews, you have to speak in English with the manager. And it helped me a lot because I understand people now,” Andre, a native Haitian Creole and French speaker, said in English.
Learning English has also helped Andre communicate with her 6-year-old — who only started speaking after their move to New York City.
“And she started to speak English — English only. She knows nothing in Creole,” Andre said. “I try to listen to my daughter and speak to her English-only.”
With her English improving, Andre said she is better able to help her daughter with her homework.
“I try to explain her how to do it in English,” Andre said. “If no CAMBA, I have difficulty to understand. Cuz when I come here, I don’t understand nothing. When people speak, I smile because I understand nothing.”
Roodleir Victor, 29, saw English classes as an essential stepping stone in furthering his education. He had completed his college coursework for an economics degree in his native Haiti, he said, though he ultimately fell just short of obtaining a degree because it would have required him to stay in the country’s capital, which has been embroiled in political turmoil and gang violence.
He started taking English classes when he moved to the city in 2023, he said, in hopes of continuing his studies here. For four days a week, he attended English classes in Flatbush from 1 to 4 p.m. before heading to Long Island to work at a pasta factory on a 5 p.m. to 5 a.m. overnight shift.
Victor is now enrolled in a GED class, he said, and hopes to study computer programming after that.
“I would like to study at a university which I can learn technology. But it’s difficult for me, because I don’t have the support I need to go there,” Victor said in English. “But for me personally, I believe in my capacity to adapt.”
‘It’s Not Impossible’
Back in Sunset Park, a 55 year-old asylum seeker was patiently waiting to enter the room half an hour before class started at 9 a.m.
“I’m just eager to learn,” the native of Ecuador said in Spanish. “It’s important because I want to communicate with others for a job.”
The mother of five arrived in New York City three months ago, she said, after seeking asylum at the Mexico-California border then being detained there for three months. She’s cleaning homes to help make ends meet, but hopes to land a job with steadier income soon.
“Whatever I can get I pick up, but those jobs come and go,” she said. “I was in a workforce development program but the curriculum was in English so I started looking for classes.”
Oscar Lima rolled into English class with his e-scooter just after class started at 9:30 a.m. The 34-year-old is now in his second semester of classes, he said, which he makes time for in between catering gigs, food deliveries and a third job as a barback.
Columbian immigrant Oscar Lima says learning English will help him work in the food service industry, April 7, 2025. (Ben Fractenberg/THE CITY)
“My bosses told me, ‘You’re a good worker, but you need to learn English,’” Lima said. “And I decided that I didn’t want to learn English myself.”
Lima and other students now settled into their seats, turning their attention to Colón.
“Everybody, are we ready? Listos?” Colón asked.
“Yes,” the class responded timidly.
Students practice learning the names of colors at an English as a Second Language class in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, April 7, 2025. (Ben Fractenberg/THE CITY)
Colón then began presenting ground rules on a digital whiteboard: Try to arrive within the five-minute grace period after the class start time, and come prepared with books, papers and pencils.
“The most important rule,” Colón continued, before repeating himself in Spanish. “Please don’t be afraid to participate and make mistakes.”
At break time, Lima shared how he, his wife and his two sons had arrived in the city from Colombia about three years ago. While the family had started off at a shelter, Lima said, they’re now able to afford an apartment of their own. His two kids — seven and ten years old — quiz him about names of objects around the house, he said, and often encourages him to learn English alongside with them.
“New York, it poses many challenges. It’s difficult at the beginning, but it’s not impossible,” Lima said in Spanish. “My American Dream is my sons…I want my children to perhaps have what I didn’t have, but at the same time I want to show them how to earn it, and how to work like good people.”
Before starting at his Harlem high school, Jeurry always assumed he was progressing appropriately in school, despite having significant learning challenges.
However, in his freshman year, he began to notice himself struggling to read longer words and more complex sentences.
As he grew increasingly overwhelmed, it became clear that the small classes exclusively for students with disabilities that he had been in since kindergarten had not adequately prepared him for high school.
Still, Jeurry managed to pass nearly all his classes. His final meeting with his Committee on Special Education — which consisted of Jeurry’s mom and several faculty members — took place in December 2016. By then, the senior had earned 45 credits — 44 were required to graduate — and a C+ average, records show.
But Jeurry was devastated to learn that he would not earn a diploma.
The reason was based on a decision the committee made when Jeurry was in sixth grade and, according to records, never revisited while he was in high school. At that time, the educators concluded that Jeurry could not learn grade-level curriculum. They decided he would be “alternately assessed,” or evaluated based on lower achievement standards. New York State students who take alternate assessments through high school cannot earn a diploma, a prerequisite for military service, many jobs, and most degree- or certificate-granting college and trade school programs.
Heartbroken, he begged the faculty to find a solution during the 2016 meeting. “They didn’t even care,” Jeurry said. “They just wanted me to ‘graduate’ and get out.”
Jeurry, who is now 26 and was diagnosed with a mild intellectual disability after graduating high school, requested that his last name be withheld over concerns about the stigma surrounding intellectual disabilities.
Special education advocates say the systemic failures that led to Jeurry’s situation eight years ago continue to jeopardize the futures of similar students. Last school year, 6,116 New York City students took the New York State Alternate Assessment, according to state data. Federal law requires that states offer such assessments for students with disabilities who are incapable of taking state tests. Importantly, it also states that only “students with the most significant cognitive disabilities” can take the alternate assessment, and that schools must fully inform parents of the potential ramifications. (State education departments are responsible for ensuring compliance with these mandates.)
Too often, however, those standards are neither maintained nor enforced, special education advocates, teachers, and families told Chalkbeat. Instead, factors like under-resourcing, nebulous procedures, and a failure to equip parents to make fully informed decisions have led schools to place some students without significant cognitive disabilities on a non-grade-level, non-diploma track. Students who take alternate assessments are typically placed in non-inclusive, low-rigor settings, which can deprive them of academic and socialization opportunities.
At the December 2016 meeting, the members of Jeurry’s special education committee said their hands were tied. According to documentation from the meeting, Jeurry’s mother said “she was not made aware of the long-term effects of alternate assessment when it was first initiated or during any supplemental [meetings].”
“They would always tell my mom, ‘His diploma is going to be real,’” Jeurry said. “She kept believing them.”
Throughout his time as a K-12 student in Harlem, Jeurry received inadequate academic support and struggled to advance past a first- or second-grade reading level.
In response to requests to interview state special education leadership, a New York State Education Department spokesperson said in an email: “NYSED is committed to working with schools and parents to determine the appropriate participation of students with disabilities in [the alternate assessment] and to fully understand the impact it has on these students.”
Since New York’s alternate assessment is used to meet federal special education law requirements, the spokesperson said, “there are very strict criteria for its development, administration, and applicability to students.”
Christina Foti, the city Education Department’s deputy chancellor for inclusive and accessible learning, acknowledged that there is room for more robust safeguards, and she said the Education Department recently recommended that the state consider several alternate assessment-related policy changes. They include clarifying definitions and participation criteria, requiring the use of a decision-making flowchart and checklist, and mandating that special education committees “conduct a complete and up-to-date battery of psychoeducational assessments” before making assessment decisions.
The Education Department is also pursuing local-level reforms, but officials are still in the early stages of developing a “definitive language and shift in practice [and] policy,” Foti said.
Inequitable outcomes for students on non-diploma track
In New York, special education committees determine annually how students will be assessed, usually starting around third grade. Although the state has established participation criteria for the alternate assessment, deciding whether students meet those criteria can be a relatively subjective process.
Data obtained through a public records request show that students placed on the non-diploma track are disproportionately Black or English language learners. Last school year, 29% of New York City students who took the alternate assessment were Black, while Black children represented only 20% of all students and 26% of those with disabilities. More than 29% of students who were alternatively assessed were English learners, while such students accounted for just 19% of the school system’s overall population and 14% of students with disabilities.
There have been some signs of progress toward ensuring that only students with the most significant cognitive disabilities are placed on the non-diploma track. Participation is declining in New York City and statewide, and racial disproportionalities among alternatively assessed students decreased between the 2022-23 and 2023-24 school years, according to the data.
The New York City Education Department has worked to minimize subjectivity in assessment decisions “over the past five or six years,” said Arwina Vallejo, the department’s executive director of school-based evaluations and family engagement.
To more holistically determine students’ aptitude for grade-level learning and test participation, schools now administer “specialized assessments in reading, in writing, in math, in executive functions, in neurological abilities,” Vallejo said.
The Education Department also trains school psychologists in “culturally responsive, non-discriminatory assessment practices” to mitigate the impact of bias, she said.
But special education advocates and families say more must be done. School officials sometimes change the graduation track of children with mild intellectual disabilities or disruptive behaviors when they don’t have the will or means to try other options, said Juliet Eisenstein, a special education attorney and former assistant director of the Postsecondary Readiness Project at Advocates for Children of New York.
“It’s just a box that’s checked and not really talked about, because it’s an easier solution than figuring out a program that fits this more complex student profile,” she said.
Resources that could help such students — like one-on-one tutors or specialized placements — are often limited or nonexistent. This is especially true in New York City, where around 300,000 students qualify for special education services, and government audits have found that the Education Department regularly fails to meet its obligations to them. An estimated 2,300 special-education staff vacancies exist citywide.
Trevlon, 18, has been both alternatively and regularly assessed. He has a history of behavioral problems, an attention deficit hyperactivity disorder diagnosis, and an intellectual disability classification from the Education Department. Trevlon struggled to keep up academically in elementary school and attended a middle school in District 75, a citywide district that caters to students with significant disabilities. There, he received intensive academic and behavioral support and made major strides, but he was not on a diploma track.
Trevlon, who requested that his last name be withheld because a complaint he filed against the Education Department has yet to be resolved, said he was unhappy in the highly restrictive environment. He committed himself to proving that he could be successful at a community high school. By the time Trevlon graduated middle school as valedictorian of his eighth grade class, his special education committee had agreed that he could transition back to the diploma track and into a community school.
However, Trevlon was placed in a school that did not offer the learning environment the Education Department had determined most appropriate for him: a self-contained special education classroom for 15 students. Instead, he attended large classes that integrated students with disabilities and their general education peers. He said he struggled to focus and keep up. As he fell behind academically, he became increasingly frustrated and started acting out.
After his tumultuous freshman year, Trevlon was moved back onto a non-diploma track in a District 75 school, where he felt out of place and insufficiently challenged. He begged for a different placement that might offer a path back to community school — or a diploma, at least — but nothing changed, he said.
Knowing he would never have a “real” high school experience, Trevlon grew disillusioned, started attending school infrequently, and finally dropped out last year.
“It’s not just, ‘Oh, I stopped going to school because I don’t like school,’” Trevlon said. “I feel like the system gave up on me to a certain extent, as a Black male. … All I ever really wanted to do was to work and sit down and be like everybody else.”
Parents often unaware of children’s placement on non-diploma track
Schools are legally mandated to inform a student’s parents abou
When Jeurry was in middle school, the faculty members of his Committee on Special Education pointed to his lack of academic progress and recommended that he be “alternately assessed.” Although his mother agreed to the change, she did not realize that the decision would take away her son’s opportunity to earn a high school diploma. (Sarah Komar for Chalkbeat)
t the long-term ramifications of the alternate track. However, special education advocates said they regularly work with parents who had no idea their children were on a non-diploma path — often until it was too late.
“Many parents do not even know to ask questions about alternate assessment, because they’re never informed,” said Young Seh Bae, executive director of the Queens-based Community Inclusion and Development Alliance and a parent of a student with disabilities. It’s only when graduation approaches that many parents say, “‘Oh, I didn’t realize my child wouldn’t receive a high school diploma … The school didn’t explain my child never will be able to go to college or get a license for certain things.’”
In New York, diploma-track students must pass a certain number of Regents exams, making it one of eight states that require high school seniors to pass standardized tests to earn a diploma. (New York State is planning to phase out Regents as a graduation requirement in fall 2027.)
Because Jeurry was on a non-diploma track and never took his Regents, he could only earn a Skills and Achievement Commencement Credential, which cannot be used to apply for college, trade school, the military, or many jobs.
Jeurry was reading and doing math on a first-grade level by the start of middle school and on second- to third-grade levels by the end of high school, records show. Over the years, the Education Department classified him with several different kinds of disabilities, including a learning disability at one point and an intellectual disability at another. While he was a student, he was not evaluated by an outside provider, which some families pay for if they think their children have been improperly classified by district professionals. Faculty members repeatedly told Jeurry’s mother he was incapable of progressing academically, his academic records show, and they eventually used his lack of progress to justify placing him on the non-diploma track.
From kindergarten through eighth grade, he remained in self-contained classes, receiving only speech language therapy as a supplementary service. In high school, Jeurry moved from a self-contained setting into integrated classrooms, which benefited him socially but only further highlighted how far his academics lagged behind his peers.
At no point did Jeurry’s special education committee suggest additional services or more intensive support, records show. Federal law mandates more intensive intervention if a special education student is not making progress toward his goals.
Kim Swanson, the principal of Jeurry’s high school who overlapped with him during his last year there, declined to comment on Jeurry’s situation. She said her school “always follows state guidance.”
The school’s special education committees have always informed parents of the ramifications of alternate assessment, but the school has implemented additional safeguards during Swanson’s 11-year tenure as principal, she said. These include sending home a form letter that was developed by the state with input from the city Education Department (a requirement of all New York schools since 2019), and ensuring that faculty members discuss students’ progress toward their goals before special education committee meetings.
Vallejo, who oversees school-based evaluations, said the Education Department worked with the state to develop the form letter because “there was a point where little information was available to students and families regarding alternate assessment and the impact of that designation.” Education Department faculty are committed to fully involving students’ parents in assessment decisions and revisiting them annually, Vallejo said.
Special education advocates have lobbied the state for specific alternate assessment reforms for years, with little success — including a 2022 push for policy changes that could have helped demystify the assessment decision-making process.
In August 2024, for the first time in at least five years, the state proposed policy tweaks of its own, including seeking feedback from special education advocates and families on how to clarify the existing eligibility criteria for alternate assessment and update existing decision-making tools and training materials.
In the future, Jeurry hopes to earn a four-year degree and go into marketing before someday opening his own restaurant.
After legal battle, NYC pays for more than 1,300 hours of services
Knowing that he wouldn’t receive a diploma, Jeurry skipped his June 2017 graduation.
He then languished in a city-funded GED program for more than a year. In fall 2018, on the recommendation of a teacher, Jeurry contacted Advocates for Children. Within months, a pro-bono legal team arranged by the organization filed an action against the city school system, accusing it of denying Jeurry a free, appropriate public education as required by law.
While the legal process unfolded, Jeurry’s advocates helped him apply for his diploma through a “superintendent determination,” a safety net for students with disabilities who are unable to earn the Regents scores needed for graduation but meet all other requirements. In June 2019, he received his high school diploma.
As part of the 10-month legal process, a neuropsychologist evaluated Jeurry and diagnosed him with a mild intellectual disability, concluding that he could have benefited from more rigorous support, such as one-on-one literacy tutoring.
The city ultimately agreed to compensate Jeurry for what he missed during his 14 years of school by paying for 1,308 hours of academic tutoring, life skills training, and transition services. For more than a year, he attended all-day tutoring sessions that started with phonics and built upward.
“At first, I was like, ‘It’s not helping,’” Jeurry said. But then, little by little, I started noticing my reading level going up … and I was like, ‘Oh, it is working!’”
Although it has required him to work through significant education-related trauma, Jeurry now attends community college online while working full time. He’s considering transferring to a four-year institution after he earns his associate degree in business administration.
“I didn’t want to go back, but I had to do it, you know?” Jeurry said. “I needed to get a better education.”
Sarah Komar is a New York City-based journalist. She reported this story while at the Toni Stabile Center for Investigative Journalism at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism.
Chalkbeat is a nonprofit news site covering educational change in public schools.
