The Trauma Immigration Raids Leave in Classrooms

In January 2025, during the middle of a school day in Texas, a mother waited anxiously outside an elementary school for her fifth-grade son. He didn’t walk out with the rest of the class.

“She panicked,” says Maricruz Martínez, a second-grade teacher at Vestal Elementary School in San Antonio. “She was so upset, asking: ‘Where is he? Who took him? Why is he not here?’ You could tell where her mind was going.”

Where did her son go? The child had simply stopped at the restroom.

But in a climate where elected officials are choosing fear, families and communities pay the price immigration raids, abductions, disappearing people, and deportations have on them; and the absence of a child—even for a few minutes—can feel like a nightmare come true. 

These assaults are becoming more common across the country, as students and educators try to navigate a climate of fear that is fueled by federal forced removals that tear families apart and aggressive enforcement tactics—some of which have been deemed illegal. In many communities, the mere rumor of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) presence is enough to keep children from school and inflict long-standing academic and emotional harm on students.

“All students deserve to … [know] they belong, are welcomed, and feel safe in our public schools—no matter the language they speak or their ZIP code.  No one, not Trump or ICE, should have the power to weaponize our government against our most vulnerable,” says Noel Candelaria, a special education teacher from Texas and NEA secretary-treasurer. “They have abducted our students, separated our families, and terrorized communities. In the face of these assaults, we are inspired by the daily actions of courage and bravery by students, educators, and allies rejecting violence, protecting students, and exercising their right to speak out. We stand with them.”

What the Experts Say

Trump and his administration are creating the current immigration enforcement practices that are leading to fear and uncertainty, significant stress, anxiety, and even trauma for children, says Allison Bassett Ratto, a child clinical psychologist in Washington, D.C.

She explains that rather than witnessing police officers apprehending violent criminals, children often see loved ones—family, friends, neighbors—being detained during everyday routines. 

“What they see are their classmates, their family members, their neighbors often being apprehended in violent and confusing ways while … doing things like picking up their children from the bus stop or going to their jobs, and this, for children, creates a sense that nowhere and no one is safe.”

She adds: “What is particularly worrisome to me as a child psychologist is that the stress, the anxiety and the trauma that develop in this climate of fear and uncertainty around immigration enforcement can become chronic, leading to both immediate and long term damage to children’s mental and physical health.”

Underscoring this point is a July 2025 report from the University of California (UC), Riverside, which confirms what many educators already know: “Even the threat of separation can generate profound emotional harm” for children of immigrant families, this can include anxiety, depression, and behavioral problems. Additionally, the constant fear that a parent or child might disappear can lead to school absenteeism, academic disengagement, and heightened emotional stress.

A Classroom Without Closure

William, a U.S. history teacher in Michigan, teaches immigrant and refugee multilingual language learners from Central America, East Africa, and Afghanistan. He asked that his last name and school remain confidential.

“Some students stopped coming to school entirely or transferred to different schools in other parts of the country,” he says. “Other students … decided to move back to their home countries because they didn't feel particularly safe.”

One day, a student is present and engaged in class. The next, their seat is empty with no explanation and many lingering questions. 

“Our school has a lot of movement. People … join us throughout the school year but also leave. With the Trump administration, it’s been scary,” says William, explaining that when a student disappears from one day to the next it’s “anxiety inducing.” 

“Sometimes we would find out they moved, or they transferred to another school. Sometimes the other students would know [or] … not know. Maybe they didn't have a chance to say goodbye to the student, or they weren't close to the students, or they didn't know what had happened to them,” he shares. “For me, it’s felt like there was a lot left unfinished.”

For those left behind when a parent disappears, the psychological toll is often just as severe. 

UC Riverside researchers highlight in their findings that young children who experience the sudden loss of a caregiver, from detention or deportation, often show signs of disrupted sleep and appetite, emotional instability, and developmental setbacks. For older students, these separations are linked to increased risk of suicidal thoughts, substance use, and behavioral issues. 

When Educators Protect, Students Feel Safe 

Educators note that schools can serve as a refuge, but only when strong policies are in place to protect immigrant families. Without those protections, fear follows families through school doors.

Martínez has seen families disappear. Others have self-deported.

“One family moved to Mexico with no notice,” she says. “When they got there, it was hard. Their kids didn’t speak Spanish [and] … were struggling, and even the family was struggling from the life they were used to living in Minnesota. So, they decided to move to San Antonio.” 

Though the family enrolled in her school, the damage had already been done.

“The youngest boy … his mom said … had really withdrawn … was very quiet,” says Martínez. “Mom said he wasn’t like that before. [I would see how] he started to shine and then he dulled his shine … trying to blend into the wall, and that’s sad.”

Even families that stay often do so in fear. “I’ve witnessed parents in the morning, … dropping off their kids with tears. You can see they were scared, telling their babies: ‘Don’t go with any strangers,’” she says.  “It's hard when you see … the family suffering [and] living with that fear.”

A Culture of Silence and Survival

Agustín Loredo, a longtime teacher and head soccer and cross country coach in Baytown, Texas, recalls a student who told him quietly one day, “I live with my dad’s friend. I just put him down as an uncle.” His father had been deported. His mother was in Honduras. The student was working full-time while trying to stay in school.

But toward the end of the 2024-2025 school year, the student stopped coming. 

“It broke my heart, but I also understand. This kid has to eat,” Loredo says.

Stories like this aren’t exceptional. 

When Fear Enters the Classroom

The effect of immigration raids stretches into every corner of the classroom. 

According to many educators, attendance plummets, students withdraw emotionally, and entire families disappear overnight. The sharp rise in student absences and family fears has been driven by the Department of Homeland Security’s decision to rescind the Sensitive Locations memo, which once discouraged immigration raids in schools, churches, and hospitals. 

In Arizona, one educator reported to NEA that their school experienced a “near 50% absence rate one day because of a random rumor that ICE showed up to a local elementary school.” 

An educator in Michigan shared how one of her 7th grade students didn't show up to school for three weeks. “When he returned, and I asked him what happened, he said his mother was scared to send him to school since ICE is rounding up Indigenous people,” she told NEA. “Since then, he has only returned to school one or two days a week. I am worried about him, and his grades and education are suffering as a result of all this.”

In North Carolina, one educator reported that a friend’s school had no protocol in place when a student’s parents were taken by ICE. “The next of kin was an older sister, but the school didn’t have permission to send the child with the sister. The sister had to contact a lawyer,” the educator shared with NEA.

Another educator in Pennsylvania noted: “One student is very anxious that her mother will be taken while she is at school. She is afraid she will go home, and no one will be there.”

“I teach ESL students, almost all of whom are immigrants or refugees,” William says. “My students are afraid to come to school. Several have had parents deported. Many of my students don’t understand the hate and nativism that is being directed at them.”

The Weight of Uncertainty

To those outside immigrant communities, the fear may seem abstract. But to students and their families, it’s overwhelmingly real.

“Kids are coming to school with red eyes as they are home with overly stressed parents and all not getting enough sleep,” one Wisconsin educator shared with NEA.

Others reported lockdowns due to nearby ICE activity, terrified children clutching their passport cards, and kindergartners asking teachers, “Are they coming to take us away?”

Loredo, who teaches high school Spanish and Mexican American topics, underscores the hypocrisy in immigration attitudes: Welcoming immigrant labor while denying immigrant dignity, safety, and joy.

“It’s OK for them to work but not Ok for them to enjoy life here,” he says. “I think the problem is [industries] want cheap labor, and they want cheap labor that's scared.”

Educators Stand With Students and Families

Educators have responded with Red Cards to assert constitutional rights, Know Your Rights trainings, and reassurances from educators that they will continue to support immigrant families.

“Our district … [told] everybody we needed to stay out of it,” Martínez says. “But we didn’t. We made sure to share the Red Cards with all of our members and families.”

Loredo’s work with various community centers have helped to support students and their families with legal help and grassroots advocacy. He has helped host “Know Your Rights” trainings for educators, students, and families. “We had about 20 to 30 people at one event,” he says.

But even in places with no direct raids, the stress and fear remain.

“As educators, we talk and share concerns,” Martínez says. “It’s hard enough teaching...and then on top of that, we’re worried about being safe, feeling that students are safe, and that parents are able to leave their children with us in a safe environment. But we’re here for them, and we’re here to help [their children] learn and grow.”

Hope Through Action

Across the country, parents, educators, and community members are organizing and stepping up in record numbers to make sure immigrant families feel supported. Their goal is to strengthen communities through care, mutual aid, and advocacy.

“You always got to have hope,” William says. “If you don’t have hope, then what you’re doing is probably meaningless. So of course, I have hope that things will get better.”