Safely navigating school while being an undocumented immigrant student

As the start of the school year approaches, questions remain on how educators can best support the increasing number of newcomers and immigrant students in K-12 schools. When this issue is framed with words like “wave,” schools often respond with approaches that are reactive and short-term. All of our students, regardless of their immigration status, deserve access to an education that allows them to realize their fullest potential and aspirations.

Viridiana Carrizales is the co-founder and CEO of ImmSchools, a non-profit organization that supports teachers and school staff in creating positive school cultures and climate for all students, parents and caregivers, regardless of their immigration status. New York Nonprofit Media caught up with Carrizales to talk about her own experiences as an immigrant student, advocacy and work with this vulnerable school population. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

When was the moment, or period in your life, when you first started thinking of yourself as an activist? 

It wasn't until later in life when I fully understood what activism really means. For me, it has come up during those moments when you are confronted with injustice and want to do something about it. When I was a high school senior, getting ready to apply for college, I wanted to make sure I was doing everything right, as one of the 1st people in my family to go to college. When I went to the guidance office, the counselor told me I needed a social security number. I had no idea what it meant for me because I didn't have one and he wasn’t sure what my options were. I remember him saying “Viri, we are going to figure this out, you are a great student, you have to go to college!” At that moment, he thought the best option was to call immigration to see how they could give me a social security number. I still remember the fear I felt when the person on the other side of the phone started asking me questions about my family. In my gut, I knew this could not be good. I said I would get more information and come back. I never did. 

This was a defining moment for me. I felt my humanity was reduced to a piece of paper that I didn't have and it felt so unjust. I refused to believe there was nothing I could do and started leaning more on my own community rather than the school system. I reached out to a Spanish newspaper in Dallas and asked them to publish my story.

About a month later, I got an email from a student in college who was undocumented. She said, “Hey, I read your story, I want to tell you how you can go to college.” This stranger was the reason why I went to college. She told me what the path was and what my rights were.

When I learned how the admissions process worked for undocumented students, I wanted others to know this information. The following week, I made an announcement at my church inviting students to meet with me to learn about their rights to go to college. There were probably 15 other students who were in the process, so we came together to support each other. From there, once I was in college, I started getting connected with other undocumented students – this was in 2007, when a version of the DREAM Act was in play. We drove to DC so senators could hear from us, see us as real people they were impacting. I went into federal buildings – without having a status – and talked about our story with senators. When the DREAM Act went up for vote, I was sitting in my dorm room, counting the votes as they came in… I remember how we came short, turned off the TV, went back to class, and had to continue on with the knowledge that people who don't know about us were making decisions that impacted our lives so profoundly. I knew as undocumented students we had to do something about it. This is when I began to think about myself as an activist.

While the DREAM Act has failed to pass, I’m proud to have been part of the students who organized and pushed for DACA to become a reality. I feel proud of that. Those early experiences helped me transform my fear, understand the power of my voice and my story to make change – in my own life, in the lives of others, and ultimately in influencing policy for all of us.

This is such an amazing example of youth journalism as well as activism! From where did you draw the strength, purpose or inspiration to set out on this path?

I risked my life to be in this country. My sister, my mother and I walked for hours through the Arizona desert to be here. Now that I’m a mother, I think about the love we have for our kids and how we will do anything in the world to provide them with the best life possible. It is part of who we are as people. In Mexico, I was only going to have access to an elementary education and my mother wanted more for us. It was her dreams of us succeeding in life that gave us the courage and strength to walk through that desert. I still remember the warmth of her hand holding mine. That is what sustains me. 

Once you experience injustice directly, you cannot shake the feeling away. We are in the best position to make decisions about our community because we have been there and know what it’s like, how it feels. I didn’t want other students to experience the fear I did when my guidance counselor put me on the phone with an immigration agent or the disappointment I felt when I thought my dreams of going to college might not be possible because of my status. These injustices fueled me, it has given me the strength to do something about it. 

During your earlier years of activism, you yourself did not have legal status (were undocumented), which must have required so much courage. How did that experience inform or shape your leadership and approach for the future? 

When I graduated college in 2010, there was no pathway for me to adjust my status. I felt proud and also defeated. I questioned how multiple truths could be possible. How I could hold joy and pride for being the first one in my family to graduate from college while also feeling ashamed and heartbroken for not being able to put my brilliance into practice. For almost three years, my degrees hung on the wall, collecting dust. In 2013, more than 14 years after crossing the desert, I had the opportunity to adjust my status through my spouse. My hands were shaking as I opened the envelope with my new social security card in it. I remember holding it and thinking, “This is my first opportunity to work on something that I care about.” Through all the hardships I encountered as an undocumented student, I stayed focused and knew that education was the key to succeed and thrive in this country. So I knew I wanted to work in education because no other student should experience the injustices I experienced. I went to work at Teach For America and became the founding director of DACA Corps Member Support where I had the honor to support 240 DACAmented teachers. Many of whom were recognized by the White House as Champions of Change in 2015.  

While immigration has been a central issue for millions of students who are part of mixed-status families, immigration didn’t rise as a national issue until the 2016 elections. Teachers began to reach out asking “what should we do? How do we support our immigrant students? I realized there was an opportunity for me to do more for this community. I knew I was part of the solution. That’s how and why ImmSchools came to be -- to ensure that all students have access to schools that are safe, welcoming and inclusive, no matter their immigration status.  For the last 6 years, we have partnered with schools and school districts across the nation, to provide the entire school community – including students, families, educators, and school leaders –  with tailored, comprehensive programs to build safe and welcoming environments for all students regardless of their immigration status. In the last 6 years, over 31,000 students, families, and educators have participated in our programs across New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania and Texas. More than 320,000 students are being supported by educators who have attended our programs. 

I’m proud of all the work we have done, and hopeful for what is to come.

What are some of the challenges that undocumented students face in New York City schools?

Just last week I had a conversation with an undocumented student whose college counselor in Queens told her that she cannot go to college. Students are still getting misinformation. That is not true here. In New York, you can be undocumented and have access to a college education.

There is also a misconception that immigration today (of refugees, asylees, other newcomers) is something new and temporary. The reality is that immigration has always been part of our country’s history. According to a recent report by fwd.us, approximately 4.5 million, of all K-12 students – undocumented and U.S. citizen – have an undocumented parent, with New York comprising 7% of  K-12 students in the state. Despite the ongoing increase of immigrant and newcomer students enrolling in New York City schools, teachers continue to be misinformed and unprepared. I believe that supporting our immigrant students should not be an afterthought, or a rushed, reactive patchwork project, but rather a systemic, whole-hearted long-term solution allowing our families and their children to thrive in the K 12 system and beyond. 

Could you describe the work that your organization currently does in New York City schools?

It’s important for me to first share how our programs are informed, designed, and facilitated by current and former undocumented teachers, students and parents, elevating our leadership as true experts. We see ourselves as translators, helping teachers connect our immigrant experiences into effective, intentional and research-based practices that foster belonging in schools. 

Our approach focuses on three key areas: professional development for educators, empowerment and agency for parents and students, and policy and advocacy. For the last 5 years, we have partnered with the Department of Education to provide sessions for teachers equipping them with the knowledge and resources to holistically support their immigrants and multilingual students and have led workshops on topics like “Know Your Rights,” college access, and mental health for immigrant students and their families. To date, more than 10,500 teachers, immigrant students and families have been part of our programs in New York City. 

Can you give some concrete examples of the policies, practices or resources that make a difference? 

Practices for fostering a sense of belonging in our schools include:

• Ensure all teachers and school staff are trained on ways to effectively support and foster a culture of belonging for immigrant and multilingual students.
• Show school-wide alliance and support for the immigrant community through visual posters that encourage a sense of welcome and belonging, using inclusive and uplifting language when talking about immigrants.
• Assist students in gaining agency by using a curriculum that is accessible, rigorous and holds immigrant students to high academic expectations. This includes using “Culturally Responsive” curriculum and translanguaging strategies that integrate immigrant experiences, language and content during classroom instruction.

Practices for expanding access to resources include: 

• Connect with local CBOs supporting immigrant community and advocate for CBO partnership and school partnership to school leaders.
• Share resources and information to immigrant students in a culturally and linguistically responsive way. Also confirm that resources you are sharing are open to all students and families regardless of immigration status.
• Share information from local and national organizations like ImmSchools, The  Presidents’ Alliance on Higher Education and Immigration, Informed Immigrant, United We Dream, and Immigrants Rising.

Policies that promote belonging include:

• Pass and implement Safe Zone resolutions, which are policies at the district level that can help protect the rights of immigrant students and ensure they are receiving critical resources and support at the school level. Safe Zone resolutions often include protocols for responding to law enforcement and immigration officials’ requests, allocation of resources to staff training initiatives and mental health support, processes for establishing partnerships with CBOs to increase access to resources and community support, among others. 
• Prioritize and strategically leverage federal funds like Title III along with state and local funds to ensure that immigrant students are receiving adequate services and support in schools. 

If there was one thing you’d like every teacher, educator, public official to know, what would it be? 

Our students deserve to have schools that take proactive approaches to support them and their families with the language services, quality instruction, and resources they need to acclimate and succeed in schools. Supporting undocumented immigrant students requires more than just good intentions from teachers, educators, and public officials. It is unacceptable that even today, educators continue to put our students at risk of deportation in our schools. Our work of training teachers, school and system leaders with best practices for creating an inclusive school environment for all students is more critical than ever. 

How about funders – what are ways philanthropy can make a meaningful difference in this space?

We must continue to push district, state, and federal governments to expand the funding necessary to have supportive school infrastructures already in place to educate all children who walk through its doors. However, we know it will take all of us to get this right.

I recently read the article “Immigrants are Under Attack, Where is Philanthropy?” by Rini Chakraborty who shared how philanthropy for groups that advocate for immigrants have declined by 11% over the last decade. We must change this! All of our students in K-12, regardless of their immigration status, deserve for us to get it right. And philanthropy can play a significant role in making that possible.