MASON CITY, Iowa -- The Atlanta Braves are part of this year's World Series, and their name, imagery and chant face growing backlash to be replaced with something not related to Indigenous culture, as some other pro-teams have done.

It's not just a pro-sports issue. In Iowa, there are new efforts to change mascot names in public schools.

In Mason City, the school board is discussing whether the high school's "Mohawk" nickname should be discontinued.

Le Anne Clausen de Montes, coordinator of the Iowa Change the Name Coalition and a mother of Indigenous children in the district, said while some say it is part of school tradition, it is not a reason to keep using it.

"You think about the tradition of tens of thousands of years of Indigenous peoples in North America or elsewhere, and, you know, 95 or 100 years pales in comparison," de Montes asserted.

Coinciding with the local effort is a letter from the Meskwaki Nation, which calls upon 66 schools in Iowa to retire Native-themed mascots.

Aside from arguments about school traditions, others reluctant to change these names contend they were adopted to honor Indigenous people. But groups such as the American Civil Liberties Union countered all the nicknames do is perpetuate stereotypes.

De Montes acknowledged in many cases, it is likely the nicknames were first decided upon without the intention of creating harm. She argued it speaks to a broader lack of awareness when it comes to other cultures.

"For a lot of folks, it's just simply not having good information, not knowing how to ask the questions about the use of Native American names," de Montes explained.

She feels there is less hostility toward the movement to retire these names, citing the racial reckoning from the past year. And at the pro level, franchises such as the Major League Baseball team in Cleveland are making changes. In Iowa, the Marion School District recently retired its "Indians" nickname.

Over the weekend, Hispanic Heritage Month got underway. In Minnesota, people are recognizing the diversity within these populations, as well as leadership opportunities.

Becky Valencia, operations manager of Communities Organizing Latino Power and Action (COPAL) said not all of Minnesota's Latino residents are from Mexico, as is often assumed.

Many have connections to places like Ecuador and have different needs. As they establish roots here, national polls show Latinos have a growing distrust of government.

However, Valencia noted that young adults are increasingly interested in fostering a better relationship between elected leaders and community members.

"A lot of the times it's been very rewarding to see that in our community, organizers continue to plant that seed," said Valencia. "And so, we have seen a lot more people be active and actually searching for opportunities to be more involved."

As for weaving in culture, entrepreneurship is one avenue. Minnesota is now home to more than 12,000 Latino-owned businesses.

Valencia said several organizations help these business owners overcome obstacles in expanding their reach.

She said younger generations want to keep alive their distinct heritage and traditions, and access to resources is a big part of that.

Valencia said fostering more civic engagement is especially important in an election year. She said Latinos have pressing needs that resonate with the rest of Minnesota.

"There's this huge gap between healthcare and what's accessible," said Valencia. "That's an area for sure that we've heard a lot of communication, which I think it's not only for the Latino community, Latina community, but also for other communities in general."

According to Census data from Minnesota Compass, nearly 370,000 people of Latino descent call Minnesota home. This population increased 38% between 2010 and 2020.

In addition to Mexicans and Ecuadorians, the largest Latino cultural groups in the state are Salvadorans, Guatemalans, and Colombians.

It is back-to-school season and for 11 students in Sheridan County, Wyoming, it means returning to a one-room schoolhouse.

The Slack School was built in the 1880s and is Sheridan County's last operational one-room schoolhouse. Inside, there are historical photos on one wall, a chalkboard, a piano for students to take weekly lessons and a propane furnace, a 1966 upgrade from an old coal-burning stove.

Like in any other classroom, iPads and Chromebooks modernize the space.

Ashlee Gorham, an elementary teacher at the Slack School, said the technology also helps her instruct four different grade levels in one day.

"We're on a big rotation all day long and trying to hit all those grade levels and all those different learning targets to the best of our ability," Gorham explained.

Gorham teaches kindergarten through fourth grade at the Slack School, which is part of Sheridan County School District No. 1. Students then move to the Tongue River School system in fifth grade.

Gorham pointed out a paraprofessional works with small groups too, often in the neighboring teacherage, where teachers historically lived. The kids must be able to learn independently but Gorham said the family-like setting means they help each other out, too.

"The older kids take the little ones under their wing and they all work to do their best," Gorham observed. "These kids, they come from ranch homes and they have great work ethic, they have great morals. It's just very easy to be their teacher."

The Slack School is one of 18 across the state with three rooms or fewer.


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The latest report from the EveryLibrary Institute showed the Republican Party's agenda, as outlined in the document known as Project 2025, takes aim at places where students can read, discover and explore. Conservatives call it a matter of accountability.

In Iowa, there are at least 540 public libraries, fourth-highest in the nation. More than 400 are among the scant cultural resources in towns with populations of less than 2,500.

Peter Bromberg, associate director of the institute, said Project 2025, a massive effort to reclassify civil service workers as political appointees, would take direct aim at libraries and the people who work there.

"You know, librarians and teachers are highly trusted and well-known and well-loved in their communities," Bromberg pointed out. "It's really kind of a shocking and extreme attempt to twist our democratic society and our institutions into more of a totalitarian theocracy."

Backers of Project 2025 argued librarians need to be held accountable for what is on their shelves. A bill in Alabama which would have criminalized librarians for allowing content defined as "obscene" narrowly missed becoming law this year. A similar measure has already been filed for next session.

Bromberg pointed out Project 2025 promotes book bans, restricts LGBTQ+ content and undermines the intellectual freedom and inclusivity libraries are known for. He believes it would ultimately threaten a student's educational quality and could presage the end of libraries serving as open and inclusive spaces for people who want to learn. He cited book bans as an example.

"That's the bad news," Bromberg explained. "The good news is, Americans are increasingly becoming aware of what's happening and organizing. And it doesn't often take very much in terms of organizing and pushback -- on whether it's school boards or county councils -- to get the books back on the shelves."

Project 2025, a Heritage Fund initiative, goes well beyond libraries. It would reshape the federal government and consolidate executive power under the president.