Why Fear of ICE Is Keeping Children Out of Connecticut Schools

In New Haven, where one out of every six residents comes from another country, a deep-seated fear is emptying desks in the city’s schools. The constant threat of immigration enforcement isn’t some distant political debate—it’s a daily reality that’s actively preventing kids from getting an education. For many students, the anxiety has become so overwhelming that just leaving the house to go to school feels like an act of bravery.

### "They took her, they took her."

The words came out in sobs, but Cora Muñoz, the assistant principal at Wilbur Cross High School, knew exactly what they meant. An ICE raid had just ripped another student from their community. It wasn't the first time, and the fear it leaves behind is something you can feel in the hallways.

This climate of anxiety has real, measurable consequences. Between the fall of 2024 and 2025, Connecticut’s enrollment of English language learners dropped by over 2,000 students—a nearly 3.8% decline. The numbers were even worse in New Haven, which saw a 7.3% decrease. Families who were expected to return for the school year just disappeared. For those who are still here, fear is a constant companion. Students say their families have warned them not to stay for after-school clubs or attend early college programs, terrified that immigration agents might be waiting.

"I live with fear," says Darwin, an 18-year-old from Guatemala who has been in New Haven for two years. "Sometimes I don’t even want to attend school because it makes me afraid to go out of the house."

He’s not alone. Teachers see a growing hopelessness among immigrant students. After a friend or classmate is detained, they become quiet and withdrawn, left to wonder if they’re next.

### How Schools Are Drawing a Line in the Sand

In the face of the second Trump administration's mass deportation campaign and the reversal of policies that once limited ICE’s access to schools, New Haven's education leaders are pushing back. Superintendent Madeline Negrón led the charge to create a clear, district-wide policy for handling ICE agents. The rule is simple: no agent gets inside without a valid judicial warrant that has been checked by the district's lawyers.

"My obligation is to keep every single one of my children safe," Negrón says.

This isn't just a policy on paper. All 2,900 district employees, from custodians and secretaries to teachers, have been trained on what to do. Schools have also started hosting "know-your-rights" sessions for students and their families.

"I wish that no kid in New Haven needed to know that," says social studies teacher Ben Scudder, talking about the difference between a judicial and an administrative warrant. "But we live in a world where they do... so we’re gonna make sure that they get the training they need."

These efforts are built on long-standing relationships with immigrant-serving organizations, which have created a safety net that provides everything from legal help to food for families in crisis. When a parent or child is detained, school staff write letters, raise money, and stand with advocates to bring them home. As Muñoz says, "In these moments where it’s hard, you show up and you do what you can."

### The Trauma That Hits Close to Home

Even with schools doing everything they can, the threat is always there right outside their doors. This past June, an 8-year-old boy and a 13-year-old girl cried as they watched men in ski masks surround their car and handcuff their mother. A month later, she was deported to Mexico. Now, the younger child, a student at Roberto Clemente Leadership Academy, sees his mother's captors in every uniform he passes.

"He’s not able to understand what happened," his principal, Adela Jorge, explains. "All he knows is that his mother was taken."

Wilbur Cross High School has been hit especially hard. First, an 18-year-old student named Esdrás was arrested at his summer job. He was shuffled between detention centers and came dangerously close to being put on a deportation flight to Guatemala. After a month of frantic work by a coalition of teachers, lawyers, and officials, he was finally released. When he came back to school, all he wanted was to feel normal again.

Not long after, another student went missing. Her friend, 17-year-old Melany, was terrified when she suddenly stopped answering her messages. "When she didn’t come to school, it really scared me," she remembers. That student was also eventually freed, but the cycle of fear just keeps repeating.

"They’re our kids, and they’re being detained in these cages," says Matt Brown, the principal at Wilbur Cross. "And the day before, they were eating pizza in our cafeteria."

### Why Bother Dreaming?

This constant stress is chipping away at students' hope for the future. Fatima Nouchkioui, an English as a Second Language teacher, has noticed "a lot more sadness." She sees good students who suddenly start skipping class because they’re just too emotionally exhausted to show up. But the impact goes beyond just attendance.

Tabitha Sookdeo, from the organization Connecticut Students for a Dream, has seen fewer students participating in college access programs. They're asking a devastatingly practical question: why should I work toward a degree if I could be deported tomorrow?

"You’re sitting next to them," Sookdeo says of the high schoolers, "and they’re literally shaking."

For many of these students, the pressure is almost unbearable. Some, like Darwin, live on their own, working to support their families back home while trying to finish their education. The looming threat of another arrest is a heavy weight on their already difficult lives.

"Do we anticipate having kids detained again?" Principal Brown asks. "I haven’t seen anything that would make me think we shouldn’t."