Feds Crack Down: California Schools Face Loss of Funds for Extremist Curricula

Paul Riverbank, 2/9/2026Federal crackdown looms as California schools face funding loss over controversial, divisive curricula.

Few officials have been as blunt as Harmeet Dhillon, who currently heads the Department of Justice’s Civil Rights Division. In a recent interview, she skipped preamble: “What we’re seeing in K-12 is antisemitism, we’re seeing racism—all kinds of things.” Her warning wasn’t just theoretical. Across the country, over seventy schools and colleges have received stern warning letters. Scores of investigations have begun, aimed at weeding out everything from race-based discrimination to any hint of political indoctrination betraying civil rights laws.

Consider what happened in San Jose last December, a moment that rattled parents and teachers alike—a group of high schoolers linked arms on a football field and formed a human swastika, a stunt that was photographed and broadcast online, complete with a Hitler quote. School officials reached for the “restorative justice” playbook, but explanations to parents were murky, fueling confusion. Many in the community wanted more than just the phrase—they wanted substance.

Meanwhile, protests weren’t limited to campus lawns. In Los Angeles, a school anti-ICE demonstration last year degenerated into violence, with a teenager stabbed amidst the chaos. Such incidents have left no doubt for some parents that politics in schools isn’t merely an abstract debate. The real-world consequences—sometimes dangerous, always polarizing—now activate a growing chorus of concern.

This tension over curriculum has simmered for years but these days, it feels combustible. Some activist teachers advocate “reshaping” education, asking students to see America not as a land of opportunity, but as a stage for a drama of oppressors and the oppressed. Curricular experiments like “liberated ethnic studies” introduce concepts such as “Turtle Island” (a term with roots in some Indigenous traditions, nowadays repurposed in activist spaces to refer to North America) and urge students to challenge symbols of “colonialism” and “Americanism.”

For some parents, the tone in a handful of classrooms is jarring. Displays, sometimes for weeks at a time, have featured slogans that range from “make Israel Palestine again” to “F**k Amerikka, this is native land.” Some posters included explicit critiques of law enforcement or referenced Palestine and Turtle Island in the same breath. The backlash, at times sudden and fierce, has forced administrators to pull offending materials, at least for now.

Higher education hasn’t escaped scrutiny, either. The Justice Department’s focus has zeroed in on universities like UCLA’s David Geffen School of Medicine. Federal officials allege that admissions policies there have shifted sharply after the Supreme Court voided Harvard’s use of affirmative action, putting UCLA’s preference for Black and Hispanic applicants over White and Asian students on the table. According to numbers cited in recent reviews, White and Asian students—the majority of applicants—have seen their admit rates drop significantly, while admit rates for Black students almost doubled in just four years. Dhillon called out the “striking” nature of these changes, highlighting one contentious point: preferred applicant groups often report lower average MCAT scores.

Yet the terrain of identity politics spreads further—spilling into K-12 through the well-funded likes of the Great Schools Partnership and the Zinn Education Project. These national organizations produce lesson plans that braid together decolonization, critiques of America, and analogies connecting the Israeli-Palestinian conflict with Native American struggles. For critics, this confluence risks encouraging students to draw “us versus them” lines at a formative age—sometimes with implications that, intentionally or not, seem to excuse hostility or violence.

Fears about rhetoric breeding extremism aren’t without precedent. Earlier this year, the FBI intervened to stop a planned bombing in Southern California, alleged to trace back to the so-called Turtle Island Liberation Front. It’s a chilling reminder that slogans in a classroom, left unchecked, can skate into dangerous territory.

But controversies extend beyond the auditorium or the quad. There’s the ongoing, unsolved debate around mental health: how much time, if any, schools should devote to social-emotional education. Baroness Amanda Spielman, a former chief of Ofsted, recently made waves in Parliament when she warned that “talking too much about mental health in schools is ‘unhelpful’ and may make things worse.” She pointed out that, in some studies, students receiving interventions felt less—not more—resilient. Her comments split educators and activists, especially as charities insist that skyrocketing numbers of children—one in five by some estimates—struggle with genuine psychological conditions. In the UK alone, over 850,000 children now have some tie to the NHS’s mental health services. For parents, it’s an uneasy standoff: everyone sees the need, but agreement on the method remains elusive.

Cultural fault lines also emerge over privacy in school bathrooms and locker rooms—nowhere more sharply than in places like Temecula Valley, where parental objections have led some to file mental health or religious exemption forms, hoping to carve out some shelter for their daughters.

Standing back, it’s hard to escape the sense that schools are becoming the primary battleground for broader social disputes. The core question lingers: what values—and whose—ought to shape the education of a rising generation? Ultimately, how such issues are resolved in classrooms won’t just influence test scores or report cards; they’ll leave a lasting imprint on the kind of country those students will inherit.

It’s a new kind of spotlight that’s landed on California’s public schools—a glare that’s less forgiving, with the federal government clearly signaling that there are consequences for “extremist” agendas slipping into the classroom. For years, parents, teachers, and policymakers have sparred over what’s actually being taught behind classroom doors. Now, those fights are coming to a boil.Few officials have been as blunt as Harmeet Dhillon, who currently heads the Department of Justice’s Civil Rights Division. In a recent interview, she skipped preamble: “What we’re seeing in K-12 is antisemitism, we’re seeing racism—all kinds of things.” Her warning wasn’t just theoretical. Across the country, over seventy schools and colleges have received stern warning letters. Scores of investigations have begun, aimed at weeding out everything from race-based discrimination to any hint of political indoctrination betraying civil rights laws.Consider what happened in San Jose last December, a moment that rattled parents and teachers alike—a group of high schoolers linked arms on a football field and formed a human swastika, a stunt that was photographed and broadcast online, complete with a Hitler quote. School officials reached for the “restorative justice” playbook, but explanations to parents were murky, fueling confusion. Many in the community wanted more than just the phrase—they wanted substance.Meanwhile, protests weren’t limited to campus lawns. In Los Angeles, a school anti-ICE demonstration last year degenerated into violence, with a teenager stabbed amidst the chaos. Such incidents have left no doubt for some parents that politics in schools isn’t merely an abstract debate. The real-world consequences—sometimes dangerous, always polarizing—now activate a growing chorus of concern.This tension over curriculum has simmered for years but these days, it feels combustible. Some activist teachers advocate “reshaping” education, asking students to see America not as a land of opportunity, but as a stage for a drama of oppressors and the oppressed. Curricular experiments like “liberated ethnic studies” introduce concepts such as “Turtle Island” (a term with roots in some Indigenous traditions, nowadays repurposed in activist spaces to refer to North America) and urge students to challenge symbols of “colonialism” and “Americanism.”For some parents, the tone in a handful of classrooms is jarring. Displays, sometimes for weeks at a time, have featured slogans that range from “make Israel Palestine again” to “F**k Amerikka, this is native land.” Some posters included explicit critiques of law enforcement or referenced Palestine and Turtle Island in the same breath. The backlash, at times sudden and fierce, has forced administrators to pull offending materials, at least for now.Higher education hasn’t escaped scrutiny, either. The Justice Department’s focus has zeroed in on universities like UCLA’s David Geffen School of Medicine. Federal officials allege that admissions policies there have shifted sharply after the Supreme Court voided Harvard’s use of affirmative action, putting UCLA’s preference for Black and Hispanic applicants over White and Asian students on the table. According to numbers cited in recent reviews, White and Asian students—the majority of applicants—have seen their admit rates drop significantly, while admit rates for Black students almost doubled in just four years. Dhillon called out the “striking” nature of these changes, highlighting one contentious point: preferred applicant groups often report lower average MCAT scores.Yet the terrain of identity politics spreads further—spilling into K-12 through the well-funded likes of the Great Schools Partnership and the Zinn Education Project. These national organizations produce lesson plans that braid together decolonization, critiques of America, and analogies connecting the Israeli-Palestinian conflict with Native American struggles. For critics, this confluence risks encouraging students to draw “us versus them” lines at a formative age—sometimes with implications that, intentionally or not, seem to excuse hostility or violence.Fears about rhetoric breeding extremism aren’t without precedent. Earlier this year, the FBI intervened to stop a planned bombing in Southern California, alleged to trace back to the so-called Turtle Island Liberation Front. It’s a chilling reminder that slogans in a classroom, left unchecked, can skate into dangerous territory.But controversies extend beyond the auditorium or the quad. There’s the ongoing, unsolved debate around mental health: how much time, if any, schools should devote to social-emotional education. Baroness Amanda Spielman, a former chief of Ofsted, recently made waves in Parliament when she warned that “talking too much about mental health in schools is ‘unhelpful’ and may make things worse.” She pointed out that, in some studies, students receiving interventions felt less—not more—resilient. Her comments split educators and activists, especially as charities insist that skyrocketing numbers of children—one in five by some estimates—struggle with genuine psychological conditions. In the UK alone, over 850,000 children now have some tie to the NHS’s mental health services. For parents, it’s an uneasy standoff: everyone sees the need, but agreement on the method remains elusive.Cultural fault lines also emerge over privacy in school bathrooms and locker rooms—nowhere more sharply than in places like Temecula Valley, where parental objections have led some to file mental health or religious exemption forms, hoping to carve out some shelter for their daughters.Standing back, it’s hard to escape the sense that schools are becoming the primary battleground for broader social disputes. The core question lingers: what values—and whose—ought to shape the education of a rising generation? Ultimately, how such issues are resolved in classrooms won’t just influence test scores or report cards; they’ll leave a lasting imprint on the kind of country those students will inherit.