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As military vehicles rolled through the streets of Los Angeles this week in response to sweeping federal immigration orders, the scene was jarring — and deeply telling. The use of the National Guard and U.S. Marines to manage civic protest, particularly around immigration policy, wasn’t just about crowd control. It was a signal. A reminder that dissent in America is increasingly met not with dialogue, but with force.
And as the nation debates the legality of these orders, another question looms: What are our schools doing to help young people understand and navigate moments like this?
For millions of students, especially those from immigrant families, this is not a theoretical civics lesson — it’s real life. It’s family life. And yet, the way we teach civics today often ignores the messiness of democracy in practice. We ask students to memorize amendments, but rarely explore how those rights are contested in real time. We teach about voting, but don’t prepare them to interrogate power or advocate for justice in their own communities.
At a recent panel I participated on education and complexity in New York, author Anand Giridharadas named this disconnect. “We sanitize the world for young people,” he said. “And then we wonder why they don’t know how to respond when things get complicated.” But complexity isn’t a bug in our system — it’s the defining feature of modern civic life. If we want young people to inherit democracy, they must be equipped to understand — and shape — it.
This means we need a new definition of readiness. Not just college- and career-ready. But democracy-ready. That includes the ability to analyze competing narratives, to collaborate across lines of difference, to ask hard questions, and to act with integrity and care. It means recognizing that civic education is not a single subject but a through line — embedded in science, art, history and math. It means creating classrooms where students wrestle with current events, not avoid them.
Too often, educators are told to steer clear of anything “controversial.” But what’s at stake now isn’t just comfort — it’s democracy’s health. Silence in the face of injustice isn’t neutrality. It’s complicity. And when schools go quiet in moments of political tension, students don’t feel safe — they feel abandoned.
