A couple who arrived in St. Paul from Nicaragua under refugee status in 2023 say their children missed going to school. Their three students took part in St. Paul Public Schools’ temporary virtual learning program due to fears over federal immigration enforcement actions in Minnesota, which U.S. D epartment of Homeland Security officials called the largest immigration crackdown in its history. Their oldest child, a son, who worried about his declining academic performance while at home, recently returned to his high school. He was greeted with hugs and teachers shouting his name, welcoming him back, according to his mother. The couple’s second-oldest child has also returned to school. They say they won’t forget the support the district provided — including connecting the couple with an attorney when the father was detained and sent to Texas as well as the box lunches for their children. “I feel like they’re my family,” said the mother, who asked to be identified only by the initial M. due to fear of being targeted for detainment, in Spanish through an interpreter. “We don’t have family here; it’s only five of us. We feel very grateful and supported by all of them.” The woman and her husband are in the U.S. as refugees and in the process of getting green cards. Cristy Gaffney picks up the son of immigrants to drive him to school in St. Paul on Tuesday, Feb. 24, 2026. Gaffney drives him each day as his family fears they will be targeted by federal immigration agents if they leave their home. (John Autey / Pioneer Press) About 7,900 students enrolled in St. Paul’s virtual learning When St. Paul Public Schools introduced the temporary virtual learning option starting Jan. 22, about 7,900 of the district’s approximately 33,260 students signed up. As of late February, the number has dropped to around 3,700. Federal officials on Feb. 12 announced a drawdown of immigration agents. Virtual learning, as well as the district’s other responses to the surge — including delivering box lunches for students — have cost approximately $905,000, according to SPPS officials. Among the costs to the district, around $460,000 is in the form of lost nutrition revenue due to fewer students eating school meals. Technology for virtual learning has cost about $328,000 — from extra iPads and chargers to Wi-Fi hotspots for students. Another $62,000 is for meal delivery and $42,000 has gone to lesson creation costs. Those costs are expected to continue to grow, according to the district. Initially, as many as half of SPPS students at some schools were enrolled in the temporary virtual option, Superintendent Stacie Stanley said at a school board meeting in February. Elementary students have the option to opt back into in-person learning every three weeks, with March 6 being the next deadline for students wanting to return the next week. High school and middle school students can request to return to in-person learning at any point. ‘A school-wide effect’ SPPS math teacher Michael Houston said in February that his classes have seemed emptier and quieter since the immigration enforcement began. He said it reminds him of school before a long break with families traveling out of town. In some of his classes, he estimates around 10% to 15% of his students have been absent. In one of his classes, it’s been around 50% of students, though some of it could be attributed to general absenteeism, he said. To adjust to temporary virtual learning, some teachers in the district switched to the role of an online teacher, with the students in their in-person classes being split between other teachers. Other adjustments have also been needed for staff concerned about coming to school during the surge. Students attending school and those learning virtually are both impacted by the change, said Quentin Wathum-Ocama, who teaches kindergarten in the district. “I think that gets lost a little bit when we talk about these virtual options, that it is really a school-wide effect,” Wathum-Ocama said. A day of learning virtually At Groveland Park Elementary School, there’s a morning check-in with students enrolled in virtual learning, said Principal Sarah Lightner, allowing them to stay somewhat connected. That has included students passing around a tablet so a student at home can talk with classmates and share how their day is going, she said. “And then they have meetings, there’s literacy groups and math groups with the online teacher during the day for about a half-hour each. And then at the end of the day, they were able to meet with their specialist teacher. So that’s science, P.E., art and music,” Lightner said. “So they might have some specific projects to work on with them, with things at home, but also just maintaining that connection with those teachers that they are used to seeing regularly at Groveland.” Lightner compares it to a one-room schoolhouse model in some ways because the online teacher is working with kindergarten through fifth grade. Online teachers meet with students in small groups and in-person teachers help maintain connections in the morning, Lightner said. While students are still able to receive lessons for literacy and math, other classes have not been available to some grades if teachers are not available. Lightner has had conversations with her staff about their safety coming into work, whether that’s having carpools available or parent patrols in place near where staff park. “It touched every part of our community and there were certainly — I mean at Groveland, about 50% of our students are BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and people of color) and every part of that community was touched,” she said. Arriving from Nicaragua Meanwhile, the couple from Nicaragua says they are pleased their children have returned to school in St. Paul. But their experience of having the father detained and flown to Texas has left painful memories. The mother, M., worked as a lawyer in Nicaragua, which often involved her in areas of social and political work, she said. Because she was receiving threats for her work, the family decided to move for their safety. “It was a very hard decision to leave behind our city, our country, our family. But our life was in danger, simply for having a different opinion from the government,” M. said. They first moved to Costa Rica, where their two youngest children were born, before they resettled in Minnesota. When they arrived to the state, they saw it as an opportunity to live somewhere safer and with more opportunities, said the father. “We felt very safe, content, happy. We felt that we connected with the community, with our children’s school, with the people that we had met,” she said. “But everything has changed as a result of ICE.” A knock at the door One day in mid-January, as M. prepared to leave for work, the couple heard a knock at the door. It was two U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents, insisting they open the door. The couple had never seen ICE agents in person before and the agents showed the couple a photo of the husband they had on a phone. “So, the officer says, ‘Open the door if you don’t want us to knock down the door,’” said the husband, in Spanish through an interpreter. “The first thing that came to my mind is my girls, like about how traumatic it could be, they see ICE knocking the door down.” The agents didn’t show a warrant, the couple said, and it was unclear how they knew the husband was there. The husband was taken to the Bishop Henry Whipple Federal Building at Fort Snelling. The husband said the only thing he could think at the time was that the agents didn’t care about his documents and were just going to deport him. A staff person at their son’s school was able to connect M. with an attorney. Also, the day her husband was detained, the family tracked his phone location, which showed him at the airport around 10 p.m. “We realized what time he left from here, when he went on the plane, when he arrived in El Paso, Texas,” M. said. “And the entire night, because all of this started at 9 in the morning, the whole day, the night, we didn’t sleep.” Held in Texas Upon arriving in Texas, M.’s husband and other detainees were taken to a building that was nothing more than a roof and an area enclosed with mesh, he said. Their chains were removed and the weather was very cold. After one day and night in El Paso, the husband and a group of other detainees were put on a bus to Houston. Eight days after he was detained, the husband was released with several other detainees. His brother, who also lives in the U.S., was able to pick him up before M. purchased him a ticket to fly home. Several days before his release, a law firm hired by M. had filed a writ of habeas corpus, which can be used to determine if an imprisonment is legal. It’s difficult for the couple to talk about his detainment, they said. And, they still don’t feel safe. A community member brings their son to school and their life is mainly just leaving home for work. That agents can detain someone without providing documentation and without caring about the harm they cause to that person and their family is very sad, the husband said. “Because they caused trauma,” M. added. “And the worst part is that it’s unjustified.” Refugee rights groups sued the federal government in January after the Department of Homeland Security and U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services launched what they call Operation Post-Admission Refugee Reverification and Integrity Strengthening, or Operation PARRIS, in mid-December, according to the Associated Press. The program targets refugees in the state who have not yet secured permanent resident status, such as a green card, with the purpose of reexamining their legal status. The lawsuit alleges that under the program, ICE officers went door to door arresting refugees and sending them to Texas detention centers, without access to attorneys. Some, like M.’s husband, were later released and left to figure out how to return to Minnesota on their own. Alongside that operation has been Operation Metro Surge, which launched in December and, according to the Trump administration, exists to investigate allegations of fraud within Minnesota’s Somali community and “target the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens in the Minneapolis area.” Back at school As students gradually return to school, and some remain online, teachers and administrators said they have mixed feelings. “Honestly, I’m just looking forward to having that classroom community that I’m so used to having,” said Houston, the math teacher. “Having a classroom full of students and we’re all learning math, laughing, joking, bantering. You know, the reason why I got into teaching. So that’s what I’m looking forward to when all of our students can feel safe enough to come back through our doors.” Lightner said the experience has been a heavy load for the entire community and an added stress for teachers. 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