Protesting in public parks is as American as apple pie. It’s at the heart of our First Amendment — and one of our nation’s most time-honored principles. That right does not disappear merely because a private entity operates the public park on the government’s behalf.
That’s why FIRE and the Law and Religion Clinic at the University of Texas School of Law are appealing a district court ruling that weakens this First Amendment right. And we are proud to be backed by a broad coalition of prominent organizations as “friends of the court.”
Here’s what happened. Several years ago, animal welfare advocates Daraius Dubash and Dr. Faraz Harsini took to Houston’s largest public park to raise awareness about the harms of industrialized farming. For Dubash, this activism is rooted in his Vedantic Hindu faith, which compels him to promote the teaching of ahimsa, or nonviolence. To communicate their message, Dubash and Harsini serve as co-organizers for an international nonprofit animal-rights group. Their signature event involves volunteers showing muted documentary footage of farming practices to passersby, while others remain available to answer questions.
Dubash and Harsini’s right to peacefully advocate on this issue in a public park is beyond dispute. But on three separate occasions, the public park’s private management ordered them to leave. The fourth time, park management had Houston police arrest Dubash for criminal trespass and banned them both from showing their video footage in the park in the future. Why? Because the park’s private managers and city police deemed their message “offensive.”
With the help of FIRE and the Law and Religion Clinic, Dubash and Harsini filed suit in 2023 against the City of Houston, the park management corporation, its then-president, and the arresting officers. But in September, 2024, the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Texas dismissed their claims, ruling that none of the defendants were responsible for violating Dubash and Harsini’s constitutional rights in a public park.
We disagree.
FIRE and the Clinic appealed to the Fifth Circuit, arguing that the ruling effectively lets the government bypass the First Amendment by delegating the management of public spaces to private organizations. And the court’s limited interpretation of governmental liability would make it nearly impossible for anyone to challenge violation of their constitutional rights by municipalities or law enforcement.
Last week, 12 prominent organizations from across the ideological spectrum filed nine amicus curiae briefs in support of Dubash and Harsini:
The ACLU of Texas argues the park management company was acting as a state actor and public-private partnerships “cannot serve as an end run around the First Amendment.” The brief also argues the district court erred by failing to hold the arresting officers accountable based on their “mistaken belief” that the park was private. As the brief explains, probable-cause findings must be based on “objective facts and circumstances rather than subjective beliefs.”
Young America’s Foundation, Hamilton Lincoln Law Institute, and Advancing American Freedomexplain that Houston cannot bypass its duty to protect free speech in its public spaces by granting oversight authority to a private third party. The brief also emphasizes the sweeping implications of the district court’s decision, including in the academic context where state universities are increasingly attempting to evade First Amendment protections by outsourcing park management to nominally private entities like student governments.
Liberty Justice Center argues the district court’s decision “blurs the line between state and private actors,” allowing Houston to “contract out of its constitutional obligations.” We could not agree more.
The Center for American Liberty, in a brief submitted through Reeves Law LLC, argues that maintaining a public park is a traditional and exclusive government function, with public parks serving “as public forums for the expression of speech,” whether or not they are managed by a private entity.
The National Press Photographers Association, in abrief submitted through the First Amendment Clinic at Southern Methodist University Dedman School of Law, explains how the district court’s ruling “threatens the sanctity of the spaces where speech is deserving of the highest protection.”
Law Enforcement Action Partnership and the National Police Accountability Projectexplain that accountability for law enforcement officers and municipalities is crucial to preserving public confidence in the police and the government, and that failing to hold police officers accountable “undermines public trust in law enforcement.” The brief also argues that municipalities should know their police officers “need training and guidance to appropriately respond” to peaceful expressive activity, and failing to provide that training is sufficient to establish municipal liability.
Protect the First Foundation, in a brief submitted through the Religious Freedom Clinic at Harvard Law School and Schaerr Jaffe LLP, highlights that Dubash was motivated to proselytize nonviolence by his deeply held religious beliefs, and describes the long history and tradition of public proselytization, from the persecution of religious minorities in the colonies through the legal protections established by First Amendment jurisprudence.
The Hindu American Foundation, in a brief submitted through Jackson Walker LLP, explains that Dubash’s religious motivation to advocate for nonviolence towards animals is consistent with Hindu teachings. The brief also argues that his “arrest, detention, and the ongoing prohibition on his method of proselytizing” do not pass constitutional muster.
The American Hindu Coalition, in a brief submitted through the Free Exercise Clinic at Yale Law School, emphasizes the history of public parks and streets as centers of religious activity, how marginalized faiths rely on these spaces to exercise their faith, and that Dubash’s activism is rooted in his religious beliefs.
Our clients and their counsel are grateful for the support of this impressive and diverse amicus coalition. This case will play a critical role in protecting the rights of other protesters and religious minorities to engage in protected expression as guaranteed under the First Amendment.
Dr. Katrina ArmstrongColumbia University is grappling with significant financial challenges after the Federal Task Force to Combat Antisemitism announced $400 million in cuts to federal funding, a development that Interim University President Dr. Katrina Armstrong says will “touch nearly every corner of the University.”
The task force described the cuts as a consequence of Columbia’s “continued inaction in the face of persistent harassment of Jewish students” and warned that this represents only the “first round of action,” with “additional cancellations” to follow.
This announcement comes just four days after the task force revealed it would consider stop work orders for $51.4 million in contracts between Columbia and the federal government and conduct a “comprehensive review” of more than $5 billion in federal grant commitments to the institution.
In her communication to the Columbia community, Armstrong acknowledged that the cuts would have an immediate impact on research and critical university functions, affecting “students, faculty, staff, research, and patient care.” Federal funding constituted approximately $1.3 billion of Columbia’s annual operating revenue in the 2024 fiscal year.
“There is no question that the cancellation of these funds will immediately impact research and other critical functions of the University,” Armstrong wrote in en email to the campus community, while emphasizing that Columbia’s mission as “a great research university does not waver.”
The situation at Columbia highlights the increasing tensions between academic institutions and the Trump administration, particularly regarding how universities respond to claims of antisemitism on campus. Since October 2023, Columbia has been at the center of pro-Palestinian student protests, drawing federal scrutiny, especially from the Trump administration.
President Trump recently stated on Truth Social that “All Federal Funding will STOP for any College, School, or University that allows illegal protests.”
Armstrong, who assumed her interim position following former University President Minouche Shafik’s resignation in August 2024, described Columbia as needing a “reset” from the “chaos of encampments and protests.” She emphasized that the university “needed to acknowledge and repair the damage to our Jewish students.”
Armstrong affirmed the university’s commitment to working with the federal government on addressing antisemitism concerns, stating: “Columbia can, and will, continue to take serious action toward combatting antisemitism on our campus. This is our number one priority.”
Armstrong, however, did not outline specific plans for how Columbia would adapt to the significant loss of federal funding, instead focusing on the university’s broader mission and values.
“Antisemitism, violence, discrimination, harassment, and other behaviors that violate our values or disrupt teaching, learning, or research are antithetical to our mission,” Armstrong noted. “We must continue to work to address any instances of these unacceptable behaviors on our campus. We must work every day to do better.”
The situation at Columbia raises important questions for higher education institutions nationwide about balancing free speech, campus safety, and federal compliance in the age of the Trump presidency. As universities increasingly face scrutiny over their handling of contentious social and political issues, the consequences—both financial and reputational—can be severe.
Armstrong called unity within the Columbia community to maintain the university’s standing and continue its contributions to society.
“A unified Columbia, one that remains focused on our mission and our values, will succeed in making the uncommonly valuable contributions to society that have distinguished this great university from its peers over the last 270 years,” she said.
This audio is auto-generated. Please let us know if you have feedback.
Many schools and higher education partnerships that support the teacher pipeline are starting to feel the brunt of a $600 million cut in “divisive” teacher training grants announced Feb. 17 by the U.S. Department of Education.
The cost-cutting measures by the Education Department are part of a broader effort throughout the federal government initiated by the Trump administration. The initiative led by the Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE, reported this week that the Education Department is leading among other federal agencies for the most savings in total funding cuts.
Two of the most common federal grant programs impacted so far are the Teacher Quality Partnership Program and the Supporting Effective Educator Development Grant, said Cheryl Holcomb-McCoy, president and CEO of the American Association of Colleges for Teacher Education. AACTE has been surveying its members to gauge the grant slashing effort’s reach.
Though the Education Department did not specify which teacher training grants programs were being cut, the agency said in its announcement that the reductions are targeting funds to institutions and nonprofits that were using training materials on topics such as critical race theory and diversity, equity and inclusion. The department added that “many of these grants included teacher and staff recruiting strategies implicitly and explicitly based on race.”
At American University in Washington, D.C., for instance, a Teacher Quality Partnership Program grant allowed the university to help paraprofessionals at Friendship Charter Public Schools earn a master’s degree in early childhood or special education, “which there is a real need for,” said Holcomb-McCoy, who previously served as dean of American University’s School of Education.
The multiyear federal grant — which covered the private university’s tuition for about 15 teacher candidates to get credentialed, Holcomb-McCoy said — was written to benefit Friendship Charter Public Schools, as well as to address special educator shortages throughout the city.. That funding was “essentially cut.”
“We talk about teacher shortages of special education, teacher shortages in subjects such as science and math and technology,” Holcomb-McCoy said. “Cutting these grants essentially is cutting off the pipeline for many aspiring educators to get into the profession, and it’s not helping us. It’s hurting K-12 districts in many ways.”
The grant also noted that it’s important to have a diverse representation of special education teachers trained in inclusive practices in Washington, D.C., schools, Holcomb-McCoy said. “The impact that that has on students with special needs is huge, and to stop that pipeline of people who aspire to work in that space is devastating to school districts and to communities and families.”
AACTE estimates that about 31 Supporting Effective Educator Development grants and as many as 75 Teacher Quality Partnership Program grants were recently canceled nationwide. The association is providing support to its members and plans to help them first appeal their cases to the Education Department.
AACTE is also exploring potential litigation options, Holcomb-McCoy said.
A hit to diversifying the teacher workforce
Many of the applications for federal grants that were cut were written to align with priorities related to diversity set by former presidential administrations. As a result, Holcomb-McCoy said, a lot of those grant programs intentionally sought to address issues over diversity, equity and inclusion.
Still, diversity in the teacher workforce has been a longstanding issue, she said. As the student population becomes more diverse, the hope has been to hire and keep teachers who are representative of their students.
The most recently available federal data on teacher demographics shows that in the 2020-21 school year 80% of teachers were White compared to 46% of students nationwide. Meanwhile, 28% of students were Hispanic and only 9% of teachers share the same background, according to the National Center for Education Statistics. Black students also saw an underrepresentation of classroom instructors at 15% versus 6%, respectively, during the same period.
“We’ve seen a decline in the number of undergraduates who want to go into teaching over the years, and quite frankly, we’ve just had a hard time recruiting and retaining teachers in certain areas. And these grants were written to address the communities in which they are serving,” Holcomb-McCoy said.
A December analysis by the National Council on Teacher Quality found that teacher diversity grew slowly between 2014 and 2022. The percentage of teachers from historically disadvantaged racial groups rose nationwide from 18.3% to 21.1%. But the diversity represented among working-age adults with degrees is starting to outpace that of the teacher workforce, leading to concerns that people of color are opting out of education careers, the report said.
In addition to cutting teacher training programs, the Education Department also recently slashed $881 million in multiyear research contracts.
Those research funding cuts will also make it difficult to measure the success of newer interventions like grow-your-own programs and teacher apprenticeships when it comes to increasing access to much-needed, high-quality educators, Holcomb-McCoy said.
“If we do not have access to grant funds for rigorous research related to these new strategies, we still don’t know if it works or not, so it’s a workforce issue,” she said.
The clock is running out on colleges as they mull how to respond to a sweeping federal order to end all race-based policies and programs.
In the face of an imminent Friday night deadline, college leaders are scrambling to determine how to navigate the Feb. 14 Dear Colleague letter issued by the Education Department’s Office for Civil Rights, which declares all race-based educational programs and policies discriminatory and illegal. When they sent the letter on Valentine’s Day, department officials gave institutions two weeks to comply or face investigations and, possibly, the loss of federal funding.
Institutions aren’t going to lose federal funding overnight. The investigative process is notoriously lengthy, and the Education Department has never revoked a college’s federal funding over civil rights concerns. The OCR may also be rendered impotent, at least temporarily, if a judge decides to halt enforcement while considering a lawsuit filed Tuesday challenging the letter.
But college leaders are anxious about the threat of federal funding cuts, which would be catastrophic for the majority of postsecondary institutions. Ray Li, who previously worked as an attorney at the Office for Civil Rights, said he expects the office to launch investigations shortly and that many colleges will buckle under the pressure, shedding practices that fostered campus diversity and belonging.
For now, colleges seem to be taking a slow and cautious approach, removing language about race and DEI buzzwords from the names of programs and launching internal policy reviews.
University of Nebraska president Jeffrey P. Gold said system campuses are in the midst of a comprehensive review of programs and policies, but no changes have been made yet. The Nebraska Board of Regents discussed possible tweaks to its bylaws at a recent board meeting, like removing references to “cultural diversity” and revising language on equal opportunity in employment, but no final decisions were made.
Gold said that as the review process continues, he doesn’t expect to “turn up anything that looks or feels like discrimination,” as the letter describes.
But it’s possible “we will turn up some things that require some language changes or possibly some changes in titles, changes in offices … that could be misinterpreted by the Department of Education just because of [the] use of specific terminology.”
He added that Nebraska banned affirmative action in 2008 and the state’s second attempt at an anti-DEI bill is pending in the Legislature, so “we have been changing websites [and] titles for years—that’s why I believe that there’s nothing substantive that we really have to change at this time.”
The University of Montana undertook a similar compliance review that tasked senior administrators with assessing whether their departments had any policies or practices at odds with the Dear Colleague letter.
“We made the decision to be as thorough as possible,” said Dave Kuntz, the university’s director of strategic communications. The review, however, led to “very minimal changes and really no changes at a programmatic or operational level.”
University leaders over all concluded that the institution was already in compliance, though some programs, like the Women’s Leadership Initiative, chose to tweak their webpages to clarify that they don’t bar anyone who wants to participate.
A spokesperson for the Education Department did not respond to multiple questions from Inside Higher Ed in time for publication.
The University of Colorado removed all references to a former DEI office and replaced them with a website for a new “Office of Collaboration.” The University of Pennsylvania scrubbed the websites for all 16 undergraduate and graduate schools of DEI keywords and removed references to diversity and affirmative action from its nondiscrimination policies.
Shaun Harper, a professor of education, business and public policy at the University of Southern California, said he’s been disappointed that higher ed leaders are heavily revising their institutions’ online presences in the hopes that it will appease the OCR—a project he believes will prove futile. In the Dear Colleague letter, acting assistant secretary for civil rights Craig Trainor specifically warned against using “proxies for race” and promised to investigate race-neutral programs that “discriminate in less direct, but equally insidious, ways.”
“Scrubbing websites, launching reviews—these are the easy things to do while colleges are in ‘wait and see’ mode, to find out if that will take the target off their backs,” said Harper, an Inside Higher Ed contributor who authored a blog post last week recommending ways colleges can fight back against the Dear Colleague letter. “I think it’s both weak and reckless.”
Some institutions have gone one step further. Colorado State University issued a statement in which leaders simultaneously maintained that its policies are already race-neutral and promised to do more to comply with the new federal directives.
“The new administration’s interpretation of law marks a change,” the statement reads. “Given the university’s reliance on federal funding, it is necessary to take additional steps.”
And one day before the deadline, Ohio State University president Ted Carter announced the institution would shutter two DEI offices and eliminate more than a dozen staff positions, some of the most dramatic measures a college has taken during the new Trump administration.
In a particularly telling move, OSU’s Office of Institutional Equity will be renamed the Office of Civil Rights Compliance to “more accurately reflect its work,” according to an email sent to students Thursday.
‘We’ve Seen This Film Before’
For a glimpse of how anti-DEI compliance battles might play out between institutions and policymakers, consider the red states that have passed laws mandating similar cuts to race-conscious programs.
“We’ve seen the prequel to this film before in Texas,” Harper said. “When that Senate bill was looming, many institutions thought they were very smartly getting ahead of it by just renaming things. That proved to be a failed strategy, and I very comfortably predict that some version of that will also happen nationally.”
In some states, the “review and revamp” strategy for avoiding DEI crackdowns appeared to work for a while. The University of Arkansas eliminated its DEI office in June 2023 in part to pre-empt a bill that state lawmakers were considering to force spending cuts. And last year, the University of North Carolina system Board of Trustees passed an anti-DEI resolution just as legislation was gaining steam to mandate enforcement from the state; that legislation was never brought to a full vote.
But circumstances have changed as the Trump administration launches direct attacks on DEI. Arkansas governor Sarah Huckabee Sanders signed a law earlier this month that will “prohibit affirmative action and preferential treatment in state-supported institutions,” including public colleges like the University of Arkansas. Even in Texas, where public universities underwent broad layoffs and spending cuts in response to state legislation, lawmakers have threatened to cut $400 million in higher ed funding unless colleges do more to comply.
“If they don’t kick DEI out of their schools, they’re going to get a lot less,” Texas lieutenant governor Dan Patrick said at a policy forum last week.
What Happens Next?
Legal experts say it’s unclear what will happen after the OCR’s deadline passes. The Dear Colleague letter promised more detailed guidance, but none has materialized.
“We’re kind of all in agreement that [the letter] is really confusing and overbroad, and the timeline is really outrageous,” said Andrea Stagg, director of consulting services at Grand River Solutions, a company that works with colleges on legal compliance issues. She noted that many underresourced colleges don’t have in-house legal teams to assess their risk by the deadline.
“What actually happens after tomorrow? How fast will it be?” she said Thursday. “I don’t know.”
Typically, the Office for Civil Rights opens investigations based on complaints from students, families or legal advocates, but it can also launch its own direct investigations. Most cases end with a voluntary resolution, in which the institution agrees to make certain changes. But unresolved cases can be referred to the U.S. Department of Justice for litigation.
Li believes the OCR will likely receive complaints from anti-DEI groups as well as open some direct investigations into higher ed institutions with race-based scholarships, affinity group graduation ceremonies or other practices called out by the letter, starting next week. (He pointed out that the current OCR has already launched some direct investigations into universities related to Title IX.)
But that doesn’t mean the day after the Dear Colleague deadline “schools are just going to lose all their federal funding”—assuming normal procedures are followed, he said. Such investigations can take months, even years.
An investigation reaching the point of litigation is also “an incredibly rare step that, under most administrations, pretty much never happens,” Li said. And the Department of Education taking away federal funding over an OCR investigation would be completely unprecedented.
“But, also, rare things are happening right now,” Li conceded.
Stagg said it’s hard to tell to what extent normal processes will be followed, or how much the Department of Government Efficiency’s reductions to the federal workforce could affect investigations.
“There is a real question as to who will do these investigations” and how the OCR will choose institutions to focus on, she said. “Is there going to be an AI tool to search [college] websites for certain terms, the way we saw with the flagging of grants? It could be that the president has a bad interaction at a meeting with a leader and then they are targeted for investigation.”
An Education Department spokesperson did not respond to questions about planned investigations, agency capacity and enforcement mechanisms in time for publication.
It’s also unclear how much resistance colleges will put up. Li believes there’s a strong case to be made that some of the practices targeted in the Dear Colleague letter are perfectly legal. Higher ed institutions under investigation could refuse to make changes and go head to head with the Department of Justice. But they’d be signing up for an onerous, likely expensive process that puts their funding in jeopardy.
“The question is, is anyone willing to litigate it?” Li said.
Even if the Dear Colleague letter is rescinded, Li said the Office for Civil Rights has clearly signaled its plans for the next four years, and he believes higher ed institutions will continue working to rid themselves of anything that could attract scrutiny.
“I think there’s going to be an overcorrection,” he said. “It is going to lead to some perfectly legal programs that support fostering racially inclusive communities on campus being taken away.”
A federal judge temporarily barred Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency from accessing sensitive student data on Monday, after the American Federation of Teachers sued over privacy concerns.
The judge, Deborah Boardman of the District Court of Maryland, said the federal government had not provided convincing evidence that DOGE needed the information to achieve its goals. Last week, in a separate case brought by the University of California Student Association against the Education Department, a different judge declined to bar DOGE from accessing student data, saying the plaintiffs hadn’t shown any harm done. But Boardman, a Biden appointee, argued that DOGE staff being given access was enough to merit the injunction.
Education Department staff and student advocates raised concerns about DOGE employees’ access to student loan and financial aid data, which includes troves of uniquely sensitive, personally identifiable information. The injunction prevents the office from executing what Musk has referred to as an “audit” of the student loan system for at least two weeks while the lawsuit is ongoing, as well as from accessing financial aid data.
“We brought this case to uphold people’s privacy, because when people give their financial and other personal information to the federal government—namely to secure financial aid for their kids to go to college, or to get a student loan—they expect that data to be protected,” AFT president Randi Weingarten wrote in a statement.
The court-ordered stoppage is the latest in a string of injunctions issued against Musk and the Trump administration in recent weeks, as lawsuits pile up against the administration’s attempts to swiftly upend the federal bureaucracy. On Friday, a federal judge blocked Trump from enforcing large parts of his executive order against diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives.
SUPAI, Ariz. — Kambria Siyuja always felt like the smartest kid in Supai.
Raised by educators in this tribal village at the base of the Grand Canyon, she started kindergarten a little ahead of her peers. Her teachers at Havasupai Elementary School often asked Siyuja to tutor younger students and sometimes even let her run their classrooms. She graduated valedictorian of her class.
But once she left the K-8 school at the top of her grade, Siyuja stopped feeling so smart.
“I didn’t know math or basic formulas,” she said. “Typing and tech? Nonexistent.”
Siyuja, now 22, wiped tears from her face as she sat alongside her mother and grandmother — the educators of the family — one afternoon last year in the Havasupai Tribal Council chambers. The trio wept as they recalled Siyuja’s move as a teenager to a private boarding school 150 miles away in Sedona, Arizona, which she’d chosen to attend because the federal agency that runs Havasupai Elementary, the only school in her village, provides no options for high school.
Kambria Siyuja, right, plans to teach in Supai, like her mother, Jackie Siyuja, middle, who teaches at the tribe’s preschool program. Grandmother and Havasupai Tribal Council chair Bernadine Jones, left, previously taught at the elementary school. Their tribe’s seal is reflected from a window onto a wall in the council chambers. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
Once there, however, Siyuja discovered how little she’d learned at the Supai school. She had only superficial familiarity with state and U.S. history, and knew none of the literature her peers had read years earlier. She was the only freshman who’d never taken pre-algebra.
Last year, eight years after Siyuja graduated, the K-8 school still did not offer pre-algebra, a course that most U.S. public school students take in seventh or eighth grade, if not earlier. It had no textbooks for math, science or social studies. The school’s remoteness — on a 518-acre reservation the government forcibly relocated the Havasupai people to more than 150 years ago — makes it a challenge to staff, and chronic turnover required the few educators who remained to teach multiple grades at once. Only 3 percent of students test proficiently in either English language arts or math.
“I know they struggle a lot because of how few resources we have down here,” said Siyuja of Supai, which visitors must reach either by an 8-mile hike or helicopter. “But what are they teaching here?”
In 2017, six Havasupai families sued the federal government, alleging that the Bureau of Indian Education, which operates Havasupai Elementary and is housed within the Interior Department, deprived their children of their federal right to an education. The tribe, in a brief supporting the lawsuit, argued that the bureau had allowed Havasupai Elementary to become “the worst school in a deplorable BIE system” and that court intervention was required to protect students from the agency.
The families eventually secured two historic settlements that fueled hopes across Indian Country that true reform might finally improve outcomes both in Supai and perhaps also at BIE schools throughout the U.S.
Related: Become a lifelong learner. Subscribe to our free weekly newsletter featuring the most important stories in education.
So far, the settlements have brought new staff to Supai, and the BIE had to reconstitute the school board. Teachers now must use lesson plans, and they finally have a curriculum to use in English, science and math classes. A new principal pledged to stay longer than a school year.
“We now have some teachers and some repairs to the building that are being done,” said Dinolene Kaska, a mother to three former students and a new school board member. “It has been a long time just to get to this point.”
Valencia Stinson leads a kindergarten class through a lesson matching lowercase letters with their corresponding uppercase letters. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
The legal wins followed an effort to reform the BIE as a whole. In 2014, federal officials unveiled a sweeping plan to overhaul the beleaguered bureau, which had long struggled to deliver better student outcomes with anemic funding. If the BIE were a state, the schools it operates would rank at or very near the bottom of any list for academic achievement.
But in the past decade, and after a nearly doubling of its budget, the BIE has finally started to make some progress. Graduation rates have improved, staff vacancies are down and the bureau built its own data system to track and support student achievement across its 183 campuses in 23 different states. Now, those milestones could be at risk.
President Donald Trump, in his seismic restructuring of the federal government, laid off thousands of workers that will trigger deep cuts to the BIE, among other agencies that work directly on Indian Country. The White House in January also issued an executive order to turn the BIE into a school choice program, draining the bureau of funding and, according to some advocates in Washington, D.C., threatening the government’s long-established trust responsibility to tribal nations. It also remains unclear how the policy would benefit families in isolated communities like Supai where other schooling options are scant or nonexistent.
“Tribes in rural areas don’t have a lot of school choice,” said Quinton Roman Nose, executive director of the Tribal Education Departments National Assembly, a nonprofit that works with tribal education agencies. “For Native students, that’s not a good model. I don’t think it’s going to work for so many.”
Brian Schatz, a Hawaii Democrat and vice chairman of the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs, said the Trump administration’s actions are devastating. “What Trump is doing to the federal government isn’t just reckless — it’s arson,” he said in a statement to The Hechinger Report. “We will do everything we can to ensure that this manufactured chaos does not have lasting impacts on our trust and treaty responsibilities to Native communities.”
Last fall, as conservative critics called for dismantling the BIE and converting its funding into vouchers, longtime director Tony Dearman defended the bureau. He also pitched a new, five-year strategic direction that will emphasize tribal sovereignty and cultural education — both promises the bureau made in its reform agenda more than a decade ago.
“We have really built the capacity of the BIE,” Dearman said. “It’s just taken a while. Anything in the government does.”
Still, he insisted that the BIE could fulfill the government’s obligation to deliver a quality education to tribal nations. “I truly believe that we can handle the trust responsibility with the support from Congress through appropriations,” Dearman said.
For decades, the Department of the Interior, which manages natural resources and wildlife, placed control of schools on tribal reservations within its Bureau of Indian Affairs. The agency oversees law and justice across Indian Country, as well as agriculture, infrastructure, economic development and tribal governance. The agency’s poor management of schools, meanwhile, had been well documented, and in 2006, an internal shakeup resulted in the creation of the BIE.
Almost from the start, the new bureau faced criticism.
In 2008, the Government Accountability Office dinged the BIE for stumbling in its early implementation of the No Child Left Behind education law. A year later, the Nation’s Report Card found Native students in traditional public schools performed much better than those in BIE schools. (About 92 percent of Native students attend traditional public schools and 8 percent attend BIE schools.) Senators scolded the bureau after only 1 in 4 of its schools could meet the new federal education standards. A 2011 report, “Broken Promises, Broken Schools,” cataloged the deterioration of BIE schools, estimating it would cost $1.3 billion to bring every educational facility to an “acceptable” condition.
In 2013, then-Interior Secretary Sally Jewell assembled a study group to diagnose the root causes of academic failures in BIE schools. A year later, the group released the Blueprint for Reform. At its unveiling, Arne Duncan, then the federal education secretary, had damning words for why the BIE needed to change, calling it “the epitome of broken” and “utterly bankrupt.”
The blueprint, issued through a formal secretarial order, called for dramatically restructuring the BIE over two years, starting with its management of tribally controlled schools. In 1988, as part of a renewed focus on tribal sovereignty, Congress had created a grant program to help tribes take control of their respective BIE schools, and as of 2014, a full two-thirds of campuses had already converted.
The 70-page blueprint proposed transforming the agency from a top-down operator of schools into more of an educational services and support center. It would create a division within the BIE to focus on assisting principals with the day-to-day operation of schools. New regional directors and offices would oversee tribally controlled schools, BIE-operated campuses and schools on the sprawling Navajo Nation.
The plan also pitched the addition of “school support solutions teams” at each regional office that would assist with teacher and principal recruitment, school facilities, financial management and technology. A new Office of Sovereignty and Indian Education would help tribes convert their schools to local control and encourage them to shape culture and language classes. Other proposed changes included allowing tribes to tie staff pay to student performance and creating incentives to replicate successful tribally controlled schools.
The study group, however, did not address whether the bureau needed additional funding to pull off the reforms. And without additional funding, the BIE faced deep cuts as budget negotiations pressured then-President Barack Obama to require all federal agencies to reduce their spending by 20 percent.
That essentially tasked the BIE with achieving a turnaround of its failing schools with a fifth less funding. By the time of the blueprint, those cuts were already phasing in: Between 2011 and 2014, for example, the number of full-time administrators located on or near Indian reservations to oversee school spending fell from 22 to 13, leaving the remaining staff to still split 64 reservations among them.
“It was a terrible set up,” said one former top agency official who worked at the BIE during the blueprint’s release. The official, like many of the more than 75 interviewed by The Hechinger Report for this story, spoke on the condition of anonymity because of the DOI’s large role in tribal communities and worries that criticizing the agency could cost them jobs or contracts.
Famous for its turquoise waterfalls — Havasupai means “people of the blue-green water” — Supai village greets visitors at the banks of Havasu Creek.
The creek and waterfalls feed a hidden canyon oasis here. Trees bursting with blooms of apricot and pomegranate offer much-welcome shade for backpacking tourists and the mules carrying their gear. Tribal elders wind their way through Supai’s unmarked dusty roads as children on the preschool playground shield their eyes from sand swirling around the adjacent helipad. Benches, some made from milk crates, ring the town square at the front gate of Havasupai Elementary.
Eight years ago, lawyer Alexis DeLaCruz sat on one of those benches in Supai town square. She had recently started working at the Native American Disability Law Center, a firm based in Farmington, New Mexico, that represents Native Americans with disabilities. The firm had recently hosted a training on special education law for parents, and several from Supai, incensed about their kids’ education, traveled out of the canyon to attend. They convinced DeLaCruz and two colleagues to book a helicopter ride into the village to hear directly from parents about their experiences with the BIE.
Parents described how their children couldn’t tell the difference between North and South America and, despite BIE regulations requiring Native culture in all curriculum areas, the students never had a class in Havasupai culture, history or language. Because of a teacher shortage, children learned in classes that combined students from three or even four grades. The school had 10 principals in as many years. The BIE closed Havasupai Elementary for nearly a month in 2015 because of insufficient staffing.
About 100 students each year enroll in Havasupai Elementary School, one of 183 schools that the Bureau of Indian Education manages on 64 tribal reservations across the U.S. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
Siyuja, who graduated from the school in 2016, remembered cooks and janitors stepping in as teachers — and then having to leave class midday to check on school lunch or plumbing problems.
Until Siyuja reached the fourth grade, Havasupai Elementary, which serves about 80 students, had two tribal members on staff. They led culture and language classes, and Siyuja still owns a copy of the Havasupai dictionary they gifted her as a child. But then they left, and most of the other teachers soon followed, during the 2011-12 school year, she recalled.
That’s when Obama tasked federal agencies with cutting a fifth of their administrative budgets, hollowing out the BIE’s ability to support its schools. In Supai, the already revolving door of educators suddenly started spinning much faster, Siyuja said.
“We were just in this constant loop of relearning the same thing over and over,” she said.
It wasn’t until college, at Fort Lewis College in Colorado, where Siyuja chose to study education, that she learned it was not normal for a school to lump so many grades together in one classroom. “That’s one of the major big no-nos,” she said. (In an email, a BIE spokesperson said, “Many schools implement implement multi-grade instruction as an intentional and effective educational model,” particularly in rural and remote locations, “to enhance individualized learning, maximize resources and promote peer collaboration.”)
In January 2017, nine students from six families sued the BIE and the Interior Department, naming as defendants Dearman, Jewell — who did not respond to interview requests — her deputy assistant secretary and the Havasupai Elementary School principal. The lawsuit listed all plaintiffs under pseudonyms to protect their identity, and the two families involved in the lawsuit who spoke with The Hechinger Report for this story asked to remain anonymous even after the settlements were signed. Some of the students still attend BIE schools, and parents remain worried about exposing any of their children’s privacy, even as adults.
The families hinged their case on a well-established federal right to education for Native American children.
There is no federal right to education in the Constitution, according to a landmark 1973 Supreme Court decision. But for Native Americans, congressional statutes, executive orders, treaties and other Supreme Court opinions dating back virtually to this nation’s founding have cemented education as a major component of the government’s trust responsibility — a set of legal and moral obligations to protect tribal sovereignty and generally look out for the welfare of tribal members. In 1972, lawmakers made it even more clear with the Indian Education Act, which says that the “federal government has the sole responsibility for the operation and financial support” of tribal schools. They also required the BIA — the BIE had not yet been established — to work with tribes to create a system of schools of “the highest quality.” To this day, the BIE pitches itself as a provider of a “world class education.”
DeLaCruz, not long after filing the Havasupai case, started imagining what impact it could have beyond that tiny community.
“Most cases in our legal system end in money,” she said. “This isn’t the same calculus. We’re weighing what we think we can get in place that won’t just make a difference for students now but frankly for generations to come.”
The lead plaintiff in the case was a sixth grader described in the lawsuit as Stephen C. Diagnosed with ADHD, he had never received counseling as mandated in his Individualized Education Program, or IEP, a legal document detailing the interventions and supports that a student with a disability will get from their school. None of the fifth grade teachers the school hired stayed more than two weeks, the lawsuit said, and Stephen C. was taught in a combined sixth, seventh and eighth grade class.
His teacher’s attention split among kids across three grades, Stephen C. started to act out. The school sent him home three to four times a week for behavior issues related to his disability, the lawsuit alleged. Even as an eighth grader, he could barely read or write.
In its friend-of-the-court brief, the Havasupai Tribe said its “people have been isolated at the bottom of one of the world’s most rugged canyons and for more than a century have been forced to depend on the federal government to educate their children.
“Although the days of forced removal and assimilation are over,” the brief continued, “the BIE is still failing its students.”
The federal government didn’t entirely dispute the claims of Stephen C. and his co-plaintiffs.
The BIE and DOI, in June 2017, formally petitioned the U.S. District Court of Arizona to dismiss the case, arguing that the students couldn’t prove the BIE failed or refused to comply with its regulations for what counts as a “basic” education. Also, by that point Stephen C. and four other plaintiffs all had graduated or transferred from Havasupai Elementary, making them ineligible to pursue compensatory educational services, according to the government.
But Lisa Olson, an attorney for the U.S. Department of Justice, also acknowledged the BIE’s shortcomings.
“We are not saying there’s no accountability here. We are just saying that it’s for Congress and the executive to resolve these problems,” Olson said during a November 2019 hearing before U.S. District Judge Steven Logan. “The agency doesn’t dispute that its efforts have been unsatisfactory and they have fallen short.”
Olson asked Logan to consider the many challenges of providing instruction in Supai: There was no funding for an agency helicopter to transport teachers in and out, for example, and new hires often failed their background checks or took other positions before the FBI checks were completed.
“There’s nothing we can do to change that,” she said.
Passengers load into a helicopter at a landing zone next to the preschool’s playground in a central part of Supai village. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
Logan seemed unmoved. “So what you are basically saying, counsel, is it is the problem of the parents, and they need to make better decisions about where they have children so they can be properly educated?” he said. Olson responded, saying, “It is not the parents’ fault, but we need the cooperation of the parents and the community.” She continued, “I’m saying that BIE is doing its best and tries to enlist the support of parents and the tribe.”
The families also presented a secondary argument — that the complex trauma of Native American children qualifies them for services and protections of the sort that are guaranteed for students with disabilities. They argued that exposure to adversity — specifically, the long-lasting trauma from this nation’s official policy to separate Native children from their families in order to eradicate their cultures and seize tribal land — limited their ability to access the benefits of a public education. To this day, Havasupai families must ship their children away to attend high school, often in other states, and the BIE has no plans to open one in the canyon.
The government warned Logan against following that line of logic, cautioning that it would set a dangerous precedent linking childhood adversity to a student’s ability to learn. The families filed their lawsuit under the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, which prevents discrimination against people with disabilities in federal programs. It does not include adversity or trauma on its list of qualifying conditions, and its applicable regulations expressly note that social disadvantage, such as homelessness or family violence, do not count as impairments, the government noted.
Expanding that definition would threaten to impose “unwieldy” obligations on high-poverty schools across the U.S., the government’s attorneys argued.
“The alleged ‘forced relocation, loss of homes, families and culture,’ and poverty within the Havasupai community … do not constitute a physical or mental impairment,” the motion to dismiss reads.
In August 2020, the federal court issued a mixed decision. Logan allowed the case to continue for students with disabilities. The families also persuaded the court that complex trauma — including interaction with juvenile justice systems, extreme poverty and a denial of access to education — qualifies as a protected disability in the rehabilitation law. But he dismissed the general education claims, deciding that the older students, including Stephen C., had aged out of the school and no potential remedy would be precise enough for a court to enforce.
The Havasupai families cheered Logan’s ruling, but only in part. As they continued to pursue the special education claims, the Havasupai families challenged his decision to dismiss the rest of the case. A three-judge panel of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 9th Circuit, which includes Arizona, heard their arguments in February 2022.
“The agency is attempting to comply,” Laura Myron, a Justice Department attorney, told the judges. There are, she added, “numerous, practical obstacles to operating a school at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.”
Kathryn Eidmann, president and CEO of Public Counsel, a pro bono public interest law firm, represented the Havasupai families and argued that their ancestors never chose to permanently live in such an isolated location. The government restricted the tribe to the reservation to make way for Grand Canyon National Park.
Hoai-My Winder, new principal at Havasupai Elementary Schools, holds a student’s hand while walking with him during recess. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
“The obstacles that the government is pointing to that make compliance hard are entirely problems of the government’s own making,” Eidmann said.
In a short five-page decision, the 9th Circuit panel allowed the older students to continue their lawsuit against the BIE. They clarified that judges — namely, Logan — could indeed compel an agency to comply with its own regulations.
The three judges also ruled that the students could seek monetary compensation for the educational services they never received.
Tara Ford, also a pro bono attorney on the Stephen C. case, said at the time that the ruling would reverberate across Indian Country: “Students who have been harmed by the Bureau of Indian Education’s broken promises now have a path to hold the federal government accountable for its failures.”
By then, the students and government had settled the special education claims. Their deal provided each student with $20,000 for compensatory services and required the BIE to follow anti-discrimination provisions of the Rehabilitation Act while creating its first-ever complaint process for parents to challenge suspected discrimination. After the 9th Circuit ruling, however, negotiations to settle the rest of the Stephen C. case stretched beyond a year.
The eventual deal, signed in May 2023, established an $850,000 compensatory education fund for any student who attended Havasupai Elementary since 2011. The BIE estimates about 215 kids could qualify to use that money, meaning each child would receive roughly $4,000, less than some families had hoped for. It also agreed to pay stipends to help recruit and retain teachers in Supai, build additional housing for staff and hire a cultural instructor from the community. The BIE also had to form a new school board.
A year after the case closed, Breanna Bollig, a fellow at the California Tribal Families Coalition, wrote in a legal publication that it could change Native education far beyond Supai.
“The BIE could be held accountable at every other BIE school through similar lawsuits,” Bollig wrote. “Perhaps the federal right to education for Indian children can even be used to improve inadequate and inequitable state public schools that Indian children attend.”
Billy Vides stopped counting at 19.
That’s how many principals he worked with in his first three years as a teacher at Havasupai Elementary. He stayed two more years, submitting his resignation in June.
A longtime educator in Phoenix public schools, Vides first heard of Supai from a pair of grandmothers at an early learning conference. He had considered retiring, but knew he would miss working with kids. Vides searched online for Havasupai, bookmarked an article calling it “America’s Worst Tribal School” and sent in his application.
“I wanted to make a difference,” he said.
The BIE hired Vides in 2019 as a kindergarten and first grade teacher. On his first day, the interim principal assigned him to a combined kindergarten, first, third and fourth grade class. The ages didn’t mix well, he said, and the older kids bullied and sometimes assaulted the younger children.
Joy Van Est, a special education teacher who quit in June, said many of her students’ IEPs had not been updated for several years. It took her four months, the entirety of her tenure there, to update every child’s support plan.
As part of the settlement, an independent monitor every six months must visit Supai and inspect whether the BIE has complied with its own regulations at the school. The monitor must review 104 specific requirements covering student-to-teacher ratios, curriculum taught in each subject, textbooks, grading rules and more. In its first report following a January 2024 visit, the monitor found the bureau in violation of 72 of those requirements.
The school had a curriculum for just one subject — English language arts — and no textbooks for math, science and social studies, the compliance report reads. Teachers used no lesson plans, in any subject, and the school had no librarian. Only one tribal member taught at the school, leading culture and language classes once a week for 45 minutes.
The compliance officer granted the BIE some credit for hiring a school counselor and physical education teacher. However, once-a-week P.E. classes only happened if the part-time teacher could catch a helicopter flight. The counselor started in November 2023, but staff shortages required her to cover teachers’ classrooms too often for her to do any counseling work, the compliance officer found.
The compliance report seemed to have some impact: In the spring, the BIE went on a hiring spree to replenish the beleaguered staff in Supai. A second counselor and special education teacher — Van Est — plus a few additional teachers meant Havasupai Elementary was fully staffed for the first time in years.
A more recent work plan for the school, updated in December, documented further changes: The bureau hired enough staff to meet class size caps. Teachers now submit weekly lesson plans, and the school selected a curriculum and purchased computers for all grades.
The recent recruits include Hoai-My Winder, the school’s new principal. Winder had been working for the Department of Defense, as an administrator at an elementary school in Japan. She previously taught and worked as an assistant principal in Las Vegas, where her family settled after fleeing Vietnam during the fall of Saigon.
Havasupai Elementary School enrolls students from kindergarten through eighth grade. The Bureau of Indian Education directly operates the campus in Supai village, which visitors must reach via an 8-mile hike or helicopter ride. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
“Day Six!” Winder hollered one afternoon this past May as she entered the spiked gates that separate Havasupai Elementary from the rest of the village. It was her tally of the number of days she’d been principal — both at Havasupai Elementary and ever.
While her husband unpacked boxes in their new home, Winder took inventory at her new school. She discovered 40-year-old math textbooks on classroom shelves. Havasupai teachers at some point had created a Supai dictionary and draft curriculum for language instruction; Winder found it collecting dust in a box.
As she met with parents and tribal members during her first week, ahead of the eighth grade graduation ceremony that afternoon, Winder repeated a pledge to stay at Havasupai Elementary for at least five years, maybe 10.
Felicia Siyuja, the longtime school secretary, stood next to Winder as families packed into the cafeteria for the ceremony. As the aroma of frybread wafted from the kitchen, Siyuja tapped the mic before addressing the 13 students sitting in the front row.
“I also want to apologize,” she told the soon-to-be freshmen. “All the teachers and principals rotating for all these years. It was hard for me as a grown-up. I can’t imagine how it was for you.”
Eighth graders wearing turquoise-and-gold colored gowns prepare for their graduation ceremony at Havasupai Elementary School. The tribal village, at the base of the Grand Canyon, is famous for its turquoise waterfalls. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
Aside from Winder and her supervisor, the BIE would not allow The Hechinger Report to interview school staff on the record. But six current or former Havasupai teachers, most of whom spoke on the condition of anonymity, placed blame on the bureau for Havasupai Elementary’s dysfunction.
“The BIE is the problem,” said one teacher. “The BIE lacks humility.”
The educator, who now works at another BIE school, said he never received cultural training to prepare him for working with Native children and families. Several colleagues resigned before winter break his first year in Supai, making him the most veteran teacher on staff.
“I had no curriculum. No student names, no mentor, no oversight or guidance,” he said. “You don’t want to be yet another teacher who comes and goes. After three years, it gets old. It’s just exhausting.”
In a February 10 email, a BIE spokesperson wrote that cultural training, including language preservation, had been scheduled for later that month.
Van Est, who joined the bureau specifically to support its mission of uplifting tribal communities, said last summer that she no longer believed it was capable of doing that job. “The entity that has most recently oppressed the Havasupai people is making absolutely no effort to use education as a tool for repair, as a gold mine for building their future,” she said.
The BIE blames Havasupai Elementary School’s isolation and lack of housing for its troubles.
Even before the Stephen C. lawsuit, the BIE offered lucrative stipends to lure educators to Supai. It also guarantees housing, in theory, but in a pinch has forced teachers to room together. And a recent hiring spree, to satisfy the settlement, has made housing even tighter.
Dearman said a recent housing needs analysis determined the BIE now needs 30 beds in Supai, but has only 12. One teacher simply didn’t return to their position this fall when the bureau couldn’t secure housing for more than a few weeks.
“That puts a major strain on us being able to keep staff there,” Dearman said about the housing shortage. “We have housing needs at other locations as well. However, Havasupai is so isolated that if you’re not able to stay in our quarters there, there’s no other options.”
He said that it’s hard for some educators to uproot their lives to live in Supai. “It’s a difficult place to come in and out of. It really is,” Dearman said.
Poverty surrounds many BIE schools on tribal reservations, largely as a result of former government policies to eradicate Native peoples. In Supai, nearly 40 percent of the tribe lives in poverty, almost four times the national average. Tourism provides an economic bedrock for the Havasupai economy, though many families rely on government assistance.
Vides, the teacher, struggled with his decision to quit. His wife had remained 300 miles away in Phoenix, raising their 3-year-old daughter without him. He missed a lot of her firsts, and felt torn between her and the Havasupai children.
“It was difficult. I was grieving for the future of these students,” Vides said.
“Either the system is continually broken,” he added, “or the system is working successfully to slowly eradicate this tribe.”
Long before Trump’s executive order in January, some conservatives had pushed school choice as a solution to the BIE’s troubles. In 2016, the right-wing Heritage Foundation proposed turning the BIE into an education savings account, or ESA, which would grant families a portion of their child’s per-pupil funding to spend on private school tuition, home-school supplies and other educational expenses. That same year, the late Arizona Sen. John McCain introduced legislation offering ESAs equal to 90 percent of what the BIE spends on each student.
The bill didn’t advance, but Heritage resurrected the idea last year in its Project 2025 transition plan for the next president. Notably, the conservative think tank — despite citing the BIE’s poor track record as justification for converting much of its funding into vouchers — also proposed granting it even more authority over the education of all Native American students, in all U.S. public schools.
In his January order, Trump required the BIE to identify “any available mechanisms” for families to tap federal funding for private and faith-based schools, as well as to report on the performance of its schools and identify alternatives for families to consider. The agency has until April to submit its plan, for implementation this fall. The White House did not respond to several requests for comment.
In certain tribal communities across Arizona, some parents have started to consider opting out of the BIE system. The state passed a universal school voucher program in 2022, giving any family who wants roughly $7,400 to spend on private or parochial schools or other options. Christian academies on the Gila River Indian Community, a reservation near Phoenix, have already used the program to recruit students.
The walls of Havasu Canyon surround the village of Supai, where water from Havasu Creek later connects to the Colorado River at the Grand Canyon. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
But in Supai, some residents worry the ESA option is meaningless. The closest private schools, in Kingman, are more than two hours away. Internet access in the village is virtually nonexistent, a hurdle for any parents trying to teach their kids at home.
The National Indian Education Association, an advocacy group, has yet to issue a position on Trump’s order but said in a statement that it’s “closely monitoring” potential impact on cultural preservation and access to education for Native students. In the past, the group has said BIE is the best option to fulfill the federal government’s responsibility to educate Native students. It blames its poor results on Congress — the branch of government holding the purse strings.
“The BIE in general, they just have a difficult time,” said Roman Nose, with the national group for tribal education departments. He noted that Department of Defense schools — the only other K-12 system run by the federal government — receive more funding. And Roman Nose worried how the recent federal layoffs and school choice proposal could further erode BIE’s ability to fulfill the trust responsibility.
The BIE lost dozens of employees in the recent layoffs, sources told ICT. Among those laid off were approximately 30 from non-school positions in the BIE agency offices, excluding kindergarten through 12th grade schools.
“There won’t be any progress made during this administration,” Roman Nose said. “It’s a difficult job, but these are treaty obligations.”
Dearman, the bureau’s longtime director, insisted that the BIE could fulfill the government’s obligation to deliver a quality education to tribal nations.
Under his leadership, the BIE has secured some financial wins for its schools. Lawmakers now funnel about $235 million into the bureau for school construction – it has asked for more than $400 million – and $150 million for replacing older campuses, according to the agency. Counselors and teachers now make the same amount as their counterparts in Department of Defense schools. And Dearman, a longtime champion of early childhood education, has expanded the bureau’s popular preschool program into more schools.
Traditional beadwork decorates an eighth grader’s graduation cap at a Havasupai Elementary School ceremony. The school’s mascot is the eagle. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
Graduation rates have also climbed. Last year, according to the bureau, 75 percent of its high schoolers earned a diploma on time — a 31 percentage point jump since 2014 and slightly above the national average for Native American students. As of 2021, the last time the BIE reported achievement data, 17 percent of students tested on grade level in English language arts, and 11 percent in math. For three states where the BIE runs two-thirds of its schools, students have posted 8 percentage point increases on English exams and 13-point increases on math exams since 2016, according to the bureau.
The U.S. Government Accountability Office, which has tracked the BIE’s “systemic management weaknesses” since 2013, recently reported that it had achieved substantial progress on school construction and safety. The bureau’s oversight of special education, distance learning and school spending remain open problems, the GAO found, while also noting in its report — released just days before Trump’s recent layoffs — that meager staffing “has been a challenge for BIE for over a decade.”
DeLaCruz left the Native American Disability Law Center in October to work on education litigation for the Tulalip Tribe in northern Washington state. A little more than a year after closing the Havasupai case, she hesitated to call either settlement a win.
Still, she noted in an email that the creation of a school board at Havasupai Elementary had been a big step forward: “The fact there is a community-led School Board to ask questions and voice concerns to the BIE is vital to improving education at Havasupai Elementary School.”
Kambria Siyuja works during her summer break at Supai’s preschool program. Siyuja graduated from Havasupai Elementary School down the road and plans to teach there after graduating from Fort Lewis College next year. Credit: Matt Stensland for The Hechinger Report
The morning after the eighth grade graduation ceremony, Kambria Siyuja walked past her old elementary school as the sun crawled over the rust-red walls of Supai Canyon.
She greeted parents dropping off their sleepy toddlers at the federal Head Start preschool. Siyuja has worked there every summer break in college, hoping to decide whether to pursue a job in early learning or teaching down the road, at Havasupai Elementary.
Her grandmother, Bernadine Jones, attended Havasupai Day School in the 1960s, when it only offered K-2 classes, before attending and graduating from a Phoenix high school. She eventually returned to Supai and taught at her old school and the village preschool for 20 years. Siyuja’s mother teaches at the tribal Head Start program.
Academically, Siyuja finally feels prepared to be a teacher.
“It’s really weird taking a class in college and learning stuff they should have taught me at that elementary school,” she said. “Now I’m really able to understand math, and also teach math.”
This winter, Siyuja returned home for break with big news. Not only had she finally finished remedial math and qualified for a math class this past semester that would earn her full college credit, she’d passed it, receiving a B.
Siyuja also recently learned she qualified for about $3,500 from the Stephen C. settlement. She said she had planned to use the money to pay for her spring semester of college, but as of February, had not heard back from a BIE representative about the payment.
She graduates from Fort Lewis College, the former site of a notorious Indian boarding school, in 2026.
Despite her misgivings about the BIE, she said she views becoming an educator at the school as the best way possible to help her community. “I just want the younger kids to have a much better education than we got.”
Contact staff writer Neal Morton at 212-678-8247 or [email protected].
This story about the Bureau of Indian Education was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education, in collaboration with ICT (formerly Indian Country Today). Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter. Sign up for the ICT newsletter.
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 University of California Student Association’s request to block Department of Government Efficiency staffers from accessing student data at the Department of Education was denied Monday by a federal district judge.
The lawsuit, filed earlier this month, accused the department of illegally sharing confidential student data, arguing it violated the 1974 Privacy Act and confidentiality provisions of the Internal Revenue Code by giving DOGE access to records that contain tax information.
But Judge Randolph D. Moss of the District Court for the District of Columbia said there wasn’t an immediate threat, citing testimony from Adam Ramada, a DOGE staffer, who said that he and his team were only assisting the department with auditing for waste, fraud and abuse and that DOGE staffers understood the need to comply with data privacy laws.
“None of those initiatives should involve disclosure of any sensitive, personal information about any UCSA members,” Moss, an Obama appointee, wrote in his ruling. “The future injuries that UCSA’s members fear are, therefore, far from likely, let alone certain and great.”
Other higher education groups have raised concerns about DOGE’s access to education data, as the department’s databases house students’ personal information, including dates of birth, contact information and Social Security numbers. Some student advocates worry the data could be illegally shared with other agencies and used for immigration enforcement. Moss, however, called those harms “entirely conjectural,” saying Ramada had attested that the data was not being used in such ways.
Although the temporary restraining order was denied, the overall lawsuit will continue to work its way through the courts, and other legal challenges are emerging, The Washington Post reported.
A coalition of labor unions, including the American Federation of Teachers, is also suing to block DOGE’s access to the sensitive data. This latest lawsuit argues that agencies—including Education, Labor and Personnel Management—are improperly disclosing the records of millions of Americans in violation of the Privacy Act.
The Education Department’s Office for Civil Rights declared all race-conscious student programming, resources and financial aid illegal over the weekend and threatened to investigate and rescind federal funding for any institution that does not comply within 14 days.
In a Dear Colleague letter published late Friday night, acting assistant secretary for civil rights Craig Trainor outlined a sweeping interpretation of the Supreme Court’s 2023 ruling in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard, which struck down affirmative action. While the decision applied specifically to admissions, the Trump administration believes it extends to all race-conscious spending, activities and programming at colleges.
“In recent years, American educational institutions have discriminated against students on the basis of race, including white and Asian students,” Trainor wrote. “These institutions’ embrace of pervasive and repugnant race-based preferences and other forms of racial discrimination have emanated throughout every facet of academia.”
The letter mentions a wide range of university programs and policies that could be subject to an OCR investigation, including “hiring, promotion, compensation, financial aid, scholarships, prizes, administrative support, discipline, housing, graduation ceremonies, and all other aspects of student, academic, and campus life.”
“Put simply, educational institutions may neither separate or segregate students based on race, nor distribute benefits or burdens based on race,” Trainor writes.
Backlash to the letter came swiftly on Saturday from Democratic lawmakers, student advocates and academic freedom organizations.
“This threat to rip away the federal funding our public K-12 schools and colleges receive flies in the face of the law,” Senator Patty Murray, Democrat of Washington, wrote in a statement Saturday. “While it’s anyone’s guess what falls under the Trump administration’s definition of ‘DEI,’ there is simply no authority or basis for Trump to impose such a mandate.”
But most college leaders have, so far, remained silent.
Brian Rosenberg, the former president of Macalester College and now a visiting professor of education at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, wrote in an email to Inside Higher Ed that the letter was “truly dystopian” and, if enforced, would upend decades of established programs and initiatives to improve success and access for marginalized students.
“It goes well beyond the Supreme Court ruling on admissions and declares illegal a wide range of common practices,” he wrote. “In my career I’ve never seen language of this kind from any government agency in the United States.”
The Dear Colleague letter also seeks to close multiple exceptions and potential gaps left open by the Supreme Court ruling on affirmative action and to lay the groundwork for investigating programs that “may appear neutral on their face” but that “a closer look reveals … are, in fact, motivated by racial considerations.”
Chief Justice John Roberts wrote that colleges could legally consider a student’s racial identity as part of their experience as described in personal essays, but the OCR letter rejects that.
“A school may not use students’ personal essays, writing samples, participation in extracurriculars, or other cues as a means of determining or predicting a student’s race and favoring or disfavoring such students,” Trainor wrote.
Going even further beyond the scope of the SFFA decision, the letter forbids any race-neutral university policy that could conceivably be a proxy for racial consideration, including eliminating standardized test score requirements.
It also addresses university-sanctioned programming and curricula that “teach students that certain racial groups bear unique moral burdens that others do not,” a practice that Trainor argues can “deny students the ability to participate fully in the life of a school.”
The department will provide “additional legal guidance” for institutions in the coming days.
That wide-reaching interpretation of the SFFA decision has been the subject of vigorous debate among lawmakers and college leaders, and in subsequentcourt battles ever since the ruling was handed down. Many experts assumed the full consequences of the vague ruling would be hammered out through further litigation, but with the Dear Colleague letter, the Trump administration is attempting to enforce its own reading of the law through the executive branch.
Even Edward Blum, the president of Students for Fair Admissions, doesn’t believe the ruling on his case applies outside of admissions.
“The SFFA opinion didn’t change the law for those policies [in internships and scholarships],” he told Inside Higher Ed a few days before the OCR letter was published. “But those policies have always been, in my opinion, outside of the scope of our civil rights law and actionable in court.”
What Comes Next
The department has never revoked a college or state higher education agency’s federal funding over Title VI violations. If the OCR follows through on its promises, it would be an unprecedented exercise of federal influence over university activities.
The letter is likely to be challenged in court, but in the meantime it could have a ripple effect on colleges’ willingness to continue funding diversity programs and resources for underrepresented students.
Adam Harris, a senior fellow at the left-leaning think tank New America, is looking at how colleges responded to DEI and affirmative action orders in red states like Florida, Missouri, Ohio and Texas for clues as to how higher education institutions nationwide might react to the letter.
In Texas, colleges first renamed centers for marginalized students, then shuttered them after the state ordered it was not enough to comply with an anti-DEI law; they also froze or revised all race-based scholarships. In Missouri, after the attorney general issued an order saying the SFFA decision should apply to scholarships as well as admissions, the state university system systematically eliminated its race-conscious scholarships and cut ties with outside endowments that refused to change their eligibility requirements.
“We’ve already seen the ways institutions have acquiesced to demands in ways that even go past what they’ve been told to do by the courts,” Harris said.
The letter portrays the rise of DEI initiatives and race-conscious programming on college campuses as a modern civil rights crisis. Trainor compared the establishment of dormitories, facilities, cultural centers and even university-sanctioned graduation and matriculation ceremonies that are advertised as being exclusively or primarily for students of specific racial backgrounds to Jim Crow–era segregation.
“In a shameful echo of a darker period in this country’s history, many American schools and universities even encourage segregation by race at graduation ceremonies and in dormitories and other facilities,” Trainor wrote.
Harris, who studies the history of racial discrimination on college campuses, said he finds that statement deeply ironic and worrying.
“A lot of these diversity programs and multicultural centers on campuses were founded as retention tools to help students who had been shut out of higher education in some of these institutions for centuries,” Harris said. “To penalize institutions for taking those steps to help students, that is actually very much an echo of the segregation era.”
As we head towards the federal election, both sides of politics are making a point of criticising universities and questioning their role in the community.
Please login below to view content or subscribe now.
Kristin Comrie is set to graduate this semester with a master’s in health informatics from a fully remote program that she balances with a full-time job. But the federal hiring freeze has thrown a wrench into her plans, prompting the Veterans Health Administration to cancel her unpaid internship, which she needed to fulfill a graduation requirement.
It wasn’t easy to find an opportunity that fit in with her job and schoolwork, but the VHA internship sounded ideal; she could work remotely, and the team at the VHA seemed happy to accommodate her busy schedule. Slated to start Feb. 10, she had just finished her background check and fingerprinting when she received notice that the internship had been canceled.
“I got a generic email that they were rescinding the offer because of the federal hiring freeze,” Comrie recalled.
The news left her “scrambling” to find another internship that she could finish in time to graduate in May. Two weeks later, she hasn’t yet found a new position but said she might be able to coordinate with her current employer to take on additional responsibilities in order to fulfill the requirement.
Comrie isn’t the only student to have had a federal employment opportunity abruptly rescinded. The hiring freeze appears to have forced federal agencies to cancel numerous internships; most prominently, thousands of legal internships and entry-level positions within the Department of Justice and beyond have been impacted, according to reports on social media and in news outlet like Reuters and Law360.
“We’ve most definitely seen impacts of the federal hiring freeze and subsequent actions related to college recruiting and internships. We’re hearing from colleges that there have been internships that have been canceled and we have heard that federal agencies have pulled out of going onto campuses to recruit,” said Shawn VanDerziel, executive director of the National Association of Colleges and Employers, an advocacy group for campus career centers and the businesses that work with them. “I would hope once the dust settles over the coming weeks and months that we will have many more answers and that the trajectory will be more positive.”
It represents a stark contrast from just a year ago, when the federal government finalized regulations to expand internship opportunities in an effort to hire younger talent. Government employees skew Gen X and older, with those over 55 making up a third of federal workers and those under 30 composing just 8 percent. To keep the government well staffed as the aging workforce retires, officials vowed to cultivate a younger demographic.
“Early career programs are critical to recruit the next generation of government leaders,” then–Office of Personnel Management director Kiran Ahuja told Government Executive, a publication focused on the federal government, in a statement. “The updates to the Pathways Programs will increase opportunities and remove barriers to hire interns, fellows, apprentices, recent students and trainees, which will help federal agencies boost their talent pipelines to serve the American people. No matter what your interests are, the federal government offers opportunities in nearly every sector and every industry.”
Those rules, finalized last April, went into effect in December, meaning they were in place for just over a month before the hiring freeze began on Inauguration Day.
For students, working in government is a rare opportunity to explore certain career specializations that are difficult to study elsewhere, like diplomacy. Federal internships often allow students to experience America’s center of government firsthand—and to get their foot in the door for a dream job.
“If you got a federal government internship, it means you’re quite capable,” said Brian Swarts, director of Pepperdine University’s D.C. program, one of approximately 40 satellite campuses in the capital dedicated to supporting and educating student interns. “It’s much more advanced than other internships. Generally speaking, students who have acquired a government internship are very excited about those opportunities … they’re seeing this as their one opportunity to move forward with a future role in the government.”
Inside Higher Ed reached out to a handful of the agencies that have reportedly cut internships—the Department of Justice, the Environmental Protection Agency, Health and Human Services, and Veterans Affairs.
In response to a series of questions, an EPA spokesperson responded,“There have been no mass cancellations of EPA internships. The EPA is diligently implementing President Trump’s executive orders and associated guidance.”
The other three offices did not respond to requests for comment.
Since the hiring freeze went into effect, the administration has carved out some exceptions, saying that agencies are “permitted” to make allowances for internships through the Pathways Programs, centralized programs that install interns, recent graduates and midcareer fellows across various agencies, aiming to convert them into full-time employees.
But the majority of interns for federal agencies are not part of the Pathways Programs.
Other exceptions would have to be carved out by the agencies themselves on a case-by-case basis, McLaurine Pinover, a spokesperson for OPM, said in an email.
Katie Romano, executive director of the Archer Center, which supports students from the University of Texas system in pursuing internships in D.C., told Inside Higher Ed that two current Archer fellows had spring semester internships rescinded—one a full-time and one a part-time position—but both have been able to transition to other opportunities in the city.
A director of another college’s D.C. program, who asked to remain anonymous, said no students from her institution had lost federal internships this spring. But she said that’s likely because several students backed out of opportunities with federal agencies after Trump was elected because they disagreed with his politics or feared chaos under his administration.
“My fear from a macro level is we’re going to turn off an entire generation of young people from civil service as they’re watching all of this. If you were 21 and thinking about what you were going to do after graduation and looking for an internship that would set you up for success and you see this going on, you might just choose to pivot your entire plan,” she said.
‘It’s Been Very Stressful’
Law students, in particular, have found themselves struggling to find new opportunities; since most law interns are hired months before their onboarding date, few private firms have spots left, leaving those who lost internships with minimal options for summer work.
“In the law school world, not working on your summers is not necessarily going to destroy your future career, but a lot of postgrad employers look at that quizzically,” said Dylan Osborne, a second-year Brooklyn Law School student who was slated to work at the Internal Revenue Service this summer until he received an email that the internship had been canceled due to the hiring freeze.
Moreover, many of the students with federal job offers in hand had already begun making arrangements to live in D.C. for the summer.
One second-year law student said that while she was fortunate not to have signed a lease in D.C. before her internship offer was rescinded, she’d already told her current landlord she would not be renewing her lease, which expires in May.
Now, with no job on the horizon, the student, who requested anonymity out of fear of jeopardizing her career, said she is “in limbo,” unsure where she will live or how much money she will earn over the summer.
Since she received notice that her internship was canceled, she now spends as many as five hours a day applying for positions and talking on the phone with firms.
“It’s been very stressful, especially because I took on extra responsibilities knowing I didn’t have to worry about the [job] application process,” she said. “It’s like taking on another job in itself.”
Andrew Nettels, a third-year law student at George Washington University whose permanent job offer from the DOJ was rescinded, has organized a massive group chat of law students and new lawyers whose employment prospects were impacted by the hiring freeze. He said few members of the group—which maintains a document of opportunities and firms taking interns—have had success finding replacement positions.
“I’m not personally aware of anyone finding anything new. I’m aware of maybe three people who have had interviews,” he said, noting that members of the chat are encouraged to share their successes. “This isn’t to place any blame at all on the private sector—we’re already several months off the recruitment cycle … their hiring committees have been trying to figure out whether they’d be in a financial position as a firm to commit to hiring one or two or however many students for the summer, and even postgraduates—it’s a huge commitment.”
Professors, administrators and career center specialists are also working diligently to help students secure replacement positions, with some reaching out to their networks on social media in the hopes of finding leads.
“The old saying ‘it takes a village’ could not be more appropriate right now. I have no doubt my LinkedIn ‘village’ can help not just William & Mary Law School students but also students at other schools who are anxiously and unexpectedly having to pivot as a result of the hiring freeze,” wrote Michael Ende, associate dean for career services at William & Mary Law School, in a LinkedIn post.
According to an emailed statement from William & Mary Law School dean A. Benjamin Spencer, 13 students lost their summer internships due to the hiring freeze, and others likely would have secured positions at federal agencies in the coming months.
“We have met or will be meeting with every student who lost their positions with federal agencies (including graduating 3Ls who lost post-graduation offers). We are helping them to restart their job searches, which includes helping them figure out what types of positions to target and getting them connected to alumni and others in the profession who have been offering their assistance by sharing internship and job openings and expressing a willingness to speak with impacted students to guide them in this time of need,” Spencer wrote.
Osborne said that he has heard from some law students who are still hoping that their positions might be reinstated after the hiring freeze is slated to end in late April. But it’s a gamble most, including Osborne, aren’t willing to take.
“There are some people who are hoping to wait the spring out and see if their positions are unfrozen, so to speak,” he said. “But given the attitude the administration has towards the IRS, I don’t think I’m going to be one of those people.”
