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Unseen Flames: The Quiet Toll on Students in a Community Still Burning

Jerell Hill | April 29, 2026



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A year after the Eaton fire, Altadena is rebuilding. (Getty Images)

After the Eaton fire, I went to see a friend in Altadena. He told me his neighbor saw the embers and came to wake him up. That neighbor saved his life. They spent the night watering down their properties, watching the flames move through the hills. Doing what neighbors do when everything is on fire and there is no time to wait for help.

He also told me about families who were not so lucky. People who drove down from Altadena in the middle of the night, dodging debris and flames, not knowing what they would find at the bottom of the hill. Some lost everything. Some still have not come back.

I grew up in Pasadena. Those stories hit differently when you know the streets. Altadena did not ask for this. Neither did its children.

The cameras leave. The trauma does not. It shows up in classrooms, in behavior, in silence.

More than a year later, the fires are no longer the lead story. But the children are still here. Displaced. Disrupted. Carrying weight that does not show up on a damage report.

A UCLA Pritzker Center study found the Eaton fire affected 225 children and young people, as well as damaging or destroying eight school campuses. Three months after the fire, one in six had relocated an average of 16 miles from home. School closures that lasted two to three weeks cut social ties and weakened their sense of belonging. UCLA’s Tyrone Howard, one of the country’s leading scholars on race and education, called for sustained mental health and academic support.

More than a year out, that call has not been answered loudly enough.

What damage reports miss is the interior architecture underneath it all. Trauma does not just move children physically. It disrupts the productive struggle they need to grow. It breaks down the cognitive tools they use to process information, manage stress and stay centered toward purpose. When that interior architecture collapses, learning stops. Behavior escalates. Silence fills the space where connection used to be.

The results are real. From August 2025 through March 2026, students reading below grade level dropped from 48.9% to 29.2%. Children who feel safe can learn. That is not a theory. That is what happened in Pasadena.

The broader community has refused to disappear. The Boys and Girls Club of Pasadena has distributed nearly $500,000 directly to fire-affected families. Care Coordinators meet one-on-one with 40 students each week and have created open spaces where any child can walk in and decompress.

More than 150 organizations formed the Eaton Fire Collaborative and built the Collaboratory, a hub in Altadena where survivors access case management, youth services and mental health support under one roof. The Altadena Town Council returned to in-person meetings. That is what a community looks like when it refuses to let go of itself.

The data is clear about who was hit hardest. These were disproportionately communities of color. California Attorney General Rob Bonta recently launched an investigation into racism’s role in the Eaton fire response. That investigation is necessary. Recovery cannot be color blind if the disaster was not.

Educators and community leaders need to hold three things at once:

  • Urgency: The need is now, not next fiscal year.
  • Direction: The community needs sustained healing, not short-term relief.
  •  Identity: These children are not defined by what they lost. They are brilliant, resilient and watching to see if we mean it.

Fund the mental health staff. Keep the after-school programs open. Show up on the days when no one is watching, because those are the days that matter most. When the community has compassion to build capacity, children heal. Pasadena has already proved it.

The families who drove down from Altadena that night did not know what they would find at the bottom of the hill. Their children are still figuring that out every single day.

And how is the community? That question deserves a policy answer, not just a prayer. California has the data, the organizations and the proof. Now it needs the sustained will to act.

Jerell Hill is dean of counseling and guided pathways at Los Angeles City College and founder of SIK Management Inc. He is a board member of the Boys and Girls Club of Pasadena and a lifelong resident of the greater Pasadena community.

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