By Aleksandra Appleton for the Chalkbeat Indiana .
Broadcast version by Joe Ulery for Indiana News Service reporting for the Chalkbeat Indiana-Free Press Indiana-Public News Service Collaboration.

In a Ball State classroom on a recent Tuesday, Professor Sheron Fraser-Burgess told her class to brace themselves for the “really controversial” argument from their reading:

“There’s no such thing as reverse ‘-ism.’ Women can be just as prejudiced as men, but can’t be as sexist, because they don’t have the power.”

Then she invited the class to weigh in.

Her students were quick to disagree with that argument and with each other, as well as Fraser-Burgess, who leaned back against a desk and listened.

She said it’s critical to her that her students — potential future teachers — learn about prejudice, discrimination, racism, sexism, and other “isms,” before they step into their own classrooms and assume power over others. That power can turn personal prejudice into an “ism” they perpetuate, she told them.

But some fear a new Indiana law that drastically alters universities’ diversity policies could have a chilling effect on teacher prep classes like Fraser-Burgess’ multicultural education course. The result could be that preservice teachers are less prepared to use best practices, challenge their own assumptions, and work with students who come from a variety of backgrounds through practices like culturally responsive teaching, these critics say.

That’s not the intent of the new law, said Sen. Spencer Deery, a Republican and the architect of the statute, which compels universities to stress “intellectual diversity” alongside cultural diversity. It requires professors to present a variety of viewpoints in their curriculum, and imposes consequences for not doing so, including demotion and denial of tenure.

It also creates a complaint procedure for students and staff to report faculty who bring unrelated politics into the classroom to their universities. To a certain extent, that aspect of the law resembles a public web portal set up by state Attorney General Todd Rokita for parents to submit complaints about how schools address race, gender, and political ideology.

Pushing back on concerns that the law could shrink the pool of future educators, Deery said it could instead encourage students who currently don’t feel welcome on college campuses — namely, conservative students — to enroll.

“If we don’t recognize that some Hoosiers are not going into higher ed because they don’t feel like someone from their background is going to be respected, or they’re going to be exposed only to views of some paradigms, that’s a problem,” Deery said.

What does the new ‘intellectual diversity’ law do?

Universities are currently in the process of implementing the law known as SEA 202, which Gov. Eric Holcomb signed into law in March.

During this year’s legislative session, lawmakers heard hours of testimony in opposition to SEA 202 from faculty and students who said it represented an overreach into university classrooms, and could force professors to teach flawed information.

They drew comparisons to similar laws on the books in Florida targeting diversity, equity, and inclusion programs, and said it could lead to brain drain in the state as faculty leave or decline jobs in Indiana, accept positions elsewhere, and take their grant funding with them.

This could have an outsize effect on faculty of color, who are often tasked with leading diversity initiatives, and already face more complaints from students about what and how they teach, said Russ Skiba, an IU professor who has led opposition to 202.

In teacher training programs, this could create a snowball effect on preservice teachers and their future students, said Alexander Cuenca, an IU professor who has written about the barriers facing teacher candidates of color.

“If students can’t see themselves in the classroom, if we’re scared to mention Black perspectives in social studies, why would they go into teaching social studies?” he said.

But Deery, who spent a decade working at Purdue University, said he wrote the bill after seeing data that conservatives were losing trust in higher education.

A 2023 survey of free speech on Indiana campuses by the state Commission on Higher Education found that 72% of students believed that politically liberal students were free to express their views on campus, compared to 55% who said conservative students could do the same. Overall, 78% of survey respondents said that generally, students are free to express their opinions at their universities.

Deery has also cited data showing that conservative students feel less welcome on campuses than other students think they might feel. This data was part of the free speech survey, but has not been released publicly, Deery said. The commission was not able to make this data available to Chalkbeat by deadline.

Deery said 202 doesn’t prescribe or prohibit specific curriculum, but instead requires that professors present the full spectrum of viewpoints that exist within their discipline.

It’s up to university boards and departments to decide how to implement that — and that could mean some curriculum is cut while curriculum from underrepresented viewpoints is added, he said. When it comes to teaching diversity, Deery said he believes that should include cultural, racial, and ideological diversity.

“It’s not about making students feel comfortable, but feel respected,” he said. “College should make you uncomfortable. But that doesn’t give you license to ignore some perspectives.”

How the law affects teacher preparation

As the discussion of sexism went on in Fraser-Burgess’ class, one student pointed out the growing number of female band directors as a sign of more equality in the industry. Another countered that someone should ask those directors about the sexism they’ve experienced in their careers.

One recalled that a male kindergarten teacher faced distrust from parents as an example of how sexism can affect men.

The discussion zeroed in on the pressure boys and young men face to be stoic and successful. It continued until the final moments of the class.

Fraser-Burgess said she aims to cultivate an environment where students feel heard and know they won’t face retaliation for disagreeing with her.

The objective of her course is to help preservice teachers understand how bias can emerge in education, and how students’ backgrounds may affect their school experience.

What concerns her most about the new law is the reporting mechanism that would allow students who feel uncomfortable confronting these topics to complain about her class to the university.

Under the law, universities would need to establish a procedure allowing students and staff to complain about faculty who have not fostered free inquiry and intellectual diversity, who don’t expose students to a variety of political and ideological frameworks, or who bring politics unrelated to their discipline into the classroom. These complaints would be referred to supervisors and human resources departments for consideration in tenure promotion decisions.

“I’m an African American teacher telling them they need to disavow racism to be a public school teacher. It can come across with much more intensity, it may seem I’m being political or ideological,” she said.

If these complaints chill classroom discussion, it would mean future teachers have less exposure to teaching practices that are good for all students, she said.

“If we’re not fostering an ability to live with others and appreciate how they contribute to our society, to question our own experience as right or the default, we’re weakening our democracy, which is based on difference,” she said.

Deery said colleges already have a number of ways for students to report complaints about professors, and that the reporting mechanism of 202 only standardizes the process. Deery also said he trusts schools to filter out bogus complaints.

But some say the threat of complaints is enough to chill speech. And preservice teachers are learning as much from observing their professors as they are from the course content, said Cuenca, the IU professor.

“They’re in front of me, watching me teach,” Cuenca said. “If it influences the way I am able to speak, it’s going to impact how they’re going to be able to do it.”

What culturally responsive teaching looks like in practice

In recent years, teachers in Indiana and nationwide have reported a hesitancy to approach topics about race and diversity in class amid attempts to ban such lessons.

But teachers say learning culturally responsive teaching — or connecting students’ backgrounds and experiences to the classroom — is still an important tool.

For one, it helps educators build relationships with students and their families, said Cynthia Diaz, a teacher at Enlace Academy, an Indianapolis charter school where more than 80% of families speak a language other than English at home.

For example, when her students read “When Stars are Scattered,” the story of Somali refugees resonated with many of them, Diaz said. But the book also offered an opportunity to invite families to discuss the book and their own stories of immigrating to the U.S., both with their students at home and at a school event.

Having an awareness of their students’ cultures, backgrounds, and experiences also allows teachers to pause and challenge their own understanding, Diaz said.

“It’s the ability to be reflective. When you’re in a silo, you think ‘this is what I was taught, what school was like for me, so this is what school should be like.’” Diaz said. “In my opinion, it should be about what school should look like for the students in front of you.”


Aleksandra Appleton wrote this article for Chalkbeat Indiana.


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By Kyle Smedley for the Ball State Daily News .
Broadcast version by Joe Ulery for Indiana News Service reporting for the Ball State Daily News-Free Press Indiana-Public News Service Collaboration.

No matter the opponent, no matter the location, no matter the time, Keionte Newson kneels and bows his head at the 26-yard line before kickoff of every Ball State University football game. The senior Cardinal linebacker takes a moment to speak to his second cousin Dexter Jones, who died 10 years ago.

While praying, Newson calls on his family members who have died for guidance, looking to Jones and his deceased uncle, Jeremy Grant, specifically as father figures he has never truly had.

Keionte said he has a poor relationship with his true father, Derek, but that's only a piece of the 13-year puzzle he has had to piece together en route to becoming the first in his family to earn a college degree.

Since the age of nine, Keionte's life has been filled with adversity. His mother, Sharmane Grant, was laid off from her job as a caregiver, and Derek left the family for five years.

Keionte had to stop playing youth football so the family could use that money on essentials. Keionte, along with Grant and his siblings, then moved into Section 8 housing. Shortly thereafter, Grant fell into a years-long state of depression.

Keionte lashed out at himself and others, struggling to find an outlet for his pent-up anger.

Despite it all, in Keionte's five years at Ball State - with his family back in Covington, Tennessee - he has thrived more than ever during his 22 years on this Earth.

Now that his time as a Cardinal is over, Keionte said he is finally ready to share his story.

"Regardless if I'm put in the NFL or I get blessed with a great job or something, I just want to change how everybody sees our family," Keionte said.

Financial Insecurity

A conversation between Grant and one of Keionte's aunts still sticks with him more than a decade later. Grant, the household's main provider, had just been fired after working for nearly five years as a caregiver for those with mental illnesses, and she went to the family to discuss their next steps.

"I didn't know what to do," Grant said. "I was doing hair and cleaning doctor's offices ... It wasn't a lot of money, but it would be enough."

Keionte eavesdropped on the conversation and walked into the kitchen. Even as an elementary schooler, he knew money was tight, and he knew playing youth football wasn't free.

Despite his love for the game he had already been playing for five years, Keionte told his mom he would quit football to save the family money. A couple of years later, Keionte's family found a way to get him back involved with football in small, community leagues. He didn't start consistently playing until middle school began.

As soon as he was old enough, Keionte wanted to find work to help bring in money for the family. Grant wouldn't let him, telling Keionte it wasn't his job to provide for the family as a teenager, which drew out even more frustration from Keionte.

While he now realizes his past frustrations may not have been rational, Keionte felt his mother wasn't making the right decisions to put the family in a better financial situation. The arguments escalated enough that Grant asked Keionte to move out, after which he stayed with a friend for about a month before moving in with his newly present father. That didn't last long either, as Keionte cited a lack of effort from Derek as the reason for their still-standing issues.

Keionte moved back in with Grant after less than a year away, remembering how he cried for his mother no matter where he stayed.

"I tried to give her space for a long time, and that probably wasn't the best thing for me to do," Keionte said. "For a long time, I would see her in the morning, and she'd be on the couch, then I'd come back after practice and school, and she'd still be there ... I'd go home and sit in my room and shut myself off because I didn't know how to express my emotions properly. I was angry and mad all the time."

Grant confirmed that she was depressed for years after losing her job, but she didn't know how upset Keionte was when he retreated to his room for hours after school.

"He's always been kind of a loner," Grant said. "... I'm glad he didn't fall into the environment of Section 8 housing."

Grant continued to work odd jobs for years before finally finding consistent employment near the end of Keionte's time in high school. Prior to his senior year, Keionte presented Grant with the idea of transferring from Brighton High School to Blackman High School. He knew if he transferred to Blackman, his mother would have a better chance of finding employment.

She did and was hired as a computer technician in FedEx's supply logistics department, a role she still holds today.

"I never completely gave up," Grant said.

The Search for a Father Figure

For as long as Keionte can remember, he visited his father every weekend. However, Keionte remembered Derek "disappearing" for about five years after his ninth birthday.

He believes Derek spent the majority of that time in Texas, but Keionte said he never cared enough to ask his dad for confirmation. Once Keionte started eighth grade, he said Derek began to "creep" back into his life, attending the occasional middle school football game or messaging Keionte's mother to check on him.


"He would take me to a workout or a trainer, then give me some half-ass advice," Keionte said. "I was like, 'You don't even want to be telling me this right now, and I can feel it.'"

Keionte's relationship with Derek has been up and down since, only improving to the point where the two stayed in the same hotel room after Ball State played Western Illinois in 2021. Keionte remembered having razor bumps on his face and neck that day, and when Derek pointed them out, Keionte blamed his father for never teaching him how to properly shave.

Derek responded by telling Keionte he didn't need to be around to teach "trivial" lessons like that to his son, to which Keionte took major exception. A couple of years of little-to-no contact passed, during which time Keionte immersed himself in his faith for the first time.

He was told by members of his Bible study to let go of the grudge he held against Derek, and Keionte slowly started to build the bond with his father back. That was until April 2, Keionte's 22nd birthday, when the day came and went without a text from Derek.

Keionte messaged his father the next day to ask why he didn't reach out. Keionte said Derek responded that Keionte didn't wish him a happy birthday the year prior, prompting Keionte to scroll through their text messages and find a greeting he sent to Derek on his 50th birthday.

"All those years he missed, he missed happy birthdays, Happy New Year's, Merry Christmas and all that," Keionte said. "When he wasn't there, he wasn't there for real ... I was like, 'I've been trying, trying, trying to give you opportunities, and you just keep burning them.' I said, 'You can come to my games, but you won't be on my ticket list. I won't have tickets for you. I don't want to talk to you after games.'"

Keionte said he isn't interested in rekindling a relationship with his father until Derek shows Keionte that he cares about his personal life rather than just his athletic ventures.

The father figure that Keionte looked to in his adolescence was only 13 years older than him - his second cousin, Dexter Jones. The two spent nearly every moment together.

But in December 2014, Keionte came home from watching a local high school basketball game, and he said his life changed. Jones died from heart failure, found by family lying face down in his front yard.

"Two days before that, [the family] all went to play basketball, and he was running circles around everybody ... He was a ray of sunshine, and when he passed, it tore a hole in my family," Keionte said.

Grant was still unemployed at the time, and her depression only worsened after Jones' death. In the aftermath of losing his cousin, Keionte experienced suicidal thoughts for the first time.

His grades dropped, his focus was sporadic and he didn't enjoy spending time in his own home. When Keionte was home, he released his anger by punching holes in the walls or shouting at family members.

"Where I was growing up - if you were gonna be a man or call yourself a man - people expected men to hold on to their emotions," Keionte said. "I felt lost, and I found that football was the only safe haven I had."

Keionte's male role model after Jones' death became his middle school football coach, Larry Williams. He filled the gap in Grant's struggles to drive Keionte to and from football practice every day due to the 30-minute distance between their home and Brighton Middle School. Outside of football, Williams kept Keionte in check in the classroom both in academics and behavior.

Without Williams, Keionte said he doesn't know if he would have gotten to the point of earning a full-ride scholarship to play Division-I football, and it was during this time that Keionte discovered his love for the number nine.

This is the brotherhood they talk about'

Keionte first wore the number nine during his sophomore and junior seasons at Brighton High School, but he was not able to carry the number over to Blackman High School for his senior season. In his first two seasons with Ball State, Keionte wore the numbers 56 and 25.

He remembered feeling a sense of restoration when he earned the number nine ahead of his third year as a Cardinal, but Keionte felt like he did not live up to the standards of wearing a number that holds such high importance within him. In his two most recent seasons, Keionte said he has proven he deserves the number nine by earning True Cardinal 1 honors and serving as Ball State's team captain for the 2024 season.

"I can't be that guy that's frustrated and flustered and always worried about what's going on; I got to be that happy face and bright light that's in the locker room," Keionte said.

Perhaps no Cardinal took more from Keionte's leadership than redshirt junior wide receiver Qian Magwood, foraying that into a friendship that has lasted nearly a half-decade. Citing Keionte's outgoing personality as one of his most personable traits off the field, Magwood said his best friend was a "beacon of light" for the Cardinals.

"I know a lot of days where he's not having his best days, and he still comes in laughing, acting goofy and messing with somebody," Magwood said. " ... Some days, I come in and I just don't have it, but somehow, some way, with the guys in there, it's impossible to have a bad day."

Keionte and Magwood make a point to talk with each other for a brief moment before each game. Magwood said the meeting could be as simple as a dap up or a conversation revolving around prayer or words of encouragement.

Their vulnerability around each other comes with being roommates for years, staying up until dawn talking about their struggles and even being by each other's side when they receive traumatic news.

Magwood remembers he and Keionte hanging out at another player's apartment during their freshman year when Keionte suddenly left the room to take a phone call. He came back and told the room that one of his friends in Tennessee had been shot dead.

"I remember him hanging the phone up and starting crying. He just fell into my arms," Magwood said. "This was the first moment where I was like, 'This is the brotherhood they talk about.'"

Magwood has had moments where he's the one crying in Keionte's arms. When his grandmother died last year, he remembered Keionte being one of the first people to call and make sure he felt supported in his loss.

Heart on His Sleeve

Keionte has tattoos on both arms - the ink encompassing the struggles he has endured since the age of nine. On his left arm are a dove, a clock with a broken hand, a shattered hourglass, the word "ambition," and the phrase "I came a long way, but I'm not as far as I'm going to be." Before he leaves Ball State, he plans to add the number nine to his sleeve.

"I started from Section 8 housing to a soon-to-be college graduate," Keionte said. "That's leaps and bounds, and people don't live to see that sometimes."


Kyle Smedley wrote this article for the Ball State Daily News.


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Nearly a dozen changes could be made to the Kentucky Community and Technical College system, under Senate Joint Resolution 179, passed by lawmakers earlier this year.

The system's Acting Executive Vice President and Provost Phil Neal said the Board of Regents' recommendations are aimed at improving the process to obtaining two-year college degrees, and expanding options for students.

He said one major change includes collaboration between schools and the state Department of Education, to make it easier to offer dual and transfer credits.

"For example, on the transfer front," said Neal, "one of our recommendations that would be a change is that our eight public universities and our 16 KCTCS colleges, would all have a common course-numbering system for freshmen and sophomore level courses - and that just helps students more seamlessly transfer."

A former chief of staff is suing the system in a whistleblower lawsuit, alleging she faced retaliation for reporting waste and mismanagement.

Last week a Franklin County Circuit Court judge denied a request by the system that the case be dismissed.

A recent audit found a need to improve internal policies and procedures, but found no evidence of fraud or criminal behavior.

Neal said the state's Community and Technical College System has among the most affordable tuition rates in the state, and serves more than 66,000 students.

"We lead the country, number one, in the number of credentials conferred per capita," said Neal. "So the production of people with credentials is right up there at the top. Half of our 16 colleges have been recognized as some of the top performing community colleges in the country."

Americans' views on the importance of a college degree is shifting.

According to a Pew study released earlier this year, only one in four U.S. adults say it's extremely or very important to have a four-year college degree, in order to get a well-paying job in today's economy.

Support for this reporting was provided by Lumina Foundation.




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Recent changes to Florida's education laws have removed information on consent, contraceptives and prenatal development from many health lessons at school.

Parents are concerned the Florida Department of Education's policies may leave some districts without vital instruction.

Stephana Ferrell, director of research and insight for the Florida Freedom to Read Project in Orange County, is worried about what she sees as gaps in her children's education, including access to comprehensive health information.

"It's unfortunate that parents have been opted out of these educational experiences," Ferrell stated. "But it's now time for us all to get informed about what our kids are missing and make the extra effort to ensure that our young citizens are armed with this information."

Advocacy groups, including PEN America and EveryLibrary, cautioned overcompliance with state laws may lead to the removal of books on topics like anatomy, teen pregnancy and sexual assault. In a joint letter, they urged Florida school superintendents and school board attorneys to exercise restraint and preserve the resources for students.

Ferrell described a clash between two views: one believing ignorance protects innocence, and another believing being informed is the best way to understand and avoid risks. She sided with the latter, saying education safeguards the community.

"We really are trying to encourage that information to remain available," Ferrell emphasized. "There are lots of nonfiction, well-written and age-appropriate materials that can be made available in the library, and have been made available in libraries in the past."

Florida school districts have struggled for years to determine which books should remain in libraries under laws signed by Gov. Ron DeSantis. The laws allow parents and others to challenge books deemed "inappropriate," though recent legislative changes limit the number of challenges. This fall, the Department of Education released a list of more than 700 books removed from, or discontinued in, schools statewide.


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