“They took her, they took her, they took her.”

Those were some of the words Cora Muñoz, the Wilbur Cross high school assistant principal, could discern while on the phone with the guardian of one of her students. As the caller sobbed and struggled to speak, Muñoz realized that immigration enforcement agents had detained a kid from Wilbur Cross, the high school she helps lead.

Again.

There was a reason why Muñoz was a go-to contact for the student and her guardian: she – and New Haven public schools more broadly – have worked hard to earn the trust of immigrant families in their diverse district, even as the second Trump administration has made it easier for immigration officers to enter schools and launched a mass deportation campaign.

The district’s teachers and administrators have nurtured deep relationships with immigrant-serving organizations and helped kids access resources – attorneys, social workers, food – when needed. They’ve hosted sessions to inform students about their rights and sent home cards with legal information in case of an encounter with immigration officers. And when the worst has happened – when someone’s child or parent has been detained, which has occurred over and over in recent months – they have taken immediate action, writing letters in support of the family member’s freedom and raising money alongside a larger coalition of advocates trying to bring that person home.

“In these moments where it’s hard, you show up,” said Muñoz, “and you do what you can.”

Yet nothing has been able to entirely snuff out the fear of deportation inside the city’s schools, say students and educators. That may have contributed to a decline this October in the number of English language learner students enrolling; their numbers dropped by more than 2,000, or nearly 3.8%, across Connecticut between fall 2024 and fall 2025, and by 7.3% percent in New Haven, with many immigrant families who were expected to return to school simply disappearing.

Chronic absenteeism rates fell in New Haven during the 2024-25 academic year. But after Donald Trump took office, students said their families told them to skip extracurriculars or early college courses at a university campus in case immigration enforcement was around. For some, a college degree has started to feel more out of reach, as they adjust their dreams to fit within a new anti-immigrant reality. Teachers have seen kids stop participating in class after friends have been detained and they wonder if they could be next.

“I live with fear,” said Darwin, an 18-year-old student from Guatemala who has lived in New Haven for two years. His last name, like those of others in this story, is being withheld because of his immigration status. “Sometimes I don’t even want to attend school because it makes me afraid to go out of the house.”

In many school districts around the country, immigrant enrollment is down, as far fewer asylum seekers are able to reach the US and some immigrants have chosen to return their countries to avoid detention. That said, the consequences of Trump’s mass deportation campaign on immigrants’ education vary greatly depending on the community, its demographics and the level of enforcement activity there, said Julie Sugarman, associate director for K-12 education research at the DC-based Migration Policy Institute’s National Center on Immigrant Integration Policy.

“We are definitely hearing anecdotally that there are kids not going to school,” Sugarman said. “Obviously, losing a whole year of education or however long they’re not in school, they are missing out on opportunities to develop their content knowledge, to learn literacy, to develop English, and also to develop academic skills in their native language.”

With seven institutions of higher learning in the area, New Haven is known as a college town. But it is also a city of immigrants: more than one in six New Haven residents are foreign-born, a statistic that underscores a point of pride for many who welcome the city’s diversity. Families in the public school system speak more than 70 languages.

At the Roberto Clemente Leadership academy, a K-8 school with around 430 students, notices go home in English, Spanish, Pashto and Arabic. The school’s front doors have welcome signs posted in multiple languages. And on a bright red poster in the hallway, photos of beaming children surround a message: “We all smile in the same language.”

When Trump, who has argued that immigrants are “poisoning the blood of our country”, nixed guidance in January that had generally restricted US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) from going into schools to arrest people, Madeline Negrón, the New Haven public schools superintendent, was prepared. Ahead of Trump’s inauguration, her team reviewed how the district had protected students during his first term and in what ways they could fortify their response. They developed a district-wide policy on how to act if ICE officers sought to enter their buildings. It involves a series of steps – including legal counsel’s verification of a valid warrant – before immigration agents would ever be allowed in.

“Without that, nobody, no one, is going to walk through my doors. Because my obligation is to keep every single one of my children safe,” said Negrón, who also shared the policy in a letter to parents.

Negrón led an effort to train all administrators in the protocol, and then those staff helped to train all 2,900 district employees – including custodians, cafeteria workers, teachers, security guards and secretaries.

Some schools went even further, holding know-your-rights presentations for students and their families. “Things like a judicial v administrative warrant – you know, I wish that no kid in New Haven needed to know that,” said Ben Scudder, a social studies teacher at High School in the Community. “But we live in a world where they do, and their families do, and so we’re gonna make sure that they get the training they need to do that.”

So far, ICE hasn’t tried to enter New Haven’s public schools. But outside of the classroom, arrests and family separations abound.

In June, a woman and her two children – an eight-year-old boy and a 13-year-old girl, both US citizens – were in their car going to school when vehicles on the street surrounded them and men in ski masks approached. The kids watched, crying, as the immigration agents handcuffed their mom and led her away.

Staff members at the Roberto Clemente Leadership academy, which the kids attend, fundraised for gift cards to grocery stores and delivery services to help their two students. They wrote support letters for the mother’s immigration case, asking for her release. But around a month later, she was deported to Mexico.

Now, whenever the younger sibling sees someone in uniform at school – a security guard, a police officer – he asks them why they took his mom, said Adela Jorge, Clemente’s principal.

“He’s not able to understand what happened,” Jorge said. “All he knows is that his mother was taken.”

Soon after that, two Wilbur Cross students were nabbed one after the other. First was an 18-year-old named Esdras, arrested at his summer job, shuffled to detention facilities around the country, and almost put on a removal flight to Guatemala.

After more than a month – with the help of advocacy groups, his attorney, the teachers union, government officials and school employees who came together during summer break – Esdras was released. When he returned to Wilbur Cross, he told staff members all he wanted was to be normal, a request they have tried to honor by quietly reintegrating him into classes.

Then, shortly after the start of the new academic year, another student – the one whose guardian had called Muñoz in a panic – was detained.

“At first I thought she was mad at me or something,” said 17-year-old Melany, recalling when her friend suddenly stopped responding to phone messages. “But when she didn’t come to school, it really scared me. And I asked the teachers, but they couldn’t tell me anything.”

Her friend was eventually freed, too. But teachers and administrators say they’re fed up that their students keep being targeted and treated so poorly.

“They’re our kids, and they’re being detained in these cages. And the day before, they were eating pizza in our cafeteria,” said Matt Brown, the Wilbur Cross principal.

Rumors and fears at times disrupt learning. One day in mid-October, around 10.20am, immigration agents in tactical gear were seemingly staging in a park near a New Haven area college, setting off concerns that students were their targets. But about 20 minutes later, the agents instead hit a car wash in Hamden, Connecticut, arresting its workers.

“I don’t know what rights they had in those moments. It didn’t seem like they had any. There were no rights there,” said Laurie Sweet, a state representative whose district includes Hamden. “I think the intention is to cause chaos and make people feel destabilized, and that definitely is what happened.”

ICE took eight people into custody that day, some of them parents of school-aged children. Tabitha Sookdeo, executive director of Connecticut Students for a Dream, said her organization searched school records for the kids, trying to ensure they were okay. But no one could find them.

“We just hope and pray to God that they were able to have someone to pick them up from school,” Sookdeo said.

Teachers say all of this has made immigrant students quieter, more reserved, more observant – and more hopeless. Kids who used to exchange greetings with their teachers in the halls now trudge around like the walking dead, or ask for passes to leave the classroom more often.

“I’ve seen a lot more sadness, and I’ve seen a lot more students, who are good students, skipping classes. And it’s for no reason except that they just, you know, they have too much going on emotionally to make them go to their classes,” said Fatima Nouchkioui, a teacher of English as a second language at Wilbur Cross’ international academy.

Sookdeo has noticed a drop in students at her organization’s college access program, as they question why they would try to get a college degree when they don’t know whether they’ll be in the US tomorrow.

“You’re sitting next to them,” she said of the high schoolers she works with. “And they’re literally shaking.”

Many of the kids already have a pile of pressures to navigate. In some cases, they are living in the country by themselves, balancing school with jobs that allow them to send money home to parents and siblings. Darwin, for example, came to the US leaving behind his mom and three younger siblings. He lives in New Haven alone – all to give his family members who remain abroad a better life.

And then there’s always the next arrest, constantly looming.

“Do we anticipate having kids detained again?” said Brown. “I haven’t seen anything that would make me think we shouldn’t.”

This story about fear of deportation was produced by The Hechinger Report, a non-profit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education.

An audit detailing the misuse of state grant funds by Blue Hills Civic Association is prompting calls for more oversight of state aid for nonprofits.  

Department of Economic and Community Development (DECD) Commissioner Daniel O’Keefe said the agency has already put more controls in place.  

“I think what the audit details is–it seems that people were taking advantage of a process,” O’Keefe said Thursday.  

Those changes include requiring more information from nonprofits before grants are dispersed.  

Still, lawmakers expect to talk about further changes.  

“Obviously, the audit report raises many issues of concern in many areas, including state oversight of grants being given out,” Sen. Martin Looney (D-President Pro Tem) said.  

Republicans want further changes to create transparency about which nonprofits receive grants and whether the funding is achieving the intended results.  

DECD retained CliftonLarsonAllen LLP to conduct a forensic audit after BHCA notified the department last year that it never received a $300,000 wire transfer.  

In their findings, CLA said there were “pervasive governance failures, systemic internal control weaknesses, and patterns of conduct that strongly suggest potential fraud and misappropriation of public funds.” 

It also alleged that Sen. Doug McCrory (D-Hartford) wielded significant influence over how BHCA dispersed roughly $15 million in grants to other community organizations in recent years.  

“Available documentation and email correspondence indicate that funding allocations were largely determined by Senator McCrory, with BHCA executing disbursements without consistent adherence to required procedures such as obtaining signed MOUs or projected budgets prior to payment,” the audit said. “The prevalence of backdated MOUs, missing agreements, and passthrough arrangements lacking transparency further underscores significant governance and compliance deficiencies within BHCA. These practices raise concerns about BHCA’s accountability, proper oversight, and adherence to legislative grant requirements.” 

O’Keefe said the DECD now requires nonprofits to provide documentation of how they disburse funds, including proof of checks and balances to ensure funds are spent properly.  

The policy changes were put in place by the Office of Policy and Management for all statewide agencies.  

The rules were already in place for competitive grants under DECD’s discretion, but BHCA’s grants were secured in the budget through a process that gives broad discretion to lawmakers.  

The FBI has been investigating how Hartford-area nonprofits have used grant funding, including issuing subpoenas naming McCrory multiple times.   

The subpoenas asked the state for records that, among other information, reference a possible personal relationship between McCrory and Sonsera Cicero, owner of the nonprofit consulting firm Society of Human Engagement and Business Alignment.   

O’Keefe said he was particularly concerned that auditors identified “$208,000 in unsupported disbursements that either violated conflict of interest best practice standards or were used to pay for services that were not performed.”  

The audited states $168,000 of that money went to Cicero or SHEBA. The state is also now working on a policy to pause payments when there are concerns about misuse.  

McCrory issued a statement denying any wrongdoing but also acknowledged the need for greater control and transparency.   

“First, the DECD audit makes clear that stronger oversight is needed to ensure that public funds are managed responsibly and effectively,” he said. “I agree with this goal and will be supportive of reasonable measures to achieve it.” 

McCrory has not spoken to the media since an exclusive interview with NBC Connecticut last week, in which he announced his intention to seek re-election.  

Harding said lawmakers need to look at changes around how grant decisions are made. He said the process lacks transparency and allows lawmakers to award grants in the budget in exchange for support on the budget or other legislation.  

“Democratic leadership goes to their legislators, asks them what organizations they want to receive taxpayer money, and then we vote on it,” he said. “That’s unacceptable.”  

Gov. Ned Lamont (D-Connecticut) said the problem is not exclusive to his party.  

“First of all, they have their own earmarks,” he said. “We can talk about earmarks if you want to.”  

Bye-bye, Banksy.

A Brooklyn family is about half a million dollars richer after selling a mural of a little robot that the iconic graffiti artist Banksy painted on their Coney Island building for 13 years ago.

The Ruoccos decade-long effort to cash in on “The Tagging Robot” ended last month, when an arts company took down an entire section of their Stillwell and Neptune avenues brick wall and shipped it off to a trendy brewery in Connecticut, the family said.

“Brooklyn family strikes gold!” Richard Ruocco, of Bergen Beach, joked to The Post Wednesday.

The Ruoccos had been trying to pawn off the famous mural since they effectively hit the art world lottery, when the enigmatic graffiti legend painted the bot on their building in the middle of the night back in October 2013, shortly after Superstorm Sandy.

The piece, which the family lovingly calls “Mr. Robot,” depicted the android spray painting a barcode, and was one of several barcode murals that Banksy blanketed across the globe that fall.

The Ruoccos initially had no idea that the graffiti was by a famous artist until swarms of gawkers came to witness the viral sensation.

They immediately protected Mr. Robot behind a roll-down gate and hired a security guard — and started looking to make a bundle off the work in the arts market.

“Why not? What are we going to do with it? Leave it on the wall and lose the money,” said Ruocco, who is cousins to the Russo family behind Gargiulo’s in Coney Island.

Unfortunately, the hype around Banksy died down and buyers were hard to come by until Ruocco’s older brother, Anthony, read that a Connecticut beer garden had acquired another Banksy mural that was left in The Bronx during the same era as “Mr. Robot.

Foolproof in Bridgeport last February installed a massive wall showing a young boy spray painting the words “Ghetto 4 Life” on a brick wall while a butler in formal attire stands beside him holding a tray of spray paint cans — which initially caused an unwelcome stir for “insulting the neighborhood,” CT Post reported at the time.

Anthony Ruocco called the brewery over the summer and “brokered the deal” to pass along the Robot mural, Ruocco said.

“We didn’t sell it for what we originally wanted. We lowered our price and he went for it. Not too many people were willing to buy a brick wall,” said Ruocco, adding that the buyer also had to pay about $75,000 for art shippers to remove and transport the mural.

Representatives for Foolproof did not immediately respond to The Post’s request for comment.

An incredible video shows Fine Art Shippers meticulously shoring up a portion of the brick wall into steel framing and jackhammering it out into one piece before shipping it off to Bridgeport, a journey first reported by Coneyologist.

Ruocco did not want to share how much cash the family received for the piece, but teased that it was for “less than half a million bucks.”

“That’s too personal. No one needs to know that, except my accountant,” he said.

He and his five siblings evenly split the sale, which leaves “enough to buy a nice car each.”

“We’re a very fair family. I know that’s what our parents would have wanted us to do. We shared everything right to the penny,” said Ruocco.

One of the siblings has already treated themselves to a cruise and Ruocco dreamed about buying a new car for his collection, though he admitted his wife would make him get rid of one before adding another.

The Ruocco siblings, now all in retirement, are planning to sell the building where the Banksy mural once lived. It had once been the site of Aiello’s catering, which the family ran from the 80s to the 90s.