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The North Carolina Supreme Court in March is scheduled to hear oral arguments in a Beaufort County-based lawsuit that could affect the future of students who are suspended from public schools for long periods of time across North Carolina and the local school boards that hand down such suspensions. At issue is the right of students who receive long-term suspensions to have access to an alternative education during their time away from school. Existing state law leaves such access to the discretion of local school boards. One lawyer familiar with the case said it is one of the most significant education cases to appear before the state’s Supreme Court in a decade. “There are a lot of advocates who feel this case is very important,” said Benita N. Jones, a lawyer with the University of North Carolina School of Law’s Center for Civil Rights. The center filed a brief on behalf of two Beaufort County students suspended from school in 2008. Referring to a 1997 case involving then-student Robert A. Leandro over school funding, Jones said, “This is the Leandro case of this decade.” This is the second year in a row that a lawsuit involving the Beaufort County Board of Education has been before a state appellate court. Last year, the state high court ruled in favor of the Beaufort County Board of Commissioners in its case against the Beaufort County school board over school funding. In papers filed with the Supreme Court, lawyers for the two students maintain that alternative education should be considered part of the right to a sound, basic education as specified by the Supreme Court in the Leandro case. They say that given the types of alternative education available - including online and home-based courses - the court should require school boards to provide alternative education to students they suspend unless those boards find a compelling reason not to do so. “More than 5,000 students in North Carolina were suspended from school long-term last year, excluded entirely from both the regular school building and alternative school. ... Unless the school system can show that this banishment was necessary to promote a compelling governmental interest, it directly offends our Constitution,” writes Jane Wettach, a lawyer for the students, in an appellate brief to the Supreme Court. Lawyers for the school board argue that the right of North Carolina public school students to an education is an opportunity that can be forfeited by bad behavior. “The obstacles local boards of education face in maintaining safe and orderly schools are formidable, and events calling for discipline ... sometimes require immediate, effective action. ... Our appellate courts have thus affirmed that students may temporarily forfeit the right to attend public school through noncompliance with reasonable rules and regulations,” writes Curtis M. “Trey” Allen III, a lawyer for the school board, in a Supreme Court brief. School board lawyers also say the decision the provide alternative education to students receiving long-term suspensions should continue to rest where the General Assembly intended it - with local school systems. Although not considered to be a landmark in education law, the case could be “significant,” said Ann McColl, general counsel for the N.C. Association of School Administrators, one of two state education groups that have filed briefs supporting the school board’s decision. “The General Assembly has established laws regarding alternative education and has left to local school boards and administrators the discretion of offering alternative education to students,” she said. “It will be interesting to see how much deference the court gives to the General Assembly in establishing these guidelines.” If the high court rules in favor of the two Beaufort County students, educators will be watching whether the court makes any provision to fund alternative education, which is now left to local school systems, she said. “If the court mandates alternative education, will it require the state to provide funds to the schools for that education,” she said. The case now before the state’s high court was filed against the local school board on behalf of Viktoria King and Jessica Hardy, who were 10th grade students at Southside High School when a fight broke out Jan. 18, 2008, at the school. As a result of the fight, they were suspended from school for 10 days beginning Jan. 24, 2008. Subsequently, then-School Superintendent Jeffrey Moss followed a recommendation from then-Principal Todd Blumenreich that the students be suspended for the rest of the 2007-2008 school year. In a ruling Oct. 20, 2009, two of three judges on the state Court of Appeals sided with the local school board, saying that the ability of students subjected to long-term suspensions to receive alternative education during their suspensions should be left to the discretion of local school boards. But a third judge disagreed, saying that previous court decisions over school funding establish that the right to education is a fundamental right under the North Carolina Constitution and a long-term suspension that doesn’t include alternative education violates that right. That dissent guaranteed lawyers for the students the right to appeal the case to the state’s high court. The case has drawn the attention of civil rights groups from across the state and nation who have filed Amicus Curiae or Friend-of-the-Court briefs on behalf of the students. Among those groups are the American Civil Liberties Union, ACLU of North Carolina Legal Foundation, Council for Children’s Rights, NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, Inc., North Carolina Conference of NAACP Branches, Southern Coalition for Social Justice, Southern Poverty Law Center and about two dozen other state and national groups. And in a rare move, retired state Appeals and Supreme Court Judge Robert F. Orr has entered the legal fray - writing a brief stating that the Appeals Court erred when it sided with the school board. The case has drawn the attention of two state education organizations. The N.C. School Boards Association has filed a brief on behalf of the school board in addition to the N.C. Association of School Administrators. The state Supreme Court is scheduled to hear oral arguments in the case during the fourth week of March.

“I thought I would never get to meet my newborn,” Edwin Aly Ramirez says. That was his first thought after being detained by immigration in 2009 after going to court to translate for a friend — he was terrified that he would never see his wife or his three children, ages 10, 2 and 2 months, again. With the help of the Bond Fund and the Southern Coalition for Social Justice, Edwin was released on bond. He chokes up when he recalls his relief at seeing his three children. “I just want them to have a good life; a good education.” Edwin came to the U.S. alone at age 13, sent here by his parents in an effort to protect him from the brutal civil war in El Salvador. “This is my country,” Edwin says, “I’ve spent more than half of my life here.” Edwin has lived in the United States for 20 years; he is now 33 years old. “I’ve never had any problems. I’m not a criminal. I don’t drink. I only want to work for my children, for my wife, to provide for my family,” says Edwin. When he was detained by immigration officers, they him hit him in the back, legs and stomach, says Edwin. “I love this country and look how they treat me. Like trash. Just because I am brown.”

“They treated us worse than criminals. They treated us like animals,” Samuel said of the Stewart Detention Center in Georgia where he was held after his arrest for driving without a license. “We are human too. I came here to work, not to cause problems.” At the facility, Samuel and his fellow detainees were subjected to uncomfortably cold temperatures (according to Samuel, at least one man died from the cold and many more became ill); burning hot showers but no soap; insufficient access to water; and were forced to wear dirty, smelly clothes. The food—which detainees had to pay for themselves and which most couldn’t afford—made Samuel sick.

“I thank God for the help of the Bond Fund, SCSJ, and everyone who helped me raise the money for bond. I am very grateful. I never could have paid for it myself.” He and his family struggled immensely just to scrape together their half of the bond money in the stagnant economy. And while Samuel says it has been a blessing to spend his last days in the U.S. with his family, he worries about those still in the detention center who do not have sufficient funds to leave.

Now Samuel must return to Mexico, with no prospect of employment. He will leave behind his wife, three children and two granddaughters. In 2007, his only son was killed by police in Durham. Samuel wishes he could stay with his family in Greensboro and pursue an investigation of the incident.

Samuel brought his family here thirteen years ago, walking for days with no food or water in the hopes of getting a job to provide his family with a better life and his children with a good education. He worries about how they will fare after he is gone.

Alma is a survivor. Raised by her aunt and uncle, she became a victim of domestic violence at a young age. Eager to escape the abuse, at age 15 she married her first suitor — who also turned out to be abusive, and who she later found out was HIV positive. Her husband died of AIDS seventeen years ago, leaving her with three young sons in a community that ostracized them because of the stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS. “Everyone was afraid of our family and thought we could infect them just by touch,” she said. Alma reinvented herself and family, finding work at a U.S. military base in Panama. She began dating an American stationed there who she followed to America with the promise of marriage. She came to the United States looking for a new life free from violence and stigma, and longing for economic opportunity. But her dream soon turned into a nightmare. Her new boyfriend began to beat her; then he left. Once again, she had to recreate herself. She discovered that even having worked for the U.S. military in her country, and despite a degree in business administration that she fought to earn in Panama, she was not able to use her education to obtain work in the U.S. Instead she made a living by learning how to paint houses. Still, she was proud to be able to afford her own apartment and was eventually able to bring her three sons to America, eager to give them a good education and the opportunity for a better future. But as immigration enforcement heightened in North Carolina, and the economy spiraled downwards, Alma’s resilience began to corrode. Like many immigrants, she lives in constant fear of being detained and deported; she does not want to return to the life she thought she had escaped, even though she realizes that this one is oftentimes just as hard. “In this country I feel like a second class citizen living in Hitler’s Germany,” she says. She struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts. Like many immigrants, she is frightened of being in public spaces, and even afraid in her own home: “I hide when people knock on the door,” she says. In addition to living with constant anxiety, it has been increasingly difficult for Alma to find work as a result of the economic depression. She takes whatever housecleaning jobs she can find, but she is currently homeless and relies on the generosity of friends to house herself and her sons — though apart. She is continuously conscious of their vulnerability as they wear out their welcomes. Then on July 4th, while celebrating the liberation of his adopted country, her youngest son, Melvin, was picked up by the police at a party because of a noise complaint. He graduated from high school that May with good grades and dreamed of studying civil engineering. Alma beams with pride as she comments that Melvin received an American education. Once arrested, an ICE detainer was immediately placed on him. Despite Melvin’s relatively low bond of $2,500, without work it was impossible for Alma to afford this amount. Her depression deepened — her children were her greatest joy and now she was separated from her youngest. After reading about the Bond Fund in a local Spanish-language newspaper Alma called the Southern Coalition for Social Justice and received a loan. She brought her half of the bond into the office, painstakingly counting out the exact amount, “Will I really see m’ijo again?” She is grateful for the opportunity to spend Melvin’s last days in the U.S. with him. As his mother, it was unbearable to imagine him being alone in jail on his birthday; and she wanted one last Christmas Eve together. Although they cannot live in the same house, they see each other every day. However, both Alma and Melvin’s futures remain uncertain. “The American dream is not true,” Alma says. “We’ve sold the world on a false dream. We came here to work. Now there are 15 million immigrants living here in fear and panic and the U.S. doesn’t care.” She pauses, “This country forgets almost everyone is an immigrant. Immigration will always happen, they just don’t like when it’s poor people immigrating.”

Arnulfo was sixteen years old when he was taken from his home and inducted into the Salvadoran Civil War, a conflict which lasted 12 years and left 75,000 dead. Unable to find work in war torn El Salvador and eager to escape the growing gang violence there, Arnulfo came to the U.S. with temporary protected immigration status. But he has never been the same since the war, said his sister Aida: he struggles with scizophrenia, thoughts of suicide, alcohol dependence, and he has been admitted to mental health facilities multiple times. Arnulfo was living and working in Maryland when he was robbed and lost his legal papers, which he was then unable to renew. He came to North Carolina and was living with his sister when the police came to the house because of a noise complaint. Aida was beside herself when her brother was detained. “As his older sister, I always feel a responsibility to take care of him,” she said. She knew she couldn’t afford bond on her own — $5000 — and thanks God that she found the Bond Fund. “I’m so happy being able to spend time with my brother and knowing that he’s alright,” she said, “I know being in jail was not good for his already fragile mental health.”

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