IndigenousNetwork had the opportunity to attend this week’s American Community Media briefing titled Why Do Families Migrate? Children’s Education is the Currency of Love. The featured speaker, Dr. Gabrielle Oliveira, Associate Professor at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, brought a grounded, human view to a subject that’s often reduced to numbers and policy fights. Her research focuses on family migration across the Americas, particularly how parents and children navigate the complicated reality of leaving home behind in search of something better.
Oliveira’s remarks were rooted in years of fieldwork with immigrant families (and in fact, many of them Indigenous) who see education not just as a system, but as a promise. “Education becomes this stabilizing force,” she said. “The promise of your kid going to a school, being in a classroom, reading books... brings the sense of the sacrifice being worth it.” She explained that while most migration stories get framed around economics or violence, there’s often a much deeper motivation: the moral commitment parents feel to give their kids a better chance.
That commitment has real consequences, especially right now. Several questions during the briefing touched on the story of Norrisontay Ramos, a 17-year-old honor student from Los Angeles who was deported to Guatemala. Her mother, who was Indigenous, died shortly afterward because she couldn't access her medication. Oliveira didn’t hesitate to call it what it is: “We don’t make immigration policy thinking about children’s well-being,” she said. “And then we tell ourselves that kids are resilient, that they’ll get through it, but that’s not fair.” She pointed out that the trauma of events like this doesn’t disappear. It lingers in children’s lives, often in ways that schools and systems are not equipped to see, let alone support.
For Indigenous families in particular, these policies can be doubly damaging. Oliveira highlighted how schools often assume that all Latin American migrants share language, culture, and history, which is simply not the case. Indigenous students from Guatemala or southern Mexico often speak a primary language that is not Spanish. They may come from rural communities where formal education looked very different. If it existed at all. “The moment we assume they’re all the same, we risk erasing who they are,” Oliveira said. “And that pushes them to hide, to stay quiet, to try not to be seen.”
Still, Oliveira made clear that there is strength in these communities. Even when resources are limited and policies are hostile, families continue to adapt and support one another. She talked about how many immigrant parents view schooling not just as a path to opportunity, but as a way to express love. “It’s not just about the diploma or the grades. It’s about saying, I left everything I knew so you could have this. This is how I show I care.”
There was also time spent discussing what schools can do better, especially in this climate of heightened fear. Parents are increasingly worried about picking up their children, using public buses more often to avoid being stopped. Some have stopped sending their kids to school entirely. Oliveira described how educators sometimes hesitate to engage when a child brings up trauma or shares personal stories. Her advice: lean in, don’t back away. “Teachers don’t need to solve every social issue,” she said, “but they do need to listen. And they need a team, psychologists, social workers, aides so that no child falls through the cracks.”
Her words come at a time when Indigenous-led organizations and advocates are calling out how immigration policy and enforcement continue to harm Native communities across borders. Whether through detention, forced family separation, or language loss, the impacts are layered and long-term. Oliveira’s research doesn’t offer easy fixes, but it does offer clarity. It reminds us that behind every policy decision are children who are trying to learn, parents who are trying to hold things together, and schools that have the power either to welcome or to exclude.
When asked what moves even the most conservative policymakers, Oliveira responded plainly: “Talk about kids. Most people can’t ignore a five-year-old who just wants to learn. That’s where we start.”
For Indigenous communities navigating migration and education in the U.S., that message is more relevant than ever. As families continue to face fear and uncertainty, their stories are also stories of resilience. And in every classroom where a child is allowed to be fully seen, fully heard, and fully taught, there’s a strong act of justice happening.
