FISHERS — Franklin Chicaiza’s kids enjoy school and like to learn. One son loves music and trying out new instruments. Another builds robots and likes tinkering with machines.
But his five children don’t get to indulge their interests or pursue their passions. That’s because Chicaiza and his family don’t have a home.
For the last couple of months, they’ve lived together in a single, cramped room in a small apartment they share with an acquaintance, who has allowed them to stay there.
Even so, the situation is better than the one they faced in their home in Ecuador, where Chicaiza owned a restaurant and another small business.
The family arrived in American about a year ago following a harrowing, months-long journey. Much of the more than 3,000-mile trip was made on foot through treacherous jungles and gang-ridden cities.
Chicaiza said they fled Ecuador because thugs began threatening his kids after his wife borrowed money from a drug cartel and then left them during the COVID pandemic. His youngest child is 5. The oldest is 12.
The danger grew so intense he decided to journey to the U.S. — the one safe place close enough to get to. After months of waiting in Mexico, they were permitted to enter the country and eventually ended up in Indianapolis in October.
Since then, Chicaiza has found a job at a restaurant. The 37-year-old and now-single father said his goal is to save enough to afford an apartment to give his children a real home.
His four oldest kids are now enrolled in the Hamilton Southeastern Schools district in Fishers and are learning English. But living in a small room with no privacy takes a toll on their education, Chicaiza explained.
“They all put a lot of effort into school,” he said through an interpreter. “If they had their own space to learn and try new things, that would be good for their education and learning new skills.”
‘WATER THROUGH A FIREHOUSE’
Chicaiza’s kids exemplify the swelling number of homeless immigrant students enrolled in Indiana schools.
Record numbers of immigrants from around the globe are crossing the U.S.-Mexico border, and some are arriving in Indiana with dreams of finding a home, a job and a good education for their children.
But for some schools, the sudden influx of students who live in unstable housing and don’t speak English has put a strain on staff, resources and funding.
Others aren’t even sure how to handle the surge and are left floundering to find solutions, according to Christina Arrom Garza, CEO of the Immigrant Welcome Center in Indianapolis.
“Schools are saying, ‘We’ve seen hundreds and we don’t know what to do,’” she said. “It’s like water through a firehose. It’s just all coming right at you.”
That’s been the case at Randolph Eastern School Corporation, a district of fewer than 900 students on Indiana’s border with Ohio. Since 2013, the number of students who don’t speak English as their primary language has grown from about 6% to over 27%, according to Superintendent Aaron Black. Much of that increase has come in the past few years. From 2019 to 2022, the number of immigrant students in the district jumped by nearly 160%, according to a grant-funding document published by the Indiana Department of Education.
The Evansville Vanderburgh School Corp. saw the largest increase of immigrant students in the state, with a whopping 535% jump in the same time period. School officials did not respond to emails seeking more information on the increase.
Black said Randolph County has a strong migrant farm worker community, and the schools and local residents have all welcomed the families with open arms.
Still, developing English language curricula taught by specialists is expensive, he said. The work is difficult, and sometimes teaching a fourth-grader with no understanding of English can be as time-intensive as teaching those with disabilities, Black explained.
Much of the cost for those teachers is paid through state and federal grants that will soon expire, leaving the district scrambling to find the money somewhere else.
“Right now, we’re working off borrowed time,” he said. “The funding sources are nowhere close.”
SLIPPING THROUGH THE CRACKS
One example is the McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act, the primary funding program aimed at helping homeless students.
The legislation was approved by Congress in 1987 and allocates money to schools to hire tutors, buy school supplies, provide transportation or offer specialized training for teachers. The program in 2022 provided $114 million to schools across the country. Indiana received $1.7 million. That doesn’t come close to covering the costs associated with helping homeless students, according to a study from the Learning Policy Institute.
Schools were provided $79 on average for each student facing homelessness in 2020. However, schools spent from $128 to $556 on average to help such students, forcing districts to dip into fundraising monies or other public coffers, the report found.
On top of the funding gap, many students who would qualify never even access the program.
Parents must self-report to schools that their children are homeless. Many choose not to out of embarrassment or fear, or they simply don’t know the program exists.
Immigrants are especially unlikely to report that they are homeless, even though many would qualify. Federal law requires all children, regardless of immigrant status, to enroll in school.
In Randolph County, at least half of the 250-some immigrant students in the district live with large groups of migrant workers, Superintendent Black said. The federal definition of homelessness includes students who share housing with someone else because of economic hardships. However, the official student homeless count in the district totaled only 2%, or around 20 kids, last year.
The hugely underreported number stems mostly from many immigrant families’ discomfort asking for help, explained Black.
“There’s just a big sense of pride and a pick-ourselves- up-by-the-bootstraps mentality,” he said.
Chicaiza from Ecuador said that was his attitude, as well. However, with the help of a nonprofit immigration service, he enrolled his kids as students under the McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act.
“I don’t like to ask and say, ‘Hey, I need food or these other things,’” he said through an interpreter. “I want to work to get what I need. For that reason, it’s important to keep my job because I don’t want to ask for that kind of help.”
HELPING THE HOMELESS
It’s a different story at Logansport Community Schools, which for decades has had a large population of Latino immigrants living in the community.
In that time, school officials have stepped up efforts to enroll students in the McKinney-Vento program by asking pointed questions to determine whether they qualify, according to Christine Hess, principal of Fairview Elementary School.
That’s reflected in the county’s official homeless student count, which sits at nearly 6% — the second highest rate in the state, next to Owen County at 9.5%.
Enrolling kids is especially important now. The district is experiencing a major uptick in the number of immigrant students arriving alone in the city with no parents and no place to live, Hess explained.
“We just have to do our due diligence to make sure students are counted that truly qualify,” she said. “That takes away a barrier and a hardship for them.”
The district also works closely with local nonprofits to provide help, taking students to doctor appointments and hosting a student-run food and clothing pantry.
“We do a whole heck of a lot that people probably don’t have any idea about,” Hess said.
Other districts are addressing the spike in homeless immigrant students by contracting with nonprofits such as Brightlane Learning, which specializes in educating students living through housing instability.
Since the pandemic, the number of schools hiring the agency jumped from under 10 to more than 20, according to Kelly Coker, COO and program director. Many of those students hail from countries that have rarely been the source of immigrants to Indiana, she explained.
“Historically, with our student population, we had Spanish-speaking and English- speaking students,” Coker said. “Now, there are maybe 10 languages spoken between our students.”
Finding staff who either speak or can learn those languages is difficult not only for the nonprofit, but also for districts who work with homeless immigrant students, she said.
It’s only going to get harder, Coker predicted.
“The number of languages spoken is becoming so large that it’s going be really hard to keep up with that trend,” she said.
A TICKET OUT
The influx of immigrant students may put a strain on some school districts, but that stress is worth it, according to Garza with the Immigrant Welcome Center. The education and wraparound support many schools provide is often a family’s ticket out of homelessness, she explained.
While kids attend classes and learn the language, parents are free to find a job and work to build up savings, credit and documentation so they can apply for an apartment or other permanent housing, Garza noted.
“We always push for enrolling the kids immediately when a family comes,” she said. “That’s our primary focus, because it helps with so many different things.”
That’s the same reason Logansport schools push so hard to enroll homeless students in McKinney-Vento programs, elementary Principal Hess said.
“It’s not just about coming in and teaching you how to read and write and do your math facts,” she said. “We really are in the business of helping support students and families outside of school.”
Chicaiza wants each of his five children to learn multiple languages. He doesn’t speak English, and that’s proved to be a major barrier. He doesn’t want the same for his kids.
After all, providing a safe place and better opportunities for his family is what ultimately led Chicaiza to flee Ecuador for America.
And now that his children are in Indiana and thriving in school, Chicaiza feels at peace for the first time in a long time — despite their cramped and temporary living conditions.
“Bad things happened in my country,” he said. “We all want a safe place to be with our families and raise our kids, so we are so grateful to be here.”
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