Juvenile Justice Information Exchange (https://jjie.org/prominence/homepage-featured/page/38/)
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Be it with outrage or eye-rolling, most of us were confounded by the spectacle of college students indulging in spring break rituals — where social distancing is definitely not on the cocktail listing.
As the coronavirus filled up hospitals across Louisiana, three youth in one dormitory at the Swanson Center for Youth in Monroe became feverish.
We remember thinking just a few weeks before COVID-19 that everything was all just too much. There was too much on the schedule, we needed to be in three places at once, and everything and everyone was demanding our undivided attention.
In the 18 years Paul Tutwiler has led the Northwest Jacksonville Community Development Corporation in Florida, the organization has tried a variety of strategies to reduce the neighborhood’s high levels of violent crime, all of them in collaboration with the local sheriff’s office. None have worked.
The continued criminalization of youth experiencing commercial sexual exploitation in the United States has resulted in an over-representation in the juvenile justice system that requires robust and immediate response mechanisms.
Protests can have peculiar sounds and vibrations. There are sensations that only people who take part in them can feel or talk about, they say. There’s a palpable electricity coursing through the air and the crowd.
Children in juvenile hall have food security and shelter, unlike many of us. COVID-19 has stolen these basics from countless among us, including families of kids in custody. Worry is constant. Routines are disrupted. Our elders are likely isolated from loved ones.
For more than a month, as the coronavirus pandemic swept through Louisiana, detained juveniles sat in the nearby juvenile jail while Orleans Parish Juvenile Court’s courtrooms — both virtual and real — sat empty.
Orange County in North Carolina has two school districts. One is much tougher than the other on students caught with marijuana on campus.
It was his first time at a protest. Many thoughts crossed the mind of Eithan Roy, a 16-year-old boy from the Bronx, on the train ride to Brooklyn, Friday afternoon. One of them was the memory of his aunt, who went out and protested the killing of Trayvon Martin in 2012 and told him about it.