Anti-CRT or Anti-Me?: How Political Context Affects the Implementation and Interpretation of Restrictive Education Policy

Abstract

Over the past 5 years, battles against inclusive teaching have been waged in every state. While not all proposed restrictions have been passed, these efforts have resulted in restrictions on teaching about identity in many districts across the country. These restrictions are partisan in nature yielding, meaning that there is significant geographic variation in restrictive policies within and across states, including those with consolidated partisanship. We ask where and under what political conditions teachers are affected by these policies. To investigate this question, we interviewed 83 teachers across eight states before the November 2024 elections. We found nuance across our interview sample, and teachers attributed their local political contexts as fundamental to their experiences with restrictive policies. Our findings suggest that bottom-up forces—local political actors most often described as parents—are key factors in shaping education policy, and that local political climate has immense power to shape statewide policy implementation.

Keywords

educational policy education politics teacher context politics policy in-depth interviewing education federalism teacher contexts teacher experiences bottom-up policy change anti-CRT policy anti-LGBTQ policy

Introduction

Over the past 5 years, battles against inclusive teaching have been waged at both the state and district level, resulting in proposed restrictive legislation against teaching and books about race, sexuality, and gender in every state (e.g, anti-CRT laws, teaching about gender and sexuality, etc.), and enacted restrictive legislation across 30 states (Alexander et al., 2024). These restrictions are partisan in nature and typically passed in Republican districts and states (Collins, 2024). Despite the partisan patterns of these restrictions, survey data suggests that the locations where teachers change their behavior do not perfectly map on to the locations where restrictions exist (Woo et al., 2024). We ask: What explains the variation in how teachers respond to restrictive policies, whether enacted or not? And, in what instances do we see implementation shifting away from prescribed policy restrictions?

We begin by acknowledging that part of this variation can be attributed to institutional features of education policy. Reform is often considered from a top-down perspective, in how both federal regulations shift policy at the highest level (Bowman, 2017; Cohen & Moffitt, 2010; Manna, 2006b; Snyder & Reckhow, 2018) and education elites initiate reform at the state- and local-level in the past (Tyack & Cuban, 1995). Many recent efforts have particularly focused on teacher accountability (D. Goldstein, 2015b). Recent shifts in national and state politics (e.g., Abramowitz, 2022; Druckman et al., 2021; Grumbach, 2023) have produced important shifts in local education politics (Berkman & Plutzer, 2011; Marschall et al., 2011). When combined with past evidence that teachers implement polices in accordance with local public opinion (Berkman & Plutzer, 2011; Marschall et al., 2011), we consider how local politics—typically parents and school boards—shape and drive variations in education policy and implementation.¹ Specifically, we argue that this demonstrates that bottom-up influences are a key factor in determining education federalism (Manna, 2006b).

To investigate our questions, we interviewed 83 teachers across eight states around the November 2024 elections. Perhaps unsurprisingly, we found that many teachers in restrictive districts changed their practices in reaction to restrictive policy, and many teachers in districts without restrictive policies did not. This included changing assignments, no longer allowing students to borrow classroom books, and tempering in-class conversations. However, similar to Woo et al. (2024), we found that teacher behavior sometimes followed restrictive policies, and sometimes did not. Although some teachers in our sample described using their professional judgment to decide if and how to implement changes due to restrictive policies, many teachers used their assessments of local politics to determine whether and how to shift classroom practices, and how they engaged with students.

Ultimately, these findings suggest that bottom-up forces are critical to shaping teacher responses to restrictive education policies. Now more than ever, as these policies start to appear in federal regulations through executive orders and guidance issued by the U.S. Department of Education, it is critical to understand how restrictions on teaching affect teachers, when teachers feel safe to do their jobs, and what this means for teachers’ practice—including lesson planning, classroom instruction, and relationships with students. These findings bear concerning implications for how teachers perceive their knowledge and skill sets to be understood by the public and further demonstrate that in some political contexts, teachers do not feel safe to use their professional judgment in the classroom without censorship. In addition, these findings underline the importance of understanding education policy reform not just as a top-down practice, but also as bottom-up political forces where local political action by school board members, district leaders, parents and parent groups determine state and local policy. This local political action is often driven by far-right groups (Pappano, 2024; Schneider & Berkshire, 2020), meaning that we should also consider the asymmetric affects these outcomes have in a hyper-partisan environment, as well as asymmetric burdens placed on historically excluded communities. Thus, our findings have implications for democracy and education, including whether what is taught reflects the democratic will of the people or the views and doctrine of a fringe minority. In addition, we believe these findings bear important implications for democratic teaching practices within the classroom, as teachers may prevent dialogue, avoid engagement with sociopolitical topics and current events, and feel pressure to disconnect from students. We believe that limiting debate and democratic pedagogy ill-equips young people to take on society’s challenging and pressing problems and to learn essential lessons of media literacy, civic engagement, and civil political participation. All told, these features will weaken our democracy over time (Labaree, 1997).

Institutions, Polarization, and Uneven Policy Implementation

Institutions, policy elites, and politics all have shaped the production of policy and policy reform. Here, we focus our inquiry on the ways that education reform is tied to variance in implementation, and how reform matters for instruction and how teachers implement education policies. We argue that understanding how the newest wave of education policies are implemented requires us to first recognize the changing landscape of politics and policy-making generally (Abramowitz, 2022; Grumbach, 2023), and specifically that these changes have also shifted the adoption and implementation of education policies.

Reforming Education

Education reform is a difficult concept to define; as Tyack and Cuban (1995) describe, progress is defined as much by one’s political beliefs as it is about measuring shifts in education. Nonetheless, there are clear contributions to how education policy shifts and what causes it to do so. One clear example of shifts stems from changes to education from the top-down through institutional features, most clearly evident in efforts to create education reform by shifting policy—and building (weak) institutions—at the national level (Cohen & Moffitt, 2010).

The federal government had little role in education until it began to apply funding leverage to enforce civil rights measures to reduce inequality between Black and White students and across states in the Elementary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA) of 1965 (Cohen & Moffitt, 2010; Moffitt & Cohen, 2015). Decades of criticisms toward ESEA focused on the Act’s lack of substantive changes in student outcomes and reduction of inequality (Manna, 2006b)—a lack of progress that was eventually attributed to lack of accountability in the classroom. Largely bipartisan support led to a series of federal reforms through the Bush administration’s No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act (Cohen & Moffitt, 2010). NCLB aimed to create more uniform and higher proficiency standards across all 50 states (Robinson, 2014). Further, schools and teachers would be held accountable for meeting state-developed standards or they would risk losing federal funds (Manna, 2006a; McGovern, 2011). The Obama administration amended NCLB first by announcing NCLB Waivers (EdNext, 2012) and then passing the Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA). The ESSA institutionalized state variation because institutionalized waivers to states that failed to meet the standardized test accountability goals of NCLB, in exchange for adoption of policies backed by the federal government like higher instructional standards (e.g. Common Core) and teacher evaluation reforms (Bowman, 2017; Wong, 2015). These federal reforms drastically shaped education policy and allowed for top-down reform from the highest level (Snyder & Reckhow, 2018).

However, while the development of federal institutions to push reform has been a critical development of education reform, much reform also occurs at the state level (Coburn et al., 2011; Cowen, 2024; Herlihy et al., 2014). For instance, the Common Core State Standards were widely adopted at the state level, although implemented differently across each state (Coburn et al., 2016). As another example, many states passed special education policies before the federal government (Lipsky, 2010; Weatherly & Lipsky, 1977), in some ways leading the way for changes at the federal level (Harry & Ocasio-Stoutenburg, 2020). Often pushed by education elites—foundation leaders, policy makers, and so forth—many reforms have largely focused on how to improve student outcomes or school performance (Cowen, 2024; Diamond & Spillane, 2004; Jacob, 2005; Polikoff & Porter, 2014; Tyack & Cuban, 1995). Similarly, pushes by non-elite activists have also centered on improving outcomes, and often more specifically at reducing inequality for historically excluded groups, including those based on race, gender, ability, and language (Tyack & Cuban, 1995).

More recently, a focus on teacher accountability has occupied the attention of reform at federal, state, and local levels over the last few decades (D. Goldstein, 2015b; Kane & Staiger, 2012; Kraft & Lyon, 2024; Sartain & Morris, 2024; White et al., 2012). According to Ingersoll (2009), two divergent reform narratives stem from advocates for teacher-centered reforms. In one view, the disempowerment narrative recognizes the centralization of education and schools as difficult for teachers to navigate, and, just as importantly, prevents teachers from using expertise to inform and improve the institutions in which they teach (e.g., Restler, 2017, 2020; Santoro, 2011). In contrast, the disorganization narrative blames shortcomings of schools on the disorganization of schools and, fundamentally, on the lack of accountability of teachers, which results in poor teaching performance (Ingersoll, 2009). Concerns about the teaching workforce have long plagued the profession (D. Goldstein, 2015b). In fact, these concerns were instrumental to feminizing the teaching workforce at the turn of the 20th Century (D. Goldstein, 2015a, 2015b), and for policing teacher behavior during the Red Scare (Pappano, 2024). However, more recent efforts for reform focused on teachers have concentrated on removing the lowest performing teachers and increasing accountability through testing and evaluations (e.g., Jiang et al., 2015; Kane & Staiger, 2012; Sartain & Morris, 2024). These reforms have sought to standardize expectations for teachers and “good teaching” across contexts (Jiang et al., 2015; Kraft & Gilmour, 2017; Steinberg & Donaldson, 2016).

The effects of these reforms on teachers has been non-trivial. Grappling with any education reform is an emotional endeavor for teachers (Blaushild et al., 2024). In the context of numerous accountability, standards-based, and curricular reforms, interest in teaching as a profession has decreased, along with prestige of the profession and relative compensation (Kraft & Lyon, 2024). Inside the classroom, teacher expectations of authority and control have decreased along with teacher job satisfaction (Kraft & Lyon, 2024). Further, teachers internalize these accountability pressures and grapple with them alongside other goals of education, including to prepare students as citizens who will meaningfully participate in their community (Kaul, 2025; Labaree, 1997). Often, accountability measures rely on only which can be quantified (Apple, 2001; Ellis & Orchard, 2014; Ellis et al., 2016; Philip et al., 2019).

High stakes testing environments specifically have been demonstrated to increase stress, decrease teacher self-efficacy, and coincide with a more negative school climate (Gonzalez et al., 2017; Saeki et al., 2018; Von der Embse et al., 2016). Indeed, education reforms can be demoralizing and damaging to teachers, particularly if reforms give teachers little agency in what and how they teach through standardizing curricula, limiting the scope of what can be taught in their classrooms, and requiring teachers to act in ways inconsistent with what they believe is best for students or their professional standards (Levinson, 2015; Santoro, 2011, 2018).

Interestingly, even as a central element in pushes for reform, teachers are also instrumental in whether or how reforms are implemented within schools (Coburn, 2001, 2005; Coburn & Stein, 2006; Spillane et al., 2002). While reforms of all kinds typically ask teachers to shoulder the burden, teachers could comply “symbolically or fitfully or not at all” or by hybridizing them (Tyack & Cuban, 1995). Indeed, teacher implementation of policy within the classroom varies considerably, due to varying guidance from district and building administrators and teachers’ own interpretations of policy (Coburn, 2005; Coburn & Stein, 2006; Spillane et al., 2002). For example, Goldstein (2008) demonstrated that, after NCLB, kindergarten teachers crafted their classroom policies in a way that responded to their professional contexts but also was consistent with their knowledge and professional beliefs and preferences. Thus, teacher knowledge and experience in conjunction with factors specific to their individual school context determine how policy implementation varies from classroom to classroom.

Shifting Politics and Ground-Up Education Reform

The current movement toward reforming education by restricting classroom content and pushing for parents’ rights are neither new to this moment nor unique. However, these efforts are grounded within important shifts to both state-level policy and the composition of politics (including education politics). Combined, these two features contribute to environmental factors that have not only led to the adoption of restrictive policy, but also likely matter for how teachers implement policy in their classrooms.

American politics is currently defined by a high degree of partisan polarization—which has been driven in party by ideological sorting among party members (Abramowitz, 2022). As party elites and the public have grown further apart, partisans have also shifted how they think about the role of parties (Wagner & Meyer, 2023; Westfall et al., 2015), how they participate in politics (Ahn & Mutz, 2023; Hetherington, 2008), and even how they evaluate basic democratic features (Donovan et al., 2020; Kingzette et al., 2021). The hyper-partisan environment has shifted how the American public relates to each other (Druckman et al., 2021) and also how it consumes information (Bolsen et al., 2014). Changing media infrastructure, including engagement on social media, makes space for echo chambers, which also reflects some levels of polarization among the public (e.g., Kubin et al., 2021; McClain et al., 2024). These changes have also led to shifts in how the dominant parties operate; for Republicans, this has included a concentrated push for control at the state-level, including by working to change political rules to maintain power and prevent opposing policies from passing (Grumbach, 2018). Indeed, on most policy domains, state-level policies have diverged based on partisan control (Grumbach, 2018), and the rise of template legislation makes it easier (and faster) to distribute legislation state to state (e.g., Hertel-Fernandez, 2014). Critically, policy has worked to erode democracy in Republican-led states over the past 2 decades (Grumbach, 2023).

Against this backdrop, the changes in politics and state-policy making have translated to a shift in education politics and policy. Although there were important partisan pushes for education following ESEA,² many reforms from ESEA to ESSA were bipartisan in nature (Cohen & Moffitt, 2010, Schneider & Berkshire, 2020). In fact, much of education politics has been broadly bipartisan until relatively recently (Houston, 2025). On issues of school funding and prayer in schools, state education policy did not strongly diverge prior to 2018 (Grumbach, 2022).³ Education politics began to strongly shift during the Obama administration, as a resurgence of the “Parent’s Choice” movement renewed (Pappano, 2024; Schneider & Berkshire, 2020). Initially born out of conservative parents fighting against school integration, this movement again has shown up among the far right and has included groups like Moms For Liberty (Black, 2020; Schneider & Berkshire, 2020). Early policy goals for education reform included vouchers or school choice and then began to shift toward education content, including social-emotional learning (Pappano, 2024; Ravitch, 2010, 2016). Education politics further began to shifted in 2020, across states, after intentional efforts by Christopher Ruffo and other conservative activists to restrict teaching around identity in schools in response to progressive content like “The 1619 Project” (Bonilla et al., 2025; Collins, 2024). Specifically targeting teaching on race through “anti- CRT” policies, the first states (Oklahoma, Tennessee, and Texas) enacted policies in May 2021 (Schwartz, 2021, 2025). At least 18 states have imposed bans or other restricts at the state level—whether through adopted legislation or through other means (Alexander et al., 2024).

Throughout this same time period, the public’s view of teachers grew increasingly negative (Berkshire & Schneider, 2024; Kraft & Lyon, 2024). Although teachers were initially widely respected and believed to be important to education, polls measuring public attitudes toward teachers have demonstrated the public has decreasing respect of teachers (Kraft & Lyon, 2024). Perhaps just as importantly, these attitudes tend to be broadly partisan such that Republicans are much more likely to dismiss the performance and ability of teachers. A survey by EdNext in 2022 showed that while nearly half of Republicans believed that parents should have the most say about what happens in public schools (compared to local officials, administrators, and teachers), less than 10% of Democrats felt the same (EdNext, 2022). Perhaps it is no surprise, then, that schools and teachers account for local public opinion as they determine classroom policy (Berkman & Plutzer, 2011; Marschall et al., 2011). Thus, we anticipate that some of the variation of teacher practices around restrictive education policy (Woo et al., 2023) may similarly result from teacher understanding of local preferences and parent activism. For instance, Woo et al. (2024) found that teachers who live in districts with restrictive policies in place largely do shift their teaching strategies; however, some teachers in districts without restrictions preemptively shift their teaching. Importantly, Woo et al. (2024) found that many teachers, regardless of the policy implemented, indicated uncertainty around what policy in their district actually was.

Data and Method

Data Collection

This study relies on 83 interviews with current K–12 teachers in eight states, including solidly Democrat (Illinois and Minnesota), solidly Republican (Arkansas, Indiana, and Texas), and swing states (Michigan, Montana, and Wisconsin), which we define as states with a state-wide or federally competitive election during the 2024 general elections.⁴ We recruited through snowball and then purposive sampling (Patton, 2002). First, the team shared study information, including a recruitment flyer with our personal and professional networks and asked for contacts to share the information with any teachers who met our study criteria within their networks. The study team also asked teachers who participated in the interview to pass along study information within their networks.

To express interest, teachers were directed to complete a demographic survey, where respondents were given a consent form, were asked to indicate their willingness to participate in the interview, and given a set of demographic questions which included race and ethnicity, gender, state, partisanship, and information on their teaching role. From the survey sample, the authors purposively sampled within each state to capture a range of experiences and perspectives (see the Table 1. for more detailed demographic details of our interview sample). While we believe the purposive and snowball sampling is the correct strategy for a study on hot-button culture war issues and how they interact with someone’s career, we also acknowledge that this is not representative of all teachers. Further, while our sample yields important state, gender, and ethnoracial diversity, our focus was more on detailing a set of possible reasoning rather than approximating teacher demographic representation. We acknowledge that this approach may highlight some experiences over others. Thus, we engage with our results as explanations of patterns, but we do not attribute frequencies to themes, as one might with a representative sample.

Table 1

Sample Demographics

Variable	Sample	Total (Percent)
Gender	Male	19 (22.89)
	Female	61(73.49)
	Non-binary	3(3.61)
Race	White	53(68.67)
	Black	13(15.66)
	Latine	10(12.05)
	Asian	5(6.02)
	Other	2(2.40)
State Party	Blue	32(38.55)
	Purple	23(27.71)
	Red	28(33.73)
Party Identification	Democrat	65(77.38)
	Republican	8(9.64)
	Independent	10(12.05)

All interviews were conducted between September and December 2024 (with the majority of interviews occurring before the results of the November 5 election). All interviews were conducted over Zoom. The interviews ranged from 52 minutes to over 2 hours, although most interviews lasted between 75 and 90 minutes. The interview team included four researchers; two White women, one Latina, and one Asian woman. While we could not fully match all races and ethnicities present, as much as possible interviews of members from historically excluded racial and ethnic groups were conducted by the Latina or Asian woman to help mitigate interview affects stemming from cultural differences. Nonetheless, we are also aware that ideological differences may feel as meaningful due to the political focus of this study. In each interview, research team members sought to embody cognitive empathy (Small & Calarco, 2022). As a research team, we worked to listen to all participants with compassion and patience—regardless of the views participants expressed and whether or how those views aligned with or contradicted the views of the interviewer. Despite the political nature of these interviews and potential for conflict, no interview was hostile and all participants expressed appreciation for the attentiveness of interviewers.

Data Analysis

All interviews were transcribed verbatim, and then identifying information was removed from transcripts. All participants chose pseudonyms, which we use; all city, district, and school names were replaced with a generic name, and any content within the transcripts that could reveal the participant or their school or district were removed from transcripts. De-identified transcripts were then uploaded to NVivo, a qualitative analysis software to be coded.

While we know that certain aspects of the policy environment should matter, we were unsure how or why. Thus, we began our qualitative coding analysis by using high-inference codes which indicated if teachers changed their instruction, including their teaching approach, instructional content, or not at all. Another high inference code was if teachers received guidance around these restrictive policies from their school or district administrators. We also coded for types of restrictions (e.g., race, gender, etc.) that teachers experienced as policy changes, protections (e.g., if the school board explicitly stated certain types of lessons were desirable), possible sources of threats, and sources of support. After the first round of coding, we engaged in a second round of inductive coding based on emerging themes that surfaced in our first round of coding (Glaser & Strauss, 2017): specifically, we coded for differences in how and why teachers indicated changing their practice. Finally, we pulled coded data into data matrices to look at themes within and across participants’ state and local contexts (Miles & Huberman, 1994) and memoed to arrive at themes and findings (Lareau, 2021).

Importantly, while we did create data displays that allowed us to analyze teacher changes according to their identities and intersectional identities, in the analysis below, we decouple identity from teacher statements. Part of this decision is also intended to be protective; in some spaces, Black, Latine, and LGBTQ+ respondents are likely to be particularly vulnerable. Thus, in this manuscript, anonymity feels more protective than simply naming identity without further engaging with the meaning of identity. However, this is also not intended to minimize the importance of how identity may also affect teacher decision-making on these topics. In fact, ongoing research demonstrates precisely how Black teachers in particular are disproportionately affected by these policies (Cabral et al., 2024). Research further demonstrates how these changes can disproportionately affect teaching around Black histories (Cunningham, 2023). Thus, because identity is of incredible importance here, we feel that the ways in which teacher identity shifts experiences deserve more space than we can adequately engage with in the space provided in this manuscript. We argue that future research should investigate additional pressures and potential penalties that Black and LGBTQ+ teachers may face given these restrictive policies, and across local political differences. We also do not distinguish urban, suburban, and rural differences in teacher school districts. While we also believe these are important, we had variation in our sample and we believe the local politics finding held regardless of district type.

Results

We report our findings based on restrictions present at the state level. In our sample, we considered states with state-wide restrictions on teaching about race, gender, and/or sexuality. Still, teachers in restrictive contexts also included regional variation and representation of urban, suburban, and rural districts from Arkansas, Indiana, Montana, and Texas. Although all states in our sample have had restrictive legislation proposed at the state- and district-level, the remaining four states represented in our sample include Illinois, Minnesota, Michigan, and Wisconsin, which have not had state-wide restrictions passed. We consider these states to be non-restrictive states. Importantly, we see teachers across states with restrictions describing more restrictions on teaching about identity—but not a complete absence in states without restrictions. In addition, teachers in non-restrictive states for the most part have more freedom to discuss identity, but some of these teachers also face pressure to censure. Consistent with prior studies (Doan et al., 2023; Woo et al., 2023; 2024), we find that, across states, the local politics in a district appear to have an instrumental effect on what happens in teachers’ classrooms.

Restrictive States

Perhaps unsurprisingly, many teachers in states with restrictive policies reported that they have had to shift curriculum or demonstrate awareness of the policies in their behaviors. Erin, an elementary school teacher, gave an example:

There was a book that had like two moms in it. And for our area, we felt that that would cause some issues. You know. And so we were like, “No.” And, my sister is [gay]. You know, but we still felt that that was not something that we wanted to push on children in our room.

While Erin explained that she was not given clear specific guidance to do this, her awareness of state policy coupled with her understanding of local politics pushed her to shift her content. Erin further describes changing classroom practice to comply with policy by no longer allowing children to check out books from her classroom library because she does not have time to cross reference her personal library with books on the banned books list.

While compliance typically appeared to be a teacher responding to state restrictions (often with little to no guidance from administrators), there were also cases of state regulations pushing against district policy. In one case, while the district allowed courses to engage with identity, state rules minimized the meaning of the course. Sloane, a high school English Language Arts teacher, described one regulation as follows:

So [the law] was really targeting critical race theory, which is not taught at the high school level [here], but . . . one of the effects of that was [the state] no longer recognizes African American history as . . . an accredited subject. So, we can give them local credit, like at our school, and our school decided to do that because we’ve always had African American history. . . . But that was like a letter that we had to send out to families and stuff that even though they will not receive, they can’t use it as one of their required like history credits, but they can use it as a local elective credit, okay? And so they can still take AP African American history, and they can still get their scores. The [state] won’t recognize them, but colleges will recognize them.

While teachers typically described compliance in terms of changing classroom practices or even curricula, they also screened personal information and beliefs from student knowledge. Often, teachers described making sure that they presented “both sides” of an argument or did not force their own views on students. But for some, this also meant not disclosing personal information to students. Erin, the elementary school teacher who earlier described making changes to her content by removing a book with two moms, also mentioned hiding pieces of her appearance as well as her family from students:

I have two tattoos on my foot, and for the first 5 years I taught school, I covered them up every day. Because I did not want to influence the kids to do something that I enjoyed, because every family [doesn’t] agree with that, you know? And so I have a picture of my sister, her wife, and my husband and my daughter in my classroom. But it’s not a[n] eight by 10. It’s a small picture. And I would answer the question if the kids ask me, but they’ve never even noticed that it’s in there.

Here, Erin described how her approach to working with children, including the personal information she shared with students, was shaped by her local political context. In particular, awareness of family beliefs and values increased pressure to avoid situations where she was viewed as outwardly challenging or differing from those views.

Anticipation of negative parent responses extended beyond teacher choice or sharing personal information. Importantly, beyond bringing classroom content and personal information into compliance with the restrictions, one teacher also expressed concern for teaching state required content following the restrictions. Lisa, who taught at an elementary school, described a unit on religion. This unit delved deeply into Mohammad’s history, his beliefs, and Muslim beliefs generally. While this unit is required by the state, Lisa described intense discomfort with teaching this part of the unit, even though she did not directly disagree with the standards:

I don’t think that that’s wrong, obviously, to share historical information with kids. . . . But knowing what the political climate is like—especially [here], like, it’s very, you know, I say Trumpy, I probably shouldn’t say that. .. The amount of like, political fighting I see [on social media] every day, like, causes me so much anxiety that I’m like, the district told us to use these things, but like, ultimately it’s going to be on me. Like, I’m going to have the angry parents if they’re upset about it. So it’s just like, yeah, it does make you not want to do things, even if you don’t necessarily think that they’re [wrong], you know.

For Lisa, even though these are state required standards, she had little anticipation that the district would support her if she received angry parent phone calls. Lisa also did not take issue with teaching the information itself; at the same time, because of anticipated pushback, she also expressed concern about the appropriateness of teaching these standards at her grade level.

In contrast to these reactions, however, a non-trivial number of teachers living in restrictive states did not feel that the restrictive policies shifted their behaviors in the classroom. In this group of teachers, there were four main reasons that teachers pointed to. First, some teachers described that the policies had no effect on classroom behavior because they would not comply with them due to their personal convictions. Ama, a high school English Language Arts teacher, described her wrestling with her convictions and restrictive policies as follows:

We have the famous “Name Rule”—we are not allowed to call students by their preferred name, unless their parents give consent, which is pretty devastating, to be honest with you. I really, I personally, sat in the staff meeting and cried because this is incredibly vulnerable place to be and to learn and to not be able to have an identity that you choose in a place where you’re trying to do this like vulnerable thing. I cannot imagine what that must be like for those students, and so it’s been sort of a tough situation to navigate.

Importantly, it was not as though Ama easily made this decision. Indeed, she described the difficulty of the situation, and the emotional toll was evident in her emotional response. She continued to explain precisely how vulnerable the student population in her district continued to be:

I don’t really fully understand why anyone cares what a student is called if it makes them feel comfortable, so I’m a little perplexed by—by these rules. . . . We also have had some pretty serious mental health issues. We lost a student in our school to suicide last year. Two years ago, I had—I went to four student family funerals, and two of those family members had died by suicide. And so, I don’t understand this, like extra layering of things that makes life worse when life is already hard. And so, I have a lot of respect for my students, and so, I just sort of call them what they ask to be called.

The second response among the teachers we interviewed in restrictive states, was that the local politics of the district was simply different than that of the state politics. Teachers described that despite state rules, their personal situation was different because their district was “liberal” or “progressive.” Aaron, a high school math teacher, outlined how he would respond to requirements to restrict his teaching:

No, I—I teach what I want and what the kids respond to, and if someone comes in and wants to tell me otherwise, I will walk out of the room and the kids would probably all break into applause.

In part, Aaron attributed not feeling the effect of bans to his community, “But I recognize that my school is probably one of, probably one of the most liberal schools in the entire state.” However, while he noted that his administrators had never given him guidance on how to engage with identity in the classroom, he also noted that his administrators encouraged teachers to be careful:

Our principal often will tell us that she, she tells us that in the sense of, you know, being careful what we share, because our school is actually actively, like monitored by a lot of conservative groups and political committees.

Kinley, an elementary school teacher, also attributed her ability to avoid restrictions in her classroom to the politics of her community as well as a supportive administration and school board.

First, I do work in a district that allows us to support our trans students, our students of color, all of that. I have, you know, Black Lives Matter poster up in my classroom, I have “Trans Rights Matter” posters in my classroom. . . . Obviously, I am not allowed to ever discuss political views or any of that, but I do have that freedom, whereas I know a lot of districts in [my state] are not necessarily that supportive. In fact, we just had a parent go to the board to fight that they did not think it was appropriate that a high school classroom had a pride flag up . . . and the board actually rejected that and said, “No, in our code of conduct, it says that we support all students, and this is the way to show those students that you support them. This is not a political stance.” So, I mean, our district and our board back that gay, lesbian teachers are not in fear of their jobs here, even if they’re out and open, as I know a number are. So, I think that’s really lucky. Also, I have had trans students in my class, and I am allowed to use their pronouns, but I know that that’s also because of the school I’ve worked at and the administration I have, and even within our district, I know that I have friends who are like, shocked at how open the discussion is in my school. But I also think that’s because of the clientele, if you will, of our school. You know, we have families that are just more open. And, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s just the culture of our school to be open and loving to everyone.

A third type of response was that restrictions did not limit all discussion of identity because the state standards in that subject area allow for or required expansive teaching. Sloane, the high school English Language Arts teacher from above, recognized the exception of her situation:

One of my state standards, written by the state, is that my students are capable of listening with empathy to people who walk different paths than they walk. So, I’m one of the exceptions. In class, like in the grand scheme of things, because I can tie everything back to that standard if we talk about it, but I have to just make sure whenever we do talk about, like, empathy, like whenever we listen, whenever we practice those skills, basically, I have like a chart, and it’s a student choice chart, so I can’t force them to learn about these things, but I can let them learn about it if they choose to.

In addition to tying her work to engage with identity to state requirements, Sloane also gave students a choice so that they select topics they feel more comfortable with. Combined, these strategies allowed Sloane to circumnavigate the restrictions in a way that she felt comfortable with.

Finally, a few teachers said that restrictions had no noticeable effect on them, but also did not describe a connection to restricted content. Some teachers, all teaching elementary grades, primarily felt no effects because they believed the issues were not relevant for the age level they taught. Jane, an elementary school teacher, noted that this discussion was not relevant: “Not at my grade level, ok? But for the older students.” Likewise, Tina, another elementary school teacher, said, “They have not [affected me], and I believe it’s because I’m in elementary school.”

In sum, although restrictive education policies exist across these states, the policies do not have the same effect within the states. In some locales, teachers are acutely aware of the restrictions, and their experiences directly and clearly shaped by them. However, in other locales, teachers felt less affected by restrictions—either because they did not see content in need of restriction, they felt teaching standards allowed them to incorporate choice-based lessons on identity, or their experience with children guided their actions. However, a key factor in whether restrictive policies affected teachers was still how teachers understand their local political context. More specifically, where teachers believed that the community would be reactive, teachers were more likely to avoid crossing lines set by restrictive policies—even to the point of hiding their own choices. In sharp contrast, where teachers felt that local politics was more accepting, and especially where administration and school boards were supportive, teachers felt greater freedom to discern what was appropriate to teach the standards in their classroom.

Non-Restrictive States

We also found that teachers’ local political context mattered in non-restrictive states. In our sample, teachers who worked in districts they described as being more “progressive” or “liberal” also reported that they were less likely to have local restrictions that affected their instruction. Moreover, they were more likely to have teachers who knew of restrictions elsewhere, but reported that they were not personally affected by them. In fact, many teachers who did not face restrictions also felt confident that people in their local community trusted their ability to teach. As an example, Aly, a high school English Language Arts teacher shared, “So, people who would, like, know my teaching style, trust me as an educator, trust my best interest, trust that I understand the needs of my students, and I think [they] would back me up on that.” Aly continued to explain that she believed that folks in her local community would

understand that if I need to use the text to get this point across. . . . They trust that I am picking the right text for the like that will meet the needs of my learners, and that they would go to bat for that for me.

In fact, in these places, teachers who shared these views directly incorporated inclusion into their classrooms. For instance, Tara, a middle school teacher, described her classroom library, “I’m very proud of the diversity of the books I have, as far as you know, gender identity and cultural diversity.” Tara also pointed to the warm reception the library gets from parents, however, and the fact that she has “never had parents” complain about the books their children have brought home.

The only time . . . parents have asked me to be, like, careful with the books I give their—their child, has been like magic and magicians. But as far as like gender identity, I’ve sent home a lot of you know. . . . I have students who are, you know, questioning and exploring. And—and I have books—in my—in my library, and some of them I have out. And I’ve only ever had parents say, “Wow, thank you that that book really, like opened.”

Yet, even beyond teachers’ own decisions to incorporate inclusive content in their class- room, districts also incorporated these ideals into their standards. Robert, a middle school science teacher, described how his district’s new curriculum incorporated more inclusive representations of children. “There were a lot of things that we really liked about the curriculum, but one thing I really liked is that throughout all the units, there are multiple race, gender scientists being presented to students.” Robert later described how students in his classroom continued these representations by highlighting prominent and diverse scientists on the classroom’s walls. Schools also incorporated inclusive principles through structural means as well. As Alicia, a high school English Language Arts teacher, described, not only did her district teach content about identity, but the parents in her community also approved of this content:

So right now, we have units that cover kind of all the things that you listed that are kind of listed as like being contested in different places. So we have units about like gender and like gender stereotypes. And we have a unit about, like, the death penalty and . . . mass incarceration and the different ways that folks of color are affected, specifically, like Black men. So we have a variety of topics that are very cultural, culturally relevant, and definitely, . . . would not be like, parents love the units that we do, and are very supportive.

In Abbie’s elementary school, curriculum requirements were also coupled with inclusive bathroom rules. They explained that their school had recently

removed boy and girl labels outside of bathrooms and it just says, “This bathroom has stalls,” [or] “This bathroom has urinals and stalls.” Um, we are required to use students’ preferred name and pronouns. The district created curriculum includes, includes conversations about race and class and immigration and like belonging and all kinds of like complicated and important topics.

However, not all teachers in non-restrictive states were in schools or districts where content was necessarily inclusive. Even though some of these teachers did not describe teaching content or receiving clear guidance on how to be inclusive on race and gender, they also did not feel the need to censor or restrict their content. Some teachers, like Sam, a high school science teacher, indicated that “there might be some [restrictions], but if there are, I don’t know about them, and I’m teaching. I’ve been given autonomy over the curriculum that I choose.” One reason teachers in this category gave was that their subject was not touched by restrictive policies. For instance, Kate, a middle school teacher, described how in “math, like we don’t interact with read-alouds a lot, [but] I don’t know if English is affected.” In other words, while Katie did not feel that restrictive policies affected her or her classroom, she left open the possibility they could if she were teaching another subject.

In contrast, there were teachers in our sample who recognized that there were no restrictions in their district, but they also described pressure to act as though they did. Teachers in this category pointed directly to concerns stemming from how parents reacted to difficult moments in class. In one case, Savanna, a high school social science teacher, described a discussion that followed a historical example of racial exclusion:

A misstep would be a parent thinking I’m, like, trying to indoctrinate their kid when I’m not. It’s like, I’m pretty liberal, but I don’t want a conservative kid to feel uncomfortable in my class, like so [describes teaching about history]. . . . And then in the course of that, at one point when we were discussing the article, I mentioned [a] comment my own Asian dad had made to my Black friend that was like, a microaggression. And kids started talking about how their relatives had maybe been kind of racist. And I got a call from my boss who said, like, “There’s an angry parent who says you’re asking kids to out their parents as racist.”

Although Savannah’s intent was to understand a historical example through a modern lens, the student discussion removed that context. Then, a student who was uncomfortable with the classroom discussion went home and told their parent who called the principal. The parent then reported Savannah’s behavior as negatively affecting their child, resulting in Savannah having to think about her teaching errors as having an out-sized effect, and a need for her to shift discussion content.

While most teachers referred to parents complaining about or reporting teachers, teachers also noted bigger parent reactions as well. Some of these parent actions attempted to directly shape school or district-wide content, while some attempted to mobilize more of the (parent) community. Kay, a physical education teacher at a high school described how parents’ reactions could be more visible to the larger community:

So the town that I work in, we have a lot of conservative parents. So, like, last year there was a whole situation with, like, book bans. There was, like, a bunch of situations last year where, like, parents got involved, and like started bringing it up to like, the board and like posting on [social media].

Fear of negative parent backlash was also seen as a reason that led to teachers describing shifting approaches to ward off with negative reactions to inclusive content. For instance, Savannah, a high school social studies teacher gave an example of how a parent—reacting to a teacher’s lesson—wrote to the superintendent and the entire school board, rather than the teacher. In response to this and other instances, the teacher did not fully edit her curriculum, but thought more on how to include different types of information, and also carried pressure to do even more to change her teaching practice:

I probably should edit my lesson plans more to include both sides or both view-points. So I think it affects my classroom interactions more okay, and it affects what I say, because sometimes I’ll—I’ll just explicitly be like, I’ll say to the students, I am not telling you how to think. I am just giving you some information.

Importantly, several teachers who shared these concerns did not always change their approach or classroom content in anticipation of negative parent reaction. However, teachers remained conscious of the potential for backlash. In one case, a teacher mentioned potentially getting in “trouble.” Kamala, who teaches high school English language arts, describes how she thinks more about approaching these conversations:

I don’t remember what it was, but it came up that we would not have been able to, like, talk about it, or, like, acknowledge this aspect of identity if we lived in a different place. And kids were, like, shocked. And so we had a conference, just sort of an impromptu, kind of casual conversation about the ways that, you know, politicians try to sort of censor what kids are learning about and what, and trying to say that kids aren’t mature enough to handle certain types of discussions, or it’s inappropriate to talk about identities in this way. I don’t quite remember what the resource was. So like thinking about anticipating those types of questions and having that information, like in the context of a lesson, is something that I would think about. I wouldn’t necessarily like stray from topics because of those types of fears, generally, but I do—I mean—I think I anticipate it. I mean, I think about it sometimes, but I—I don’t—I usually wouldn’t change what I’m doing because of it.

Ultimately, while the majority of teachers in non-restrictive states described that they were neither changing their curricula nor approaches to working with students in anti-democratic ways, teachers’ local political contexts still shaped their experiences. For some, teachers’ local political context included a deep commitment to inclusive and culturally responsive teaching practices, especially for students of color and LGBTQ+ and gender-expansive or non-binary youth. Still others described simply not feeling threatened or pressured to self-censor or change their instructional practices. However, a non-trivial group of teachers in this subsample did report feeling these pressures. Importantly, these teachers were not directly subject to restrictive policies in their districts or schools; rather, these teachers reported self-censoring, changing curricula, or altering their approaches to working with students because of their own sense of their local political climate and fears of how their community, especially parents, may react to or feel about their work. For these teachers, fear of parent complaints or even more organized local politics, led to instances of anticipatory compliance.

Discussion

Overall, our interviews affirm that there is variance in how restrictive policies affect teachers in the classroom, and that teachers’ local contexts shape how these policies are implemented. We argue that there are several key implications that inform how we should understand education policy and politics. These implications are important not just for researchers, but for policymakers and understanding teacher outcomes.

First, our findings point to the importance of understanding parental involvement in education politics, and how this involvement subsequently shapes education policy. Many of the teachers who were either pushed to shift—or preemptively shifted—classroom policy did so directly because of parental involvement or fear of parental involvement. Teachers described worrying about parents going directly to administrators or school boards with their concerns—bypassing the teachers as a connecting point with schools and, in some cases, directly politicizing what happens in the classroom with increasingly partisan education beliefs (Bertrand et al., 2024; Collins, 2024) and accountability structures of elected officials (Bonilla, 2025). Thus, these findings contribute to other accounts that show that parents are playing an increasingly important and central role in creating and shaping education policies (Pappano, 2024).

Importantly, this understanding also suggests further evidence that parents are directly acting as policy agents in the implementation of education policies. This has been demonstrated in other domains, including school choice (Cowhy, Gordon, & de la Torre, 2024; Saltmarsh, 2024), two-way immersion, bilingual education programs (Dorner, 2012), and special education (Cowhy, Mulroy, & Bonilla, 2024). Yet, prior research has focused on policies where parents’ roles are explicit—for example, parents or caregivers make enrollment decisions for their children or are mandated members of children’s special education teams. Instead, our findings indicate that parents can take the role of policy agents in enforcing and introducing restrictive education policies. Teachers in our study described parents acting in ways to shift what and how material is taught—decisions and policies that do not just affect a parent’s child but all children in a classroom, school, or district (Mahmoud v. Taylor, 2025; Shaw et al., 2025). Ultimately, this suggests a slightly different, but instrumental role in how parents can act as policy agents to enforce or create policy and shape education practices (Cowhy, Mulroy, & Bonilla, 2024).

Further, future work should also consider the composition (who), context (why), and mechanisms (how) of parent movements. While we cannot conclusively say, our findings suggest that a strong and organized parent movement may not be required to induce instructional changes in the face of strong national pushback. In our study, participants shared that they sometimes made changes to their teaching practice out of fear of one parent or even the imagined possibility a parental response. As a result, a fringe group of parents with extreme views appears to have the potential to influence education policy and implementation in schools—and not just for their children, but even for those with differing views of education or politics. In this sample, those politics leaned primarily conservative. As a result, teachers reported concerns or fears about teaching too much about race or sexual diversity. That said, it is important to note that while teachers expressed fears about negative responses to teaching about diversity, teachers in our study did not express concerns about their job security or parent responses as a result of not teaching about diversity. Finally on this issue, the ways in which parents organize and penalize teachers is also worth further investigation. As teachers in our sample mentioned, social media is an important platform through which teachers are “named and shamed.” Thus, continued exploration of which parents are mobilizing, including potential variation of school district size and location, and how parents are mobilizing—including the mediums or platforms and the discursive tactics used—is an important avenue to better understand these movements (Morel, 2021).

Second, and following from the first implication, our findings suggest the importance of bottom-up movements in understanding education reform and what this means for reducing inequality within education. Work on education policy highlights both changes from the federal and state levels, focusing largely on institutional structures and elite actors to push forth changes. For example, research on education federalism (c.f. Manna, 2006b; Manna & McGuinn, 2013) tends to focus on the interplay between state and federal levels of government, largely ignoring the role of local politics. However, these results underline the results of others who demonstrate how local control has long been central to education policy in the United States (Manna, 2006b), and demonstrate pathways through which scholars of both education (e.g., Houston, 2025) and federalism (e.g., Grumbach, 2022) understand the changing scope of education politics. This is of particular importance as the far right has created templates for small, localized movements (of parents) to succeed and drive policy changes state to state (Pappano, 2024; Wilken, 2025).

Moreover, the existing scholarship on (education) federalism and some histories of federal education policies (Cohen & Moffitt, 2010; Moffitt & Cohen, 2015) have tended to argue that a strong federal government can protect oppressed populations and safeguard their civil rights to and within education. Our findings suggest that local policies and politics—which can include an individual or small group of fringe parents—can shape official district- or school-level policies (e.g., book bans, gender inclusive bathrooms) or de facto policies, including whether and how teachers self-censor, encourage or shut-down classroom debates and discussions, or build honest and meaningful relationships with young people. Teachers’ actions based on their understanding of local policies then shape what state policies are and become. Thus, within education, federalism research should recognize and further explore the importance of the local context, including school boards and democratic governance (e.g., Arnzen & Jacobsen, this issue; Bridgeforth et al., this issue), but also teachers’ sense of parental support or opposition to various policies.

Finally, our findings have important implications for how we understand the role of teachers as educators and experts of classroom teaching in their own right. While some teachers felt threatened by parents, others felt supported. Sometimes this was because teachers and parents had aligned values, but other times this was because teachers had cultivated relationships and trust with their families. This suggests that parental relationships—developing a sense of shared mission and commitment to children, even if parents and educators do not agree on all things—might be a protective and proactive action for educators. In addition, while we found that teachers’ local political contexts, especially teachers’ perceptions of parents’ politics and values, shaped the restrictions teachers experienced, teachers also shared that their school and district leaders mattered. Some teachers received explicit guidance about restrictive policies, while others did not, including teachers in states and districts with restrictions, Moreover, if and when a parent complained, they often did so by going to a teacher’s principal. Collectively, these findings suggest that administrators play a critical role for whether and how teachers change their instruction. As reformers seek to change and limit what counts as “core” teaching practices to those that can be measured by market-driven accountability approaches, it is imperative to understand that what “counts” is a political project, not just a philosophical or pedagogical one (Philip et al., 2019).

In another vein, as education policy continues to be shaped from the ground up, it is also important to consider implications for what this means for teacher authority and expertise. Although teachers have always been subject to external pushes for classroom content, research has often focused on top-down pushes, as in the case of how increased emphasis on testing has shifted instruction practices (Diamond, 2007; Diamond & Spillane, 2004) as well as teacher stress (Kraft & Lyon, 2024) and demoralization (Sonu, 2012). While top-down reforms are often initiated by people with a long-term stake in education, however, bottom-up reforms tend to be pushed by those whose connection to education may only be their children in school—and guided by personal beliefs. Because parents have a much closer relationship with schools, parents can pose direct accountability for teacher behavior compared to top-down pushes for reform. As a result, teachers may be less likely to feel freedom or be physically blocked from using their expertise to develop classroom content and engage with their students.

The teachers we interviewed described how bottom-up accountability affected their practice, although in this study we are unable to engage how this ultimately affects students, student outcomes, or classroom climate. Still, our findings may be particularly troubling if the result is that culturally sustaining material is removed from classrooms—material that has shown to motivate and engage students, especially from historically excluded communities (Ladson-Billings, 1995a, 1995b; Souto-Manning, 2009). Removing content and opportunities for students to find relevance in material and build connections to their teachers would be damaging for many students and place an uneven burden on historically excluded students (Valenzuela, 2010). In addition, our findings of teachers’ reports of changes to their instruction and approaches to working with students also raise questions about the kinds of learning opportunities students have to engage with, content that will help them question and solidify their values and beliefs, encounter diverse views, engage in debate, and learn to respectfully disagree—skills critical for becoming engaged citizens (Labaree, 1997; Levinson, 2010; Marshall, this issue). Future research should continue to investigate how and under what conditions teachers are changing their practice, and how restrictive policies are affecting both teachers and students.

Conclusion

Through this paper, we examined how the recent waves of restrictive education policies have been implemented—and, in particular, the variation in implementation that has occurred in the classroom as a result of these policies. As Woo et al. (2024) indicated, restrictive policies have a broader effect than simply a binary determination of whether or not a district has one enacted. Thus, we examined how local politics produces differences in how teachers conceive restrictive policy in changing behavior in their classroom and with their students. Overall, we find that while state politics did restrict teacher behavior in the classroom, local political context affected how and whether teachers changed curricula or approaches to teaching and working with students. While prior research has largely considered a teacher’s local political context to be their school board politics and/or political ideology, we also found that teachers’ understanding of their parents’ political views—including perceptions of parents’ commitments or opposition to racial, gender, and LGBTQ+ equity and inclusion—affected teachers’ experiences of restrictive policies and the decisions they made as a result.

In this paper we describe how teachers’ local political context, namely the political context outside of their school, shaped their experiences with restrictive policies. Future research should attend to how teachers’ school and district organizations affected how they understood their local restrictive policy environment, including the absence of any policies. This research could consider how teachers’ daily interactions with colleagues, students, and superiors shape their understanding of what and how their daily work with students could or should change—including whether, how, and under what conditions teachers engage in self-censorship, resist anti-democratic restrictive policies, or work to promote the inclusion of all students in their classrooms and school communities. We believe this work will be vital in the years to come.

In addition, future research should more directly explore how parents can act to introduce and enforce education policy. Just as importantly however, researchers must consider how parent identity plays a role in the actions parents take—whether to push for restrictions in teaching identity or to push for more inclusive content. As Marshall (this issue) suggests, pushes for restrictions typically stem from White parents, while Black parents tend to push for more inclusive teaching. Further, these movements may not be symmetric in their actions or goals (Grossman & Hopkins, 2016; Lelkes & Sniderman, 2016). These investigations should also consider the role of other local and community stakeholders, including community members and school alumni, and the role of district- and school-administrators in mediating or moderating the impacts of the local political context, especially the threats or support that teachers feel from parents regarding their work with students.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

First, we would like to thank teachers who participated in this research and trusted us with their experiences navigating education politics and policies. At Northwestern University, we would like to thank Phoebe Lin, Caroline Roddey, and Vishal Jain for their research assistance. We also would like to thank Jim Spillane, Cynthia Coburn, and Quinn Mulroy for feedback at various stages of the project. Finally, we wish to thank the editors and the participants in the special issue conference for their feedback, all of which greatly improved the manuscript.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This project was supported by a Provost Grant, The Institute for Policy Research, and the School of Education and Social Policy at Northwestern University. Cowhy received support from the University of Arkansas College of Education and Health Professions over the course of this project.

ORCID iDs

Tabitha Bonilla

Jennifer R. Cowhy

Notes

Authors

TABITHA BONILLA is Associate Professor of Human Development and Social Policy and Political Science, and Faculty Fellow at the Institute for Policy Research, Northwestern University. Email: tabitha.bonilla@northwestern.edu; Address: 2120 Campus Drive, Evanston, IL 60202; Phone: (847) 491-3741. Her research investigates how interpretations of policy and social movements lead to differences in political behavior, decision-making, resource allocation and policy implementation.

JENNIFER R. COWHY is Assistant Professor of Educational Leadership in the Department of Counseling, Leadership, and Research Methods in the College of Education and Health Professions at the University of Arkansas. Email: jcowhy@uark.edu; Address: 751 W Maple Street, Fayetteville, AR 72701; Phone: (479)-575-2417. Her research focuses on how organizational and political conditions, parents, and leaders impact the implementation of educational policies, especially those that target our most marginalized young people, including students with disabilities.

References

Abramowitz

A. I.

(2022). The polarized American electorate: The rise of partisan-ideological consistency and its consequences. Political Science Quarterly, 137(4), 645–674. https://doi.org/10.1002/polq.13388

Ahn

Mutz

D. C.

(2023). The effects of polarized evaluations on political participation: Does hating the other side motivate voters? Public Opinion Quarterly, 87(2), 243–266. https://doi.org/10.1093/poq/nfad012

Alexander

T. N.

Clark

L. B.

Flores-Ganley

Harris

Kohli

McLelland

Moody

Powell

Smith

Zatz

(2024). CRT forward tracking project. UCLA School of Law Critical Race Studies Program. Retrieved February 12, 2024, from www.crtforward.law.ucla.edu. https://law.ucla.edu/academics/centers/critical-race-studies/ucla-law-crt-forward-tracking-project

Apple

M. W.

(2001). Markets, standards, teaching, and teacher education. Journal of Teacher Education, 52(3), 182–196. https://doi.org/10.1177/0022487101052003002

Berkman

M. B.

Plutzer

(2011). Local autonomy versus state constraints: Balancing evolution and creationism in us high schools. Publius: The Journal of Federalism, 41(4), 610–635. https://doi.org/10.1093/publius/pjr008

Berkshire

J. C.

Schneider

(2024). The education wars: A citizen’s guide and defense manual. The New Press.

Bertrand

A. R.

Lyon

M. A.

Jacobsen

(2024). Narrative spillover: A narrative policy framework analysis of critical race theory discourse at multiple levels. Policy Studies Journal, 52(2), 391–423. https://doi.org/10.1111/psj.12523

Black

D. W.

(2020). Schoolhouse burning: Public education and the assault on american democracy. Hachette UK.

Blaushild

Blazquez

McGee

McGee-Tekula

(2024). Balancing teachers’ needs in times of crisis: Investigating how computer science instructional coaches and teachers navigated remote professional development during COVID-19. Computer Science Education, 35(1), 1–33. https://doi.org/10.1080/08993408.2024.2313913

10.

Bolsen

Druckman

J. N.

Cook

F. L.

(2014). The influence of partisan motivated reasoning on public opinion. Political Behavior, 36, 235–262. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11109-013-9238-0

11.

Bonilla

(2025). The influence of partisanship on assessments of promise fulfillment and accountability. American Political Science Review, 119 (2), 966–984. https://doi.org/10.1017/s0003055424000807

12.

Bonilla

Mackevicius

Nelsen

M. D.

Thurston

(2025). Divisive concepts in divisive contexts: Policy feedback and education policy in the U.S. states [Paper presentation]. Annual Conference of American Political Science Association, Vancouver, Canada.

13.

Bowman

K. L.

(2017). The failure of education federalism. University of Michigan Journal of Legal Reform, 51, 1–53.https://repository.law.umich.edu/mjlr/vol51/iss1/1

14.

Cabral

Parks

Wells

A. S.

(2024). “It’s just good teaching”: Black educators respond to the so-called ”anti-critical race theory” backlash in K-12 schools. Thresholds in Education, 47(1), 53–68. https://academyforeducationalstudies.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/cabral-parks-wells-final.pdf

15.

Coburn

C. E.

(2001). Collective sensemaking about reading: How teachers mediate reading policy in their professional communities. Educational Evaluation and Policy Analysis, 23(2), 145–170. https://doi.org/10.3102/01623737023002145

16.

Coburn

C. E.

(2005). Shaping teacher sensemaking: School leaders and the enactment of reading policy. Educational Policy, 19(3), 476–509. http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0895904805276143

17.

Coburn

C. E.

Hill

H. C.

Spillane

J. P.

(2016). Alignment and accountability in policy design and implementation: The common core state standards and implementation research. Educational Researcher, 45(4), 243-251. https://doi.org/10.3102/0013189X16651080

18.

Coburn

C. E.

Pearson

P. D.

Woulfin

(2011). Reading policy in the era of accountability. In Kamil

M. L.

Pearson

P. D.

Moje

E. B.

Afflerbach

(Eds.), Handbook of Reading Research, IV, 561–593. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203840412.ch24

19.

Coburn

C. E.

Stein

M. K.

(2006). Communities of practice theory and the role of teacher professional community in policy implementation. New Directions in Education Policy Implementation: Confronting Complexity, 63, 65–72. https://doi.org/10.2307/jj.18254222.5

20.

Cohen

D. K.

Moffitt

S. L.

(2010). The ordeal of equality: Did federal regulation fix the schools? Harvard University Press.

21.

Collins

J. E.

(2024). They only hate the term: Policy branding and the politics of critical race theory. Journal of Public Policy, 44(4), 826–846. https://doi.org/10.1017/s0143814x24000151

22.

Cowen

(2024). The privateers: How billionaires created a culture war and sold school vouchers. Harvard Education Press.

23.

Cowhy

J. R.

Gordon

M. F.

de la Torre

(2024). Forced to choose: Lessons learned from families of students within special education. Educational Policy, 38(6), 1282–1311. https://doi.org/10.1177/08959048231198814

24.

Cowhy

J. R.

Mulroy

Bonilla

(2024). Reconceptualizing parents as policy agents within special education. Educational Researcher, 53(5), 319–325. https://doi.org/10.3102/0013189x241238679

25.

Cunningham

(2023). To CRT or not to CRT: The impact of anti-CRT legislation on K–12 teaching and learning. Journal of the Afro-American Historical & Genealogical Society, 95(1), 35–41.

26.

Diamond

J. B.

(2007). Where the rubber meets the road: Rethinking the connection between high-stakes testing policy and classroom instruction. Sociology of Education, 80(4), 285–313. https://doi.org/10.1177/003804070708000401

27.

Diamond

J. B.

Spillane

J. P.

(2004). High-stakes accountability in urban elementary schools: Challenging or reproducing inequality? Teachers College Record, 106(6), 1145–1176. https://doi.org/10.1177/016146810410600605

28.

Doan

Steiner

E. D.

Woo

Pandey

(2023). State of the American teacher survey. RAND Corporation. https://www.rand.org/pubs/research_reports/RRA1108-7.html

29.

Donovan

Kellstedt

P. M.

Key

E. M.

Lebo

M. J.

(2020). Motivated reasoning, public opinion, and presidential approval. Political Behavior, 42, 1201–1221. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11109-019-09539-8

30.

Dorner

L. M.

(2012). The life course and sense-making: Immigrant families’ journeys toward understanding educational policies and choosing bilingual programs. American Educational Research Journal, 49(3), 461–486. https://doi.org/10.3102/0002831211415089

31.

Druckman

J. N.

Klar

Krupnikov

Levendusky

Ryan

J. B.

(2021). How affective polarization shapes Americans’ political beliefs: A study of response to the covid-19 pandemic. Journal of Experimental Political Science, 8(3), 223–234. https://doi.org/10.1017/xps.2020.28

32.

Ellis

Maguire

Trippestad

T. A.

Liu

Yang

Zeichner

(2016). Teaching other people’s children, elsewhere, for a while: The rhetoric of a travelling educational reform. Journal of Education Policy, 31(1), 60–80. https://doi.org/10.1080/02680939.2015.1066871

33.

Ellis

Orchard

(2014). Transforming teacher education: Reconfiguring academic work. Bloomsbury.

34.

Glaser

Strauss

(2017). Discovery of grounded theory: Strategies for qualitative research. Routledge.

35.

Goldstein

(2015a). Quieting the teacher wars: What history reveals about an embattled profession. American Educator, 39(1), 14. https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:154239512

36.

Goldstein

(2015b).The teacher wars: A history of America’s most embattled profession. Vintage.

37.

Goldstein

L. S.

(2008). Kindergarten teachers making “street-level” education policy in the wake of No Child Left Behind. Early Education and Development, 19(3), 448–478. https://doi.org/10.1080/10409280802065387

38.

Gonzalez

Peters

M. L.

Orange

Grigsby

(2017). The influence of high-stakes testing on teacher self-efficacy and job-related stress. Cambridge Journal of Education, 47(4), 513–531. https://doi.org/10.1080/0305764x.2016.1214237

39.

Grossman

Hopkins

(2016). Asymmetric politics: Ideological republicans and group interest democrats. Oxford University Press.

40.

Grumbach

(2018). From backwaters to major policymakers: Policy polarization in the states, 1970–2014. Perspectives on Politics, 16(2), 416–435. https://doi.org/10.1017/s153759271700425x

41.

Grumbach

(2022). Laboratories against democracy: How national parties transformed state politics. Princeton University Press.

42.

Grumbach

(2023). Laboratories of democratic backsliding. American Political Science Review, 117(3), 967–984. https://doi.org/10.1017/s0003055422000934

43.

Harry

Ocasio-Stoutenburg

(2020). Meeting families where they are: Building equity through advocacy with diverse schools and communities. Disability, Culture, and Equity.

44.

Herlihy

Karger

Pollard

Hill

H. C.

Kraft

M. A.

Williams

Howard

(2014). State and local efforts to investigate the validity and reliability of scores from teacher evaluation systems. Teachers College Record, 116(1), 1–28. https://doi.org/10.1177/016146811411600108

45.

Hertel-Fernandez

(2014). Who passes business’s “model bills”? policy capacity and corporate influence in us state politics. Perspectives on Politics, 12(3), 582–602. https://doi.org/10.1017/s1537592714001601

46.

Hetherington

M. J.

(2008). Turned off or turned on? how polarization affects political engagement. Red and Blue Nation, 2, 1–33.

47.

Houston

D. M.

(2025). New places, new players, a new politics of education. Annenberg Edchange Ed Working Papers. https://edworkingpapers.com/ai25-1182

48.

Ingersoll

R. M.

(2009). Who controls teachers’ work?: Power and accountability in America’s schools. Harvard University Press.

49.

Jacob

B. A.

(2005). Accountability, incentives and behavior: The impact of high-stakes testing in the Chicago public schools. Journal of public Economics, 89(5–6), 761–796. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jpubeco.2004.08.004

50.

Jiang

J. Y.

Sporte

S. E.

Luppescu

(2015). Teacher perspectives on evaluation reform: Chicago’s reach students. Educational Researcher, 44(2), 105–116. https://doi.org/10.3102/0013189x15575517

51.

Kane

T. J.

Staiger

D. O.

(2012). Gathering feedback for teaching: Combining high- quality observations with student surveys and achievement gains. research paper. met project. Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.

52.

Kaul

(2025). The logics of teaching: How institutionalized ideas about teaching shape teachers’ professional identities. Sociology of Education. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/10.1177/00380407251359628

53.

Kingzette

Druckman

J. N.

Klar

Krupnikov

Levendusky

Ryan

J. B.

(2021). How affective polarization undermines support for democratic norms. Public Opinion Quarterly, 85(2), 663–677. https://doi.org/10.1093/poq/nfab029

54.

Kraft

M. A.

Gilmour

A. F.

(2017). Revisiting the widget effect: Teacher evaluation reforms and the distribution of teacher effectiveness. Educational Researcher, 46(5), 234–249. https://doi.org/10.3102/0013189x17718797

55.

Kraft

M. A.

Lyon

M. A.

(2024). The rise and fall of the teaching profession: Prestige, interest, preparation, and satisfaction over the last half century. American Educational Research Journal, 61(6), 1192–1236. https://doi.org/10.3102/00028312241276856

56.

Kubin

Von Sikorski

(2021). The role of (social) media in political polarization: A systematic review. Annals of the International Communication Association, 45(3), 188–206. https://doi.org/10.1080/23808985.2021.1976070

57.

Labaree

D. F.

(1997). Public goods, private goods: The American struggle over educational goals. American Educational Research Journal, 34(1), 39–81. https://doi.org/10.2307/1163342

58.

Ladson-Billings

(1995a). But that’s just good teaching! the case for culturally relevant pedagogy. Theory into Practice, 34(3), 159–165. https://doi.org/10.1080/00405849509543675

59.

Ladson-Billings

(1995b). Toward a theory of culturally relevant pedagogy. American Educational Research Journal, 32(3), 465–491. https://doi.org/10.3102/00028312032003465

60.

Lareau

(2021). Listening to people: A practical guide to interviewing, participant observation, data analysis, and writing it all up. University of Chicago Press.

61.

Lelkes

Sniderman

P. M.

(2016). The ideological asymmetry of the American party system. British Journal of Political Science, 46(4), 825–844. https://doi.org/10.1017/s0007123414000404

62.

Levinson

(2010). The civic empowerment gap: Defining the problem and locating solutions. In Sherrod

Torney-Purta

Flanagan

C. A.

(Eds.), The civic empowerment gap: Defining the problem and locating solutions. in handbook of research on civic engagement. John Wiley &Sons.

63.

Levinson

(2015). Moral injury and the ethics of educational injustice. Harvard Educational Review, 85(2), 203–228. https://doi.org/10.17763/0017-8055.85.2.203

64.

Lipsky

(2010).Street-level bureaucracy: Dilemmas of the individual in public service. Russell Sage Foundation.

65.

Mahmoud v. Taylor, 606 US 1-65 (2025). https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/24pdf/24-2974f14.pdf

66.

Manna

(2006a). Control, persuasion, and educational accountability: Implementing the No Child Left Behind Act. Educational Policy, 20(3), 471–494. https://doi.org/10.1177/0895904805284055

67.

Manna

(2006b). School’s in: Federalism and the national education agenda. Georgetown University Press.

68.

Manna

McGuinn

(2013). Education governance for the twenty-first century: Overcoming the structural barriers to school reform. Rowman & Littlefield.

69.

Marschall

M. J.

Rigby

Jenkins

(2011). Do state policies constrain local actors? the impact of English only laws on language instruction in public schools. Publius: The Journal of Federalism, 41(4), 586–609. https://doi.org/10.1093/publius/pjr003

70.

Marshall

(in press). Walking a tightrope: Navigating neutrality in teaching about injustice and racism. AERA Open.

71.

McClain

Anderson

Gelles-Watnick

(2024). How Americans navigate politics on TikTok, X, Facebook and Instagram. PEW. https://www.pewresearch.org/internet/2024/06/12/how-americans-navigate-politics-on-tiktok-x-facebook-and-instagram/

72.

McGovern

S. K.

(2011). A new model for states as laboratories for reform: How federalism informs education policy. New York University Law Review, 86, Article 1519.

73.

Miles

M. B.

Huberman

A. M.

(1994). Qualitative data analysis: An expanded sourcebook. SAGE Publications.

74.

Moffitt

S. L.

Cohen

D. K.

(2015). The state of Title I: Developing the capability to support instructional improvement. RSF: The Russell Sage Foundation Journal of the Social Sciences, 1(3), 187–202. https://doi.org/10.7758/rsf.2015.1.3.10

75.

Morel

R. P.

(2021). Strange frame fellows: The evolution of discursive framing in the opt-out testing movement. Teachers College Record, 123(5), 1–32. https://doi.org/10.1177/016146812112300507

76.

Pappano

(2024). School moms: Parent activism, partisan politics, and the battle for public education. Beacon Press.

77.

Patton

M. Q.

(2002). Qualitative research and evaluation methods (Vol. 3). Sage.

78.

Philip

T. M.

Souto-Manning

Anderson

Horn

Carter

Andrews

Stillman

Varghese

(2019). Making justice peripheral by constructing practice as “core”: How the increasing prominence of core practices challenges teacher education. Journal of Teacher Education, 70(3), 251–264. https://doi.org/10.1177/0022487118798324

79.

Polikoff

M. S.

Porter

A. C.

(2014). Instructional alignment as a measure of teaching quality. Educational Evaluation and Policy Analysis, 36(4), 399–416. https://doi.org/10.3102/0162373714531851

80.

Ravitch

(2010, 2016). The death and life of the great American school system: How testing and choice are undermining education. Basic Books.

81.

Restler

(2017). Re-visualizing care: Teachers’ invisible labor in neoliberal times. City University of New York.

82.

Restler

(2020). Rubbing the room: Tactile epistemologies of teacher work. Reconceptualizing Educational Research Methodology, 11(2), Article 3. https://doi.org/10.7577/rerm.4113

83.

Robinson

K. J.

(2014). Disrupting education federalism. Washington University Law Review, 92, 959–1018.

84.

Saeki

Segool

Pendergast

von der Embse

(2018). The influence of test-based accountability policies on early elementary teachers: School climate, environmental stress, and teacher stress. Psychology in the Schools, 55(4), 391–403. https://doi.org/10.1002/pits.22112

85.

Saltmarsh

J. E.

(2024). Ngo navigators, information support, and parental assistance with pk-12 school decisions. Journal of School Choice, 19(3), 1–26. https://doi.org/10.1080/15582159.2024.2417119

86.

Santoro

D. A.

(2011). Good teaching in difficult times: Demoralization in the pursuit of good work. American Journal of Education, 118(1), 1–23. https://doi.org/10.1086/662010

87.

Santoro

D. A.

(2018). Is it burnout? or demoralization. Educational Leadership, 75(9), 10–15. https://www.ascd.org/el/articles/is-it-burnout-or-demoralization

88.

Sartain

Morris

W. T.

(2024). Are teachers satisfied with their evaluations? the importance of teaching context and trends over time. AERA Open, 10, 1–16. https://doi.org/10.1177/23328584231221539

89.

Schneider

Berkshire

(2020). A wolf at the schoolhouse door: The dismantling of public education and the future of school. The New Press.

90.

Schwartz

(2021, June). Map: Where critical race theory is under attack. Education Week. https://www.edweek.org/policy-politics/map-where -critical-race-theory-is-under-attack/2021/06

91.

Shaw

Murray

Litman

(2025). Scotus strengthens conservative war on education. Strict Scrutiny.

92.

Small

M. L.

Calarco

J. M.

(2022). Qualitative literacy: A guide to evaluating ethnographic and interview research. University of California Press.

93.

Snyder

J. W.

Reckhow

(2018). The shifting landscape of education governance. In Bowman

(Ed.), The Oxford handbook of education law (pp. 101–1115). Oxford University Press.

94.

Sonu

(2012). Illusions of compliance: Performing the public and hidden transcripts of social justice education in neoliberal times. Curriculum Inquiry, 42(2), 240–259. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-873x.2012.00592.x

95.

Souto-Manning

(2009). Negotiating culturally responsive pedagogy through multicultural children’s literature: Towards critical democratic literacy practices in a first grade classroom. Journal of Early Childhood Literacy, 9(1), 50–74. https://doi.org/10.1177/1468798408101105

96.

Spillane

J. P.

Reiser

B. J.

Reimer

(2002). Policy implementation and cognition: Reframing and refocusing implementation research. Review of Educational Research, 72(3), 387–431. https://doi.org/10.3102/00346543072003387

97.

Steinberg

M. P.

Donaldson

M. L.

(2016). The new educational accountability: Under- standing the landscape of teacher evaluation in the post-nclb era. Education Finance and Policy, 113, 340–359. https://doi.org/10.1162/edfp_a_00186

98.

Tyack

D. B.

Cuban

(1995). Tinkering toward utopia: A century of public school reform. Harvard University Press.

99.

Valenzuela

(2010). Subtractive schooling: US-Mexican youth and the politics of caring. Suny Press.

100.

Von der Embse

N. P.

Pendergast

L. L.

Segool

Saeki

Ryan

. (2016). The influence of test-based accountability policies on school climate and teacher stress across four states. Teaching and Teacher Education, 59, 492–502. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tate.2016.07.013

101.

Wagner

Meyer

T. M.

(2023). How do voters form perceptions of party positions? British Journal of Political Science, 53(4), 1351–1362. https://doi.org/10.1017/s0007123422000746

102.

Weatherly

Lipsky

(1977). Street-level bureaucrats and institutional innovation: Implementing special-education reform. Harvard Educational Review, 47, 171–197. https://doi.org/10.17763/haer.47.2.v870r1v16786270x

103.

Westfall

Van Boven

Chambers

J. R.

Judd

C. M.

(2015). Perceiving political polarization in the United States: Party identity strength and attitude extremity exacerbate the perceived partisan divide. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 10(2), 145–158. https://doi.org/10.1177/1745691615569849

104.

White

B. R.

Cowhy

Stevens

W. D.

Sporte

S. E.

(2012). Designing and implementing the next generation of teacher evaluation systems lessons learned from case studies in five Illinois districts. University of Chicago Consortium on School Research.

105.

Wilken

(2025). Policy processes in the parental rights in education act. The Educational Review, 9(3), 310–320.

106.

Wong

K. K.

(2015). Federal esea waivers as reform leverage: Politics and variation in state implementation. Publius: The Journal of Federalism, 45(3), 405–426. https://doi.org/10.1093/publius/pjv020

107.

Woo

Diliberti

M. K.

Steiner

E. D.

(2024). Policies restricting teaching about race and gender spill over into other states and localities: Findings from the 2023 state of the American teacher survey. RAND Corporation. https://doi.org/10.7249/RRA1108-10

108.

Woo

Lee

Tuma

A. P.

Kaufman

J. H.

Lawrence

R. A.

Reed

(2023). Walking on eggshells? Teachers’ responses to classroom limitations on race- or gender- related topics: Findings from the 2022 American instructional resources survey. RAND Corporation. https://doi.org/10.7249/RRA134-16