The un­solved mur­der of teenage foot­baller Mari­ah Seenath on Sep­tem­ber 20 is a painful re­minder that many un­der­priv­i­leged chil­dren in Trinidad and To­ba­go live un­seen among the priv­i­leged, their strug­gles ig­nored un­til tragedy strikes.

At the Debe Hin­du School, prin­ci­pal Usha Ram­per­sad has made it her mis­sion to en­sure no child un­der her care goes un­no­ticed. Her school is a mod­est com­pound that floods an­nu­al­ly be­cause it sits next to a riv­er on SS Erin Road in Debe. It serves over 400 chil­dren, many from low-in­come fam­i­lies where un­em­ploy­ment and so­cial is­sues run deep.

Speak­ing to Guardian Me­dia, Ram­per­sad said many of her stu­dents are “un­seen” by wider so­ci­ety.

“Al­though peo­ple think Debe is full of busi­ness and ac­tiv­i­ty, the truth is we have many fam­i­lies strug­gling just to make ends meet,” Ram­per­sad said. “We have chil­dren with dis­abil­i­ties, sin­gle-par­ent homes, par­ents who can’t af­ford trans­port or books. If the school doesn’t reach out— who will?”

Ram­per­sad said she makes it her busi­ness to know every child’s sto­ry. She has cre­at­ed what she calls a “so­cio-eco­nom­ic map” of her school, track­ing where par­ents work, who is un­em­ployed, and which chil­dren are at risk. Teach­ers are re­quired to raise a red flag if a child is ab­sent for more than three days.

“By day three, I want to know why a child is miss­ing,” she said. “Some­times it’s be­cause there’s no bus fare. Some­times there’s no food in the house. Some­times the child just needs some­one to care enough to ask.”

She said she holds termly meet­ings with par­ents—not as for­mal con­fer­ences, but as what she de­scribes as “hid­den work­shops” on par­ent­ing, life skills, and sup­port. “Many par­ents are em­bar­rassed to say they’re strug­gling. So I bring them in un­der the guise of a school ses­sion—and we talk. We try to help them qui­et­ly, with dig­ni­ty,” she said.

Ram­per­sad, who knew Mari­ah through school sports events, still re­mem­bers her as a de­ter­mined, joy­ful child, and she praised the staff at San Fer­nan­do East Sec­ondary for help­ing Mari­ah achieve her full po­ten­tial be­fore her life was snuffed out.

Ram­per­sad be­lieves that the Min­istry of Ed­u­ca­tion must im­ple­ment so­cial da­ta track­ing across all schools. “It’s a sim­ple thing—col­lect in­for­ma­tion about each child’s home sit­u­a­tion, em­ploy­ment of par­ents, num­ber of sib­lings,” she said. “That’s how we iden­ti­fy who’s at risk. The school is of­ten the first place a child shows dis­tress—we must learn to see the signs.”

She al­so called for a more ac­tive School Sup­port Ser­vices Unit with­in the min­istry. “They should not on­ly re­spond af­ter some­thing hap­pens, but in­ter­vene ear­ly,” she said. “Out­reach of­fi­cers, coun­sel­lors, and NGOs must work to­geth­er. Ed­u­ca­tion is not just aca­d­e­mics—it’s so­cial sur­vival.”

That hands-on ap­proach has trans­formed her school’s at­ten­dance, be­hav­iour, and morale. But Ram­per­sad cred­its much of the new en­er­gy on the com­pound to the Rapid Fire Kidz Foun­da­tion, which last year built a colour­ful play­park be­hind the school.

Rapid Fire Kidz Foun­da­tion:
A blessed in­ter­ven­tion

“When the play­park went up last year, every­thing changed,” Ram­per­sad said. “Chil­dren start­ed com­ing to school ear­li­er, hap­pi­er. They look for­ward to be­ing here. It’s not just play — it’s joy, con­fi­dence, be­long­ing. The park gave them that.”

Last Sat­ur­day, the foun­da­tion cel­e­brat­ed the first an­niver­sary of the play­park with a Day of Fun—com­plete with a boun­cy cas­tle, games, and Lit­tle Cae­sars piz­za. Chil­dren from the La­dy Ho­choy Home in Pe­nal, the Is­lam­ic Home in Gas­par­il­lo, and the La Ro­maine Mi­grant Sup­port Group (LARMS) joined the fes­tiv­i­ties.

Foun­da­tion pres­i­dent Kevin Rati­ram said the event was part of a broad­er mis­sion to up­lift the na­tion’s most dis­ad­van­taged chil­dren. “Our foun­da­tion al­ways tries to tar­get those who are left be­hind—un­der­priv­i­leged, mi­grant, or spe­cial needs chil­dren,” Rati­ram said. “It’s no se­cret that the mi­grant pop­u­la­tion faces chal­lenges—they’re some­times mar­gin­alised, but they de­serve the same joy and op­por­tu­ni­ties as any oth­er child.”

He said the foun­da­tion is ex­pand­ing its ef­forts in col­lab­o­ra­tion with LARMS, help­ing to es­tab­lish a Mi­grant Learn­ing Cen­tre in San Fer­nan­do to serve chil­dren and adults who lack ac­cess to ed­u­ca­tion. “We’ve been as­sist­ing with the ren­o­va­tions of the build­ing,” he said. “Arazi Restau­rant in Port-of-Spain do­nat­ed $50,000 to help us. It’s a big step for­ward.”

The cen­tre, Rati­ram ex­plained, of­fers Eng­lish lit­er­a­cy class­es for adults in the evenings and aca­d­e­m­ic sup­port for chil­dren dur­ing the day. “Our fo­cus right now is ed­u­ca­tion,” he said. “Some of these chil­dren don’t speak Eng­lish. Help­ing them learn is the first step to­ward giv­ing them a fu­ture.”

While Rapid Fire Kidz has gained praise for its im­pact, Rati­ram said the needs of­ten out­weigh the re­sources. “We nev­er bite off more than we can chew,” he said. “But what­ev­er we do — whether it’s a learn­ing cen­tre or a play­park — we do it with heart.”

He hopes the Min­istry of Ed­u­ca­tion will see the val­ue in work­ing along­side NGOs like his. “We can reach the chil­dren faster than the sys­tem can. Schools, foun­da­tions, and the min­istry need to work hand in hand. If we don’t, we’ll keep los­ing chil­dren like Mari­ah — chil­dren who just need­ed some­one to see them.”

Help for mi­grants
— LARMS he­roes

For Ang­ie Ram­nar­ine, a co­or­di­na­tor with the La Ro­maine Mi­grant Sup­port Group, the strug­gles are even greater for mi­grant chil­dren, many of whom re­main un­doc­u­ment­ed and ex­clud­ed from main­stream school­ing.

She said part­ner­ships with or­gan­i­sa­tions like Rapid Fire are vi­tal be­cause they hu­man­ise chil­dren who have been re­duced to sta­tis­tics.

“These chil­dren are bril­liant — they have dreams, just like our own — but they live in fear,” Ram­nar­ine said. “Their par­ents can’t work legal­ly. They can’t at­tend pub­lic schools. Many live in cramped apart­ments, some­times with no toys, no books, no chance to just be kids.”

She said part­ner­ships with or­gan­i­sa­tions like Rapid Fire are vi­tal be­cause they hu­man­ise chil­dren who have been re­duced to sta­tis­tics. “We see them as chil­dren de­serv­ing of rights and dig­ni­ty, not through the lens­es of il­le­gal­i­ty,” Ram­nar­ine em­pha­sised. “They need to learn, to play, to feel safe. Every act of kind­ness — a school­book, a play­ground, a smile — is a piece of their heal­ing.”

Any­one want­i­ng to con­tribute to Rapid Fire Foun­da­tion can call Rati­ram at 767-0774 or Ram­nar­ine at 687-8072.