During the first Trump administration, many students felt left behind by shifts in education policy, even when those policies weren’t officially enacted or fully implemented.

From perceptions of funding cuts to concerns about weakened civil rights protections, public school students nationwide described a growing sense of neglect and inequity, particularly in already under-resourced communities. This sentiment was echoed across diverse communities. One of the most common concerns students raised was the perceived decline in support for public education.

“There was less support for public schools, and you could see it in stuff like old materials, fewer class options, and teachers not having what they needed,” said an 11th-grade student.

A 10th-grade student added, “In a lot of Black neighborhoods, schools already don’t get enough support, and it felt like that gap just got wider.”

Though not all federal policies were directly administered at the school level, students often experienced the national tone and priorities as contributing to local struggles. Many believed the administration’s promotion of charter schools and private options came at the expense of the public schools they relied on. This contributed to what they saw as declining support systems like after-school tutoring, mental health services, and arts programs that had previously helped them thrive.

“Some programs get cut, especially for students who need extra help,” one student explained.

Students noted that, whether or not the cuts were directly tied to federal mandates, the result on the ground was the same: larger class sizes, fewer counselors, and reduced resources that impacted both learning and well-being.

Students from marginalized backgrounds, including Black, Latino, LGBTQ+, and immigrant communities, said they were especially affected. Many described a sense of exclusion from an education system that they felt was growing less inclusive.

“The rollback of protections for transgender students made school feel less safe. It created this vibe where education felt more divided, like the system wasn’t built for all of us,” said a 9th-grade student who identifies as bisexual.

“When leadership at the top doesn’t show support for equity, that attitude trickles down. It makes it harder to feel like you belong,” added a 10th-grade Black student.

Higher education also became a source of anxiety. Although sweeping changes to student loan policies didn’t materialize, students said the lack of support and attention to affordability made college feel further out of reach.

“We hear about debt all the time and how there’s less help paying for school,” one student said. “That pressure makes it feel impossible sometimes.”

Some families even started to question whether college was still worth it, given the costs and lack of financial relief.

Above all, students described a climate of confusion and frustration. Whether the policies were directly administered or not, their voices reveal a strong emotional and educational impact.

“People just want to be heard and supported,” said one 9th grader. “It’s hard when the country feels so divided on what education should look like.”

That early perception quickly shifted from distant concern to immediate danger when he re-entered the political arena to run for his 2024 campaign. 

“At first, it felt like satire… But what he was doing —spouting hate, scapegoating immigrants, mocking disabled people— wasn’t just about him. It was about the people who were cheering him on,” said Mahiat Noor, an Edison senior.

Many students said that what stuck with them most wasn’t just Trump’s rhetoric, but how openly he targeted specific communities and how readily some Americans embraced it.

“The way he spoke about minority communities had worried me as well, as I feared people may get more emboldened in their racism and prejudice against marginalized people. When it came to his tariffs and economic policies, I was especially frustrated to see so many people just supported them, took whatever he said as the truth, and failed to understand its true magnitude. Then they proceeded to get angry when it affected them. It just makes me shake my head,” said a black Edison senior.

While these concerns simmered during his first term, his re-entry into politics brought fears from abstract to immediate.

When Trump won the Presidential campaign, many students felt that they had lost hope. His election left a mark on students that hasn’t faded with time.

“My stomach dropped. It felt like being kicked in the chest. As a queer brown immigrant, I felt disposable — like the country just voted ‘yes’ on dehumanizing people like me,” said an Edison senior.

The disappointment didn’t stop at one party.

“I was also furious at the Democrats… We’re told to ‘vote blue no matter who,’ but we’re the ones who bleed no matter who’s in charge,” added Mahiat Noor. 

Students say these are not abstract fears—they are lived realities.

“It’s not theoretical for people like me… Trump’s win meant more ICE raids. It meant trans people losing health care. It meant white supremacists marching with tiki torches and not being condemned,” shared a queer Edison junior.

In the first 100 days of Trump’s second term in office, he has signed over 130 executive orders—each one reinforcing his campaign of hate, authoritarianism, and disregard for basic human rights. Unlike the previous term, where much of the harm was perceived through tone and underfunding, students and their communities are now witnessing direct, devastating consequences.

Now, with Trump back in office, the stakes feel even higher. Students and their communities say the anxieties they voiced during his first term have escalated into direct harms—executive actions with real consequences. 

“It was a blitz of cruelty: the Muslim ban, rolling back climate protections, banning trans people from the military, cutting public education funds, installing billionaires in charge of everything. It felt like a regime change, not a normal presidency,” Mahiat Noor said. 

At school, conversations often reflected shared frustration.

“Most of the time, I’ve heard other students discuss him in a negative light, which gives me hope that our generation can pave a new way.” shared an Edison junior.

But even with that hope, students say they’re still carrying the emotional weight of what Trump’s leadership has already done—and what it continues to threaten. For many, his policies didn’t just shape the past; they’ve shaped their future outlook, their mental health, and their belief in what America can be.

“I just remember hating it, hating it so much I couldn’t wait for it to end. Now, I’m still feeling that way,” said an Edison sophomore. “Once these four years are up, I just hope our country has some way to heal.”

This desire for healing is shared across identities and communities, but students say that healing isn’t possible without accountability. They question how a system meant to protect its most vulnerable could allow a leader who targets them to rise again, and what that says about the nation itself.

In the face of this hurt, many students say silence is no longer an option. The trauma may be deep, but so is their determination to speak up, organize, and demand something better. Across schools and communities, students are transforming their fear into action, channeling anger into advocacy and using their voices to reclaim power.

“We can’t just wait for things to get better on their own,” said an Edison junior. “If adults won’t fight for us, we have to fight for each other. That means protesting, organizing, educating ourselves—whatever it takes.”

From protests to social media campaigns, many young people are stepping into roles once reserved for older generations, asserting that civic engagement isn’t limited to ballots—it’s built in classrooms, lunchrooms, and daily conversations about justice.

Still, the wounds from Trump’s policies continue to fester, especially for those directly impacted by his administration’s most aggressive measures.

Some have found strength in activism, but many still carry the weight of injustice.

“When your existence feels like it’s up for debate, how do you study for a test?” shared Lux Vasquez.

After Trump’s many attacks on immigration, students were filled with fear and disgust.

“My dad is a permanent resident. We saw people with permanent status being deported. U.S. citizens too — like Peter Sean Brown and Francisco Erwin Galicia, both American citizens, wrongfully detained and deported under his administration. He literally ignored a Supreme Court order by refusing to facilitate the return of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a Salvadoran national who had been wrongfully deported despite a court order barring his removal. That’s a dictator move,” shared Noor.

 The assault extended beyond immigration. For LGBTQ+ students, it was deeply personal—a systemic, deliberate attempt to erase

“He gutted protections, emboldened bigots, and tried to redefine gender,” another student explained. 

“His administration removes LGBTQ+ info from government websites and tried to ban trans people from accessing health care. He didn’t just ignore us, he actively tried to erase us,” said one student. 

The pattern of targeting didn’t stop there. Students with disabilities also felt the weight of an administration that seemed to treat their existence as expendable. Many felt that the message was equally cruel: you don’t matter.

“He mocked a disabled reporter on national TV and still won. Then gutted social safety nets, tried to cut Medicaid, and made services less accessible,” one student said.

 “It showed that cruelty wasn’t a deal-breaker to millions of Americans,” shared an Edison freshman.

Black and Latino students described layered harm that ranged from school to home to national news cycles.

“Mass incarceration continued. So did family separations and deportations. He refused to condemn white supremacists and said there were ‘very fine people on both sides’ after Charlottesville,” said one student. 

“Police brutality skyrocketed under his watch, with federal backing,” said Vasquez.

And throughout it all, education—once seen as a path toward opportunity—was weakened at every level.

“He put Betsy DeVos in charge, someone who has no experience in public education,” one student said. 

“They funneled money to private schools and made it harder for marginalized kids to access quality education. They attacked student loan forgiveness. It was all about profit, not learning,” added an Edison Senior.

Even within the supposed safety of school walls, students say Trump’s influence could be felt—not just in policy, but in the people around them.

“I’ve had teachers open with support and some who didn’t say it out loud but hinted at it through ‘both sides’ rhetoric or even outright supported him. When staff support someone who wants people like me erased, it’s not ‘just politics,’ it’s personal. It creates a space where bigotry feels justified,” one student said.

For these students, Trump’s return to power has not just revived old traumas—it’s deepened them. And while some still cling to hope, they do so with the knowledge that hope alone isn’t enough. Healing, they insist, must come with truth, accountability, and a refusal to accept silence as safety.

For many students, the damage isn’t just in policies or headlines — it’s in the everyday reality of feeling unseen, unsafe, and unheard. But beneath the pain is a fierce determination: to rebuild, to reclaim, and to reshape a future that honors every identity, every story, every voice.

“We carry the scars,” one student shared, “but we also carry the strength to change things.”

The wounds run deep, and the path to healing won’t be easy or quick. But for these students, silence is no longer an option. They are standing up, speaking out, and demanding a future where their rights are protected—not debated. Their fight is a reminder that change begins not with politicians, but with the courage of those who refuse to be erased.

“We won’t wait for permission to exist,” one student said. “We’ll keep fighting for our schools, for our communities, and for the country we deserve.”