Of Course They Did
The only unique aspect of this public school bulding is that the band room on the basement level flooed 15 times last year. So the band is in the auxilary building that used to house auto shop-because the district declared it racist to continue to offer auto shop---or wooodworking or Home Ec--- in a Title 1 school.
The school has the same "story" as many across districts. It was A Great School up until about the 2000's. That's when the neighborhood demographic changed and School Choice sucked the white kids with two working parents into schools whose claim to diversity were students with pigment in their skin numbered so low they were counted on one hand.
And that is where they stool on that day in November 2025. The Friday before Thanksgiving break.
The purple state within which this school resides had had little contact thus far with ICE. The schools farther east had armed ICE agents on apartment rooftops surrounding one of the high schools, which was a lovely start to the day for those kids. But overall, the state had avoided any action bearing a name that sounds exactly like a military attack.
The building was run by a former WNBA player who traded her days on buses traveling from game to game for a home, kids and a job teaching high school science. She saw a need and earned her ME and Type D license. She was a good fit for a struggling building. And her skin had pigment. Bonus in what the district likes to call "a very diverse population".
Pigment is a big player in the skin tones of her all female admin, who are a beautiful range of latte to dark chocolate, with one pale outlier, whose kindness and perpetual smile made her look like she was constantly apologizing for her lack of skin color.
The kids were largely LatinX with a mix of black kids and a smattering of peach tones and even translucent white.
The school itself was on the district radar, as the kids were not scoring high enough on precollege assessments to prove the worthiness of the building. Teachers and students alike--all 700 of them--pulled together to "play the game" and work on test taking strategies to get them off the radar. The kids loved their school and stepped up to play a game they knew was rigged against them. They loved that only 700 people were rattling around a 60 year old, four story building like pinballs. They were close to their teachers, admin knew every one of them by name and they were welcomed daily with free breakfast and respect.
This closeness is why nobody who was there that day talks about what happened as anything out of the ordinary.
These kids handmade signs and took to the Capital building after a shooting in a neighboring district. They win and lose at sports, their choir is world class but too small to be noticed and they rally around their MI (Sped) students like they are family.
It was early in the morning, 8.30 am. Classes begin at 8.20, and kids enter the building at 8 and mill around the giant marble and glass lobby until the bell rings and they hit the staircases. Late students must come in through the attendance office door and log their student number. No other doors are unlocked.
So when ICE arrived, students saw them from the upstairs windows or lobby. Most in the lobby were band kids getting ready to trek across the parking lot. Always A Big Deal, like they were hiking the Andes. The kids upstairs lept from their seats and rushed the stairs.
So did the teachers.
The secretary was attempting to hold ICE at bay at her one entry, but their sheer volume and size pushed right past her. Once the first few were in, they opened the main doors for their buddies.
When they were all in the lobby-maybe thirty of them- they turned to face seven hundred teachers and students quietly glaring at them.
The Principal arrived--an impressive figure, she was taller than several of the masked kidnappers. She simply stood behind them---the kids could see her, but ICE had to turn around---until they all realized she was there. Flanked by her team, she quietly crossed her arms. When the silence settled, she said "You're trespassing."
"We're federal agents. We have authority."
"I'm the principal of this school. This is my school, and you have no authority over me."
"We followed a known felon into this building, we're here for him."
"Which one is he? What's his name? Where is your warrant, federal agents here legally?"
When ICE turned back to the mass of students and teachers, it was now facing a wall of white teachers. A latina girl with eyelashes like feathers and nails like talons pushed her way through to face the masked men.
"We don't need them to protect us, they're just suffering from White Savior Syndrome." There was a laugh behind her. "Show me the warrant."
"We don't need a warrant," the speaker's voice was oddly clear through the mask, like he was wearing a mic. He took a step toward her.
The entire crowd took two steps forward.
She held her ground and his eyes, forcing him to look at her. More aptly, down at her as she rang in at an impressive five foot three, and well under one hundred pounds. All of it grounded, sharpened and ready. "This is a public school building. You are not allowed here--we read the law in class, we know our rights. You do not have a warrant, and even if you did, you're in a public school building."
There was a roar from outside. On the suburban street, cars and motorcycles were lining up to block the ICE vehicles in. People were getting out and throwing slices of American cheese at the doors and windows of the black, unmarked vehicles. One gentleman methodically glued condoms on a windshield while his friend directed his artistic vision.
"'Cause cheese will fuck up your paint job," the girl stared at her opponont. "Y'all can't arrest us for cheese."
They stood like that for a few minutes. Then the cars ouside, having layered cheese at least twice on every vehicle, began to disperse.
Then the fire alarm went off.
Nobody moved.
The fire department could not get into the parking lot due to the ICE vehicles.
A science teacher descended the stairs and joined the crowd.
"The isn't a scheduled drill, friends," the principal said. "Y'all need to get out of the children's exit path.
The mass of students and teachers pushed the kidnappers outside, but stayed inside the building. They watched as the Fire department pulled onto the lawn and tow trucks arrived to begin moving the black, unmarked vehicles, now covered in cheese.
When the fire department arrived in the lobby, grumbling about SUV's in their way, the science teacher took the fire chief by the arm and quietly led him upstairs.
"We'll have to cite you in violation of fire drill protocol," said a fireman, looking at the group in the lobby as if they may attack him.
"I was keeping my kids safe," the principal stated flatly.
"Ya you did," the girl who had spoken, whose name was Gianna, said as she high fived her principal.
"Nope. We did." The principal smiled. She turned to her team and breathed "Wasn't that some shit?"
"We gotta go back to class Miss?" a voice from the crowd, big smile and bushy eyebrows raised to the roof.
"Yep. Head back up. Show's over."
"Aw dang...OK Miss. Did you see the guy gluing rubbers? That's my uncle."
Laughing, the kids slowly moved toward the staircases while admin stood in the slowly emptying lobby and exhaled.
Friday, 21 November 2025. Just a day in a small, public school, that nobody talks about.
