Criticism over proposals to close sixth forms in county
Councillors have criticised proposals which could see Powys end up with just two sixth forms.
A Powys County Council learning and skills scrutiny committee meeting on Friday saw three options revealed as the outcome of a strategic review into post-16 education.
The preferred option would see a sixth form college with one management team set up across two sites in Brecon and Newtown, while another college would be set up across a number of Welsh medium schools.
Councillor Chloe Masefield, who represents Crickhowell, said she had "significant concerns" about the review.
The options will be subject to an "engagement" process which will allow people to give their views on the proposals over the next six months.
Council education staff stressed the current model with all schools having their own sixth form was not "financially viable".
The need to address post-16 provision has also been highlighted by education watchdog Estyn in a scathing report on the department published in March.
One option could see a sixth form college set up with one board of governors and management team across two sites in Brecon and Newtown.
Similarly, a sixth form college would be based across Welsh medium all-through schools at Ysgol Bro Hyddgen in Machynlleth, Bro Caereinion in Llanfair Caereinion and potentially Builth Wells.
The Welsh medium sixth form would be run separately.
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Crickhowell has the biggest sixth form in Powys with many pupils coming from Monmouthshire and Blaenau Gwent.
"Crickhowell sixth form is operating incredibly successfully, bringing in students and funding from across the border and there's no argument to say that we should be closing it," Masefield said.
She warned "every single person in the area of Crickhowell" would object to the proposals.
Council Conservative group leader Aled Davies, who represents Llansilin and Llanrhaedr-ym-Mochnant, said he was concerned at the "lack of vision" of what Powys education could look like in 15 to 20 years' time.
Davies said successful sixth forms could be "swept up and lost" and that the work should focus on those sixth forms with small pupil numbers.
Sue McNicholas, who represents Ynyscedwyn near Ystradgynlais, said the area would lose pupils "in droves" across the border.
Plaid Cymru's Bryn Davies who represents Banwy, Llanfihangel and Llanwddyn, said for many school pupils in the north of Powys, Newtown is a distant place.
He said: "The only central location in the north I can see at the moment for this is in Welshpool, which was the old (Montgomeryshire) county town.
"It would be much more suitable for an English medium sixth form."
He asked whether this could be put forward as a potential option to be considered.
Dr Richard Jones, director of education, told the committee there had been "thorough engagement" ahead of the model being introduced and that "learning from that" had been taken onboard.
Dr Jones said: "That's provided us with a framework for three options to go out to engagement".
He said he believed going out to engagement without options would take the council "back to that pre Powys Sixth point", which was rolled out in 2022 with a focus on collaboration between schools.
Recommendations from the committee will be added to the report which is expected to go before the Liberal Democrat and Labour cabinet for a decision later this month to start the engagement process.

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Miami Herald
2 hours ago
- Miami Herald
A daughter with DACA, a mother without papers, and a goodbye they can't bear
Michelle Valdes' mom thinks she sees immigration agents everywhere: in the lobby of the building where she cares for elderly clients, at the local outlet mall, on downtown corners. The fear is constant. Driving to work, going to the store —just leaving the house feels too risky for her. At work, while she cooks and cleans in her clients' homes, she listens as stories of immigration detentions, deportations and constantly changing laws and policies play loudly in English from the TV. The 67-year-old undocumented Colombian national who has lived in the United States for more than a third of her life has stopped driving completely, opting for Uber, and ducking down in the backseat when she sees police officers. As a Jehovah's Witness, she has chosen not to do her door-to-door ministry and only attends church on Zoom. But what keeps her up at night these days is that she will soon go without seeing her daughter, likely for close to a decade. She is preparing to leave the United States after 23 years, leaving behind her 31-year-old daughter, a DACA recipient or 'Dreamer' who came to the United States when she was 8 and is still in the process of gaining her green card. Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA, is a federal program that protects undocumented people who came to the U.S. as children from deportation. 'I don't want to feel like I'm going to be spending two months in some detention center in the middle of God knows where, where none of my family members see me,' she said in Spanish during an interview with the Herald. She asked not to use her name for this story because she fears she could be targeted. 'I'm done,' she said. Her daughter's immigration situation is also precarious, even though she is married to a U.S. citizen. His family, from Cuba, got lucky when they won the visa lottery. But her family did not have such luck. Valdes' family did what immigrants often do: They fled danger, asked for political asylum, hired lawyers and filed paperwork. And they lost. Last year, only 19.3% of Colombian asylum cases were approved, according to researchers at Syracuse University. Even in 2006, when violence was at a very high point in Colombia, only 32% of asylum cases were approved. Their family's story reveals the toll a constantly changing and exceedingly complicated immigration system has on families who tried to 'do the right thing' and legalize their status. Now, under President Trump's administration, which has ramped up enforcement and the optics around it, being undocumented has become even more hazardous. People who have been living and working in the shadows in the United States are now being forced to decide if the reward of seeking a better life is still worth the risk. And those who are following the rules are afraid the rules will keep changing. The mother has already started packing boxes. Denied asylum Valdes' mom had never heard of the American Dream. She said she had never even heard the phrase 'el sueño americano' before coming to the United States. The family fled Colombia in 2002, leaving behind comfort and status. Valdes' mother had been an architect in Cartagena, a city on the South American nation's Caribbean coast. The family had a driver, a cook and a nanny. But violence by the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia, the rebel group known as FARC, was encroaching on their lives: armed robbery at their home, threatening calls and the kidnapping of her cousin, a wealthy businessperson. The family was forced to pay a ransom for his release. The early 2000s in Colombia, under President Andrés Pastrana, were years of intense violence by guerrilla gangs such as the FARC, who targeted wealthier Colombians. 'They would just pick up anybody who they believed they could get money from,' said Valdes. Her aunt would often call Valdes' mom from Florida, telling her their family would be safer here. The family arrived on a tourist visa in 2002, found a lawyer and applied for asylum. It was denied in 2004. Under U.S. immigration policy, people who have suffered persecution due to factors such as race, religion, nationality, membership to a social group, or political opinion can apply for asylum. It must be filed within a year of arrival in the United States. Valdes' family's interview did not go well and they were placed in removal proceedings. They appealed and in 2006 took the case to the U.S. Board of Immigration Appeals. The family's asylum application claimed that Valdes' mom would be killed by the FARC guerilla gang if she returned to Colombia, in connection with her cousin's kidnapping. But the court ultimately found holes in her case, and said her fear is not well founded and that she failed to prove that she would be in danger if she returned to Colombia. Their final motion was denied in part because it was filed 45 days late, according to the court filing. Valdes was just 11 years old when the courts denied her family's final plea to stay in the United States. The family was issued removal orders. 'I feel like I made a mistake asking for asylum,' said Valdes' mother. 'I wasn't guided well because I was scared and didn't know what to do.' She says predatory lawyers charged her close to $40,000 but never told her the truth about her odds of winning the case. 'It's pure show,' she said in Spanish. 'I believed they would help, but they did nothing.' By then, Valdes and her brothers were attending public schools in West Palm Beach, a right undocumented children have because of a supreme court ruling which passed narrowly in the early '80s. 'I just kind of poured my whole life into school, just to kind of distract myself from other things going on in life, specifically with immigration,' she said. In fifth grade, she won the science fair. At Roosevelt Middle School she was in the pre-med program and the national junior honor society. She always had A's and B's in school. But when her middle school national honor society was invited to Australia, she had to stay behind, unable to travel because she was undocumented. At Suncoast Community High School, she was invited to sing in a choir concert in Europe, but again, she could not go. In 2007, ICE detained Valdes' parents and her eldest brother. Her other brother and Valdes were picked up from school and reunited with their parents at the ICE office. Valdes' mom said the officer told her that since the family had a removal order, they needed to deport at least one person to prove they completed their quota for the day. But to this day, Valdes and her mother can't fully explain why the father was deported but they were released. Was it luck? Did the ICE officers sympathize with their family? Then 13, Valdes remembers standing in the Miami immigration office as agents took her father away. 'He was wearing jeans, a tan coat and a gray-blue fisherman's hat,' she said. 'What I remember the most is that there was, like, some sort of feeling that I got, that I knew that I was never gonna see him again.' He was deported in January of 2007, when Valdes was in seventh grade. It was the only semester she ever failed in school, she said. Her father died at 69 in Colombia in 2022. A petition for him to get legal status and return to the U.S., filed on his behalf of his son from a previous marriage, was approved a year after his death, said Valdes. '17 years too late,' she said, in tears. DACA as a lifeline In 2012, Valdes and her mother were preparing to leave the United States for good. Flights were booked. Boxes mailed. Then, just 14 days before departure, President Obama announced the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. The program was meant to protect children like Valdes, who came to the U.S. at a young age. Valdes was 18. Her phone lit up with messages from people in her community who knew she was undocumented. She applied that October. As a 'Dreamer,' or DACA recipient, she's protected from deportation and able to work legally — but can't travel outside the country. Her two older brothers, Ricardo and Jean Paul, had already left the country by then. After attending public schools and graduating from high school, the brothers could not attend college or find work. So in 2011, they returned to Colombia, and their mother sent them money to attend university. They both still live there and haven't seen their mom in 14 years. Valdes' situation was slightly better, but without legal permanent residency, she didn't qualify for most scholarships. The one scholarship she did get was a $4,000 scholarship from the Global Education Center at Palm Beach State, but $1,500 was deducted in taxes because she was considered a foreign student. Starting in 2014, Florida universities provided in-state tuition waivers for undocumented students under certain conditions. But because Valdes didn't enroll in college within a year of graduating from high school, she lost access to the waiver. That waiver was recently canceled in Florida for undocumented students, and starting July 1, at least 6,500 DACA recipients in Florida enrolled in public universities will have to pay the out-of-state tuition rate. 'When people asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I would ask for money to pay my tuition,' she said. Throughout those years, people would come to Valdes asking for help filling out their work permit applications, DACA applications and other legal forms, and they would say, 'Wow, you are so good at it.' Although she never wanted to do anything law or immigration related, she kept getting pulled in that direction, and decided to get her paralegal certificate, Valdes said. She now works at an immigration law office. Her plan is to go to law school after getting hands on training. 'I always thought: When I turn 18, I'm an adult — 'why am I still tied to my mom's case?' ' she said. 'But nobody explained it.' At her job in the law office, she finally learned the full truth of her case. Her name is still listed on her mother's asylum application — the case that was denied in 2006. So she still had a final removal order connected to her name. That case, and its order of removal, still haunts her. Although she's married to a U.S. citizen, it will take her years to adjust her status to get a green card and permanent residency status. The process will involve her husband filing petitions and waivers explaining that it would be an extreme hardship for him if she were deported. Valdes will have to leave the country and re-enter. In all, the process could take around eight years. Former president Joe Biden had a program to help people like Valdes, whose family is of 'mixed-status' but the program was shut down by Republicans. Immigration attorneys say there are fewer and fewer pathways for people married to U.S. citizens to legalize their status. The roadblocks and complications frustrate Valdes to tears. Valdes said that it is not fair that 'under our immigration system, a child, at such a young age, has to suffer the consequences of the parents' mistakes.' 'No es justo, no es justo,' she said, crying. It's not fair. But immigration laws, enforcement and policies are changing every day. 'People say 'get in line, get in line, get in line,' and then you get in line, and it's like, 'Oh, too bad, you don't apply with that anymore, or we're just going to change the laws. Or, you know, you aged out, or you didn't submit by this day,' said Valdes. In the past weeks, ICE agents across the nation have even begun detaining people as they exit immigration courthouses. Some are individuals with final orders of deportation like Valdes and her mom. Just this week, the Supreme Court ruled that President Trump can revoke humanitarian parole for over 500,000 migrants from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela. President Trump has spoken favorably of DACA recipients, but nonetheless, 'Dreamers' still have to reapply every two years, and there is no guarantee their right to legally be in the U.S. will not be revoked. Immigration attorneys say DACA could be the next program to be shut down by the Supreme Court. 'How shaky is DACA? How solid is it?' Valdes asked. Same fear, different country Valdes' mom says she now feels the same fear in the United States as she did in Colombia — maybe worse. 'I'm scared. Terrified,' she said. 'I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, always on alert.' For years, she tried to hold on. But after 23 years, she's tired of living in limbo. Valdes and her mom try not to think much about the fact that they are leaving each other, focusing more on the present and getting through each day. Valdes' mom says her ultimate goal was always for her daughter to get an education in the United States, and now that her daughter has a job, a husband, and is planting roots, she feels like she can go and let her daughter live her life. She left Colombia because she was 'tired of being followed. I was tired of being paranoid. I was tired of never being able to have my freedom, to just live, because I was always so scared. And fast forward, 23 years later, I'm just in the same boat in a different country,' she said. The hardest part for Valdes is imagining being pregnant and then giving birth without her mom by her side. But, she says, 'Now I tell her, I totally understand. It's your turn to finish living your life, Mom. I want her to be at peace, and I want her to rest.' As her mother prepares to leave, Michelle is left with the frustration of knowing that there's nothing she can do. 'I am still helpless. I still can't help her. I still can't help myself. It's a looming darkness you carry every day,' said Valdes.


Axios
15 hours ago
- Axios
D.C. schools are banning cellphones, joining almost half of the nation
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New York Post
16 hours ago
- New York Post
High schooler arrested by ICE on his way to volleyball practice freed after 6 days in ‘humiliating' conditions
A Massachusetts high school student who was arrested by immigration agents on his way to volleyball practice has been released from custody after a judge granted him bond Thursday. Marcelo Gomes da Silva, 18, who came to the U.S. from Brazil at age 7, was detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents Saturday. Authorities have said the agents were looking for the Milford High School teenager's father, who owns the car Gomes da Silva was driving at the time and had parked in a friend's driveway Advertisement 5 Marcelo Gomes da Silva speaks to reporters after being released from ICE detention. AP Speaking with members of the media outside the detention center shortly after his release on $2,000 bond, Gomes da Silva described 'humiliating' conditions and said his faith helped him through his six days of detention. On his wrist, he wore a bracelet made from the thin sheet of metallic blanket he was given to sleep on the cement floor. 'I'll always remember this place,' he said. 'I'll always remember how it was.' Advertisement His lawyer, Robin Nice, told reporters after the hearing in Chelmsford that his arrest 'shouldn't have happened in the first place. This is all a waste.' 'We disrupted a kid's life. We just disrupted a community's life,' Nice said. 'These kids should be celebrating graduation and prom, I assume? They should be doing kid stuff, and it is a travesty and a waste of our judicial process to have to go through this.' She said Gomes da Silva was confined to a room holding 25 to 35 men, many twice his age, most of the time he was detained, with no windows, time outside, privacy to use the restroom or permission to shower. Advertisement 5 Supporters gather outside federal court in support of the teen who was detained by ICE last weekend. AP Nice said that at one point Gomes da Silva, who is active in his local church, asked for a Bible and was denied. Gomes da Silva, who said his father taught him to 'put other people first,' said many of the men imprisoned with him didn't speak English and didn't understand why they were there. He had to inform some of them they were being deported, and then watched them break down in tears. Advertisement 'I told every single inmate down there: When I'm out, if I'm the only one who was able to leave that place, I lost,' he said. 'I want to do whatever I can to get them as much help as possible. If they have to be deported, so be it. But in the right way, in the right conditions. Because no one down there is treated good.' 5 da Silva was confined to a room holding 25 to 35 men, many twice his age, most of the time he was detained, with no windows, time outside, privacy to use the restroom or permission to shower. AP He said some days, he was given only crackers to eat, which he shared with cellmates. His first stop after being released was for McDonald's chicken nuggets and french fries. Not ICE's target, but detained anyway U.S. Department of Homeland Security spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin said earlier this week ICE officers were targeting a 'known public safety threat' and Gomes da Silva's father 'has a habit of reckless driving at speeds in excess of 100 miles per hour through residential areas.' 'While ICE officers never intended to apprehend Gomes da Silva, he was found to be in the United States illegally and subject to removal proceedings, so officers made the arrest,' she said in a statement. Acting ICE Director Todd Lyons said Monday that 'like any local law enforcement officer, if you encounter someone that has a warrant or … he's here illegally, we will take action on it.' 5 According to U.S. Department of Homeland Security spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin, Gomes da Silva's father 'has a habit of reckless driving at speeds in excess of 100 miles per hour through residential areas.' AP Upon his release, Gomes da Silva pushed back on ICE's characterizations of his father: 'Everything I got was from my dad. He's a good person. He never did anything wrong.' Advertisement When he was able to call his parents during his detainment, Gomes da Silva said his father sobbed and told him the family was scared to leave the house. Gomes da Silva initially entered the country on a visitor visa and was later issued a student visa that has since lapsed, Nice said. He told reporters he didn't know his immigration status until he was arrested. Advertisement He said an officer asked him, 'Do you know why you were arrested?' He said no. 'I told her, ma'am, I was 7 years old. I don't know nothing about that stuff,' he recalled. 'I don't understand how it works.' Nice described him as deeply rooted in his community and a dedicated member of both the school marching band and a band at his church. The immigration judge set a placeholder hearing date for a couple of weeks from Thursday, but it might take place months from that, Nice said. Advertisement 'We're optimistic that he'll have a future in the United States,' she said. A shaken community 'I love my son. We need Marcelo back home. It's no family without him,' João Paulo Gomes Pereira said in a video released Wednesday. 'We love America. Please, bring my son back.' The video showed the family in the teen's bedroom. Gomes da Silva's sister describes enjoying watching movies with her brother and the food he cooks for her: 'I miss everything about him.' Students at Milford High staged a walkout Monday to protest his detainment. Advertisement Other supporters packed the stands of the high school gymnasium Tuesday night, when the volleyball team dedicated a match to their missing teammate. 5 Milford High students staged a walkout in protest of Marcelo's detainment. AP Amani Jack, a recent Milford High graduate, said her classmate's absence loomed large over the graduation ceremony, where he was supposed to play in the band. She said if she had a chance to speak with the president, she'd ask him to 'put yourself in our shoes.' 'He did say he was going to deport criminals,' she said. 'Marcelo is not a criminal. He's a student. I really want him to take a step in our shoes, witnessing this. Try and understand how we feel. We're just trying to graduate high school.' Veronica Hernandez, a family advocate from Medford who said she works in a largely Hispanic community where ICE has had an active presence, said cases like Gomes da Silva's show immigration enforcement is serious about taking 'anybody' without legal status, not just those accused of crimes. 'I think seeing that something so simple as a child driving themselves and their friends to volleyball practice at risk struck a chord,' she said.