Seven years after arriving in Trinidad and Tobago with her Venezuelan family, ten-year-old Ashley Mendez is still asking her mother when she will be allowed to go to school.
Her question, reported in a Sunday Guardian investigation, should shame a country that has repeatedly promised inclusion while leaving children waiting.
Ashley arrived here at three. Her mother, Genesis Mendez, has spent years trying to secure a primary school place. The Ministry of Education acknowledged her application and identified schools where space was reportedly available. Talparo RC School later confirmed it would accept Ashley, subject to a student permit and ministry direction.
Then the system failed her. Her documents were lost, a new application went unanswered, and the Ministry of Homeland Security never issued the permit. A child’s education has effectively been suspended between government offices.
This is not an isolated administrative mishap. It is the human face of a policy failure that has persisted despite years of appeals, recommendations and assurances.
The 2019 migrant registration framework allowed Venezuelan adults to live and work here but did not open public schools to their children. A parallel education programme assisted thousands before being suspended. In 2023, the Government announced that migrant children would enter the national school system.
Yet, the first public-school intake did not occur until September 2024, and eligibility was restricted to children whose parents registered in 2019 and renewed their status annually. Of 148 applicants, only 60 initially qualified.
The Sunday Guardian’s reporting shows how little that breakthrough resolved. Families have faced lost paperwork, unanswered applications, permit uncertainty, language barriers and the costs of transport, uniforms and books. Some have resorted to private schools, homeschooling or online lessons. None is a dependable substitute for equitable access to classrooms and trained teachers.
The numbers demand urgency. Of 16,523 Venezuelan migrants registered in 2021, at least 4,400 children should have been in school. A June 2026 UN account found only about 50 refugee and migrant children enrolled in national schools, not all Venezuelan. The latest registration exercise, meanwhile, recorded 16,829 Venezuelan children among applicants. The precise number currently excluded must be established, but the gulf between need and access is unmistakable.
The Government cannot answer this failure by pointing to NGOs providing alternative education. Community organisations and UN agencies have carried an extraordinary burden, but they cannot substitute for the State.
Nor should a child’s education depend on parents navigating narrow deadlines, costly documentation and permits that can remain unresolved for years.
A parliamentary committee has already called for a student-permit waiver and urged that migrant children face no unnecessary barriers.
The Government must now act: process permits promptly, remove administrative obstacles and provide meaningful access to schools, with appropriate language and learning support.
Education is a basic human right, not a reward for perfect paperwork.
Ashley is ten. Trinidad and Tobago has already kept her waiting far too long.
