When the Law Threatens Student Safety

Printer-friendly version

Editor’s Note: The Southern Poverty Law Center has filed suit in South Carolina challenging SB 20.

I wish I could introduce Santos to many residents in my state. Santos is a fifth-grader at my school. I want to keep him safe.

He was in my classroom for the first half of second grade. His parents are migrant workers, so when the spring, summer and fall work on South Carolina farms slows and stops for the winter, they take their family to other places and look for life-sustaining employment. Over the past three years, Santos has spent part of the school years here and part away.

This year, as afternoon dismissal began on the sixth day of school, Santos was in the office with his mom.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "Santos, I'm so glad you’re here," I said.

"Hey, Mr. Barton," he said in his characteristic whispered tone. "I'm moving back here from Honduras."

The next day, I saw him sitting with a small group of students at the breakfast table in the cafeteria. I joined them.

"Santos, what was it like to live in Honduras?" I asked. "I've never been there. I'd like to visit."

"It's a beautiful place," he answered. "But it's very dangerous there. I heard gunshots all the time. My Dad had a gun to use to keep us safe. But I was afraid."

As an elementary school teacher, I don’t want my students to be afraid. Every day I tell them that they are safe when they are at school. I explain that there is more good in the world than bad and remind them that they can do something each day to make our community a better place for everybody. Children need to know they are safe. They must know there is hope in the world before they can learn.

“You are safe here, Santos,” I told him, looking into his eye from across the table. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

As I left his table and made my way around the cafeteria, I remembered that Gov. Nikki Haley signed the immigration reform bill SB 20 into law this summer, requiring police to check the immigration status of drivers on routine traffic stops. It also mandates that employers know the status of their employees. This law leaves many of my students and their families vulnerable and afraid.

“SC immigration law strikes fear into Hispanic community,” read a headline of another article. Children will have to worry that a parent can be taken away from a family if he or she doesn’t have proper papers. Yes, people are afraid.

Some in my state view it as morally correct to applaud harsh rhetoric and actions toward undocumented immigrants. I wish, though, that my angry neighbors could sit where I sit and look into the eyes of children from Honduras and understand that they came from a place where opportunity means getting paid $3 for an entire day’s work. Parents struggle to feed families. I wish they could hear a 10-year-old child speak about political violence with a tremble in his voice. I wish they knew Santos.

Maybe then they would embrace the Hispanic community and say, “I’m so glad to see you! I’m so glad you’re here.”

I have the power to make my school a safe place for all of my students. I will work to make my community a safe place for all people, too.

Barton is an elementary school teacher in South Carolina.