Benjamin Herold’s Disillusioned: Five Families and the Unraveling of America’s Suburbs offers a rare and urgent account of how postwar suburbia—often seen as the apex of the American Dream—has become a fractured and unstable landscape, especially when it comes to public education. Through the personal stories of five families across the US, Herold builds a layered portrait of promise and betrayal.
This is a book educators and students should read—not for comfort, but for clarity.
Rutgers professor Kevin Clay (L) interviews Benjamin Herold (R), July 2025
Suburbia as an Engine of Inequality
Herold’s central thesis is as unsettling as it is undeniable: the post-WWII suburban boom was not a neutral act of growth, but a racialized, exclusionary economic project that served some families at the expense of others. Communities that were once predominantly white and upwardly mobile—like Compton and Penn Hills—are now struggling with declining school enrollment, shrinking tax bases, and rising segregation by income and race. In places like Evanston and Atlanta, attempts to reckon with inequality are often met with community resistance, bureaucratic inertia, and political backlash. Meanwhile, rapidly diversifying suburbs around Dallas reflect the shifting demographics of the country—and the urgency of crafting a new educational and civic infrastructure that doesn’t fall into the same traps.
Herold doesn’t flatten these places into statistics. Instead, he follows five families trying to raise their children in what were once considered “good” school districts. Some are Black families confronting the limits of inclusion. Others are white families grappling with their own privilege and discomfort. Through them, we see how suburban schools continue to promise opportunity while too often delivering disappointment—especially for children of color, immigrant families, and those living paycheck to paycheck.
A Curriculum for Truth
Educators reading Disillusioned will recognize the impossible pressures placed on schools: to close racial achievement gaps, maintain property values, please demanding parents, and adapt to political mandates—often without adequate funding or community cohesion. Herold shows how schools, even with the best intentions, are asked to solve problems they did not create and are not empowered to fix on their own.
This book is especially useful for those who teach about inequality, education policy, or American history. It connects housing policy, school funding, and institutional trust in ways that are personal and accessible. For students, it opens up a broader view of how structural forces—redlining, white flight, suburban sprawl, and tax policy—shape their daily lives and futures, often invisibly.
Beyond the Classroom
Disillusioned also serves as a sobering reflection for anyone involved in reform efforts. School choice, desegregation programs, testing regimes, anti-racism initiatives—all have had mixed results, in part because they fail to challenge the core structures of suburban exclusion. Without deeper shifts in housing, taxation, and civic engagement, educational equity remains aspirational.
Herold’s reporting does not offer easy solutions. But it does offer something more valuable: context, empathy, and a sense of urgency. He shows us that while the suburbs may look different than they did in 1950, many of the underlying rules remain the same—and the consequences are growing more severe.
A Necessary Reckoning
The five towns Herold explores are not outliers. They are bellwethers. The racial and economic tensions playing out in Compton, Evanston, Penn Hills, Atlanta, and Dallas are already shaping the future of America’s suburbs—and its public education system. These are not just stories about local politics or school board fights. They are about the future of democracy, the erosion of public goods, and whether the next generation will inherit anything better.
For anyone serious about education, equity, or the American future, Disillusioned is essential reading. It demands not just understanding, but action.
Sources
Herold, Benjamin. Disillusioned: Five Families and the Unraveling of America’s Suburbs. The New Press, 2024.
Rothstein, Richard. The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America. Liveright, 2017.
Jackson, Kenneth T. Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States. Oxford University Press, 1985.
Taylor, Keeanga-Yamahtta. Race for Profit: How Banks and the Real Estate Industry Undermined Black Homeownership. University of North Carolina Press, 2019.
The initiative is part of a larger strategy to build a teaching workforce in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) equipped for the demands of modern education. Organised by the UAE Ministry of Education, it reflects a broader strategic commitment in the country to invest in teaching talent and adopt global best practices in education.
The program was held in collaboration with the Talent and Success Educational Foundation within the Sirius Federal Territory. It is part of an ongoing partnership that aims to deepen international cooperation in education and expand the professional capabilities of UAE-based educators.
We value global knowledge exchange and the adoption of innovative, research-driven practices that strengthen our education system Sarah Al Amiri, UAE Minister of Education
The training includes over 60 hours of in-depth instruction focused on modern teaching methodologies, particularly within the STEM fields. Participants are engaged in sessions on activity and project-based learning, educational transitions, and authentic assessment.
While the identities of the participating educators have not been disclosed, officials say the group was selected through a competitive process targeting high-performing teachers with the potential to transform education in the UAE.
Through daily workshops and peer exchange sessions, educators are also encouraged to share experiences and reflect on best practices from diverse educational settings.
Sarah Al Amiri, the UAE’s minister of education, emphasised that the program aligns with the Ministry’s vision of developing a forward-looking education system.
“As the world continues to evolve, we remain committed to equipping our educators with the tools they need to create future-ready learning experiences,” she noted. “We value global knowledge exchange and the adoption of innovative, research-driven practices that strengthen our education system.”
By embedding international standards into local practice, the Ministry aims to enhance the UAE’s educational competitiveness while responding to the country’s specific needs and aspirations. In recent years, it has placed an increasing focus on educators’ mobility and professional development through international partnerships.
The UAE’s engagement with institutions like Sirius reflects a wider regional trend of forging global partnerships to enhance workforce capacity and education systems.
As the sector in the MENA region becomes more globally interconnected, such initiatives are expected to play a critical role in shaping longterm reforms.
More than 400,000 K-12 educators across the country will get free training in AI through a $23 million partnership between a major teachers union and leading tech companies that is designed to close gaps in the use of technology and provide a national model for AI-integrated curriculum.
The new National Academy for AI Instruction will be based in the downtown Manhattan headquarters of the United Federation of Teachers, the New York City affiliate of the American Federation of Teachers, and provide workshops, online courses, and hands-on training sessions. This hub-based model of teacher training was inspired by work of unions like the United Brotherhood of Carpenters that have created similar training centers with industry partners, according to AFT President Randi Weingarten.
“Teachers are facing huge challenges, which include navigating AI wisely, ethically and safely,” Weingarten said at a press conference Tuesday announcing the initiative. “The question was whether we would be chasing it or whether we would be trying to harness it.”
The initiative involves the AFT, UFT, OpenAI, Microsoft, and Anthropic.
“We are actually ensuring that kids have, that teachers have, what they need to deal with the economy of today and tomorrow,” Weingarten said.
The academy will be based in a city where the school system initially banned the use of AI in the classroom, claiming it would interfere with the development of critical thinking skills. A few months later, then-New York City schools Chancellor David Banks did an about-face, pledging to help schools smartly incorporate the technology. He said New York City schools would embrace the potential of AI to drive individualized learning. But concrete plans have been limited.
Vincent Plato, New York City Public Schools K-8 educator and UFT Teacher Center director, said the advent of AI reminds him of when teachers first started using word processors.
“We are watching educators transform the way people use technology for work in real time, but with AI it’s on another unbelievable level because it’s just so much more powerful,” he said in a press release announcing the new partnership. “It can be a thought partner when they’re working by themselves, whether that’s late-night lesson planning, looking at student data or filing any types of reports — a tool that’s going to be transformative for teachers and students alike.”
Teachers who frequently use AI tools report saving 5.9 hours a week, according to a national survey conducted by the Walton Family Foundation in cooperation with Gallup. These tools are most likely to be used to support instructional planning, such as creating worksheets or modifying material to meet students’ needs. Half of the teachers surveyed stated that they believe AI will reduce teacher workloads.
“Teachers are not only gaining back valuable time, they are also reporting that AI is helping to strengthen the quality of their work,” Stephanie Marken, senior partner for U.S. research at Gallup, said in a press release. “However, a clear gap in AI adoption remains. Schools need to provide the tools, training, and support to make effective AI use possible for every teacher.”
While nearly half of school districts surveyed by the research corporation RAND have reported training teachers in utilizing AI-powered tools by fall 2024, high-poverty districts are still lagging behind their low poverty counterparts. District leaders across the nation report a scarcity of external experts and resources to provide quality AI training to teachers.
OpenAI, a founding partner of the National Academy for AI Instruction, will contribute $10 million over the next five years. The tech company will provide educators and course developers with technical support to integrate AI into classrooms as well as software applications to build custom, classroom-specific tools.
Tech companies would benefit from this partnership by “co-creating” and improving their products based on feedback and insights from educators, said Gerry Petrella, Microsoft general manager, U.S. public policy, who hopes the initiative will align the needs of educators with the work of developers.
In a sense, the teachers are training AI products just as much as they are being trained, according to Kathleen Day, a lecturer at Johns Hopkins Carey Business School. Day emphasized that through this partnership, AI companies would gain access to constant input from educators so they could continually strengthen their models and products.
“Who’s training who?” Day said. “They’re basically saying, we’ll show you how this technology works, and you tell us how you would use it. When you tell us how you would use it, that is a wealth of information.”
Additionally, Trevor Griffey, a lecturer in labor studies at the University of California Los Angeles, warned the New York Times that tech firms could use these deals to market AI tools to students and expand their customer base.
This initiative to expand AI access and training for educators was likened to New Deal efforts in the 1930s to expand equal access to electricity by Chris Lehane, OpenAI’s chief global affairs officer. By working with teachers and expanding AI training, Lehane hopes the initiative will “democratize” access to AI.
“There’s no better place to do that work than in the classroom,” he said at the Tuesday press conference.
Chalkbeat is a nonprofit news site covering educational change in public schools.
The Trump administration is slashing the funding for new projects focused on STEM education and has terminated hundreds of grants focused on equitable STEM education. This will have enormous effects on education and science for decades to come.
Meaningful science education is crucial for improving all of our lives, including the lives of children and youth. Who doesn’t want their child or grandchild or neighbor to experience curiosity and the joy of learning about the world around them? Who wouldn’t enjoy seeing their child making careful observations of the plants, animals, landforms, and water in their neighborhood or community? Who wouldn’t want a class of kindergartners to understand germ transmission and that washing their hands will help them keep their baby siblings and grandparents healthy? Who doesn’t want their daughters to believe that science is “for them,” just as it is for the boys in their classroom?
Or, if those goals aren’t compelling for you, then who doesn’t want their child or grandchild or neighbor to be able to get a well-paying job in a STEM field when they grow up? Who doesn’t want science itself to advance in more creative and expansive ways?
More equitable science teaching allows us to work toward all these goals and more.
And yet, the Department of Government Efficiency has terminated hundreds of grants from the National Science Foundation that focused squarely on equity in STEM education. My team’s project was one of them.
At the same time, NSF’s funding of new projects and the budget for NSF’s Education directorate are also being slashed.
These terminations and drastic reductions in new funding are decimating the work of science education.
Why should you care?
You might care because the termination of these projects wastes taxpayers’ hard-earned money. My project, for example, was 20 months into what was intended to be a 4-year project, following elementary teachers from their teacher education program into their third year of teaching in classrooms in my state of Michigan and across the country. With the termination, we barely got into the teachers’ first year–making it impossible to develop a model of what development looks like over time as teachers learn to engage in equitable science teaching.
You might care because not funding new projects means we’ll be less able to improve education moving forward. We’re losing the evidence on which we can make sound educational decisions–what works, for whom, and under what circumstances. Earlier NSF-funded projects that I’ve been involved with have, for example, informed the design of curriculum materials and helped district leaders. Educators of future teachers like me build on findings of research to teach evidence-based approaches to facilitating science investigations and leading sense-making discussions. I help teachers learn how they can help children be change-makers who use science to work toward a more just and sustainable world. Benefits like these will be eliminated.
Finally, you might care because many of the terminated and unfunded projects are what’s called NSF Early Career Awards, and CAREER program funding is completely eliminated in the current proposed budget. CAREER grants provide crucial funding and mentoring for new researchers. A few of the terminated CAREER projects focus on Black girls and STEM identity, mathematics education in rural communities, and the experiences of LGBTQ+ STEM majors. Without these and other NSF CAREER grants, education within these fields–science, engineering, mathematics, data science, artificial intelligence, and more, from preschool through graduate school–will regress to what works best for white boys and men.
To be sure, universities have some funds to support research internally. For the most part, though, those funds are minimal. And, it’s true that terminating existing projects like mine and not funding new ones will “save” the government some money. But toward what end? We’re losing crucial evidence and expertise.
To support all children in experiencing the wonder and joy of understanding the natural world–or to help youth move into high-paying STEM jobs–we need to fight hard to reinstate federal funding for science and science education. We need to use every lever available to us–including contacting our representatives in Washington, D.C.–to make this happen. If we aren’t successful, we lose more than children’s enjoyment of and engagement with science. Ultimately we lose scientific advancement itself.
Elizabeth A. Davis, University of Michigan
Elizabeth A. Davis is a professor of science education and teacher education at the University of Michigan in the Marsal Family School of Education. She teaches beginning elementary teachers how to teach science and studies how these teachers learn to teach science, particularly with a focus on how they learn to engage in justice-oriented science teaching. Davis has published over 60 peer-reviewed papers, focusing on aspects of science education, teacher education, and curriculum materials, and her work has been cited over 16,000 times. She chaired a recent report from the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine focused on preschool through elementary science and engineering education. Davis has received around $9 million dollars in grant funding, starting in the early 2000s when she received the Presidential Early Career Award for Scientists and Engineers at the White House (a version of the NSF Early Career Award mentioned in the commentary). Most of that funding has come from the National Science Foundation. She has mentored about a dozen doctoral students. Most importantly, Davis has taught over 800 preservice teachers in her 28 years as a teacher educator at Michigan, helping to launch them into their careers as elementary teachers.
Latest posts by eSchool Media Contributors (see all)
This audio is auto-generated. Please let us know if you have feedback.
ALEXANDRIA, Va. — To address chronic shortages of special educators and disability experts, leaders in the field are looking at best practices across early childhood, K-12 and postsecondary to focus on the similar challenges all three levels face in attracting, preparing and retaining special education professionals.
The cohesive approach to filling shortages of early interventionists, teachers, administrators, paraprofessionals and specialized instructional support personnel — as well as trying to reverse a decline in teacher education enrollment — reflects a shared mission to support students with disabilities at all age levels, speakers said July 14 at a legislative summit hosted by the Council for Exceptional Children and the Council of Administrators of Special Education.
“Schools are facing a significant shortage of qualified special education teachers — a challenge that directly affects the support and outcomes for students with disabilities,” said Kevin Rubenstein, president of CASE.
Rubenstein added that finding enough teachers to fill staff vacancies “feels like trying to spot a unicorn,” because it’s “rare but magical.”
At the start of the 2024-25 school year, 74% of both elementary and middle schools reported difficulty filling special education teacher vacancies with fully certified teachers, according to federal data. Early childhood education is also facing challenges in recruiting and retaining early interventionists.
At the higher education level, enrollment in teacher preparation programs has plummeted by 45% in one decade, according to CASE.
Supporting special educators
Developing a comprehensive special educator pipeline can better support teacher prep activities so future educators can eventually help boost outcomes for students at all levels, speakers said.
According to Amanda Schwartz, associate project director of the Maryland Early EdCorp Apprenticeship Program at the University of Maryland, some solutions to recruiting and retaining early interventionists include: boosting salaries, reducing teacher-student ratios, and training on high standards for early intervention services.
Recruiting and retaining qualified early interventionists is critical to children’s development, Schwartz said. “We want our teachers to have all this content in order to be able to deliver appropriate practice in classrooms,” she said.
David Krantz, executive director of special education at Michigan’s Saginaw Intermediate School District, said it’s helpful to have robust data that can pinpoint where there are staffing struggles.
Krantz then pointed to specific ways districts can attract and retain paraprofessionals who support special educators in the classroom. For starters, he said, paraprofessionals need to know their work matters.
“If people don’t feel valued in their service, they’re going to leave,” Krantz said.
The Michigan Association of Administrators of Special Education started a paraeducator learning series in January to provide professional development and other support to paraprofessionals. About 350 paraprofessionals have participated so far, Krantz said.
In the higher education field, Kyena Cornelius, an education professor at the University of Florida, put it bluntly: “Our supply pipeline is broken.”
While alternative pathways to the teaching profession have grown, those programs often don’t provide the depth of training into teaching pedagogy or disability-specific knowledge needed, she said. The alternative pathways, Cornelius added, were never meant to replace traditional teacher preparation programs
She highlighted CEC’s professional standards for special educators as a blueprint for the knowledge and skills teachers need so they are ready to serve students with disabilities and stay in the profession.
“We need to think about how we can not only attract and retain but how we can comprehensively prepare teachers in an affordable way, how we can make it attractable and get them the skills,” Cornelius said.
New elementary teachers who promote equity in science are proving highly effective at engaging students, no matter their background, a new University of Michigan study shows.
U-M researchers found that new educators are pioneering paths in science education by offering opportunities for scientific conversations, innovative learning strategies and encouraging children to become active participants in scientific exploration.
“When teachers are equipped to foster a more equitable and just learning environment in science, it not only enhances children’s understanding of scientific concepts but also empowers them to see themselves as scientists and to use science to address real-world issues that matter in their communities,” said Elizabeth Davis, a professor at U-M’s Marsal Family School of Education.
“Beginning teachers use a range of effective strategies to work toward more equitable science teaching. They vary in their emphasis on opportunity and access, representation and identification, expanding what counts as science and engaging children as change-makers using science to support a better world. This variation highlights the multiplicity of entry points into this challenging work and shows these teachers’ many strengths.”
The study, published in the General Proceedings of the 5th Annual Meeting of the International Society for the Learning Sciences 2025, also identified areas for growth: These teachers were less consistently likely to work to broaden what counts as science and to link science to social justice.
Davis and co-authors Jessica Bautista and Victoria Pérez Nifoussi said the study helps understand how different approaches to equity in science education can work together, potentially influencing future teacher training for improved K-12 science learning.
They emphasized the clear need for teacher educators and curriculum developers to provide more concrete examples and resources to help future teachers navigate complex, justice-oriented approaches to science.
“All children deserve to experience the joy and wonder of the natural world, yet science is taught far less often than language arts or math in elementary schools,” Davis said. “Furthermore, many students are marginalized in science, including girls, students of color, children with learning differences and queer or gender nonconforming children.”
Funding challenges impact long-term research
The study is part of the U-M ASSETS research, a four-year longitudinal project that began in September 2023. Although it was intended to run for four years, the project, funded by the National Science Foundation, was terminated in its 20th month, just shy of two years from its start.
“The termination of these NSF projects–focused on STEM education, and in particular equity in STEM education–is going to adversely affect science education and science for generations to come,” Davis said.
“We are seeking additional funds for this work. Regardless, we will continue to support the teachers who participate in this project and we’ll continue to collect and analyze data to the extent we’re able to do so.”
The team is now working on characterizing the participants’ first year of teaching to assess how their approaches to equitable and just elementary science teaching align with and differ from their approaches during teacher education.
Fernanda Pires, a Brazilian native, is a Lead Public Relations Representative at Michigan News, who covers the School of Education, student learning, coordinates media training and works with international communication. She holds a Master degree in Journalism/Broadcasting from Michigan State University and has more than 20 years of experience in communications. In Brazil, she worked for about 10 years as a broadcast reporter at Brazil’s national TV Globo and as a writer for the daily newspaper Correio Popular, in one of the largest cities in São Paulo State. She also worked as a public relations/corporate communications specialist for Brahma Brewing and Tilibra, the country’s leading manufacturer of school, office and time management stationery products.ᐧ
Latest posts by eSchool Media Contributors (see all)
America’s K-12 educators are more stressed than ever, with many considering leaving the profession altogether, according to new survey data from Prodigy Education.
The Teacher Stress Survey, which polled more than 800 K-12 educators across the U.S., found that nearly half of teachers (45 percent) view the 2024-25 school year as the most stressful of their careers. The surveyed educators were also three times more likely to say that the 2024-25 school year has been the hardest compared to 2020, when they had to teach during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Student behavior challenges (58 percent), low compensation (44 percent), and administrative demands (28 percent) are driving teacher burnout and turnover at alarming rates. Public school teachers were more likely to report stress from unrealistic workloads, large class sizes, school safety concerns, and student behavior issues than their private school counterparts.
“The fact that stress levels for so many teachers have exceeded those of the pandemic era should be a wake-up call,” said Dr. Josh Prieur, director of education enablement at Prodigy Education and former assistant principal in the U.S. public school system. “Teachers need tangible, meaningful, and sustained support … every week of the year.”
Additional key findings include:
The vast majority of teachers (95 percent) are experiencing some level of stress, with more than two-thirds (68 percent) reporting moderate to very high stress. K-5 teachers were the most likely to feel extremely/very stressed (33 percent). Sixty-three percent of teachers report that their current stress levels are higher than when they first started teaching.
Nearly one in 10 teachers surveyed (9 percent) are planning to leave the profession this year, while nearly one in four (23 percent) are actively thinking about it. One-third of teachers do not expect to be teaching three years from now, likely because nearly half (48 percent) of teachers don’t feel appreciated for the work that they do.
Teachers are finding ways to prioritize their well-being, but time limits and job pressures often get in the way. Seventy-eight percent of teachers say they actively make time for self-care, but nearly half (43 percent) feel guilty for spending time on self-care and 78 percent have skipped self-care due to work demands. Implementing school-provided self-care perks and mandatory self-care breaks would appeal to teachers, with 85 percent and 76 percent taking advantage of each benefit, respectively.
Top solutions that would reduce teachers’ stress include a higher salary (59 percent), a four-day school week (33 percent), stronger classroom discipline policies (32 percent), and smaller class sizes (25 percent). Public school teachers were more likely to prefer a shorter week, while private school educators opted for higher pay.
“Teacher Appreciation Week should serve as the starting point for building systems that show we value teachers’ time, talent, and well-being,” said Dr. Prieur. “Districts can do this by investing in tools that reduce the burden on teachers, prioritizing time for self-care and implementing policies that reinforce teachers’ value as an ongoing commitment to bettering the profession.”
Laura Ascione is the Editorial Director at eSchool Media. She is a graduate of the University of Maryland’s prestigious Philip Merrill College of Journalism.
Krystal Emerson never imagined her son would spend his days at school being forcibly moved against his will by school staff and shut in an empty room.
But during the 2023-24 school year at Ellsworth Elementary-Middle School, that’s what happened — at least 18 times, according to Emerson and school district incident reports reviewed by the Maine Morning Star. Staff members put the 7-year-old boy in holds, forced him into empty rooms and did not let him out until he calmed down or his parents picked him up.
“It broke him, and it broke me,” Emerson said.
The trauma became so severe that her son, now a third grader, no longer attends school in person, she said.
What happened to Emerson’s son is not an isolated case. Across Maine, schools use restraint and seclusion on students more than 10,000 times each year, according to Maine Department of Education data — with some districts resorting to the emergency tactics regularly while others have changed policies and taken other steps so that such interventions are only used as a last resort.
In recent years, Maine as a whole has made an effort to reduce restraint and seclusion in schools, particularly for students with disabilities, with the U.S. Department of Education citing staff and student injuries and the resulting trauma for students as the reasons to curtail their use. The department has also condemned and discouraged these practices for years under multiple presidential administrations. Rare cases have resulted in serious injuries to students and even death.
A 2021 state law limits restraint and seclusion to emergencies. But as Maine educators report more challenging student behavior in the years since pandemic school closures, there have been calls to allow school staff to restrain and seclude children more often. A newly proposed bill would broaden the circumstances under which school staff could restrain or seclude students, igniting debate among educators, parents and lawmakers about how to manage student behavior without inflicting harm.
The Maine Education Association and the Maine School Management Association, representing teachers and administrators statewide, both support the proposal, citing increased reports of disruptive and violent student behavior — something educators nationwide have also reported in recent years.
The Gardiner-area school system, Maine School Administrative District (MSAD) 11, has led the push for that proposal. Victoria Duguay, principal of River View Community School in Gardiner, and MSAD 11 Superintendent Patricia Hopkins shared stories with lawmakers of students who hit and spit at adults, scream in hallways, throw chairs and destroy other students’ schoolwork.
Under the 2021 state law, school staff can only restrain students (immobilize them and move them against their will) or seclude them (isolate them in a room that they can’t leave) if their behavior “poses an imminent danger of serious physical injury” — requiring medical intervention beyond first aid, according to the Maine Department of Education regulations that govern restraint and seclusion.
“Staff are being hit, they’re being bit, but it doesn’t meet the threshold of serious imminent danger, because a 5-year-old isn’t going to [cause] an injury that requires medical care,” Hopkins said during an April 23 public hearing.
This extreme behavior, when it happens in a public place at school, traumatizes other students who witness it, Duguay said. The school sometimes has to close off access to common spaces — the gym or cafeteria — if a student acts out in a hallway through which students would need to pass.
Under the legislation MSAD 11 is supporting, staff would be able to move students against their will to a seclusion room or another quiet space without it counting as a restraint, which districts have to record, document, and report to the state.
But some educators who have pursued alternative training don’t agree that loosening restraint and seclusion requirements is the answer.
“The consequences of passing this bill will only inflict more trauma on students,” said Audrey Bartholomew, associate professor and coordinator of special education programs at the University of New England, who trains special education teachers. “Additionally, the behavior will keep happening, because restraint and seclusion is not an appropriate response to challenging behavior, and it will in no way help students remediate their behavior. These should not be referred to as strategies, treatments or solutions.”
Inside the three-hour restraint and seclusion of a 7-year-old
In October 2023, Emerson’s son started a behavior plan to help with concentration and self-regulation. The plan, which Emerson shared with the Maine Morning Star, highlighted the mother’s concerns about her son’s anger, dysregulation, anxiety and ADHD, and noted Emerson’s finding that occupational therapy had helped her son better regulate.
One week after the plan was put into place, the boy arrived at Ellsworth Elementary-Middle School already agitated, hit another student with a Pete the Cat stuffed animal and tried to leave the classroom, setting off a series of escalating interventions in which staff physically restrained him, relocated him against his will, and ultimately placed him in a small room where he stayed until his father arrived, according to incident reports shared with the Maine Morning Star.
The reports, which staff or administrators are required to write, offer an inside look at the behavior leading up to the restraint, how the situation escalated as staff restrained and secluded the boy, and how it continued for three hours, ending when Seth Emerson picked his son up from a seclusion room.
When the second grader initially tried to leave his classroom, two educators cornered the boy in a hallway nook, according to the report written by the school’s assistant principal. When he tried to push past them, they placed a mat between themselves and the child to block him from hitting them, and initiated the first of several physical holds. Each time he was released, he briefly calmed down but didn’t follow directions to sit still or stay in a designated spot, prompting a cycle: he would attempt to flee, staff would block him, the boy would resist, and staff would restrain him again, the report says.
About an hour in, while hiding in a locker, he asked to go home. A staff member moved him to a classroom, where he hid under a desk, retrieved rocks from his backpack, and threw them at staff, the report said. While the report described the projectiles as rocks, Emerson said her son had pebbles in his backpack.
Two hours in, staff called his parents. Even after he calmed down, they placed him in a seclusion room — referred to as a “quiet room” in the report — where they continued telling him to sit in a specific spot. When his father arrived, the boy walked out on his own, calm and cooperative.
Incidents like that continued for several more months for reasons that Emerson said did not warrant these measures: After he pulled books off shelves, punched a door, or refused to accompany staff to a quiet room, staff would put him in a physical hold or placed him in a room alone, according to a complaint Emerson filed with the district.
“I never condoned any of the behavior, whether he was throwing a book or whether he was yelling or running out of the classroom,” she said. “But he was not getting any education whatsoever last year. He was literally just going to school and being restrained and secluded.”
Frequent seclusions push an educator to quit
It’s not only students and their families who feel the trauma from restraints and seclusion. The educators who are told to put their hands on children feel it, too, several current and former teachers and education technicians told the Maine Morning Star.
Ashley Rose took a job as an ed tech at SeDoMoCha Elementary School in Dover-Foxcroft in August while working toward a degree in special education. But after months of witnessing staff placing students in empty rooms as they screamed and cried to be let out, she changed course.
In March, Rose switched her major, deciding she no longer wanted to become a teacher. On April 28, she resigned, writing to Superintendent Stacy Shorey that she had repeatedly raised concerns with supervisors about the school’s frequent use of seclusion, the lack of staff training on student behavior, and the absence of alternatives — without seeing meaningful change.
SeDoMoCha Elementary School has “quiet rooms” located within special education classrooms — which Rose described as 10-by-6-foot rooms with no windows. Some have benches and one light, while others are entirely empty, she said. All the doors have windows in them so staff can monitor students.
In her 10 years of working in special education, she has never seen such frequent use of quiet rooms, Rose said.
In December, Rose found herself participating in her first seclusion. The student she was working with wasn’t physically aggressive, just loud, and Rose’s plan had been to escort her into the special education classroom — not the quiet room — to help her calm down.
The student went with her voluntarily but was crying, she said. When they got to the classroom, another staff member who had worked at the school longer said it was part of that student’s behavior plan to go to the quiet room.
“That wasn’t my plan,” Rose said. “That room scares me just looking at it as an adult.”
As the student became more agitated, Rose said her own anxiety rose. If the student didn’t calm down, the other employee told Rose she had to shut the door. Rose complied, and then her colleague told her to hold the door shut with her foot to keep the student inside, she said.
Inside the room, the student began having what appeared to be an anxiety attack and threatened to break the window. She calmed down after about 20 minutes, and Rose let her out. Rose said she was not directed to file an incident report, nor was she told if someone else in the district did, despite the requirement in state law that districts document every seclusion.
Over the holiday break that followed, Rose said she had trouble sleeping. “All I can think about is the student I put in that room,” she said. “School should be their safe place, and these students were not feeling safe.”
Shorey, the superintendent, said staff members are required to report every incident, but she did not know about the particular incident Rose described. Special Education Director Sue Terrill said it’s possible that a staff member other than Rose wrote a report, but the district was unable to locate any documentation of that event.
The district trains employees in safety care — crisis management and prevention practices — Terrill said. It is open to other trainings, too, she said, including one that Rose brought to Terrill’s attention in February offered by the Maine nonprofit Lives in the Balance, which other districts have used to dramatically reduce their reliance on restraint and seclusion.
Quiet rooms present a gray area
Rose said she saw staff members keep students in seclusion rooms even when they were calm, using those same rooms for a variety of reasons beyond seclusion, which is banned or strictly regulated in at least seven states, according to the MOST Policy Initiative, a Missouri nonprofit. Maine came close to banning the rooms in 2021, but the final version of the law was amended to allow their use in emergencies.
Rose said she saw staff place students in quiet rooms to calm down after acting out, and then not allow them to exit for 20 minutes after they calmed down. If the seclusion happened at the end of the school day, sometimes the student would be expected to return to the quiet room the next day, she said.
Terrill recalled Rose raising this as an issue but denied keeping students in the rooms after they calmed down and no longer met the legal threshold for confinement.
But the district does use these rooms as timeout spaces, either by student choice or by staff direction, Terrill confirmed. Often, Terrill said, staff members are positioned outside the rooms, as they would be in a seclusion incident, but the student is typically free to leave the room, which is not the case in a seclusion.
Sometimes, the door is open, or a student can choose to shut the door with a staff member standing outside, she said.
“It can be the same room used if the student was in seclusion,” she said. “But if they’re taking a break because of something that happened, and that’s being used as a break space, the student might continue to work in there until they’re ready to go back to the classroom.”
Like RSU 68 in Dover-Foxcroft, districts across Maine also use seclusion rooms as quiet spaces, according to Ben Jones, a former Disability Rights Maine attorney who now works for Lives in the Balance.
“I think it’s actually more the rare case that the school is like, ‘We’re going to build this room and we’re going to call it the seclusion room, and it’s going to be used just for seclusion,’” he said.
If a student has voluntarily shut themselves in the seclusion room with a staff member outside and is free to go at any time, it would not count as seclusion under Maine law, he said. But if staff members ask students to stay in there to complete their work, as Rose described, whether it would count as a seclusion that districts are required to report to the state is “open to interpretation,” Jones said.
“The overall thing is, the kid is not learning, not in the classroom, in something that could easily turn into seclusion,” he said. “It’s inappropriate at best and potentially illegal if it’s an unrecorded seclusion.”
When are students and staff in “imminent danger”?
Education technicians like Rose — aides who often work with students one-on-one or in small groups — are often the ones handling student outbursts or potential violence, said Greg Kavanaugh, who spent 13 years working as an ed tech and special education teacher in Biddeford, Portland, and Yarmouth.
Ed techs are among the lowest-paid professionals in education, and often the least trained — including on behavior management techniques.
“They’re having to make good decisions about when to restrain, when to seclude, and their judgment is going to be really hard because they’re so stressed, overwhelmed, underpaid,” Kavanaugh said. “That just leads to more mistakes, more lapses in judgment.”
In his experience, Kavanaugh said, restraint and seclusion were consistently treated as last-resort measures — used only in extreme situations.
Staff received training on managing student behavior, they debriefed after restraints and seclusions, and they held regular conversations with parents, he said, which disability rights advocates recommend as best practices.
But working in a functional life skills program with students with moderate to severe disabilities, Kavanaugh said, deciding whether to restrain or seclude a child was never easy despite clear protocols in place. Even when a student threw a laptop across the room or hit him, he had to determine whether the behavior posed an imminent danger of serious injury that would require medical intervention beyond first aid — the standard in Maine law — and only intervene physically if it did. He also had to keep calm if students hit him, he said, because that still did not meet the legal standard.
Every time he did restrain or seclude a child, it stayed with him long after. He said he often questioned whether it had been the right call, thought about how families would respond, and considered the lasting effects the practice might have on the student — and on himself.
“Anytime there was a hold, a restraint or a seclusion, you’re taking that home, and you’re thinking about that kid when you’re at home, trying to move on with your day,” he said. “I’m a pretty strong-willed person, but there are plenty of times I would quietly be in tears, or going home and having an extra glass of wine, because I’m just not processing it well in the aftermath.”
Other students in the classroom witnessing these incidents are also traumatized, Kavanaugh said.
“You see the terror on their classmates’ faces, and you feel bad for the kid in a certain way because this is going to hurt their relationships,” he said.
But talking to parents afterward would always make him feel better, Kavanaugh said, because parents of students with disabilities are often dealing with similar behavior challenges at home.
District response to a parental complaint
Emerson, the parent in Ellsworth, complained to the school board, Superintendent Amy Boles, and the Maine Department of Education in August 2024, alleging that staff members had not met the legal threshold for using restraint and seclusion so often on her son.
Boles wrote back in October, saying in cases where Emerson’s son was hitting, scratching, and kicking staff, “it is my conclusion that active behavior like this toward another person does create an ‘imminent danger’ that the other person could be sufficiently injured that he or she may need more than ‘routine first aid.’”
“The incident may not in fact have caused an injury requiring that level of care, but a reasonable and prudent person could reasonably conclude that this could occur,” Boles wrote in her letter, reviewed by Maine Morning Star.
But the investigation the district launched in response to Emerson’s complaint found that staff had improperly restrained and secluded her son in at least five of the 18 incidents to which his mother objected. Some incident reports were also vaguely written, Boles wrote, which was the case for the three-hour incident in October 2023 — making it difficult to determine whether restraints and seclusion were warranted.
Nonetheless, Boles concluded in her letter to Emerson that all staff need training on the proper use of restraint and seclusion, and she agreed the district should rely on the practice less often.
Boles declined to comment on the investigation or specific incidents, but said district staff have undergone an initial training with Lives in the Balance, and followup trainings are planned.
“Behavior is an issue across the board. I mean, it’s skyrocketing everywhere. It’s not just Ellsworth,” she said. “But we’re working really hard to try to be preventative before it gets to that extreme state, trying to teach staff day-to-day strategies to prevent the behavior before it escalates.”
Emerson said her son is still visibly shaken every time he passes by the school, or even when someone mentions the word “school” around him.
“His world has become so small since these events, he rarely leaves our home,” she said. “Everyone continues about their day, and yet I’m left to pick up the pieces.”
Maine Morning Star is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Maine Morning Star maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Lauren McCauley for questions: [email protected].
Higher education faces a pivotal moment as Generative AI becomes increasingly embedded within academic practice. While AI technologies offer the potential to personalize learning, streamline processes, and expand access, they also risk exacerbating existing inequalities if not intentionally aligned with inclusive values. Building on our QAA-funded project outputs, this blog outlines a strategic framework for deploying AI to foster inclusion, equity, and ethical responsibility in higher education.
The digital divide and GenAI
Extensive research shows that students from marginalized backgrounds often face barriers in accessing digital tools, digital literacy training, and peer networks essential for technological confidence. GenAI exacerbates this divide, demanding not only infrastructure (devices, subscriptions, internet access) but also critical AI literacy. According to previous research, students with higher AI competence outperform peers academically, deepening outcome disparities.
However, the challenge is not merely technological; it is social and structural. WP (Widening Participation) students often remain outside informal digital learning communities where GenAI tools are introduced and shared. Without intervention, GenAI risks becoming a “hidden curriculum” advantage for already-privileged groups.
A framework for inclusive GenAI adoption
Our QAA-funded “Framework for Educators” proposes five interrelated principles to guide ethical, inclusive AI integration:
Understanding and Awareness Foundational AI literacy must be prioritized. Awareness campaigns showcasing real-world inclusive uses of AI (eg Otter.ai for students with hearing impairments) and tiered learning tracks from beginner to advanced levels ensure all students can access, understand, and critically engage with GenAI tools.
Inclusive Collaboration GenAI should be used to foster diverse collaboration, not reinforce existing hierarchies. Tools like Miro and DeepL can support multilingual and neurodiverse team interactions, while AI-powered task management (eg Notion AI) ensures equitable participation. Embedding AI-driven teamwork protocols into coursework can normalize inclusive digital collaboration.
Access to Resources Infrastructure equity is critical. Universities must provide free or subsidized access to key AI tools (eg Grammarly, ReadSpeaker), establish Digital Accessibility Centers, and proactively support economically disadvantaged students.
Ethical Responsibility Critical AI literacy must include an ethical dimension. Courses on AI ethics, student-led policy drafting workshops, and institutional AI Ethics Committees empower students to engage responsibly with AI technologies.
Implementation strategies
To operationalize the framework, a phased implementation plan is recommended:
Phase 1: Needs assessment and foundational AI workshops (0–3 months).
Phase 2: Pilot inclusive collaboration models and adaptive learning environments (3–9 months).
Key success metrics include increased AI literacy rates, participation from underrepresented groups, enhanced group project equity, and demonstrated critical thinking skill growth.
Discussion: opportunities and risks
Without inclusive design, GenAI could deepen educational inequalities, as recent research warns. Students without access to GenAI resources or social capital will be disadvantaged both academically and professionally. Furthermore, impersonal AI-driven learning environments may weaken students’ sense of belonging, exacerbating mental health challenges.
Conversely, intentional GenAI integration offers powerful opportunities. AI can personalize support for students with diverse learning needs, extend access to remote or rural learners, and reduce administrative burdens on staff – freeing them to focus on high-impact, relational work such as mentoring.
Conclusion
The future of inclusive higher education depends on whether GenAI is adopted with a clear commitment to equity and social justice. As our QAA project outputs demonstrate, the challenge is not merely technological but ethical and pedagogical. Institutions must move beyond access alone, embedding critical AI literacy, equitable resource distribution, community-building, and ethical responsibility into every stage of AI adoption.
Generative AI will not close the digital divide on its own. It is our pedagogical choices, strategic designs, and values-driven implementations that will determine whether the AI-driven university of the future is one of exclusion – or transformation.
This blog is based on the recent outputs from our QAA-funded project entitled: “Using AI to promote education for sustainable development and widen access to digital skills”
Dr Eleni Meletiadou is an Associate Professor (Teaching) at London Metropolitan University specialising in Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (EDI), AI, inclusive digital pedagogy, and multilingual education. She leads the Education for Social Justice and Sustainable Learning and Development (RILEAS) and the Gender Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (GEDI) Research Groups. Dr Meletiadou’s work, recognised with the British Academy of Management Education Practice Award (2023), focuses on transforming higher education curricula to promote equitable access, sustainability, and wellbeing. With over 15 years of international experience across 35 countries, she has led numerous projects in inclusive assessment and AI-enhanced learning. She is a Principal Fellow of the Higher Education Academy and serves on several editorial boards. Her research interests include organisational change, intercultural communication, gender equity, and Education for Sustainable Development (ESD). She actively contributes to global efforts in making education more inclusive and future-ready. LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/dr-eleni-meletiadou/
LOS ANGELES — Scattered among the shrubs on the southern border lie belongings migrants left behind — toothbrushes, water bottles, baseball caps. Some of the owners forged north, crossing the boundary undetected. Others were apprehended or succumbed to dehydration, drowning or one of the unimaginable dangers in the harsh desert that straddles Mexico and the United States.
Angélica Reyes survived. At nine months old, she made the journey that could have claimed her life just as it started.
Since 1994, approximately 10,000 migrants have died in the borderlands. That year, the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) took effect. Designed to open trade between the United States, Canada and Mexico, the now-defunct policy has faced criticism for depressing Mexican wages. Their income flatlining, Reyes said, her parents left the city of Guadalajara, in the western part of Mexico, and headed with her to Los Angeles. They did not have authorization to live in the United States.
Reyes is now 32, though she remembers knowing she was undocumented as early as first grade.
“My mom was very cognizant of the discrimination and the obstacles that I would face throughout my life,” she said. “She made it clear, like, ‘You can’t mess up. You need to be twice as good to get half of the respect. You need to really prove that you earned your spot.’”
To do that, Reyes earned the good grades that set her up to become a history teacher for the Los Angeles Unified School District. She is one of about 15,000 teachers — and among the more than 835,000 undocumented people — who have received temporary permission to live, work and study in the United States through an Obama-era program known as Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). Women represent over half of DACA recipients, whose future in this country has been under threat by legal challenges to the program’s existence and the anti-immigration agenda of President Donald Trump.
https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/nA5Cv/10/
If DACA ends, the goal of ongoing litigation, 700 education personnel, including teachers and teacher aides, would lose their jobs each month for two years as their work permits are revoked, according to FWD.us, an immigration reform organization. In California, the state with the most DACA recipients, 200 educators would lose their jobs monthly. In Texas, 100 would.
DACA-recipient teachers relate firsthand to the estimated 620,000 undocumented K-1 2 students, who confide in them about their experiences in immigrant families. They show youth that regardless of legal status, it’s possible to attain one’s professional goals. Many of these teachers are also activists, fighting for their students, themselves and other marginalized people. They see themselves as assets to schools.
“My immigration status inspires both my undocumented and documented students because they know all the obstacles that are faced by folks with my immigration status can be overcome,” Reyes said. “They know that if I could do it, that’s something that they could do as well.”
Without undocumented teachers, educator shortages across states could worsen. California has spent about $1.6 billion since the 2016-17 school year to tackle its teacher shortage. Still, the state issued 11 percent fewer teaching credentials between the 2021-22 and 2022-23 school years. Last year, it enacted legislation to eliminate barriers to entry, dropping a standardized test teaching candidates had to pass to demonstrate competence in math, reading and writing. But since undocumented immigrants aren’t widely perceived to be career professionals, the fact that schoolchildren nationwide depend on them has received scant attention in the broader immigration debate.
Maria Miranda, elementary vice president of the United Teachers Los Angeles (UTLA) labor union, said undocumented teachers “bring a different perspective to the table, a different skill set.”
Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers, the nation’s second largest teacher labor union, said DACA recipients in classrooms have strengthened the United States.
“They are role models, like all teachers, and should be treated as such, but instead, they are made to feel uncertain and fearful as their protections are challenged in court and as the Trump administration promotes mass deportations, even from sensitive locations like schools that were once considered off limits,” Weingarten said. “Immigration reform can’t be used as an excuse to rip teachers out of classrooms, where they are so desperately needed.”
Reyes at 1 year old with her father. (Angelica Reyes)
When Reyes was about to register for the SAT during her senior year in high school, one misinformed guidance counselor asked her why she planned to take the college entrance exam, insisting that higher education was off limits to undocumented students.
“I was devastated. It broke my heart,” Reyes said. “I remember crying and telling my mom, ‘I worked hard, for what?’”
Since 2001, however, California has extended access to in-state college tuition to undocumented students who have lived there long term. Unaware of this law and under the assumption that her counselor was correct, Reyes missed the deadline for the SAT and for the application to University of California schools, so she enrolled in a community college she could afford, a common path for many undocumented immigrants.
Then, in 2011, a state law was enacted that made her cry tears of gratitude: the California DREAM Act. The policy allows undocumented immigrants who entered the United States before they were 16 to obtain financial aid if they’ve earned qualifying credits at California schools. These young people have been nicknamed Dreamers after the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors (DREAM) Act, a 2001 federal bill that would have given them legal status had it succeeded.
Reyes said that when she decided to apply to the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), a community college counselor took in her light brown skin and wavy black mane and without so much as seeing the 4.0 GPA in her transcript, told her to apply somewhere less competitive.
“I’m a competitive student!” Reyes recalled balking. “She opened my chart and she was, like, ‘Oh, you actually are.’ Her tune changed so quickly. It was really infuriating because if I had believed her, like many students believe counselors, I would have not gone to UCLA.”
In college, Reyes had to make a choice about her career path. Her research project on youth activism at Abraham Lincoln High School, where she graduated in 2010, had drawn her to education. “I realized that’s where I was needed,” she said.
It was at Lincoln High in March 1968 that students spearheaded the protests known as the Chicano Blowouts or East Los Angeles Walkouts. With signs stating “School Not Prison” and “We Are Not Dirty Mexicans,” almost 15,000 youth from Lincoln and other schools in historically Mexican-American East L.A. walked out of classes for a week to protest their substandard education.
Chicano student walkouts in front of Abraham Lincoln High School in East Los Angeles during the 1968 blowouts. (LAPL)
Back then, students could be paddled for speaking Spanish, and with few advanced courses at Eastside schools, they were routinely steered to vocational classes like auto shop. These inequities contributed to a 60 percent dropout rate in the area. Jailed for their activism against these circumstances, the teenagers garnered community support that ushered in sweeping policy changes — bilingual instruction, ethnic studies and more Latino teachers.
Today, the carnicerías, bungalow homes and palm trees along North Broadway Avenue, leading to 93 acres of green hills, offer no hint of the past tumult, but a mural at Lincoln commemorates the walkouts of nearly six decades ago.
Through her research, which also explored youth activism of the 2010s, Reyes learned that contemporary Lincoln High students continued to have unmet needs, such as support applying for college financial aid or accessing legal services as members of immigrant households. So when Lincoln High teachers asked if she wanted to develop a space to serve students, Reyes threw herself into the effort. The Paula Crisostomo Dream Center — named after a lead activist of the Chicano Blowouts and the inspiration for the 2006 film “Walkout” — opened at Lincoln in 2015.
“We established programming for immigrant students, for immigrant parents. We did immigrant and educational history,” Reyes said. “It’s still a resource for students at Lincoln, and we’ve expanded it to several other schools.”
Working at the Dream Center for three years convinced her that teaching was the best way to reach undocumented and marginalized youth. Rather than dismiss them, as she had been dismissed by school counselors, she would inspire students to excel academically regardless of legal status. In 2012, four years before she graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s degree in sociology and six years before she earned her master’s in education from the university, DACA enabled undocumented students like herself to become career professionals.
Reyes surrounded by family at her high school graduation. (Angelica Reyes)
It’s complicated: Those two words capture Reyes’ feelings about DACA. Although the program allowed her to teach, she has long viewed it as flawed, exploitative and a “constant reminder” she isn’t “fully accepted.”
DACA stems from the activism of undocumented college students frustrated that the DREAM Act failed and that their immigration status would limit their potential, said Jennifer R. Nájera, author of “Learning to Lead: Undocumented Students Mobilizing Education.” Fighting for immigrant rights, they found a purpose.
Like the DREAM Act, DACA was reserved for young people who came to the United States as children and didn’t have criminal histories. “They had to graduate from high school or college or go to the military, show ‘good moral character,’” said Nájera, an associate professor in the Department of Ethnic Studies at the University of California, Riverside. Instead of citizenship, Obama’s executive order “provided temporary relief from deportation, a two-year relief specifically, that could be renewed, and a work permit, which was a big deal.”
While DACA recipients cherished their professional opportunities, some contended that the policy cast them as second-class citizens, Nájera said.
That includes Reyes.
“I knew it was a Band-Aid,” she said. “In fact, when I first started teaching, my DACA expired because of an issue with the application. They had asked me if I was in a gang, and apparently I didn’t check off the X hard enough, so I wasn’t hired at the beginning of the year. I remember feeling this immense frustration.”
Los Angeles Unified employs about 300 DACA-recipient school personnel, according to Miranda of the UTLA labor union. As Reyes’ teaching career started, DACA weathered the first of multiple legal challenges. Trump rescinded the program during his first term, a move the Supreme Court later blocked; at the time, Reyes told her students about possibly losing her job. Since then, she has endured several other threats to DACA , though she’s now pained to tell her students that the program isn’t accepting new applicants.
DACA, she said, must be replaced with a sustainable alternative.
In a December interview, Trump said, “We’re going to have to do something with” DACA recipients. “They were brought into this country many years ago” and “in many cases, they’ve become successful.”
But that sympathy has been absent from his immigration policies since he resumed office. He has issued an executive order prohibiting undocumented college students from receiving in-state tuition. He has also lifted restrictions on immigration enforcement in “sensitive locations” such as churches, hospitals and schools, prompting parents nationwide to keep kids out of class.
A protester waves the Mexican flag during a demonstration for immigration rights outside Los Angeles City Hall on February 5, 2025. (Qian Weizhong/Getty Images)
“A lot of times, the children are U.S. citizens and the parents are concerned,” Reyes said. “But I’ve had students who shared that their parents are U.S. citizens, and they’re still scared because they know that U.S. citizens are also caught up in these raids. So, this isn’t about criminality. It’s about the targeting of Brown folks.”
Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents and other federal authorities reportedly detained or deported at least 10 U.S. citizens, including children, in the first 100 days of Trump’s second term.
Last month, the California state superintendent presented Senate Bill 48 to limit ICE appearances at schools as absences have spiked — and schools could lose millions of dollars since their funding is tied to average daily student attendance. About half of California children belong to families that include at least one immigrant parent, while one in five live in mixed-status families with at least one undocumented parent.
“It’s very taxing emotionally for our members and our students,” Miranda said of ICE enforcement. “We have students at the elementary level who are terrified of seeing anyone in uniform. Some of them are so young that they don’t know the difference between the police and immigration. It’s a very scary moment.”
When Trump targeted DACA during his first term, Reyes warned in a Los Angeles Times opinion piece that disbanding the program could upend public education. But now she says her students deserve more than DACA’s “breadcrumbs.”
“We need to fight for something new because my kids want to be chefs and doctors and lawyers, but they’re being held back by their immigration status,” she said. “It’s excruciating in two ways: One, I want my students to have the opportunities that they deserve to serve the community. And, two, I don’t know when I’m going to be taken from them because of my own uncertainty.”
For now, she knows that her presence makes a difference at her high school. Los Angeles Unified has an immigrant student body of about 30,000 students, according to UTLA. Of those, one in four is undocumented. After Reyes shared her immigration status with students during a recent lunchtime conversation, she said a ninth grader confessed that she planned to quit school because she, too, is undocumented. Learning Reyes managed to become a teacher made the girl reconsider.
“It was really beautiful to see that, like it reignited her hope to have a bright future,” Reyes said.
Although the risks of revealing her status frighten her, her conscience compels her to, Reyes said. She quoted Mexican Revolution leader Emiliano Zapata: “It’s better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.”
Staying silent as the president attacks immigrants would make it hard for Reyes to face the youth in her life — her son, especially.
Reyes after receiving her master’s degree in education from UCLA. (Angelica Reyes)
Whenever a state turned red on Election Night, Nathan Reyes felt his anxiety shoot up. Still, he held out hope Kamala Harris would win. Then the Electoral College math made it plain: Donald Trump would be president again.
Although he’s a U.S. citizen, Nathan wondered what lay ahead for his undocumented relatives under a president promising mass deportations.
“I feel worried for them because if they get deported, what am I going to do?” he asked. “Where am I going to stay?”
So, he began to plan. He and his family would “have to pick our poison” — stay in a country hostile to their presence or self-deport together to Mexico regardless of citizenship status.
That her son, with a pile of ringlets and a round cherubic face, was even considering these options stunned Reyes. Nathan is in seventh grade.
“I was like, ‘Oh, my God, this kid is 12,’” Angélica Reyes said. “Why is he talking about this?’”
Rummaging through a bin of childhood possessions in her mother’s bedroom last year, Reyes found a poem she wrote in fourth grade about her fear of police. Her parents were street food vendors, an occupation California criminalized until 2018, so Reyes realized growing up that one brush with the law could have seen them deported.
Just as she did not have a childhood free of deportation fears, neither has her son.
Nathan, now 13, is hardly the only youth pondering the possibility of a relative’s departure, according to Lisette Sanchez, a psychologist in Long Beach, California. She said children are leaving school with “Know Your Rights” cards advising them of their civil liberties during ICE encounters, but they may not understand the information.
“They’re just feeling fear,” she said. “They’re being told something’s gonna happen. So mental health wise, you’re looking at chronic anxiety. You’re looking at hypervigilance.”
Angélica Reyes and her son Nathan Reyes in front of Abraham Lincoln High School in East Los Angeles, California, on February 9, 2025. (Zaydee Sanchez/The 19th)
To gain some sense of control, they may overconsume social media, leading to racing thoughts, rapid heart rate and sleeping difficulties.
“It’s this chronic nonstop anxiety because the state of uncertainty feels never-ending, and in many ways, it is not ending, right?” Sanchez said. “There’s different news every day.”
By speaking openly with children, parents can help them better manage stress, she said. Teachers, if they’re permitted, can broach the topic of immigration. Nathan appreciated how his Spanish teacher led a class discussion after the election.
“Sharing your feelings and emotions and finding that a lot of other people are feeling very similar can bring comfort to you,” he said.
Reyes gave birth to her son while she was in college and briefly wed to his father. She applied for legal status as an immediate family member of a U.S. citizen, her spouse. But years passed before the federal government responded to her request, she said. By then, her marriage had ended.
“I don’t think people understand how long the path to citizenship can be, what it looks like, how costly and time-intensive it is,” Sanchez said.
Reyes, who has not remarried, said being undocumented seeps into every aspect of her life, including romantic relationships. She feels obligated to tell prospective partners about her status.
“I remember to always be upfront, like, ‘Hey, I’m undocumented. I don’t want you to think I’m going to use you for papers,’” she said.
Reyes lives in one of the country’s 4.7 million mixed-status households, which include undocumented individuals and people with legal status or U.S. citizenship. If she gets deported, she has arranged for others to care for her son.
Her sister, two years younger, is a U.S. citizen. Asked if she resents that twist of fate, Reyes said, “I’m happy that she gets to be safe. I think that there’s a lot of pain and guilt for her.”
Her sister realizes, Reyes said, that her entire family could be taken away.
Reyes and her son Nathan doing a science experiment when he was little. (Angelica Reyes)
Should she be forced out of the only country she considers home, Reyes wants her son to know this: “I would never willingly leave you. I am dedicated to you. I love you, and I will always be working as hard as possible to get back to you.”
For Nathan, it is mind-boggling that anyone would want his mother out. He doesn’t understand why politicians demonize immigrants. Trump launched his first presidential campaign calling them criminals and continues to malign them.
“My mom has done a lot of good for her community,” Nathan said. “She has organized a finders keepers closet where people who don’t have some resources they need, like canned food or clothes, can take what they need.”
Just as Nathan defends her honor, Reyes vouches for her parents. Her mother is now a nail technician and her father is a food vendor. Growing up, she said, she watched them visit the sick, volunteer at churches and fundraise for the poor.
“Whenever they saw a need, they stepped up, and they didn’t wait for someone else to help,” she said.
She’s hurt when people sympathize with Dreamers while disparaging their parents, that the immigration system paints family members as saints or sinners. The DACA recipients she’s researched feel similarly, Nájera said.
“Many of the students that I interviewed were always talking about their parents,” Nájera said. “They did not want their stories to be divorced from their parents and their family stories. These families, they’re units.”
But the Dream Act caused a migrant generational divide, insinuating that those who arrived in this country as children deserve citizenship, while their parents and others who arrived as adults do not, Nájera said.
Angélica Reyes helped paint the red and yellow skulls on the mural across the street from Abraham Lincoln High School in East Los Angeles, where she graduated. (Zaydee Sanchez/The 19th)
Migration often occurs out of necessity. For example, after NAFTA took effect in 1994, U.S. agricultural exports flooded Mexico, displacing workers, according to Edward Alden, a distinguished visiting professor in the College of Business and Economics at Western Washington University. Four years earlier, over 4 million Mexican migrants were in the United States, a figure that ballooned to nearly 13 million — around 9 percent of Mexico’s population — by 2008.
Reyes said NAFTA crushed the bakery business her father’s side of the family owned because it could not compete with the U.S. companies that swooped in. Her parents migrated north to earn higher wages.
Today, economic instability is but one of the reasons that motivate migrants.
“A lot of the Venezuelans are leaving Venezuela because it’s a violent, dangerous place, and the government has destroyed the economy in different ways,” Alden said. “Same thing out of Central America. These are people who aren’t necessarily leaving for economic reasons. They’re doing it for personal safety reasons.”
Reyes said she has Central American students who fled horrors. She wants them to feel safe in the United States, and the fact Los Angeles Unified has pledged not to cooperate with immigration officials voluntarily provides some comfort. Run by a formerly undocumented superintendent, the sanctuary districtblocked Homeland Security agents from entering two schools in April.
The fear of raids on campuses has traumatized her students, Reyes said. “It’s so difficult to convince my students that they are worthy of love and that they’re worthy of respect and that they deserve civil rights.”
It is equally difficult to keep advocating for herself, she said. But as the threat of deportation looms, she has no choice but to keep fighting.
“It’s hard to know that I can’t earn citizenship and that I can’t give my kid stability or safety,” she said. “I feel like if I could earn it, I would have three citizenships. I would have put in the work.”
