by Jill Barshay, The Hechinger Report November 17, 2025
The teaching profession is one of the most female-dominated in the United States. Among elementary school teachers, 89 percent are women, and in kindergarten, that number is almost 97 percent.
Many sociologists, writers and parents have questioned whether this imbalance hinders young boys at the start of their education. Are female teachers less understanding of boys’ need to horse around? Or would male role models inspire boys to learn their letters and times tables? Some advocates point to research that lays out why boys ought to do better with male teachers.
But a new national analysis finds no evidence that boys perform or behave better with male teachers in elementary school. This challenges a widespread belief that boys thrive more when taught by men, and it raises questions about efforts, such as one in New York City, to spend extra to recruit them.
“I was surprised,” said Paul Morgan, a professor at the University at Albany and a co-author of the study. “I’ve raised two boys, and my assumption would be that having male teachers is beneficial because boys tend to be more rambunctious, more active, a little less easy to direct in academic tasks.”
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“We’re not saying gender matching doesn’t work,” Morgan added. “We’re saying we’re not observing it in K through fifth grade.”
Middle and high school students might see more benefits. Earlier research is mixed and inconclusive. A 2007 analysis by Stanford professor Thomas Dee found academic benefits for eighth-grade boys and girls when taught by teachers of their same gender.And studies where researchers observe and interview a small number of students often show how students feel more supported by same-gender teachers. Yet many quantitative studies, like this newest one, have failed to detect measurable benefits for boys. At least 10 since 2014 have found zero or minimal effects. Benefits for girls are more consistent.
Morgan and Hu analyzed a U.S. Education Department dataset that followed a nationally representative group of 8,000 students from kindergarten in 2010 through fifth grade in 2017. Half were boys and half were girls.
More than two-thirds — 68 percent — of the 4,000 boys never had a male teacher in those years while 32 percent had at least one. (The study focused only on main classroom teachers, not extras like gym or music.)
Among the 1,300 boys who had both male and female teachers, the researchers compared each boy’s performance and behavior across those years. For instance, if Jacob had female teachers in kindergarten, first, second and fifth grades, but male teachers in third and fourth, his average scores and behavior were compared between the teachers of different genders.
The researchers found no differences in reading, math or science achievement — or in behavioral and social measures. Teachers rated students on traits like impulsiveness, cooperation, anxiety, empathy and self-control. The children also took annual executive function tests. The results did not vary by the teacher’s gender.
Most studies on male teachers focus on older students. The authors noted one other elementary-level study, in Florida, that also found no academic benefit for boys. This new research confirms that finding and adds that there seems to be no behavioral or social benefits either.
For students at these young ages, 11 and under, the researchers also didn’t find academic benefits for girls with female teachers. But there were two non-academic ones: Girls taught by women showed stronger interpersonal skills (getting along, helping others, caring about feelings) and a greater eagerness to learn (represented by skills such as keeping organized and following rules).
When the researchers combined race and gender, the results grew more complex. Black girls taught by women scored higher on an executive function test but lower in science. Asian boys taught by men scored higher on executive function but had lower ratings on interpersonal skills. Black boys showed no measurable differences when taught by male teachers. (Previous research has sometimes found benefits for Black students taught by Black teachers and sometimes hasn’t.)**
Even if data show no academic or behavioral benefits for students, there may still be compelling reasons to diversify the teaching workforce, just as in other professions. But we shouldn’t expect these efforts to move the needle on student outcomes.
“If you had scarce resources and were trying to place your bets,” Morgan said, “then based on this study, maybe elementary school isn’t where you should focus your recruitment efforts” to hire more men.
To paraphrase Boyz II Men, it’s so hard to say goodbye — to the idea that young boys need male teachers.
*Clarification: The article has not yet been published in a peer-reviewed journal but has undergone some peer review.
**Correction: An earlier version incorrectly characterized how researchers analyzed what happened to students of different races. The researchers focused only on the gender of the teachers, but drilled down to see how students of different races responded to teachers of different genders.
This <a target=”_blank” href=”https://hechingerreport.org/proof-points-male-teachers-elementary-school/”>article</a> first appeared on <a target=”_blank” href=”https://hechingerreport.org”>The Hechinger Report</a> and is republished here under a <a target=”_blank” href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/”>Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src=”https://i0.wp.com/hechingerreport.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/cropped-favicon.jpg?fit=150%2C150&ssl=1″ style=”width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;”>
This story was produced in partnership with Teen Vogue and reprinted with permission.
Christopher Cade wants to be president someday. His inspiration largely comes from family members, who have been involved in local politics and activism since long before he was born. But policies from the Trump administration and the Ohio Legislature are complicating his college experience — and his plans to become a politician.
Cade is a student at Ohio State University double-majoring in public policy analysis and political science with a focus on American political theory. He recalls his maternal grandmother, Maude Hill — who had a large hand in raising him — talking to him about her involvement in the Civil Rights Movement. She also worked at Columbus, Ohio-based affordable housing development nonprofit, Homeport, and has gone to Capitol Hill to speak with the state delegation multiple times. His dad is the senior vice president of the housing choice voucher program at the Columbus Metropolitan Housing Authority, and his older brother has a degree in political science and is interested in social justice advocacy work, Cade said. Last fall, his first on campus, Cade began applying to opportunities to bolster his resume for a future career in politics.
The now 19-year-old secured an internship with the U.S. Department of Transportation and a work-study job on campus in the university’s Office of Diversity and Inclusion. But the federal opportunity was scrapped when the Trump administration imposed a hiring freeze and budget cuts. His campus job ended when the university announced it would “sunset” the diversity office in response to federal and state anti-diversity, equity and inclusion orders and actions, according to Cade.
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The work-study position was with the university’s Bell National Resource Center on the African American Male, which was founded to support Black men to stay in college. It’s a cause he was excited about.
“I would help order food or speak with students or do interviews,” said Cade. “I developed a good 20 different programs for the next year.”
In February, when the university announced it was closing the office, “I was like, ‘Well, so six months of work just for no reason,’” he said.
OSU President Ted Carter released a statement on Feb. 27 saying the closure of the Office of Diversity and Inclusion was a response to both state and federal actions regarding DEI in public education. The move eliminated 17 staff positions, not including student roles, the university said. Programming and services provided by the Office of Student Life’s Center for Belonging and Social Change were also scrapped.
The change came before the Trump administration’s initial deadline for complying with a memo that threatened to cut funding for public colleges and universities, as well as K-12 schools, that offer DEI programs and initiatives. In March, the administration announced that OSU was one of roughly 50 universities under federal investigation for allegedly discriminating against white and Asian students in graduate admissions. Additionally, Ohio Gov. Mike DeWine signed legislation in March banning DEI programs in the state’s public colleges and universities. The legislation went into effect in June.
Before the DEI office closed, Cade said, “I felt so heard and seen.” He’d attended a private, predominantly white, Catholic high school, he said. “It was not a place that supported me culturally and helped me understand more about who I am and my Blackness,” he recalled. At the university, though, “the programming we had throughout the year [was] about how to change the narrative on who a Black man is and what it means when you go out here and interact with people.
“And then for them to close down all these programs, that essentially told me that I wasn’t cared about.”
After the February announcement, students pushed back, organizing protests and a sit-in at the student union. But eventually, those efforts quieted.
Cade says students felt like there was a “cloud of darkness” hanging over them. But he also thought of his Office of Diversity and Inclusion coworkers, some of whom had spent decades working there, helping students. In particular he thought of his former colleague Chila Thomas, who celebrated her fifth anniversary last year as the executive director of the Young Scholars Program. That program, which helps low-income aspiring first-generation college students get to and through college, was one of several of the office’s programs that will continue. The day after Carter’s announcement, she and others in the office spent time giving students space to talk through their feelings, despite the uncertainties surrounding their own employment, Cade said.
Since the university crackdown on DEI, Cade said he’s experienced more discomfort on campus, even outright racism. He says he was approached by a white person who said, “I’m so glad they’re getting rid of DEI” and spit on his shoe and used a racial slur.
“I don’t know how that could ever be acceptable to anyone, but that was [when] a flip switched in my head,” Cade said. “I couldn’t sit down and be sad and silent. I had to stand up and make change.”
In March, he traveled with other students to Washington, D.C., as part of the Undergraduate Student Government’s Governmental Relations Committee. They met with Ohio Rep. Troy Balderson and an aide, along with staffers from the offices of fellow Ohio lawmakers Sen. Bernie Moreno and Rep. Joyce Beatty, to discuss college affordability, DEI policies and the federal hiring freeze. Cade says he described how he was affected by the U.S. Department of Transportation canceling his internship.
In Carter’s announcement, he stated that all student employees would be “offered alternative jobs at the university,” but Cade said during a meeting with Office of Diversity and Inclusion student employees, an OSU dean clarified that they would have to apply for new opportunities. With the policy changes meaning there were fewer work-study roles and more students in need of jobs, Cade saw the market as increasingly competitive, and he began to job hunt elsewhere. This summer he secured work with the Ohio Department of Transportation as a communications and policy intern. In October he began an intake assistant role in the Office of Civil Rights Compliance at the university. (Ohio State Director of Media and PR Chris Booker told Teen Vogue that the school could not comment on the experiences of individual students but that “all student employees and graduate associates impacted by these program changes were offered the opportunity to pursue transitioning into alternative positions at the university, as well as support in navigating that change.”)
Although he was drawn to OSU for the John Glenn College of Public Affairs’ master’s program, Cade says he might have reconsidered schools had he known that the university would bend to lawmakers’ anti-DEI efforts. While he’s concerned about how education-related legislation and policies may continue to affect his college experience, he worries most about some of his peers. College is already so hard to navigate for so many young people, said Cade. “And this is just another thing that says, ‘Oh yeah, this isn’t for me.’”
This story was published in partnership with Teen Vogue.
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by Sarah Carr, The Hechinger Report October 31, 2025
When I was a kindergartner in the 1980s, the “gifted” programming for my class could be found inside of a chest.
I don’t know what toys and learning materials lived there, since I wasn’t one of the handful of presumably more academically advanced kiddos that my kindergarten teacher invited to open the chest. My distinct impression at the time was that my teacher didn’t think I was worthy of the enrichment because I frequently spilled my chocolate milk at lunch and I had also once forgotten to hang a sheet of paper on the class easel — instead painting an elaborate and detailed picture on the stand itself. The withering look on my teacher’s face after seeing the easel assured me that, gifted, I was not.
The memory, and the enduring mystery of that chest, resurfaced recently when New York City mayoral front-runner Zohran Mamdani announced that if elected on Nov. 4, he would support ending kindergarten entry to the city’s public school gifted program. While many pundits and parents debated the political fallout of the proposal — the city’s segregated gifted program has for decades been credited with keeping many white and wealthier families in the public school system — I wondered what exactly it means to be a gifted kindergartner. In New York City, the determination is made several months before kindergarten starts, but how good is a screening mechanism for 4-year-olds at predicting academic prowess years down the road?
New York is not unique for opting to send kids as young as preschool down an accelerated path, no repeat display of giftedness required. It’s common practice at many private schools to try to measure young children’s academic abilities for admissions purposes. Other communities, including Houston and Miami, start gifted or accelerated programs in public schools as early as kindergarten, according to the National Center for Research on Gifted Education. When I reported on schools in New Orleans 15 years ago, they even had a few gifted prekindergarten programs at highly sought after public schools, which enrolled 4-year-olds whose seemingly stunning intellectual abilities were determined at age 3. It’s more common, however, for gifted programs in the public schools to start between grades 2 and 4, according to the center’s surveys.
There is an assumption embedded in the persistence of gifted programs for the littles that it’s possible to assess a child’s potential, sometimes before they even start school. New York City has followed a long and winding road in its search for the best way to do this. And after more than five decades, the city’s experience offers a case study in how elusive — and, at times, distracting — that quest remains.
Three main strategies are used to assign young children to gifted programs, according to the center. The most common path is cognitive testing, which attempts to rate a child’s intelligence in relation to their peer group. Then there is achievement testing, which is supposed to measure how much and how fast a child is learning in school. And the third strategy is teacher evaluations. Some districts use the three measures in combination with each other.
For nearly four decades, New York prioritized the first strategy, deploying an ever-evolving array of cognitive and IQ tests on its would-be gifted 4-year-olds — tests that families often signed up for in search of competitive advantage as much as anything else.
Several years ago, a Brooklyn parent named Christine checked out an open house for a citywide gifted elementary school, knowing her child was likely just shy of the test score needed to get in. (Christine did not want her last name used to protect her daughter’s privacy.)
The school required her to show paperwork at the door confirming that her daughter had a relatively high score; and when Christine flashed the proof, the PTA member at the door congratulated her. That and the lack of diversity gave the school an exclusive vibe, Christine recalled.
“The resources were incredible,” she said. “The library was huge, there was a room full of blocks. It definitely made me envious, because I knew she was not getting in.” Yet years later, she feels “icky” about even visiting.
Eishika Ahmed’s parents had opportunities of all kinds in mind when they had her tested for gifted kindergarten nearly two decades ago. Ahmed, now 23, remembers an administrator in a small white room with fluorescent lights asking her which boat in a series of cartoonish pictures was “wide.” The then 4-year-old had no idea.
“She didn’t look very pleased with my answer,” Ahmed recalled. She did not get into the kindergarten program.
Related: Young children have unique needs and providing the right care can be a challenge. Our free early childhood education newsletter tracks the issues.
Equity and reliability have been long-running concerns for districts relying on cognitive tests.
In New York, public school parents in some districts were once able to pay private psychologists to evaluate their children — a permissiveness that led to “a series of alleged abuses,” wrote Norm Fruchter, a now-deceased activist, educator and school board leader in a 2019 article called “The Spoils of Whiteness: New York City’s Gifted and Talented Programs.”
In New Orleans, there was a similar disparity between the private and public testing of 3-year-olds when I lived and reported on schools there. Families could sit on a waitlist, sometimes for months, to take their children through the free process at the district central office. In 2008, the year I wrote about the issue, only five of the 153 3-year-olds tested by the district met the gifted benchmark. But families could also pay a few hundred dollars and go to a private tester who, over the same time period, identified at least 64 children as gifted. “I don’t know if everybody is paying,” one parent told me at the time, “but it defeats the purpose of a public school if you have to pay $300 to get them in.”
Even after New York City districts outlawed private testers, concerns persisted about parents paying for pricey and extensive test prep to teach them common words and concepts featured on the tests. Moreover, some researchers have worried about racial and cultural bias in cognitive tests more generally. Critics, Fruchter wrote, had long considered them at least partly to assess knowledge of the “reigning cultural milieu in which test-makers and applicants alike were immersed.”
Across the country, these concerns have led some schools and districts, including New York City, to shift to “nonverbal tests,” which try to assess innate capacity more than experience and exposure.
But those tests haven’t made cognitive testing more equitable, said Betsy McCoach, a professor of psychometrics and quantitative psychology at Fordham University and co-principal investigator at the National Center for Research on Gifted Education.
“There is no way to take prior experience out of a test,” she said. “I wish we could.” Children who’ve had more exposure to tests, problem-solving and patterns are still going to have an advantage on a nonverbal test, McCoach added.
And no test can overcome the fact that for very young children, scores can change significantly from year to year, or even week to week. In 2024, researchers analyzed more than 200 studies on the stability of cognitive abilities at different ages. They found that for 4-year-olds, cognitive test scores are not very predictive of long-term scores — or even, necessarily, short-term ones.
There’s not enough stability “to say that if we assess someone at age 4, 5, 6 or 7 that a child would or wouldn’t be well-served by being in a gifted program” for multiple years, said Moritz Breit, the lead author of the study and a post-doctoral researcher in the psychology department at the University of Trier in Germany.
Scores don’t start to become very consistent until later in elementary school, with stability peaking in late adolescence.
But for 4-year-olds? “Stability is too low for high-stakes decisions,” he said.
Eishika Ahmed is just one example of how early testing may not predict future achievement. Even though she did not enroll in the kindergarten gifted program, by third grade she was selected for an accelerated program at her school called “top class.”
Years later, still struck by the inequity of the whole process, she wrote a 2023 essay for the think tank The Century Foundation about it. “The elementary school a child attends shouldn’t have such significant influence over the trajectory of their entire life,” she wrote. “But for students in New York City public schools, there is a real pipeline effect that extends from kindergarten to college. Students who do not enter the pipeline by attending G&T programs at an early age might not have the opportunity to try again.”
Partly because of the concerns about cognitive tests, New York City dropped intelligence testing entirely in 2021 and shifted to declaring kindergartners gifted based on prekindergarten teacher recommendations. A recent article in Chalkbeat noted that after ending the testing for the youngest, diversity in the kindergarten gifted program increased: In 2023-24, 30 percent of the children were Black and Latino, compared to just 12 percent in 2020, Chalkbeat reported. Teachers in the programs also describe enrolling a broader range of students, including more neurodivergent ones.
The big problem, according to several experts, is that when hundreds of individual prekindergarten teachers evaluate 4-year-olds for giftedness, any consistency in defining it can get lost, even if the teachers are guided on what to look for.
“The word is drained of meaning because teachers are not thinking about the same thing,” said Sam Meisels, the founding executive director of the Buffett Early Childhood Institute at the University of Nebraska.
Breit said that research has found that teacher evaluations and grades for young children are less stable and predictive than the (already unstable) cognitive testing.
“People are very bad at looking at another person and inferring a lot about what’s going on under the hood,” he said. “When you say, ‘Cognitive abilities are not stable, let’s switch to something else,’ the problem is that there is nothing else to switch to when the goal is stability. Young children are changing a lot.”
No one denies that access to gifted programming has been transformative for countless children. McCoach, the Fordham professor, points out that there should be something more challenging for the children who arrive at kindergarten already reading and doing arithmetic, who can be bored moving at the regular pace.
In an ideal world, experts say, there would be universal screening for giftedness (which some districts, but not New York, have embraced), using multiple measures in a thoughtful way, and there would be frequent entry — and exit — points for the programs. In the early elementary years, that would look less like separate gifted programming and a lot more like meeting every kid where they are.
“The question shouldn’t really be: Are you the ‘Big G’?” said McCoach. “That sounds so permanent and stable. The question should be: Who are the kids who need something more than what we are providing in the curriculum?”
But in the real world, individualized instruction has frequently proved elusive with underresourced schools, large class sizes and teachers who are tasked with catching up the students who are furthest behind. That persistent struggle has provided advocates of gifted education in the early elementary years with what’s perhaps their most powerful argument in sustaining such programs — but it reminds me of that old adage about treating the symptom rather than the disease.
At some point a year or two after kindergarten, I did get the chance to be among the chosen when I was selected for a pull-out program known as BEEP. I have no recollection of how we were picked, how often we met or what we did, apart from a performance the BEEP kids held of St. George and the Dragon. I played St. George and I remember uttering one line, declaring my intent to fight the dragon or die. I also remember vividly how much being in BEEP boosted my confidence in my potential — probably its greatest gift.
Forty years later, the research is clear that every kid deserves the chance — and not just one — to slay a dragon. “You want to give every child the best opportunity to learn as possible,” said Meisels. But when it comes to separate gifted programming for select early elementary school students, “Is there something out there that says their selection is valid? We don’t have that.”
“It seems,” he added, “to be a case of people just fooling themselves with the language.”
This <a target=”_blank” href=”https://hechingerreport.org/were-testing-preschoolers-for-giftedness-experts-say-that-doesnt-work/”>article</a> first appeared on <a target=”_blank” href=”https://hechingerreport.org”>The Hechinger Report</a> and is republished here under a <a target=”_blank” href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/”>Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License</a>.<img src=”https://i0.wp.com/hechingerreport.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/cropped-favicon.jpg?fit=150%2C150&ssl=1″ style=”width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;”>
KISSIMMEE, Fla. — It’s not a rebrand. But the Moms for Liberty group that introduced itself three years ago as a band of female “joyful warriors” shedding domestic modesty to make raucous public challenges to masks, books and curriculum, is trying to glow up.
The group’s national summit this past weekend at a convention center outside Orlando leaned into family (read: parental rights), faith — and youth. The latter appeared to be a bid to join the cool kids who are the new face of conservatism in America (hint: young, Christian, very male), as well as a recognition of the group’s “diversity,” which includes grandparents, men and kids.
But even as the youth — including 20- and 30-something podcasters and social media influencers, as well as student members of the late Charlie Kirk’s Turning Point USA — brought a high-energy vibe, stalwart members got a new assignment. Where past Moms for Liberty attendees were urged to run for school board, this year they were encouraged to turn their grievances into legal challenges.
Moms for Liberty CEO and co-founder Tina Descovich acknowledged that while many of them had experienced backlashes as a result of running for school board or publicly challenging books, curricula and policies, they needed to continue the fight. (The more pugnacious co-founder, Tiffany Justice, is now at Heritage Action, an arm of right-wing think tank The Heritage Foundation.)
“You have lost family, you have lost friends, you have lost neighbors, you’ve lost jobs, you’ve lost whole careers,” she said. Yet she insisted that it was vital that they “shake off the shackles of fear and stand for truth or we are going to lose Western civilization as a whole.”
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The gathering held up “the free state of Florida” as an example of Republican policies to be emulated, including around school choice and parental rights. The state’s attorney general, James Uthmeier, boasted of having created a state Office of Parental Rights last spring, describing it as “a law firm for parents.”
He trumpeted the state’s lawsuit against Target over the “market risks” of LGBTQ+ pride-themed merchandise and encouraged parents to reach out with potential legal actions. “If you’re identifying one of these wrongs that’s violating your rights and then subjecting our kids to danger and evil, then we want to know about it,” he said. “And we’re going to bring the heat in court to shut it down.”
Tina Descovich, CEO and co-founder of Moms for Liberty, was interviewed on Real America’s Voice, a conservative news and entertainment network that set up a remote studio outside of the Sun Ballroom at the Moms for Liberty national summit. Credit: Laura Pappano for The Hechinger Report
The shifting legal landscape, not just in Florida but nationally, had speakers gushing about the opportunity to file new challenges, particularly in the wake of the Supreme Court decision in Mahmoud v. Taylor in June. It gives parents broad power to object to school materials, including with LGBTQ+ themes, and the right to remove their children from public school on days when such materials are discussed.
“This is where we need to take that big Supreme Court victory and start fleshing it out,” said Matt Sharp, senior counsel at Alliance Defending Freedom, a Christian law firm. He added that they were “needing warriors, joyful warriors, to file cases to start putting meat on the bones of what that does.”
The directive to file suit was not just around opt-out policies, which were the basis for the Mahmoud case. (Moms for Liberty has opt-out forms and instructions on its website.) Rather, attendees were also urged to file lawsuits in support of school prayer; against school policies that let students use different names and pronouns without parental consent (what Moms for Liberty terms “secret transitions”); and to give parents access to surveys students take at school, including around mental health.
“We need people willing to stand up legally and be, you know, named plaintiffs,” Kimberly S. Hermann, president of the Southeastern Legal Foundation, a conservative policy group, said on a panel featuring two moms who sued their school districts. Winning a lawsuit or even just bringing one in one state, said Hermann, can get other school districts and states to adopt policies, presumably to avoid lawsuits themselves.
“One offensive litigation can have this amazing ripple effect,” she said. She and others made clear that there is staff to provide support. The legal groups will “stand with you,” said Sharp, “whether you’re passing the law or passing the local policy all the way to litigating these cases.”
Even as speakers criticized public schools particularly around LGBTQ+ issues, not as a form of inclusion but as foisting views into classrooms, they relished the chance to infuse their values into schools.
Filing these lawsuits is more than “just fighting for your role as parents,” Sharp told parents in a breakout session. “You’re ultimately fighting for your kids’ ability to be in their schools and make a difference, to be the salt and light in those classrooms with their friends and to take our message of freedom, of faith, of justice and to really spread it all across the schools.”
Overall, this year’s Moms for Liberty event lacked the obvious drama of recent years. The flood of protesters in 2023 in Philadelphia required a large police presence and barricades around the hotel, along with warnings not to wear Moms for Liberty lanyards on the streets.
This year, there were no protests. That was partly because the event was held in a secluded resort convention center that could accommodate 800 (larger than the 500-ish of past hotels). But the group failed to fill the venue or attract much media attention. There was on-location broadcast by Real America’s Voice, a conservative news and entertainment network, from a set outside the Sun Ballroom. (Steve Bannon interviewed Descovich on his show, “The War Room.”)
It also didn’t draw opposition because protesters had a bigger target. Saturday saw “No Kings” rallies across the country, with thousands decrying what they see as President Donald Trump’s authoritarianism. “I forgot it was happening since they’re mostly ignored these days,” state Sen. Carlos Guillermo Smith, (D-Orlando) and a senior advisor to LGBTQ+ rights group Equality Florida, said in a text message about the Moms for Liberty event. Liz Mikitarian, founder of the national group, Stop Moms for Liberty, which is based in Florida, said the moms “are still a threat” but not worth organizing a protest against.
It was also a quieter affair than last year’s in Washington, D.C. There, Trump’s appearance fed a party atmosphere with Southern rock, sequined MAGA outfits and a cash bar. (This year, Trump appeared, but only in a prerecorded video message.)
Sequined merchandise for sale at the Moms for Liberty gathering by the company Make America Sparkle Again included tops and jackets that paid tribute to Charlie Kirk, the slain founder of Turning Point USA. Credit: Laura Pappano for The Hechinger Report
The three-day event, of course, aired familiar grievances in familiarly florid language — conservative school choice activist Corey DeAngelis railed against teacher unions over the “far-left radical agenda that they’re trying to push down children’s throats in the classroom.” Other sessions covered the expected — the alleged dangers of LGBTQ+ policies, in sports, restrooms, school curricula and books — but there was also discussion of concerns (shared on left and right) over youth screen use, online predators and artificial intelligence.
The event made room for MAHA, the Make America Healthy Again movement led by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the secretary of Health and Human Services. Descovich interviewed Dr. Joseph Ladapo, the Florida surgeon general who is working to eliminate all vaccine mandates for the state’s schoolchildren.
But the move by Moms for Liberty to attract young conservatives elevated the energy in the room. It was apparent not only in a tribute to Kirk, the slain founder ofTurning Point USA, which trains young conservatives on high school and college campuses. About 40 Florida TPUSA members took the ballroom stage to accept the “Liberty Sword,” the group’s highest honor, posthumously awarded to Kirk.
It also showed up in a breakout session of mostly conservative social media influencers and podcasters who offered tips on using humor and handling online trolls: Lydia Shaffer (aka the Conservative Barbie 2.0), Alex Stein, Gates Garcia, Kaitlin Bennett, Angela Belcamino (known as “The Bold Lib,” who said she was surprised to have been invited), and Jayme Franklin, who in addition to her podcast is the Gen Z founder of The Conservateur, a conservative lifestyle brand that The New Yorkercalled “Vogue, But for Trumpers.”
They have built huge followings based on their compulsion to provoke. “We need to go back to biblical values of what it means to be a real man and what it means to be a real woman,” urged Franklin. “People want that guidance, and that needs to begin at church. We need to push people back into the pews.”
Their inclusion, like that of conservative commentator Benny Johnson, who moderated a panel, “Fathers: The Defenders of the Family,” appeared to recognize a need to expand the base — and be edgier. Johnson charged out on stage and trumpeted that “God’s first commandment to us was, ‘Go, be fruitful, multiply.’ Go make babies!!!!” He quipped that “right-wing moms, they’re happier, right?” and asked the crowd, “Any trad wife moms out there?”
The phrase is shorthand for a woman who embraces a traditional domestic role, often with an emphasis on fashion and style. Johnson — who credited Kirk for prodding him to find Jesus, get married and become a father (he has four children) — argued that Republicans, especially those in Gen Z, should embrace the traditional nuclear family identity as a winning political move.
“We are the party of parents. We are the party of children,” he said, adding that traditional values were already dominating culture and politics. “We live in a center-right country. And I’m tired of pretending that we don’t,” he said, and showed a map of red and blue votes in the 2024 presidential election. “This is the shift. You live in a red kingdom.”
Contact editor Caroline Preston at 212-870-8965, via Signal at CarolineP.83 or on email at [email protected].
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
Thirty states now limit or ban cellphone use in classrooms, and teachers are noticing children paying attention to their lessons again. But it’s not clear whether this policy — unpopular with students and a headache for teachers to enforce — makes an academic difference.
If student achievement goes up after a cellphone ban, it’s tough to know if the ban was the reason. Some other change in math or reading instruction might have caused the improvement. Or maybe the state assessment became easier to pass. Imagine if politicians required all students to wear striped shirts and test scores rose. Few would really think that stripes made kids smarter.
Two researchers from the University of Rochester and RAND, a nonprofit research organization, figured out a clever way to tackle this question by taking advantage of cellphone activity data in one large school district in Florida, which in 2023 became the first state to institute school cellphone restrictions. The researchers compared schools that had high cellphone activity before the ban with those that had low cellphone usage to see if the ban made a bigger difference for schools that had high usage.
Indeed, it did.
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Student test scores rose a bit more in high cellphone usage schools two years after the ban compared with schools that had lower cellphone usage to start. Students were also attending school more regularly.
The policy also came with a troubling side effect. The cellphone bans led to a significant increase in student suspensions in the first year, especially among Black students. But disciplinary actions declined during the second year.
“Cellphone bans are not a silver bullet,” said David Figlio, an economist at the University of Rochester and one of the study’s co-authors. “But they seem to be helping kids. They’re attending school more, and they’re performing a bit better on tests.”
Figlio said he was “worried” about the short-term 16 percent increase in suspensions for Black students. What’s unclear from this data analysis is whether Black students were more likely to violate the new cellphone rules, or whether teachers were more likely to single out Black students for punishment. It’s also unclear from these administrative behavior records if students were first given warnings or lighter punishments before they were suspended.
The data suggest that students adjusted to the new rules. A year later, student suspensions, including those of Black students, fell back to what they had been before the cellphone ban.
“What we observe is a rocky start,” Figlio added. “There was a lot of discipline.”
The study, “The Impact of Cellphone Bans in Schools on Student Outcomes: Evidence from Florida,” is a draft working paper and has not been peer-reviewed. It was slated to be circulated by the National Bureau of Economic Research on Oct. 20 and the authors shared a draft with me in advance. Figlio and his co-author Umut Özek at RAND believe it is the first study to show a causal connection between cellphone bans and learning rather than just a correlation.
The academic gains from the cellphone ban were small, less than a percentile point, on average. That’s the equivalent of moving from the 50th percentile on math and reading tests (in the middle) to the 51st percentile (still close to the middle), and this small gain did not emerge until the second year for most students. The academic benefits were strongest for middle schoolers, white students, Hispanic students and male students. The academic gains for Black students and female students were not statistically significant.
I was surprised to learn that there is data on student cellphone use in school. The authors of this study used information from Advan Research Corp., which collects and analyzes data from mobile phones around the world for business purposes, such as figuring out how many people visit a particular retail store. The researchers were able to obtain this data for schools in one Florida school district and estimate how many students were on their cellphones before and after the ban went into effect between the hours of 9 a.m. and 1 p.m.
The data showed that more than 60 percent of middle schoolers, on average, were on their phones at least once during the school day before the 2023 ban in this particular Florida district, which was not named but described as one of the 10 largest districts in the country. (Five of the nation’s 10 largest school districts are in Florida.) After the ban, that fell in half to 30 percent of middle schoolers in the first year and down to 25 percent in the second year.
Elementary school students were less likely to be on cellphones to start with and their in-school usage fell from about 25 percent of students before the ban to 15 percent after the ban. More than 45 percent of high schoolers were on their phones before the ban and that fell to about 10 percent afterwards.
Average daily smartphone visits in schools, by year and grade level
Average daily smartphone visits during regular school days (relative to teacher workdays without students) between 9am and 1pm (per 100 enrolled students) in the two months before and then after the 2023 ban took effect in one large urban Florida school district. Source: Figlio and Özek, October 2025 draft paper, figure 2C, p. 23.
Florida did not enact a complete cellphone ban in 2023, but imposed severe restrictions. Those restrictions were tightened in 2025 and that additional tightening was not studied in this paper.
Anti-cellphone policies have become increasingly popular since the pandemic, largely based on our collective adult gut hunches that kids are not learning well when they are consumed by TikTok and SnapChat.
This is perhaps a rare case in public policy, Figlio said, where the “data back up the hunches.”
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
When a member of staff claimed their course reading list was “diverse” because it included authors from the UK, North America, and Australia, it captured something problematic in higher education: an entrenched Eurocentric worldview dressed as global perspective.
Despite growing sector-wide commitments to equity, diversity and inclusion, many UK university curricula remain bounded by the ideas, voices and assumptions of the Global North. This isn’t just an issue of representation. It cuts to the core of what and whose knowledge counts and who the curriculum is for.
Universities have long functioned as what sociologist Remi Joseph-Salisbury calls “white spaces”; spaces where whiteness is not just numerically dominant, but culturally embedded. When students from minoritised backgrounds find their lived experiences absent from course readings, case studies, or teaching examples, the message is clear: they are not the imagined subject of the curriculum.
Lost in translation
This exclusion is rarely intentional. However, its effects are deeply felt. Students must expend emotional labour to navigate, challenge or mentally translate course content that does not reflect their experiences or worldviews. For some, this produces what scholars such as Smith and colleagues in 2014 have termed racial battle fatigue.
Language plays a significant role here. In many classrooms standard academic English, which is rooted in the speech of white, middle-class Britons, is upheld as the norm. Yet this language can be very different to that adopted by young people. Students who speak dialects such as Multicultural London English (MLE), or whose cultural references differ from the mainstream, are often seen as less articulate or capable. Even institutional communications, usually packed with acronyms like NSS, OfS, PGCert, and so on can create an impenetrable culture that alienates students unfamiliar with higher education’s bureaucratic vernacular.
Such institutional language is frequently seen in formal assessment briefs and feedback mechanisms, and so existing insecurities and barriers are reinforced. Minoritised students can struggle to link the assessments to their own lived realities and performance is impacted. These are factors that will contribute towards the ethnicity degree awarding gap, at many universities where white students tend to be awarded more top grades at the end of their studies than students from minoritised backgrounds.
From audit to agency
To address the ethnicity degree awarding gap, universities are now moving away from peer reviews or external examiner reports for assessments of teaching and learning materials. In their place, models of evaluation have been introduced that empower students to take the lead in assessing the inclusivity of their curriculum. This isn’t a symbolic gesture. Student reviewers can not only be trained in inclusive pedagogy and curriculum theory but bring a wealth of experiences and insights that add considerable value to curriculum.
Having a student review their teaching can be challenging for staff, but it should be viewed as a positive experience and an opportunity to develop. Practical, structured student feedback specifically about how the curriculum is experienced isn’t routinely available but by positioning students as co-creators rather than consumers of education and working with them to develop a negotiated curriculum universities can begin to develop what Bovill and Bulley in 2011 call “student–staff partnerships” in curriculum design. More importantly cultures of reflection will be built among both students and staff.
Indeed, the insights gathered by students provide fresh ideas and impetus for change. Universities should expect to see changes such as staff diversifying reading lists, incorporating non-Western knowledge systems, adopting and adapting podcasts and visual content, removing or clarifying colloquialisms, and reflecting more critically on their own teaching assumptions. Students also benefit as they gain a deeper understanding of learning and teaching at a personal and institutional level while developing skills that make them more employable.
Structural limits, and what they reveal
It is important that inclusion is not viewed as a compliance exercise. Inclusivity isn’t just about content or the material on reading lists, but about systems. Class times, unit design or professional frameworks can prevent meaningful change. These barriers resonate with what Sara Ahmed calls “non-performativity”; institutional practices that talk inclusion but do little to change the power structures that sustain inequality.
Too frequently in HE, students are asked for feedback at the end of a module; asked what is missing or could be improved. And too often, the work of inclusion is treated as a box-ticking exercise, rather than as a long-term commitment to changing institutional norms. Collaborations that give agency to students provide visible demonstration to staff and students that inclusion matters, and that they need to work together to take practical steps that make a real difference.
Importantly, in the same way that it is vital to reduce the burden of navigating racialised systems and institutional language, inclusive practice cannot rest on the unpaid labour of those most affected by exclusion. Students employed to do this work should be compensated, recognising their expertise and time – institutions must demonstrate their commitment to this work.
It is also important to address how gender, disability, class, and educational background also shape curriculum experience. This move reflects the understanding, drawn from Kimberlé Crenshaw’s work that inclusion must be multi-dimensional. One-size-fits-all interventions rarely address the complex realities students navigate.
Reimagining who defines knowledge
Curriculum audits on their own are not enough to drive change, A shift in culture is needed. The idea that academics alone define what is taught must be challenged, with students viewed not as passive recipients but as partners in learning.
If universities are to genuinely respond to the challenges of structural inequality, they must go beyond slogans and statements. They must create space for critique, redistribute power, and invite students to shape the educational experiences that shape them in return.
At a time when EDI initiatives in the higher education sector are facing pressure from right-wing popularist leaders it is perhaps now more important than ever that efforts to decolonise and diversify curricula continue to grow. The question for higher education institutions is whether they are willing to relax their control over whose knowledge counts.
Practical takeaways for sector professionals
Start small, but with structure. Begin with a pilot group of trained student reviewers and focus on a manageable number of modules.
Pay students. Their labour and insights are valuable; budget for it.
Support staff engagement. Offer training and development to help staff reflect and act without defensiveness.
Embed responses in course planning. Ensure that student input leads to visible, documented changes.
Build community, not compliance. Inclusion isn’t just about metrics; it’s about shared commitment to equity and belonging.
The authors are grateful for the contributions of Rebekah Kerslake and Parisa Gilani to this article.
After a three-year pause prompted by the pandemic, the clock on student loan repayments suddenly started ticking again in September 2023, and forbearance ended last September. For millions of borrowers like Shauntee Russell, the resumption of payments marked a harsh return to financial reality.
Russell, a single mother of three from Chicago, had received $127,000 in student loan forgiveness through the SAVE program, and had experienced profound relief at having that $632 monthly payment lifted from her shoulders. SAVE exemplified both the transformative power of debt relief and the urgent need to continue this fight — but now SAVE has been suspended.
Such setbacks cannot be the end of our story, as I document in my forthcoming book. The resumption of loan payments, while painful, must serve as a rallying cry rather than a surrender. We stand at a critical juncture. The Supreme Court’s devastating blow to former President Biden’s initial forgiveness plan and the ongoing legal challenges to programs like SAVE have left 45 million borrowers in a state of financial limbo. The fundamental inequities of our higher education system have never been more apparent.
Black students graduate with nearly 50 percent more debt than their white counterparts, while women hold roughly two-thirds of all outstanding student debt — a staggering $1.5 trillion that continues to grow. These aren’t just statistics; they represent systemic barriers that prevent entire communities from achieving economic mobility.
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The students I interviewed while reporting on this crisis reveal the human cost of inaction. They include Maria Sanchez, a nursing student in St. Louis who skips meals to save money and can only access textbooks through library loans.
Then there is Robert Carroll, who gave up his dorm room in Cleveland and now alternates between friends’ couches just to stay in school.
These students represent the millions who are working multiple jobs, sacrificing basic needs and seeing their dreams deferred under the weight of financial pressure.
Yet what strikes me most is their resilience and determination. Despite these overwhelming obstacles, these students persist, driven by the same belief that motivated civil rights leaders like Congressman Adam Clayton Powell Jr. — that education is the pathway to economic empowerment and social justice.
The current political landscape, with Donald J. Trump’s return to the presidency and a Republican-controlled Congress, presents unprecedented challenges. Plans to dismantle key borrower protections and efforts to eliminate the Department of Education signal a dark period ahead for student debt relief.
But history teaches us that progress often comes through sustained grassroots organizing and innovative policy solutions at multiple levels of government and society.
Universities must step up with institutional relief programs, as my own institution, Trinity Washington University, did when it settled $1.8 million in student balances during the pandemic.
The Black church, which has long understood the connection between education and liberation, continues to provide crucial support through scholarship programs. Organizations like the United Negro College Fund, the Thurgood Marshall College Fund and the National Association for Equal Opportunity in Higher Education remain vital pillars in making higher education accessible.
Still, individual, institutional and state efforts, while necessary, are not sufficient. We need comprehensive federal action that treats student debt as what it truly is: a civil rights issue and a moral imperative. The magnitude of the crisis — it affects Americans across every congressional district — creates unique opportunities for bipartisan coalition building.
Smart advocates are already reframing the narrative by replacing partisan talking points with economic arguments that resonate across ideological lines: workforce development, entrepreneurship and American competitiveness on the world stage.
When student debt prevents nurses from serving rural communities, teachers from working in underserved schools and young entrepreneurs from starting businesses, it becomes an economic drag that affects everyone.
The path to federal action may require creative approaches — perhaps through tax policy, regulatory changes or targeted relief for specific professions — but the political mathematics of 45 million impacted voters ultimately makes comprehensive action not just morally necessary, but politically inevitable.
Student debt relief is not about handouts — it’s about honoring the promise that education should be a ladder up, not an anchor weighing down entire generations; it’s about ensuring that Shauntee Russell’s relief becomes the norm, not the exception. The fight is far from over.
The young activists I met at the March on Washington 60th anniversary understood something profound: Their debt is not their fault, but their fight is their responsibility. They carry forward the legacy of those who came before them who believed that access to education should not depend on one’s family wealth, and that crushing debt should not be the price of pursuing knowledge.
The arc of history still bends toward justice — but in this era of political resistance, we must be prepared to bend it ourselves through sustained organizing, innovative policy solutions and an unwavering commitment to the principle that education is a right, not a privilege reserved for the wealthy.
The resumption of payments is not the end of this story. It’s the beginning of the next chapter in our fight for educational equity and economic justice. And this chapter, like those before it, will be written by the voices of the millions who refuse to let debt define their destiny.
Jamal Watson is a professor and associate dean of graduate studies at Trinity Washington University and an editor at Diverse Issues In Higher Education.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
MOREHEAD, Ky. — The summer after ninth grade, Zoey Griffith found herself in an unfamiliar setting: a dorm on the Morehead State University campus.
There, she’d spend the months before her sophomore year taking classes in core subjects including math and biology and electives like oil painting.
For Griffith, it was an opportunity, but a scary one. “It was a big deal for me to live on campus at the age of 14,” she said. Morehead State is about an hour from her hometown of Maysville. “I was nervous, and I remember that I cried the first time that my dad left me on move-in day.”
Her mother became a parent as a teenager and urged her daughter to avoid the same experience. Griffith’s father works as a mechanic, and he frowns upon the idea of higher education, she said.
And so college back then seemed a distant and unlikely idea.
But Griffith’s stepsister had introduced her to a federal program called Upward Bound. It places high school students in college dorms during the summer, where they can take classes and participate in workshops on preparing for the SAT and financial literacy. During the school year, students get tutoring and work on what are called individual success plans.
Upward Bound students test the robots they built in their robotics class – evaluating for programming and mechanical issues. Credit: Photo courtesy of the Upward Bound Programs
It’s part of a group of federal programs, known as TRIO, aimed at helping low-income and first-generation students earn a college degree, often becoming the first in their families to do so.
So, thanks to that advice from her stepsister, Kirsty Beckett, who’s now 27 and pursuing a doctorate in psychology, Griffith signed up and found herself in that summer program at Morehead State. Now, Griffith is enrolled at Maysville Community and Technical College, with plans to become an ultrasound technician.
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TRIO, once a group of three programs — giving it a name that stuck — is now the umbrella over eight some dating back to 1965. Together, they serve roughly 870,000 students nationwide a year.
It has worked with millions of students and has bipartisan support in Congress. Some in this part of the Appalachian region of Kentucky, and across the country, worry about students who won’t get the same assistance if President Donald Trump ends federal spending on the program.
Students Zoey Griffith, left, and Aniyah Caldwell, right, say the Upward Bound program has been life-changing for them. Upward Bound is one of eight federal programs under the TRIO umbrella. Credit: Michael Vasquez for The Hechinger Report
A White House budget proposal would eliminate spending on TRIO. The document says “access to college is not the obstacle it was for students of limited means” and puts the onus on colleges to recruit and support students.
Advocates note that the programs, which cost roughly $1.2 billion each year, have a proven track record. Students in Upward Bound, for example, are more than twice as likely to earn a bachelor’s degree by age 24 than other students from some of the nation’s poorest households, according to the Council for Opportunity in Education. COE is a nonprofit that represents TRIO programs nationwide and advocates for expanded opportunities for first-generation, low-income students.
For the high school class of 2022, 74 percent of Upward Bound students enrolled immediately in college — compared with only 56 percent of high school graduates in the bottom income quartile.
Upward Bound is for high school students, like Griffith. Another TRIO program, Talent Search, helps middle and high school students, without the residential component. One called Student Support Services (SSS) provides tutoring, advising and other assistance to at-risk college students. Another program prepares students for graduate school and doctoral degrees, and yet another trains TRIO staff.
A 2019 study found that after four years of college, students in SSS were 48 percent more likely to complete an associate’s degree or certificate, or transfer to a four-year institution, than a comparable group of students with similar backgrounds and similar levels of high school achievement who were not in the program.
“TRIO has been around for 60 years,” said Kimberly Jones, the president of COE. “We’ve produced millions of college graduates. We know it works.”
Yet Education Secretary Linda McMahon and the White House refer to the programs as a “relic of the past.”
Jones countered that census data shows that “students from the poorest families still earn college degrees at rates far below that of students from the highest-income families,” demonstrating continued need for TRIO.
McMahon is challenging that and pushing for further study of those TRIO success rates. In 2020, the U.S. Government Accountability Office found that even though the Education Department collects data on TRIO participants, “the agency has gaps in its evidence on program effectiveness.” The GAO criticized the Education Department for having “outdated” studies on some TRIO programs, and no studies at all for others. Since then, the department has expanded its evaluations of TRIO.
East Main Street in Morehead, Kentucky, just outside of Morehead State’s campus. Credit: Michael Vasquez for The Hechinger Report
During a Senate subcommittee hearing in June, McMahon acknowledged “there is some effectiveness of the programs, in many circumstances.”
Still, she said there is not enough research to justify TRIO’s total cost. “That’s a real drawback in these programs,” McMahon said.
Now, she is asking lawmakers to eliminate TRIO spending after this year and has already canceled some previously approved TRIO grants.
“What are we supposed to do, especially here in eastern Kentucky?” asked David Green, a former Upward Bound participant who is now marketing director for a pair of Kentucky hospitals.
Green lives in a region that has some of the nation’s highest rates of unemployment, cancer and opioid addiction. “I mean, these people have big hearts, they want to grow,” he added. Cutting these programs amounts to “stifling us even more than we’re already stifled.”
Green described his experience with TRIO at Morehead State in the mid-1980s as “one of the best things that ever happened to me.”
He grew up in a home without running water in Maysville, a city of about 8,000 people. It was on a TRIO trip to Washington, D.C., he recalled, that he stayed in a hotel for the first time. Green remembers bringing two suitcases so he could pack a pillow, sheets and comforter — unaware the hotel room would have its own.
He met students from other towns and with different backgrounds. Some became lifelong friends. Green learned table manners, the kind of thing often required in business settings. After college, he was so grateful for TRIO that he became one of its tutors, working with the next generation of students.
TRIO’s all-encompassing nature makes it unique among college access programs, said Tom Stritikus, the president of Occidental College, a private liberal arts college in Los Angeles. He was previously president of Fort Lewis College, a public liberal arts school in Colorado with a large Native American student population. At both institutions, Stritikus said, he witnessed the effectiveness of TRIO’s methods, which he described as a “soup to nuts” menu of services for at-risk students trying to be the first in their families to earn degrees.
After participating in the Upward Bound program, David Green has had a successful career, becoming a community leader in his hometown of Maysville, Kentucky. Credit: Michael Vasquez for The Hechinger Report
Jones, of the Council for Opportunity in Education, said she is cautiously optimistic that Congress will continue funding TRIO, despite the Trump administration’s request. The programs serve students in all 50 states. According to the COE, about 34 percent are white, 32 percent are Black, 23 percent are Hispanic, 5 percent are Asian, and 3 percent are Native American. TRIO’s guidelines require that a majority of participants come from families making less than 150 percent of the federal poverty level. For a family of four living in the contiguous United States, that’s a max of $48,225 a year.
In May, Rep. Mike Simpson, an Idaho Republican, called TRIO “one of the most effective programs in the federal government,” which, he said, is supported by “many, many members of Congress.”
In June, Sen. Shelley Moore Capito, a Republican from West Virginia and a former TRIO employee, spoke about its importance to her state. TRIO helps “a student that really needs the extra push, the camaraderie, the community,” she said. “I’ve gone to their graduations, and been their speaker, and it’s really quite delightful to see how far they’ve come, in a short period of time.”
TRIO survived, with its funding intact, when the Senate appropriations committee approved its budget last month. The House is expected to take up its version of the annual appropriations bill for education in early September. Both chambers ultimately have to agree on federal spending, a process that could drag on until December, leaving TRIO’s fate in Congress uncertain.
While lawmakers debate its future, the Trump administration could also delay or halt TRIO funding on its own. Earlier this year, the administration took the unprecedented step of unilaterally canceling about 20 previously approved new and continuing TRIO grants.
At Morehead State, leaders say the university — and the region it serves — need the boost it receives from TRIO: While roughly 38 percent of American adults have earned at least a bachelor’s degree, in Kentucky, that figure is only 16 percent. And, locally, it’s 7 percent, according to Summer Fawn Bryant, the director of TRIO’s Talent Search programs at the university.
Summer Fawn Bryant, center, is director of TRIO’s Talent Search programs at Morehead State University in Kentucky. She stands with former TRIO students Alexandria Daniel, left, and Blake Thayer, right. Credit: Photo courtesy of Summer Fawn Bryant
TRIO works to counter the stigma of attending college that still exists in parts of eastern Kentucky, Bryant said. A student from a humble background who is considering college, she said, might be scolded with the phrase: Don’t get above your raisin’.
“A parent may say it,” Bryant said. “A teacher may say it.”
She added that she’s seen time and again how these programs can turn around the lives of young students facing adversity.
Students like Beth Cockrell, an Upward Bound alum from Pineville, Ky., who said her mom struggled with parenting. “Upward Bound stepped in as that kind of co-parent and helped me decide what my major was going to be.”
Cockrell went on to earn three degrees at Morehead State and has worked as a teacher for the past 19 years. She now works with students at her alma mater and teaches third grade at Conkwright Elementary School, about an hour away.
In a few years, 17-year-old Upward Bound student Isaac Bocook plans to join the teaching ranks too — as a middle school social studies teacher. Bocook said he was indecisive about what to study after high school, but he finally figured it out after attending a career fair at Morehead State’s historic Button Auditorium.
Upward Bound students visit the Great Lake Science Center in Cleveland for the end-of-summer educational trip. Credit: Photo courtesy of the Upward Bound Programs
Bocook lives in Lewis County, with just under 13,000 residents and a single public high school. At Morehead State’s TRIO program, Bocook met teenagers from across the entire region, which he said improved his social skills. TRIO also helped him with all kinds of paperwork on the pathway to adulthood. Filling out financial aid forms. Writing scholarship applications. Crafting a resume.
“I’m just truly grateful to have TRIO, as sort of like a hand to hold,” Bocook said.
His need for guidance is similar to what students at Morgan County High School in West Liberty, Kentucky, experience, said Lori Keeton, the school guidance counselor. The challenge facing these first-generation students, she said, is that “you just simply don’t know what you don’t know.”
As the sole counselor for 550 students, Keeton doesn’t have time to help each student navigate the complex college-application process and said she worries that some of her students will apply to fewer colleges, or no colleges at all, if TRIO disappears.
TRIO’s Talent Search program serves about 100 students at her high school, and roughly another dozen are part of Upward Bound. Each program has a dedicated counselor who visits regularly to guide and assist students.
Sherry Adkins, an eastern Kentucky native who attended TRIO more than 50 years ago and went on to become a registered nurse, said efforts to cut TRIO spending ignore the long-term benefits. “Do you want all of these people that are disadvantaged to continue like that? Where they’re taking money from society? Or do you want to help prepare us to become successful people who pay lots of taxes?”
As Washington considers TRIO’s future, program directors like Bryant, at Morehead State, press forward. She has preserved a text message a former student sent her two years ago to remind her of what’s at stake.
After finishing college, the student was attending a conference on child abuse when a presenter showed a slide that included the quote: “Every child who winds up doing well has had at least one stable and committed relationship with a supportive adult.”
“Forever thankful,” the student texted Bryant, “that you were that supportive adult for me.”
Contact editor Nirvi Shah at 212-678-3445, securely on Signal at NirviShah.14 or via email at [email protected].
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
The early years are a critical time to teach the foundations of math. That’s when children learn to count, start identifying shapes and gain an early understanding of concepts like size and measurement. These years can also be a time when children are confronted with preconceived notions of their abilities in math, often based on their race, which can negatively affect their math success and contribute to long-standing racial gaps in scores.
These are some of the motivating factors behind the Racial Justice in Early Math project, a collaboration between the Erikson Institute, a private graduate school focused on child development, and the University of Illinois Chicago. The project aims to educate teachers and provide resources including books, teacher tips and classroom activities that help educators combat racial bias in math instruction.
I sat down with Danny Bernard Martin, professor of education and mathematics at the University of Illinois Chicago, project director Priscila Pereira and Jennifer McCray, a research professor at the Erikson Institute, to learn more about their work. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
What are some of the key examples of racial injustice that you see in early math education?
Martin: If I say to you, ‘Asians are good at math,’ that’s something that you’ve heard, we know that’s out there. When does that kind of belief start? Well, there’s something called ‘racial-mathematical socialization’ that we take seriously in this project, that we know happens in the home before children come to school. Parents and caregivers are generating messages around math that they transmit to children, and then those messages may get reinforced in schools.
Even at the early math level, there are research projects beginning to construct Black children in particular ways, comparing Black children to white children as the norm. That is a racial justice issue, because that narrative about white children, Black children, Asian American children, Latinx children, then filters out. It becomes part of the accepted truth, and then it impacts what teachers do and what principals and school leaders believe about children.
What does this look like in schools?
McCray: Perhaps the math curriculum doesn’t represent them or their experience. We all know that often schools for children of color are under-resourced. What often happens in under-resourced schools is that the curriculum and the teaching tends to focus on the basics. There might be an overemphasis on drilling or doing timed tests. We also have those situations where people are doing ability grouping in math. And we know what the research says about that, it’s basically ‘good education for you, and poor education for you.’ It’s almost impossible to do any of that without doing harm.
One line of research has been to watch teachers interact with children and videotape or study them. And in diverse classrooms with white teachers … often it is observed that children who are Black or Latina aren’t called on as often, or aren’t listened to as much, or don’t have the same kind of opportunity to be a leader in the classroom.
What should teacher prep programs, administrators and families do to address racial justice issues in early math?
McCray: Maybe the white teacher is reflecting on themselves, on their own biases … trying to connect with families or communities in some way that’s meaningful. We want teachers to have that balance of knowing that sometimes you do want to teach a procedure, but you never want to be shutting down ideas for creative ways to solve a math problem, or culturally distinct ways to solve a math problem that might come from your students.
It might be something like, you’re working on sorting in an early childhood classroom. And what if a child is thinking about a special craft that their parent does that’s like the [papel picado], or papers that get cut in very elaborate designs in Mexico. … If the teacher doesn’t have space to listen, it could be a shutdown moment, instead of a moment of connection, where the child is actually bringing something … that is associated with their own identity.
Pereira: I do feel that sometimes the conversations of racial justice really put the weight on teachers and teachers alone. Teaching is part of a larger structure. Maybe your school will not allow you to do the work that is needed. I’m thinking about [a teacher] who was required to follow a scripted curriculum that did not promote the positive math identity for Black children. It needs to be a whole community effort.
How is your initiative changing this?
Pereira: There are resources in terms of opportunities that we offer to teachers to engage with our content and ideas: webinars, a fellowship and an immersive learning experience in the summer of 2026. These spaces are moments in which educators, researchers and people that are engaged in the education of young learners, can come together … and disrupt mainstream notions of understanding what is racial justice and how one gets that in the classroom.
Right now, research and initiatives zeroing in on race are under scrutiny, especially at the college level. Do you foresee any additional challenges to this work?
Pereira: There was a National Science Foundation grant program focused on racial equity in STEM and we had been planning to apply for funds to do something there. … It’s gone. … The only place we’re welcome is where there’s a governor who is willing to take on Trump. We just have to keep doing the work, because we know what’s right. But it is challenging, for sure.
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In 2021, I piloted a city-wide mentoring programme for global majority ethnic staff working in London universities.
It was born from the bilateral North London Leadership Programme between London Metropolitan University and City St George’s, University of London. Four years later the Global Majority Mentoring Programme is flourishing – but world events show us that we need interventions like these as much as we ever did.
The Global Majority Mentoring Programme is London Higher’s flagship commitment to championing equality, diversity and inclusion across the capital. It is a cross-institutional scheme that aims to improve career progression for global majority ethnic staff; give mentees a senior mentor from a different institution, outside their institutional hierarchy; and build professional networks across the capital to foster pan-London collaboration. Over 300 participants from 20 institutions have engaged with the scheme, with representation from small specialist institutions, large multi-faculty universities, and everything in between.
London remains the most ethnically diverse region in the UK. Ten of London’s 32 boroughs (plus the City of London) have a majority non-white population. Newham is London’s most diverse borough, with a population that is 69.2 per cent non-white. In the boroughs of Brent, Redbridge, Harrow and Tower Hamlets, the figure is also above 60 per cent.
You could also call the capital a microcosm of the wider HE sector. London has the largest concentration of diverse higher education providers in the country. A citywide initiative here has a real opportunity to effect meaningful and visible change. Our universities are proudly outward-looking and global, from research links to equitable international partnerships, yet they are also firmly rooted in place and contributors to local growth, regeneration and prosperity. However, lasting change doesn’t happen overnight; London’s higher education sector was not, and still is not, truly representative of the city it serves.
Mentoring individuals from global majority ethnic backgrounds aligns with London-wide policy aims and ambitions: there’s a clear evidence base to support this. Along with the London Anchor Institutions’ Network, we’re striving to meet the clear priorities that have been set out for London’s post-pandemic recovery and regeneration, addressing systemic issues of social and economic unfairness. The London Growth Plan and upcoming Inclusive Talent Strategy encapsulate these priorities.
Growing the pipeline
We are all acutely aware of the wider narrative around EDI. The second Trump administration’s efforts in the US show us what can happen when a populist government takes up “anti-woke” as a cause. There may be disagreement about the form that EDI work should take and some people may fundamentally disagree with the legitimacy of EDI work as part of a public service agenda.
However, in a sector in which there is a visible lack of diversity – in all its forms – that worsens, the further upstream in the talent pipeline you go, we need to continue to work to understand the practical and cultural barriers to leadership and drive to overcome them, learning together as we go. A theme that has consistently emerged throughout the programme is gaining a better knowledge of HE, and its systemic complexities and barriers.
Mentoring programmes like ours create space and connections to make sense of personal experience and explore shared challenges. Participants report feeling a greater sense of empowerment and increased confidence. And tangible impacts on mentees include promotions, collaborations across universities, joint research bids, and even funded PhDs happening as a result of their participation in the scheme.
Future-proofing
Career progression and leadership opportunities were identified as key issues from the outset, so it seems appropriate that the programme is supported by Minerva, an executive search and recruitment firm specialising in education. As headhunters responsible for significant appointments, Minerva is in a position of influence to shape the composition of senior university leadership and their boards.
The programme ensures that a diverse talent pool is in the Minerva team’s line of sight, and can understand more about the challenges global majority colleagues face in moving up the ladder. Minerva also runs yearly masterclass for participants to demystify the executive search process – providing insights into a world that is largely unknown to many of them. This includes a breakdown of recruitment, explanations of things such as the “informal coffee” interview stage, tips on negotiating, conveying a personal brand and profile raising.
We also tailored a leadership development programme alongside the University of Westminster and Blue Whistle Learning that has been taken up internationally, in countries like the Philippines and South Africa.
It is my hope that the initiatives like this are viewed not as political footballs or shiny nice-to-haves, but for what they are – interventions based on robust evidence that meet local and sectoral needs and broaden opportunities for collaboration.
Higher education, especially in London, does not exist in a bubble. It is critical that universities continue to position themselves as integral to driving wider policy change in service of society. A more diverse sector does not mean a watered-down one – it means one that is informed by more voices and perspectives, and therefore better equipped to succeed in tackling the challenges laid out before it.
This article is one of four exploring London Higher’s Global Majority Mentoring Programme – you can find the others here.
