Across Minnesota and the nation, students streamed out of classrooms, a powerful wave of protest directed at Immigration and Customs Enforcement. These demonstrations were quickly hailed as evidence of a politically awakened generation, a surge of civic engagement that demanded attention.
But beneath the surface of passionate displays, a troubling question lingered: did these students truly understand what they were protesting, and how real change actually happens within the complex machinery of government? The energy was undeniable, yet the foundation of knowledge appeared shaky.
Demands to abolish ICE or compel the president to “end” the agency echoed through school hallways and on protest signs. These pronouncements, delivered with conviction, revealed a fundamental misunderstanding of how power is structured and how laws are made in the United States.
ICE doesn’t create immigration law; it enforces it. The agency operates within the boundaries of statutes painstakingly crafted and passed by Congress. To protest ICE without addressing the laws themselves is akin to battling a symptom while ignoring the disease.
The core issue isn’t opposition to a particular policy, but a disconnect between protest and the legislative process. If the goal is reform, the focus must be on Congress – the body with the authority to change the laws that ICE is bound to uphold.
This distinction between legislative and executive power should be a cornerstone of any civics education. Its absence points to a deeper, more systemic problem within K-12 schooling, a troubling gap in understanding how our government functions.
Schools increasingly encourage political expression and participation, yet often neglect to teach the foundational knowledge of how power is distributed and where accountability truly lies. Civic engagement is championed in theory, while civic literacy is treated as an afterthought.
These large-scale walkouts, while visually striking, often function as symbolic gestures, substituting for the sustained, informed engagement necessary for lasting change. The reality of low voter turnout among young people suggests a disconnect between visible protest and meaningful participation in democratic institutions.
A shift has occurred in civic education, moving away from institutional clarity. Teachers are often hesitant to delve deeply into political structures, and administrators tend to prioritize managing controversy over fostering critical examination.
The result is a curriculum that emphasizes broad concepts like “activism” and “engagement” without grounding them in the realities of constitutional authority, legislative responsibility, or the mechanisms of enforcement. This approach has far-reaching consequences.
Students are encouraged to embrace strong political positions without being required to grapple with policy tradeoffs, historical context, or institutional limitations. Complex systems are distilled into simplistic slogans, and nuanced analysis is replaced by moral certainty.
This isn’t a reflection of students’ intellectual capacity, but rather a consequence of educational priorities. Classrooms often shy away from disagreement, not because students lack opinions, but because debate is perceived as disruptive or risky.
Over time, students learn to articulate approved viewpoints without being challenged to defend them or consider alternative perspectives. The ICE walkouts vividly illustrate the cost of this imbalance, revealing how civic action loses its effectiveness when divorced from understanding.
Civic education shouldn’t discourage protest; it should empower students to protest *intelligently*. This requires a renewed focus on teaching how Congress operates, what federal agencies do, and where ultimate authority resides.
Students must be equipped to debate, question, and analyze power, not simply react to it. If schools continue to prioritize participation over literacy, protests will become more frequent while genuine understanding continues to erode, leaving democracy itself vulnerable.
