Tag: Politics

  • Colleges struggle to make manufacturing training hot again

    Colleges struggle to make manufacturing training hot again

    ELYRIA, Ohio — Nolan Norman had no idea what microelectronic manufacturing entailed when his adviser at Midview High suggested he take the school’s new class on it last year. 

    Yet once he started fusing metal to circuit boards, he says he was hooked. “When I was little, I thought that wizards made these things,” the 18-year-old joked of the electronics he’s now able to assemble. Despite long “hating” the idea of college, he was motivated to enroll in the microelectronic manufacturing bachelor’s degree program at nearby Lorain County Community College this fall. He’s spent the summer working in a job in the field that gives him both college credit and pays $18 an hour. Said Norman: “Now I’m seeing the path to get to be one of these wizards.” 

    Norman’s path wasn’t accidental: Two years ago, Lorain County Community College partnered with Midview High to create the course, one of several ways the college is trying to recruit and train more young people for jobs in manufacturing. 

    Nationally, more than 400,000 manufacturing jobs are going unfilled, many of them in advanced manufacturing, which requires the sort of high-tech skills and postsecondary credentials that Norman is working toward. President Donald Trump is leveraging tariffs in part, he has said, to grow manufacturing jobs in the United States, including those that involve machinery or robotics and training after high school.

    Nolan Norman, 18, an incoming freshman at Lorain County Community College, observes a circuit board under a microscope on Aug. 6 in Elyria, Ohio. Credit: Dustin Franz for The Hechinger Report

    Yet as it is, colleges have struggled to add and revise their training based on employer input and prepare students for tomorrow’s jobs, not just today’s. In the area surrounding Lorain County Community College, officials estimate that they’d have to teach four times the number of students to meet today’s unfilled manufacturing jobs.

    Gogebic Community College, in rural Michigan, suspended its 22-year-old manufacturing technology program this spring because of low enrollment. “We could not get people into it,” registrar Karen Ball said, speaking in her personal capacity and not on behalf of the institution. “The needs in manufacturing are evolving so quickly, that to stay on top of it is too difficult.”

    And then there is the history of manufacturing in communities like Norman’s, where so many factories moved to other countries in recent decades. The manufacturing workforce in the Great Lakes region shrunk by 35 percent between 2000 and 2010, a loss of 1.6 million jobs. But nationwide manufacturing has seen some recovery since then, rising from 11.5 million manufacturing jobs in 2010 to 12.9 million today, according to an analysis by the Economic Innovation Group. 

    “If your family experienced tumultuous layoffs in steel or automotives, they may see manufacturing as a risky pathway rather than a solid pathway,” said Marisa White, vice president for enrollment management and student services at Lorain County Community College. “Individuals are like, ‘I don’t want my kids to go into something like that.’”

    Related: Interested in more news about colleges and universities? Subscribe to our free biweekly higher education newsletter.

    White and other Lorain officials, though, have been slowly making strides in adding more students in recent years — and in trying to keep up with the needs of companies. 

    Printed circuit boards before components are attached in a lab at Lorain County Community College in Elyria, Ohio. Credit: Dustin Franz for The Hechinger Report

    In addition to partnering with Midview High, staff from the college set up tables at food banks and Boys and Girls Clubs where they answer questions about its manufacturing degree and certificate programs, and even partner with a nearby manufacturing nonprofit that uses holograms and a robot dog to get the attention of high school students. That is paying off, officials say. The college now produces 120 graduates each year in advanced manufacturing — a category that includes industrial engineering tech, mechanical engineering tech, welding, automation and microelectronics — compared to 43, a decade ago.

    It has also cultivated a large network of local employers and a system to do market research before launching certificate programs. In some cases, it partners with companies that pay for employees to get training at Lorain college. In a classroom on a recent Wednesday, one of those electrician apprentices, Tyler Tector, 25, had rigged a series of plastic tubes to a small air pump. He hoped it would generate enough suction to keep its grip on his lab partner’s smartphone, which dangled precariously in the air (and already had a cracked screen from some previous misadventure).

    The assignment was part of a class in practical applications of fluid power. Tector’s employer, Ford Motor Co., was sending him and a small group of other apprentice electricians to take this class once a week, so they could better work with the growing number of robots at the local engine plant.

    Nick Wade, an electrical apprentice for Ford Motor Co., works on a circuitry exercise during professor Brian Iselin’s practical applications of fluid power course at Lorain County Community College in Elyria, Ohio. Credit: Dustin Franz for The Hechinger Report

    “Robots are the best co-workers,” joked Tector, who added that he’s not worried about bots putting him out of a job because so many humans are needed to fix them. “They do exactly what you tell them to do. They don’t ask questions. They don’t yell and complain.” They are finicky though, he added. If anything in a robot’s area gets bumped out of place even a fraction of an inch, that could throw the machine off and require reprogramming.

    So many employers told college officials they need technicians with basic knowledge across a range of trades that the college is starting a new associate degree program in the fall called Multicraft Industrial Maintenance that will include lessons like the one Tector is doing but in a condensed format. 

    “Because of the high-tech nature of things, employers don’t want students siloed into trades anymore,” said Brian Iselin, an assistant professor in manufacturing who is leading the effort. 

    Johnny Vanderford, who leads the college’s microelectronic manufacturing degree program, often spends part of his lunch break scouring LinkedIn for the latest job postings by local employers to see what skills they are looking for. His program’s model involves finding every student a paid internship, and students can take classes two days a week or in the evening to have the rest of the time free for paid work in the field. 

    Professor Brian Iselin teaches a course to employees of Ford’s Cleveland Engine Plant No. 1 at Lorain County Community College in Elyria, Ohio. Credit: Dustin Franz for The Hechinger Report

    Vanderford pointed to a PowerPoint slide showing more than 90 manufacturing companies in the area he said the college has worked with: “We basically tailor our curriculum to meet their workforce needs.” In some cases that means wedging into a class syllabus training on some specialized machine that might be used at only a handful of employers.

    Rather than simply having advisory committees with a few large companies that meet occasionally, today Lorain and many other colleges follow a model that involves frequent discussions with company leaders, instructors directly participating in those meetings and a greater focus on the skills employers need. 

    “Those relationships take time,” said Shalin Jyotishi, managing director of the Future of Work and Innovation Economy Initiative at the think tank New America. He says that it is hard for other community colleges to replicate best practices from Lorain because they are labor-intensive to enact.

    Employers also have a tendency to change their plans. For instance, when Tesla pledged to build an electrical vehicle plant in Flint, Michigan, the local Mott Community College started an EV program, said Jyotishi. But the plant never came. “The college still has a Tesla sign,” he said.

    Related: After its college closes, a rural community fights to keep a path to education open 

    The numbers no longer add up at Gogebic Community College, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. 

    When the college suspended its program in manufacturing technology in May, it had just three students.

    As with many programs at the college, a single employee was charged with administering and teaching. Doing all that plus staying on top of nearby companies’ workforce needs was “unsustainable,” said Ball, the registrar.

    The few small manufacturers in the area all say they have different needs, rather than one clear set of skills, she said, noting that “you can’t be a generalist in manufacturing.” Even when the college does identify a needed skill to teach, it takes at least six months to a year to get the program approved by college leaders and the accreditor. By then, companies might need something different. 

    And the pay offered by small manufacturers is often low, despite an expectation of training beyond a high school diploma, said Ball.

    The Richard Desich SMART Center at Lorain County Community College in Elyria, Ohio, houses the microelectronic manufacturing systems program, which teaches students about the manufacture of semiconductors. Credit: Dustin Franz for The Hechinger Report

    Nationwide, automation has reduced the earning power for many manufacturing jobs, said Jyotishi of New America. “For a long time manufacturing was the bedrock of the middle class,” said Jyotishi. “That wage premium for manufacturing has actually gone away.” 

    And there’s a danger that as colleges aim to please employers, they will create programs that are too narrow, argues Davis Jenkins, senior research scholar at Columbia University’s Community College Research Center. (Editor’s note: The Hechinger Report, which produced this story, is an independent unit of Columbia’s Teachers College.) “You don’t want specific skills training — you don’t want to just train students to work in a fab,” he said, referring to a facility where microchips and other electronics are produced. “Whenever schools buy a lot of specific equipment for training, I worry a lot. What students really need are broader skills.”

    Even Lorain doesn’t always find the right fit. During the pandemic, the college started what it calls fast-track programs, which typically run 16 weeks, across a range of professional fields (not just manufacturing). But because of mixed success attracting students, officials recently slimmed the list from 60 to 13, said Tracy Green, vice president of strategic and institutional development at Lorain County Community College. And the college recently started winding down a program in industrial safety because of a lack of student interest, even though there are still a large number of job postings by local companies for jobs with those skills, said Iselin. 

    One provision in Trump’s new “one big, beautiful bill” promises a boost to manufacturing education, however. For the first time, the law will allow low-income students to use federal Pell Grants for short-term certificate programs, in what is known as Workforce Pell. It’s a change many community college leaders have been calling for for years as they have created more short-term programs in response to demand by students and employers who want to quickly gain new skills in fast-changing areas, including manufacturing. But that program won’t be up and running until the 2026-27 academic year. 

    Related: Colleges partnered with an EV battery factory to train students and ignite the economy. Trump’s clean energy war complicates their plans

    The promise of a big new employer moving to town can galvanize student interest in manufacturing. 

    In Ohio, the talk for years has been a $28 billion Intel chip manufacturing plant under construction in Columbus. The facility is expected to bring some 3,000 jobs to the area, and the company has committed $50 million to workforce education in the state, including $2 million to Lorain County Community College, which it used to buy new classroom equipment, support student scholarships, and pay for program development and instructor training.

    Chris Dukles, 36, an electrician apprentice for Ford Motor Co., takes notes during a course taught by Brian Iselin at Lorain County Community College. Credit: Dustin Franz for The Hechinger Report

    The top graduates in Lorain County Community College’s microelectronic manufacturing program each year typically get internships at Intel’s closest existing plant, which is in Chandler, Arizona, a suburb of Phoenix. It’s a motivator to work hard in their classes, some students say.

    Lia Douglas, a student in the microelectronic manufacturing program at Lorain, scored one of those slots and headed to Arizona last summer. The experience, though, was sobering. 

    “My plan really was to make a good impression with my internship, get a job maybe in Arizona even if it was for a year or two, and then try to move back to Ohio when they have an Ohio plant,” she said. 

    But one day last July, all the employees were unexpectedly summoned to an all-hands call where the company announced a wave of layoffs and reductions in some benefits that had interested Douglas, including a sabbatical program. This year, Intel announced that the opening of the Ohio plant has been delayed until 2030. 

    “I learned I had a little too much faith in a company and the promises of a company,” she said. “And it reminded me that at the end of the day, the company has to make money.”

    She’s still glad she chose Lorain’s program, which has landed her several local internships and opened her eyes to the many small and mid-sized manufacturers in the area. 

    Lia Douglas is a student in the microelectronic manufacturing program at Lorain County Community College. Credit: Dustin Franz for The Hechinger Report

    And she has been hooked on a career in making things ever since she was in middle school and a family friend taught her a bit of welding. Her hero was Adam Savage, co-host of the TV show “MythBusters,” who she even got to meet at a comic book convention in Cleveland.

    Douglas complains that students are told in high school that they either have to choose a trade for hands-on work or an academic track to prepare for a career behind a desk that might involve design and project management. She says that as manufacturing changes, there’s plenty of room to do both. In fact, she says, when a group of doctoral students from Kent State University recently visited the college’s clean room, she was amused to see them struggle with some of the tools the students routinely use in the microelectronic manufacturing program.

    “It takes as much brainpower to figure out what is the right tool for the right process as getting a Ph.D.,” she said. 

    Contact editor Caroline Preston at 212-870-8965, via Signal at CarolineP.83 or on email at [email protected]

    This story about manufacturing jobs was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.

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  • ¿Qué ha pasado desde que Texas eliminó las matrículas estatales para los estudiantes indocumentados?

    ¿Qué ha pasado desde que Texas eliminó las matrículas estatales para los estudiantes indocumentados?

    SAN ANTONIO — Ximena tenía un plan. 

    La joven de 18 años de Houston iba a comenzar clases este otoño en la Universidad de Texas en Tyler, donde le habían concedido una beca de 10.000 dólares al año. Esperaba que eso le permitiera alcanzar su sueño: un doctorado en Química, seguido de una carrera como profesora o investigadora.

    “Y entonces se produjo el cambio en la matrícula estatal, y fue entonces cuando supe con certeza que tenía que dar un giro”, dijo Ximena. (The Hechinger Report se refiere a ella solo por su nombre de pila porque ella teme represalias por su situación migratoria).

    Aunque Ximena pasó sus primeros años en el norte de México, la mayoría de sus recuerdos son de después de mudarse a Estados Unidos con su padre. Ha asistido a escuelas en Estados Unidos desde el jardín de infancia y, para ella, el 12.º grado consistió principalmente en explicar conceptos avanzados de química a sus compañeros de clase y dirigir laboratorios como asistente de enseñanza.

    Pero en junio, los sueños de Ximena se vieron truncados cuando la oficina del fiscal general de Texas y la administración Trump colaboraron para poner fin a las disposiciones de una ley estatal que ofrecía a miles de estudiantes indocumentados como ella tasas de matrícula más bajas en las universidades públicas de Texas. Los funcionarios estatales y federales argumentaron con éxito ante los tribunales que la política vigente desde hacía mucho tiempo discriminaba a los ciudadanos estadounidenses de otros estados que pagaban una tasa más alta. Ese razonamiento se ha replicado ahora en demandas similares contra Kentucky, Oklahoma y Minnesota, como parte de una ofensiva más amplia contra el acceso de los inmigrantes a la educación pública.

    En la UT Tyler, la matrícula y las tasas estatales para el próximo año académico ascienden a un total de 9.736 dólares, frente a los más de 25.000 dólares que pagan los estudiantes de fuera del estado. Ximena y su familia no podían permitirse el elevado coste de la matrícula, por lo que la joven se retiró. En su lugar, se matriculó en el Houston Community College, donde los costos para los estudiantes de fuera del estado son de 227 dólares por hora semestral, casi tres veces más que la tarifa para los residentes en el distrito. La escuela solo ofrece clases básicas de química de nivel universitario, por lo que, para prepararse para un doctorado o para trabajar en investigaciones especializadas, Ximena seguirá necesitando encontrar la manera de pagar una universidad de cuatro años en el futuro.

    Su difícil situación es precisamente lo que los legisladores estatales de ambos partidos políticos esperaban evitar cuando aprobaron la Texas Dream Act o Ley de Sueños de Texas, una ley de 2001 que no solo abrió las puertas de la educación superior a los estudiantes indocumentados, sino que también tenía por objeto reforzar la economía y la mano de obra de Texas a largo plazo. Con esa ley, Texas se convirtió en el primero de más de dos docenas de estados en aplicar la matrícula estatal a los estudiantes indocumentados, y durante casi 24 años, esta política histórica se mantuvo intacta. Los legisladores conservadores propusieron repetidamente su derogación, pero a pesar de los años de control de un solo partido en la legislatura estatal, no hubo suficientes republicanos que apoyaran la derogación, incluso esta primavera, días antes de que la oficina del fiscal general de Texas y el Departamento de Justicia federal decidieran ponerle fin.

    Ahora, a medida que se acerca el semestre de otoño, los estudiantes inmigrantes están sopesando si darse de baja de sus cursos o esperar a que se aclare cómo les afecta el acuerdo de consentimiento firmado por el estado y el Departamento de Justicia. Los defensores de los inmigrantes temen que las universidades de Texas estén excluyendo a posibles alumnos que se encuentran en situación legal y siguen reuniendo los requisitos para pagar la matrícula estatal a pesar de la sentencia judicial, incluidos los beneficiarios del programa de Acción Diferida para los Llegados en la Infancia (DACA), los solicitantes de asilo y los que tienen Estatus de Protección Temporal o TPS, porque el personal de la universidad carece de conocimientos sobre inmigración y no ha recibido directrices claras sobre quién debe pagar exactamente la matrícula más alta.

    En el Austin Community College, que presta servicio a un área tan grande como el estado de Connecticut, los miembros del consejo de administración no están seguros de cómo aplicar correctamente la sentencia judicial. Mientras esperan respuestas, hasta ahora han decidido no enviar cartas a sus estudiantes solicitándoles información confidencial para determinar las tasas de matrícula.

    Una valla publicitaria que promociona el Austin Community College en español se encuentra en una autopista que conduce a Lockhart, Texas. Credit: Sergio Flores for The Hechinger Report

    “Esta confusión perjudicará inevitablemente a los estudiantes, porque lo que vemos es que, ante la falta de información y la presencia del miedo y la ansiedad, los estudiantes optarán por no continuar con la educación superior o se esconderán en las sombras y se sentirán como miembros marginados de la comunidad”, afirmó Manuel González, vicepresidente del consejo de administración del ACC.

    Por su parte, los expertos en políticas públicas advierten de que la mano de obra de Texas podría verse afectada, ya que los jóvenes con talento, muchos de los cuales han cursado toda su educación en el sistema de escuelas públicas del estado, ya no podrán permitirse los títulos de asociado y licenciatura que les permitirían seguir carreras que ayudarían a impulsar sus economías locales. En virtud de la Ley Texas Dream, los beneficiarios estaban obligados a comprometerse a solicitar la residencia permanente legal lo antes posible, lo que les daba la oportunidad de mantener puestos de trabajo relacionados con sus títulos. Sin la condición de residentes, es probable que sigan trabajando, pero en empleos peor remunerados y menos visibles.

    Relacionado: ¿Te interesa recibir más noticias sobre universidades? Suscríbete a nuestro boletín quincenal gratuito de educación superior.

    “Es una visión muy cortoplacista en lo que respecta al bienestar del estado de Texas”, afirmó Barbara Hines, antigua profesora de Derecho que ayudó a los legisladores a redactar la Ley Texas Dream.

    A principios de siglo, casi dos décadas después de que los niños indocumentados obtuvieran el derecho a asistir a la escuela pública en Estados Unidos, los estudiantes inmigrantes y sus defensores seguían frustrados porque la universidad seguía estando fuera de su alcance.

    Para el mayor general retirado de la Guardia Nacional del Ejército Rick Noriega, un demócrata que en ese momento formaba parte de la Legislatura de Texas, esa realidad le tocó de cerca cuando se enteró de que un joven trabajador de su distrito quería matricularse en el community college local para estudiar mecánica aeronáutica, pero no podía permitirse pagar la matrícula fuera del estado.

    Noriega llamó a la oficina del rector de la escuela, que pudo proporcionar fondos para que el estudiante se inscribiera. Pero esa experiencia le llevó a preguntarse: ¿cuántos niños más de su distrito se enfrentaban a las mismas barreras para acceder a la educación superior?

    Así que colaboró con un sociólogo para encuestar a los estudiantes de las escuelas secundarias locales sobre el problema, que resultó ser muy frecuente. Y el distrito de Noriega no era una excepción. En un estado que durante mucho tiempo ha tenido una de las mayores poblaciones de inmigrantes no autorizados del país, los políticos de todos los partidos conocían a electores, amigos o familiares afectados y querían ayudar. Una vez que Noriega decidió proponer la legislación, un republicano, Fred Hill, pidió ser coautor del proyecto de ley.

    Para los defensores de la Ley Texas Dream, el mejor argumento a favor de la matrícula estatal para los estudiantes indocumentados era de carácter económico. Después de que el estado ya hubiera invertido en estos estudiantes durante la educación pública K-12, tenía sentido seguir desarrollándolos para que, con el tiempo, pudieran ayudar a satisfacer las necesidades de mano de obra de Texas.

    “Habíamos gastado todo ese dinero en estos jóvenes, y ellos habían hecho todo lo que les pedimos —en muchos casos, eran superestrellas, los mejores de su promoción y cosas por el estilo— y luego se topaban con este obstáculo, que era la educación superior, cuyo costo era prohibitivo”, dijo Noriega.

    La legislación fue aprobada fácilmente por la Cámara de Representantes de Texas, que en ese momento estaba controlada por los demócratas, pero el Senado, liderado por los republicanos, se mostró menos complaciente.

    “Ni siquiera pude conseguir una audiencia. Me dijeron rotundamente: “No, esto no va a salir adelante””, afirmó Leticia Van de Putte, la entonces senadora estatal que patrocinó la legislación en su cámara.

    Las nubes cubren el cielo detrás de la torre de la Universidad de Texas en Austin. Credit: Sergio Flores for The Washington Post via Getty Images

    Para persuadir a sus colegas republicanos, añadió varias restricciones, entre ellas la de exigir a los estudiantes indocumentados que vivieran en Texas durante tres años antes de terminar la escuela secundaria o recibir un GED. (Se estimó que tres años era el tiempo medio que tardaría una familia en pagar suficientes impuestos estatales para compensar la diferencia entre la matrícula estatal y la matrícula fuera del estado). También incluyó la cláusula que obligaba a los estudiantes indocumentados que accedían a la matrícula estatal a firmar una declaración jurada en la que se comprometían a solicitar la tarjeta de residencia tan pronto como pudieran.

    Van de Putte también recurrió a los grupos empresariales de Texas para insistir en los argumentos económicos a favor del proyecto de ley. Y convenció a la comunidad empresarial para que pagara los autobuses que llevarían a pastores evangélicos conservadores latinos de Dallas, San Antonio, Houston y otras zonas del estado a Austin, para que pudieran llamar a las puertas en apoyo de la legislación y rezar con los senadores republicanos y su personal.

    Después de eso, la Ley Texas Dream fue aprobada por abrumadora mayoría en el Senado estatal en mayo de 2001, y el entonces gobernador Rick Perry, republicano, la promulgó como ley al mes siguiente.

    Relacionado: El College Board cancela programa de premios para estudiantes negros y latinos de alto rendimiento 

    Sin embargo, en 2007, incluso cuando los defensores de los derechos de los inmigrantes, los grupos religiosos y las asociaciones empresariales formaron una coalición para defender a los inmigrantes contra las políticas estatales perjudiciales, la legislatura de Texas comenzó a presentar una serie de propuestas generalmente contrarias a los inmigrantes. En 2010, las encuestas sugerían que los tejanos se oponían de manera abrumadora a que los estudiantes indocumentados pagaran las tasas de matrícula estatales.

    En 2012, un nuevo grupo de políticos de derecha fue elegido para ocupar cargos públicos, muchos de ellos opuestos filosóficamente a la ley y muy críticos al respecto. La defensa de la política por parte de Perry se volvió en su contra durante las primarias presidenciales republicanas de 2012, cuando su campaña fue objeto de críticas después de que, durante un debate, dijera a los oponentes de la igualdad en las matrículas: “No creo que tengan corazón”.

    Aún así, ninguno de los muchos proyectos de ley presentados a lo largo de los años para derogar la Ley Texas Dream tuvo éxito. E incluso el gobernador Greg Abbott, un republicano partidario de la línea dura en materia de inmigración, se mostró en ocasiones ambiguo sobre la política, y su portavoz afirmó en 2013 que Abbott creía que “el objetivo” de la matrícula estatal independientemente del estatus migratorio era “noble”.

    Los observadores legislativos afirman que algunos republicanos del estado siguen apoyando la política. “Es una cuestión bipartidista. Hay republicanos que apoyan la matrícula estatal”, afirmó Luis Figueroa, director de asuntos legislativos de la organización sin fines de lucro Every Texan, dedicada a la investigación y la defensa de políticas públicas. “Pero no pueden decirlo públicamente”.

    Mientras tanto, a medida que el tema se volvía más controvertido políticamente en Texas, la Texas Dream Act acabó amplificando un debate más amplio que finalmente condujo a la creación del DACA, el programa de la era Obama que ha dado a algunos inmigrantes indocumentados acceso a protecciones contra la deportación y permisos de trabajo.

    Relacionado: Las amenazas de deportación de Trump pesan sobre los grupos que ofrecen ayuda con la FAFSA 

    Incluso antes del DACA, muchos inmigrantes trabajaban, y los que siguen sin papeles a menudo siguen haciéndolo, ya sea como contratistas independientes para empleadores que hacen la vista gorda ante su estatus migratorio o creando sus propios negocios. Un estudio de mayo de 2020 reveló que los residentes no autorizados constituyen el 8,2 % de la población activa del estado y que, por cada dólar gastado en servicios públicos para ellos, el estado de Texas recuperaba 1,21 dólares en ingresos.

    Pero sin el permiso legal inmediato para trabajar, los graduados universitarios indocumentados que se habían beneficiado de la Ley Dream de Texas se vieron limitados a pesar de sus títulos. A medida que la lucha por la equidad en las matrículas se extendía a otros estados, también lo hacía la lucha por una solución legal que apoyara a los estudiantes beneficiados.

    Cuando estos jóvenes, cariñosamente apodados “soñadores o dreamers”, pasaron a primer plano para defenderse más públicamente, su difícil situación despertó simpatía. En 2017, el mismo año en que Trump comenzó su primer mandato, las encuestas dieron un giro y mostraron que la mayoría de los tejanos apoyaba las matrículas estatales para los estudiantes indocumentados. Más recientemente, las investigaciones han indicado una y otra vez que los estadounidenses apoyan una vía para que los residentes indocumentados traídos a Estados Unidos cuando eran niños obtengan la residencia legal.

    Pero los argumentos en contra de la matrícula estatal, independientemente del estatus migratorio, también ganaron popularidad: los críticos sostenían que la política es injusta para los ciudadanos estadounidenses de otros estados que tienen que pagar tasas más altas, o que los estudiantes indocumentados están ocupando plazas en escuelas competitivas que podrían ser ocupadas por estadounidenses.

    El Departamento de Justicia se apoyó en una retórica similar en la demanda que acabó con la igualdad en las matrículas en Texas, alegando que la ley estatal queda invalidada por la legislación federal de 1996 que prohíbe a los inmigrantes indocumentados acceder a la matrícula estatal basada en la residencia. Ese argumento se ha convertido en un modelo, ya que la administración Trump ha presentado demandas para desmantelar las políticas de matrícula estatal de otros estados para los residentes indocumentados.

    En Kentucky, el fiscal general del estado, el republicano Russell Coleman, ha seguido los pasos de Texas y ha recomendado que el consejo estatal que supervisa la educación superior retire su normativa que permite el acceso a la matrícula estatal en lugar de luchar por defenderla en los tribunales.

    Al mismo tiempo, la administración Trump ha encontrado otras formas de recortar las oportunidades de educación superior para los estudiantes indocumentados, revocando una política que les había ayudado a participar en programas de formación profesional, técnica y para adultos, e investigando a las universidades por ofrecerles becas.

    Relacionado: Universidades recurren estudiantes hispanos para compensar disminución en la matrícula

    En Texas, el repentino cambio de política con respecto a las matrículas estatales está causando caos. Las dos universidades más grandes del estado, Texas A&M y la Universidad de Texas, están utilizando diferentes directrices para decidir qué estudiantes deben pagar las tasas fuera del estado.

    “Creo que las universidades son las que se encuentran en esta situación realmente difícil”, dijo Figueroa. “No son expertos en inmigración. Han recibido muy poca orientación sobre cómo interpretar el decreto de consentimiento”.

    En medio de tanta confusión, Figueroa predijo que es probable que surjan futuras demandas. Los estudiantes y organizaciones afectados ya han presentado mociones ante los tribunales para defender tardíamente la Ley Texas Dream contra el Departamento de Justicia.

    Mientras tanto, los jóvenes estudiantes se enfrentan a decisiones difíciles. Una estudiante, que pidió permanecer en el anonimato debido a su condición de inmigrante indocumentada, estaba leyendo las noticias en su teléfono antes de acostarse cuando vio un titular sobre el resultado del caso judicial del Departamento de Justicia.

    “Me eché a llorar porque, como alguien que ha luchado por salir adelante en sus estudios, ahora que estoy en la educación superior, ha sido una bendición”, dijo. “Así que lo primero que pensé fue: “¿Qué voy a hacer ahora? ¿Hacia dónde va mi futuro? ¿Los planes que tenía para mí tendrán que detenerse por completo?””.

    La joven, que vive en San Antonio desde que tenía 9 meses, se había matriculado en seis cursos para el otoño en la Universidad Texas A&M-San Antonio y no estaba segura de si abandonarlos. Sería su último semestre antes de obtener sus títulos en psicología y sociología, pero no podía imaginar pagar la matrícula fuera del estado.

    “Estoy en el limbo”, dijo, como “muchos estudiantes en este momento”.

    Comunícate con la editora Caroline Preston al 212-870-8965 o [email protected]

    Esta historia sobre los estudiantes indocumentados fue producida por The Hechinger Report, una organización de noticias independiente y sin fines de lucro que se centra en la desigualdad y la innovación en la educación. Suscríbase al boletín informativo del Hechinger.

    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.

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  • The resumption of student loan payments means students will need new policies — and our help

    The resumption of student loan payments means students will need new policies — and our help

    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. 

    Related: Interested in innovations in higher education? Subscribe to our free biweekly higher education newsletter. 

    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. 

    State governments have an opportunity to fill the federal void through programs like Massachusetts’ Student Loan Borrower Bill of Rights and Maine’s Student Loan Repayment Tax Credit. 

    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.  

    Related: How Trump is changing higher education: The view from 4 campuses 

    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. 

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected]. 

    This story about student loan payments was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly 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.

    Join us today.

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  • TRIO helps low-income students get to and through college. Trump wants to end it

    TRIO helps low-income students get to and through college. Trump wants to end it

    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.

    Related: Interested in more news about colleges and universities? Subscribe to our free biweekly higher education newsletter.

    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.”

    Related: Tracking Trump: His actions to dismantle the Education Department, and more

    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. 

    Related: A big reason rural students never go to college: No one recruits them 

    “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.

    Related: How Trump is changing higher education: The view from 4 campuses

    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.

    Related: From gangs to college

    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]

    This story about TRIO was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger 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.

    Join us today.

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  • What Trump’s education cuts mean for literacy

    What Trump’s education cuts mean for literacy

    This podcast, Sold a Story, was produced by APM Reports and reprinted with permission.

    There’s an idea about how children learn to read that’s held sway in schools for more than a generation – even though it was proven wrong by cognitive scientists decades ago. Teaching methods based on this idea can make it harder for children to learn how to read. In this new American Public Media podcast, host Emily Hanford investigates the influential authors who promote this idea and the company that sells their work. It’s an exposé of how educators came to believe in something that isn’t true and are now reckoning with the consequences – children harmed, money wasted, an education system upended.

    Episode 14: The Cuts

    Education research is at a turning point in the United States. The Trump administration is slashing government funding for science and dismantling the Department of Education. We look at what the cuts mean for the science of reading — and the effort to get that science into schools.

    This podcast, Sold a Story, was produced by  APM Reports and reprinted with permission.

    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.

    Join us today.

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  • What’s happened since Texas killed in-state tuition for undocumented students

    What’s happened since Texas killed in-state tuition for undocumented students

    SAN ANTONIO — Ximena had a plan. 

    The 18-year-old from Houston was going to start college in the fall at the University of Texas at Tyler, where she had been awarded $10,000 a year in scholarships. That, she hoped, would set her up for her dream: a Ph.D. in chemistry, followed by a career as a professor or researcher.

    “And then the change to in-state tuition happened, and that’s when I knew for sure that I had to pivot,” said Ximena, who was born in Mexico but attended schools stateside since kindergarten. (The Hechinger Report is referring to her by only her first name because she fears retaliation for her immigration status.) 

    In June, the Texas attorney general’s office and the Trump administration worked together to end the provisions in a state law that had offered thousands of undocumented students like her lower in-state tuition rates at Texas public colleges. State and federal officials successfully argued in court that the long-standing policy discriminated against U.S. citizens from other states who paid a higher rate. That rationale has now been replicated in similar lawsuits against Kentucky, Oklahoma and Minnesota — part of a broader offensive against immigrants’ access to public education. 

    At UT Tyler, in-state tuition and fees for the upcoming academic year total $9,736, compared to more than $25,000 for out-of-state students. Ximena and her family couldn’t afford the higher tuition bill, so she withdrew. Instead, she enrolled at Houston Community College, where out-of-state costs are $227 per semester hour, nearly three times the in-district rate. The school offers only basic college-level chemistry classes, so to set herself up for a doctorate or original research, Ximena will still need to find a way to pay for a four-year university down the line. 

    Her predicament is exactly what state lawmakers from both political parties had hoped to avoid when they passed the Texas Dream Act, 2001 legislation that not only opened doors to higher education for undocumented students but was also meant to bolster Texas’s economy and its workforce long-term. With that law, Texas became the first of more than two dozen states to implement in-state tuition for undocumented students, and for nearly 24 years, the landmark policy remained intact. Conservative lawmakers repeatedly proposed to repeal it, but despite years of single-party control in the state legislature, not enough Republicans embraced repeal even as recently as this spring, days before the Texas attorney general’s office and the federal Department of Justice moved to end it. 

    Now, as the fall semester approaches, immigrant students are weighing whether to disenroll from their courses or await clarity on how the consent agreement entered into by the state and DOJ affects them.

    Immigration advocates are worried that Texas colleges and universities are boxing out potential attendees who are lawfully present and still qualify for in-state tuition despite the court ruling — including recipients of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, asylum applicants and Temporary Protected Status holders — because university personnel lack immigration expertise and haven’t been given clear guidelines on exactly who needs to pay the higher tuition rate

    At Austin Community College, which serves an area as large as Connecticut, members of the board of trustees are unsure how to accurately implement the ruling. As they await answers, they’ve so far decided against sending letters asking their students for sensitive information in order to determine tuition rates. 

    “This confusion will inevitably harm students because what we find is that in the absence of information and in the presence of fear and anxiety, students will opt to not continue higher education,” said Manuel Gonzalez, vice chair of the ACC board of trustees.

    A billboard promoting Austin Community College in Spanish sits on a highway that leads to Lockhart, Texas. Credit: Sergio Flores for The Hechinger Report

    Policy experts, meanwhile, warn that Texas’s workforce could suffer as talented young people, many of whom have spent their entire education in the state’s public school system, will no longer be able to afford the associate’s and bachelor’s degrees that would allow them to pursue careers that would help propel their local economies. Under the Texas Dream Act, beneficiaries were required to commit to applying for lawful permanent residence as soon as possible, giving them the opportunity to hold down jobs related to their degrees. Without resident status, it’s likely they’ll still work — just more in lower-paying, under-the-radar jobs.  

    “It’s so short-sighted in terms of the welfare of the state of Texas,” said Barbara Hines, a former law school professor who helped legislators craft the Texas Dream Act. 

    Related: Become a lifelong learner. Subscribe to our free weekly newsletter featuring the most important stories in education. 

    By the turn of the century, almost two decades after undocumented children won the right to attend public school in the U.S., immigrant students and their champions remained frustrated that college remained out of reach. 

    For retired Army National Guard Maj. Gen. Rick Noriega, a Democrat who served in the Texas Legislature at the time, that reality hit close to home when he learned of a young yard worker in his district who wanted to enroll at the local community college for aviation mechanics but couldn’t afford out-of-state tuition. 

    Noriega called the school chancellor’s office, which was able to provide funding for the student to attend. But that experience led him to wonder: How many more kids in his district were running up against the same barriers to higher education? 

    So he worked with a sociologist to poll students at local high schools about the problem, which turned out to be widespread. And Noriega’s district wasn’t an outlier. In a state that has long had one of the nation’s largest unauthorized immigrant populations, politicians across the partisan divide knew affected constituents, friends or family members and wanted to help. Once Noriega decided to propose legislation, a Republican, Fred Hill, asked to serve as a joint author on the bill. 

    To proponents of the Texas Dream Act, the best argument in support of in-state tuition for undocumented students was an economic one. After the state had already invested in these students during K-12 public schooling, it made sense to continue developing them so they could eventually help meet Texas’ workforce needs. 

    “We’d spent all this money on these kids, and they’d done everything that we asked them to do — in many instances superstars and valedictorians and the like — and then they hit this wall, which was higher education that was cost prohibitive,” said Noriega. 

    The legislation easily passed the Texas House of Representatives, which was Democratic-controlled at the time, but the Republican-led Senate was less accommodating. 

    “I couldn’t even get a hearing,’” said Leticia Van de Putte, the then-state senator who sponsored the legislation in her chamber. 

    To persuade her Republican colleagues, she added several restrictions, including requiring undocumented students to live in Texas for three years before finishing high school or receiving a GED. (Three years was estimated as the average time it would take a family to pay enough in state taxes to make up the difference between in-state and out-of-state tuition.) She also included the clause mandating that undocumented students who accessed in-state tuition sign an affidavit pledging to pursue green cards as soon as they were able.   

    Van de Putte also turned to Texas business groups to hammer home the economic case for the bill. And she convinced the business community to pay for buses to bring Latino evangelical conservative pastors from Dallas, San Antonio, Houston and other areas of the state to Austin, so they could knock on doors in support of the legislation and pray with Republican senators and their staff. 

    After that, the Texas Dream Act overwhelmingly passed the state Senate in May 2001, and then-Gov. Rick Perry, a Republican, signed it into law the following month.

    Related: How Trump is changing higher education: The view from four campuses

    Yet by 2007, even as immigrant rights advocates, faith-based groups and business associations formed a coalition to defend immigrants against harmful state policies, the Texas legislature was starting to introduce a wave of generally anti-immigrant proposals. In 2010, polling suggested Texans overwhelmingly opposed allowing undocumented students to pay in-state tuition rates. 

    By 2012, a new slew of right-wing politicians was elected to office, many philosophically opposed to the law — and loud about it. Perry’s defense of the policy had come back to haunt him during the 2012 Republican presidential primary, when his campaign was dogged by criticism after he told opponents of tuition equity during a debate, “I don’t think you have a heart.” 

    Still, none of the many bills introduced over the years to repeal the Texas Dream Act were successful. And even Texas Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican border hawk, at times equivocated on the policy, with his spokesperson saying in 2013 that Abbott believed “the objective” of in-state tuition regardless of immigration status was “noble.”

    Legislative observers say that some Republicans in the state continue to support the policy. “It’s a bipartisan issue. There are Republicans in support of in-state tuition,” said Luis Figueroa, senior director of legislative affairs at the public policy research and advocacy nonprofit Every Texan. “They cannot publicly state it.”

    Meanwhile, as the topic became more politically charged in Texas, the Texas Dream Act ended up amplifying a larger conversation that eventually led to the creation of DACA, the Obama-era program that has given some undocumented immigrants access to deportation protections and work permits. 

    Even before DACA, many immigrants worked, and those who remain undocumented often still do, either as independent contractors for employers that turn a blind eye to their immigration status or by starting their own businesses. A study from May 2020 found that unauthorized residents make up 8.2 percent of the state’s workforce, and for every dollar spent toward public services for them, the state of Texas recouped $1.21 in revenue. 

    But without the immediate legal permission to work, undocumented college graduates who had benefited from the Texas Dream Act found themselves limited despite their degrees. As the fight for tuition equity spread to other states, so did the fight for a legal solution to support the students it benefited. 

    When these young people — affectionately dubbed Dreamers — took center stage to more publicly advocate for themselves, their plight proved sympathetic. By 2017, the same year Trump began his first term, polling had flipped to show a plurality of Texans in support of in-state tuition for undocumented students. More recently, research has indicated time and time again that Americans support a pathway to legal status for undocumented residents brought to the U.S. as children. 

    But arguments against in-state tuition regardless of immigration status also grew in popularity: Critics contended that the policy is unfair to U.S. citizens from other states who have to pay higher rates, or that undocumented students are taking spots at competitive schools that could be filled by documented Americans. 

    The DOJ leaned on similar rhetoric in the lawsuit that killed tuition equity in Texas, saying the state law is superseded by 1996 federal legislation banning undocumented immigrants from getting in-state tuition based on residency. That argument has become a template as the Trump administration has sued to dismantle other states’ in-state tuition policies for undocumented residents.

    In Kentucky, state Attorney General Russell Coleman, a Republican, has followed in Texas’ footsteps, recommending that the state council overseeing higher education withdraw its regulation allowing for access to in-state tuition instead of fighting to defend it in court. 

    At the same time, the Trump administration has found other ways to cut back on higher education opportunities for undocumented students, rescinding a policy that had helped them participate in career, technical and adult education programs and investigating universities for offering them scholarships. 

    Related: Which schools and colleges are being investigated by the Trump administration? 

    Back in Texas, the sudden policy change regarding in-state tuition is causing chaos. Even the state’s two largest universities, Texas A&M and the University of Texas, are using different guidelines to decide which students must pay out-of-state rates. 

    Clouds fill the sky behind the tower at the University of Texas. Credit: Sergio Flores for The Washington Post via Getty Images

    “Universities, I think, are the ones that are put in this really difficult position,” Figueroa said. “They are not immigration experts. They’ve received very little guidance about how to interpret the consent decree.” 

    Amid so much confusion, Figueroa predicted, future lawsuits will likely crop up. Already, affected students and organizations have filed motions in court seeking to belatedly defend the Texas Dream Act against the DOJ.

    In the meantime, young scholars are facing difficult choices. One student, who asked to remain anonymous because of her undocumented immigration status, was scrolling through the news on her phone before bed when she saw a headline about the outcome of the DOJ court case. 

    “I burst in tears because, you know, as someone who’s been fighting to get ahead in their education, right now that I’m in higher education, it’s been a complete blessing,” she said. “So the first thing that I just thought of is ‘What am I going to do now? Where is my future heading?’ The plans that I have had going for me, are they going to have to come to a complete halt?’” 

    The young woman, who has lived in San Antonio since she was 9 months old, had enrolled in six courses for the fall at Texas A&M-San Antonio and wasn’t sure whether to drop them. It would be her final semester before earning her psychology and sociology degrees, but she couldn’t fathom paying for out-of-state tuition. 

    “I’m in the unknown,” she said, like “many students in this moment.”

    Contact editor Caroline Preston at 212-870-8965, via Signal at CarolineP.83 or on email at [email protected].

    This story about the Texas Dream Act was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger 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.

    Join us today.

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  • fetal development videos in schools

    fetal development videos in schools

    Last August, Republican Rep. Gino Bulso looked out at a room filled with dozens of fellow state lawmakers as he touted new legislation he had just helped become a reality in Tennessee. Under the law, a fetal ultrasound or a video of a computer-animated fetus developing in the womb had become mandatory viewing for students in the state’s sex education classes. 

    Bulso was there at the request of the event’s host, anti-abortion advocacy nonprofit Live Action. The group had gathered legislators from across the country to provide them “with the policy information and persuasion strategies they need to end abortion,” according to its annual report

    Bulso’s panel, “The Agenda for Life in Schools and Beyond,” focused on how he had successfully shepherded his bill into becoming the second so-called fetal development education law in the country.

    When lawmakers returned to their home states after the Live Action event, The Hechinger Report found, at least 10 of them sponsored bills similar to Bulso’s, in some cases proposing that students as young as third grade watch fetal development videos. Another legislator who introduced such a bill had sent his chief of staff and wife to the event. And the volume of legislation stemming from the gathering may be higher: Live Action keeps its list of attendees private, though many lawmakers posted about the event on social media or were featured in Live Action’s promotional materials.

    Since 2023, when North Dakota became the first state to pass fetal development education legislation, anti-abortion lawmakers in more than 20 additional states have proposed such bills; 6 of those states, including Bulso’s, have passed them. As a result, this fall, nearly 4 million children will attend school in a state that requires them to watch a video or ultrasound of a fetus in the womb during sex education classes. And this year, legislators in four states tried to go even further: Their proposals would have required students to view depictions of abortions, including computer-animated videos.

    After the fall of Roe v. Wade in 2022, public schools have become an increasingly important battleground in the fight over abortion rights. Even though 12 states now ban abortion in all circumstances, the number of procedures has increased nationwide since the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe. Public support for abortion rights has also risen. Many anti-abortion advocates hope that getting their message in front of students can help them win the hearts and minds of young people and change these trends in the long run.

    While critics, including medical professionals and some parents, say that the fetal development education materials being introduced to schools are manipulative and little more than propaganda, Live Action and other groups that produce them maintain they are medically accurate and unbiased. Experts in sex education and abortion policy say a related problem is the dearth of sex education in schools — students, on average, receive only about six hours during their high school years — that creates a vacuum for anti-abortion groups to move into.

    “They’re attempting to reach children at an age where I would assume most haven’t been exposed to issues of an abortion,” says Alisa Von Hagel, a political science professor at University of Wisconsin-Superior who has studied the strategies of the anti-abortion movement. “They’re attempting to be the first to imprint this quote, unquote ‘knowledge’ or opinion about these issues.”

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education.

    During a debate earlier this year in the Arkansas Senate, Republican Sen. Alan Clark referred to his state’s proposal as “one of the most important pro-life bills that’s ever come before us.” He also said, “It will shape the minds of kids from now on.” 

    The proposal would have required showing a video created by Live Action to students starting in sixth grade. In the video, titled “Meet Baby Olivia,” a narrator tells the viewer that life begins at conception and says the fetus, named Baby Olivia, begins playing and exploring as early as 11 weeks. 

    In an annual report, Live Action noted that its “Meet Baby Olivia” video caused a “37-point shift towards the pro-life perspective among viewers.” The organization also highlighted the impact its materials can have on kids, in particular, to help “instill a reverence for life as children at impressionable ages develop their world view.” 

    Tennessee state Rep. Gino Bulso sponsored the nation’s second fetal development education law. He credits the anti-abortion group Live Action with helping him get it passed. Credit: George Walker IV/AP Images

    Both Bulso and Noah Brandt, Live Action’s vice president of communications, have said the only goals of Baby Olivia and fetal development education are to teach and inform students — but they also expected it to leave an impression. “It is intuitive that, after watching that, people would be less likely to support abortion on demand,” Brandt said.  

    Live Action’s work to connect with students is also part of playbooks for other anti-abortion  organizations. Take Heartbeat International, for example, a group that supports clinics known as “crisis pregnancy centers,” which provide limited medical care and encourage people not to have abortions. Heartbeat also offers in-person and online training, including one program on how to “Change the Nation with Pro-life Education,” featuring specific tactics for working with public schools. One speaker at Heartbeat’s 2023 national conference described performing an ultrasound on a pregnant woman in front of public school students to “plant a seed of life.” 

    Related: ‘They just tried to scare us’: How anti-abortion centers teach sex ed in public schools 

    Before creating “Meet Baby Olivia,” Live Action was best known for anti-abortion campaigns and undercover stings against Planned Parenthood, and largely worked outside of policymaking. But as the organization has grown in recent years, it has begun to coordinate directly with legislators. 

    Live Action held its inaugural lawmaker summit in 2022, two months after Roe was overturned. The following spring, North Dakota passed a fetal development education law, the nation’s first.

    Many proposed fetal development education bills mention the video “Meet Baby Olivia” by name. Critics say that the video is designed to manipulate the viewer’s emotions, while its creator, Live Action, says it is accurate. Credit: Live Action

    By 2024, the summit had doubled in size to host 70 lawmakers at a four-star hotel in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Lawmakers attended panel discussions titled “Saving Our Children and Helping Their Mothers” and “Communications and Persuasion: Winning the Messaging War.” Live Action also screened its abortion videos, including “Meet Baby Olivia.” 

    On his panel, Bulso walked through every step of creating Tennessee’s law, from filing the bill to committee deliberations to its eventual passage. He gave Live Action credit for providing him with resources to help make the case that “Meet Baby Olivia” was scientifically accurate.

    Most of the proposed fetal development education bills don’t prescribe a specific video, but many suggest the Baby Olivia video. Two bills in Texas do mention alternatives: A 1983 film by PBS’s NOVA called “The Miracle of Life” and a video produced by the St. John Paul II Life Center, a crisis pregnancy center. 

    Said Brandt, it’s up to “lawmakers, school board members, teachers, that kind of thing, to try to make prudential judgments about, ‘Is the actual resource I’m using a good resource to accomplish the goal that I’ve been tasked to accomplish?’” 

    “Meet Baby Olivia” in particular, has been sharply criticized by medical experts since Live Action released the video in 2021. Many doctors have raised concerns about its language and portrayal of the timeline of fetal development. Parents and students in Fargo, North Dakota, used arguments such as these to convince the school district to use a different video to meet the state law. 

    “The Baby Olivia video is designed to manipulate students’ emotions rather than to share objective facts about embryonic and fetal development,” Nisha Verma, senior advisor of reproductive health policy and advocacy for the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, said in a statement. “The video attempts to advance anti-abortion policies such as fetal personhood and uses non-scientific language about conception, pregnancy, embryos, and fetuses to evoke an emotional response.” 

    Related: Day care, baby supplies, counseling: Inside a school for pregnant and parenting teens  

    Live Action maintains the video is medically accurate — and has its own roster of anti-abortion doctors who endorse it, including a handful who collaborated with the organization on the video’s creation.

    The approval of some medical professionals was part of the appeal of “Meet Baby Olivia” and another Live Action video series called “What Is Abortion?” for New Hampshire Rep. John Sellers, another Republican who attended the group’s lawmaker summit. The series shows a computer rendering of three different points in the pregnancy process.

    Since 2023, getting fetal development education into public schools has been a priority for the anti-abortion group, Live Action. Credit: Live Action

    In January, Sellers filed two bills to make Live Action’s videos required viewing for New Hampshire students — including college students in the case of “Meet Baby Olivia.” Both bills, however, faced opposition: Nearly 700 residents officially recorded their objection with the state or submitted testimony opposing the fetal development bill, and 1,080 registered their opposition to the abortion video legislation. By comparison, the number of residents who registered in favor was 23 and 30, respectively.

    Many of those who submitted written testimony called the bill an attempt to indoctrinate students; Sellers maintained the legislation was nonpolitical. “We’re just trying to get the information out to the kids so they’re educated,” he said in an interview. “I don’t know how you indoctrinate somebody with the truth of the development of life … or the truth that these are the types of procedures of abortions. I can’t see that being indoctrination.”

    Sellers said further that he hoped education could help people “make a better decision of, ‘Should I get an abortion or not?’”

    Several people who opposed Sellers’ bills agreed that the videos contained some factual information and that topics such as fetal development and abortion could be useful to learn about in schools, but it was the presentation of the information — and that it came from an anti-abortion group — that worried them, they explained.

    “My biggest concern is that it’s set up to come from a moralistic and fear-based place as opposed to a medical or wellness model,” said Stephanie Vazzano, a therapist who lives in New Hampshire who submitted written testimony opposing the abortion video bill. “They do have some facts. When you watch them you can be really seduced by those facts … but then these other things get slipped in.”

    During the hearing for his bills, Sellers repeatedly said he was open to other abortion videos being shown but didn’t know of any. This lack of alternatives has allowed Live Action to succeed in getting into schools so far, said Mary Ziegler, a law professor at University of California-Davis and author of several books on the history of abortion debates. “Part of what they’ve exposed is that there are gaps in the way we’ve done sex education,” she points out. “There’s truth in the sense that sex education programs across the board, including those favored by progressives, don’t have enough information about pregnancy, childbirth, abortion or fetal development.”

    Related: If we see more pregnant students post-Roe, are we prepared to serve them? 

    In many ways, Live Action’s efforts — as well as those of Heartbeat International and other organizations working to reach K-12 students — are a response to groups that run comprehensive sex education programs. Five states require comprehensive sex education, and individual districts in other states also provide it. These programs typically cover an array of topics including contraception, gender identity, consent, and options if one becomes pregnant. Planned Parenthood offers such a program to schools and has become the single-largest provider of sex ed nationwide

    “I’m sympathetic if someone says we wouldn’t want any organization that has any point of view creating any materials for our public school system,” Brandt of Live Action said. “But I would just say that’s not the reality that’s happening across the country. It’s tough to find curriculum that is from a group that no one would oppose.”

    Even some anti-abortion Republicans have drawn a line at directly promoting the use of Live Action materials in public schools. Among them is Arkansas Sen. Breanne Davis, who led the opposition to a bill that specifically called for “Meet Baby Olivia” to be shown in schools. She raised concerns about requiring content from “a political advocacy group.” Davis said in an interview, “That’s just out of bounds for what we should be putting into law.”  

    At least 11 state legislators who attended Live Action’s Lawmaker Summit, including Arkansas Rep. Mary Bentley, introduced fetal development legislation during the 2025 legislative session. Credit: Facebook

    In hearings, Arkansas representative and bill sponsor Mary Bentley argued it would be easier and better for school districts to be told which video to use rather than have to make that determination themselves. She remains staunchly in support of the Baby Olivia video: “I think it’s so good to help kids understand the process of fetal development,” she said. “I just assumed that it would get the support that we needed in the most pro-life state in the nation.”

    Davis proposed a competing bill, one that would require the Arkansas department of education to adopt standards for age-appropriate fetal development education, including showing an ultrasound, in the future. No video would be required, but districts could still show one, such as “Meet Baby Olivia,” if they chose to.

    In the end, Bentley’s bill died and Davis’s legislation was signed into law in April.  

    For Brandt, of Live Action, the law falls short of what he considers the “gold standard” of fetal development education, but “We’re happy that they passed some version of it,” he said. “That is definitely better than nothing, and maybe can even be improved upon in the future.” 

    Contact investigations editor Sarah Butrymowicz at [email protected] or on Signal: @sbutry.04.

    This story about fetal development was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger 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.

    Join us today.

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  • The details behind the first national school voucher program

    The details behind the first national school voucher program

    After decades of trying, conservatives this year succeeded in creating the first national school voucher program.

    The Republican megabill that President Donald Trump signed into law in July will establish new tax credit scholarships for families to use at private schools, including religious ones — a long-held goal of school privatization advocates who argue parents should get taxpayer support if they want to opt out of their neighborhood school.

    Under the “big, beautiful bill,” donors can receive dollar-for-dollar tax credits of up to $1,700 for contributions to scholarship-granting nonprofits. Those groups then distribute the money to families seeking help paying for private school, tutoring and other educational expenses. 

    The program, while significant, is less expansive than in earlier drafts of the legislation. Previous versions gave donors larger tax credits — a match up to $5,000 or 10 percent of their income, whichever is greater — and mandated that all states participate rather than allowing them to opt in. 

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education.

    Here are 10 things to know about the program. If you have other questions or there’s more you’d like to know, write to us: [email protected].

    When does it start?

    Jan. 1, 2027. Families have until then to research where they might want to spend a scholarship — and if the school in mind even plans to accept one. Taxpayers who want to contribute to support the scholarships can do so beginning in late 2026.  

    How will the scholarships work?

    The law opens the door to churches, universities, education nonprofits, rotary clubs and potentially even public schools (more on that below) to accept and distribute donations for the program. These “scholarship-granting organizations,” or SGOs, can keep up to 10 percent of the donations for administrative costs.

    In some states with existing scholarship programs, families apply with a third-party contractor that works with eligible schools and selects students for awards. Other states allow religious groups and other nonprofits to create and manage their own scholarship funds. The federal bill gives states wide flexibility to make those sorts of decisions about how the program is administered, experts say.

    Who’s eligible for the scholarships?

    To qualify, students need to check these boxes: They must be eligible to attend a public school, their state must opt in to the program, and their families must earn no more than three times the area median income — a threshold that would include households with incomes nearing $500,000 in some parts of the United States.

    Students who already attend private school qualify, since they are eligible for public school, even if they don’t attend one. The scholarships also may cover home-schoolers. (Keep reading for more on that.)

    How much money will families receive? 

    While the bill set a $1,700 cap on how much individual donors can contribute through their taxes, it’s unclear whether it limits how much an individual student could collect in scholarships.

    In theory, a student could apply for several scholarships. An SGO might also offer a scholarship that reimburses a family for all costs associated with attending their preferred school. In states that already offer similar school choice programs, a student might be able to collect scholarships from both the new program and the existing state program. Still, the average cost of private school tuition is roughly $13,000, so even students who combine several scholarships may not receive enough to cover the full cost of attending.

    The Treasury Department is expected to issue regulations on the program, and we may not know these kinds of details until it does. 

    Related: Arizona gave families public money for private schools. Then private schools raised tuition

    What can the scholarship money be used for?

    Quite a lot. The legislation suggests that families could use the money not only to help pay for private school tuition, but also for room and board, services for students with disabilities, transportation, tutoring, and school supplies like books, computers and uniforms. 

    The rules may depend on the individual state and its definition of an “eligible school.” In some states, home schooling might qualify students for the scholarships, but in other states it might not, said Robert Enlow, president of EdChoice, a pro-school choice group.  

    It’s also possible that public schools could charge scholarship students — as some do with home-schoolers — for services like tutoring, special education or advanced courses. 

    So students can use the money at public schools? How would that work? 

    Yes, potentially. In some states, schools already charge activity or participation fees for non-enrolled students who want to join clubs and sports. Marguerite Roza, director of the Edunomics Lab at Georgetown University, said some states may write their own rules that allow schools to extend the menu of services they could charge for.

    Meanwhile, most school districts — roughly 4 in 5 — already partner with foundations that raise money to help students with transportation, school supplies and basic needs. Both Enlow and Roza said they expected nonprofits and districts to partner on finding ways to tap the federal scholarship dollars as well.

    “Imagine you could have a public school foundation going out and helping with transportation and books and computers and tutors and all sorts of stuff, right?” Enlow said. “The potential is huge.”

    Will all private schools accept the scholarships? 

    No, private schools are not required to accept the scholarships, and many states that offer school choice don’t require private schools to participate. Private schools generally can accept or reject a student for any reason, whether they have a scholarship or not.

    In Arizona, for example, the tax credit program provided scholarships to students at 348 schools last year. More than 400 private schools operated in the state as of 2022.

    Related: Tracking Trump: His actions to dismantle the Education Department, and more 

    Which states will participate?

    Roughly 21 states — including Arizona, Georgia and Montana — offer their own tax credit scholarships, according to the group EdChoice, so it’s expected they would opt into the federal program. Conservative lawmakers in North Carolina already introduced a bill to allow families there to take part in the federal scholarships. 

    If public schools can benefit too, even Democratic governors may consider joining the program, said Roza.

    “Ultimately if the state can open this to summer camp and tutoring, obviously there would be a lot of pressure to unlock so much money with this,” she said.

    How much will the scholarships cost the government?

    It depends on how many taxpayers claim the credit. 

    While an earlier version of the bill would have capped the tax credits at $10 billion a year, the final legislation contains no such limit — so the exact amount in lost revenue won’t be known until much later. That said, an analysis by the nonpartisan Joint Committee on Taxation found that the legislation would cost the Treasury up to $4 billion per year.

    Others think the cost will be higher. The Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy, a left-leaning research group, placed its projection closer to $51 billion, while Roza estimated the cost at $28 billion per year. Still, she hesitated to count that as a direct loss to K-12 funding. “It’s new money in the sense that it doesn’t go into or out of the federal pie,” Roza said.

    What’s been the reaction to the plan? 

    Critics, including teachers unions and many education experts, have been quick to raise alarms about the voucher program, arguing that it’s a handout for wealthy families and will harm public schools by reducing funding for them.

    “It’s the centerpiece of the Great American Heist — a privatization scheme wrapped in tax policy,” Denise Forte, president of the left-leaning nonprofit EdTrust, said at a hearing before the Senate Democratic Caucus in July. 

    Advocates for the separation of church and state worry about the program channeling money from government coffers to religious schools, while disability advocates note that private schools are not required to serve students with disabilities.

    Some supporters of school vouchers, meanwhile, wish the legislation had gone further.

    “This is a very positive program for taxpayers in America. You can help families get better education and claim a tax credit for it,” said EdChoice’s Enlow. “It’s going to benefit middle- and low-income families.” But he added, “It’s not as generous as we would like, which is universal.”

    Others are focused now on encouraging states to participate in the program. “The fight doesn’t end with the passing of the bill,” said Sydney Altfield, national director of Teach Coalition, which advocates for Jewish schools to get access to government funding. “States must opt into the program.”

    Contact staff writer Neal Morton at 212-678-8247, on Signal at nealmorton.99, or via email at [email protected].

    This story about school voucher programs was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger 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.

    Join us today.

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  • Federal cuts to AmeriCorps could make it harder for recent graduates to find jobs

    Federal cuts to AmeriCorps could make it harder for recent graduates to find jobs

    This story about AmeriCorps jobs was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.

    Lily Tegner didn’t know what she wanted to do when she graduated from Oregon State University with a chemical engineering degree five years ago. She entered the workforce at a point when unemployment briefly skyrocketed and companies were freezing hiring because of the Covid pandemic. “I didn’t have a very clear direction as far as where I was going in life,” she said. 

    Like hundreds of thousands of other young adults, Tegner kick-started her career through AmeriCorps, a federal agency that sends its members to communities across the country to tutor students, help after disasters strike and restore wildlife habitats, among other activities. She took a position at the Alaska Afterschool Network, where her job was to help find ways to expand science, technology, engineering and math access in its programs. Four years later, she’s still there — now, as a full-time employee managing the nonprofit’s AmeriCorps program. 

    “This state became my home,” Tegner said, adding that her year in AmeriCorps “completely changed the trajectory of my career.” 

    An AmeriCorps member poses with a student in one of the Alaska Afterschool Network’s funded programs. The organization lost its AmeriCorps funding last spring. Credit: Courtesy of Alaska Afterschool Network

    This spring, Alaska Afterschool Network was one of hundreds of organizations abruptly notified that its AmeriCorps funding had been terminated. Federal funding cuts forced the nonprofit to eliminate three full-time positions and cancel 19 internships scheduled for this summer. Tegner’s job is also at risk, though the organization is trying to find a way to keep her on. 

    In late April, the Trump administration slashed 41 percent of AmeriCorps’ funding, cutting about $400 million in grants and letting go of more than 32,000 members serving in hundreds of programs across the United States. In June and also this month, judges ordered the government to restore some funding, but the ruling does not reinstate all the money that was taken away. Shrinking AmeriCorps is among the many steps the Trump administration has taken to curb what he has called “waste, fraud and abuse” of federal funds. More action is expected in the months ahead. 

    Related: Become a lifelong learner. Subscribe to our free weekly newsletter featuring the most important stories in education. 

    Over the years, the program former President Bill Clinton created has deployed more than a million people. On top of gutting AmeriCorps, the cuts have diminished the reach of an agency that has been a critical path to a career for recent high school and college graduates at a time when entry-level jobs can be difficult to find.

    AmeriCorps was created more than three decades ago to oversee expanded federal volunteer programs, incorporating existing projects including Volunteers in Service to America and the National Civilian Community Corps. Its members take on community service positions across the country that can last for up to two years. They receive a small living stipend, and full-time members are eligible for health insurance. At the end of their terms, members are awarded a grant that can be used to pay college tuition or student loans.

    “AmeriCorps dollars have a powerful ripple effect, for both the AmeriCorps members and the students that they serve,” said Leslie Cornfeld, founder and CEO of the National Education Equity Lab, a nonprofit that brings college courses to high-poverty schools. “In many instances, it helps them define their careers.” 

    About half of the AmeriCorps funding for the Philadelphia Higher Education Network for Neighborhood Development was cut this spring. Credit: Courtesy of PHENND

    Federal surveys of AmeriCorps members from 2019, 2021 and 2023 show that 90 percent of members joined the national program in part to gain skills that would help them in school and work, and well over 80 percent said their experience in AmeriCorps helped further their “professional goals and endeavors.”

    The Trump administration cited fraud as part of its reason for nearly halving the AmeriCorps budget. Audits of the agency have raised questions about its financial management. 

    Related: Hundreds of thousands of students are entitled to training and help finding jobs. They don’t get it

    Peter Fleckenstein, 23, joined Aspire Afterschool in Arlington, Virginia, through AmeriCorps last year after graduating from the University of Delaware with a degree in psychology. He saw AmeriCorps as a way to build out his resume; even the entry-level positions he encountered during his job search required experience in the field. 

    In his position at the after-school program, Fleckenstein leads daily activities for a group of about two dozen fourth grade students. The experience has helped him crystallize his career aspirations: Before AmeriCorps, he was considering clinical social work or teaching. Now, he wants to become a counselor.

    “Working with the kids here is a lot of behavior management: problem solving, helping them regulate themselves,” Fleckenstein said. “Doing one-on-one work with them, building habits and routines with them — that is something that I could focus on more if I was in a counseling job.”

    Fleckenstein’s position was cut in April before he could complete his one-year term set to end in August, but Aspire Afterschool was able to raise money through donations to hire him and some of the nonprofit’s other AmeriCorps members part-time to finish out their grant year. 

    The Philadelphia Higher Education Network for Neighborhood Development lost half of its AmeriCorps funding this past spring when the federal agency was slashed. Credit: Courtesy of PHENND

    While some members have joined Americorps after graduating, student Deja Johnson, 24, joined as a way to help pay for college. Her term at The Scholarship Academy — a nonprofit in Atlanta helping low-income high school students navigate financial aid applications — was supposed to end with a $7,400 education grant. Because the terms were cut short, members have been told they’ll get only a prorated portion of the money.

    “It’s a little bit of a shame,” said Johnson, who is using the education grant to pursue a bachelor’s degree in nonprofit leadership. 

    “That’s what a lot of us look forward to with this work that we’re doing, because we know how much of a sacrifice it can be at times. It’s that ‘pouring into our community’ — and that’s how our community pours into us,” Johnson said.

    The AmeriCorps termination letters told grantees that their programs no longer met agency priorities, but the nonprofits were not told what those priorities are. Programs with different missions, in both Democratic- and Republican-led communities, were cut.

    Sira Coulibaly, a member with the Philadelphia Higher Education Network for Neighborhood Development’s Next Steps AmeriCorps program, packs bags of food for the Metropolitan Area Neighborhood Nutrition Alliance. Credit: Courtesy of PHENND

    The Hindman Settlement School, a nonprofit in rural Kentucky, was one victim of the cuts. The organization receives about $1 million a year from AmeriCorps for its program tutoring students with math and reading learning disabilities in more than two dozen schools. Losing that funding means drastically scaling back services, said Josh Mullins, senior director of operations at the Hindman Settlement School. He said he does not know why Hindman’s grants were terminated: The nonprofit regularly passes its audits, and its last annual report showed an average gain of seven months in reading levels among students in its dyslexia intervention program.

    A statement published in January on an AmeriCorps webpage says the agency is in the process of “conducting a full review” to comply with President Donald Trump’s executive order banning diversity, equity and inclusion in federal programs. But Mullins and other AmeriCorps grantees said diversity, equity and inclusion efforts were not listed anywhere as part of their operations.

    “That’s what’s devastating,” Mullins said. “It was completely out of our control. There was nothing you could do.”

    Related: Tracking Trump: His actions to dismantle the Education Department, and more

    The administration also gutted 85 percent of the agency’s federal staff, which has caused problems even for programs that are still receiving AmeriCorps funding. 

    The federal government terminated about half of the AmeriCorps grants for the Philadelphia Higher Education Network for Neighborhood Development. The group uses the funding to place members in local nonprofits and to help develop community partnerships in high-poverty schools. Director Hillary Kane said she’s been experiencing delays from the national AmeriCorps office in getting members approved for the programs that are still operating.

    “We need the humans in D.C. to do the stuff that they do, so we can do the stuff that we do,” Kane said. “The person we communicate with isn’t there.”

    About half of the AmeriCorps funding for the Philadelphia Higher Education Network for Neighborhood Development was cut this spring. Credit: Courtesy of PHENND

    On June 5, a federal judge granted a temporary injunction ordering the Trump administration to restore AmeriCorps funding in states that had sued over the budget cuts. The lawsuit, which was filed by two dozen Democratic-led states in May, challenges the administration’s authority to cancel the funding without Congressional approval. But the judge’s injunction does not require the Trump administration to reinstate AmeriCorps’ federal employees, and funding is not being restored to programs in states that did not sign on to the lawsuit, including Alaska, home of the Alaska Afterschool Network, or Virginia, where Aspire Afterschool is based.

    The Hindman Settlement School in Kentucky was one organization whose funding was restored this summer because of the lawsuit. Mullins said he’s hopeful the nonprofit will continue to receive AmeriCorps funding for the upcoming grant cycle in the fall.

    For Kane, the injunction does not undo the chaos caused by the abrupt cancellation of half of her Philadelphia organization’s funding. Many terminated members that were with Kane’s organization have already moved on. 

    “It’s too late for us,” she said.

    Related: Schools push career ed classes ‘for all,’ even kids heading to college

    Programs whose grants were cut can apply again in the next grant cycle, but the president’s 2026 budget calls for shutting down AmeriCorps entirely. 

    While the debate in Washington rages, current and former volunteers mourn the potential loss of a program they said gave their lives meaning and led to employment. The avenue AmeriCorps provided for Tegner to start a career at the Alaska Afterschool Network gave her purpose in life, she said. She’s worried if the program ends, there won’t be another pathway on the same scale for young idealists who aren’t sure what they want to do with their lives.

    “It helps young people of all ages grow and try new things,” Tegner said. “That’s very much what it was for me.”

    Contact staff writer Ariel Gilreath on Signal at arielgilreath.46 or at [email protected].   

    This story about AmeriCorps jobs was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger 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.

    Join us today.

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  • El sistema de cuidado infantil de Estados Unidos depende de los inmigrantes. Sin ellos, podría colapsar

    El sistema de cuidado infantil de Estados Unidos depende de los inmigrantes. Sin ellos, podría colapsar

    ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. — La casa de Maggi, situada en un barrio residencial de esta ciudad, es un refugio para las familias locales. Es un lugar donde, tras solo unas semanas en el programa de cuidado infantil familiar de Maggi esta primavera, un niño en edad preescolar empezó a llamarla “mamá” y a su marido “papá”. Los niños que han terminado el programa de Maggi siguen rogando a sus padres que los lleven a su casa en lugar ir de al colegio.

    En los últimos meses, cada vez son menos las familias que acuden a la guardería: se han intensificado las medidas de control de la inmigración y las políticas migratorias han cambiado rápidamente. Tanto Maggi como las familias que dependen de ella, algunas de las cuales son inmigrantes, ya no se sienten seguras. 

    “Hay mucho miedo en la comunidad latina, y todos ellos son buenas personas, gente buena y trabajadora”, dijo Maggi, de 47 años, en español a través de un intérprete una mañana reciente, mientras observaba a un recién nacido dormir en lo que solía ser su sala de estar. Desde que comenzó su propio negocio de cuidado infantil hace dos años, ha dedicado casi cada centímetro de su espacio común a crear un oasis colorido y lleno de juguetes para los niños. Maggi no entiende por qué tantos inmigrantes corren ahora el riesgo de ser deportados. “Llevamos aquí mucho tiempo”, dijo. “Hemos estado trabajando honestamente”.

    Los inmigrantes como Maggi desempeñan un papel crucial en el cuidado infantil en el hogar, así como en el sistema de cuidado infantil más amplio de Estados Unidos, que cuenta con más de 2 millones de trabajadores, en su mayoría mujeres. (The Hechinger Report no utiliza el apellido de Maggi por motivos de seguridad, tanto para ella como para las familias que utilizan sus servicios). Es muy difícil encontrar y retener a los cuidadores, no solo porque el trabajo es duro, sino también por los salarios bajos y las prestaciones limitadas. A nivel nacional, los inmigrantes representan casi el 20 % de la mano de obra dedicada al cuidado infantil. En la ciudad de Nueva York, los inmigrantes representan más del 40 % de la mano de obra dedicada al cuidado infantil. En Los Ángeles, casi el 50 %. 

    Maggi juega con una de sus pupilas en el patio trasero de su guardería. Maggi dirige una de las pocas guarderías que ofrecen atención las 24 horas del día, los 7 días de la semana, en su ciudad. Credit: Jackie Mader/The Hechinger Report

    La guerra de largo alcance de la administración Trump contra la inmigración, que incluye cuotas diarias para la detención de inmigrantes, nuevas restricciones a los permisos de trabajo y la detención de residentes legales, amenaza el ya frágil sistema de cuidado infantil de Estados Unidos. Los proveedores inmigrantes, especialmente aquellos que atienden a familias inmigrantes, se han visto especialmente afectados. Al igual que Maggi, los proveedores de cuidado infantil de todo el país están viendo cómo las familias desaparecen de su cuidado, lo que amenaza la viabilidad de esos negocios. En Estados Unidos, uno de cada cuatro niños menores de seis años tiene al menos un progenitor nacido en el extranjero. Algunos niños que podrían beneficiarse de cuidadores experimentados se encuentran ahora en casa con hermanos mayores o parientes ancianos, perdiéndose la socialización y la preparación para el jardín de infancia que los centros de cuidado proveen. Algunos trabajadores inmigrantes, independientemente de su situación, tienen demasiado miedo para ir a trabajar, lo que agrava la escasez de personal. Recientemente, la administración anunció que prohibiría el acceso de los niños indocumentados a Head Start, el programa de cuidado infantil financiado por el gobierno federal para niños de familias con bajos ingresos.

    Relacionado: Los niños pequeños tienen necesidades únicas y proporcionarles los cuidados adecuados puede ser un reto. Nuestro boletín gratuito sobre educación infantil hace un seguimiento de estos temas. 

    “Las políticas antiinmigrantes pueden y van a debilitar toda nuestra infraestructura de cuidado infantil”, afirmó Karla Coleman-Castillo, analista política sénior del Centro Nacional de Derecho de la Mujer. Los programas domiciliarios, en particular, se verán afectados, ya que suelen atender a más familias inmigrantes. “Cualquier cosa que amenace la estabilidad de la capacidad y la comodidad de las familias para acceder a la educación infantil, y la comodidad de los educadores para incorporarse o permanecer en el mercado laboral, va a afectar a un sector ya de por sí precario”.

    Para Maggi, las consecuencias no se han hecho esperar. En febrero, solo unas semanas después de que se anunciaran los primeros cambios, su matrícula pasó de 15 niños al día a siete. Algunas familias regresaron a México. Otras se pusieron tan nerviosas que no se atrevían a desviarse de sus rutas de trabajo ni siquiera para dejar a sus hijos rápidamente. Algunas ya no querían dar su información al estado para obtener ayuda para pagar la guardería.

    En mayo, solo dos niños, un bebé y un niño de 4 años, estaban matriculados a tiempo completo, junto con seis niños que acudían a la guardería antes o después del colegio. Maggi acepta a niños que pagan de forma privada y a aquellos que pagan con subsidios de cuidado infantil a través del programa estatal para niños de bajos ingresos. Gana unos 2.000 dólares al mes por el bebé y el niño en edad preescolar, y unos doscientos más cada semana por el cuidado después de la escuela, lo que supone una reducción significativa con respecto a los 9.000 o 10.000 dólares de finales de 2024. Para los padres que no reciben subsidios estatales, mantiene sus tarifas bajas: menos de 7 dólares la hora. “Me dicen que soy barata”, dice Maggi con una leve sonrisa. Pero ella no está dispuesta a subir sus tarifas. “Yo era madre soltera”, dijo. “Recuerdo que me costaba mucho encontrar a alguien que cuidara de mis hijos cuando tenía que trabajar”. 

    Relacionado: Uno de cada cinco trabajadores de guarderías es inmigrante. Las deportaciones y redadas de Trump tienen a muchos aterrorizados

    Como muchos proveedores de cuidado infantil que emigraron a Estados Unidos siendo adultos, Maggi comenzó su carrera en un campo completamente diferente. Cuando era una joven madre, Maggi se licenció en Derecho en una universidad de México y trabajó en la fiscalía del estado de Coahuila, en el norte del país. Su trabajo le obligaba a trabajar muchos fines de semana y hasta altas horas de la noche, haciendole difícil cumplir con sus obligaciones como madre soltera. “Me siento muy mal por no haber podido pasar más tiempo con mis hijas”, añade. “Me perdí gran parte de su infancia”. 

    Durante un año, cuando sus hijas estaban en la escuela primaria, Maggi las matriculó en un internado, las dejaba allí los domingos por la noche y las recogía los viernes por la tarde. Algunos fines de semana, se llevaba a las niñas a su oficina, aunque sabía que no era un lugar adecuado para ellas. Maggi anhelaba un trabajo diferente en el que pudiera pasar más tiempo con ellas.

    Hace unos 15 años, cuando la violencia se recrudeció en México, Maggi empezó a pensar seriamente en emigrar. Su primo fue secuestrado y los policías con los que trabajaba fueron asesinados. Maggi recibió amenazas de muerte de los delincuentes a los que había ayudado a procesar. Entonces, un día, unos hombres la detuvieron y le dijeron que sabían dónde vivía y que tenía hijas. “Fue entonces cuando dije: esto no es seguro para mí”.

    En 2011, Maggi y las niñas emigraron a Estados Unidos, llevándose todo lo que cupo en cuatro maletas. Terminaron en El Paso, Texas, donde Maggi vendía gelatina y tamales para ganarse la vida. Tres años más tarde, se mudaron a Albuquerque. Maggi conoció a su marido, se casaron y poco después dieron la bienvenida a un hijo, su cuarto hijo.

    En Albuquerque, Maggi se estableció en una vida dedicada al cuidado infantil profesional, lo que le resultó natural y le permitió pasar más tiempo con su familia que lo que había podido en México. Ella y su marido se sometieron a un intenso proceso de selección y se convirtieron en padres de acogida. (Nuevo México no exige que las personas tengan un estatus migratorio legal para ser padres de acogida). Maggi matriculó a su hijo menor en un centro Head Start, donde los administradores la animaron a empezar a trabajar como voluntaria. Le encantaba estar en el aula con los niños, pero sin permiso de trabajo no podía convertirse en profesora de Head Start. En su lugar, después de que su hijo empezara la escuela primaria, empezó a ofrecer cuidados infantiles de manera informal a familias que conocía. Maggi obtuvo la licencia del estado hace dos años, tras un largo proceso que incluyó varias inspecciones, una verificación de antecedentes y una formación obligatoria en RCP y principios de cuidado infantil.

    Maggi no tardó en crear un negocio muy respetado que cubría una necesidad acuciante en Albuquerque. El suyo es uno de los pocos programas de cuidado infantil de la zona que ofrece atención las 24 horas del día, los 7 días de la semana, algo poco habitual en el sector a pesar de la gran necesidad que existe. Los padres que confían en ella son profesores, cuidadores de personas mayores y personas que atienden llamadas al 911.

    En la sala de estar de Maggi, los niños se mueven libremente entre áreas de aprendizaje cuidadosamente seleccionadas con estanterías repletas de juguetes de colores, materiales de arte colocados en una mesa en miniatura y filas de libros. Los pósters educativos de sus paredes refuerzan los colores, los números y las formas. Le encanta exponer a los niños a nuevas experiencias, y con frecuencia los lleva de excursión a tiendas de comestibles o restaurantes. Es cariñosa, pero tiene grandes expectativas para los niños, insistiendo en que recojan lo que ensucian, sigan las instrucciones y digan “por favor” y “gracias”.

    “Quiero que tengan valores”, dijo Maggi. “Les enseñamos a respetar a los animales, a las personas y a los demás”.

    A finales de 2024, el negocio de Maggi estaba floreciendo y ella esperaba seguir creciendo. 

    Entonces, Donald Trump asumió el cargo.

    Relacionado: En Puerto Rico, la campaña de Trump para desmantelar el Departamento de Educación pega más fuerte

    Aún no se han publicado datos sobre hasta qué punto las políticas de inmigración de la actual administración han afectado a la disponibilidad de servicios de cuidado infantil. Pero las entrevistas con los proveedores de cuidado infantil y las investigaciones apuntan a lo que puede suceder en el futuro, y que ya está sucediendo. 

    Después de que una política de 2008 permitiera al Servicio de Inmigración y Control de Aduanas verificar el estatus migratorio de las personas detenidas por la policía local, se produjo un marcado descenso en la matriculación en guarderías tanto de niños inmigrantes como no inmigrantes. También se produjo una disminución en la oferta de trabajadores de guarderías. Aunque las mujeres eran una minoría entre los deportados, los investigadores descubrieron que la política provocó temor en las comunidades de inmigrantes y muchos abandonaron sus rutinas normales.

    En el sector del cuidado infantil, eso es problemático, según los expertos. Los inmigrantes que trabajan en este sector suelen tener un alto nivel de formación y están muy capacitados para interactuar positivamente con los niños, incluso más que los trabajadores nativos. Si una parte cualificada de la mano de obra es esencialmente “purgada” porque tiene demasiado miedo de ir a trabajar, eso reducirá la calidad del cuidado infantil, afirma Chris Herbst, profesor asociado de la Universidad Estatal de Arizona que ha estudiado el efecto de la política de inmigración en el cuidado infantil. “Como resultado, los niños recibirán un servicio deficiente”.

    Los programas domiciliarios como el de Maggi se encuentran entre los más vulnerables. Los hijos de inmigrantes son más propensos a estar en esos entornos de cuidado infantil. Sin embargo, en la década anterior a la pandemia, el número de programas domiciliarios disminuyó en un 25 % en todo el país, en parte debido a las dificultades financieras para mantener este tipo de negocios. 

    Relacionado: Un pequeño pueblo rural en Nebraska necesitaba más cuidado infantil en español. Esto fue lo que se hizo para obtenerlo

    Una mañana reciente, Maggi estaba de pie en su sala de estar, vestida con una bata blanca adornada con coloridas mariquitas de dibujos animados. El año pasado, la sala habría estado llena de niños. Ahora está en silencio, salvo por la charla de Kay, la única niña en edad preescolar a la que cuida cada día. (The Hechinger Report no utiliza el nombre completo de Kay para proteger su privacidad). Mientras la pequeña se sentaba en una de las mesitas a hacer una manualidad, Maggi acunaba al bebé, que acababa de despertarse de la siesta. Los ojos del bebé se fijaron en el rostro de Maggi mientras ella lo mimaba. 

    “¡Hola, chiquito!”, le dijo en español. Él esbozó una sonrisa y el rostro de Maggi se iluminó.

    Mientras una de sus hijas se encargaba de alimentar al recién nacido, Maggi siguió a Kay al exterior. La niña de preescolar saltaba del arenero a los columpios y a la casita de juegos, con Maggi siguiéndola diligentemente y jugando a su lado.

    Los defensores y expertos afirman que el aumento de las medidas de control de la inmigración puede causar estrés y traumas a los niños pequeños. En Estados Unidos, uno de cada cuatro niños menores de seis años tiene al menos un progenitor nacido en el extranjero. Credit: Jackie Mader/The Hechinger Report

    Finalmente, Kay se detuvo y apoyó la cabeza en la cadera de Maggi. Maggi le acarició suavemente la cabeza y le preguntó si estaba lista para mostrar sus habilidades preescolares. Las dos se sentaron en una mesita a la sombra y Kay observó con entusiasmo mientras Maggi sacaba pequeños juguetes de plástico. Kay apiló tres tortugas de plástico. “¡Mamá, mira! ¡Son amigas!”, dijo Kay, riendo. 

    Kay llegó al programa de Maggi después de que su madre la sacara de otro programa en el que sentía que no la trataban bien. Aquí, Kay es tan feliz que se esconde cuando su madre viene a recogerla. Sin embargo, a Kay le falta un aspecto clave de la experiencia del cuidado infantil. Normalmente, la niña tendría varios amigos de su edad con los que jugar. Ahora, cuando le preguntan quiénes son sus amigos, nombra a las hijas adultas de Maggi.

    A Maggi le preocupan aún más los niños que ya no ve. La mayoría están ahora al cuidado de sus abuelos, pero es poco probable que esos familiares sepan cómo estimular el desarrollo y la educación de los niños, dijo Maggi. Muchos no pueden correr con los niños como ella lo hace, y es más probable que recurran a las tabletas o la televisión para entretenerlos.

    Ha visto los efectos en los niños que abandonan su programa y regresan más tarde habiendo retrocedido. “Algunos de ellos están haciendo bien las cosas conmigo, y luego, cuando regresan, se han quedado atrás”, dijo. Por ejemplo, un niño al que Maggi solía cuidar acababa de empezar a caminar cuando su madre lo sacó de la guardería a principios de este año, al comienzo de la campaña de represión de la inmigración. Al estar al cuidado de un familiar, Maggi descubrió que ahora pasan gran parte del día sentados en casa.

    Relacionado: Cruzaron la frontera en busca de mejores escuelas. Ahora algunas familias están abandonando Estados Unidos

    Antes de que comenzara la segunda administración Trump, el panorama de la atención infantil parecía prometedor en Nuevo México, un estado con una tasa de pobreza infantil crónicamente alta. En 2022, Nuevo México comenzó a implementar una serie de cambios en las políticas de atención infantil. Los votantes aprobaron una enmienda constitucional que garantiza el derecho a la educación infantil temprana, con financiación sostenida para apoyarla. El estado ahora permite que las familias que ganan hasta el 400 % del nivel federal de pobreza, o casi 125.000 dólares al año, puedan optar a la guardería gratuita. Eso incluye a la mayoría de los hogares del estado. Entre otros cambios está que ahora se paga más a los proveedores por los niños que inscriben a través del programa de asistencia del estado. 

    El aumento ha sido útil para muchos proveedores, incluida Maggi. Antes de la pandemia, recibía unos 490 dólares al mes del estado por cada niño en edad preescolar inscrito en su programa, frente a los 870 dólares al mes que recibe ahora. Si inscribe a bebés que cumplen los requisitos para recibir asistencia para el cuidado infantil, recibe 1.100 dólares al mes, casi 400 dólares más que antes de la pandemia. Sin embargo, necesita que los niños estén inscritos para recibir los pagos. El hecho de que su programa funcione las 24 horas del día, los siete días de la semana, le ayuda. Gana dinero extra del estado cuando cuida a los niños por las tardes y los fines de semana, y recibe una mensualidad para cubrir los gastos de los niños en acogida que recibe.

    Los defensores del cuidado infantil en Nuevo México están preocupados porque la política de inmigración afectará al progreso del sector. “Me preocupa que podamos perder centros de educación infantil que podrían ayudar a las familias trabajadoras”, afirmó Maty Miranda, organizadora de OLÉ Nuevo México, una organización sin ánimo de lucro dedicada a la defensa de los derechos. “Podríamos perder a valiosos profesores y los niños perderían esos fuertes vínculos”. Las medidas de control de la inmigración han tenido “un enorme impacto emocional” en los proveedores del estado, añadió. 

    Las autoridades estatales no respondieron a una solicitud de datos sobre cuántos proveedores de cuidado infantil son inmigrantes. En todo el estado, los inmigrantes representan alrededor del 13 % de la población activa total. 

    Muchos educadores locales de la primera infancia están asustados debido a la aplicación más extrema de las leyes de inmigración, al igual que lo están los niños a su cargo, dijo Miranda. “A pesar del miedo, los maestros me dicen que cuando entran en sus aulas, intentan olvidar lo que está pasando fuera”, añadió. “Son profesionales que intentan continuar con su trabajo”.

    Maggi dijo que está tan ocupada con los niños que permanecen a su cuidado que no tiene tiempo extra para trabajar en otro empleo y obtener más ingresos. No especula sobre cuánto tiempo podrá sobrevivir su familia, sino que prefiere centrarse en la esperanza de que las cosas mejoren.

    El mayor temor de Maggi en este momento es el bienestar de los hijos de los inmigrantes a los que ella y tantos otros proveedores de servicios a domicilio atienden. Sabe que algunos de sus niños y familias corren el riesgo de ser detenidos por el ICE, y que ese tipo de interacciones, para los niños, pueden provocar trastornos de estrés postraumático, alteraciones en el desarrollo cerebral y cambios de comportamiento. Algunos de los padres de Maggi le han dejado números de emergencia por si son detenidos por los funcionarios de inmigración. 

    Muchos de los niños a los que Maggi cuida después de la escuela tienen la edad suficiente para comprender que la deportación es una amenaza. “Muestran miedo, porque sus padres están asustados”, dijo Maggi. “Los niños están empezando a vivir con eso”.

    En medio de los vertiginosos cambios políticos, Maggi intenta seguir mirando hacia adelante. Está trabajando para mejorar sus habilidades en inglés. Su marido está obteniendo una credencial para poder ayudarla más en su programa. Sus tres hijas están estudiando para convertirse en educadoras de la primera infancia, con el objetivo de unirse al negocio familiar. Con el tiempo, quiere atender a niños de preescolar inscritos en el programa estatal, lo que le proporcionará una fuente de ingresos estable.

    A pesar de toda la incertidumbre, Maggi dice que la sostiene un propósito mayor. “Quiero que disfruten de su infancia”, dijo en una tarde soleada, mirando con cariño a Kay mientras la niña dejaba sus pequeños zapatos rosas a un lado y saltaba a un arenero. Es el tipo de infancia que Maggi recuerda en México. Kay se rió encantada cuando Maggi se agachó y vertió arena fresca sobre los pies de la pequeña. “Una vez que creces, no hay vuelta atrás”.

    Comunícate con Jackie Mader al 212-678-3562 o [email protected]

    Esta historia sobre los inmigrantes fue producida por The Hechinger Report, una organización de noticias independiente y sin fines de lucro que se centra en la desigualdad y la innovación en la educación. Suscríbase al boletín informativo del Hechinger.

    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.

    Join us today.

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